by Jean Oram
“I can not believe it!” the woman said. “I swear I thought Logan was a big fat liar!”
Zach inhaled slowly as though about to deal with a younger sibling. “Catherine, this is Ginger. Logan’s wife. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Catherine gave him a questioning glance before being enveloped by Ginger.
She squeezed Catherine, her scent like the outdoors, then held her at arm’s length. “You’re British. Of course! It’s perfect. Why didn’t I think of finding Zach someone British?”
She released her grip.
“This is Xavier,” Zach said, turning the stroller so Ginger could see Catherine’s son. He was bundled in a thick layer of blankets, making Catherine feel like an ill-equipped mother. She fussed over her son. He was warm enough like this outdoors, but it was embarrassing not to have him dressed in proper winter attire.
“He’s adorable.” Ginger took in the child with a sweep, then turned to Zach once more. “A single mom, you scallywag. I can’t believe you two met and married online. I thought Logan was pulling my leg. And you’re so pretty…” She turned to Catherine again. “Why would you ever agree to marry this guy, sight unseen?” She slung an arm around Zach with an affection that told Catherine more about the man than any of Ginger’s words.
The woman had quieted, watching her, waiting for an answer.
Catherine opened her mouth to reply to what she had believed was a rhetorical question, but couldn’t summon anything to mind other than Zach’s Genghis Khan quote. “‘If you’re afraid, don’t do it. If you’re doing it, don’t be afraid.’”
Zach chuckled and gave his puzzled-looking friend a shrug before sharing a smile and a wink with Catherine, making her feel as though she was sharing a secret with him. Was this their first inside joke as a couple? Or rather, as friends?
“It’s not love yet. But I like what’s going on here.” Ginger looked at the two of them. “It’ll soon be something more. Quote me on that.”
She focused on Catherine again, who turned her attention toward the stack of thick, insulated pants Jen had waiting for her to try on.
“Team Waffles or Team Pancakes?” Ginger asked her.
“What?”
“Oh, I do love your accent.” She tried to imitate the roll of her ‘a’ and failed. “I’m a sucker for accents. It’s what drew me to Logan—my husband. He’s Australian. So dreamy.”
“Speaking of dreamy, this is Rob. My husband.” Jen put her arm around the waist of a man who had come to join them from one of the back rooms.
“I’m dreamy now, am I?” he asked, looking at her in amusement. “I thought I was His Holy Major Hotness.”
“That, too.” Jen went up on tiptoes to give him a kiss. And the way she smiled up at him, her body snug against his, made Catherine wistful. She wanted that. She didn’t dare dream of having it for herself, but it looked absolutely wonderful.
Zach wished Catherine would hurry up and finish shopping. She’d be diligently trying things on, ignoring the conversations and banter around her, and then something would catch her attention and she’d drift off, watching Jen and Rob, or get swept back into conversation with Ginger.
If he and Catherine weren’t careful they were going to end up with their social calendar booked solid for the next week. And Zach didn’t particularly want to have a social calendar at the moment. He had to figure out this whole husband thing and what his exact role was before they started going out on the town as Mr. and Mrs.
“Come on, join us,” Ginger begged. “It’s just a little birthday party for John. We’re pretending it’s an intervention, but then we’ll surprise him with cake.”
“He’ll never fall for it,” Zach said. Then added for Catherine’s benefit, “John Abcott’s a lawyer. And the townsfolk are always throwing surprise parties.” He added again for Catherine, “The town likes to throw them as they had a really successful one a few months back.”
“Please?” Ginger said. “It’ll be a great way to introduce your new little family to the community.”
Jen nodded.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Rob offered.
“We’re not a…” Zach glanced at Catherine, who was looking as uncomfortable as he felt. Yes, legally, he supposed they were a family, and yet he didn’t feel as though he’d earned the right to call Catherine and her son that. “It’s a bit soon. Catherine’s exhausted. The jet lag is crazy.”
“Everyone’s going to show up at your door,” Ginger warned.
She was likely right. If they didn’t appear in public, the public would come to them.
“It might be a good idea,” Catherine said tentatively. “We could pop over for a minute or two?”
Zach could see the pros and cons of going to the party, but the smudges under Catherine’s eyes were darkening despite the long sleep she’d had last night.
“You’ve only just arrived,” he said, knowing he was pleading.
“It’s been about twenty-four hours,” Jen said with an amused smile.
“They’re going to ask us if we’re planning a reception,” Zach warned Catherine.
“They expect a wedding reception?” she asked in surprise.
“What a grand idea!” Ginger exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I have the perfect dress in my shop and a tiny tux that would be so adorable on Xavier.”
“Whoa,” Zach said, calming Ginger. “Easy, girl. There’s no need for us to have a big party of any sort.”
“You’re a real killjoy, you know that?” she retorted with a scowl.
“Speaking of parties, when does this birthday party start?” Catherine asked, changing the subject and making Zach like her all the more.
“In ten minutes if you want to be there to yell ‘Surprise!’”
“We don’t,” Zach said firmly, ushering his wife toward the cash register. Anything they hadn’t already picked out could be purchased tomorrow.
