Home to Chicory Lane (9781426796074)

by Raney, Deborah;

  “No, we have to put it all out there.”

  “Okay. But remember, you can nix it, too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well . . . I found this loft in downtown Langhorne that would make a fantastic studio.”

  “Langhorne? I thought Miles said you needed to live here.”

  “He did. And he might not be too happy about me leaving, but he doesn’t own me.”

  “Maybe not, but if you’re not making him any money, he might disown you.”

  He shot her a droll grin. “Then I guess I’ll just have to be sure I’m making him money.”

  “And us.”

  “If I’m making him money, I’m making us money.”

  “I know,” she said quickly, sensing his impatience. “You said we could live a lot cheaper in Langhorne.” What he’d said was that they could live on one income in Langhorne. But she wasn’t sure if he’d meant her one income, or his. She didn’t see any way his art could generate enough income for them to make it. Anywhere.

  “So? Anything on my list that you want to cross out?”

  She thought a minute. “Your number one is the one I’m most tempted to cross off.” She watched him closely, trying—and failing—to read his reaction. “But I’d leave it on there with some caveats.”

  “Like?”

  “Like we’d have to be sure we could afford it.” And that there’d be room for a crib and a stroller. She had to tell him. Her news changed everything, and here she was pretending to herself that any of these choices could work with a baby.

  “I wouldn’t do it unless I was sure.” He shifted on the stool, propping his elbows on the counter. “Okay. Your turn. What’s on your list?”

  She looked at her list and knew she couldn’t read it until after she’d come clean. She slid off the stool. “Are you hungry yet? Can we take a break and go get something to eat?”

  He seemed taken aback, but he hopped off his stool and ran a hand through his hair, combing it back from his face. Looking like the Chase she’d fallen in love with. That seemed so long ago. She felt a shiver of excitement about him being here. About them being together again. Just the two of them.

  * * *

  There was a line at his favorite deli. Chase had offered Landyn his leather jacket while they walked from the apartment. It was cold and she hadn’t dressed warmly enough for the November evening. She’d declined, but she didn’t refuse him now as he unzipped his jacket and pulled her close, wrapping half of the coat around her shivering shoulders.

  The line progressed, and finally they were inside. But Landyn stayed close to him, burrowed in one side of the jacket. Having her so close aroused stirrings in him that were . . . encouraging—and decidedly disconcerting. Especially since he suspected she was feeling the same.

  They ordered and took their food to a corner table. Watching the neighborhood come to life on a Friday night outside the plate glass window, they talked about everything and nothing at all. Just like they had when they were dating. Relishing just being together.

  She took a big bite of the sub sandwich she’d ordered and he reached across the table to wipe a spot of mayo off her upper lip. Their eyes locked and he saw in the tilt of her head, the haze of her expression, that she was feeling the old attraction. Maybe they’d needed to go through this harsh time to truly appreciate what they had together.

  They finished eating in silence and Chase gathered their trash and waited by the door while Landyn used the restroom. Outside the wind had died down and the lights in the storefronts twinkled appealingly. Some of the shops even had their Christmas decorations up already.

  Chase held his jacket out for her again, and this time, she hooked her arm around his waist beneath the coat. He drew the leather close around both of them, smelling its richness, thinking about how well they fit together. And again, how much he desired her. “Do you want to do something tonight? A movie, maybe. Or we could find a bookstore, get some coffee?”

  “Do you mind if we just go home?”

  He didn’t miss that she’d called his place home. And he hoped her thoughts were going the same direction as his. “You still need to read your list to me.”

  “Chase—I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Something else? Besides our lists, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  His steps stuttered as he tried to get a look at her expression, tried to gauge her mood. But with her tucked at his side, all he could see was the top of her curly head. “Okay, I’m all ears . . .”

  “Not till we get home.”

  He was curious, but not overly concerned. Judging by the way she leaned into him, whatever she wanted to talk to him about wasn’t anything to be worried about.

  Back at the apartment, he gently untangled Landyn from his coat so he could unlock the door. He let her in first and followed her inside. But before he could even get the door shut behind them, she turned to look up at him, and in an instant they were in each other’s arms.

  Struggling to restrain himself, aware of how tender she needed him to be, he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her fingers that were now stroking his lips, his face. But she was as hungry as he was, and her mouth found his like a homing beacon.

  “Chase,” she groaned. “We need . . . we need to talk.” She was breathless, the way she’d been on the wedding night they’d both waited for. Waited so long for.

  Her urgency was a gift, and he pulled her closer, shushing her with a palm to her lips. “Shh, whatever it is, it can wait, baby. Come here.” He pulled her to the other side of the darkened room, shedding his jacket as he went. She did the same.

  They moved in a beautiful frenzy—one they already knew by heart, but that somehow felt brand new tonight. He pulled her closer, feeling her heart beat hard against his.

  “I love you, Chase.” The words spilled out as if she’d been holding them in for eons.

