by Linda Warren
“Jack’s right. You have to stop seeing yourself as this helpless teenager backed against a wall by your big bossy family,” came the response.
“If I refuse, it’ll be a nonstop battle.”
“You’re an adult and you’re having a baby—just stand up to them,” Zora reproved. “Besides, you’ll have Jack on your side. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? If Andrew were a tenth the man that Jack is, I’d be in heaven.”
Tears sparkled against Zora’s cheeks. She’d spoken from the heart. Most people would agree with her, too, including Jack.
But Zora and Jack had missed the point. And so have I.
With that realization, Anya suddenly knew what she had to do.
Chapter Seventeen
Having once attended a medical conference in Denver, Jack wasn’t daunted by its large airport, and he easily navigated the hour-long drive to Anya’s hometown using the computer system in their rental car. But as they left the main route and bumped along a narrow road on the final leg of their journey, he was keenly aware that they were traveling not only into a different landscape but also into the past. Her past.
For him, this high grassland with its mountainous backdrop brought no memories, merely a faint headache due to the altitude, over a mile above sea level. He turned on the car’s heater against the cold, crisp late afternoon air—another change from Southern California. Having been warned that April might bring almost anything, he was grateful that the forecast contained no snowstorms.
What did all this signify to Anya? It was impossible to discern from her stone-wall expression.
A week ago, she’d informed him of her decision. “I need to find out exactly what I want from my life,” Anya had told him. “Do I want my family involved? Do I want to be a mother? I love you, but people who love each other can’t always live together. What I realized is that the person I most need to confront is myself.”
She’d sent a message to her sister to say they’d be arriving today, Saturday. Since then, Anya hadn’t mentioned her family.
Although Jack found her announcement unsettling, he knew it was important that she face her issues and reach a conclusion. Once she resolved this, there should be no more question of her disappearing when things got tough.
By tomorrow night, he’d have his answer. He hoped it would be one that made them both happy.
“You’re giving her too much power,” Rod had argued when he heard about their bargain.
Jack had disagreed. “I’m keeping our daughter, regardless of whether Anya chooses to stay in the picture. But I love her, and we can’t build a future unless she’s ready to commit whole-heartedly. Don’t forget that it was me who insisted on this trip.”
“You may regret it,” his uncle had muttered over their take-out fried chicken dinner. Since Jack had finished his cooking stint, he’d indulged in fast food most evenings. But while he enjoyed the freedom from a rigid schedule, he missed the give-and-take around the dinner table. Mostly, he missed Anya.
“She’s taking the bull by the horns,” he’d told Rod. “Considering her usual operating method, this is an improvement.”
“Remains to be seen,” Rod had said, but he’d kept his peace after that.
Anya’s hometown, when they reached it, had an Old West design, including the weathered wooden facade of the tack and feed store Anya pointed out, which her parents owned. “If you want any cowboy boots or a hat, you can buy that there,” she said.
“I wonder how Rod would look in a Stetson.”
“Weird.”
“In other words, his normal self,” Jack joked.
“He should stick with fedoras,” she mused. “They’ve grown on me.”
Past the commercial district, the car rolled onto a road bordered by homes set far back on lots large enough to accommodate horse corrals. Following Anya’s directions, Jack turned left at the next intersection.
He felt a quiver of unease. They’d brought sleeping bags, since the only motel in the area was fully booked. Anya had explained that guests would camp out where they could, mostly in her parents’ and grandmother’s houses. It was the “mostly” that bothered him. Sleeping in a chicken coop or barn wasn’t his idea of fun.
It’s only for one night, so no complaints. He’d hate to come across as a spoiled city boy.
Another turn, and he spotted the address on the mailbox. A sprawling ranch house was half-hidden behind a cluster of RVs parked along a wide driveway. “Looks like most of the gang’s here already.”
Anya gripped the armrest. “They’re probably out back, barbecuing.”
Rolling down a window, he inhaled the delicious scent of grilling. “Hope there’s enough for us.”
“I should have brought a dish. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” Anxiety laced her words.
“How exactly would you have carried a casserole through airport security?” He piloted the compact car between the larger vehicles. “Surely they don’t expect that.”
“I have no idea what they expect,” Anya admitted. “I haven’t been reading their texts or any other messages.”
Jack had believed the point of this exercise was to break her habit of avoidance. She obviously saw that in relative terms. Or rather, in terms that excluded her relatives. “I’ll bet they loved that.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
He parked close to the house on a patch of gravel. “You did mention you were bringing me, right?”
“I said me and a guest.”
“That’s it?” Jack groaned aloud. “Anya!”
She cupped her hand over his on the car seat. “I’m sorry. I’m already stressing out. If I’d had to argue with Ruth ten times a day, I’d be a wreck.”
He had to admit, he understood the logic of her approach. Nevertheless, “This is a good way to drive other people crazy.”
“I won’t do that to you.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “I promise, Jack. The difference is that you listen to me, and they don’t.”
“Glad to hear there’s a difference.”
She loosened her grip. “Might as well get this over with. Leave the suitcases.”
“You think we might be heading back to Denver tonight?”
