Precedent for Passion

by Amber Cross

  “I think that’s pretty obvious, given the situation.”

  “Not like that. I mean, would you want her if there was no child?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation there.

  “So you’re crazy about a woman who is crazy about you, and she just happens to be carrying your baby.”

  “Unplanned baby.”

  “Irrelevant.”

  Was it really that simple? Didn’t he already know the answer without his best friend pointing it out to him? He missed her every day. Missed their phone calls, missed their chess games, missed everything about her. So the real question was, what was he going to do about it?

  He couldn’t just call her and say, “Sorry, my bad.” Not only would that insult her intelligence, but she probably wouldn’t believe him.

  Sending the video was a start. Enlisting the help of friends and family was next. He had everyone watching out for her, even though she didn’t know it, until he could be there himself. In the meantime, he worked like a madman to get his life in order.

  The judge ruled in his favor, but the kids would have to go with their mother from mid-July to the end of August this year, then every summer until they came of age. Thanksgiving and Christmas would alternate as they always had. February vacation was with her, April vacation with him. It was as ideal as shared custody could get.

  Every two or three days he flew to Sherbrooke to get the Quebec office up and running. When he was in New York, he worked late into the night on the same, training his nephew Trevor in all aspects of his job. At the end of June the new office went live and he was either on site overseeing operations or at the Toronto Exchange.

  He hated being away, but he was doing it for Abby, for their future. She deserved to have his undivided attention when he came to her. She also deserved a phone call.

  He tried to reach her on Friday night but got no answer. Despite her previous habits, she might already be asleep. On Saturday night he called earlier with the same result. Was she ignoring his call? While she could be forgiven for that after what he’d put her through, it wasn’t like Abby to back down from a fight, so he tried again on Sunday. When her sweet voice came on the line, he sank onto the bed in his hotel room, momentarily speechless with longing.

  ****

  “Carol of the Bells” playing through her condo woke Abby the morning after the conference. She went to the door but the foyer was empty. About to go back inside, she noticed a brown paper bag at her feet. Her name was printed in bold block letters on the folded top. When she lifted it, the scent of freshly baked yeast and cinnamon wafted from the contents, stimulating her appetite as nothing had since her pregnancy began. She couldn’t close the door fast enough. At her kitchen table she wolfed down the large cinnamon bun, licked the sticky sweet residue from her fingers, and gave a happy sigh, feeling half human for the first time in months.

  When a second one showed up on Wednesday morning, she took her time. Pulled the roll apart and ate sections of the dough to make the experience last. On Thursday she filled a glass with milk and added a plate of mango to make a whole meal of it.

  Yet another surprise was waiting for her when she returned home from her swim that evening. Jason and Sara sat beneath the shade of a maple tree separating her parking spot from the river below. Their bikes were propped against the trunk, helmets dangling from the handlebars. Abby wasn’t unhappy to see them, but she did wish a little resentfully that Sara looked a little more pregnant. The younger woman carried her baby like a basketball was stuffed under her shirt, while she had to slide her seat back as far as it would go to climb out from behind the steering wheel.

  Jason hurried over to give her a hand, then offered one to Sara as she got to her feet. For the first time Abby saw the grocery bag the other woman held. “We’re here to make supper.”

  Surprised, the only thing she could think to say was, “My kitchen’s a mess.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  Upstairs in her condo she hurriedly cleared enough counter space for them to unpack the contents of the bag and prepare the meal. She hadn’t been kidding about her housekeeping. The place was messy even for her. Not dirty, just cluttered.

  “I know you love fish, but the smell of it makes Sara nauseous,” Jason said, “so we brought steak.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Just keep us company.”

  She missed Glen every day, all day long, but she hadn’t realized how much she missed simple conversation with others until tonight. It was also a pleasure to watch the two of them work, touching every time they came close. Abby couldn’t even be jealous of this perfect harmony when she knew how long Jason had waited for Sara to come into his life. Especially not when they served thin broiled steak covered in tomato kiwi salsa and angel hair pasta tossed with olive oil, fresh parmesan cheese, and small cuts of asparagus.

  “Oh my gosh,” she groaned after the first few mouthfuls. “Do you two cater?”

  ****

  By the weekend she wondered if there wasn’t a secret campaign to keep her from being alone. David and Romney showed up at her office on Friday afternoon and announced they were going upstairs to clean her condo. She balked briefly, because there was an order to her piles and she hated people straightening them out for her, but they were relentless so she finally gave in.

  When she went upstairs after work, the place was spotless. Romney sprawled across her sofa in that carefree, boneless way of his as if he hadn’t spent the last two hours toiling.

  “Where’s David?” she asked.

  “Gone back to The Gables to get ready for dinner service.” Rolling to an upright position, he said, “By the way, you’re invited to a baby shower there next Saturday.”

  “I am?”

  “Jason asked David to pass the invitation along, so I’m the third hand messenger.”

  “It’s for Sara, then?”

  “Yep. One o’clock sharp. Big brother asked her to play piano for a special function to get her there. He’s letting them use the back dining room for it.”