  “I love you, too, baby. So much . . .”

  She pushed back his collar and kissed his neck, then tenderly traced one finger along the blue-inked knots in the Celtic star on his collarbone. “We’re gonna be okay.” Her voice rose on the end, making it sound like a question.

  But he answered as if it was truth. “I know . . .”

  He slid his hand to the tiny buttons that closed the front of her shirt, his fingers as clumsy and fumbling as they’d been the very first time.

  With a light in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in so long . . . so very long . . . she touched his face, then tucked her warm hands beneath his and helped him loosen the buttons one by one.

  An hour later, spent and drowsy, they languished in each other’s arms, sprawled across the futon, tangled in the thick quilt—and in each other.

  22

  Landyn awoke to the sun streaming through the window. She opened her eyes and immediately thought about what had happened last night. She felt certain the wave of nausea that followed had little to do with the child in her womb. All her good intentions to withhold the news from Chase until he could choose her apart from a sense of obligation because of the baby had been obliterated—by hormones. Both of them.

  Yes, they were married. Yes, they had a right to enjoy each other in that way. And she loved him. Loved him desperately. But would Chase have wanted to make love to her if he’d known she was pregnant? That she’d kept this huge secret from him?

  She would never know now. And still, she had to tell him.

  She heard the shower running and her husband whistling. Oblivious to the news she would—must—tell him today. This morning. Fear consumed her at the thought. Maybe she could wait. Even tell him she only got pregnant last night.

  The absurdity of the idea almost made her laugh. She could never hope to pull off such a deception—or pretend that an eight-pound baby was four months early. Besides, hadn’t she determined to start being truthful? To quit playing games with her husband?

  If there was one thing her parents had drilled into her, it was the fact that apart fr
om the truth—apart from hard honesty—a marriage couldn’t survive. And she wanted hers to survive.

  She knew that now. Not just because of last night—though making love to Chase had bound her to him in a way she’d never experienced, and certainly not expected last night.

  But she also knew she’d gone far astray of living honestly within her marriage. She had to tell him.

  Chase appeared in the door between the bathroom and the studio wrapped in a towel, his hair damp and spiky. He saw her watching him and smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  She studied him through hooded eyes.

  “Let me start the coffee,” he said, “then I’ll come back to bed for a few minutes and cuddle.”

  She’d often complained that he didn’t cuddle with her enough. Oh, Chase. He was trying so hard.

  He whistled while he made coffee, then slipped under the quilt with her, his skin still warm and damp from the shower. She pushed down the new wave of desire that rolled over her. Tell him. Now.

  “Chase . . .”

  “Hmmm?” He nuzzled her neck, tickling her with a day-old beard. No doubt trying to start something again. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She inhaled, steeling herself. “I—I’m pregnant.”

  He went still, searching her eyes. And he must have read the answer there because he lurched away from her, rising up on his knees on the mattress. He clutched the quilt around his waist. “What did you just say?”

  The horror in his eyes was far worse than what she’d expected. She tried to smile. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  He grabbed his head as if he had a sudden migraine. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I wouldn’t kid you about something like this.”

  “No. Oh, dear God, Landyn. Are you serious? We can’t have a baby right now. No way.”

  She tried to laugh. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “I—I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but probably—almost four months.”

  “You haven’t been to the doctor? Then maybe you’re not really pregnant.”

  She hated the hope she heard in his voice. This was so far from the way she’d wanted this milestone in their marriage to play out. “I am really pregnant, Chase. There’s no question.” She’d had the same thoughts in the beginning. That maybe she wasn’t pregnant, despite the home pregnancy test’s positive results. Going to the doctor would have made it all too real, made it that much worse in Chase’s eyes that she hadn’t told him yet.

  But she hadn’t been able to live in denial for long. There were too many signs now. And from the beginning there’d been something . . . intangible. She just knew. In her heart. She’d even begun to feel flutterings that she suspected were the baby moving inside her.

  Chase nodded, staring at the section of the quilt that hid her belly. “I thought—I thought you seemed—”

  “Fat?”

  “Not that. Just . . . different. Voluptuous.” He actually grinned.

  “Well, I guess that’s good.”

  His grin faded as quickly as it’d come. “It’s not good. The baby, I mean. When did you find out? How long have you known?”

  She didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “How are we going to do this, Landyn? We can barely make it just the two of us.”

  “I don’t know, babe. But we will. Somehow. Everything will be okay.”

  “How can you say that? We can barely pay the rent. How are we going to afford a baby on top of everything else?”

  “I don’t know, but it will work out. God will provide.”

  “That sounds so nice in theory, Landyn. But where exactly has God been providing lately?”

  She hated the bitterness in his voice.

  He eased his legs over the side of the futon frame and groped on the floor for the jeans he’d shed there last night.

  “Every couple struggles.”