“But yelling ‘Surprise!’ is so much fun. You never know if they’re going to pee their pants or not,” Ginger said.
Zach grimaced. The people he knew best tended to be a wee bit unpredictable when taken off guard. With special agents, their training tended to kick in and they went into self-protection mode, hand to their holster, or flipping over anyone who made the mistake of making body contact. Hardly a good way to start off a party. Although he doubted the nearing-retirement lawyer was armed or likely to otherwise defend himself when shouted at by a roomful of friends.
Zach slowly exhaled, realizing he was thinking like an agent, and not some boring regular joe.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll come by in thirty minutes, and we’re not staying a minute longer than twenty. Got it?”
“You’re so cute when you get all tough and macho,” Ginger cooed. “Doesn’t he look cute with that red spreading up his neck?” she asked Catherine.
His wife’s mouth curved up in mild amusement, but wisely, she began pushing her son toward the doors. Even though she obviously wanted to go to the party, she might be a keeper.
5
By the time Catherine made it home, having shoved the stroller through the thick snow for blocks, she was a sweaty, tired mess. Her new parka, which reached her knees, almost meeting up with her high-on-the-calf winter boots, definitely did the trick keeping her toasty. She felt like she could hunker down and hibernate in this getup.
Zach, who’d tried to help despite her brushing him off, had carried the large bag of castoffs and extra winter items. Now, he battled the slippery armful as he tried to unlock the door, while keeping the bag out of the piled up drifts. It must have snowed six inches in thirty minutes. She’d never seen anything like it.
The snow had let up, but the heavy clouds above looked as though there was plenty more to come. And she’d agreed to go out again. To a party. In a room filled with people she didn’t know.
The town was great. She’d already decided that. It was very much what she was looking for in terms of raising Xavier. But it was a bit
much with the enthusiastic welcomes. Okay, a lot much.
She was overwhelmed. But if she stayed home to catch her breath instead of going to the party, she was certain she’d be entertaining surprise visitors for days.
It was best to get it all over with now. Satisfy their curiosity about the newcomer so she could have some peace later in the week.
“Did Jen say she brought over a car seat?” she asked Zach.
“She did.”
“And you have a car?”
“I do.”
Catherine unzipped her coat and shoved her cap higher, off her forehead. The right gear obviously made all the difference when it came to staying warm.
“How’s the parka?” Zach asked, the skin around his eyes creasing with amusement as he took in her overheated appearance.
“Perfect.” And it would take weeks of part-time work to pay it off.
In time, she reminded herself. In time.
Zach swung the front door open and the bag in his arms escaped his grip, spilling its contents. He turned and picked up the stroller, child and all, and carried them indoors. Catherine hurried up the snowy steps and collected the blankets Xavier had been in, her new snow pants and Zach’s borrowed jacket off the floor.
“Thanks,” Zach plunked the stroller on the tiled floor of the entry. They were going to have a wet, slippery mess in here when all this snow melted. She had a feeling winter was going to be a lot of work.
Zach checked his watch, and she wondered if he was the last man their age who wore one, for practical reasons. “I’m going to run this ring over to Gran. Wanna come? She’s a hoot.”
“You’re serious about not being there for the ‘Surprise!’ part of the party?”
“I said thirty minutes. We still have twenty.”
It was tempting to stay home, to melt into a chair for a few minutes. But she also wanted to see what kind of man she’d married. Would he truly return the ring if she didn’t go with him? Although who would say he was going to do something and then not do it?
Her brothers.
Uncles.
Father.
She sighed inwardly and rezipped her new coat. “I hope we’re driving this time.”
“We can drive,” Zach confirmed. He stepped into the living room, collected the car seat and head to the garage. Catherine pulled Xavier from the stroller and followed him.
He was standing in front of a surprisingly small car, holding the seat by its top handle, making it look like a large picnic basket in his easy grip. He sucked one corner of his lips into his mouth in thought, then twisted to glance at her. “You have any idea how to install this thing?”
“I think so.” She handed the bundled-up infant to him, gave Xavier an affectionate tap on his nose with the tip of her finger and opened the back door to the little Nissan. Somehow she’d expected the man to drive something larger. All the vehicles she’d seen on the roads so far seemed to be supersized and sprawling, just like the local homes and yards.
She pushed the baby carrier across the bench seat. “In the middle is the safest,” she said over her shoulder. Zach was lightly bouncing Xavier, trying to peer into the small space to watch what she was doing.
She took the long lap belt and twisted the infant seat so it rested backwards against the seat back. She found the spot for the seat belt, clicked it in place, cinched it and awkwardly backed out again.
“Is that ball supposed to be in the green zone?” Zach asked, peering into the backseat.
“What ball?” She pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead.
“That leveling gauge on the side of the baby seat. The ball is in the red.” Zach pointed to something that definitely looked like a safety device calling her installation efforts a failure.
“Here.” Zach handed her Xavier and crawled in, banging his head on the roof as he went.
“Are you okay?”
“Peachy,” he grumbled.
“Somehow I pictured you with a larger vehicle.”
“It’s in the shop being repaired. This is a loaner.”
“What happened?”
