“Just Jordan.”
“Absolutely.”
Erica beamed as if a new day had dawned across the earth. “It’s a deal.”
“Done?” he pressed, just to be sure.
“Done.”
Lock high-fived her. Then he gently slid his arms around his bride-to-be and kissed her.
Chapter Nineteen
Sheer happiness carried Erica through what would otherwise have been a less-than-pleasant night. Nurses repeatedly disrupted her sleep and every nerve cell in her body protested the slightest movement.
She experienced no confusion or dizziness, but her brain buzzed all the same. She was going to marry Lock. How amazing. How incredible.
How terrifying.
Old fears nagged at the edges of Erica’s thoughts. But with the aid of mild pain medication, she dispelled them. On Sunday morning, she arrived home still cheerfully—if disbelievingly—contemplating her future with the devoted man beside her.
After settling her on the couch, Lock fixed sandwiches for them both. Why, Erica thought, had she tried to discourage him that first day in the park? How could she have resisted his blazing blue eyes, those powerful arms and shoulders and all that tenderness? But of course, she hadn’t known him then.
She hadn’t tasted his cooking, either. The man had a gift for assembling cold cuts, cheeses, tomatoes and bread rich with seeds and sprouts into a meal fit for a king and queen.
He was almost too good to be true.
The feeling of unreality persisted all day. Bibi was ecstatic on learning of the engagement. Erica, who’d spoken to her only long enough on Saturday night to provide reassurance about the baby, couldn’t believe how her mother showered her with praise, as if Erica had won a Nobel Prize.
“I’m just getting married,” she told her.
“Yes! My only daughter is getting married!” Bibi exclaimed. “And having a baby! When’s the wedding?”
“Soon.” Erica couldn’t think that far ahead.
That evening, Renée joined them for supper, which the older woman insisted on bringing from Papa Giovanni’s Italian restaurant. This time, there was no arguing. She and Lock talked quietly, at ease with each other, like soldiers who’d survived a battle and become comrades for life. They agreed to take a DNA test, just to make sure.
Erica doubted that was necessary. In the glow of the Tiffany-style lamps, she could see the resemblance in the set of their jaws, the arch of their eyebrows and the breadth of their foreheads. Would Jordan look like that, too? Her palm fluttered to her abdomen. She hoped he or she could feel the flood of loving hormones.
And that this felt real to him, because it still didn’t to her.
On Monday, following Paige’s advice, Erica took a sick day, while another nurse filled in. Dr. T called three times to check on her. Each time, he sounded slightly more frazzled. Finally, he asked the question that had obviously been on his mind: “When are you coming back?”
“Tomorrow,” Erica said.
“You’re sure you’ll be well enough?” An eager note made it clear he was asking only out of guilt. Well, maybe a little concern, too.
“Yes. I hate missing the action,” she told him.
“Great!” He sighed. “Why can’t other nurses figure out what I want the way you do?”
“We’re on the same wavelength, professionally speaking,” Erica replied. “But I’m sure my sub’s been fine.”
Owen muttered good-naturedly before wishing her well and hanging up.
On Tuesday, Ned came in to work early to welcome her back, bringing pastries for the surgical staff. “I dread the day you go on maternity leave,” he said when they had a private moment. “Dr. T nearly bit my head off yesterday for no good reason. Apparently he had a rough morning.”
“He’ll get over it.” Still, Erica was glad Owen needed her. “Besides, I don’t plan to stay away long.” She’d heard that the hospital’s day-care center took excellent care of infants and made arrangements for nursing mothers.
All week, she kept running into staff members who asked about her health and congratulated her on the engagement. Erica hadn’t realized how many friends she’d made in the past year.
Renée met her for lunch as often as they could coordinate their schedules. With Erica’s permission, she’d begun asking around about wedding facilities. There’d been quite a few weddings among the staff, so her list grew longer by the day.
Lock and Renée’s DNA test came back a match. The three of them visited Lock’s father’s grave and left flowers.
A few days later, when Erica met the Aarons, they welcomed her warmly into the family. Lock’s foster parents were down-to-earth and fun to be around.
It was too easy. Too perfect. Any minute, Erica kept thinking, the roof was going to fall in.
