by Lois Richer
He hadn’t changed much. But somehow, today Jordan had seemed more human. Less bossy than usual. Less angry. He hadn’t laughed at her, not really. He’d even seemed to understand.
And he had said he would be there if she needed him.
Caitlin tugged the thick softness around her ears, allowing a smile to curve her tired mouth. It would be nice to have a friend to call on if she needed one. Even if that friend was a know-it-all, Type A personality like Jordan Andrews.
She lay there a long time, thinking about him, remembering. The rugged, jutting angles of his handsome face filled her mind’s eye. A girl could get used to those strong arms and broad shoulders. Once, a long time ago, she’d even wanted to stay there and hide. But that was then and Jordan had never returned her foolish affections, not the way she wanted.
Caitlin mocked her wayward thoughts. She wasn’t a little girl any more. She knew all about life. Just as you got used to having that shoulder to lean on, it would disappear and you’d have to start on your own all over again. She knew that better than anyone. It had happened too many times to count and Caitlin wasn’t a slow learner.
But she was in control of her own life now, looking out for herself. It was the way the world was. She was an orphan and a widow, on her own, expecting a baby. Her husband was gone. God expected her to grow up, dig her heels in, and manage her life as best she could.
She couldn’t depend on anyone else. And especially not Jordan.
She had only herself.
“It will be enough,” she told herself, thrusting away the memory of those glowing gold eyes. It had to be.
Chapter Two
“I’m completely settled in at the house, Caitlin. It’s great!” Beth’s enthusiasm was contagious, even over the phone line. “You call me when you’re ready to move anything, okay? I know lots of people who’d be happy to help an attractive pregnant little widow like you.”
“Oh, brother!” Caitlin yawned, delighted to be able to relax on a Friday evening, knowing she didn’t have to get up early tomorrow.
“After all,” Beth added, “it’ll be easier for the old poker faces uptown to keep track of us brazen hussies once we’re all in the same place.”
Caitlin giggled, snuggling her mug of tea against her cheek as she slouched in her favorite chair. She ignored the packing boxes scattered about her apartment.
“I know what you mean. They call us the Widows of Wintergreen. Isn’t it awful?”
Beth sniffed. “At least they’re leaving someone else alone when they gossip about us. That’s good. Isn’t it?”
Caitlin knew everyone in town expected fireworks when Garrett Winthrop finally met up with Beth, his high school fiancée. She could just imagine that the hottest topic on coffee row had reached Beth’s ears days ago. She sympathized with the frustration in her friend’s voice.
“They’ll find someone else pretty soon, Beth. How’d your first week of business go?”
“It’s been a smashing success.” Beth’s voice brightened. “Veronica came after school today and we unpacked those Christmas things. I can hardly wait to open officially. As soon as I get some fresh stock, that is.” She giggled.
“I’m like a little kid! I’ve never wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving and Jesus’ birth as much as I do this year. I can hardly wait. I feel as if I’m going to do really well in my first year of business.”
“Good for you. Just keep that attitude, kiddo. You’ll show ‘em!”
Beth’s flower shop was the new love of her life and she gladly shared it with anyone who listened. The fact that her sister had willingly pitched in to help get things ready was a big weight off Beth’s shoulders.
“How was your day?” Beth’s voice softened.
It had been twelve hours to forget, Caitlin conceded privately. Nothing had gone right. Her alarm clock declined to ring at the appointed hour, allowing little time for Caitlin’s usually prolonged morning routine and no time at all to relax and contemplate her future life at Wintergreen or the advent of Jordan Andrews.
“You don’t want to know, Beth. Pregnancy might increase your waist, but it does not increase your ability to tolerate certain stubborn people.” She launched into an account of a client at the counseling place where she worked.
“So you didn’t advise him to go back and ask Mommy for her fat-laden recipe for fried green tomatoes?” Beth giggled at the telling silence, then switched topics. “I heard you had a visitor.”
