Then Comes Baby

by Helen Brenna

  When a knock sounded on the cabin door both Jamis and Snickers jumped. Snickers whined and glanced up at him.

  “Let’s get this over with.” He opened the door and Galen and Toni stood on the porch.

  “We’re leaving now,” Galen said. “We’ll be catching the next ferry.”

  Jamis nodded.

  “We wanted to say goodbye,” Toni said, her eyes watering.

  “And thanks,” Galen added. “For everything you’ve done for us this summer.”

  “This is for you.” Toni held out an envelope with his name scrawled across the front in childish print.

  Jamis nodded and took the card. Still no words.

  Awkward silence filled the next long minute.

  “Well.” Galen held out his hand. “See ya.”

  Jamis shook the young man’s hand and that motion seemed to shake him from his stupor. “Galen, good luck with school.” Good luck in life.

  “Thanks.”

  “Goodbye, Jamis,” Toni whispered, her voice cracking.

  “Bye, Toni. You have a good year at school, too, okay?”

  She nodded.

  Galen turned and reached out for the little girl’s hand. “Come on. We have to go.”

  Toni let her hand get swallowed by Galen’s, but kept her eyes on Jamis as they walked down the porch steps. When their feet reached the ground, Toni stopped. “Wait.” She tugged free, raced back up the steps and launched herself at Jamis. “Goodbye,” she said in a choking voice.

  Jamis knelt down and wrapped her in his arms and did everything he could to keep from falling apart. “You’re going to be all right,” he whispered in her ear.

  She sniffed. “But I’ll miss you. And Mirabelle. And Snickers.” She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. Snickers licked every last salty tear away, and then she spun around and ran to Galen.

  Before Jamis knew it, the kids were climbing onto the golf carts. They’d be gone in minutes. Panic nearly immobilized him, but he had to do this. “Come on, Snick.” He followed the dog’s well-worn path. By the time he reached Natalie’s yard, she was stepping off the porch.

  She stopped when she saw him. When hope filled her eyes, he regretted this decision, but again this wasn’t for him. It was for her. “I came to say goodbye,” he said, setting her straight right away.

  “Don’t. Please.” She shook her head, her eyes bright.

  “It’s for the best.”

  “No, it’s not.” She came to him. “You should be coming with us. You still can.”

  He glanced into her eyes. She loved him. That, he didn’t doubt. But as his gaze slipped to her stomach and he imagined that sweet, innocent little life growing inside her, he knew he had no other option. “You’re better off without me—”

  “I don’t want to hear more of that. It’s not true.”

  “It is, Natalie. You’ll be a wonderful mother. I know it. You’re all that child needs. I’d only mess it up.”

  “You’re wrong. More wrong than you’ve ever been in your life.” She stepped toward him, her face set with determination. “But I want you to know that the love I feel for you isn’t going to change. I’ll still love you in four months, two years, ten years, until the day I die.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “You’re such an asshole.” She shook her head and smiled. Smiled. “When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Well, you’re not me.” Without another word, without a kiss or a touch or a backward glance, she climbed onto a golf cart and left.

  As they drove away, Snickers looked from Jamis to the kids and back again and barked his head off. He wagged his tail, barked some more and made it very clear he was all ready to go with Natalie and her crew.

  “You want to go, then go.” Jamis forced the words from deep in his soul. “Go, Snick, go on. You’d be better off without me, too.”

  Snickers looked after the quickly disappearing golf carts and whined. Then he quietly lay down, rested his head in his paws and sighed.

  Stupid, stupid dog.

  Yeah. And Jamis was such a genius.

  FROM THE FERRY, NATALIE watched Mirabelle’s shoreline grow more and more indistinct. With every cold wave hitting the side of the massive boat, her sense of panic escalated.

  No, no, no. She hugged herself, holding herself together. He’s not leaving you. You’re leaving him. And oddly enough, this time it’s the right thing to do. If—when—if he comes to you, it’ll be what he wants. It’ll be his choice.

  “Choose me, Jamis,” she whispered, closing her eyes and turning her face into the warm, late-summer sun. “Choose me. And our baby.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “THE VICTORIAN IS for sale.”

  On some level, the words Chuck was speaking over the phone registered in Jamis’s brain, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of them. “What did you say?” He sat back from his keyboard. For the past two months, the pages of his latest book had been flying off his fingertips and he was close to the halfway point. He’d refused to stop writing. When he did, thoughts of Natalie flooded his every sense.

  “Natalie Steeger is selling her grandmother’s house.”

  The possibility that she might not come back had never occurred to Jamis. She swore she’d never sell her grandmother’s place. This was what he’d done to her. She was doing this for him. She didn’t want him to move.

  Jamis glanced at the dust-covered envelope Toni had given him just before they’d all left the island. Unopened, he’d set the card on his desk that morning after they’d gone and hadn’t touched it since. He couldn’t bring himself to open it. “Is Natalie buying another place on Mirabelle?”

  “There’s nothing else for sale. Except for your cabin once you decide on the island you want. You did get the realty information I sent, right?”