Nearly two weeks after her accident, on a Friday, it did. Literally.
Lock called to cancel meeting her for dinner. “We’ve got a big hole in the roof over the garage.”
“I thought you patched that.” She recalled him mentioning the problem earlier.
“That was in the kitchen.” He sounded grumpy, which was understandable, since he’d had to rescue some tools and other stored equipment from the deluge. “Leo’s saying he might just patch this one, too, and sell the place rather than bother putting on a new roof.”
“That seems extreme.” She stretched her legs along the couch.
“A lot of things need fixing around here and he’s tired of being a landlord.” Lock’s voice warmed. “It’s lucky I’m planning to move in with you. Of course, as you mentioned, we’ll need a larger place.”
“I’d rather raise a family in a house than an apartment,” Erica mused. “If they weren’t so expensive, I’d love to be a home owner.” Out of the blue, an idea hit her. A crazy, bold idea. “Wait a minute. If your landlord doesn’t fix up the place, he won’t be able to sell it full price.”
A short pause followed. She knew what Lock was mulling over, because, she’d discovered, they tended to think along the same lines.
“I have some money left from an inheritance,” he said. “How about you?”
“I have savings,” she said. “I’m not sure if there’ll be enough, though. We’ll have to make repairs, pay for the wedding and prepare for the baby.”
“Let’s do the math and find out.”
There was enough, by a narrow margin. They agreed on a reasonable price with Leo and opened escrow on the house. Mike griped about the prospect of being kicked out to make room for the lovebirds, especially since he wouldn’t be able to use his noisy exercise equipment in an apartment. They assured him he could stay for an extra month or so until he found a house to rent and a roommate to share expenses.
And so, by the following week, Erica was going to have not only a husband and a baby, but a house, too. Even the roof caving in hadn’t spoiled the scenario. She wondered if she would ever feel this was true life instead of a dream.
“You’ll get your feet on the ground,” Lock assured her on a Saturday afternoon when she shared her thoughts with him.
“I wish I had your ability to take things in stride,” she said while eating a yogurt at the kitchen counter.
Standing across from her, Lock grinned. “Is that what I do?”
She pinpointed what, to her, seemed to be the main issue. “You seem able to feel in control. To me, everything’s spinning too fast.”
Lock came around and massaged her back. “That’s understandable. You’re planning a wedding and carrying a baby.” One hand strayed to her stomach. “Ten weeks. Nearly the end of the first trimester. We may be able to tell the gender soon.” He’d been researching fetal development on the internet.
“I should start planning t
he nursery.” She’d received suggestions from Bibi, who every few days emailed her links to websites and articles. “I’m looking forward to it but at the same time there’s so much to consider.”
Strong arms surrounded her. “What do you usually do when you feel out of control?”
“In extreme cases, I go shopping for antiques,” Erica responded wistfully. “But we have to be careful about expenses.”
“It doesn’t cost anything to browse.”
She supposed he was right. “Will you come with me?”
“To an antiques store?” Lock’s expression, when she turned to face him, hovered on the edge of dismay. Quickly, he manned up. “If it will make you happy, I’m all for it.”
What a guy, Erica thought, and gave him a hug.
A short time later, they arrived at A Memorable Décor. The window display had changed from a kaleidoscope of quilts to an array of rosy-cheeked china dolls lovingly outfitted in Victorian clothing. “They specialize in dolls?” Lock asked dubiously as he pushed open the door.
“Oh, that’s just the current display.” As bells tinkled, Erica made her way inside, stepping around a middle-aged man and woman who were inspecting a lacquered chest. The store was more crowded than when she’d last visited, but then, that had been on a weeknight.
Lock zeroed in on an oak rolltop desk that Erica hadn’t seen before. Tall and equipped with cubbyholes and assorted drawers, it dominated one corner. “Look at the workmanship. I’ll bet there are secret compartments.”
“Spoken like a detective,” she teased.
He spotted the price tag. “It costs…ouch. Well, it’s fun to window-shop, anyway.”
“Yes, it is. Some things just don’t show up as well on the internet.” Erica ran her hand over a mosaic-tiled tabletop.
