A Notion of Love

by Abbie Williams

  “I hope so,” I whispered back. Dodge had taken a seat on the orange vinyl armchair at a right angle to the bed and had already dozed off as well, his chin tipped towards his chest.

  “So Mom’s having a baby?” Clint asked next, bracing his chin on the metal railing of the bed. “Just like Camille.”

  “You’ll finally be a big brother,” I told my nephew softly. The dimness of the room seemed to inspire confidences. I added, “You’ll be such a good one. You know, your dad always wanted a big family, since he didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “I wish I had more memories of my dad,” Clint said. “I’ve seen all the pictures, and Grandma talks about him, Granny Elaine too, but I don’t remember anything about him really.”

  I reached and feathered Clinty’s hair, saying, “Well, he looked just like you. Except his eyes were light brown, not blue. He was always smiling and teasing your mom, and never seemed to get angry. Just like you, too.”

  Clint leaned against my side like he used to when he was small. My heart swelled with love for my nephew. I went on, “He loved winter. It was his favorite season. Your grandpa Tom and your dad were carpenters and built all sorts of things, including your crib, the one that Camille is going to use for her baby next spring.”

  “I wish I could build stuff,” Clint mused. “I don’t know how to do any of that stuff.”

  “But you can change oil better than anyone I know,” I said, teasing him a little.

  “Dodge taught me that,” Clint said. “And Justin’s teaching me to drive a five-speed. It’s kick ass. And he’s teaching me to drive the motorboat.”

  “Justin’s a good guy,” I affirmed, cupping the back of Clint’s head and patting him.

  “He makes Mom really happy.”

  “He sure does.”

  “After they get married, do you think it would be weird if I called him ‘Dad’?”

  “You know what, Clinty? I think that would make him the happiest guy in the world.”

  At that very moment Jilly’s fingers flickered inward. For a second I thought I might just be seeing things, but then her hand made a loose fist. My heart thumped hard and I leaned closer to her face, my voice insistent as I said, “Jilly! Can you hear me?”

  I touched her face and her eyelids fluttered. Clint jumped to his feet and said, “Mom!”

  From across the room Justin fell off the cot. His voice was full of fear as he asked, “What’s going on?”

  And Jilly’s blue eyes opened.

  “Jilly!” I rejoiced, but then gasped, “No!” as Clint moved as though to throw himself onto her for a hug.

  Justin pretty much shoved us out of the way to get to the bedside, but I understood, crowding back against him as Jilly blinked and then blinked again. Tears poured over my face at the sight.

  “Jillian,” Justin breathed, touching her face, tears streaming over his too. “Oh, Jillian. I love you, sweetheart. You’re going to be all right, do you hear me?”

  Clint was sobbing, I was sobbing, it was a regular tear-fest. But relief swamped through us like rain over cracked earth.

  “Jillian, oh my God, we’ve been so scared,” Justin was saying, his words gushing out, his voice hoarse. “Sweetheart, we love you so much. Oh, God.”

  She tried to say something but we couldn’t understand with the tube in her throat. She closed her eyes and shook her head gently on the pillow. Justin curved his hand around hers and asked softly, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

  Jilly implored us with her eyes, seeking mine. I leaned in and whispered, “What is it, honey?”

  She managed to utter a whisper, which I understood. I straightened back up and explained, “She said, ‘she’s ok.’” Though I was not by any means near as gifted as my sister in the art of mind-reading, I knew in my heart exactly what she meant, and I said, “The baby, she means.” Jilly’s eyes held mine and she nodded incrementally, in satisfaction.

  “She?” Justin whispered reverently, stroking Jillian’s face, and her eyes caressed him as she nodded again, smiling just a little around the plastic tube in her mouth. “Our baby is a little girl? Oh Jillian, oh my God.”

  Justin turned and bear-hugged Clint, rocking the boy side to side, and then all of us were bear-hugged by Dodge, who had woken up at our noise. He said, “For the love of God, someone call Shore Leave.”