  “Yeah.” He’d gotten the listings of private islands for sale in both Minnesota and Wisconsin, but he couldn’t seem to make himself look at them.

  “What do you want to do?” Chuck asked.

  “Buy the Victorian,” Jamis said without a moment’s hesitation. “Do whatever it takes. I want that house.”

  “I take it that means you’re not moving.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll be doing, but there is no way I’m letting anyone else get Natalie’s house.”

  He hung up the phone and stared at the page full of words on his computer screen. The horror story he’d been trying to write all summer long had fallen by the wayside within a few days of Natalie’s departure, and he’d started a new book, something different from anything he’d ever written. The entire story had been nearly fully formed in his head. All he had to do was get it down on paper, but just now, that didn’t seem important. He yearned for the sound of children’s laughter out his window, the sight of Natalie, her voice, her touch. Her. Just her.

  Pushing away from his desk, he grabbed his coat and walked with Snickers into town. The fall colors had long since disappeared from the treetops and bare branches swayed in a wind that held the promise of an early snowfall. He walked down the sidewalk and glanced around, needing…something. It was late in the afternoon, almost dinnertime. Main Street was deserted, many of the residents having left for their winter homes. The off-season had once been his favorite time on Mirabelle. Now he couldn’t seem to stand the quiet.

  As he walked by Duffy’s Pub, the sound of laughter and music made him stop and glance through the window. A young woman he’d never seen was serving a nearly crowded bar. Feeling so distant from the world, he sat on the nearest bench, closed his eyes and listened.

  “You look like you could use a beer.”

  He knew that voice. Jamis opened his eyes and found Sally standing in front of him.

  “Come on. It’s two for one. Happy hour.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Sally sat next to him. “So she’s gone, huh?”

&n
bsp; He nodded.

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  He could find no words. He might have been able to type them on his computer, but nothing that made sense was going to come out of his mouth.

  “I’m dying, Jamis,” she said.

  Startled at her being so blunt, he glanced up at her. Her hair was growing back and she looked at if she had energy again. “But you look good—”

  “I stopped the chemo treatments.” She took a deep breath and looked down the street.

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew they weren’t going to work.”

  “You could extend the time you have left. Who knows what could happen in the field of cancer treatments?”

  She shook her head. “I’m old. I’ve done what I’ve wanted to do. It’s my time. I don’t have any regrets.”

  “Postmaster on Mirabelle? That’s it? That’s all you want out of life?”

  “I was born on Mirabelle. Never had any interest in going anyplace else. These people know me. Accept me as I am. It’s not glamorous or exciting, but I’ve been happy.”

  “So you’re just going to quit? It’s over.”

  She nodded. “You should know what that’s like. You’ve done the same thing.”

  He studied her face.

  “At least I have an excuse,” she said. “I’m old. You? You’re a young man, and you’ve already given up.”

  “This isn’t about me—”

  “Oh, yes, it is. I have terminal cancer. Stepping off the merry-go-round is allowed for me. What you’ve done is a travesty. A waste of four years of life. Four years you can never get back.” She tilted her head at him. “So your wife and kids died. So you feel partly responsible. Get over it, Jamis. Get over yourself. You’ve wallowed on Mirabelle long enough. A life without pain is a life without joy.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then start acting like you believe it.” She stood, went to the door to Duffy’s and glanced at him. “It’s time, Jamis, don’t you think?”

  Jamis didn’t know what it was time for, but a beer or two had never hurt anything. Then again. “I can’t leave the dog out here for very long.”

  “Ah, bring him in. Anyone gives you guff, I’ll tell ’em where to go.”

  Jamis stood, held the door for Sally and then followed her inside. Heads glanced up from the bar and the few faces he recognized looked surprised, but no one said a word about Snickers.

  “Sally!”

  “How you feeling?”

  “Good to see you here again.”

  “Ah, quit making a fuss,” she said, sitting next to Doc Welinsky at the bar. “Well, I owe my friend here a drink. Everyone, this is Jamis Quinn. He’s the oddball who’s been living in that log cabin at the other end of the island.”

  Jamis took the open seat on the other side of Sally, next to Garrett Taylor. “Hello, Garrett.”

  “Jamis.” Garrett nodded and proceeded to introduce the residents lining the bar. Jamis had heard most of the names, Setterberg, Henderson, Newman and so forth, but had previously met only a few of them. “And this is my wife.” Garrett’s eyes softened as he indicated the bartender. “Erica.”

  “Hey, Jamis.” Erica reached out and shook his hand. She was noticeably pregnant and the sight of her, the shape of her, made it hard for Jamis to breathe. “This is our nephew, Jason.” She indicated a young boy sitting near the end of the bar drawing pictures with markers.

  “Hi.” Jason glanced up at him and smiled.

  Jamis, unable to find his voice, could only nod in response. He never would’ve believed how much he could miss the sight and sound of children. He cleared his throat and glanced at Erica. “When is your baby due?”

  She locked gazes with Garrett. “February twenty-fourth.”

  “I’m going to have a cousin,” Jason said, grinning.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  The love passing between those two was palpable, and immediately Jamis regretted his decision to come to town. There was so much life in this bar he was nearly choking to death. He was about to push back his chair and hightail it out of there when Sally’s hand came down on his arm.

