by Lisa Jordan
Stephen didn’t expect to be talking about the birds and the bees in the baby aisle at Target, but when Ty asked where babies came from, his brain downshifted sharply, grinding gears as he tried to figure out what to say. Trying to buy some time, he dropped two refills of baby wipes into the cart and grabbed a package of diapers. Ty continued to stare at him with those I-asked-a-question-and-will-stare-at-you-until-I-get-my-answer blue eyes.
Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Stephen shifted his weight and leaned forward on the handle of the cart. “Well, Ty, my man, that’s a very good question. Babies are gifts from God, made by moms and dads that they get to take care of. They grow in the mommy’s tummy until they’re healthy enough to be born.”
And any follow-up questions can wait until you’re twelve.
He was so blowing this. Bethany had bought a special book and made Stephen promise he’d have “the talk” when the time was right. The kid was smart, but seriously? In the middle of Target?
“Could we talk more about this at home?”
Ty shrugged. “If you want. Ethan in my class told me the stork brought babies, but I said he was wrong. I told him they came from the hospital. I guess we were both wrong.”
Stephen swallowed a laugh. He dropped to his knees in front of Ty and gave him a hug. “Most babies are born in the hospital, kiddo, so you were partially right.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Was I a gift?”
“Most definitely.”
“Then how come you didn’t want me when I was born?” Ty gnawed on the corner of his lip.
Stephen frowned. “Not want you? Impossible. Where did you get such a crazy thought?”
Ty shrugged. “Remember how we had to take baby pictures into school? You’re not in them. Only Mom is. Ethan said maybe you didn’t like me when I was born.”
“Ethan doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sometimes grown-ups make bad choices. When I was younger, I made a bad choice. I didn’t mean to, but I hurt your mom’s feelings. Mommy had you, but I didn’t know about you until you were two. But I promise, the minute I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted to keep you forever. You’re stuck with me, kid.” Stephen hugged his son.
“Was I a bad choice?” Ty mumbled in Stephen’s shoulder.
Stephen held Ty at arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “No. Never. Not once. You were the best gift. I love you tons. Nothing will ever change that. I promise. Understand?”
Ty nodded. “Will Grandma and Papa still love me after Aunt Melissa’s baby is born?”
“Oh, for sure. You see, love is magical. The more you have and give away, the more it grows. Our hearts get bigger to make room for the special people in our lives. So, yes, Grandma and Papa will still love you just as much, if not more, when the new baby comes.”
“I want a baby brother. Or sister, I guess.”
“Ty, my man. I don’t see that happening for a while.”
“How about a puppy?”
Stephen laughed and ruffled Ty’s hair. “We’ll see.” He straightened and grabbed feeding spoons, sippy cups, a teether, a tube of baby teething gel, tossing them into the cart. He rounded the corner and ran into someone else’s cart parked at the end of the next aisle near the bedding. “Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that.”
He looked up and about swallowed his tongue. Lindsey leaned one shoulder against the shelf and held a baby blanket in each hand.
He hadn’t seen her in a week. Not since the incident in her mother’s kitchen with the Tea Grannies. Each night he drove by Grace’s house, but Lindsey’s car wasn’t in the drive. In the mornings, on his way to work, he checked again, but it wasn’t there. His sister told him Lindsey had been keeping long hours all week.
Seeing him, she dropped both blankets in her cart. She did kind of a half turn and not so subtly brushed her shoulder over her cheek. She flashed him an overly bright smile. “Oh. Hi. I, uh, was just…I…well, your mom called this morning. A last-minute invite to the shower. Didn’t expect me to be in town, you know. But now I am. And I needed a gift.” She glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. I guess I’d better check out so I don’t miss the games. Fun, you know.”
“Lindsey.”
“What?”