“Needed a new bumper.”
“What did you hit?” she asked.
He grunted as he adjusted the seat. “I didn’t hit anyone.”
“It was their fault then?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he said tersely.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” she teased, testing his temper. Did he have a slow fuse or a quick one? What would he be like when he lost it?
“Not especially.”
Was he embarrassed? That was kind of cute.
He backed out of the car a moment later, his face bright with triumph, the earlier hint of a temper gone. She handed Xavier to him again and crawled across once more to check his work. She gave the seat a good hard yank like she’d been taught to do. It moved.
“It’s not tight enough. It shifted.”
“Seriously?” He let out a grumble and passed her Xavier, trading places with her yet again.
This time he stuck a knee into the baby seat as he cinched the belt. “There. That’s not going anywhere. We’re in the green. It’s tight.” He banged his skull coming out of the car and this time let out a quiet curse as he clutched his head. “Tell me we don’t have to do this every time we want to go somewhere.”
“No, there’s a base that the carrier clicks in and out of.” Her stomach dropped as she realized she didn’t know where the base was. They’d strung the seat belt across the carrier instead. They’d done it incorrectly.
She groaned and refrained from releasing a few of her own curse words. She was overheating, Xavier was fed up with being handed back and forth and was starting to fuss. And they’d installed the seat all wrong.
“Where’s the base?” Zach asked.
“I thought you babysat.”
“There was no reason to drive the kids anywhere.”
“The base,” she said, as she squatted down to look more closely at the setup, “is connected to the carrier.”
“So we disconnect them?”
“Maybe we should walk,” she suggested.
“I never admit defeat to baby seats. We install the base, click in the carrier?”
She could hear him going into problem-solving mode and she relaxed, certain he would fix everything if she just stepped aside.
“Yes.”
It was a nice feeling, being able to hand off this problem and all the frustration that went with it.
“What are you doing?” she asked. He had his phone out and was poking at the screen.
“I’m going to look up the manual online. It’s time to get serious. Get this done right.”
“You’re searching for the manual?”
“Yes.”
That was sexy. And it was definitely better than what had happened in the past, with the brand-new bookshelf she’d bought herself at age fourteen. Her determined father, meaning well as he helped her put it together, had instead destroyed it. He’d become certain that he was assembling it the correct way, and that the boards just needed a few more drill holes.
“You and I will not be bested by an infant seat,” Zach promised. “Not today.”
Catherine could tell Zach was feeling pretty pleased with himself as he drove them to the nursing home, Xavier secured in his car seat. It had been simple to install once they’d figured out how to do it. Although she had a feeling they were going to be later to the party than their thirty-minute promise.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?” she asked as Zach pulled into the snowy parking lot outside a hospital and adjoined care center near the edge of town.
“Nope. All those hours sorting and untangling threads for my grandmother as she knitted, crocheted or did her needlepoint have paid off more than once.”
“No way,” Catherine said, delighted. “You were a sweet little towheaded boy sitting at the feet of your grandmother, tending to her yarn as she stitched?”
“Towheaded?”
“Blond.”
“Oh. Yes. There was, however, a wee bit of protest.”
“She must have been quite the woman. Wrangling you into essentially watching paint dry while she sat and stitched?”
“I can still hear her in my mind.” His voice hit a higher, wobblier note as he spoke in a feminine voice. “‘Zachary dear, quit fidgeting. The world needs more patient men.’”
“I’ll agree with her there.”
“Or ‘The world will still be there doing the same old things in an hour. I need you here now.’”
“She was tough.” Catherine watched Zach as he angled the car into a parking spot, noting the sureness of his grip on the wheel, the way his eyes darted to shoulder check and take a peep in his rearview mirror as he straightened the vehicle. He was strong, kind, patient and everything solid and good at first glance. All qualities she hoped her son would have.
“Even my first army commander wasn’t as tough as she’d been. He was a little more direct and a bit less patient, though. ‘Stick with the problem, Forrester, or I’ll kick your…’ Well, you get the picture.”
Catherine smiled at the image of a commander ruling over Zach. “How long were you in the army?”
“It wasn’t always the army, but that life kept me employed and fed since I was a teen.”
“It suited you?”
“I thought so.”
“But?” She could hear something in his voice.
“Aw, you know. The grass is always greener.”
“Is it?” She was curious if he believed the expression to be true in his case.
He shrugged after turning off the engine, then gazed through the windshield as though mentally balancing out both sides. “When your daily work involves danger you begin to feel paranoid that your card’s about to be punched.”
“What do you mean?”
“When it comes to dodging death there are only so many times you can be lucky. Every time you play the odds.”
She shivered at the thought of him facing danger, of the old arguments her parents used to have.
“But every time you play, the odds reset,” she said quietly, quoting her father. He used to fight with her mother over how he could get caught embezzling, or whatever the crime de jour happened to be. It had amazed Catherine that they’d stayed together despite the fights. Most of the other men in the gang were in and out of marriages and relationships faster than anyone could keep track. It wasn’t cheap, either. She’d seen more than one disgruntled ex-wife quieted with a thick envelope of cash to go spend on herself.