“Obviously.” Karly smiled as she rocked the baby in her arms.
The tiny infant—their tiny infant—sucked her bottom lip and held her fist against her red cheek.
“She needs a name,” Karly remarked.
“Agreed.”
“Do you have your phone?”
“Of course.”
“Look up names that mean ‘gift.’”
“At your service, Mrs. Knight.”
“You didn’t change your mind?”
“Change my mind? About marrying you? After all the hoops I had to jump through? No. Never. You’re mine. Forever. Don’t even think of trying to get out of it now.”
She lifted her head for a kiss, and he happily obliged. His Karly was back. The fire in her eyes made him wish he could sweep her away and keep her to himself, but the loving way she held their daughter tampered that impulse and made him long for lazy evenings on the couch—the three of them.
His party days were over, and he couldn’t be happier.
Tuning back in to the task at hand, he rattled off a few names, and she nixed every one of them.
“Xaria?”
“Yes. Wait, say it again.”
“Xaria. Spelled with an ‘X.’”
“Yes, that’s the one. But maybe we could change it to a Z. It means gift?”
“Gift of love. Want to see?”
“I’m looking right at her. She looks like a Zaria.”
“Zaria Spring.”
“Ooh, good idea. Because clearly we were wrong about Healing Springs being a misnomer.”
“Shocking that we could be wrong about anything,” Ben said, only half teasing.
“We were wrong about each other. At first.”
“You were wrong about me, but I was never wrong about you.”
“You thought I had an eating disorder!”
“Okay, so I didn’t guess you were pregnant. But I knew you were worthy of pursuit, even when you pushed me away every time I tried to get close.”
“Making you work harder paid off.”
Ben wanted to squeeze her. Yes, it had paid off indeed.
“Well just so you know, I don’t believe in the catch and release program.”
“You’re comparing me to a fish?”
“A really good one. I’ll keep you as a pet.”
“Your daddy is insane, Zaria Spring Knight. You might as well learn this now.”
Ben knelt beside them, stroking the tiny foot that had kicked its way out of the receiving blanket.
“And your mommy is perfection. Might as well learn that, too.”
“I don’t know about that,” Karly chuckled, “but I do know now that two imperfect people can create perfection, even without trying.”
“I love you, Karly. Thank you for teaching me to love.”
“I love you, Ben. Thank you for sticking by me through everything.”
“And thank you, Zaria, for forcing us together in the best possible way.”
As Ben kissed Karly, his beautiful, sexy, courageous, strong wife, their baby cooed for the first time.
Chapter Nineteen
Karly remained in the hospital for two more days, and Ben took that time to get everything ready. He traded in his sports car for a family-appropriate sedan, paid his office assistant extra to shop for nursery supplies and a car seat, and spent every other second with Karly and the baby, who was also expected to be approved for discharge due to her incredible strength and because she didn’t need any special care after the first couple of days.
Their original nurse—the one who had stayed by their side through the entire traumatic birth—beamed with pride when she heard the news. She said it was rare for a 32 weeker to be discharged so fast, but not unheard of.
On the day of discharge, Ben’s nerves tried to get the best of him.
He knew he didn’t have a choice, nor did he want to change anything, but this shit was getting real.
He stopped at Miss Molly’s shop to pick up a box of chocolates and a sappy card for Karly.
“Today’s the day, huh?” Miss Molly questioned him—wanting all the details about what time they’d be discharged, which house they’d be going to, and then insisting on hearing the story of their marriage firsthand from him.
He filled her in the best he could. The short version. He had to hurry to get to the hospital—Karly was texting him.
She was all dressed, packed and ready to go when he dashed up the stairs and into her room. Her excitement was palpable.
“Hurry, let’s go get the baby before they decide to keep her.”
“Did she pass the final car seat test?” Ben asked. The nurses in the NICU had asked him to bring the car seat in the day before. Zaria had to be able to sit in the car seat for an hour without having any episodes of apnea or bradycardia, which shouldn’t have been a problem since her breathing had been good all along. Still, his heart raced as he awaited her answer.
“She should be finishing it up as we speak.”
Sure enough, Zaria Spring scored an A plus on her test and was discharged happily by the doctor and nurses.
Ben couldn’t get over how much enjoyment he got out of escorting his new bride and new baby out of the hospital. Strapping the car seat into the car was a breeze, thanks to Officer Jenkins putting the base in properly for Ben the day before.
Ben kissed Karly before he closed her car door. This was the beginning.
Zaria began to cry on the way home, and Karly gripped her breasts.
“Holy sh—shenanigans. Her crying makes my boobs kill. Do you think she’s all right?”
“We’re almost home.”
Stopped at the one red light in town, Ben laughed as he saw the makeshift parade trudging down Main Street. So this was why Miss Molly wanted the details.
The fire engine’s siren blared, Officer Jenkins drove the police cruiser while Officer Wright wove in and out of the marching band’s formation on his police bicycle. The senior center’s prized old-fashioned Cadillac rumbled by with Miss Molly in the passenger seat trying to tape the “Welcome Baby” banner back on the side of the car. A group of moms and dads, probably yanked from the town common’s park, shuffled by with their babies in strollers and young kids tossing candy to the onlookers.
