Shake, Rattle and Roll: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

by Charles, Jane

  “Wow, Bethany. That’s a lot.”

  “I know. I just need to rest and be.”

  She smiles. “See, I did teach you something.”

  “It’s why I’m here.” There is always peace and tranquility with Aunt Lily. It surrounds her and is exactly what I needed. I just wish I had more than a few days with her. As it stands, I have to leave Sunday afternoon so I can be home in time to get some rest before I have to go back to the hospital.

  “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

  “My appointment is next week.”

  “I’ll make you up bags of tea to help with the nausea and other prenatal boosts.”

  “I’m a nurse, remember.” My aunt may be an awesome herbalist, but I lean toward modern medicine.

  “Relax. I’ll give you a list of all the ingredients and the purpose for each tea to show your doctor for approval after you’ve been examined,” she assures me. “I’ll also send soaps and lotions. Be sure to use them on your belly and legs to help avoid stretch marks.”

  “Stretch marks?” I didn’t even think about everything my body is going to be going through. I’ve barely processed being pregnant.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious either.”

  What I find odd is that Aunt Lily skipped right to dealing with the pregnancy and hasn’t asked any questions about Christian.

  “I’m not ready to tell Mom and Dad yet.”

  She nods. “You’re going to have to tell them sometime. Unless, you aren’t keeping it.”

  “I am,” I assure her. “I just need to get through these first weeks, months, and graduate, all of that, before they need to know. I can’t deal with anything else right now and they are going to really bug me about moving home now.”

  Aunt Lily nods. “Now, where’s that quilt?”

  “In my suitcase.” That’s the reason I told her I was coming down. Despite everything this week, I was able to get the quilt top done. It wasn’t so hard since I already had the squares cut. All I had to do was pin and sew. That took only a couple of nights while I binge watched a British comedy. The third night I added the borders, and binge watched another show, and yesterday, I bought a ticket home and packed it up.

  Besides making soaps, teas and lotions, Aunt Lily has a quilting shop in a building behind her cottage. Not the kind where you buy material and stuff, but a machine that finishes off quilts. People send her quilts from all over the country because they like making the tops, but not the putting it all together with batting, backing, trim and the delicate quilting throughout. I could have put the whole thing together and quilted it myself, except my machine is basic and only sews. I know how to quilt by hand, but if I did that, it can’t go in the washer, and a king size quilt is a pain in the ass to wash by hand. Plus, where the hell would anybody hang it to dry?

  I grab it and follow her out back, then spread it out on a table.

  She gasps. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” I am rather proud of it.

  “And Christian helped you find fabric?” She asks almost in disbelief.

  I laugh. “Boise, Seattle and Portland.”

  “It’s a shame he’s a dick.”

  “He isn’t a dick. He was afraid of what was to come and pushed me away.”

  “If you say so,” she mutters as if she doesn’t believe me and then goes to her shelves of material. “Are you sure you want black on the back?”

  “Yep. It’s his favorite color and since I’m giving it to him, we’ll make it how he would like.”

  She shakes her head. “I like it on the front because the colors are more vibrant and stand out, but the back is just kind of blah.”

  “Aunt Lily…”

  “Alright, black it is. What about binding?”

  “Black.”

  “Come on,” she complains.

  “His favorite colors are black, brown, and gold.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “None of those will work.”

  “Black will work just fine.”

  “No it won’t.”

  She holds her black to the black I used on the quilt top and they are slightly off. “Crap.”

  “Okay then, what do you suggest?”

  “A complimentary color that works with them all.”

  “What?” I snort.

  She pulls out the prettiest dusty rose and lays it beside the black. “Perfect.”

  It is. Did my aunt choose one of my favorite colors because of me or only because it works with the quilt?

  “Mark my words, you and Christian will be sharing this quilt one day.”

  She did pick the rose on purpose. Should I make her pick another? As much as I wish I could believe her, I’m not so certain. Even if that happens, it won’t be anytime soon. “What makes you so certain?” Do I really want to know the answer?

  “Because, you love him.”

  “That doesn’t mean he loves me.”

  She just smiles. “He bought you fabric and sent you away so you wouldn’t feel obligated to stay with him. He could have been selfish and held on. A lot of people would so they aren’t alone, but he did the opposite.”

  “So?”

  “It means he loves you too much to ruin your life if his was ending.”

  I’m not sure that’s true, but I also know my aunt well enough not to argue. She’ll believe what she wants. She always does and no matter what I say, she is not going to change her mind.

  “I also know you and how you will doubt, so I agree to your idea of not telling him about the baby until he comes around.”

  “How long?”

  “Give him until the end of the first trimester. If he can’t get it together by then, tell him he’s going to be a father and move on.”

  She’s right. There is no point in making a decision now. That gives Christian time to go through treatment and me time to get used to being pregnant and decide what I’m going to do, and somehow come to peace with whatever that is going to be.

