St. Patrick’s Baby (SEAL Team: Holiday Heroes Book 4)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Swiping more tears with the backs of her hands, she shook her head. “The last thing I wanted was to burden you. Before I’d ever dreamed I was pregnant, you made your position clear and I understood. I couldn’t bear to possibly lose this baby and you.”

  “Do you honestly think so little of me to believe I’d leave you on your own?”

  She shrugged. “Do any of us know how we’ll handle news like this? You told me about your genetic testing and then I had a routine blood test come back abnormal. My doctor urged a flurry of new tests and having read far too many agonizing case studies online, all I could think was that I couldn’t make the decision. If I found out that—well, if I heard the worst—and my doctor urged me to terminate the pregnancy, I couldn’t have done it.”

  “I understand…” He took her hands, giving them a squeeze.

  “What your poor mom went through… Your whole family. I didn’t want you reliving that hell all over again.”

  “But you have to know I would never want you going through it alone. Why wouldn’t you want my help?”

  “Because…” Heart pounding, she bowed her head. “Because you made it clear that this was the last thing you wanted. I was the one craving my own basketball team—never you.”

  He arched his head back and sighed. “We can hash this out a hundred different ways, but the bottom line will always be that regardless of my feelings on becoming a father, I want to be here for you. As long as there’s breath in my body, I will always have your wellbeing as a top priority.”

  “Thank you, but I’m good.” She waved at her surroundings, the cozy log cabin her mother had decorated with her love of Blue Willow china. Not only did her vintage plate and serving dish collection decorate the walls and antique hutch, but there were overstuffed blue sofas and armchairs and blue and white toile curtains and a thick white rug that felt like a warm hug to her bare feet on chilly mornings. Everywhere she looked were framed family photos and reminders of happier times. Regardless of whether her baby lived or died, the world would keep spinning and should the worst occur, she’d need this place to ground her. To remind her that she somehow had to find the strength to go on. To live on.

  “What are you thinking?”

  How much I love you. Need you. “Nothing.”

  “Liar…”

  She flashed a fragile, teary smile. “Hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Thirsty?”

  “Don’t deflect.”

  “I’m not.” She pushed herself up from the sofa, awkwardly shuffling around him on her way to the bathroom. “I have to pee.”

  “Need help?”

  Really? Suddenly, irrationally annoyed, she cast him an over-the-shoulder glare. How many times during her pregnancy had she wished for him to be with her, yet now that he was here, she felt tongue-tied and awkward and big as a house.

  “You look beautiful…”

  “I don’t…” What did she do with his kind words? “My hair’s a mess and I haven’t worn makeup since—”

  In the timespan of a heartbeat, he’d left the sofa to pull her hard against him, only their baby prevented a solid connection. But in that moment, the heavens opened, giving her a glimpse of what it must feel like to be at the finish line of a normal pregnancy with a healthy baby. “To me,” he said, voice ragged with emotion, “you are the most beautiful woman in the world, carrying the most beautiful child in the world.”

  A wall of tears rose at the back of her throat and stung her eyes.

  “I love you. This pregnancy may have begun alone, but I’m here now for the duration and I promise—no matter what happens with our baby—we will never be without each other again.”

  His words weren’t just a balm, but medicine that flowed through her veins like sun-warmed honey.

  Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her with the passion of each month they’d been apart. Relief over no longer being by herself shimmered through her, flavoring their kiss with salty tears.

  With every part of her being, she wanted to believe his kind words, but he’d already shattered her heart once. Could she trust him not to do it again?

  Chapter Twelve

  HOLDING STEPHIE’S HAND while walking down a sun-dappled trail, part of Patrick felt as if he was living a dream. Another part realized the hard reality that as soon as Stephie delivered their baby, they could be trapped in a nightmare.

  Until then, he’d cherish this time when reality had been held at bay by time’s thin veil. Hard to believe it was already September. They were lucky Mother Nature was still playing nice.

  “Remind me how you know these people again?” he asked.