  She was trying to decide if she should go or find a way to politely decline when he leveled his coffee-colored eyes on her and sternly said, “Don’t even think about it. He was your friend before Glen came along.”

  She shrugged an acknowledgment. “He’s still my friend.” Remembering the scrumptious meal two nights before, she added, “They both are.”

  “So why don’t you get ready for the pool? I brought my swim trunks to join you. Then we can drive down to St. Johnsbury and look for a shower gift.”

  They were in the Green Mountain Mall when her phone rang. Though there were few shoppers, she moved out of the traffic lane and leaned against the wall beside the Northeast Kingdom Chamber of Commerce office to see who it was. The overhead lights glared against the screen, making it difficult to read the number, but the identity was clear: wireless caller.

  She had another call the following evening while in the middle of researching how a precedent setting case had been applied. She ignored this one, too. Her phone number was on every do-not-call list, but now and then some telemarketing company would slip through.

  When wireless caller showed up again on Sunday night, she answered the phone. It was after nine, so she was safe from aggressive salespeople. Someone probably had the wrong number. She was sure of it when she answered and silence was her only reply.

  Was it the creeper? A chill snaked down her spine, quickly chased away by anger. She refused to let some dirtbag intimidate her. “Look, I don’t know who this is—”

  “Hi, Abby.”

  That deep voice, so familiar, robbed her of speech. Silence stretched between them. The empty space inside her, created by his rejection, throbbed with pain as hope rose like a volcano, and she tried to tamp it down out of self-preservation. Tears filled her eyes and splashed onto the paperwork spread across her knees. Legal speak turned into ink blots.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She swallowed. How c
ould her mouth suddenly be so dry? “Fine.” A croak. A lie.

  “Really?”

  No. I’m not me without you. I need you. “Yes. Just tired.”

  His voice dropped an octave. “I’ve worried about you.” The lower register and his words rippled through her veins like Bahamian sunshine, and she melted into a puddle on the inside.

  He wasn’t apologizing for not getting in touch before. She wouldn’t apologize for being pregnant.

  “Is this really why you called?” she finally whispered, needing to know if this was about them, or if it was only about the situation. “To see how the pregnant lady is faring?”

  “I do care about the baby.” He sighed, and she could picture him closing his beautiful blue eyes, dark curls falling across his brow as he bent his head with worry. She wanted to smooth that hair back and soothe him with her touch. How pathetic.

  “I do care,” he repeated. “In spite of how I reacted, this is my child, too.”

  She couldn’t muster up a sarcastic reply because she believed him. What now, though?

  “I’ll be in Somerset haying with Roger on the Fourth of July. Will you be around that weekend?”

  A week from now. Her insides went hollow and the hairs on her arms stood up. Nervous anticipation reduced her answer to a single syllable. “Yes.”

  “Let’s talk then. Face to face.”

  “Okay.”

  She finally had the man on the phone, willing to discuss their future, and she couldn’t even form a sentence.

  “Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “I do care about the baby.”

  She really never doubted that he would. Not once he got over his initial anger. “I know.”

  “But it’s you I’ve been worried about. Always you.”

  ****

  Glen was in the middle of a video conference call between the Toronto Exchange, Montreal Exchange, and Sherbrooke office Monday afternoon when his daughter called. He knew it wasn’t an emergency or she would text their code; two days, nine hours less six minutes from the time at home. He had shared it with the kids before leaving for his first trip to Canada.

  “How’d you come up with that?” Colin asked.

  “It’s Abby’s code. Our code.”

  “You’re a lost cause.” The comment was really a lament.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Darcy enthused. “Soooo romantic. And sweet.”

  “You’re sweet,” he said. His daughter was turning into a sensitive young woman with a generous nature, and he was proud of her. But when he finally returned her call that evening, she was a panicked child again.

  “Oh my God, Dad, I blew it! I’m so sorry.”

  “Slow down. I’m sure it isn’t the end of the world.”

  “But that’s just it! I went to see Abby today, and I really screwed up.”

  Sitting up straight now, then standing because he couldn’t sit, he paced the few feet between his bed and the hotel room door, wondering what catastrophe had taken place.

  “Dad?”

  Darcy’s small, scared voice begged for reassurance.

  “It’s okay. I’m sure that whatever you did it can’t be that bad.” He wasn’t sure of any such thing.

  “But I told her about the cinnamon buns!”

  Was that all? Relief made him sag against the door. “Why don’t you take a deep breath, slow down, and tell me what happened.”

  She inhaled so forcefully he could hear it over the line, and her story came out on a rush of exhaled air. “I went to Abby’s office to take her a cinnamon tea. It was late, because Linda got a rush at the diner this morning, and someone called in sick, and she couldn’t send anybody over with the cinnamon bun today. So I said I’d go, and she told me to get a cinnamon tea from The Common Store since you said Abby likes them, and since it was really too late for breakfast anyway. Well, anyway, I was just supposed to give her the tea and maybe say hi, but I blurted the whole thing out when she said it was thoughtful of me to stop by and bring her a drink. I told her about Aunt Linda being busy, and about how you asked her to deliver a cinnamon bun to her each morning until you could do it yourself and…” Darcy’s voice petered out as she ran out of air. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to tell her.”

