Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance)

by Laura Bradford

  Reardon.

  Rory had to do something. He couldn’t sit by and watch someone as beautiful and talented as Maggie slip into a hole by herself.

  No. He had to get her out. Even if it was someone else’s arms that actually did the pulling.

  SHE ROLLED OVER AND stared at the wall, willing herself to block out his knocking. When was he going to get it? When was he going to realize she didn’t want to see him?

  He’d been persistent the night before, his footsteps finally retreating after a solid twenty minutes. This morning’s visit had been closer to ten, but still…

  And now here he was again.

  There was a part of her that wanted to fling open the door and beg him to leave her alone. That, at least, would stop the knocking.

  But the other part—the part that was more tired than she’d ever been—simply didn’t have the energy to get off the bed and walk into the living room. And besides, he was a nice guy. Just because she had some sort of curse around her didn’t mean she had to get nasty.

  He’d get the point. Eventually.

  “Maggie? It’s Delilah. Are you okay?”

  She rose up on one elbow, her eyes heavy from shed tears. Did she dare open the door? Dare take the chance that somehow she could make Delilah—and thereby Rory—understand?

  It was worth a try.

  A third knock sounded. “Please, Maggie. I’d really like to talk with you.”

  She slipped out of bed and padded across the living-room floor, the pitter-patter of her feet in stark contrast to the insistent knocking that guided her steps. When she reached the door, she opened it a crack to find Delilah’s concerned face looming there.

  “Maggie!”

  She glanced down at the floor, only to find two brightly colored gift bags filled with tissue paper mere inches from the woman’s feet. “What’s that?” Maggie whispered.

  “That? That’s a few gifts from a man who’s more than a little worried about you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes at the reproach in Delilah’s voice. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t let this thing between us continue.”

  Delilah gestured past her. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She backed up and watched as Delilah moved across the room, only to stop when her boot met something on the floor. Something round and silver…

  The wishing ball.

  Maggie swallowed. “I’m sorry. I—”

  The woman bent down and retrieved the gleaming ornament. “Oh, Maggie, this is beautiful.” Without waiting for a response, Delilah marched across the room and hung it on the tree, her branch selection a near-perfect match to the one it had graced less than twelve hours earlier. Before Maggie’s tirade had caused it to go skittering across the floor.

  “It was from my uncle. Seems he’s just as determined as Rory to push me forward. Only there are limits to what forward can and can’t be.”

  Delilah turned, sorrow etching creases beside her eyes. “Can we sit for a few minutes?” Maggie shrugged.

  The woman crossed to the sofa and sat down. “Come. Sit.”

  She did as she was told.

  “You’re struggling, aren’t you?”

  And like a dam bursting, the tears began to flow. Maggie felt Delilah’s arms pulling her close as the tears turned into sobs and her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.

  Seconds flowed into minutes and minutes into longer, but still Delilah held her. There was no hurrying. No attempt to hush the sounds with empty words. And for that, Maggie was grateful.

  Finally, she was able to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, Delilah. I didn’t mean to go on like that. Really, I’m doing better. I’m trying, anyway.”

  The woman peered at her closely. “Go on like what? You’re hurting. You’ve been through a lot in your relatively short life.”

  “Sometimes I’m afraid I’m never going to stop crying.”

  “But you do. And it’s in those moments that you take your steps.” Delilah pushed a strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear.

  She nodded. “Those steps can only go so far, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt like I have this past year ever again.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie, but I don’t understand.”

  Pulling her feet onto the sofa, she wrapped her arms around her legs. “When my parents died, I was devastated. One minute I was a normal, happy kid and the next…I was an orphan, taken in by a well-meaning aunt who did her best. But it wasn’t my family—mine was ripped from my world in the blink of an eye.”

  Delilah touched Maggie’s knee and gave a gentle squeeze. “Ahhh, and then, when you finally had your own family…you lost them, as well.”

  She turned to look at her. “I couldn’t survive that a third time.”

  “Those two incidents were unrelated, Maggie. You have to know that.”

  Dropping her feet back to the ground, she stood and made her way to the window, which overlooked one of the five fingers of Lake Shire. “But don’t you see? They were related.”

  “How? They happened more than twenty years apart.”

  Maggie lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the weak winter sunlight shimmering atop the water. “They both had me in common.”

  Delilah sucked in her breath. “You?”

  “Those were my parents…and my husband and child.”

  In a second Delilah was beside her at the window, her gently lined hand grabbing hold of Maggie’s upper arm. “And they were accidents, hon. Unfortunate, tragic, unrelated accidents.”

  “My heart was broken as a result, both times. I won’t put myself in a position to have it happen a third time. I can’t.” Placing her hand on top of Delilah’s, she gave a gentle squeeze. “My heart can’t take this kind of hurt ever again.”

  “So then you do have feelings for Rory?”

