by Elks, Carrie
“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “I was just making conversation.”
He ran his hand through his hair, then placed it back on the wheel, accelerating as the light turned green. “I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted. Ask me again.”
“I was only asking what kind of parents they were. Were they strict? Laid back? Did they used to ground you a lot?”
“It’s hard to remember.” The ghost of a smile played at his lips. “I guess they were somewhere in between. They let me do what I wanted unless I hurt myself or somebody else. And they were fanatical about me making good grades. I can remember being grounded homecoming weekend because I’d got a ‘D’ on an English paper.” Furrows crisscrossed his brow. “But even when they punished me I knew it was coming from a place of love. Because they wanted the best for me.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “How about you?”
“Me?”
“You’ve said your grandma had a lot of expectations. Was she strict about those?”
Harper swallowed. “Um, yeah, pretty strict. I went to an all-girls prep school, and I wasn’t allowed to have boyfriends or wear makeup. The only time I really talked to boys was when we were visiting her friends who had children or grandchildren my age. So when I went to college I went pretty crazy.”
His smile widened, and it warmed her. “I think a lot of people go crazy when they go to college.”
“Oh yeah? Were you the med school stud?”
He laughed. “Not really. I had a few relationships and then I met Sara. After that we were a couple until she died.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eleven years.”
“Oh.” Her heart ached for him. She wanted to reach out, comfort him, do something to make it all better.
Instead, here she was causing more complications than he ever knew possible.
“Did you tell your grandma or your mom about the baby yet?” he asked.
“Nope. I’m still waiting for the right time.”
“When will that be?” They’d reached the condos. He pulled into a visitor’s parking space and cut the engine.
“I’m thinking when this kid reaches twenty-one.” She rubbed her stomach.
He turned to look at her, tipping his head to the side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“When you put it like that, nothing. They can’t do anything that’s going to stop this baby from coming. And my grandma’s long since given up trying to make me come home.” She let out a sigh. “But it’s not just physical things that can hurt people. Words can cut, criticism can bruise. I spent a lifetime cowering away from feeling the pain of her disapproval. I don’t really want to go back to that feeling.” She glanced down at her bump. “And I don’t want this little one to ever feel that way.”
“Then don’t tell her.”
“That doesn’t seem right either. I’m not ashamed of this baby, or of myself. And if I try to hide things from her, that’s how it feels.”
“Have you thought about writing a letter?” he asked. “That way you’ve let her know but you don’t have to worry about her response; you can just let it go.”
“I hadn’t thought about that, but it’s a good idea. I could maybe send a copy of the ultrasound, too. If she wants to reply, she can, but at least I don’t have to hear some cutting response through the phone.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
His eyes met hers. “You’re welcome. Are you working at mine tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ve had another batch of orders come in. It’s time to start looking at some apartments, too, when I get a chance to research.” She reached for the door knob. “Are you working?”
“No. I have a rest day. I’ll probably sleep for some of it, and then I need to head out to meet a few people, so I won’t be in your hair.”
“I wouldn’t mind you getting in my hair.” She grinned. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, leaning across to kiss his cheek. She could feel the scrape of his beard growth on her lips. And there it was again, that shot of electricity. Her toes curled with the pleasure of it.
“See you tomorrow,” he replied, his voice gruff.
Yeah. She was looking forward to it.
16
James pulled his car into the parking lot and looked through the windshield. A wide expanse of verdant grass dotted with pearlescent white headstones lay beyond the black iron railings in front of his car. Tall cedar and oak trees provided shade, their leafy branches stooping over the graves. He grabbed the flowers he’d bought from the florist down the road and climbed out of the car, heading for the large double gates at the entrance of the cemetery.
It had been a while since he’d visited. Too long, probably. But something had called to him today; a need to be here, in the quiet of their final resting place, to feel the calm air around him as he tried to sort through his thoughts.
He didn’t sleep well last night. For most of the night he’d tossed and turned, his brain too alert to submit to the weariness of his body, his thoughts zapping him awake like paddles to his heart.
In the end, he’d got up right after daybreak and ran for miles along the coast, pushing himself to run faster, harder. Anything to get those damn thoughts out of his head. For a while a cormorant had kept pace with him, dipping and rising in flight above the crashing waves as it flew parallel to him. The bird had gotten bored in the end, turning left to head out to the sea, leaving him alone once again.
His feet knew the route to their graves by heart. A few hundred yards up the path, left at the second tree, right at the mausoleum that interred the bodies of the Paxton family, the original founders of Angel Sands. And then there were the two gravestones, one bigger than the other, signaling the final resting place of all he’d once held dear.
He separated the bouquet he’d bought, sliding flowers into each of their vases, then poured in water he’d brought along with him. Placing the water bottle on the grass, he leaned forward to touch the cool marble with his son’s name engraved on it.