“It’s a possibility,” she told him, and got out of the car.
* * *
APPREHENSION FILLED ANYA. For heaven’s sake, this was only her family, yet the arguments from last Christmas rang in her memory. She was letting everyone down, her father had said. She ought to grow up and stop playing truant, Ruth had snapped. Even Grandma hadn’t showed her usual enthusiasm for Anya’s nursing career.
“I counted on you to be around in my old age,” she’d said, and turned to hug one of her great grandchildren before Anya could reply.
Her younger sisters had been so busy texting their friends and sharing inside jokes about college that Anya hadn’t really had a conversation with any of them. In retrospect, she supposed they’d been deliberately ducking the quarrels. Following my example.
She squared her shoulders and rang the bell. That felt odd, since she’d grown up in this house, but in many respects, she was a stranger.
As was the little girl who opened the door. About four, she had an open, freckled face. “Hi,” she announced. “Which one are you?”
Behind her trailed other youngsters, including a familiar two-year-old with dark blond hair. “Kiki,” Anya said. “Remember me?”
“Aunt Anya!” The tot raced into Anya’s arms as she and Jack entered the hall.
“I’m Belle,” said the girl who’d opened the door, and Anya finally placed her as the daughter of her older brother Benjie. Or possibly Bart. Since they were identical twins who’d each had two children, it was hard to keep track of which was which.
The floor creaked beneath an onrush of feet, and Anya looked up to see a swarm of people. Ruth stood out, appearing reserved but relieved, too. The triplets were giggling—honestly, at twenty-one, the girls should be past that—and t
here were Bart and Benjie and a host of cousins and husbands and wives. They parted before Anya’s father, his leathered face a study in mixed emotions.
“I was afraid we’d chased you away for good,” he said, then halted as he took in her maternity top. “What’s this? Or perhaps I should say, who’s this?” His gaze moved to the man at her side.
“Dad, this is Jack Ryder.” Anya let the circumstances speak for themselves.
Her father thrust out his hand. “Hello. I’m Raymond Meeks, Anya’s dad.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” Jack shook his hand firmly.
In the introductions that followed, Anya sensed the unasked questions—about her pregnancy, her relationship to Jack, her decision to attend. She let them go unanswered, for now. Mostly, she appreciated the outpouring of welcome.
“Everybody’s been on my case since they found out I didn’t get your consent about the child care,” Ruth admitted as they made their way through the house to the large rear deck, where heat lamps had been turned on to take the edge off the chill. “I guess it was a heavy load to dump on one person.”
“How did you decide to handle it?” Anya ventured, her defenses ready to spring up if Ruth took that as an opening.
“We hired a couple of teenagers,” her sister said. “They’re playing games in the den.” Fixing her gaze on Kiki, she commanded, “Off you go.”
After a last dazzling smile at her aunt Anya, the toddler obeyed. “What a doll.” Although she’d have liked to cuddle her niece longer, Anya was pleased about the sitters. She also sympathized with her sister’s advanced state of pregnancy. “Organizing all this must have been hard for you, especially now. I forgot—when are you due?”
“Next month,” Ruth said. “And you?”
“September.”
“Are you and Jack...”
Anya didn’t hear the rest of the question, because she’d just spotted her mother sitting by the food-laden table. Sitting in a regular chair, from which Molly arose with only a trace of stiffness. “Mom! When did this happen?”
Her mother beamed. “Oh, I still use the wheelchair sometimes, but my new medication is working wonders. Goodness, look at you!”
Another round of hugs followed. Anya was full of questions, which Molly answered gladly. The doctor had started her on a new type of drug called biologics, combined with an older drug. The results had exceeded expectations.
Since Jack was handling the large crowd smoothly, shaking hands and introducing himself, Anya turned her attention to the older woman waiting quietly at the side of the deck. Grandma Rachel’s stern expression reawakened Anya’s doubts.
You came here to face up to your family. Don’t chicken out.
She stooped to embrace her grandmother. “Happy birthday.”
When they separated, tears sparkled on Grandma’s lashes. “I was afraid you’d stay in California.”
“I nearly did,” Anya admitted. “I posted my pictures in the family album, though.” In lieu of gifts, her grandmother had requested that everyone upload favorite pictures on a website for all to enjoy. One of the cousins had volunteered to incorporate them into a scrapbook later.
“We laid quite a guilt trip on you at Christmas.” With a nod at Jack, currently surrounded by Anya’s brothers and cousins, Grandma asked, “Who’s your young man?”
Anya took a seat beside her. “Jack.”
“That’s it? He only has a first name?”
“Dr. Jack Ryder,” she said.
“A doctor. That’s nice.” Grandma tapped Anya’s left hand. “No ring?”
“He asked,” she replied. “I’m deciding.”
Catching their glances, Jack approached. “This must be the birthday girl.” When he flashed his killer smile, Grandma beamed.
Anya introduced them, and they shook hands, Jack careful not to squeeze the old woman’s frail bones. “You’re quite the catch,” her grandmother said, to Anya’s embarrassment.
“So is your granddaughter,” he answered.