  Maggie turned back to the window, inhaling the courage she needed to say the words that had to be said. “It doesn’t matter whether I do or not. All that matters is I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Does it really matter?” She pointed toward the water. “When I was a little girl, I used to sit out on that lake and wish for a second chance at love. A grown-up kind of love that I naively thought would be forever. Eventually, when the time was right, I got that second chance. Only it didn’t last forever. It, too, got ripped away. And the hurt was a million times worse the second time around. In fact, if I could, I’d go with them. Now.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “But it’s true.”

  “Did you wish you were dead when you were making those frames the other day? Or when Virginia was falling all over herself wanting to hire you to make one for her?”

  “No. Not at that moment.”

  “Did you wish you were dead when you were walking through the gift shop in the village, envisioning what it might be like if it were yours?”

  “No. But I…wait. How do you know about that?”

  “Rory told me.”

  “Rory,” she repeated softly. “Somehow that man has elbowed his way into whatever part of my heart remains intact.”

  “But don’t you see? That’s a good thing.”

  “Not if something happens to him, as seems to be the case with everyone I touch.”

  “So you’re willing to let another chance slip through your fingers based on a what-if?”

  “If it means keeping Rory safe…yes.”

  Horror chased confusion from Delilah’s eyes. “Tell me you don’t believe your loved ones were cursed because of you.”

  Maggie shrugged. “How can I not?”

  “Because that’s not the way life works.” Gentle arms enveloped her in a hug. “Aren’t you glad you had those early years with your parents?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

  “And the time with your husband and daughter?”

  “The same.”

  “Then why would
you cheat yourself out of time with another wonderful person? They’re what make life worth living.” Delilah’s arms loosened their grip and Maggie stepped back. “He cares about you, Maggie. He really does.”

  “I know.” And she did. “He’s been so kind and so supportive and…”

  “And what?”

  She stared at the floor, unsure of what to say and how to say it. Finally, she simply shrugged.

  “Let him be all those things. It’s a wonderful gift to have someone in your corner. It truly is. And he believes in you, Maggie. If he didn’t, he never would have shown you that shop yesterday.”

  Delilah was right.

  “The day I brought you your frame, he’d shown up on my doorstep with a box of craft supplies. Said he found it in one of the empty rooms at the inn.”

  A corner of Delilah’s mouth twitched.

  “Oh, trust me…I know he didn’t find it. But that’s what got me going again. That’s what got me—”

  “Hoping again?”

  Maggie tried the woman’s words on for size, even though she knew they were the perfect fit. But the delay gave her time—time to get a handle on the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks for what had to be the hundredth time that day. “Hoping that maybe I can have another chance.”

  “Then don’t set boundaries before you see where it can take you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She peered at her reflection in the mirror, finding that the hint of hope, as well as her plans for the evening, had brought an unfamiliar shine to her eyes. A shine that was more than a little welcome.

  For hours after Delilah left, Maggie had sat at the kitchen table making lists—items she felt would do well in the shop, steps she needed to take to market the store, custom-order work she could offer to increase her appeal. The fact that she talked through some of her thoughts using things she’d learned from Jack only served as proof of his lasting place in her heart.

  The baby items she’d allowed herself to consider had been a bit more difficult, but even with that she’d found a way to honor her daughter. Everlasting Smiles would be a line of custom-order frames created for the sole purpose of marking various milestones in a child’s life—First Step, First Smile, First Birthday, etc. Each frame would have a tiny leaf emblem on the back as a reminder of Natalie’s first smile.

  It was as if Delilah’s visit had unlocked a door in Maggie’s heart, giving her access to a place where there were no walls between the past and the present, and where the future could coexist with both of them.

  Her future.

  Inhaling courage into her lungs, Maggie rummaged through her purse until she found the directions she’d used less than a week earlier. She knew there was no guarantee Rory would be home, but it was a chance she was willing to take. She owed him that much.

  She stepped into the hall, stopping to retrieve the packages she and Delilah had left outside the door. The least Maggie could do was give him the opportunity to hand them to her as he’d intended.

  After she apologized. And after she said thank-you.

  The drive to Rory’s house was shorter than she remembered, despite the frequent stops she made to grab real-estate flyers along the way. A few of the places she checked out were mother-in-law quarters. Although not her ideal, it was certainly an option to consider, at least until Maggie knew whether her shop would succeed.

  Her shop.

  It was hard to believe she’d been in Lake Shire less than a week. She’d arrived at her uncle’s inn with a heart so heavy it threatened to stop beating. Yet now, it was lighter somehow.

  She made the final turn onto Rory’s street, finding his house easy to pick out thanks to the colorful lights from the Christmas tree that graced his front room. Slipping the car into Park, she turned off the engine and sat staring up at the place.

  There was so much she wanted to say to him. So many ideas about the shop she wanted to share. But there was a part of her that was afraid, too.

  For days he’d gone out of his way to be nice. And when she hadn’t been actively pushing him away, she’d been holding him at arm’s length.

  Except when they kissed.

