by Kristy Tate
Luke bounced to his feet. “Let me give Jamie his bath.”
Aidan shot him a dark look. “I’ll do the dishes.” He stood and started gathering the dishes from the table.
“Guys, no. You’re my guests. I don’t want you doing my chores.” She took a deep breath. “But I do want you to go. Please.”
Jamie waved at them goodbye.
#
The next morning, Sophie and Jamison sat beside Liz and Teddy on the front pew of St. Jude’s Church. Pastor Carl Mitchells, Liz’s husband, sat on the stand while Debra Jenks played Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” on the organ. Sophie hadn’t ever attended church regularly, but ever since her sister’s death she’d found comfort and a sense of community in the small stone chapel where her best friend’s husband led the congregation.
She’d first started attending because Liz had told her how hard it was to make Teddy sit through the sermons and how important it was to Carl that she and Teddy be there. So in the beginning, she’d gone to support Liz. She couldn’t pinpoint when that had changed—when, exactly, her Sunday mornings had become more about finding peace and grace than helping her friend shore up her marriage. But she’d come to love and treasure the hour of reflection the service provided.
The calm she generally found in church shattered the moment Luke walked in and took his place beside her on the pew moments before the opening hymn.
He gave her a dazzling smile and took Jamison from her without even asking. Jamison, who was normally hesitant around strangers, sat on Luke’s knee and gazed at him with happy curiosity. The traitor.
Sophie’s lap felt cold without the baby on it and without Jamison, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands.
“Good morning,” Luke said, bumping her with his shoulder.
Sophie didn’t know what to say, but fortunately, Mrs. Lawrence stood to lead the hymn “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”
Luke sang with a loud, clear bass voice she found almost hypnotic. She could barely hear her own squeaky words beside him. He chuckled as soon as the song ended.
“What’s so funny?” she whispered, hoping he wasn’t laughing at her singing.
“That song always reminds me of an episode of The Brady Bunch,” he whispered back.
The Brady Bunch? He hadn’t seemed like a Brady Bunch-watching sort of kid. She would have pegged him as an action hero watcher.
“My sister loved them,” he whispered, answering her unasked question.
“Shh!” Liz whispered good naturedly as her husband took the stand to begin the sermon.
Sophie’s gaze wandered to Teddy who sat beside his mother scribbling in a coloring book. She wondered what sort of child Luke had been. She hadn’t met him until Chloe and Matt had started dating. Back then, when she was a freshman and he a senior, he’d seemed so much older. But once, he must have been a child just like Teddy, and even a baby like Jamison.
Jamison deserved a father.
“Did you know that the Santa in that episode also played Otis, the town drunk, in The Andy Griffith Show?” Luke whispered.
“Did you watch a lot of TV as a kid?” Sophie asked. She didn’t want Jamison to grow up to be one of those kids glued to a TV screen.
“Not so much as a kid,” he whispered back.
Liz reached over Sophie to slap Luke’s knee. “Excuse me, my husband is pontificating!” she whispered.
“Sorry,” Luke mouthed the word and turned his attention to the podium.
Sophie gazed at his strong jaw. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something important. Something she should know. He was Jamison’s only uncle and, at the moment, the only male role model in Jamison’s life. Of course, that would all change if she married. Not that she saw that happening any time soon. She had been picky about who she dated before she gained custody of Jamison, but now that she had him to consider, her pickiness had ratcheted up to a whole new level.
She chastised herself for thinking about marriage when she should be focused on the sermon. She sent Liz an apologetic smile and tried to dial in to Carl’s message.
Unfortunately, Carl spoke in monotones. “Jesus, through Mary, his natural born mother and Joseph, his adoptive father, was of royal blood and would have been king if Israel hadn’t been under Roman rule. Let’s turn to Matthew 1:17 in our Bibles.”
Sophie reached down for her Bible which was in her bag by her feet, but her hand knocked against Luke’s and then she forgot about her scriptures as tingles shot up her arm.
Pheromones.
He didn’t even react to her touch. This bothered her. Why was he sitting so close? She edged away, clutched her Bible, and tried to refocus.
“We read in Isaiah, chapter sixty-one, ‘To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified…”
Interesting. But not nearly as interesting as the man beside her. She wanted to touch him again to see if the tingles were a one-off sort of thing or if his touch had that power over her.
She reached over to take Jamison from him, intentionally brushing her hand against his.
Yep. Tingles.
He leaned over as if to say something, but she shushed him. “I’m listening,” she said, nodding at the podium. But she wasn’t. And then she began to worry that there might be a special level in hell for those who lied in church. On the Sabbath.
#
“I was wondering if I could borrow Jamie this afternoon,” Luke said as soon as the service was over. “It’s my Aunt Lola’s seventieth birthday party and I know she, and a lot of the family who will be there, would love to see him.”
“Oh, of course.” She couldn’t really say no, but the thought of entrusting Jamison to Luke for the afternoon scared her.
“You could come, too,” he said as if he had read her thoughts.
Did that make her feel better? She weighed the options. A lonely afternoon without Jamison or a family party where she’d stick out like a dandelion in a rose garden? “I couldn’t intrude,” she said.