Ben had never had a family. Now he had an entire town. And, for once, he felt part of the pack.
“I can’t believe they did this for us.” Karly shook her head and smiled, resting her hand on his knee.
“Zaria seems to like the commotion.” Ben couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he looked into the back seat to watch his baby girl’s wise eyes widening.
“You know what I like?” Karly slid her hand up his thigh and leaned over to kiss his neck.
“I don’t know, but I like your hand on me.”
“I like you. Everything about you.”
“Remember that when I leave my socks on the floor or forget to put the toilet seat down.”
“Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought of all the perils of living with a boy.”
“I promise to always do my best to only drive you crazy in the best ways.”
“And I’ll do the same.”
As the parade procession ended on the town common, the traffic light turned green, signaling the start of a new chapter in their reformed lives.
Loving a Wildflower - Chapter One
“I’ll take him!”
Simplicity waved her hand in the air, eager to accept a challenge. The ladies at the senior center had spent the entire morning bemoaning the fact that the woman who had been caring for Ethan Witherford had moved away so suddenly. No one wanted to add him to their workload, but how bad could one old guy be? Many of them started out cranky, but within minutes, Simplicity had them smiling and telling her she was a gift.
“Put your hand down, Simplicity. We need someone with experience dealing with grump.”
“I have plenty of experience.”
“He’s a tough one to handle.”
Mrs. Reynolds smiled the patronizing smile Simplicity had become accustomed to from her. She was a nice one and all, but she had been discouraging Simplicity ever since Simplicity had begged her way onto the volunteer committee at the senior center four months ago.
Who would have thought she’d have to beg her way onto a volunteer committee?
Simplicity shook her head.
“Have you met my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Rogan? Honestly, if I can handle his cantankerous face every day, this Ethan Whatshisname will be a breeze.”
“Rogan is a ray of sunshine compared to Ethan.”
“Remember how Mr. Howard was when I started? He threw a potted plant at me because he thought I was breaking in to steal his wooden ducks. Now he harasses you on the days I’m not working, asking when I’ll be back.”
“You did work miracles with him, I’ll give you that.”
“Let me try.” Simplicity leaned across the table, her eyes pleading and her lips pursed into a pout. “Pretty please? If I can’t handle it, I’ll tell you. But if I can, then none of you will have to take him on.”
“Listen, dearie, you’re new to town still. You don’t know—”
“Oh, let the girl give it a try.” Miss Molly, town matriarch and co-leader of the committee, adjusted her eye patch as she stared at Mrs. Reynolds. Miss Molly had lost an eye many years ago, but she made the most of it with fashionable eye patches for every occasion. Today’s was a fur-fringed winter scene with a blue background and boldly colored snowflakes.
“I love your new patch, Miss Molly,” Simplicity complimented.
“Thank you. My sweet niece started making them for me. I told her to put them up on eBay—they could be the next big thing.”
“Yes, she should open one of those online craft shops, if she’s into that whole technology thing,” Simplicity agreed, nodding emphatically. “My ex-boyfriend used to sell my beach jewelry online—made enough money to take him out to eat at a fancy vegan restaurant.”
“Back to business, ladies.” Mrs. Reynolds clapped her hands together. “And gentleman. Harvey, are you sure you want to join our committee?”
Harvey, lovingly known as the town drunk, hiccupped.
“I owe Jenkins some community service or he’s gonna start sending me up to Grafton County jail. Why should public intoxication be punishable, anyway? Don’t anyone care about the Constitution anymore?”
“We could have Harvey take care of Ethan,” Mrs. Clyde suggested, lifting her attention from the Vogue magazine she had been flipping through.
“No. It’s settled.” Miss Molly tapped the table with her pen. “Simplicity Peterson, you’ll check in with Ethan Witherford three times per week. You’ll deliver groceries as specified on the list in his folder.”
Mrs. Reynolds interrupted. “He likes people to be in and out as quickly as possible. I wouldn’t try to talk to him much. He’s got a chip on his shoulder that could make that giant tree house Quentin Elliott built in the town common look like a toy dollhouse.”
“Just go on in and be yourself, sweetie.”
Simplicity couldn’t contain her dimple-inducing grin as she leaned across the table to snatch the blue folder from Miss Molly’s hands.
The group had tried to discourage Simplicity from joining the committee. Not overtly, of course. But their efforts weren’t subtle enough to slip past Simplicity’s highly sensitive people-meter.
Since the youngest person in the group had been fifty-four-years-old, the idea of having a twenty-six-year-old onboard didn’t thrill them. They made remarks about the members being life-long citizens of Healing Springs, while Simplicity had only been there for a couple of months after following her sister, Freedom, to town. They spoke of commitment and how the people they helped relied on them. Heck, they drew up a contract that Simplicity could tell had never been required before, though they all nodded their permed heads and batted their stubby eyelashes and raised their painted-on eyebrows in innocence.
