For No Reason
a novel
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Christina Coryell
Books by Christina Coryell:
The Camdyn Series
A Reason to Run
A Reason to Be Alone
A Reason to Forget
For No Reason
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorChristinaCoryell
Twitter: @c_tinacoryell
www.christinacoryell.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. To contact the publisher, submit a request at www.christinacoryell.com.
Text copyright © 2015 by Christina Coryell
Cover image copyright © 2015 by Nichole Smith Photography
Back cover image copyright © 2014
by Kassi Hillhouse Photography
For No Reason
To Cindy,
for secrets kept…
Could it really only take three minutes to determine the forward trajectory of my life? I mean, the box said three minutes, but that feels like much too small a time frame to figure out whether I’m prepared for this change in my circumstance. Not that the test can determine whether or not my preparation is complete or incomplete, or even mildly promising…
Still, such a monumental life-changing acknowledgement should take more than three minutes, shouldn’t it? Perhaps I’m a little jittery and anxiety-ridden over this whole ordeal, but at the moment I could almost imagine myself indignant over the prospect. After all, it took me a really long time to get to this point in my life, where I’m even looking at this possibility and thinking it could be a good thing. There should be a little more fanfare involved with the reveal process, and it should definitely take more than a measly three minutes.
Somehow, though, those slight three minutes are looming over me pretty large at the moment, and I can’t just sit here and stare at this stick. I can certainly think of something better to do, can’t I? After all, I’m a very busy woman. Besides, a watched pot never boils.
Maybe I should find a way to apply that to my current situation? Let’s see…a watched stick never…
And yet I’m still sitting here on the edge of the bathtub staring at this stick.
Enough, I’m leaving the room.
Honestly, I had imagined that watching the stick would amount to something more than watching the color of urine creep up into that magical little circular cavern where the lines would or would not appear.
Okay, leaving the room.
So why did I shut the door? Maybe the stick is going to catch me peeking? It won’t do its job as long as I’m watching?
Laundry. There’s always laundry. I can sort the laundry.
What if it’s positive? I can’t imagine someone calling me Mom. But I am ready to be a mom, right? I mean, in some cultures I could practically be a grandmother by now. The kids would be coming to my house wanting some fresh baked cookies.
Except I can’t bake, so there would be no cookies.
Who am I kidding? Those grandkids wouldn’t want to be at my house. I am going to be such a terrible parent!
Won’t I look funny pregnant, though? I can see myself now, one of those women who look like they have swallowed a basketball.
What if I get cravings in the middle of the night and I keep eating, and eating… I could gain a hundred pounds! How would I ever get that weight off? I would have to get one of those special strollers so I could jog around with the baby. That stroller probably wouldn’t work on our wooded trails, though, so I’d have to find somewhere else to run. Putting that stroller in the back of my car is going to be a giant pain.
Hasn’t it been three minutes by now, anyway? 10:43. Well, that would only have been helpful if I had checked to see what time it was when I started. No problem – I’ll just backtrack and think about how long it has taken to do whatever it is I’ve done. So the last thing I did was…
I vaguely remember thinking something about the laundry, but I didn’t actually follow through.
How long does it take to stand in my bedroom and have a conversation with myself like an insane person? Does that take three minutes?
Now I’m stalling. What is there to be afraid of?
What if it’s negative? Would that be the end of the world? It doesn’t matter either way, right? At least, it didn’t seem to before.
That’s it – I’m going in. I’ll just open the door and take a quick peek, and then it’s over.
I’m going in.
Okay, this time I’m really going in.
And it’s…partly positive? One of the lines is lighter than the other.
What if I didn’t wait long enough? Maybe it’s only been two minutes. Now I’ll never know for sure.
Water. I need to drink lots of water.
Where did I put the other tests?
Chapter One
“So, guess what? I’m pregnant.”
“Cole, you’re going to be a dad.”
“Hey, how was work? Me? Oh, just sitting around all pregnant and stuff.”
You’re an idiot, Camdyn. Pregnant and stuff. Sheesh.
Anticipation coursed through my veins as I prepared to make my husband the happiest man in the world. As normal rules of celebration would dictate, an announcement such as the one I was delivering needed to involve some monumental preparation.
Since I was obviously having a difficult time with the delivery of said news, I made dinner for the first time in my adult life. Not a sandwich or a frozen pizza or anything that I warmed up for dinner – no, I made an actual meal and spread it on the table. It was an ordeal, and the planning had taken hours, but it was worth it.
Staring across at that array of food, I took in the pot roast, carrots, potatoes, and homemade rolls. (Yes, they were frozen rolls, but the bag was marked “homemade,” so I’m pretty sure that counted.) I even broke our unspoken rule about not lighting any fires in the house by putting two candles on the table to create the appropriate ambiance.
