Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  There was no use in bringing up my baby’s father. Finn was unpredictable. He could have been drunk when he sent those texts. No more stable than the wind, flitting this way and that with whatever philosophy or emotion suited him at the moment. Quite likely, I wouldn’t hear from him again. And while I would keep my promise to let him know when the baby was born, I doubted it would make a difference.

  In the words of Toni Morrison, love was only as good as the integrity of the lover. Finn Becker only cared about one person—and it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t our child.

  It was himself.

  23

  “Josie, these are great!” Lizzie gazed at the name plaques for the guest rooms I’d painstakingly wood burned onto stained pieces of pine. Their beveled edges gave the otherwise rustic pieces an elegant flair. She picked up the one closest to the edge of the dining room table—the Hawthorne Room— and ran her fingers over the indents in the wood.

  “Mom liked them. We’ll have to see how they look on the doors once they finish painting everything.”

  “It’s all so exciting.” She panned the room, the many boxes piled high around us, waiting for our move in just two days.

  Tripp’s crew was still working on the painting and trim of the B&B, as well as the small apartment above the bookshop. We’d use the next two weeks to get settled into our new living space and decorate while waiting for our occupancy permit. We’d hang our sign, advertise as best we could online and through various newspapers, and plan the open house as soon as we got the green light.

  Oh yeah, and somewhere within that time frame I’d be having a baby.

  I gathered the plaques. “How’s teaching? Kids aren’t giving you any trouble, are they?” How my shy, introverted sister commanded a class of rowdy middle-schoolers was beyond me, but she loved it and did it well.

  “Classes are good, but there’s talk of cutting the music budget in the new year.”

  “Would they do that?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose if it came down to it. Music and art always seem to be the first on the list when it comes to budget cuts.”

  “But that’s not right. So many kids find an outlet through those classes. A talent they might not otherwise find.” I thought of my own secret vice of writing when I was younger, of the half-filled journal upstairs that I’d written in each night for the last several months. A story. A creative release, a way to unwind and let the world fade away. Some people had a glass of wine at the end of the day, others had a television show; I had my writing. How many children would miss out on finding their outlet if the budget was cut?

  “I know.” The corner of Lizzie’s mouth tightened. “I don’t see how I’m ever going to work full-time at this rate, either. Good thing Mom can use my help at the B&B. I’ll never be bored.”

  “As long as we get reservations, you won’t be.” I’d been so certain of the worth of my idea, but what if it didn’t take off? What if Mom didn’t make enough to make ends meet? What if we couldn’t live long-term with Aunt Pris without killing one another?

  Lizzie rubbed my back. “We will get reservations. Maybe the first few months with winter and all will be slow, but people will come. You’re worrying for nothing.”

  The mention of worrying made me think of Tripp’s worry box. Maybe I should start one of my own.

  The door squeaked, followed by Mom bustling in with bags. “Oh good, you girls are home.” She placed the bags on a chair and dug into one, pulling out a soft yellow baby bath towel, a duck face on the hood. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing? I think I’m getting addicted to baby clothes.”

  I reached for the soft material. “It’s adorable, Mom. But you’re already spoiling this child.”

  Lizzie ran her thumb and forefinger over the towel. “Someone has to since you’re dead set against a shower. I don’t see why you won’t let us throw you one, Josie.”

  I blew out a breath that fanned the hair above my face. “Don’t you think we have enough going on? Besides, I’m just not comfortable on display, sitting in a chair I barely fit in while opening presents in front of a group of gabby women who don’t approve of me. I’ve dipped into my savings for some of what I need, but the rest will come.” I’d purchased a car seat and a stroller and some diapers. Bless his heart, Tripp surprised me the week before by setting up a crib in the bookshop. We’d move it upstairs once the apartment was finished. “I’m not one of those mothers who thinks everything has to be perfect before the baby comes. I’ve winged this whole thing so far, don’t see why that should change once the baby’s born.”

  “Okay, then. We get it.” Lizzie turned to Mom and shrugged. “I know it’s early, but I was at the craft store today and there were these beautiful red berries on sale. I think they’d be perfect for decorating inside for Christmas. You want to check it out tonight?”

  “Oh honey, I’d love to, but can I take a rain check? Aunt Pris asked me and Maggie to go over a few details on the website. She saw it for the first time yesterday and was both impressed and appalled, I think. She wanted Maggie to make some corrections on the History page, and I didn’t want to send her over alone.”

  “I could go with you,” I said to Lizzie. “If Mom trusts me enough for a second opinion on decorating themes.” I’d missed too much last Christmas. We all had, it being our first without Dad. But this new season of life made me hunger for the holiday that held so many fond memories.

  Mom and Lizzie exchanged glances.

  “What?”

  “No gaudy neon lights, Josie.” Mom planted her hands on her hips.

  “I loved those ornaments on the tree when we were growing up.”

  “And each year, I flinched when I walked into the living room.”

  Lizzie laughed. “I just put on a pair of sunglasses. It wasn’t so bad after that.”

  Mom turned to Lizzie, put her hands on both shoulders. “Lizzie Martin, do you solemnly swear to be strong enough to withstand Josie’s persuasive and winsome ways? To put your foot down in the name of all that is beautiful and tasteful about Christmas?”