“Breathe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She lowered her eyes and toyed with her purse strap, but not before he caught sight of the dark shadows under her eyes. “For eavesdropping. I wanted to walk away, but when Ty asked his question, my feet ignored my brain and decided to stay put.” She looked at him, eyes shimmering like new marbles. “You are a terrific father. Ty’s lucky to have you.” Her voice choked on the last word.
But before he could say anything, she maneuvered her cart around his and half walked, half jogged down the aisle, around the corner and out of sight.
An hour later, Stephen slid the large box covered in cartoon-animal-printed wrapping paper out of the back of the SUV and hefted it on his shoulder. The rich scents of oak and stain permeated the cardboard and paper.
He strode up the sidewalk. Laughter filtered into the foyer as he opened the front door and followed the sound to the living room.
Setting the box on the floor near the staircase, he gazed toward the front door, wishing he could be at the movies with his dad and son. Ma insisted he bring it to the shower this afternoon. Something about the other women wanting to see it.
Leaning against the doorjamb, he resisted rolling his eyes as he took in the activities. A guy could lose his man card if he stayed here too long. It looked like Babies “R” Us had exploded in Ma’s living room.
Pastel pink and blue balloons floated in the air like silent guests, their matching ribbons swaying in the breeze from the open windows.
Mel sat in Dad’s overstuffed recliner with wrapped packages sitting at her feet. She dug through yellow tissue paper and pulled out a stuffed giraffe and a matching outfit. Oohs and aahs filled his ears as she passed the gift to the person next to her.
He recognized many of the guests seated around the perimeter of the room. Women from church. Mel’s morning Bible study. Coworkers from the elementary school where she worked as a substitute teacher. And, of course, the Tea Grannies with their lacy sweaters and orthopedic shoes. And Lindsey.
Sure enough. She sat in the corner of the room with her legs crossed and a hand wrapped around a yellow paper cup. Her lips curved into a smile, but her eyes looked like someone had snuffed out her inner joy. Discreetly, she slid back the sleeve of her light purple sweater and glanced at her watch. She sighed, took a sip from her cup and lifted her eyes.
Her gaze tangled with his. For a moment, he didn’t hear the laughter. Or the rustle of wrapping paper. All he noticed was the way her hair bowed delicately around her chin. The way she touched the diamond stud in her left ear. The way her gold chain rested in the hollow of her neck. He envied that necklace.
“Earth to Stephen.” His mother snapped her fingers in front of her face, bringing his attention back to the present. “How long have you been standing there? You should have said something.”
He forced his eyes away from Lindsey and focused on Ma. “Seriously, Ma, what guy wants to draw attention to himself during a baby shower? As soon as Mel opens her present, I’m out of here. Dad was smart for taking Ty to the movies.”
She gave him a gentle swat on the chest. “Oh, you. Every new mother deserves a baby shower. And you know it.”
Except, because of him, Bethany didn’t get one. From what she told him, she missed out on a lot of the expectant-mother joy. Ma and Melissa made it up to them by throwing a family shower that included stuff for Ty, but it wasn’t the same.
Ma stood on tiptoe and looked over his shoulder. Bringing her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Did you bring it?”
“I told you I would.”
“You’re such a good boy.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and turned around. “She’s almost done wi
th the other gifts and then we’ll bring in yours.”
About ten minutes later, the wrapped gifts at Mel’s feet were replaced with outfits, baby blankets and all the other stuff babies required.
His mother clapped her hands. “We have one more gift.” She turned and nodded to Stephen.
Stephen fought back an eye roll and grabbed the large box. He lifted it over his head and squeezed between chairs to make his way to his sister. “A little something Ty and I put together for you.”
Melissa eased her way out of the chair and kneeled in front of the box. “A little something in a pretty big box.” She ripped off the paper, pulled back the strip of packing tape and threw open the flaps.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Just do it.”
Melissa did what she was told for once and covered her eyes. Stephen lifted the cradle from the box, pushing the box toward the fireplace with his foot. He set the cradle on the floor in front of her.
“Okay. Open.”
