Wow. Maybe I didn’t need to do the Clomid. Maybe I should have waited. Did I push my timeline ahead of God’s? Or was that God’s way of repairing my body—making it work once so it could work again? I doubt I’ll ever know. Still, after the infection and the trouble conceiving, Dr. Kline said less than a 20% chance of conception and here I am.
But a baby. Conceived without the help of any little pill or mucous or other anything but God alone. I feel like Eve. If this is a boy, I know my first thought will be, "I have gotten a man child with the help of the LORD."
Chapter 201
Becca burst into the trailer, covered with mud, muck, and with hay in her hair. Josh glanced up and grinned. “Hey, babe.”
“Hey!”
As he stood to hug her, she stepped back. “I’m filthy. Lemme take a quick shower.”
Josh’s forehead wrinkled in concentration as he stared at her. “You are so gorgeous.”
“You,” she retorted, laughing, “are such a liar. But I love that you say it.”
“No seriously. C’mere.” He dragged her to the bathroom and shoved her inside. “Look. You are just—wow.”
“That’s Willow’s word.”
“Well, maybe it’s from spending all that time on this farm then, because you are just—wow.”
“You said that!” Becca smiled. “If I wasn’t so filthy and stinky, I’d kiss you for that.”
Without hesitation, he kissed her, holding her close for as long as he trusted himself. “Four days,” he murmured as he stepped back and started to close the door. “Take that shower but for your sake, not mine.”
Her eyes roamed his face, trying to read something there. “That didn’t gross you out?”
“Not at all. Why?”
“Once upon a time, you would have been polite enough to kiss me, but grossed out enough to keep it short and sweet.” Becca reached to slide her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes, waiting for it, but it never came.
“Wha—”
“Sorry. Hands are pretty gross too. Had to clean out the coops today.”
A twinge of revulsion at the idea of chicken feathers and manure in his hair pushed through his defenses, but he stuffed it back down. “My life with you means that sometimes I’ll find a stray feather in my house—maybe even in my hair. I can deal…” He bent low and allowed his lips to brush across her ear as he finished, “but only if you bring ‘em in.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and examined him until a slow smile spread across her face again. “Any idiot who doubts that you love me—even if that idiot is me—just needs to hear that. That right there. You are amazing.”
“And I’ve got shepherd’s pie in the oven.”
Becca glanced around him and back up at him. “That doesn’t smell like glorified meatloaf and mashed potatoes to me.”
“I told you—country gourmet. I got Willow to give me some ground venison to try. Man, that stuff smelled good while I was cooking it.”
“It smells amazing now, but I thought it was a roast or something.” She frowned. “Wait… either something really good happened today or something really bad. Which is it?”
His shoulders drooped, and he forced himself to smile as he admitted, “Both.”
“Gimme the bad first.”
“I have to be back to work next Friday. Can’t get out of it. That new client with the new development? He wants to meet with us on Friday and wasn’t too happy to hear I wouldn’t be there.”
Excitement radiated in her eyes. “Which is good for your job. That tells Margo that you are valued.”
Josh couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed her, trying to swing her around in the small space of the trailer. “You’re d—arn right that’s good for my job. Got a raise and added to the benefits package. We’ve got insurance starting the Monday after the honeymoon, so do not get hurt on our abbreviated trip.”
As she chewed her lip in thought, Josh’s heart sank. As excited as she was, it appeared she was disappointed too. He couldn’t blame her. “So you have to be there Friday morning, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have to work over the weekend too?”
“Margo promised me no.” He kissed her forehead, hardly noticing the layer of grit that transferred to his lips. Improvement again. “Why?”
“We could keep the room then. I could come back and help Willow out for the day and you could work and then we could go back. We wouldn’t have to cancel the weekend…”
“That sounds about perfect. I thought you were going to be disappointed.”