“You wouldn’t be. But I completely understand if you’d like an afternoon off to go shopping or whatever.”
Did she want an afternoon off? She wasn’t even sure what that would look like. The last few months had been so radically different from her life before Jamison. But when she thought about it, she realized that she’d never been great at having fun. She didn’t know how. What was the definition of fun? Acing a test? Winning a case? Scoring a settlement? Righting a wrong? As an attorney, did she feed off contention? It had certainly paid her bills.
“Hello?”
She blinked at Luke. “Sorry… I… I would love to come to your aunt’s birthday.”
He beamed at her. “Great. Why don’t you leave your car here, and I can bring you back later?”
She shook her head. “The car seat is a beast to move. I’ll just follow you.”
Sophie called Liz on her Bluetooth and explained the situation as soon as she got in the car. “I know I’m going to have to leave Jamison at some point, but I’m not ready.”
Liz clucked sympathetically. “Poor you. Someone offering you free babysitting–what a nightmare. Just think what it would have been like if he’d been here six months ago.”
“That would have been totally different.” Sophie’s voice hardened and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “He should have been here! Then we could have honored the will and shared custody. I wouldn’t have had to quit my job.”
Liz’s silence reminded her that quitting had been her own idea. After a long moment, Liz said, “You need to forgive him. If not for his sake, then for yours.”
“You sound like Lauren.”
“No, right now I’m parroting my husband.”
“I really can’t understand why Carl and Lauren don’t get along. They quote from the same textbook.�
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“Don’t change the subject,” Liz said. “We’re not talking about Carl and Lauren. We’re talking about you and Luke.”
“I—huh—gotta go.” Sophie ended the call. She didn’t want to talk about Luke. She wanted to avoid him, but she didn’t know how. Chloe and Matt had loved him and they wanted their son to love him, too. And that couldn’t happen if he didn’t spend time with him. But for that to happen, she had to either let Luke occasionally take Jamison, or she had to accompany Jamison when he was with Luke. Like she was doing now.
Why wasn’t she comfortable leaving Jamison in Luke’s care?
Why was she uncomfortable around Luke?
She didn’t know the answers to either of those questions, but she decided she needed to find out soon or else she’d be forced to spend a lot of time being uncomfortable.
#
Aunt Lola lived in a Victorian house high on a bluff overlooking the gray ocean. A number of cars were already lined up along the street and Luke parked his SUV behind his cousin Tracy’s Escalade. He jumped out, eager to help Sophie with Jamie.
Sophie’s hair whipped around her as she climbed from the car.
“It’s always windy up here,” he told her.
“It’s gorgeous,” she told him, sweeping her gaze over the rolling green hills to the stretch of ocean below.
“You’ll like Aunt Lola. She has a personality that matches her house.”
“Jamison fell asleep on the way here,” she told him, her voice full of an apology. “I should probably take him home so he can get a good nap.”
Luke tried to tamp down his frustration. “He can nap here.”
Sophie hugged herself and tucked her chin into her jacket. “But wasn’t the whole point of bringing him so he could interact with your family?”
“And he can hardly do that if he’s at your house.”
“It’s my sister’s house, and he can’t interact with your family if he’s asleep.”
“Then we’ll wake him up.” He moved toward the car.
She raised her hand, stopping him. “You obviously don’t know how cranky he can be without his nap.”
“And I’ll never know if you don’t allow me to spend time with him.”
She narrowed her eyes, tightened her jaw, and bit back a retort. But then, as if an inner voice had whispered something in her ear, her shoulders sagged. He could almost see her hostility draining away.
“You don’t have to come,” he said.
A dozen conflicting emotions raced across her face before she said, “I’ll come. If he becomes a bear, I’ll take him home.”
“Or we can find him a quiet bedroom where he can lie down for a nap.”
She visibly swallowed. “That could work, too.”
He smiled behind her back, feeling victorious as she opened the door and reached for Jamie. “Here, let me,” he said, brushing past her. He fumbled with the car seat’s clasps.
“Like I said, the car seat is a beast.” She hovered behind him.
“I got it,” he growled, pushing the buttons without any luck.
“Do you want me to do it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Why did she sound so pleased? He clicked the buttons and the straps fell away. He eased Jamie out of his car seat. The baby felt warm and soft in his arms.
“Here.” Sophie tucked a blanket around the still-sleeping Jamie. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?”
“We’re fine.” He strode toward the house.
Sophie trotted beside him in her dress and low-heeled shoes. “It’s just if he wakes up and sees you he might be scared.”
“Because I’m so scary?” he said, his lips quirking. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her or toss her over the cliff.
“Well, yes.”
“Really?”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“He soon will,” Luke said, and even to himself this sounded more like a threat than a promise.
#
Sophie didn’t want to be intimidated by Luke’s aunt’s house, but she was. She had known Matt and Luke were from a wealthy family, but she hadn’t realized… A small gasp escaped her lips when she saw the closest house on the bluff. “Is that…?”
“Yes, Wendy Shorr’s house.”
“The writer. Have you seen her?”
He nodded. “She’s terribly reclusive, but she has nine children who are anything but.”