She opened her eyes. For a second she didn’t do anything but blink rapidly. Slowly she stretched out a finger and traced the curve of the wood, almost as if she were afraid to touch it. She covered her mouth and then slid her hand down to cover her heart. Her gaze lifted and stared at him with blue eyes that mirrored his own. “You made this? For me?” Her voice squeaked like one of those baby toys she opened a few minutes ago.
“Well, you’re a little big, don’t you think?”
She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Then she sniffed. Was she crying?
Did she hate it? Or just being an emotional, hormonal female?
He prayed it was the latter—all those hours picking out the perfect piece of wood, cutting out the pattern, sanding, polishing.
Placing his hands on his thighs, he rolled back on the balls of his feet and stood. Heat slithered up his neck and crept across his cheeks. Nothing like having an audience of women to watch his humiliation.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Listen, Mel, if you don’t like it, you can pick out a different one and I’ll buy it for you.”
She looked up with puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. “Not like it? Are you kidding me? Stephen, it’s beautiful. It’s the most incredible gift I’ve ever received. I love it.” Tears spilled down her face again.
Stephen shook his head. “You women should come with an instruction manual.”
“Those were happy tears, you idiot.” She pushed herself awkwardly to a standing position and wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered into his ear. “I’ll treasure it always. I love you.”
Stephen’s nose prickled. He swallowed a lump the size of those bobbing pastel balloons and squeezed his eyes shut. No need to add to the ultimate humiliation by bawling like a baby. He returned the hug and kissed the top of her head. “Love you, too.” Over the top of her head, he glanced at Lindsey.
Her chair was empty.
Chapter Nine
Home from the hospital for less than two weeks and Mom was already disobeying doctor’s orders. Lindsey—dog-tired from waking up at 4:00 a.m. for the past week and driving two hours one way to the inn to fix breakfast for the guests—fumed as she raced up the steps to the Shelby Lake Community Church. The stiletto heels of her new black ankle boots clicked against the concrete.
When she’d called this morning to check on Mom and didn’t receive an answer, she’d panicked. What if Mom, being stubborn, had tried to get out of bed without help? What if she had fallen in the bathroom? What if she was in pain and couldn’t reach her medicine?
Unable to stand it any longer, Lindsey hopped in her car and broke speed limits, making the return trip in ninety minutes. She burst into the house, calling for Mom and didn’t receive an answer. About to call the hospital—thinking maybe someone else found Mom and called 911—Lindsey found a note propped up against the pitcher of sunflowers in the middle of the kitchen table. Would a phone call have been too much of an effort?
She had read it, crumbled it into a tight ball and bounced it off the window overlooking the backyard. She hoped her mother enjoyed the time she spent with Max because Lindsey was about to rip him from limb to limb. How could he allow Mom to talk him into taking her to church? What was the man thinking?
Now on the church steps, she reached for the door handle, but snapped her hand back. She couldn’t charge in there like an estrogen-fueled rhino. Maybe she could wait in the parking lot until the service ended, but what would she do for an hour? Or longer if Mom gabbed with her friends.
She plopped down on the steps and drew her burgundy cardigan tighter around her middle. She dropped her head to her knees. The cold concrete seeped through her black wool trousers, sending a shiver through her body.
“Lindsey? Are you okay?”
She jerked her head up.
Stephen stood a few steps below her. A frown sliced a V between his eyebrows.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lindsey exhaled loudly. “No offense, Stephen, but I’m contemplating a murder, and you’re the last person I should be talking to right now.”
“Contemplating a murder on the steps of a church. Interesting. Not the wisest thing to tell a cop. I could be made an accessory. Care to tell me who you’re thinking of killing?” His breath drifted around his face like a vapor as he sat next to her.
“My mother, for one. And her half-witted boyfriend.”
“So we’re talking a double homicide here.”
“Apparently so.”
“What brought on this sudden violent streak?”