  39

  Those stairs were a pain in the ass when we were sanding them during the renovation process, but now I hate them. Or, I anticipate hating them since I have to climb two flights to get to my room.

  “You can always sleep on the couch,” Dylan offers.

  “I just might.” Even though the pain is controlled, I still hurt. The doctor had planned on doing the surgery laparoscopically, which is easier and has a quicker recovery, but decided to make a larger incision to make sure they removed the lymph nodes that were a concern. Better safe and cautious than sorry later. I’d still rather have the incision down my abdomen than to have had them miss something. I just hadn’t anticipated the extra time in the hospital. I thought it would be a day. Instead, it was five and I’m so glad to finally be home.

  And, even though I don’t want to climb those damn stairs, I do want to sleep in my own bed. “Help me up.” I brace my hands on the couch and start to stand. Sean is there for support, as he has been since I first told him. I’m so glad Sean was sitting with me when Dr. Melligrew gave me the news and explained my treatment options and what he recommended. Since that moment, he has been near. He was waiting for me to get out of surgery on Monday. They all were. Every single one of my friends called off work and put their life on hold to be there when I woke up. Not that I remember much because it was a long surgery and I was really groggy after. But, during my five-day stay, Sean was the constant. Always hanging out in my hospital room, getting me anything I might need, not that I needed much. Of course, he’s off work because of the gash in his hand, so it isn’t like he had to be anywhere else, but he also didn’t have to spend all of his time with me.

  The others visited too, usually in the evening because of work. Alyssa and Zach were the two who were usually there during the day with Sean.

  I have the best friends in the world. They’re my family, and keeping things to myself and dealing on my own is not a mistake I’ll make again.

  The only person who was
n’t in my hospital room, even though I knew she was at the hospital, was Bethany. But, as much as I wished she would have stopped in, I don’t expect to see her again because I’m a fucking asshole.

  I get to the stairs with Sean hovering behind me and take a breath. He’s been there to balance me since they got me out of bed to walk following surgery. I was a little wobbly at first but it got better and now a level surface isn’t a problem anymore. Two flights of stairs are going to be a bitch. “I can probably do this on my own.” But it’s good to have him there just in case and he isn’t going to let me topple back down. He’s a big guy and could be a linebacker if he wanted to be.

  “We’ll get you up there and get you settled. No reason to come down until Monday.”

  My first radiation treatment.

  “We can switch rooms if you want,” Nina offers. Hers is on the second floor, right across from Dylan’s. “I don’t mind.”

  “That’s okay. I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”

  “Okay, but if it’s too much, I don’t mind switching until this is over.”

  “Thanks.”

  She’s a good kid.

  Not a kid, as she points out. She is eighteen, but since she’s Dylan’s younger sister, she’s a kid.

  The stairs aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be going up and down them any more than I have to. Sinking down on my bed, I look at the two boxes that are sitting there. One is small and the other big. “What are those?”

  Sean shrugs. “Mary brought them over. Stuff that was at Bethany’s.”

  “I didn’t have any stuff at Bethany’s.” Though I kind of wish I was there now. As much as I missed my own bed, I miss her too.

  “Better open them and see what it is.” He heads for the door. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water and toast, if you don’t mind.” My stomach gets queasy from the pain meds, but I’d rather be nauseated than in pain.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Thanks,” I call, but he’s already gone.

  Grabbing the first box I open it. It’s the DNA testing kit. I totally forgot I ordered it and had it mailed to Mary.

  My heart skips when I lift the lid on the second box. “She didn’t.” Carefully taking out the quilt, I spread it on the bed. The prism quilt, no holes in the colors, and black trim. A lump forms in my throat and for a minute I’m blinking back tears.

  A piece of paper is in the middle and I pick it up.

  Christian,

  * * *

  You found half of the colors so I thought you should have this. I hope you’re feeling better and have a quick recovery.

  * * *

  Bethany

  She gave me the quilt. The one she’d been working on for a year because she didn’t have all the right colors.

  Why? It’s hers. She labored over it. I just found a few pieces of fabric.

  Shifting on the bed, I pull it over my body.

  She gave me the quilt. The one I wanted her to finish so we could do naughty things under it. Now I’ll just be sleeping under it. Alone. Because I’m a fucking dick.

  “Wow!” Sean says as he steps in the room. “Where did the quilt come from?”

  “Bethany made it.” I tell him about the project and the fabric I found. Most guys would probably give me a hard time, but not Sean. Probably not that others in the house either.

  “A DNA test?” He picks up the box and looks at me.

  “Bethany’s idea.” Then I tell him about her reasons. “Even if I don’t find a blood relation, I’ll have a heritage. It’s something.” I shrug.

  “You still haven’t called her yet, have you?”

