A Walk Down the Aisle

by Holly Jacobs

  * * *

  SOPHIE CRIED WITHOUT making a sound as Colton read through the letters. She gazed out at Lake Erie and occasionally raised her hand to brush away a tear.

  Colton read snippets of the letters aloud.

  “‘...she doesn’t like the word no. I thought about it and realized, neither do I. Her not liking being told no is normal.

  “‘...she rode her bike into a parked car last month. She bit through her lip. The E.R. doc wanted to simply butterfly it, but I insisted on a plastic surgeon. I didn’t want to leave a scar on her face.’”

  Sophie glanced over and saw the letter he was reading. “That scar was how I knew Tori was my daughter. In the next year’s letter, Gloria said, ‘The plastic surgeon did a wonderful job. The scar is already so faint that hardly anyone notices it. The doctor said someday it will be so faint, you’ll only see it if you know where to look. Just to the right of the center of her lip.’ When Tori showed up, I noticed the blue hair, her tiny stature and then looked for that scar. It’s there, but so faint you probably never noticed.”

  Colton’s first thought was he hadn’t ever noticed Tori had a scar, but of course, she was generally scowling at him, so that would have distracted him from noticing anything.

  But his second thought was that Sophie had memorized each of the letters. He took the next one in the pile. And, sure enough, Sophie quoted it accurately.

  He continued reading through each year’s letter and looking at the pictures. Sophie commented on them occasionally.

  “She won the school’s spelling bee. She beat all those upperclassmen that were years older than her.”

  Sophie could tell which letter was which, even from a distance—she’d read them so many times. “Yellow. Gloria said everything Tori bought that year was yellow. Dom called her Big Bird, and rather than minding, Tori learned to imitate him. I’ve meant to ask her to do her Big Bird voice for me.”

  When he finished the letters, he put them back in the box and gently closed it.

  He fingered a pile of sealed letters, wrapped in a yellow ribbon.

  “Those are my letters to her. I wasn’t sure I’d ever meet her, but I wanted to tell her so many things.”

  “Every year?” he asked.

  “Every year,” she confirmed. “Since I moved to Valley Ridge, this spot has become my place. All those happy memories we built here. All the picnics and sunsets. They made it easier to read through the letters. I could imagine you here with me as I read them.”

  “I’d have been here in person if you’d have let me. If you had told me.” He didn’t mean for his anger to creep into his voice as he said the words, but it obviously had, because Sophie’s expression flashed from sad to angry instantly.

  “We’ve had this discussion, and I’m done with it.”

  “So, you can unilaterally decree what we’re allowed to talk about?”

  She sighed. “Not today, Colton. We’ve gone round and round about who did what, who disappointed who. I kept secrets. If you want to have a fight about that fact yet again, could we have it tomorrow? I’ll pencil you in. Today... I can’t shoulder anything more today.”

  There was such weariness in her voice his anger vanished.

  “If I ask, would you let me hold you? Just for a minute?” He wanted to hold her for all the years she had read those letters alone, memorizing each one. Only seeing her daughter in photographs. Only knowing her through someone else’s descriptions.

  “No, I don’t think that would be wise. This probably wasn’t, either, to be honest.” She leaned over and snatched the box away from him.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “I know. Me, too.”

  “Can we try again?” He wanted her to say yes. Yes, Colton, let’s put this all behind us and pick up where we left off. But he knew her answer before she said a word. He knew what it would be because he realized there was no going backward.

  “No. I could never know that you wanted me for me—warts and all. I don’t think you’ll ever know, either. You’re a man who believes in things like honor and honesty. And that’s all well and good. But I put more stock in love and acceptance. And in forgiveness. I don’t think we can bridge what happened so we have to find a new relationship.”

  Colton realized she wasn’t talking about him bridging the past and forgiving her—it was her being able to let go of the past and forgive him. She was saying that she wasn’t sure she could ever see him as anything other than the man who had let her down...just like everyone else in her life had.

  Well, this time, he wasn’t going to let her down. He wasn’t going to leave her alone to suffer through remembering how much she’d lost and all the pain she’d gone through. “Fine. I won’t hold you, but I am going to sit here with you for a while.”

  She looked as if she were going to protest, but then thought better of it and nodded.

  She sat stone-faced, in a very un-Sophie-like way as she stared resolutely at the lake.

  She could have been a statue for all the emotion she was showing.

  “Soph, you can cry if you want,” he offered. “Your shoulder’s still here.” He patted his shoulder, hoping she’d remember.

  “It’s not my shoulder anymore,” she whispered. “It’s yours. Your shoulder, and nothing of yours is mine.”

  “My baby is yours,” he pointed out.

  “It’s my baby. You’re...the sperm donor.”

  He felt her barb hit its target. “Listen, you can call me any number of names and I wouldn’t take offense, but not that. Not ever again. We made this baby out of love. It’s a miracle. Our miracle.”

  She shrugged and went back to staring at the lake, as if she’d find comfort or answers there. And all Colton could do was sit next to her, trying to wrap her in his support even if she wouldn’t let him wrap her in his arms.