  “When my parents and grandparents were alive, we spent every holiday here. There weren’t that many kids, so Tally, Jewel and I hung out a lot.”

  “Jewel’s your midwife?”

  Stephie nodded.

  “In light of what could happen with the baby, do you think a hospital birth would be a safer way to go?”

  “No.” She stopped on a bend on the conifer-lined trail. Fragrant pine needles had not only cushioned their footfalls, but her lone word.

  “But what if—”

  “You and I both know the grim reality. If the worst should happen, then at least our baby will have lived and died in a place of peace.”

  “I understand.” But he didn’t. He wasn’t just scared for their child, but her.

  Releasing his hand, she continued down the trail. “There used to be blackberry bushes all through here, but they attracted so many bears that Tally’s grandfather transplanted them to a fenced garden closer to the house.”

  “Didn’t that bring the bears closer?” He followed behind her.

  “Sometimes. But they were easily spooked by an airhorn or rifle fire.”

  If only he could so easily vanquish his fears.

  Around the next bend, the forest opened into a wildflower-strewn meadow that ringed a glassy pond. At the water’s far end sat a two-story house that combined such an assortment of building materials and styles that it must have been constructed over decades. Beyond the house stretched orchards and gardens and outbuildings. Around the largest barn, sunlight glinted off the windshields of a half-dozen parked cars.

  “Jewel says the strawberry scones are amazing. When I was a kid, the family only sold their fruits to locals, but now they’ve become a day-trip destination for folks living in Anchorage. I guess they have a few guest cabins down by the river for overnight guests. Tally married a local guy we all used to swoon over—Gustav.”

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “Maybe?” Her over-the-shoulder grin flip-flopped his heart. “But since he and Tally are happily married with their first baby on the way, I think my window of opportunity with him has long since passed.”

  “Sweet.” And the shared joke would have been far sweeter if he and Stephie had been an ordinary couple riding out the tail end of an ordinary pregnancy. But during their continued trek to the shop, Patrick fought the knot lurking at the back of his throat.

  Lord, their baby looked beautiful in her.

  She’d added curves in all the right places and when she again glanced over her shoulder to hurry him along, the full force of his love for her and the son or daughter he had yet to meet stole his next breath.

  “Have you had any odd cravings?” Suddenly he wanted to know everything she’d been through. He’d missed so much in the months they’d been apart.

  “Early on, I was pretty nauseous, but lately, I’m hungry all the time. Ice cream in any flavor is always great. Oh—and anything barbecued or spicy. The last time I had hot sauce…”—she hugged their baby—“…this little guy or gal kicked up a storm.”

  Was that a good sign? The kicking?

  He wanted to ask if she’d researched the point, but why spoil the moment—at least for her. For him, his nerves felt pulled like a trip wire attached to explosives ready to blow.

  “It’s good you’re feeling better,” he said. “Sorr
y I wasn’t here for you when you were sick.”

  “I didn’t share that information to make you feel guilty. If anyone’s to blame for you not being here, it’s me.”

  True… But still…

  “I read an account online—about a woman whose baby was early-on diagnosed with the worst. She refused to believe it and carried the child full-term. Her baby kicked and rolled and she bonded with him and believed him healthy. Sometimes I worry I’m just fooling myself. But other times?” She pressed her hands to their child. “I know he or she is just fine. Growing safe inside me, waiting for their grand entrance to this great big beautiful world…” Stopping on the trail, she turned to him.

  Silent, silvery tears trailed down her cheeks.

  On autopilot, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her beneath the warm, healing early autumn sun.

  “B-because I never went back to my doctor after that one abnormal test, there’s room in my heart for all the best outcomes to our story.”

  He continued holding her through more tears.

  “I believe with every breath in my body that our baby is one hundred percent okay.”

  “Then why are you crying?” That knot in his own throat had returned with a level of pain no ibuprofen or even OxyContin could soothe.