She reached for a towel from one cupboard and pulled clean yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt from another. Josh swallowed hard as she pulled out a clean bra and panties. As he forced his eyes to the floor, he repeated his recent mantra of self-preservation. Four days. Four days. Four days—almost three.
“Of course I’d rather not have to leave,” she bent low and gazed up into his eyes. “But this is big. You’re getting a name for yourself already. I knew you would,” She added as she stepped back into the bathroom. “You know this stuff like no one else I can imagine. You can make any style look perfect. It’s amazing.”
He leaned against the little refrigerator, shoved his hands in his pocket in a perfect imitation of Chad, and closed his eyes, resting his head on the cupboard door above. She’s amazing, Lord. That woman loves me—me! And thank you. Thank you for letting me get past things that bother me, even if it’s only for today.
As the timer dinged telling him to take dinner from the oven, a new idea hit him. “Apple cider and currant salad dressing… that’d be delicious…” Josh couldn’t stand waiting. He grabbed his phone and called Willow. “Hey, do you grow currants?” Her affirmative answer nearly sent him through the roof. “Can I have some? Frozen, jellied—I don’t care.”
Five minutes later, Becca stepped out of the bathroom with hair wrapped in a towel. Her eyes slid over the shepherd’s pie, the bowl of salad, and around the room. He’d vanished.
Aiden Cox ambled down Center Street, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his hands jammed in his jacket pocket. Third day in a row that he’d seen the kid without a helmet or something that required its use—Chad couldn’t stand it any longer. He crooked his finger and called out, “Aiden Cox…”
The boy looked ready to run. His eyes darted around him as if looking for some place—any place—to hide. Chad beckoned again. Shoulders slumping enough to slide the backpack down his arm, Aiden hoisted it up again and crossed the street—oblivious to the fact of his jaywalking.
“What gives?”
Aiden stared at him, confused. “What? I’m not riding anything without a helmet!”
“That’s my point. Where’s your skateboard?”
“At home.”
Chad nodded. “Okay, what about your scooter?”
“Home.”
“And your bike?” He thought he’d figured it out.
“Home too, okay? I’m walking.”
“For the third day in a row.” Chad crossed his arms over his chest and stood with feet apart. At the sight of Aiden’s wide eyes, he dropped his arms and forced himself to relax. No need to scare the kid.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Are you grounded?”
“Is it any of your business?” The moment he spoke, Aiden started backing away. “Sorry, I—”
“Come back here. Something’s up. What’s going on? You’re not grounded. I can see it in your eyes. But there’s something going on.”
The words erupted in a rush that made it difficult to follow at times. “Dad lost his job—something about the plant restructuring. Mom might find a job but by then Dad might have one so anyway we don’t have any money so they can’t pay the fines and—” The boy’s face turned a hideous shade of puce as he fought back embarrassment. “I just thought if I didn’t ride, I wouldn’t forget and then they wouldn’t have to pay for stupid stuff.”
“You always
pay your fines. I’ve been there.” It had always impressed Chad how consistently the Cox family made their son responsible for his own mistakes, even if they didn’t manage to convince him not to make them in the first place. Outside that one fault, Aiden was a pretty good kid.
“How do you think I get the money? Dad makes me work and then pays me to do it. Windows, gutters, mowing, trimming, scrubbing cabinets—all the stuff that aren’t my usual chores. I get paid slave wages too.”
Chad snickered. “Um, slaves don’t get wages, but I get your point.”
“Don’t tell Dad I told you. Mom says it’s hitting him hard—making him feel like a failure and stuff like that. His kid trying to save him money would probably make him feel worse.”
With his mind swirling with ideas, Chad nodded. “If you can, bring him down along the square around five o’clock. I’ll get him talking. I bet I can give him work next week.”
“You can’t tell him—”
“Just trust me, Aiden. I know how to save a man’s pride. I’ve got enough of the stuff for ten men as it is.” At Aiden’s grin, Chad pointed down Elm Street. “Get home before I kick you there.”