She’d prove herself.
Not just to them. Not just to Freedom.
But also to herself.
She could do this.
She had to.
***
Simplicity liked to put her own spin on this volunteer thing, which is why she had picked up a tray of Tiana’s pastries from the downtown diner and was standing on the front step of her newest client’s house, even though she wasn’t scheduled to begin until tomorrow.
She’d introduce herself and welcome him to her client list.
He’d be so impressed with her personal touch—maybe he’d even write her a commendation letter to add to her file. The rest of the committee would be envious of her natural talent with people. Maybe she’d score a paid position in the town.
Planting roots would be no problem at all.
Easy peasy.
The doorbell didn’t seem to work, so she knocked on the door.
Still no response.
The February sun had set early, so though it was only a little after five o’clock, darkness had already set in. She didn’t see any slivers of light through the tightly drawn curtains on the windows of the house.
Maybe he wasn’t home.
She had only skimmed his file, but she had noticed that he wasn’t restricted to staying home. And she made sure to verify that he had no diet restrictions before bringing him all this sugar… She wasn’t about to make that mistake again!
Simplicity sighed. Her big moment was being ruined by the cranky old geezer’s independence.
She didn’t want to leave the tray of snacks outside for the opportunistic squirrels, and Freedom would kill her if she found out that Simplicity had spent money on this volunteer position, so she couldn’t bring them home. Freedom was annoyed enough that Simplicity had taken on a full-time volunteer job rather than finding gainful employment.
Simplicity tried to open the door—most people in Healing Springs didn’t bother with locks.
No luck.
There had to be a spare key here somewhere. She’d leave the tray on the counter and Mr. Witherford would be pleasantly surprised when he arrived home.
Simplicity looked in all the obvious places—under the mat, over the doorframe, around the potted plant. Nothing.
A squeaky noise pulled her attention back to the door, which had somehow opened about two inches.
“Mr. Witherford?” She hadn’t heard anybody, yet the door had started to swing open. She knocked on the door again. It opened wide.
She stepped inside, her heart pounding.
She peered into the darkness, startled when she realized she was looking directly at the shooting end of a gun.
Simplicity nearly dropped her cookies, but managed to tighten her grip as she tried to relax her rushing blood.
“Who are you and why were you trying to let yourself in?”
The voice, younger than she had expected, was low and menacing. Though fear chilled her veins quicker than the Polar Plunge she had participated in last year in Maine, the deep, manly tone washed across her skin like hot oil during a massage.
She shivered and straightened her spine.
“I’m looking for Mr. Witherford. I was assigned to help him out. With the Happy Helpers. Is he here?”
“Right in front of you.”
He sounded too young. She had thought they only helped the elderly. Apparently she hadn’t asked the right questions. Or read his full file.
He didn’t say anything, and she had the uncontrollable urge to fill in the silence.
“You know Miss Molly? She picked me to do his, I mean, your, shopping.”
“What happened to Bea?”
“She moved. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
He lowered the gun, but didn’t say a word.
She blinked, hoping her vision would clear enough to see his eyes. She firmly believed that eye contact would bring them to the same spiritual plane, and then he’d know he could trust her.
She squinted, but all she could see were br
oad shoulders and a hooded head. Shadows covered his face while the hood acted as a shield, preventing her from getting a good look.
She didn’t have to see him to feel the tiny trace of sadness that lingered around him once he heard that the woman who had been caring for him had moved suddenly.
How could nobody have told him? She couldn’t imagine how betrayed he must feel.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Simplicity Peterson. I haven’t lived here long, so maybe you haven’t heard of me.”
She forced her voice to sound more cheerful than she felt.
“You may know of my sister, Freedom Peterson? She goes by ‘Reed.’ She bought the old cottage motel up on—”
“I don’t care.”
Well, then. He certainly had no interest in small talk.
Remembering why she had stopped by there in the first place, she held the tray out toward him.
“I stopped by to bring you a gift.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“I thought it would be the nice thing to do.”
“Did someone dare you to come see the beast?”
She laughed. The tension in the room increased.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were kidding.”
Silence met the death of her giggle.
“Your name suits you.”
She didn’t think he meant that as a compliment…
She cleared her throat.
“Anyway, I can see that you’re not feeling up to company, and I wasn’t due to come here until tomorrow, so I’ll just leave these and go.”
He didn’t step forward to grab the tray.
She looked around, wishing he’d have the decency to turn on a light so she could at least find a place to set the tray down.
“Where would you like…”
He stepped to the side and gestured for her to go to his left.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, thrilled that her voice maintained some semblance of strength in spite of the terror this man evoked. “I can’t see anything.”
He reached out his hand, and she assumed he was reaching for the tray. She started to let go of it, but he didn’t have a firm grip. She gasped as the tray plummeted to the floor, losing its flimsy cover and allowing her careful selection of cookies and éclairs and dainty cinnamon rolls to rain over him and the floor.
Two Is a Lonely Number Page 18