  “B-because no matter how much I believe, that seed of doubt never fully goes away. I love this baby so much. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl, but I love it so much…”

  “I know…” He held her, and would hold her, for as long as it took her tears and fears to subside. Patrick loved her and their baby, but never could he understand the depth of what Stephie must be going through. His father hadn’t understood why his mother had fallen apart after his little brother passed, but by God, should the worst happen with his child, he would stand by her as long as it took for her to heal from the pain.

  Pain his carelessness had ultimately caused.

  Hell, he’d worn two condoms.

  He should have gotten the vasectomy sooner.

  He’d give anything to spare her this pain, but he didn’t hold that power. Only God could save them and their child.

  Please! Patrick’s breaking heart raged. Please let our baby be okay.

  When her tears subsided, Stephie stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his. It didn’t matter that their kiss was again salty. All that really mattered is that he was here with her under the warm sun and for the moment all was well.

  They walked hand-in-hand to her friends’ shop and once there, surrounded by happy couples and families and the rich scents of pumpkins and cider and fresh-picked apples and pastries, she lost her herself in the festive spirit. In addition to fruits and baked goods, there were antiques and handcrafted collectables and T-shirts, vintage linens and polished antique silver.

  Parents and children sat at picnic tables covered in red gingham cloths. Moms wiped cupcake frosting from their kids’ cheeks and chins and noses.

  More kids ran shrieking and laughing around an old river tugboat that had been converted to a playhouse docked in a pool of sand.

  “Stephanie?” A petite firecracker of a blonde almost as pregnant as her waddled from a pumpkin display to enfold her in a hug. “It’s so good to see you. Jewel told me you were in town and expecting.” She stood back to appraise Patrick. “What she didn’t tell me was about your hot baby daddy.” Winking, she gave him a quick fierce hug, as well. “I’m Tally, and I’m assuming you’re Patrick?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He reddened.

  “Ma’am?” She fanned herself. “Jewel failed to mention you’re not only cute but a charmer.”

  For the first time in she couldn’t remember when, Stephie laughed. “Please don’t make his head any bigger.”

  Now Tally was laughing. “Yes, ma’am. And by the way, you two are staying for supper—”

  Stephie opened her mouth to protest, but Tally put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

  “Nope. No arguments. Jewel also told me you’ve turned into a hermit, but Gustav and Mom and Dad and even my grandparents would all love to see you.”

  “I’d love seeing them.” Stephie’s heart swelled and tightened upon the realization of just how much she’d missed her family. Sharing someone else’s would be nice.

  “Good.” She twined her arm with Stephie’s. “Now, tell me everything. When are you due? Are you and Patrick getting hitched? Do you constantly feel like a bowling ball is parked on your bladder?”

  Laughing again, Stephie said, “Late November. You’d have to ask him, and yes—only my guy or gal feels more like a VW Bug.”

  “You don’t know if you’re having a boy or girl?” Tally’s gaze widened. “I admire your willpower. Gustav and I couldn’t wait—we found out we’re having a boy as soon as our ultrasound allowed. You do at least have ultrasound pics, though, right?”

  “Um…” What could she say? Tally assumed Stephie and Patrick’s baby was as healthy as hers. But there was a good chance he or she wasn’t. The only thing an ultrasound photo would have accomplished was possibly breaking her heart. On the flip side, it could have also shown their baby was perfect with all ten fingers and toes, but in order to take that risk, she’d have faced an unthinkable reality. It was better to not know. To not have spent months pre-mourning. “We did, but I accidentally left them all back in Anchorage.”

  Tally smiled and nodded. Her lips opened to form a new question, but all six foot three of Gustav stepped up, wrapping Stephie in a bear hug before introducing himself to Patrick and shaking his hand. Not many men made her SEAL seem small in stature, but Gustav was a human mountain of Nordic descent. His blond hair and icy blue eyes had always made him a favorite for local ladies—what few there were. His softhearted demeanor and penchant for rescuing any animal from a fallen baby bird to a lost puppy didn’t hurt his sex appeal. Again, she found herself smiling—this time, for her lucky friend.