  “Not like this they don’t.” He grabbed his wrinkled T-shirt, snapped it right side out, and slipped it over his head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve had to scrape for every dime. We’ve had to borrow from your parents, max out our credit cards—sorry, but I’m starting to wonder . . . Where is the provision in that?”

  “What if we hadn’t had that line of credit, or parents who were willing to help us out occasionally? Why can’t God provide in those ways? Isn’t that legit?” She knew conviction was missing in her voice. She’d wondered too why they’d had to struggle. Why things hadn’t come easier. And yet, she was grateful for the help they’d received.

  He shook his head and raked his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

  She went to him, and put a tentative hand on his back, surprised to be overwhelmed with love for him—a measure of love she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt for him—or for anyone else. “Babe, it’s going to be okay. We—we’ll work it out. We will.” She wished she could make her heart match the conviction she’d managed to pump into her voice, but if hope meant anything, then they were good.

  Chase slid from beneath her touch and went to look out the window. “I can’t even figure out how to make a living for the two of us. How am I going to support a kid? Never mind be a good dad?” He put his forehead against the window pane.

  “Chase, stop it. You know that’s not true.” Landyn hadn’t seen this cynical, unconfident side of Chase for so long, she’d almost forgotten he could be this way. But she did remember that her instinctive reaction—to chide him and shame him—had never been well received. She reached deep to find words that would comfort and lift him out of his . . . despair. It was hard. She didn’t like this Chase very much.

  “I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid. I’m sure no shining example.”

  “Chase, you’ll be a great dad. You will.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  She risked touching him again, laying her palm on his shoulder.

  At least he didn’t flinch.

  “You’ll be a wonderful father, Chase. And—I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt. Doubt what you believe, I mean.” It scared her to see him having this crisis of faith. And it did feel like it was somehow her fault. Maybe that was conviction.

  He turned to face her, pressing his back to the window now. “I don’t know what a dad does—and doesn’t do. I’ve never had an example. Or anyone to tell me—”

  “But you do! You’ve got my dad and Jesse and Pastor Simmons. And lots of other men who I know will give you advice and answer your questions.”

  “From a thousand miles away?” He shook his head.

  “I don’t know how to be a mom either, Chase. I think it’s just one of those hands-on things. You have to jump in before you know how to swim and all that.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve heard your parents talk about what a natural Jesse is. And they’re right. Look how he is with those three little kids.”

  “Yes, but Jesse’s had five years to practice. He probably wasn’t like that right off the bat.” She honestly didn’t remember since Corinne and Jesse’s kids had started coming along right when she left for college.

  “Still . . . Jesse grew up in a good home. And his parents are around to help out even now. To show him how it’s done. Somehow I don’t think your parents are going to be saying that about me. What a good dad I am.”

  “You don’t know that.” But she was afraid he might be right. “Everything will be fine. You’ll—”

  “Landyn.” He shook his head. “Listen to yourself. You say it will be fine, but you couldn’t even tell me. You’re four months pregnant and you couldn’t even get up the courage to tell me.” He hung his head and when he looked back up, what she saw in his eyes frightened her. “Is that why you left? Is that why you wouldn’t follow me here? Is that why you went back to Missouri?”

  “No! Chase, no. Of course not. Is tha
t what you think? No! I didn’t even know for sure I was pregnant until after you’d already moved.”

  He glared at her. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying, Chase. I swear.” How could he think such a thing? Oh, Lord . . . Please. Somehow help me help him.

  23

  The traffic on the street below the apartment seemed louder and smellier than usual and Chase rolled off the futon to shut the window. It would be stuffy in the room again ten minutes from now and he’d just have to get up and open the window again. But what difference did it make? He’d seen every half hour on the clock since he’d gone to bed at midnight.

  Landyn snored softly and curled against him the minute he got back in bed. How could she sleep so peacefully? He wasn’t sure how things could possibly get more uncertain in their lives. Had he heard God wrong? Did he even recognize the voice of the God he’d claimed to follow for the last eight years?

  Yet, even now, when he remembered that day, and Miles’s offer of this studio, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been divinely led. Still, thousands of people followed false prophets and misguided leaders—to the death sometimes. Why did he think he was any less susceptible?

  But he’d prayed. Miles had made the offer, and told him of the urgency of signing for the place before someone else claimed it. He’d informed Miles he needed a few minutes to think it over and discuss it with Landyn. His agent had looked skeptical, but he’d allowed Chase the time he needed. Now Chase wondered if maybe he’d been rushing God. Maybe he should have given Him more time.

  And despite her accusations, he had tried to consult Landyn. But she had been at work, in a meeting. And besides, he’d thought she would be happy for him. That she’d want this opportunity for him. For both of them.

  But he had prayed about it. And the peace that came over him then . . . A person couldn’t just manufacture that of his own will. Could he? All he knew was that it felt right. It felt like an answer to his prayers. And even now, when he examined his motives, he felt no guilt. He only wanted to use the gifts God had given him, and to provide for Landyn—and now, for the child that was on the way. Whether he was ready or not.