The Family Plan

by Susan Gable

  Her child laughed, the sound easing Amelia’s stomach.

  “Sorry.” Jordan pulled them back a few inches. Amelia made admiring noises, inhaling the soft perfume of the blossoms. Score one for the antinausea meds.

  Finn rounded the foot of the bed. “Where should I put these?”

  “Over there, on the media shelves. Where I’ll be able to see them.”

  He cleared some DVDs off the top shelf, set the vase on it. “How’s that?”

  “Good. Thank you. They’re lovely.”

  “That’s not the surprise.”

  “It’s not?” She flexed her feet beneath the covers, stretching the muscles in her legs that quivered in fight or flight response.

  He shook his head. “Now, we need some cooperation from you. Do you trust me, Amelia?”

  She glanced at her daughter. The tentative smile on her face overpowered the paleness, the dark circles under her eyes, the tiredness in them. “Say yes, Mom,” Jordan urged.

  Amelia looked back at Finn. His mischievous grin confirmed it—he was the tallest of the fishing boys in the photo. “I suppose,” she finally drawled.

  Jordan clapped her hands and scrambled off the bed, bouncing her. Chip started kicking hard.

  Finn pulled something out of his back pocket. A navy-blue dish towel. He folded it lengthwise, then held it in front of him as he bent toward her.

  “Wait a minute. What are you doing?”

  “I’m blindfolding you. We can’t very well set up a surprise in the same room as you without a blindfold, can we?”

  Jordan paused in the doorway. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Mom. We worked hard on this. Come on.”

  Amelia sighed. “All right.”

  “Good choice.” He draped the cloth over her eyes.

  She lifted her head, allowed him to tie the ends at the back of her head. His lips brushed her ear. “Wish I had you in my bed under much different circumstances,” he whispered. “Blindfolded. Kinky.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, then shut it, not knowing where Jordan was.

  “One more thing. We don’t want you listening, either,” he said. “So, we have these.” He settled a pair of large headphones over her ears. The crashing roll of waves blended with gentle instrumental music.

  Great. Now she was immobilized, blind and deaf. But Jordan’s anticipation made Amelia lie there and take it despite her rising anxiety.

  The bed jiggled. The air in the room stirred as they flitted around. Tantalizing aromas—non-pumpkin pie ones—got stronger. She sniffed, analyzing. What was it?

  A finger tapped the tip of her nose. The left headphone was lifted. “What part of surprise don’t you get?” Finn asked. “Do you try to find your Christmas presents before Christmas, too?”

  “No. It just smells good—”

  “Of course it does. I made it.”

  She scowled. “I was trying to figure out what it was by the smell.”

  “Well, stop. We need two more minutes. Think you can survive your curiosity that long?”

  “If I must.”

  “Good.” He let the earpiece drop against her ear, once more shutting her out of the room.

  She had no way to tell if it was two minutes or ten or something in the middle when he finally removed the headphones completely. The towel also came off.

  She opened her eyes, then blinked a few times. A red-and-white checked tablecloth was spread over the empty side of the bed. On it was a platter of fried chicken, a tossed salad and a watermelon elaborately carved into a basket containing a juicy fruit salad.

  “What’s this?” She nudged a long glass pan filled with…she dipped her finger in it. Sand. A partially buried bowl of water was tucked into the corner.

  “That’s the beach, Mom. We’re having a beach picnic.” Jordan hovered at the side of the bed.

  “A beach picnic?”

  Finn pushed open the glass doors, letting in a blast of warmer air. “Yep. We figured if you couldn’t go to the beach, we’d bring the beach to you. Check it out.” He picked up the remote from the night table, aiming it at the big screen and turning on the TV. They’d hooked Jordan’s video camera to it. The beach, dotted with families under umbrellas, kids running along the edge of the water, appeared—the red-and-white checked tablecloth at the bottom of the frame. The camera jerked and wobbled, going out of focus as he turned it around.