“As if!” the boy taunted. Still, he walked toward home with his shoulders a little squarer and a bit more of a spring in his step.
Chad pulled out his phone. “Lass, got a question for you.”
“Got an answer as soon as I puke up this pizza.”
Retching sounds churned his stomach. By the time she returned, he’d almost given up and disconnected the call. “You better?”
“Yep. And I owe Aggie an apology.”
“For…”
“I made pizza for lunch and that stew last night for dinner. Both tomato based. Couldn’t keep either one down. It’s not Aggie’s food; it’s that she uses tomato in so many of her dishes. My body doesn’t like it. Oh, and Dr. Kline’s nurse gave me an appointment for next week. She said being nauseated was good. I think she’s nuts.” A silent pause broke up the conversation before she said, “Wait, didn’t you call me? What did you need?”
“Who is coming to help next week?”
“I wasn’t going to have anyone for just a week. It’d take longer, but I could do it. Now I guess I’ll have to ask Luke if Laird can come or call Charlie Janovich.”
“I found out what’s up with Aiden Cox.”
“Isn’t that a bit off topic?”
Chad laughed and smiled at the expression he knew had taken over her features. He could see it as clearly as if he were in the room with her. “Not really. It’s Jon Cox. He lost his job, so Aiden decided not to ride his bike, scooter, skateboard—anything because they can’t afford the fines.”
“Aiden decided or was ordered?”
“Decided. He didn’t want his dad to know—said it would make him feel bad. I was pretty impressed with the kid, actually.”
“Aiden can’t do all this work, Chad. He has school and he’s what, ten?”
“No, but his dad could. Jon might be interested in income for the week and it’ll help you. Win-win.”
“Deal. Call him.”
“I’ll take care of it. Go eat something without tomatoes.” He laughed as he heard her mutter something about having too many canned tomatoes to avoid them for nine months. “No worries. Those things probably go away when the sickness goes.”
“Let’s hope. Ugh.”
Chad stared at the phone, still marveling that his wife was pregnant. How had that happened and so soon? Then again, the boys were almost two. It wasn’t that soon. Kari just made it seem like it. He’d have to mention that to her. Willow had made comments about a baby every nine months several times in last two days.
Five o’clock came and went. Chad glanced at his phone at regular intervals, but no luck. At a quarter to six, when he’d almost finished his shivering post on the beat, Aiden and Jon Cox strolled around the corner talking about something. “Hey, Jon. How’s it going?”
“Okay. Did you hear about Rock-Corp?”
“Were you caught in all that restructuring?” Chad prayed he’d read the man right.
“Yeah. Got my resume out there, though. I’ll find something soon.”
They chatted for a moment before Jon tugged Aiden’s sleeve. “We’d better get Mom’s milk.”
The boy pleaded with his eyes, but Chad shook his head just a bit. He had to make this as natural sounding as possible. He counted steps—one—two—three. “Hey, Jon!”
“Yeah?” The man turned and tried to put on a confident expression, but not before Chad saw defeat in his eyes. Being out of work could strip a man of self-worth faster than almost anything he could think of.
“Got any interviews next week?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t suppose you’d be available to help me out then.” He took a step forward. “You know Becca’s getting married on Friday.”
“Yeah…” Suspicion glinted in Jon’s eyes.
“Well, we’d planned for Willow to do everything. It’s not like she didn’t for years.”
“But you’ve got those little kids now,” Aiden piped up. “They probably would get their heads kicked in or something.” The boy’s eagerness would kill this if Chad didn’t stop him.
“Well, she could still manage—” Chad choked back laughter at the discouraged and betrayed expression on Aiden’s face. “—but we just found out she’s expecting again. Kind of explains the random puking. Having someone who could come out and do everything while Becca is gone—that’d be great if you’re interested.” A new thought occurred to him. “If you’re not and you know someone else who might be, I’d really appreciate it. The chief can’t let me off with Joe being gone half the week.”
“I could come. Just feeding animals and raking out stalls or something?”