The town gossips. Privacy in Oakburn was an almost impossible feat. Which was why, up until now, Caitlin had always kept mostly to herself. In Oakburn, most of the women her age had husbands and a family to keep them busy. She had friends at work certainly, but they had never become very close.
It had been relatively easy to stay a loner with Michael’s parents on an extended holiday overseas, but they were back now. In fact, she’d received a call only this morning. Caitlin pushed aside the guilty reminder that she still hadn’t told them about the baby. They just wanted to see her, they said. Caitlin knew it was time to tell them herself, before someone else did.
Her high school friends Maryann and Beth had come back to Oakburn within weeks of each other, and with them, Caitlin had felt as if an old connection was restored. They didn’t ask a lot of questions, but she knew they were there and that they cared. It helped.
“You’ve been visiting the cronies on coffee row, I see, Beth. Yes, my brother-in-law Jordan is back. He drove me home last night.” And stirred up a few unhappy memories while he was at it.
“Good! He can help you move your stuff tomorrow. It’s time you got settled in here before the snow flies for good. That baby isn’t going to wait forever.”
“I know.” Caitlin yawned again. “I keep meaning to do it, but something else always gets in the way.”
“Procrastination is no excuse. Ask him. Right away!”
“I don’t want to ask him. He’ll bulldoze his way in here and take over everything. I want my move to Wintergreen to be happy, not frustrating. Jordan is just too bossy.”
“Caitlin, you can do this. And from what I hear, your Jordan has a good strong back and great strong arms, which are exactly what you need.”
“I don’t need him, Beth,” she insisted stubbornly. “I can manage.”
“How?”
A long, drawn out pause hung between them.
“You find someone and find them quickly. You should have been moved and settled in weeks ago. You know Maryann and I can be over there in two minutes to help.” Beth waited a moment. “Do you hear me, Caitlin Andrews?”
“Yes, mother.” Caitlin hung up the phone with a smile, knowing her old friend was only trying to help. And help wasn’t a bad thing right now, she decided, glancing around the messy room.
Boxes littered the worn gray carpet. Some would go to Wintergreen, some would go to Goodwill. It was time to part with Michael’s stuff, to give it to someone who could use it. It was time to move on. Embrace the future.
Why did that thought fill her with terror?
The doorbell rang. When her caller wouldn’t let up on the annoying chimes, Caitlin yanked the door open, knowing from the sinking feeling in her stomach, exactly who would be standing there.
“What do you want, Jordan?” She hadn’t meant to sound so cranky and immediately regretted her harsh tone.
He lounged in the doorway, a wounded look on his face. Her eyes widened at the two brown paper bags he pulled from behind his back.
“Try to do someone a favor and that’s the thanks you get! I brought you dinner. Chinese food.”
“I already have something on for dinner,” she said even as her mouth watered at the spicy smells of egg roll and something else. Shrimp?
“Yeah, right. And I’m a monkey’s uncle.”
She had to smile at that. It was too good an opportunity.
“I am not carrying a monkey,” she protested, knowing full well it would do little good to argue with her brother-in-law in his current
mood.
“But thank you very much for the food. I’ll enjoy it.” Gently she eased the door closed in his startled face. His booted foot barely stopped it from clicking shut.
“Hey,” he hollered. “That’s not nice.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose there’s enough for two. Or three. Come on in,” she relented, smiling as she flung the door wide.
He smiled and walked in, closing the door behind him. She knew he was ready with a smart repartee, but the words died as his mouth dropped open and he blinked while the smoke alarm began its shrill summons.
Caitlin hurried toward the kitchen. The acrid odor of burning cheese and clouds of thick smoke rendered the kitchen atmosphere blue.
‘I told you I had something on,” she reminded Jordan as she heaved open the window to let in some fresh air. When the noise didn’t stop, she grabbed a knife and attempted to force the toaster oven to yield its charred remains of what had been her cheese sandwich. It wouldn’t budge.