  Part Three: Jillian

  Chapter Twenty

  June, 2006: Landon, MN

  Rae, from the moment she’d been born, was her daddy’s girl. She’d known his voice, as he’d spent hours talking to her inside me, his palms pressed on either side as my belly grew with each month. His expression, as the doctor placed her in his arms just moments after birth. Tears sparked in my eyes even now, just remembering. She’d been fussing and he’d kissed her forehead and murmured, “Hi sweet girl, my sweet baby girl,” and almost instantly she had quieted and gazed up at her daddy. Words could not describe what they were to each other.

  We named her Louisa Rae, but from the first moment we’d called her by her middle name; it suited our wild girl. She had just turned two last April and was a little stick of dynamite. She had dimples in her round cheeks, my blond hair and Justin’s beautiful pecan-brown eyes. And both of our attitudes. Clinty was practically a slave to her, and Justin was a total goner. At times my heart ached with happiness.

  Rae and Millie Jo, Camille’s daughter, were no more than a month apart, and best friends. At least, when they weren’t bossing the shit out of one another. And they absolutely lorded over little Matty, Jo and Blythe’s son. Matty was so adorable that anyone who saw him instantly felt it necessary to cover him in kisses. He was nearly eighteen months, and had Blythe’s smoky blue eyes and Jo’s golden hair. And he lisped. Besides that, Blythe scarcely ever put him down; Jo teased him that Matty was like his personal teddy bear. No child at Shore Leave lacked for cuddling, but we practically fought over snuggling Matty.

  By September, Justin and I would have another baby. A boy this time, and Justin was beside himself with excitement. He, Clint and Rae all spent plenty of time talking to him, patting and kissing my belly; Rae came up with a new name for the baby every day, names that sounded more suitable for pets than little brothers. This morning’s had been Scampy. Clint joked that we’d have to tack ‘Shrimp’ at the beginning.

  I was sitting on the porch, relaxing after a day of mostly relaxing. For one thing, Justin was insistent that I take it easy; my morning sickness had finally dissipated, but just last week. It was so lovely to feel hungry again; Jo had driven into town to buy the fixings for bacon cheeseburgers, at my request. Demand, really. It was Monday, so Shore Leave was closed, and I was relieved at the relative quiet.

  Bly came from inside the café, Matty on his arm. Matty was fussing, one chubby finger hooked in his mouth, and I immediately reached out my arms, saying, “Come here to Aunt Jilly, honey-bunny.”

  Blythe deposited his son in my arms, shaking his head. His hair was long and wavy again, falling past his shoulders, the way Jo liked it; both she and I had a thing for being able to sink our hands into our men’s hair, obviously genetic. Bly had also grown a goatee; we all teased him that he just needed to learn to play acoustic guitar now to complete the look.

  He explained, “He wanted a banana, so I got him one and then he cried when I peeled it.”

  I smiled at my brother-in-law, who was still getting a hang of the contradictory natures of toddlers. I bounced my nephew on my knees. His name was Matthew Blythe, but that seemed so formal; no one called him anything but Matty or Matty-Bear. I kissed his cheeks and feathered his downy hair, and he gave me an engaging grin that showcased his front teeth.

  “You little sweetie,” I adored.

  Bly plunked down opposite me and regarded his boy with a fond smile. He said, “He just likes girls, is all. You want anything, Jilly?”

  “Maybe a lemonade,” I requested, and Bly hopped right back up to grab one for me; I was planning, with no
guilt, to continue taking total advantage of being pregnant and allowing others to wait on me. At that moment I heard my husband’s truck and my heart sped up in anticipation; I hadn’t seen him since early this morning.

  Justin climbed out of the pickup and strode across the parking lot, looking so damn good that I wanted to jump his bones right on a porch table. He was dirty and his hair was all tousled. I so loved his hair, his utter masculinity that never failed to make my belly go weightless with longing. He saw the look in my eyes as he climbed the porch steps and then leaned on his forearms over the back of the chair to my right, which accentuated his wide shoulders, giving me a slow smile.

  “Hello there, wife of mine,” he said. “Miss me a little today?”