  Jordan waggled her fingers. “Hi, Mom! Welcome to beach six on Presque Isle.” The girl launched into a travellogue spiel, coached at times by Finn’s off camera, sensual voice.

  Amelia’s chest tightened. She held out her hand to her daughter. “This is wonderful. Thank you, sweetheart.”

  Jordan carefully settled onto the picnic cloth, squeezing her fingers. “It was Finn’s idea.”

  As Amelia opened her mouth to thank him, her stomach growled loudly. She pressed her palm to it, face warming.

  Finn laughed. “I think that was Chip saying enough with the chitchat. Feed me.” He took a plate from the media center.

  While they indulged in the best fried chicken she’d ever tasted, the video on the flat-screen offered her a guided tour of Presque Isle, alternately narrated by Jordan and Finn. She saw the Perry Monument, the view of the city from across the bay, and the “floating houses.” An otter darted into the bushes after crossing the road. The wild shaking of the camera as Jordan scrambled to capture it made Amelia stop eating and once again give thanks for the antinausea meds. Mallard ducks bobbed on small waves, and turtles sunned themselves on a log.

  Sweat dotted Amelia’s forehead as warm, sticky air continued to billow in through the open door. “Do me a favor?” she asked Finn, who’d pulled a chair to the side of the bed. “Shut that door? I think I’d like to enjoy my beach picnic in air-conditioned comfort. Phew, it doesn’t get this warm in Caribou except maybe a few days in the dead of summer.”

  After he got up, he set his plate on the chair. The doors trundled shut. He latched them. “Wimp.”

  The video continued. Finn excused himself to clean up the food, but left her “beach” and “lake” in the glass pan. Jordan shoved it aside, snuggling into Amelia’s side, laying her head against her mother’s shoulder.

  Amelia caressed her long, silky hair, Jordan’s pride and joy. The treatments to this point didn’t include any meds that would make it fall out. She’d already expressed dismay about losing it from the chemo that would precede the transplant. But that was a bridge to cross in the future. Within minutes, the girl’s breathing evened out, and she dropped into sleep.

  When Finn came back, Amelia pressed a finger to her lips. He nodded. “Do you want me to put her in her own bed?” he whispered, pantomiming his message as well.

  She shook her head.

  He moved to the media center, fiddled with Jordan’s camera. The screen filled with static for a moment, then new footage appeared.

  An almost deserted beach. A small, lone figure at the water’s edge. Jordan, with her jeans rolled up to midcalf, the water covering her feet, then receding. She extended her arms, the wind blowing her hair. Tilting her face to the sky, she spun in a slow circle.

  Finn leaned over to whisper in Amelia’s ear. “She doesn’t know I filmed her. Thought you’d get a kick out of watching her.”

  As he straightened, Amelia grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This…was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Enough to make you like surprises?”

  “Doubt it.”

  He leaned back down, cupped the side of her face in his palm. “Pay up.”

  “W-wha—”

  His lips brushed hers, a gentle, easy kiss that sent her pulse racing. She glanced down at Jordan as he pulled away.

  “Don’t worry, she’s asleep.” He skimmed his fingertips over Amelia’s cheek. “Remember I told you last night, anything you or Jordan need, I want to help.”

  “I need shelter. Food. Waiting on hand and foot. And you’re providing all that. I don’
t think a bedroom beach picnic counts as a need.”

  He stood, lifting one broad shoulder. “Sometimes the soul needs more than the basics, Amelia. There’s bread, and then there’s a homemade garlic oregano sourdough.” After a wary glance at the television, he stopped in the archway, about to leave. “I’ll be back later with dessert.” He eased the door three-quarters shut behind him.

  Amelia resumed stroking Jordan’s hair, watching her daughter relish the sun and the water on the TV. A weather-worn wooden table came into the frame at the bottom. The camera wobbled, then was set down, still pointed in Jordan’s direction. A moment passed, and a large, male hand appeared in front of the lens. The focus adjusted automatically.

  There was a message in blue ink on his palm.

  Wish you were here.

  Butterflies that had nothing to do with Chip flitted in Amelia’s stomach, and her whole body tensed.