Jacob was going to have a little sister. He tried to imagine his tiny little boy growing up, taking pride in being a big brother, teaching the younger children things he’d only recently learned himself. James pressed his lips together, his lungs tight as he tried to push those thoughts away. One day the baby in Harper’s stomach would be older than Jacob was when he died – please god. She would learn to walk, to talk, to read and write in a way Jacob never had. He was a frozen moment in time, and it hurt to know he’d never experience those things.
“Sleep tight,” James whispered, lifting his hand off the cool stone. “Daddy loves you.”
Ignoring the sting in his eyes, he turned to Sara’s grave. Beloved wife of James. Adored mother of Jacob. Heaven gained another star today. May she always shine on.
He blew out some air, but it didn’t ease the ache in his chest. Scooting down once more, he reached his hand out, running his fingers over the inscription.
“I’m going to be a dad again, Sara,” he said, his voice cracking. “In a few months I’ll have a new baby. And I don’t know how to do it without feeling like I’m forgetting everything we had. It’s like I’m moving on, and with every step I take, you and Jacob feel further and further behind. I even went for hours without thinking about you yesterday. I laughed and ate and drank and did everything you can’t, and then I hated myself for it.”
He took a deep breath. “And then there’s Harper. She’s the mom of the baby. I think you’d like her if you met her. She’s kind and funny and I know she’s gonna make a kick-ass mother.” He swallowed hard. “And I think I might have feelings for her, too.”
He closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Like I’ve come back to life again. But the more alive I feel, the more I realize you’re gone and are never coming back. I don’t want you to hate me for feeling like this. I don’t want you to think I’m going to forget you and Jacob. You’ll alwa
ys be with me. Always. He’ll always be this baby’s older brother.”
He shook his head, his eyes still shut. “I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I have no idea what to do. Sometimes I wish I could talk to you. You always gave such good advice.”
A warm breeze ruffled his hair. He opened his eyes and lifted his hand to straighten it. A leaf had caught in his mussed hair and he plucked it out.
No, not a leaf. A feather. A white one, with soft downy barbs. He stared at it, his brows pinching together. “Sara?” he said, his voice a whisper.
Then he shook his head at himself. How many times had he looked for a sign from her? There were birds everywhere in this cemetery, the trees full of nests. It wasn’t a sign, it was just the wind.
And yet holding that feather made his heart ache a little less. He inhaled deeply, the tightness in his chest gone. Maybe it wasn’t a sign he needed, but to actually listen to his own heart for a change. To stop beating himself up and allow himself to live again.
“I’ll bring the baby to meet you both once she’s here,” he said, biting down a smile because he was as bad as Harper with saying ‘she’. “And maybe Harper, too, if she’ll come.”
Another breeze. This time it lifted the feather from his hold, causing it to dance in the wind before it slowly floated to the ground. He lifted his head, staring beyond the grassy lawns and the gleaming headstones, to the cliffs towering over the Pacific coast.
Three years ago he’d buried his heart here, along with the family he’d lost. Maybe now it was time to claim it back.
* * *
“What are these for?” his mom asked when James handed her the second bouquet he’d bought from the florist.
“I saw them and thought of you.” He shrugged. “I wanted to say thank you for yesterday.” His voice lowered. “And sorry for leaving the way I did.”
“Would you like to come in?” she asked him. “I’ve just put some coffee on.”
“No thank you,” he said, glancing at his watch. “There are a couple more things I need to do before I head home, and I want to catch Harper before she leaves.”
His mom’s eyes lit up at the mention of Harper. It was impossible not to notice. He knew she’d made an impression on her, that she was beginning to hope for things she hadn’t in a long time.
Maybe they both were. He could hardly blame her for thinking about the same things he was.
“As long as we’re apologizing, I have one to make, too,” she told him, hugging the bouquet to her chest. “I was out of line bringing up Harper and Sara. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“You were only saying it because you care.” His mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had about his parents with Harper in the car. The gap between her upbringing and his felt so stark. No, she hadn’t suffered physical abuse, but it was clear her childhood had left other, less visible scars. He was grateful his parents had shown him nothing but love. “I know the past few years haven’t been easy for any of us.”
Her expression softened. “It’s you I worry about,” she whispered. “Losing your family so young was a terrible thing. I know it’s not something you ever get over, but my heart aches to see you so alone. This baby is the best thing that’s happened to any of us for a long while, and whatever happens between you and Harper doesn’t change that.” She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re my son. I’ll never stop worrying about you. Or loving you, either.”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “I like her.”
His mom blinked. “Harper?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “But right now I have no idea where to go with that thought.”
Her voice was soft. “Sometimes we just have to see where life takes us. Maybe it will go somewhere, maybe it will go nowhere, but the important thing is you’re opening yourself up to it.”