They wandered along the aisles, enjoying the uniqueness of each piece. While they’d bought the house complete with contents, that didn’t mean much, considering the sorry state of everything except the pool table. Erica would have to augment her furniture eventually. Not yet, though. Not at these prices.
Something was missing. She didn’t realize what until the smartly dressed saleslady approached to ask if she could help.
“Did you sell the crib?” Erica asked.
Lock cocked his head. “Crib?”
“I just remembered it,” she explained. “There were butterflies carved into the headboard.”
“A couple asked us to hold it for them, so I moved it to the back,” the woman said. “They called this morning and said they’d changed their minds.”
Probably decided it was too expensive. Erica wished she’d checked the price last time, but she hadn’t been in the market for a crib.
“So where is this thing of beauty?” Lock asked.
“Follow me.” The saleswoman threaded through the aisles to the rear of the store. Pulling aside a curtain, she revealed a small storage area.
The burnished wood of the crib gleamed as if bathed in radiance. In the headboard, butterflies stretched their wings, delicate reminders of an unknown creator who’d surely made this lovely thing for his or her own child.
Erica could hardly breathe. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Striking,” Lock agreed. “Of course, it would be a shame to use it only once.” He slanted her a teasing grin.
“That remains to be seen,” Erica returned tartly. But he might be right. Once you have a child, why not two or three?
“It meets all the latest safety standards,” the saleslady said. “And butterflies are my favorite theme for baby furniture. They’re such a delightful symbol of new birth.”
New birth. Or rebirth, Erica thought. How perfect.
In a flash, she understood why she’d had so much trouble adjusting to changes that were, after all, dearly welcome. She wasn’t only carrying a new life, she was starting one. Now the railing of this crib gave her something solid to hold on to as she emerged from her familiar cocoon into a new world. A world she suddenly felt ready to enter with wings spread wide, like those butterflies.
“It goes with your stuff,” Lock observed.
“It does.” Erica turned the price tag so she could read it. Too much. Her spirits plummeted.
Then she remembered the birthday gift certificate in her purse. Also, her aunts had sent a check as an engagement present, suggesting it be used to buy something for her new home. Questioningly, she turned to the man she loved. “Would you mind if I…?”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. “You bet.”
“I’m not sure we can afford it.”
“You’ll never be satisfied with anything less.” Quickly, he added, “Neither will I.”
Erica swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered.
“We can have that delivered,” the saleslady said. “Unless you want to take it with you?”
“Delivered would be fine,” Lock told her.
As she paid, Erica kept touching the velvety wood, picturing an infant nestled here. And a toddler, standing shakily as it gripped the rail.
What was it that Renée had said when they first saw this crib? “It’s the kind of heirloom that gets handed down from generation to generation.”
A delicious shiver ran through Erica. She felt as if she’d joined hands with uncounted ancestors, women like her reaching back into distant ages. And ahead, into the future.
There were going to be more generations in her family, after all.
ON MONDAY IN the operating room, Dr. T described how Julie had begun to explore different tempos as she shook her rattle, no doubt a sign of budding musical genius, while Richard cooed along as if trying to sing.
“We’re going to be like the von Trapp family in The Sound of Music,” he chortled.
“I can’t wait to see you all climbing over the Alps as you flee the Nazis,” Rod Vintner grumbled.
“We bought the perfect crib!” Erica had scarcely been able to contain this piece of urgent news, and now it burst forth. “That gift certificate you gave me to the antiques store really helped. Thanks.”
“What does it look like, exactly?” Dr. T asked.
“Yes, don’t spare us any excruciating details,” the anesthesiologist muttered.
“It meets all the current safety standards,” Erica told them, and went on to describe the butterflies and how the wood shone as if with its own special light.
“He’ll love it,” Dr. T said when she finished. “Or she. Any idea which it is?”
“Not yet,” Erica told him.
“Be sure to let me know when you find out,” the surgeon told her as he bent over the patient. “Babies are fascinating.”
Erica ignored Rod’s grunt of disapproval. Perhaps one of these days he’d change his mind. After all, how could anyone not love those enthralling little people?
Babies. Honestly!
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459221079
Copyright © 2012 by Jackie Hyman
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