  Good for you, sweet Tally. You made a great catch.

  “Actually,” Gustav said to Patrick, “I’m pretty sure you and I have met. For our father’s sixtieth birthday, my two older brothers and myself took him fishing through the backcountry charter outfit you work for. I recall you having just returned from a month-long trek and reeking of campfire smoke and desperate for a cheeseburger.”

  “That was quite a trip.” Patrick laughed. “Usually we pack-in our food supply, but that particular group wanted to go old-school and live off the land. Most times, it’s not a problem, but given our party of eight, it turned out to be quite a challenge.”

  “I’ll bet…” Gustav punctuated his thought with a whistle. “Come. I’ll show you my fly collection. All winter I make them by the fire.” He turned to Stephie. “I promise to bring him back soon.”

  “No worries,” she said. “As long as he’s back in time to carry me home from Tally’s mom’s dinner. Does she still cook as much food?”

  “More—now that I’m expecting.” Tally laughed. “Pretty sure she and Gustav’s mom think I’m having a lumberjack.”

  While the men traipsed off to one of Gustav’s many man-sheds, Stephie followed Tally into the rambling house where she’d spent summer afternoons assembling puzzles or playing board games. The place still smelled the same—of fresh-baked muffins and vanilla and lemon furniture oil. She breathed deeply, appreciating the mental trip to a simpler time.

  “Is that my little Stephie?” Tally’s mother, Helen, dashed from the kitchen for a hug. “Tally told me you were also expecting. When are you due?”

  “Late November.”

  “Ah…” Helen’s once dark hair now held streaks of gray and her smile lines may have been a little more deeply etched, but her eyes and smile were as bright as ever. “Then you must stay for dinner and allow me to fatten you up. Boy or girl?”

  “Momma,” Tally said, “can you believe she wants her baby’s gender to be a surprise? I would die from anticipation.”

  Tears stung Stephie’s eyes—not from the uncertainty of her pr
egnancy’s outcome, but with gratitude for this reunion with old, dearly loved friends. She’d been away from them for far too long and for the first time in a long time felt her mother’s and father’s spirits with her.

  “I’m dying to know,” Tally’s mother said with her easy smile, “and it’s not even my baby.” Her smile faded. “Stephie, hon, I’m sorry. That was insensitive. Your mom and dad were good friends. How are you coping—especially now that you’re starting a family of your own?”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  All the positive self-talk in the world couldn’t hold Stephie’s tears at bay.

  “Aw…” Tally and her mom converged on Stephie in a group hug.

  “S-sorry. The baby has me an emotional mess.”

  “M-me, too.” Now, Tally was also crying, but laughing. “Hallmark commercials are the worst.”

  “I know,” Stephie said.

  Even Tally’s mom chimed in. “Those things had me sobbing back when I carried you and your sisters.”

  “I haven’t even thought to ask, how are Violet and Ginger?”

  “Wonderful,” Tally said.

  “But too far away,” her mom added. “They’re traveling nurses currently working in Budapest.”

  “That is far away.” But not as far as my parents…

  “They’ll be home in time for the baby,” Tally took a sugar cookie from a plate in the center of the roomy kitchen’s island.

  “Sounds like a good time.” Stephie took a cookie for herself when Tally pushed the plate her direction.

  “The best.” She hugged her baby bump. Beaming, she added, “Sometimes I get so excited and antsy to finally meet this little guy that I can hardly stand it. Do you feel the same?”

  No. Because if I kept my baby inside forever, I can pretend he or she is healthy forever.

  Stephie forced herself to nod.

  The guys came in, followed by Tally’s father, George.

  Stephie joined Tally in helping her mom assemble a pot roast meal that for most families would be holiday fare, but for her was a typical Saturday night. Gustav had invited his parents and brothers and their wives and children, and seated beside the man she loved amongst so many people she also loved, Stephie couldn’t help but be swept up in the joy that had settled over the house like a cozy blanket.