  A smile crept over my sister’s mouth. “I do.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, you two. Who says Christmas has to be tasteful, anyway? If there’s ever a time to get loud and bright, it’s December.”

  The doorbell rang and Mom turned toward the front. “But we don’t want to blind our guests, dear!”

  Lizzie and I erupted into giggles. I looked at the corner where our Christmas tree stood for as long as I’d been alive. Now, a stack of cardboard boxes filled its place. I sighed and finished gathering the name plaques for the rooms. “Hard to believe we’re really saying goodbye to this place, isn’t it?”

  “It is. But you know, I’ve been thinking that it sort of feels like cleaning out the old to make way for the new. Like maybe God’s asking us to trust Him in this so He can do something amazing.”

  That was Lizzie, always seeing the hopeful side of things. I winked at her. “I’m trusting you’re right. And when the time—”

  “Finn!” Mom’s excited greeting split through the air. “It’s been too long. What an amazing surprise!”

  My knees grew weak, and I dropped the room labels. They clattered to the table. Finn…my Finn? But not mine. I didn’t want him to be mine. I put my hands, palms flat, on the table to steady myself, dragged conscious breaths through my nose.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Lizze came to my side, supporting me.

  If I had enough strength to carry my heavy body up the stairs, I would have hid in my room. It struck me then how I had gained more than my fair share of pregnancy weight, how I did not want to face Finn like this.

  I couldn’t believe he’d come. Hadn’t I been clear when we talked? I really didn’t want anything to do with him. Only because he was the father of my child did I even intend to tell him when Little Mouse was born.

  Why on earth was he here?

  Mom swept him into the dining room, her hand on his back, pushing him fo
rward. It struck me for the first time how he was closer to Mom’s age than mine. My stomach soured.

  “Girls, you remember Professor Becker, of course. He came over for many a Thanksgiving around here.”

  I stared at the table, couldn’t make my gaze meet Finn’s. But why not? This was my turf, my home. I needn’t be ashamed. He was the one who threw me away when I no longer suited his needs.

  I lifted my chin, stared him down, but found myself a little swayed by those familiar brown eyes. My breath hitched in my chest. I’d had so many expectations for us. Maybe they hadn’t always included the traditional marriage and family picture, but they’d been real. Authentic. How many talks over the complexities of the human mind had we discussed? How many books had we debated over? How many intimate moments had we shared?

  I hated my thoughts, hated to remember his good points instead of the bad I’d clung to the last several months.

  “Hello, Josie.”

  I didn’t answer, felt Mom and Lizzie studying us. With sudden clarity, Mom inhaled a sharp breath, her eyes wide. I met her gaze with my own, and I knew she knew. She bit her bottom lip to keep her emotions at bay. I was certain if we all kept staring at one another Mom would say something she’d regret.

  I gestured toward the backyard patio. “We can talk out there if that’s why you’ve come.”

  He nodded, looked at Mom. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” he whispered, sliding past her before Mom could manage any words.

  Once on the patio, I sat on the swing, the act of pushing my feet against the cobbles helping to expend some of the nervous energy surging through my body. Finn didn’t sit, but stood, hands in the pockets of his khakis, pressed shirt neatly tucked into his pants. He looked good, trim and tan. He’d always had it so together. We were complete opposites, really. Is that why I’d been drawn to him? Had I been nothing but a unique amusement to him, a way to pass time until someone better came along?

  “You didn’t tell them.” He seemed preoccupied with the herb garden, a chaotic assembly of basil and oregano, thyme and sage, mint and parsley.

  “I never expected you to show up. I didn’t think there was a reason, thought it would only complicate things.”

  He sat down in the chair closest to me, leaned over long splayed legs. “I’m sorry, Josie. I—I should have done a lot of things differently.”

  “Like?”

  He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling beneath the buttons of his dress shirt. This was hard for him, but I didn’t care. In fact, it satisfied something within me to see him squirm.

  “Like listened to you, listened to what you wanted. I was stubborn. I tried to manipulate you into doing what I wanted. I should have known you were too strong for that.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I guess I was pretty full of myself, huh? Thinking you’d do anything—even get rid of our baby—if it meant keeping me.”

  “I guess so.” I didn’t intend the sarcasm on my tongue, but feared if I didn’t stay mad, if I didn’t cling to my anger, he’d whisk me away again. Make me forget myself, make me forget everything but him.

  And I couldn’t let that happen. Tripp had shown me real love, not just these past few months, but all my life. Tripp, with his offer of tender security, with his patient thoughtfulness. I could not afford to get caught up in the whirlwind of Finn Becker again, and the fact that I thought it a possibility now made me all the more desperate to push him away.

  “Josie, I’m sorry. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I want to do the right thing.”

  “But isn’t ‘right’ relative?” I asked, throwing one of his own premises back in his face.

  He swallowed. “I’m not pretending to have all the answers anymore. But I’m trying. Please.” He reached into his back pocket, slipped out an envelope, and handed it to me.

  I turned it over. “What’s this?”