Is there an appropriate ambiance for such a thing, anyway? How do you tell a man he’s going to be a father?
It really wasn’t a situation that I had given much thought, and it never occurred to me until a couple of hours before that I would be having that conversation soon. On such short notice, the only clever scenario I could scrounge out of my brain was a romantic dinner with a surprise somewhere along the way. Not that dinner in itself wouldn’t be a surprise, since I was about as inept as they came in the culinary department.
As for the real purpose of the dinner, I still hadn’t decided how to bring up the whole baby issue. Perhaps casually mentioning the topic of children was the best way, or maybe subtle hinting was a more appropriate route.
Oh, who am I kidding? This is one of the most important things that will ever happen in a person’s life. How can you be blasé about something that is going to alter your entire future?
I momentarily wondered how Cole would react to the news.
I can almost see him now, folding me in his arms, a tear rolling down his cheek as he tells me he has dreamed of this moment his whole life. He says I will be the most wonderful mother a child could ever have, and I tell him that he will be our baby’s hero. It is, indeed, a moment of sheer bliss, interruptib
le only by the horrible odor wafting through the room.
Wait, horrible odor?
“Camdyn, you set the house on fire,” Cole will say.
Well, not the house exactly, but the oven mitt was currently a ball of flames on top of the stove. Rushing over, I picked up a set of tongs and hastily pinched the fabric, dropping it in the sink and quickly rotating the knob for the faucet. A smelly, steamy mist rose from beneath my face, and I twisted my mouth to the side to blow a stray curl away from my eyes.
How does an oven mitt catch on fire, anyway? Isn’t the purpose of an oven mitt to hold really hot things? They are meant to go in the oven, after all. Imagine thrusting your arm into the heat to remove the pot roast and – bam – open flames! That could cause third degree burns!
It had been a great oven mitt, too, and it perfectly matched the kitchen décor - it really was a shame that we had to lose it. The poor thing looked pretty pathetic at that moment, sitting in water in the sink, covered in black marks and with a gaping hole on one side.
I suspect it was for the best in the long run, though. The impracticality of a highly flammable oven mitt really couldn’t be argued.
I could almost hear Cole’s voice ringing through my mind as clearly as though he were standing in the room. I don’t know what you expect to happen when you place an oven mitt on the hot stovetop. Oh, and I always suspected you would someday burn the house down.
Well, it wasn’t as though I actually placed the oven mitt there, per se, and it was over anyway, so there was no need to worry about it anymore. Proceeding with a sense of purpose, I lifted the mitt carefully out of the sink and deposited it in the nearby trash can, careful not to touch myself with the charred mess. Hastily wiping up the water that had dripped on the floor, I returned to my post near the table as I awaited my husband.
Whatever hesitation I might have felt about becoming a parent, my uncertainty had absolutely nothing to do with Cole. Without question, he would be a good father; he was practically designed for it. Then again, he was also destined to be a great husband, great friend, great…
Well, perhaps I was slightly biased.
The sight of that familiar blue truck rolling up the driveway sent a shiver down my spine and sent my stomach into flutters as I fought to control my nerves. There was no reason for me to be feeling this way, other than the fact that I was excited about giving Cole news that would change his life forever. I watched that handsome dark-haired man walk across the yard and up the front porch steps, catching a glimpse of me inside the window and offering one of his fabulous smiles.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he stated breezily as he stepped through the door, his face quickly turning into a bit of a scowl. “What’s that smell?”
Um, don’t you mean heavenly aroma?
“I made pot roast,” I answered simply.
“No, there’s another smell.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered. It was just a little white lie – I didn’t want to start the night off on the wrong foot, after all.
“Okay, well, I’m just going to take a quick shower,” he informed me, heading across the room and toward the stairs, already thwarting my plans.
“But, I…” He paused in the doorway as I wrapped my arms across my chest. “Ugh.”
“I think somebody missed me today,” he said with a laugh, pinning me to that spot with those chocolate-brown eyes. “Don’t worry – I’ll just be a minute, and then you will have my undivided attention.”
It was impossible not to return his smile. Even if I had been able to resist his teasing grin, the thought that I would soon have his undivided attention was enough to satisfy me for the moment. Besides, when he came back from his shower, his hair would be slightly wet and disheveled, and he would smell like that fantastic body wash he had a habit of using.
Lowering myself to a sitting position at the table, I thought about what he would say when I told him about the baby.
Cole, you’re going to be a father.
Camdyn, I’ve known from the moment I met you that you would have the most beautiful children in the world. I feel like the luckiest man alive to be able to share this experience with you.