Lindsey explained about the note. “Mom needs around-the-clock care until she can move on her own. Grandma spent the night, but had to teach Sunday school, so Max agreed to stay with Mom until I could come back at lunch. I didn’t expect him to give in to something so crazy.”
“Why is it crazy that she wants to be in church?”
“Normally I wouldn’t freak out about it, but she had surgery less than two week ago.”
“She’s already in there. You can’t exactly drag her home like a naughty kid. She’s a grown woman, Linds.” He pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go inside.
She stared at his hand but didn’t take it. She wasn’t trying to be a pain. Really, she wasn’t.
Having attended since birth until her father’s death, she wasn’t a stranger to this church. As soon as she opened doors, she’d be forced to remember—the scents of the funeral flowers, Granddad singing “Precious Memories,” hearing Mom’s sobs as the pallbearers carried out the casket, feeling a huge piece of heart being ripped out of her chest and going with it.
But it wasn’t just her dad’s funeral. From the moment she and Stephen had announced their engagement, she and Mom had pored over bridal magazines and wedding organizers. She was supposed to have been married in this church as her parents and grandparents had been.
Stephen continued holding out his hand, waiting. “You can’t run from every place that reminds you of your dad, Linds. Is that what he would have wanted? For you to hide from the memories?”
Knowing he was right, she allowed Stephen to pull her up, but released his hand as soon as he opened the door for her.
Melodious sounds of the organ greeted them as they entered the church foyer. Stephen paused to hang up his leather jacket. Lindsey walked through the vestibule to the sanctuary and then hesitated in the doorway. Nearly every pew was filled.
Sunlight shining through the stained-glass windows sent prisms of color dancing across the ruby-colored carpet. The pulpit centered at the front of the three sections of wooden pews. A picture of Jesus knocking on a door hung behind the pulpit. Off to the side, a board listed the attendance. A piano and an organ flanked either side of the pulpit.
Scattered memories of youth shut-ins, church potlucks and Advent celebrations—memories of happier times.
“Goodness gracious, are my feeble eyes deceiving me or is that young
Lindsey Porter standing over there?” a male voice behind her asked.
Lindsey turned to see an elderly man hunched over his cane hobble toward her. Dressed in a dove-gray suit and carrying a sheaf of church bulletins in his left hand, he took slow steps until he crossed the distance to where Lindsey stood.
“Good morning, Mr. Murphy. It’s so good to see a familiar face.” Lindsey hugged him.
“How are you, my dear?”
“Late this morning.” Lindsey smiled. Catching sight of the very familiar wheelchair positioned next to the coatrack, she leaned over and whispered, “Does my mother still sit in the same spot?”
Mr. Murphy nodded and pointed a shaky finger, gnarled as a tree limb, to the middle of the sanctuary. “Right there, third pew from the front. Same place for as long as I can remember.”
“Thank you.”
She hurried up the aisle, but stopped behind her mother’s pew. Seeing Mom sitting in the familiar spot wasn’t surprising, but Max sitting next to her—in her father’s spot—with his arm wrapped around Mom’s shoulders—well, that hit her square in the heart.
The organ stopped playing.
Someone coughed. She heard the rustle of a bulletin. Whispers.
Her skin prickled. She needed to move. Either sit with Mom or find an empty seat. She couldn’t stand in the aisle. Yet, her feet stuck to the carpet like Velcro as she stared at the back of Max’s head.
A hand curved around her elbow and guided her gently across the aisle. An arm brushed hers. Without looking, she knew Stephen had rescued her. Again.
He handed her a hymnal. Her fingers gripped the open songbook. The notes and words swam on the page.
Beside her, Stephen sang the refrain to “’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” His deep bass reminded her so much of her dad’s. She used to love standing between her parents on Sunday mornings, listening to Dad’s deep voice harmonizing with Mom’s alto.
She glanced at the back of her mother’s head as she sat to sing. Max’s hand rested on Mom’s shoulder.
Lindsey feared if she moved, she’d fall to pieces. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear managed to slide down her face and blot the page.