“It doesn’t mean I didn’t love Sara and Jacob.”
“Oh honey, of course it doesn’t. I know how much you love them. They knew it, too. But you have more than enough love to go around.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child, but I do know how it feels to watch a child you love more than life itself go through the worst thing any person can experience. My heart broke in a million pieces for you. If I could I’d take it all away. The pain, the hurt, everything. But I can’t.” Her voice cracked.
He leaned forward and hugged her, trying not to squash the bouquet of flowers she was still holding to her chest. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, his voice gruff.
When he released her, she was smiling through her tears. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she asked him.
“Not this time. I still have a few things to do. But let’s get together again soon. Maybe I’ll even bring Harper with me.” He hugged her again, and headed down the steps, lifting his hand in goodbye.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she called after him.
“It was my pleasure.”
* * *
Harper was finishing up a dress when James returned to the house. She threaded the needle through the fabric to attach the embellishments, edging the little-girl version of the dress with a braided ribbon. She was concentrating hard, her brows pulled together in a deep-v, as she made sure the stitches were even and invisible to the naked eye.
“Hey.”
James was at the bottom of the stairs, wearing jeans and a navy Henley, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow.
“Hi.” She felt that familiar warmth flood her veins. His top was tight, enough for her to see the outlines of his muscles beneath. But it wasn’t his body that got her attention, it was his face. “Is everything okay?” she asked him.
“Yeah, all good. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just look different.”
“Different how?” A half-smile curled his lips as he walked over to the sewing table.
She looked at him, trying to figure it out. “I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s your eyes. They look lighter. Are you wearing contacts?”
He laughed. “No. But they sometimes look a different color depending on what I’m wearing. My mom used to call them chameleon eyes. It’s probably the shirt I’ve got on. The darker the clothes the lighter they look.”
“I believe you, doctor.” She grinned and glanced down at her bump. “I wonder what color eyes this little one will have.”
“Blue.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Most Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes. They don’t change color until they’re around a year old.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “How could I not have known that? I don’t remember reading about that on the baby sites.” She frowned. “God, there’s so much I don’t know. Like how to hold the baby without hurting it’s neck, or how to change a diaper. I’m going to be the worst mom in the world.”
“Harper…”
“Seriously, this poor kid got the short straw. I know nothing about babies. What idiot decided to let me loose with a child?”
“Harper,” he said again, his voice soft. “It’s okay. Why would you know that if you didn’t need to?”
“You knew it.”
“I worked on a maternity ward during my medical training. It’s my job to know that kind of thing.”
She could feel tears filling her eyes. “I’m going to mess this all up,” she whispered. “I know it.”
Gently, he took her hands in his, and pulled her up from the chair. She looked at him, blinking back the tears. Even through the haze she could see his beauty. He pulled her into his arms, his hands pressing against her back. God, he was warm. She nestled her face against his ridged chest and breathed him in.
“Parenting isn’t about knowing everything,” he said, pressing his lips against her head. “It’s about listening to your instincts, but also being willing to take advice when you need to.” He slid his thumb under her chin, tipping her face up until their gazes met. “It’s about talking and listeni
ng, and more than anything, it’s about love. And I know you, Harper. You’ve got more than enough love for this baby.”
He wiped the dampness from her cheeks, his eyes not leaving hers. “Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” His voice was low. Full of need. It made the muscles in her legs clench.
“No.” Her smile was watery.
He traced his finger along her jaw, her cheek, and the bridge of her nose. Then he reached her mouth, slightly open with the wonder of him. Her bottom lip trembled as he slid his finger along it.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, thick eyelashes sweeping down as he stared intently at her.
“I want you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.” He ran his finger along her top lip to prove it.
“More,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I want more.”
“More what?”
God, this man knew how to set her on fire. With his words, his gaze, his touch. It was as though her body was hollow before he came along, her mind waiting for his thoughts, her skin waiting for his touch.
It couldn’t just be hormones. Hormones didn’t make your heart swell inside your chest. They didn’t make your throat feel tight because it was hard to breathe every time you looked at him. He wasn’t just a scratch to itch anymore, he was so much more.
She ached for him.
“Harper.”
“Kiss me, James.”
This time, when their mouths met there was a softness, a sweetness that hadn’t been there before. His kiss was gentle, almost lazy, as he took his time to savor her. His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her head to the right angle. She could feel his hot fingers splayed against her cheek, branding her, as he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips to deepen the kiss.
Her legs shook, and she had to grasp onto his arms to steady herself. His biceps flexed beneath her hands, reminding her how strong he was. It was easy to forget when he was so gentle. With his hand still cupping her face, he tilted it back, sliding his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking her throat until every cell in her body began to sing.