“Dropping hay, moving pastures, maybe log splitting—depends on what Willow says for that. She loves to do it, but I don’t know if she’ll be up to it or not.”
“You serious? Likes to chop wood?”
“Loves it. That girl just comes alive when there’s work.” Chad grinned at Aiden’s look of incredulity. “I hope my kids get that from her, because they won’t get it from me.”
Chapter 202
Boxes of Christmas décor surrounded Willow in the Tesdall living room. Decorating Thanksgiving night seemed a bit early to her, but Marianne had insisted. “I’ve never gotten to decorate with you or my grandsons, and I want to do it.”
So, while Willow nursed Kari, trying to relax and keep the mastitis she felt trying to take root at bay, Marianne carried box after box upstairs. “We’ll save the tree for tomorrow after the reception. We can just do the other stuff tonight.”
Willow’s stomach churned. Leftover lasagna hadn’t been a good after-dinner snack idea. Chad had glared and sent silent orders to refuse as Marianne piled a plateful for her, but Willow had ignored him. It looked good and she hadn’t had a moment of discomfort all day. Maybe she was further along than they thought. Maybe the sickness stuff was already passed. The maybes now proved to be false. All she wanted was to get sick and move on. No more tomato foods. Period.
At the next wave of nausea, she jumped up and pulled Kari from her. The pain shot through her. “Ouch!”
“You’re not supposed to just rip them off like that, Willow. The suction—”
She bolted from the room and made it to the bathroom with half a second to spare. Chad chuckled. Willow wanted to dump ice water over him. That thought sounded wonderful. Exactly what she needed—a glass of ice water. Her stomach begged her. She rinsed her mouth, twice, and crept from the bathroom and into the kitchen.
Chad stood against the sink, arms across his chest. “You got me in trouble with Mom.”
“You deserved it.”
“Darn right he did,” Marianne snapped, covering Kari’s ears with her hand. “Since when is it funny for someone to get the flu.”
Willow blinked at Chad. He sighed. “Stomach flu, Willow. It’s just a different way
of saying stomach bug.”
“What’s with you? Chad, I’ve never seen you so insensitive to her.”
“I told her not to eat that lasagna.”
“You said no such—”
Shaking her head, Willow confessed. “But he did. Not with words, but he reminded me, and I ignored him.” Her eyes met Chad’s and he nodded at the question in them. “But I have heard what I’ve got called the flu, so…”
Chad frowned. “The wh—what are you talking about?”
“I think Cheri called it the nine months flu.”
Marianne started to respond but stopped and stared at Chad. Her eyes slid to Willow and back to Chad again. “What’s she talking about?”
“What do you think?”
“Does she know what the ‘nine months’ flu is?”
Chad’s lip twitched. “Yes, Mom. That’s kind of the point.”
“But—” Marianne’s eyes bugged. “You said—the doctor said—”
“Twenty percent, Mom. It’s still a chance. Apparently it’s a stronger one than we thought.” After another moment of silence, Chad added, “Breathe. In. Out…”
“Christopher!” Marianne ran through the dining room and into the living room, calling her husband with each step.
“What?”
“Your son is pregnant again.”
Willow giggled and followed Chad to the living room as she heard Christopher yell from upstairs, “Call the Guinness Book people.”
“Get down here!”
Christopher’s eyes met hers. Pride. Love. Support. She saw everything in the man’s eyes that she’d never experienced with her own father. “I hear congratulations are in order. Gimme a hug.” A lump filled her throat as Christopher squeezed her and then ran his large hands over Kari’s downy head. “She’s going to be a big sister. Doesn’t seem possible.”
“I didn’t think it was.” Willow’s hand slid over her stomach—an involuntary movement that she realized would occur hundreds of times in the next months. “I’m still in a bit of shock.”
“I’ll say, four kids in three years!” Marianne stared at Christopher. “I’ve got an Aggie too!”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 6 Page 19