  She closed her eyes at the memory of his lips on hers, her heart rate accelerating on cue. She hadn’t dreamed of anything like that when she came to Lake Shire. And wasn’t sure she’d ever want it again.

  But it had been special nonetheless.

  Because he was special.

  Rory O’Brien was the kind of person who made you feel good. His positive outlook, encouraging spirit and thoughtful ways were rare gifts. And he had them all. The fact that he wanted to share them with her was nothing short of a blessing.

  She stepped from the car armed with the bags he’d left and a little something extra she’d tucked inside her purse. Slowly, she made her way up to the door, her determination to do the right thing overshadowed by a fear that seemed to grow with each step she took.

  What if he was angry? What if he slammed the door and told her to go home? What if he simply didn’t answer?

  “He cares about you, Maggie. He really does.”

  With any luck, Delilah was right. Just as she seemed to be about everything else…

  Maggie knocked, and the footsteps she heard brought a smile to her lips that only grew wider when they came face-to-face.

  “Maggie?”

  “Hi. I hope you don’t mind that I just stopped by.” She lifted the items he’d left. “But it looks as if you wanted to give me something.”

  A dimple appeared in first one cheek and then the other. “And you—Little Miss I Don’t Like Surprises—didn’t peek?”

  “Nope. So I figured I’d bring them over here along with something else.”

  “Something else?” he asked.

  A squadron of butterflies took flight in her stomach the moment he cocked his head to study her. She gulped. “Yes.”

  “Do you plan on cluing me in?”

  She considered making him wait, stringing him along the way he had done to her about the shop. But in the end she relented, her mouth desperate to do something other than find his. “I brought an apology.”

  “You don’t owe me any apologies.”

  “I don’t agree.” A gust of wind kicked up and skittered across the front porch, making her teeth chatter. “I—I was w-wrong—”

  He reached for her and tugged her inside, closing the door against the cold. “If you insist on apologizing, I insist you come inside. Your uncle will have my hide if you get sick standing on my front porch.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Partially because Rory had such a sweet way of putting things and partially because she knew he was right.

  “Can I take your coat?” he asked as he took the packages from her hands and set them on a hall table.

  Nodding, she allowed him to slip it off her shoulders. “I don’t want to barge in on your night, so I won’t stay long. I just—”

  “Barge in on my night? Are you kidding?” He hung her coat on a hook beside the door and then turned to face her. “Your being here makes my night.”

  She felt her face warm at his words. “I just wanted to apologize for ignoring your knock last night and again this morning. It’s just that…well, I was in a bad place and I didn’t know how to get out.”

  For a moment he said nothing, his gaze playing across her face before skimming slowly down her body, the gesture making her glad she’d taken the time to put on a nice pair of black corduroy pants and a white V-neck sweater. The boots had been an afterthought, one he seemed to like based on the appreciative double take they earned. When his visual inventory was done, he offered a smile that nearly melted her knees. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  “No, it’s not,” she protested. “You’ve been so nice to me since the beginning. You’ve listened to me. You’ve encouraged me. You’ve done so many sweet things. All of which leads me to the second reason for my visit.”

  He brought his hand to the
small of her back and guided her toward the hearth room. “Don’t say another word. Not until you come in and sit down.”

  She did as she was told, sinking onto the couch beside his muscular frame. When she’d caught her breath, she continued, though his sheer presence made it hard to focus on anything besides him. “I wanted to say thank-you. Everything you’ve done for me so far has been above and beyond, but the box of craft supplies? Well, that was my puff of air.”

  “Puff of air?”

  “To get my wings up off the floor,” she explained, her voice growing quiet as she pondered the enormity of what she was saying—what she hoped to get across. “I’ve been so lost, Rory. Simply moving through a life I no longer wanted.”

  He grimaced at her words. “Please don’t say that.”

  She brought the tips of her fingers to his lips even as she tried not to remember the way they’d felt against her own. “I still hurt at their loss. And I always will. But making a future for myself doesn’t mean they disappear.”

  The words were so much like the ones Delilah had spoken during their knitting lesson, words that had been hard to take in, yet were everything Maggie needed to hear. She was here because it wasn’t her time.

  “That shop you showed me? I want to give it a go. I want to chase that dream…see where it leads.” She felt him studying her closely, yet she didn’t mind. “It’s something I considered a long time ago before I had another—far more important—purpose to my days. Now that that purpose is no longer there—” her voice faltered “—I need to find something else to keep my feet moving. Something that will get me through life until I see them again. I think the shop will do that.”

  His brow furrowed momentarily, a frown soon pushed away by a slow, thoughtful smile. “The supplies did that?”

  “You did that.” Her breath hitched when she felt his hand on her face, his thumb wiping away a lone tear. “You keep granting me these wishes I didn’t even realize I had. And they’re changing me…they’re giving me—” She stopped, closed her eyes as his hand caressed her jaw.

  “They’re giving you what?”

  “Hope,” she whispered.