Jordan flicked the alarm off, waved a dish towel back and forth and then reset the unit. It immediately started its high-pitched whine again.
After dumping the smoking bits of charcoal into the garbage, Caitlin pivoted to face him. The alarm had finally stopped but left behind an aching in her temples that she didn’t need. The emotions of the day rose to the fore and there was no way she could stifle her bad mood.
“I have been making myself dinner for quite some time now,” she told him. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“Toast is not dinner,” he returned calmly, stepping around her to put his bags on the table. He pulled several different cartons from the bags and set them carefully on the table. “And I know very well that Chinese is your favorite, so forget the furious rebuttal.” He grinned that wide boyish smile that would make a weaker woman swoon at his feet.
“I don’t listen to it anyway,” he reminded her, his lopsided smirk firmly in place.
“That, my dear Jordan, is at the very root of our problems.”
He ignored her frown, flopping down onto one of her kitchen chairs. “It’s just dinner, Lyn. Don’t make such a big deal of it.”
Yeah, just dinner! Caitlin pressed a hand to her stomach, wondering how her traitorous body would react to this feast. She was starving, but had no desire to repeat lunchtime’s woes. Especially not in front of him.
Morning sickness was supposed to be over months ago, wasn’t it? So how come she still had it at noon when a colleague unwrapped an egg salad sandwich? Or in the evening after she’d finished a bowl of hot buttery popcorn? Why didn’t anything in her life go according to plan?
She couldn’t help lifting the lids, just to see what he’d brought.
“I’ll just have some of the chop suey,” she decided eventually, spooning the brightly colored vegetables onto her plate. “And a bit of rice.”
Surely rice would settle her stomach.
Her senses caught the vinegary-sweet fragrance of sweet-and-sour sauce as she lifted the other lids. When her tummy growled again, she gave in and ladled out three slivers of beef nestled in a glistening orange-red sauce.
“Just a little,” she declared as he inspected her dish, grinning as it grew fuller by the moment. Caitlin ignored his smug look and sat down, mouth watering at the feast before her.
Jordan’s murmured words of thanks to God for His goodness irritated her unreasonably. She supposed it was because she felt so tired, so abandoned. Where was God when she needed Him most? Certainly not anywhere that Caitlin had been able to find Him lately.
They ate silently together, enjoying the freshly steamed vegetables and succulent bits of pork and beef. She wasn’t surprised to see there was no chicken. Jordan hated chicken in any way, shape or form.
Partway through the meal, Caitlin set up the coffeepot, giving in to a day-long craving for caffeine. More than anything she wanted a cup of coffee right now, and she wanted it to stay put in her stomach, where it was supposed to be. Perhaps then she would have enough energy to handle Jordan’s bossiness.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asked idly from his perch on the other side of her kitchen.
All her magnanimous goodwill vanished at the peremptory remark. The stress of pretending they were good friends, that there was nothing between them, that he was just a friend, made Caitlin’s blood begin to boil. It was the proverbial last straw in a day full of frustration and she whirled around.
“Yes, Jordan, I think coffee is a very good idea right now.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off before he got started on his lecture.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be stretched so far your stomach has no room to hold your meal? To have someone constantly kicking you from the inside? To be nauseated by the very food that attracted you only moments ago?”
She clapped her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing at the amusement on his face. “Well, do you?”
Caitlin Andrews was quite a sight when she got mad, Jordan decided, admiring the sparkling green eyes and reddish flash of color in the fall of curling chestnut-brown hair. He smiled to himself, thankful to see her old spirit return.
“Of course you don’t know,” she raged at him. “How could you? You’re a man!”
Jordan winced at the particularly nasty ring she gave to the last word. Caitlin was tired and out of sorts, that was for sure. He was glad he hadn’t told his parents anything about seeing her yesterday. She was too bushed right now to handle any more than a phone call from them. He got up and walked across the kitchen, taking her arm in his and escorting her back to her chair.