  He’d truly made a mess of things.

  And frankly, he didn’t know how he was ever going to straighten them out.

  He watched her, holding her box of memories and struggling not to cry.

  He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. He’d hurt her.

  “I won’t give up on us.” He wasn’t sure who he was promising...Sophie or himself.

  Maybe both.

  * * *

  SOPHIE SLEPT LATE the next day. It was almost nine when she finally woke up. Much later than normal. Truth was, she’d had a hard time falling asleep last night. Thoughts of Colton kept plaguing her.

  Him offering his shoulder. Him whispering he wasn’t going to give up on them.

  The offers felt hollow. He was trying to be honorable and marry her because of the baby. Well, she was worth more than that.

  Thankfully, she had that doctor’s appointment at ten and Tori was still with her parents, so she had the morning to herself. When the alarm had gone off at seven, she had taken great delight in whacking it, then rolling over and going back to sleep.

  Now she crawled out of bed and actually headed toward the coffeemaker before she remembered she couldn’t have coffee. Oh, she could make decaf if she wanted, but really, if she couldn’t get the caffeine, why bother? Instead, she poured herself a glass of juice and took a sip when she realized she wasn’t the least big nauseous. She patted her stomach and said, “Good baby,” then felt foolish talking to her stomach.

  She took her juice and went to the front porch, where the paper waited for her.

  That was a good thing about sleeping a bit later...the paper was always waiting. If she got up at her normal time, it was hit-or-miss whether the paper would be there.

  She turned to go back inside when she heard, “Sophie, wait up.”

  She didn’t need to look back to see who it was. “Colton, what are you doing here?”

  She heard his feet thud up the steps. “I came to go to that doctor’s appointment with you.”

  “That’s not for more than an hour and it’s a five-minute drive if there’s traffic.” The doctor’s office was o
n Route 5, outside town.

  “Yeah, I’m early.” He held a brown bag aloft. “Mattie made these for you. They’re called Baby Bump Specials.”

  Sophie groaned. “She didn’t.”

  “She did. But don’t worry. She didn’t get more specific than that. They’re on her special board, along with a caveat—they’re not just for pregnant moms. Rumor has it that Hank thought they were quite the thing and ordered a couple dozen for the diner, too.”

  She thought about turning around and leaving him and his bag on her porch. But she couldn’t quite force herself to manage it, so she took the bag. “Thanks. I’ll see you at the doctor’s office.” She turned to go back inside, not feeling overly hopeful that her plan would work but trying anyway.

  “Really?” His tone was incredulous. “You’re going to kick me out onto the streets to wander around aimlessly until the appointment? It doesn’t make sense to drive back out to the farm, and then back into town again.” He heaved a put-upon sigh. “I guess I’ll sit here on your porch then. Out in the July heat.”

  “My porch has got to be cooler than riding around in your field,” she said, trying not to give in.

  “Maybe, but the kitchen would be cooler yet.”

  She sighed. “Come on in then.”

  “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”

  He followed her back to the kitchen. She could hear the muffin bag make a crinkly noise right behind her.

  “I’m going to eat my muffins, read my paper in peace and quiet, then shower.”

  “Care for company?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way. Once upon a time she’d have laughed at that expression, but those days were over.

  She shot him a look that made him laugh. He clarified, “For the paper, not the shower, though I’m open—”

  “What are you up to, Colton?” Yes, he was definitely up to something. His offer to hold her yesterday. His more suggestive offer to shower with her now.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Innocence practically dripped from his every pore.

  “Mr. Come-Shower-With-Me, muffin-bringer, here’s-my-shoulder guy. What’s your game? You don’t need to butter me up to see the baby or come to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “You said yesterday we could talk,” he said.

  Sophie shook her head. “I changed my mind.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, I’m pregnant and hormonal. I changed my mind. I don’t want to talk about us. I don’t want to talk about our past and I really don’t want to talk about my past. To be honest, I don’t want to talk to you at all, but if we have to talk, our topics of conversation are the baby...and the baby. You can read the paper with me if you want. You can make yourself some coffee even. I’m stuck with juice until February or so.”

  “Do you have a due date?”

  “That’s what I’ll get today. They can measure the baby when they do the ultrasound and get a fair idea. But given my cycles, I think February.”

  He nodded, made his own coffee and settled into the paper with her.

  Sophie had a déjà vu feeling. It wasn’t that long ago that they’d started a lot of days in companionable silence reading the paper, either here at her house or out at his farm. The quiet turning of pages was only interrupted by an occasional comment on an article.

  Today there were no comments, and the silence was anything but companionable. It was thick with things unsaid.

  Sophie ate the muffins, but only because Mattie made them. Not because Colton had brought them. She drank her juice. And she occasionally flipped the newspaper page, even though she hadn’t really read a word.

  “I’ll be down soon,” she said as she went upstairs to shower and get ready for the appointment.

  “I’ll drive,” Colton said as they got ready to leave.

  She nodded silently.

  The drive took minutes...minutes that felt like hours as she sat on the truck’s bench seat and found herself thankful for the armrest that separated them.