  The hand vanished. A second later, Finn stood in front of the camera, bending over to peer into it. He reached out, made an adjustment, then winked. He turned and dashed down the beach in Jordan’s direction, catching the girl up in his arms and spinning her around at the water’s edge. Her shrieks of laughter carried to the camera’s microphone.

  They both staggered a moment, then he draped his arm over her shoulders, pointing toward the camera. He said something, and they both waved.

  Wish you were here.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOR A DAY OFF, IT hadn’t been much fun, or relaxing.

  No day at the beach.With Hayden out on a date and the rest of the house still, Finn stood in Jordan’s darkened bedroom. Even in the dim light slanting from the bathroom, he could see the healthier color of her skin.

  Thinking about the medical procedures she’d endured to change her pallor to something more normal, he sank to his knees on the braided rug next to the bed. Her left arm lay outside the covers. He skimmed the edge of the bandage in its crook, where they’d drawn blood that morning.

  He’d almost drawn blood of his own when the damn inept newbie at the office had stuck her for the third time and still not hit a vein. Jordan had scrunched her eyes shut and squeezed his hand so hard the bones grated. He’d damn near lost the eggs Benedict he’d had for breakfast.

  Which would have proven his ineptness as a father. His inability to handle his first major “daddy” task with Jordan. With his daughter.

  Amazing what a unit of blood could do. Unfortunately, it turned out that too many transfusions could damage her liver—to the point of failure. Hence the need for the transplant to reboot her own blood cell making system.

  He brushed loose hair from her forehead, then awkwardly leaned over and kissed her. “You’ll be the death of me, kiddo, I can see it now.”

  She stirred, then rolled onto her side. His knees popped as he stood. After one lingering look from the doorway, he headed to check on Amelia.

  His admiration for her had grown enormously that morning. To helplessly watch your child suffer through medical procedures…

  And she’d been doing it alone.

  The television and computer monitor lit her room. Yesterday’s video of Jordan on the beach. Amelia jabbed the remote, freezing the image, when he entered.

  “You’re still awake.”

  “No, I’m sleeping. I’m just good at multitasking.”

  “What’s keeping you up tonight?”

  She sighed, laying her hands on her stomach. “Chip’s training for a marathon. Or something.”

  Finn crossed the room. “May I?” He gestured to the bed.

  “Why not?” She grabbed for the covers to pull them up.

  “No, don’t.” He took them from her hands. “Please…” He climbed onto the mattress, sitting beside her with his legs folded. The thin nightshirt draped over her rounded belly shifted as his son moved. Finn gently placed his hand over the spot. The baby bumped his palm repeatedly.

  “I see what you mean.” Finn leaned over. “Chip, it’s bedtime.”

  “Faulty argument. These days, it’s always bedtime for us.”

  “Okay. It’s nighttime. Your mother needs sleep. Settle down in there. You’ve been a good boy for staying in your room so far, so I’m doubling your allowance.” Finn lifted his gaze to meet Amelia’s. “Do you think he already knows that twice nothing is nothing?”

  “Of course. He’s very smart. Advanced for his age.”

  “Which would explain why he was in such a hurry to get out here.” Beneath his hand, the baby’s movements slowed. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Amelia snorted. “Figures. He likes the sound of your voice.”

  “He does? So should I keep talking until he falls asleep in there?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “What if I want to?”

  “Your choice… I heard you threatened the tech this morning at the doctor’s office.” Her eyebrows rose slightly.

  “Is that who I threatened? I thought I’d threatened an incompetent idiot who couldn’t draw blood without making a very stoic girl, who’d assured me all along that it wasn’t a big deal and wouldn’t hurt much, wince in pain.” Finn stroked small, featherlight circles on Amelia’s belly.

  “Your status has been elevated. First flowers, then threatening bodily harm to people who hurt her. I swear, much more and you’re going to bypass fatherhood and be catapulted right to demigod.” Amelia sighed, then placed her hand over his to still it. “She’s putting you on a high pedestal, Finn.”