She sank into it after a moment of consideration. He knew it was because she was too tired to stand. One long fingernail shook in the air at him, emphasizing her annoyance.
“Well, let me tell you, buster. I know. And I’m sick and tired of it!”
Big shiny tears welled in her turbulent green eyes. She stared at her hands, refusing to look at him. Jordan watched the tiredness swamp her body, leaving her slumped and vulnerable.
He felt like a heel for laughing at her. It couldn’t be easy, having a baby. And if anyone knew all the rules to follow, it was his sister-in-law. She was a nutritionist, for Pete’s sake! Jordan lambasted himself for saying anything. She hardly required him to tell her what her body needed.
He moved quickly to wrap one long arm around her shoulders.
“It’s okay, Lyn. Cry it out. Soon the baby will be here and you’ll be back to your old self. Everything will be…”
“Awful,” she wailed, setting him back on his heels.
He shook his head in disbelief. It was amazing. Strong, capable, fiercely independent Lyn now dissolved into a soft mound of whimpers and tears. How had this happened? What was he doing wrong?
“Nothing’s going the way I thought it would, Jordan. I don’t know anything about having a baby, let alone raising a child.” She gulped, her face pinched. “I’m scared witless at the thought of it. I grew up with Aunt Lucy after my parents died. How do I know what to say when my child asks me questions I can’t answer.”
Her big green eyes begged him to help. Jordan had never felt so totally useless in his life. He didn’t know how to comfort her, didn’t know the words to say to help her through this.
Please, God, show me what to do. Help me now, he pleaded silently.
“I’m so tired, Jordan,” she continued. “Right now all I want is to be able to walk without lumbering around like an elephant. I want to do up the buttons on my clothes and not see gaps in between.”
Her sad face squinted up at him. “I want to be able to sleep more than two hours at a time. Isn’t that selfish?”
He patted her shoulder awkwardly, searching for something, anything, to comfort her.
“I want Michael.”
Pain, sharp, sweet and condemning hit him. Jordan ignored it, as he had in the past, focusing his attention on the weeping young woman before him. He hadn’t done anything wrong then. He wo
uldn’t now. She was his brother’s wife.
“Lyn, I know what you’ve been going through,” he offered quietly, trying to calm her.
It was the wrong thing to say.
“Ooh, you are so frustrating, Jordan Andrews!” She yanked her shoulder away from his touch, eyes blazing. “You always think you know everything. Well you don’t know what I’m going through at all!”
She jerked to her feet, her chair falling sideways, stopped only by his knee. He winced at the impact, brushed the heavy oak chair aside and then winced again as the chair hit the floor.
Hard and loud, the sound reverberated through the quiet room emphasizing the tension that strung out between them. He could feel the heat radiating across his knee from the old football injury. He absently rubbed his hand against the stinging flesh.
It was actually kind of funny. He’d gotten that injury because he’d been watching Caitlin instead of the offensive end headed his way. Now he’d been broadsided again.
“Oh, dear! It’s your bad knee, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Jordan,” she groaned. “I’m really sorry.” She set the chair back in place and sat down on it.
He smiled at her contrite face. “It’s okay. And you’re right, Lyn. I don’t know how you’re feeling right now. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
He resumed eating. Without looking at her, he pushed the rice to one side, then spooned several more beef strips onto his plate in an attempt to avoid her eyes, waiting to see if she would open up.
“I really am sorry. I had no right to take out my bad humor on you. I should have been more careful.” Her small hand reached out to cover his in a soft touch.
“It doesn’t matter.” Jordan sat there, feeling like a lump of putty, mesmerized by the plucky little smile that tipped up her mouth.
“Yes, it does matter. My only excuse is that I’m not very good at managing everything yet,” she explained with a tremulous smile. “But I will be. I just have to rely on myself and do the best I can.” Her shoulders pressed back as she said it, as if she were drawing on a cloak of armor.
Irritation chafed him. Jordan snapped his fork against the plate with an audible ping.