  “Something to show you I mean what I say.”

  I slid the envelope open. Inside was a check large enough to pay for a year of graduate classes at NYU. I shook my head. “Finn—”

  “I told you. I want to do the right thing. In many ways, you turned my world upside-down. I’ve never known my conscience to be as active as it’s been these last several months. Josie, please let me make it up to you.”

  There were times, weeks even, after finding out I was pregnant with Finn’s baby that I’d dreamed of a scenario such as this. Finn, practically groveling at my feet, begging me to give him and our baby another chance. I wouldn’t give in too easy of course, I’d make him work a bit, but eventually he’d win me over. And we would move forward, plan our next steps to being a happy family. Only now, the thought of being with Finn felt like bondage. I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to leave Tripp and all he’d given me—hope in a future, hope in him, hope in God, hope in myself—to go back to a lie.

  “What do you want from me, Finn?” I whispered. All of a sudden, I just wanted to make peace, to say what he needed to hear so he could be on his way back to New York City.

  He stood, reached in his front pocket and withdrew a square velvet box. Even as he planted one knee firmly on the cobbles beneath him and held a massive glittering diamond rock up to me, I couldn’t comprehend what in the Sam Hill he thought he was doing.

  I shook my head, wondering how he thought this could be the best solution to what was before us.

  “Josie, I made a big mistake when I let you walk out of my life. I’m ready, now. Ready to be a father to our child, a husband to you. I will help you finish your classes, pay for childcare so you can pursue your dreams. They shouldn’t die. Josie, will you marry me?”

  Finn’s heart hadn’t pounded this hard since he stood at the open door of the plane on his first skydiving jump. But he’d thought long and hard about this, had even prayed a little. Him, Finn Becker. Praying.

  It was the only decision to give him a good night’s sleep, sans the tears. It was the only decision that gave peace. Maybe he could turn over a new leaf. Be a family man. Maybe fulfillment wasn’t just about enjoyment of life. Maybe it was in the work of family and love, sticking it through when the tough came along.

  Yes, there was definitely something honorable about it. Something that made him stand a little straighter and sleep a little deeper. Katarina hadn’t understood, not really. But she would be okay in the end. She was a strong woman, too.

  His arms grew weighty from holding up the ring. He’d gone down to Manhattan Jewelry and bought one of the largest engagement rings he could find. Something no woman would say no to.

  But Josie’s response didn’t meet his imagination. He studied her. Rounder than he remembered, but her figure could come back in time. He’d pay for a gym membership, one with childcare, so she could run on the treadmills.

  He realized his mistake too late. Josie hated running on the treadmill. She only ran outside. For some reason, this realization caused his carefully crafted plans to collapse in his head. And he knew—knew what she was going to say before she said it, was astonished to feel just a tiny bit of relief, even.

  But what did that mean for their future and the future of their child?

  24

  Tripp whistled as he parked his truck in the Martin driveway and went around to the back door, holding a single sunflower in his hand. He told Hannah he’d take as many packed boxes over to Orchard House as he could in the next couple days.

  Maybe Josie would take the ride over with him. They could grab a bite to eat, maybe some ice cream. Lately, she was always up for ice cream.

  Grandpop had been by the B&B that day to inspect the work. He’d given his hearty approval, and Tripp hadn’t been able to hide his pride. The Orchard House was spectacular. Alive with purpose and anticipation and history, it glittered. The rooms needed hardware and a paint touchup, and Josie’s small apartment needed some work, but it would be done before the baby came, as would the bookshop.

  He pictured Josie rocking her babe in the upstairs apartment, looking over the va
st orchard in bloom. He wanted that place, that snatch of time, to include him, too, but Josie hadn’t indicated anything long term. He refused to rush her, knew from experience it would only push her away.

  He turned the corner and stopped at the sight of a dark-haired man on one knee, a ring the size of Augusta in his hand. And Josie. His Josie, sitting with her arms over her swollen belly, jaw open.

  The sunflower fell from Tripp’s hand. He couldn’t move, a thousand thoughts flitting through his mind. The man looked familiar, but Tripp couldn’t place him. Not that it mattered. It didn’t take a high IQ to gather this was the father of Josie’s baby, the man she’d fallen in love with and gave herself to, the man that Tripp wanted—with every sinew and fiber and muscle of his body—to pummel beyond recognition.

  And yet he stood frozen, couldn’t tear his eyes away from what would happen next. While Tripp wanted this guy far away from the woman he loved, he needed to make sure Josie felt the same. Was this man what was best for her?

  Hell might as well freeze over if that were the case. But Josie wouldn’t take kindly to Tripp swooping in and saving her. Besides, what was he saving her from? A marriage proposal?

  Something inside Tripp came undone. Josie had loved this clown. Maybe she still did. He was the father of her baby. Was that reason enough for her to marry him?

  No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

  He strode hard toward the patio, an awkward sound escaping his throat.

  Both turned, and Tripp saw the guy was older. Not ready to apply for Medicare exactly, but old enough to already have a wife and grown children. Was Josie just the next in line for him?

  Josie’s eyes widened. “Tripp.”

  The man turned back to Josie. “Josie…”