  It was such a forlorn apology he had to forgive her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “But I know you wanted it to be a secret. Colin’s right. I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

  Leave it to her brother to say that. “Don’t worry about it. The secret isn’t as important as Abby being taken care of. I’m sure you were just excited to see her.”

  “Oh. My. God. I forgot the best part!”

  He laughed again. Darcy’s enthusiasm was hard to resist. Ever since she was a little girl, her stories were rushed and full of emotion. She said she only had two days a week to tell him seven days’ worth of news.

  “So what was the best part?”

  “Abby loves the cinnamon buns, by the way.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No, of course not. I just didn’t want to forget. She said they’re the best ones she’s ever tasted, and she eats breakfast now that she gets them, because before she didn’t feel like eating in the morning, you know, because of the baby and everything, and ohmigod, I did it again! The baby!”

  A twinge of unease settled between his shoulders. Darcy sounded happy, but was something wrong with the baby? “Tell me,” he said in his sternest voice, hoping it would make her focus.

  “The baby kicked! It was so exciting. Abby got up to give me a hug, you know, because I was leaving, and when she stood up from her chair, she grabbed her belly. I thought something was wrong, but she said no, she didn’t know what it was. Then she said she thought the baby might be kicking. She didn’t know because she hadn’t felt it before, just some weird rumbly kind of feelings, but she put her hand on her side, and it kicked!”

  Glen closed his eyes against gathering moisture.

  “And she let me feel it. Dad, it was so exciting! Have you felt a baby kick before? Of course you have. Anyway, I never have, and it was grrreaaat! I can’t believe I’m going to have a little brother or sister this fall. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  He didn’t have any words for that. The next words came from Darcy, subdued at last now that her story was over. “Dad? You’re going to get back together with her, aren’t you?”

  There was absolute conviction in his reply. “You bet I am.”

  ****

  Abby left early for the shower on Saturday so she would have time to check out David’s latest project. He planned to build cabins inside the tree line, sloping down toward the lake for summer rentals and possibly staff housing, and he wanted her thoughts on them.

  Hume was meeting her there. They always spent the holiday weekend together, no matter where she lived, but he needed more space than her condo provided. Like her, he spread his papers and work paraphernalia from corner to corner. Since he was a city planning engineer, David would get some free advice in exchange for his lodgings at The Gables.

  So she heaved herself into the SUV, her belly hitting the steering wheel despite the seat being pushed back as far as it could go. In the last month, she had ballooned to twice her previous size. While Sara didn’t even look pregnant from behind, her pregnancy was obvious from every angle. Just this week the garage had installed an extension to her gas pedal so she could drive with her seat farther back, but it wasn’t comfortable. Every time she went out, she worried about air bags deploying and killing her on the spot. A real concern for someone her height.

  What if something happened to her but only her? Justin and Grace would have no mother. That’s what she had named them in her will. In case it was necessary. Justin Douglas Wilson because Glen said once that every first son in the Plankey family had the middle name Douglas, only his ex-wife deprived him of that right with Colin. Justin was chosen because she loved justice and the law. He might not bear his rightf
ul surname, but she would not deny him his heritage. Mutia Grace, or Grace as she would be called, took her names from Abby’s grandmothers. Would Glen approve of those names? He said he cared, but did it extend to decisions like that?

  These thoughts ran round and round in her mind, making her so crazy that she finally turned the radio on full blast. Anything to preoccupy her so she wouldn’t worry about every driver she met being dangerously distracted by text messages. It helped some, but she didn’t take a good deep breath until her SUV was parked in front of the building beside what she assumed were patron’s vehicles.

  Business must be good. Leave it to David to make a success of a remote country inn and restaurant.

  Entering the lobby and seeing no one around, she called out, “Honey, I’m home!” only to feel a sharp sense of loss when the greeting echoed through the spacious room, bounced off the walls, and returned to her. It reminded her of last fall when she brought Glen here for Chinese food.

  “Told you she was almost as wide as she is tall,” Romney said, appearing head and shoulders above the batwing doors to her left.

  Abby stuck her tongue out at the gorgeous brat.

  “Leave her alone,” David scolded. He pushed one door open and waved Abby through to the kitchen. “She looks more beautiful every day. Doesn’t she?”

  “Don’t ask me.” Hume shrugged from where he sat at the long table by the windows. His flyaway hair flopped out in every direction as he pushed thick glasses up on his freckled nose. “She just looks like Abby to me.”

  She couldn’t possibly love these three more.

  ****

  Glen arrived fifteen minutes after the shower began. He knew what time it was because Jason had told him. Linda had told him. Darcy had told him. Hell, some of them might even be there, which made what he had planned even more terrifying.

  He leaned against the roof of his car and took a big gulp of humidity. The summer sun beat down on his head, perspiration rolled down his back, and bees hummed in the flowerbeds, only adding to the ringing in his ears. When he pushed away from the vehicle and made his way to The Gables front entrance, his legs shook.

  He didn’t knock on the front door. It was an inn, after all, so even if he observed that formality, it was unlikely anyone would hear him.