Grandma slanted an admiring gaze at him. “You’re a smart young man.”
“And a lucky one.”
Inside Anya, anxieties melted. While she didn’t entirely trust this sense of emotional safety around her relatives, it was lovely for however long it lasted.
Ruth’s husband, Bryce, called out that he’d grilled the last of the hamburgers, and everyone gathered for a blessing over the food. Once Anya’s dad finished giving thanks, they lined up to fill their plates. The children and their sitters went first, then retreated to the den. The adults filed into the dining room, where a series of tables covered with cloths extended into the living room.
Anya was wedged between Jack and her younger sister Sarah. She listened with interest as Jack chatted with Bryce about the feed store, where her brother-in-law was assistant manager and the heir apparent when their father retired in a few years. Then Anya turned to Sarah, eager to learn more about the girls’ upcoming graduation.
All three triplets were earning RN degrees at the University of Colorado. Until now, Anya had figured that was Grandma’s influence.
But Sarah said, “We went into nursing to be like you. It’s so exciting that you’re a scrub nurse. Do you and Jack operate together?”
“He operates. I assist.” In response to more questions, Anya filled in the blanks. “He earned his M.D. and did his residency in obstetrics at Vanderbilt.”
“How’d he end up in Safe Harbor?”
“It’s my hometown,” Jack said from her other side.
Anya couldn’t resist bragging a little. “He was selected for a surgical fellowship by the head of our fertility program, Dr. Owen Tartikoff.”
“Wow!” Sarah ruffled her short hair, a few shades lighter than Anya’s. Her coloring was darker than that of the other two triplets, who were identical. Sarah, born at the same time but conceived from a different egg, was their fraternal sister. “That’s impressive.”
“Some people think so,” Jack responded lightly. “But Anya keeps me humble.”
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Sarah said. “She’s my role model.”
Across the table, Ruth dropped her fork with a clatter. Oh, here it comes. Anya set down a forkful of potato salad.
Blithely, Sandi—another of the triplets—asked, “Why did you move so far away, Anya? There’s a world-class hospital in Denver.”
“So she could have fun, fun, fun in California.” Ruth’s statement dripped with resentment.
“Hon...” The endearment from Bryce carried a warning note. Bryce was a good man, although his long hours left her sister with much of the hard work raising their four—soon to be five—children, as well as tending their vegetable garden, chickens and dairy goat.
“I’d like to have fun, fun, fun in California,” Sarah said wistfully.
“Sounds good to me,” said the third triplet, Andi.
Since Ruth appeared about to ignite, Anya hurried to correct their impression. “That’s not why I left. I did it so I could be myself.”
From the head of the table, her father joined the conversation. “You could be yourself right here just fine.”
“Seriously?” After years of trying to be diplomatic, Anya had had enough. “I could hardly hear myself think. Everyone had expectations of me. Sometimes they fit, like when Grandma encouraged me to become a nurse. Other times, they were simply slots for me to fill.”
“We all have obligations,” Ruth snapped. “You ran out on yours.”
Around them, the conversation dimmed. Under the table, Jack’s hand cradled hers. Having him on her side allowed her to catch her breath and weigh her response.
In the past, she’d have retreated into angry silence, or snapped that it wasn’t her fault Ruth had chosen to marry at nineteen, drop out of college and bear one child after another. Instead, she replied calmly, “I met my obligations and then some.”
“You have to be kidding!” Ruth flared.
Their mother spoke up the
n with more force than she’d mustered in years. “Anya spent her high school and college years looking after me and the triplets. They should have been my responsibility, but I could barely take care of myself. She worked incredibly hard.”
Ruth cleared her throat. “I don’t remember it that way.”
“You were married and out of the house by then, so you didn’t see it.”
“I was right here,” Anya’s father joined in. “It didn’t seem to me she had it so tough.”
Molly turned to her husband. “Ray, you were working from dawn to dusk at the store. So you may not have noticed that she took over the grocery shopping, the cleaning, even scheduling my doctor visits, all while attending college and commuting an hour each way.”
“The younger girls pitched in,” he said stubbornly.
“Yes, the triplets helped with meals, but they didn’t take over many of the other chores until after Anya left. We also hired a cleaning service and our two wonderful daughters-in-law volunteered to drive me to appointments. Anya used to do all of that herself.”
Anya blinked back tears. If she hadn’t been afraid of shaking the table and everyone’s dinners, she’d have run around to embrace her mom. “I knew that you needed me, Mom. But once the girls were old enough to handle things, I was ready to leave.”
Her father cleared his throat. “I guess I was a little hard on you.”
Anya wasn’t going to let him off so easily. “A little? All you noticed were my screwups.”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“You were always picking on her,” Benjie said. “Honestly, Dad, I even told you a few times to lay off.”
He had? No one had mentioned that to Anya.
“I’d forgotten that,” their father admitted.
“It was like Anya couldn’t do anything right,” Bart chimed in. “You were always comparing her to how Ruth used to do things.”
That was true, but she hadn’t been aware that her brothers had noticed it, too.
“Well, Ruth did a great job,” said their father, his forehead wrinkling.