Okay, to be perfectly honest, I had no expectation of the conversation going that way, but I did think he would probably be absolutely terrific about the pregnancy. In fact, I anticipated him insisting on doing the dishes after dinner. He might not let me lift a finger for the duration of those nine months. No more laundry, no more cleaning, no more cooking… Well, no more cooking wasn’t exactly a change, since I really didn’t do that anyway.
“Did you have a good day?” I heard behind me, and I stood as I watched him walk through the doorway, damp hair glistening as he stretched his t-shirt over his head. As soon as he could see me over that t-shirt, I made a point of shaking my head at his obvious attempt to show off. For some reason, he could never seem to get his shirt on his body until he was fully in my line of sight and was certain I had glimpsed his abdominal muscles. It was shameless, really, but since I wasn’t really one for complaining…
“Oh, you know, it was just another day,” I answered, tilting my head in anticipation of the lingering kiss he planted on my lips.
“So, what’s the occasion?” he wanted to know as he plopped himself before his place setting, grabbing a roll and forking some roast onto his plate.
“No occasion, just trying something new. Would you like something to drink?” He spooned some potatoes and carrots onto his plate, stabbing one of the little orange rounds and popping it into his mouth. He looked up at the ceiling as he chewed, but did not make any unfortunate faces, so it appeared to be safe.
“Tea sounds good,” he told me with a smile, and I walked toward the refrigerator, stealing a glance over my shoulder. He tasted everything on the plate cautiously, and then began eating at a normal pace while I poured the tea in his glass. As I set the drink in front of him, he merely focused his eyes at me as I sat down and continued to eat.
How am I going to bring this up?
By the way, Cole, you’re going to be a dad.
Oh, hey, did I mention I’m pregnant?
So, turns out I’ve got a bun in the oven.
“What are you doing?” he questioned me, giving me a perfect example of those one-eyebrow raises he was fond of producing.
“Nothing,” I muttered, shoving my fork into the roast on my plate. Fighting the urge to bite my lip, I pulled the fork up and placed it in my mouth, casually beginning to chew on my food. And chew, and chew, and chew. After a couple more minutes of trying to masticate that piece of meat, all the while watching Cole eat it like it was just a normal meal, I couldn’t take any more.
“Yuck,” I complained. “This is the worst roast in the history of food. I’ve never tasted anything so dry in all my life. And look at you, forking it into your mouth like it’s the best thing ever. Either you had a freak accident today and you lost your taste buds, or you must really love me.”
“Aww, babe” he whispered, a smile playing about his lips, “you know I really love you.”
“Yes, you don’t have to say it,” I reiterated. “Stop eating the roast. Just throw it out. What kind of a wife am I, anyway? I can’t even make a simple dinner.”
“You’re a fantastic wife,” he assured me. “Cooking isn’t that big a deal, really.”
“Yes, it is, Cole,” I argued. “It really is.”
“The rolls are good.”
“Well, they should be. They came out of the freezer, and were probably made in a professional bakery somewhere.”
“And the roast isn’t all that bad,” he continued, but he was unable to utter the words without that guilty look creeping across his face.
“Yes, it is. I’ll never learn to cook.”
“Okay, it honestly is pretty bad, but nothing to be upset over. Besides, you don’t need to get in a hurry about it – you’ll catch on eventually.” He placed his hand over mine on the table,
and I let out a sigh.
“But I don’t have time,” I countered. “I’ll be the only mom in town who can’t feed her own kid.”
“That seems like something you can worry about when the time comes,” he suggested, giving me a reassuring smile.
“Yes, it does,” I agreed, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I’m worried about it now.”
He shoved his chair back from the table and leaned his elbow closer to me, focusing his eyes on mine as he gripped my hand tighter.
“What are you saying?”
This is awkward – I should have just given him the stick. But I peed on it, and we’re at the dinner table…gross.
“Just, um…now is the time to worry about it.”
“Camdyn, are you…?” Unable to answer, I simply nodded. With a loud laugh he hauled me up out of my chair, lifting me into the air as he hugged me and spun me around. I giggled as he set me down gingerly, suddenly worried about the force he was exerting, and placed his hand protectively on my abdomen.
“We’re going to have a baby, you and me,” he stated, sounding a bit shocked. “You’re going to… Cam, I’m ecstatic, seriously. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“No, I mean – are you happy?” His eyes implored me to join in his excitement, and I really was pleased, even though I was equal parts terrified.
“Of course I’m happy.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I stared up into his eyes. “Besides, it makes me feel much better about the other day.”
“The other day?” he attempted to clarify.
“You know, when I vomited on live television,” I added. “It turns out there was a good reason.”
“Huh, I never would have guessed,” he admitted with a laugh. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Mr. Parker, do you have doubts about whether I can take care of a baby?” My attempt at looking serious must have gone awry, because he simply smiled and pushed a stray hair behind my ear.
For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4) Page 1