  “And you’re worried about what happens when I fall from grace and she finds out I’m only human?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  He was worried, too. He’d crashed and burned enough in his life. That fizzing spark, the disappointment in the eyes of someone who loved you, who you loved. He didn’t want to experience that again.

  He pulled his hand away. “So, what am I supposed to do? Not even try?”

  When the silence stretched to the point of making them both fidget, Amelia said, “Change of subject.” She picked up the remote, and the video lurched back to life on the TV. A moment later, his hand came into view on the screen.

  Finn’s face warmed when she paused it again with his ink-covered palm slightly off center. The note had been a crazy impulse. He cleared his throat. “Okay. What about it?”

  “What possessed you to write that?”

  He shrugged. What had possessed him? “Temporary insanity?”

  She watched him. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He shrugged again. “It felt like one of those perfect moments, you know?” He reached across her, grabbing the remote from her far hand. He skipped forward to the part where he’d swept Jordan into his arms and spun her.

  “See that? That was just amazing. But one thing was missing.”

  Amelia waited several moments. “What?”

  “You.”

  She closed her eyes and pressed her lips tight.

  He shifted, then cradled her cheeks in his hands. “Don’t do that, Amelia. Don’t shut me out.”

  If he hadn’t been holding on to her, he’d have missed the slight shake of her head. “We can’t always get what we want,” she whispered. “Please, Finn, don’t…it’s not fair. I’m trapped here, at your mercy.”

  He recoiled. “At my mercy?” He jumped off the bed, grabbed the covers and pulled them over her. “If you want, I can make arrangements for you to move to my parents’ house. The rest of the Hawkins crew will still take care of you and Jordan until Chip’s born, but you won’t have to see me at all. I wouldn’t want you feeling beholden to me, or anything crazy like that. Or trapped.” He strode for the door.

  “Wait! That’s not what I meant. Damn it. Finn. Come back here. Finn!”

  He made it to the door of his temporary bedroom in the front of the house before his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He yanked it out, checked the caller ID. Amelia. As expected. He shoved it back in his pocket.

  Hayden poked his head out of his bedroom on the other sid
e of the hallway. “Everything all right? Thought I heard Amelia.”

  “You did. Everything’s fine.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh, what?”

  “Let’s have a beer, Fish. I’m buyin’.” Hayden came out wearing only a pair of skintight boxer briefs.

  “Put some clothes on. There’s an impressionable young girl in the house, and she doesn’t need to see your abs of steel. Or anything else, for that matter.” Finn gestured at his brother. “Besides, I don’t see any pockets in that getup if you’re buying.”

  “Sure.”

  Finn fumbled with the knob on the door at the top of the front staircase. During the remodel, he’d had the door installed, and the top railings replaced with walls. This door and the one in the kitchen that protected the back staircase both had keypad lock systems. To keep his private space private.

  His cell phone vibrated against his thigh again.

  As he started down the stairs, Hayden caught up to him. In the foyer, they turned right into the bar. Finn flipped on a couple lights. Enough to see by, not enough to blind them, or make anyone think they were open for business. He slumped onto the end stool, head in his hands.

  “Uh-huh. I knew it.” Hayden slipped behind the bar. His brother had held numerous summer jobs tending bar, and when needed, pinch-hit for Finn at Fresh.

  “Knew what, smart guy?”

  Hayden got two mugs out of the cooler, tipped one and pulled the Killian handle. Foam sloshed over the edge and trickled down the side when he set it in front of Finn. “You’re a goner.”

  Finn jerked his head up. “Goner? You’d better dump that beer. You’ve obviously had too much already.”

  “How long before you suspected about Greg and Shannon?”

  “That first time we saw them together, the day he brought her and Ryan home for Sunday dinner.”

  “I rest my case.” Hayden chugged some of the foamy ale, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Like I’m going to take relationship advice from you, creator of the patented Thirty Days, No More, No Less Relationship System.”

  “You just admitted there’s a relationship.”