  He knew well how incredibly horny I was in the second trimester. Talk about taking advantage; he’d been more than happy to help me channel all that desire and energy, during my first pregnancy and this one. I sent him a message with my eyes that made him shift position a little, his smile broadening to a grin.

  “Looks like I better get you home, and soon,” he said, his dark eyes smoldering into mine.

  Matty said then, “Hi, Unco Justin.”

  Justin refocused on his nephew and said, “Hi there, little guy. You taking care of your Aunt Jilly?”

  Matty nodded solemnly and I added, “Jo took the girls into town for groceries. We were thinking burgers tonight.”

  Blythe came banging out the screen door with a tall frosty lemonade for me. “Here, sis. Justin, you’re just in time to help unload the truck.”

  “No problem,” Justin responded, stepping close to me and curving one hand around my jaw, bending to kiss me for just a second, but deeply. Blythe cleared his throat with mock sternness and teased, “Come on, you two.”

  Justin straightened and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear; I’d let my own hair grow out again, and it fell to my shoulders these days. I smiled up at my husband before teasing Blythe, “So, that wasn’t you and Jo down on the dock the other night? I must have been imagining things.”

  Bly flushed, ducking his head in a smile.

  Justin said, “The dock…one of my favorite places on the face of the earth.”

  I felt my face heat this time.

  Bly said, “Ha! Jilly does blush.”

  My sister was pulling into the parking lot then, Camille in the passenger seat, the two little girls in the back, yelling and hooting out the window. Jo parked and Camille extracted the girls from their car seats, holding their hands to walk them across to the porch. Rae broke free, yelling, “Daddy!” and Justin hopped down the steps to catch her in a bear hug before tossing her up into the air as she shrieked. Millie Jo was tugging on him, begging to be thrown next, and Bly jumped down the steps and bounded over to the car to help his wife unload groceries. I spied him cup the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss, before slipping his hand down the side of her waist. At the same moment Matty began crying again, stretching out his chubby arms and wailing, “Mama!” as though Jo had been gone for weeks.

  Bly took all of the bags while Jo, her long hair in a French braid, hurried up to snag her little guy from my lap, covering his soft round cheeks in kisses.

  “Hiya, sweetie,” she said, swinging him onto her hip. “Hi, Jills.”

  “Did you get tortilla chips?” I pestered her. I had been craving those all day.

  “Aunt Jilly, can we go swimming?” Millie Jo asked me, leaning over my knees and regarding me with her solemn golden-green eyes. She was the spitting image of Camille, and just as serious in demeanor.

  “Maybe after supper. Where’re the big kids?” I asked the girls.

  Camille plopped into a chair near mine and said, “Out on the lake.”

  “Yeah, I got your chips,” Jo said, letting Matty slide to the porch and snagging her husband around the waist. “Wait up there, handsome. I need to grab something.”

  Blythe leaned down and whispered in her ear and she smacked his ass, laughing as she dug out a yellow bag, tossing it to me. Justin came up the steps, Rae clinging to his right arm as he held it straight out.

  “Lookit, Mama,” she said. “Isn’t Daddy strong?”

  “He sure is,” I said, sending my husband another telepathic message.

  Justin let Rae swing to the floor, where she took off after Millie Jo. Matty tried to chase them and got about as far as Jo’s knees before getting swept up. Justin winked at me, leaning on the rail, and then Blythe was coming back outside to snag my husband for chores. And at that moment, Camille’s boyfriend pulled into the parking lot; on my right, she broke into a huge grin at the sight of him. I was so happy for her…the past few years had been tough on my niece.

  But then, that was entirely another story.

  About The Author

  Abbie Williams has been addicted to love stories ever since first sneaking her mother’s copy of The Flame and the Flower; and since then, she’s been jotting down her own in a notebook. A school teacher who spends her days with her own true love, their three daughters, and a very busy schedule, she is most happy when she gets a few hours to indulge in visiting the characters in her stories. When she’s not writing, teaching or spending time with her family, you’ll find her either camping, making a grand mess in her kitchen at various cooking attempts, or listening to a good bluegrass banjo.

  Check out all of her Shore Leave Cafe Books: Forbidden; Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe & Second Chances.