  They sat wordlessly in the waiting room, and when her name was called she said, “I’ll have them call you back for the ultrasound.” She waited for him to argue and tell her he wanted to be at the entire appointment. But he didn’t. He simply nodded and took a seat in the waiting room.

  Sophie felt relieved to have a few minutes to herself, even if she spent those minutes peeing in a cup, then wearing a paper gown.

  “Hi, Sophie,” Dr. Marshall said. “How’s everything?”

  “Fine. I’m a little more tired than normal, but I didn’t have any morning sickness today, and that was nice.”

  He nodded and made small talk as he did the exam, then pulled over the ultrasound machine.

  “Wait,” she said. “I promised to call Colton in for this part.”

  “In the waiting room?” the doctor asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. Flat on her back on the table, with a sheet covering her lower bits, and the paper gown covering her upper ones, Sophie felt exposed.

  Then Dr. Marshall came back with Colton in tow. He had his hat in hand and looked out of place as he took the chair next to the exam table. He reached for her hand as if it were a natural gesture, but she pulled it away.

  The doctor took a bottle of goo out of a holder. “A warmer,” he informed them both as he squirted the goo on her stomach.

  He rubbed the wand around her belly, firmly but not uncomfortably. He was quiet as he studied the screen. “When did you say your last period was?”

  “I remember having one when Abbey was sick. That was the end of April. It was a very light period. Hardly worth noticing.”

  “I suspect it wasn’t a period at all. Some women have minor spotting the first few weeks. Some throughout their entire pregnancy.”

  It took Sophie a moment to realize what he was saying. “So, I was pregnant in April?”

  The doctor studied the screen, occasionally moving the wand or pressing a button. “If my calculations are right, yes. You would have been six weeks pregnant already.”

  Sophie tried to do the math but couldn’t quite manage it. “Wait a minute, then when am I due?”

  “Mid-December.”

  “A Christmas baby.” Colton grinned. “That’s a wonderful time of the year for a miracle.”

  Sophie knew he’d thrown that term out to remind her of their conversation yesterday. To remind her he wasn’t only a sperm donor.

  She’d known even as she’d called him a sperm donor that the words were unfair, but she wouldn’t take them back then or now.

  “Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”

  The doctor’s question startled her. “Wait, you can tell already?”

  “Yes.” They hadn’t talked about finding out the sex or not. Hell, they hadn’t talked about anything.

  Colton sat next to her, not saying anything with words, but she could read him as easily now as she could a few weeks ago when they were in love. When they were promising to spend the rest of their lives together.

  “Yes?” she asked, just to clarify.

  He nodded.

  She looked at Dr. Marshall and he grinned. “It’s a boy.”

  A boy.

  She was going to have a son.

  Colton squeezed her hand, and she realized that she must have unconsciously taken his. She glanced at him and knew that he didn’t care about the gender, but knowing the baby was a boy made the baby—made him—seem more real. And he would be here sooner.

  A son in December. Not February.

  The doctor slapped Colton’s back and congratulated him as they left the room. Sophie changed back into her clothes. She knew her stomach protruded a little more than it had in the past, but eighteen weeks pregnant? It didn’t seem possible.

  It didn’t seem possible that in December she’d have a son.

  She set up her next appointment with Dr. Marshall and found Colton standing by the office exit.

  “So, are we going to talk now?” he asked. “December’s not that far away.”
<
br />   “December or February, it doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “Sophie, this baby changes everything.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “I guess in a way it does—he does. We’ll never have the clean break I anticipated. I thought we’d get to a point where we’d smile and nod at one another, but the baby means we’ll have to talk. Talk about discipline and schools. Talk about schedules and... So, we’ll talk about the baby, but otherwise, nothing’s changed.”

  Colton waited until they were in the car, then he blurted out. “What about the baby’s last name?”

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “I want it to be McCray. I understand if you don’t want my last name, but I think a son should have his father’s last name. And since you won’t marry me...” He let the sentence fade right there.

  Sophie was thankful he stopped. She was too overwhelmed by the thoughts that the baby—her son—would arrive in December to pick up that same argument again.

  And frankly, she hadn’t thought that far ahead to consider what the baby’s last name should be since she wasn’t married to Colton.

  Colton kept asking for things she couldn’t or wouldn’t give him. This one request was easy to acquiesce to. “I’ve never been particularly proud of my real last name. The Moreau-Ellis names never brought me anything but pain. And Johnston was simply a name I made up, so that’s fine.”

  There. That was almost civilized. If they could stick to this kind of conversation about the baby, they’d do okay.

  “I want your last name to be McCray, too,” Colton insisted.

  Of course, Colton couldn’t leave things at settling the baby’s last name. She shook her head and sighed. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why?” he said. “You loved me a few weeks ago. You were ready to say I do and tie your life to mine. I’d say we have more at stake now than we had a few weeks ago.”

  “Twenty days ago,” she said without thinking. Tomorrow they should have been married for three weeks.

  “I know you. You don’t fall in and out of love. You loved me then and you haven’t stopped loving me twenty days later because I made a mistake.”