  I’ve wanted to, but what do I say? “I wasn’t sure if she’d want to hear from me.” Truth be told, I was afraid of the rejection. The longer I put off calling the harder it is.

  “You have two very good reasons right here.” He shakes his head. “She gave you a quilt. Those are work and priceless, you better call before you lose her for good.”

  “Christian is getting released today,” Mary says as she takes a seat across from me in the cafeteria. She has kept me up to date about the surgery, how long he’s been here, the plans for radiation. I don’t ask, it’s none of my business, but I’m glad to know that they didn’t find the cancer anywhere else and that he’ll most likely have a full recovery.

  “That’s good.”

  “Which means, he’ll open those two packages from you.” Mary has been wanting to know what I sent with her, but I’m not telling anyone. That is up to Christian, especially the DNA test. As for the quilt, well that’s just too personal and I don’t want to have to explain. Not that it’s any big mystery, except I don’t want to get all emotional.

  “Now that he’s home and recovering, when are you going to tell him?”

  I look up into her blue eyes. “When the time is right.”

  “Are you sure there is ever going to be a right time?” she counters.

  “Look, I want to get through the first trimester,” I remind her. “You know as well as I do that if things are going to go bad, that is when it would happen.” The doctor doesn’t seem to think I have anything to worry about and that my hormone levels are exactly where they should be, but the pill was still in my system when I got pregnant and I did have a few glasses of wine before I knew. Of course, a lot of people have alcohol early in a pregnancy because they don’t know, and those babies are fine and she assured me that since it was only a couple of glasses and I wasn’t getting drunk every night, the baby should be fine. Of course, there are never any guarantees, which is why I’m waiting.

  “I think you’re using that as an excuse.”

  I am, but I’m not going to admit to it. I’m not ready to talk to Christian about anything, let alone tell him that he’s going to be a father. My heart hasn’t mended enough. I fell for him way too quick and way too hard and I’m still trying to recover from the rejection. “I just need time, okay.”

  “The more time you take is the longer that I’m keeping something from Dylan and I don’t like to keep things from him. At least not something this big that will affect one of his best friends.”

  “If you told him, could you guarantee that he wouldn’t insist on telling Christian before I’m ready?”

  Mary bites her bottom lip and that’s all the answer I need.

  “All Christian has ever wanted is a family. He’s the only guy I know who has wanted his own kids as soon as he could.”

  “I understand, but his baby is also mine and I’m not ready.”

  My phone dings and I grab it from my pocket and my heart skips.

  Christian: The quilt is beautiful. Why did you give it to me?

  This is the first I’ve heard from him since we stood outside of oncology and he sent me away.

  Me: You found half the colors.

  I will not read anything into this and I’m sure not going to get my hopes up.

  Christian: Not half and only a small percentage.

  That is true.

  Me: It wouldn’t be finished without you.

  And I don’t want any reminders of our short time together

  Christian: It’s beautiful.

  Me: Thank you

  Damn, why are my eyes tearing up?

  Christian: It’s us. With the black in the border and one of your favorite colors on the trim. Dusty rose of old flowers.

  I can’t believe he remembered that and my heart aches even more.

  Me: It could have been

  Christian: Could?

  Me: You shut me out.

  Christian: I’m a fucking jerk.

  Me: Yep.

  Christian: Is it too late for me? For us?

  I set my phone aside, not sure how to answer.

  “What?” Mary asks.

  I show her the phone so she can read the message.

  “Well, answer him!”

  I want to, but I’m afraid. “What do I say?”

 
“The truth.” Mary grabs the phone from my hand and types before I can stop her and hands it back.

  Me: No. Not too late.

  I glare at her. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because someone had to and you’re too chicken. Give him a bread crumb at least.”

  “Or, false hope.”

  She rolls her eyes and gets up from the table.

  Christian: When can I see you?

  Me: When you’re better.

  Christian: I’m home now.

  Me: You’re dealing with stuff. Get well and make sure you know what you want.

  Christian: I want you.

  Me: You said that once before and then changed your mind in 12 hours.

  Christian: I panicked and I was wrong.

  Me: Be certain you know what you want before you contact me again. If you can’t promise not to push me away when things go wrong, then there is no hope for us.

  Christian: I am certain and I promise.

  Me: Recover first. Then we’ll talk

  Christian: Come over this weekend.

  Me: I need to get back to work.

  40

  I mute the television when someone knocks at my door. “Come in.”

  Mary pushes it open and steps inside. Her eyes go wide. “That’s the quilt? Bethany wouldn’t tell me what was in the boxes but Sean did.”

  I grin. “Awesome, isn’t it.” I haven’t even bothered to get all the way in my bed, under sheets or any of that, but have been napping under the quilt all day.

  “I had no idea Bethany made quilts until now.”

  “I thought you were good friends.” I frown at her.

  “We are friends, it’s just not something that came up in conversation.” Mary comes further inside. “How are you feeling?”