  “Well, for crying out loud,” she said, tightening her grip and holding him there. “What’s a person have to do to get a drink around here?”

  Erica brought Jamis a mug of beer and Sally a gin and tonic.

  “So where the heck are Arlo and Lynn?” Sally asked.

  “Went to visit their boys for the holidays,” someone said.

  “Then they’re spending a month in Florida.”

  “No kidding?” Sally said, glancing at Doc.

  He shrugged. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell everyone.”

  “You tell them,” Sally said.

  Doc cleared his throat. “Sally and I are both retiring, and then we’re heading to Arizona.”

  “Together?” someone asked on a note of incredulity.

  “Together,” Sally said.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” someone murmured.

  “Good for you two.”

  “Miracles never cease.”

  “What are we gonna do for a doctor?”

  “He’s already here,” Doc said. “That young man who’s been filling in for me here and there has decided to stay.”

  Amidst the sound of questions erupting around the bar, a slow, romantic song played on the jukebox. Sally turned to Jamis. “I’m thinking I’d like to dance.”

  “You asking?”

  She grabbed his hand. “It’s time for you to start living again, Jamis. Don’t you think?”

  He’d been dead so long, he wasn’t sure he remembered how to live.

  “You’ll remember how to dance, Jamis. Put one foot in front of the other. It’s as easy as that.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE WAS GONE. CALEB couldn’t blame her for leaving. Not after what he’d done. “I wish…” He stared into the bitterly cold night sky. “For Susan…to have a happy life.”

  “That’s because you’re a sap.” Jamis’s hands stalled over his keyboard. He took a deep breath and quickly exhaled. “But a nice sap. After what you’ve been through, you might actually deserve her.”

  He heard a sound behind him and turned. “Susan.”

  “There’s only one person,” she whispered, “who can make that wish come true.”

  He didn’t dare hope, didn’t dare dream.

  “You, Caleb. There’s no happy life for me without you.”

  The End.

  There. Done. Another perfect ending even if it was happily ever after. Once upon a time, Jamis wouldn’t have believed he could write such an ending, but now? Now he would’ve given anything to roll the clock backward and write his own ending to this past summer. It certainly wouldn’t have involved Natalie leaving Mirabelle.

  He e-mailed the last chapter of this latest book to his agent, turned off the computer and glanced out the window. Without realizing it, he’d written through the night and finished only a week past his deadline. At least it was done. With an unseasonably cold November wind whipping up the light dusting of snow that had fallen last night, the sun rose over Lake Superior. Through the bare tree branches a brilliant sun dog lit the ice crystals in the air, creating an early winter rainbow of pale oranges and reds.

  Snickers whined and Jamis glanced down at him. “Bored, aren’t you? Well, don’t look at me. You had your chance to escape, dude. You snooze, you lose.”

  The dog swished his tail.

  “All right. Up you go.” Jamis patted his lap and Snickers joyfully jumped up and rested his head on Jamis’s chest.

  Absently, Jamis rubbed the dog’s ears and patted his head. It was Thanksgiving weekend. Almost three miserable months had passed with excruciating slowness. There’d been no children’s laughter and no outside sounds of running feet. In all that time, Jamis had never once turned on the TV. All he’d done day and night was write. He had nothing
to say to anyone, and no one had anything to say that he wanted to hear. Except for that day he’d gone into town and Sally had convinced him to go into Duffy’s.

  He frowned, remembering the obituary he’d read in the town flyer in his mail the other day. Sally had died, less than a week ago while in Arizona with Doc. He couldn’t believe she was gone. Just like that. The way four and a half years had slipped away from him. Some of the last words she’d ever spoken to him thrummed through his memory. Put one foot in front of the other. It was time.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine,” he whispered suddenly. “I wish things had been different. I wish you, Caitlin and Justin were alive. I wish I could’ve seen my children grow.” He paused. None of those wishes were going to come true. “I wish there was peace on earth. I wish for food on every table. I wish…I wish she was here.” None of those things was going to happen, either. He could wish and wish and wish, day and night, night and day, and none of them would come to fruition.

  Snickers hopped to the floor and lay down at the top of the stairs.

  Could we change the course of other people’s lives? Yes. No doubt. By things we do or don’t do. Natalie had proven that to him. Every one of those kids that had stayed with her for the summer had gone back with a vision of a better life. But she couldn’t have made those changes by simply wishing for them. His wish, as fervent as it had been, hadn’t killed his family. The semitrailer truck had killed them. And he could finally accept that.

  So what was he still doing on Mirabelle?

  Apparently, Natalie had called it. He was frightened. Scared to immobility of losing what he loved. And he loved Natalie. But how could he—Jamis Quinn, odd man extraordinaire—have done something as stupid and naive and honest as fallen in love?

  Since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her on moving-in day all those months ago, he supposed, these emotions had been struggling to take root inside him. From her terrible cookies to her bright smile, once she’d made a crack in his veneer he hadn’t a chance of fighting her. His feelings for her had taken off like a weed, nearly choking him.