“Do you know them?”
He smiled. “Yep. You’ll like them. A few of them will probably be here today.”
Sophie’s steps faltered. She didn’t belong here. But this was Jamison’s family. She couldn’t keep him away from them. It wouldn’t be fair to him or them. But what if one day Jamison chose them over her? She shook herself, knowing that he would never have to make such a choice.
But what if he did?
She tripped over a rock. Luke’s hand shot out to grab her elbow and steady her.
“You okay?”
That was a very good question. Heat radiated from his hand and sent tingles up her arm. She pulled away from him. “It’s the shoes,” she told him. Although it really wasn’t. In her law office, she’d worn these shoes all day, every day. Her feet were practically as accustomed to them as they were to her toenails.
Aunt Lola lived in a soft gray clapperboard house with white trim. A few twisted Monterrey pines dotted the property. In the spring, there would probably be a carpet of California poppies covering the lawn. But now, the November sky matched the color of the house and the long stretch of ocean beyond it. Smoke curled from the brick chimney.
“You should see this place at Christmastime,” Luke said. “Uncle Theo strings lights everywhere.”
“Is that Lola’s husband?”
He nodded. “I know what you’re thinking—he’s too old to be climbing up ladders—but…” His words died mid-sentence when the front door flew open and his little sister, Mia, flung herself at Luke before catching sight of Jamison in his arms. She pulled herself to a halt inches in front of him and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. A stunning blonde Sophie didn’t recognize trailed behind. She also kissed Luke on the cheek, but took a longer time to do it than his sister.
“Luke!” Mia whisper-yelled.
“Mia, why aren’t you in school?” Concern wrinkled Luke’s brow.
Mia shot a conspiratorial look at her friend. “We came down for the weekend. Paige drove. You didn’t think I’d miss Aunt Lola’s birthday, did you?”
“Or the chance to see you?” Paige added.
Mia’s gaze flicked over Sophie. “Oh hi, Sophie. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You must have come with Jamie. I wish I was closer so I could help more.”
“We’re doing fine,” Sophie told her.
Mia wrinkled her nose. “But it’ll be better now that Luke’s home.”
Paige gave Sophie a cold, assessing glance. “You must be Chloe’s sister. Funny, you look nothing like her.”
“You met Chloe?”
Paige nodded. “A few times.”
Mia linked her arm through Paige’s and gave her friend a squeeze. “Paige is a long-time friend.” Mia winked at Luke. “She’s practically family.”
They climbed the stairs to the front porch. Luke held open the door for Mia, Paige, and Sophie. A crowd of people filled the living room. Platters of cut-up fruit, vegetables, finger sandwiches, and a giant birthday cake sat on the dining room table. A sparking fire cast a warm glow over the room.
Aunt Lola, whom Sophie dimly remembered meeting at the funeral through her grief-induced haze, sat in a wingback chair beside the fireplace. Dressed head to toe in black, she looked like a gray-headed spider. She held out her arms as soon as she spotted Luke. “Give me that poor orphaned baby.”
Sophie bit back her objection, wanting to say that Jamison was sleeping and would for sure be cranky when he woke, as Luke eased Jamison off his sho
ulder and handed him to Lola.
Jamison woke with a start, caught sight of Lola’s long gray hair and wizened face and let out a howl. He reached his pudgy arms for Sophie. Sophie moved to his rescue but Lola was faster. She snatched the baby and plunked him in her lap.
Jamison squirmed and twisted in an effort to escape.
Sophie moved to scoop him up, but Lola angled away. “I got him. He needs to learn to appreciate who butters his bread.”
Sophie froze. “Butters his bread?”
“Pays for his education,” Lola said.
“His education? He’s six months old.”
“He’ll go to Harmon’s Academy, of course.”
“The private school?” Sophie echoed, shooting Luke a quick glance. She wanted to say, I’m the legal guardian so I should have a say in Jamison’s education and I believe in the public school system, but her legal training had taught her the art of diplomacy and the power of patient persuasion. “There’ll be lot of time to talk about his education.”
“I’ve already put his name down on the Bennet’s waiting list.”
“Bennet’s?” Sophie echoed, feeling sick.
“The preschool we attended,” Luke said in her ear.
“We should have registered him as soon as that chit got herself pregnant.”
Did this awful old woman really just call Chloe a chit? Sophie bristled and all her artistic diplomacy and powerful patience flew out the window. Luke must have sensed this, because he put a cautioning hand on Sophie’s arm.
Again with the tingles. They took her so off-guard, her words died before she could share them.
Jamison howled.
“Here, let me,” Luke said, scooping the baby out of Lola’s lap and returning him to Sophie.
Jamison snugged against Sophie with a muffled sob.
“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you a plate of food?” Luke took her elbow and steered her to a down-filled sofa with an incredible ocean view.
Sophie sank down and leaned back, promising herself that she’d leave as soon as the old bat blew out her birthday candles.
“What should I get for Jamie?” Luke hovered above her.
“He doesn’t eat solids yet.”
Luke blinked as if this were news to him. “Of course,” he said quickly, kindly not mentioning last night’s green beans.