Baby on the Way (6 page)

Caitlin frowned, wondering what he was talking about. Did he mean Garrett and Beth, or was he talking about the two of them and the fact that when she’d needed him, he’d sent Michael to her.

“Jordan, I…” She didn’t know how to tell him what was in her heart, didn’t know whether he regretted his actions or not. Maybe it was best to leave things be.

“Sorry.” His voice was low and apologetic. “Let’s change the subject. What are you planning for tomorrow? You don’t have weekend clients, do you?”

“No.” She shook her head and then waited while their server set down the steaming platters of lasagna. “Oh, this is great. I’m starving!”

He grinned. “So what’s new? What about this girl you mentioned earlier?”

“Addie. She’s making progress but it’s slow. She
doesn’t feel very secure in herself and that causes a lot of problems.”

“I thought you said her father was some wealthy businessman? She doesn’t have to worry about money or security.” He frowned. “What does bother her?”

“It’s complicated, Jordan.” She shrugged, neglecting to mention that Addie’s problems made her reflect on her own. “I’m still studying her, but basically she just doesn’t feel loved and she’s trying to get her father to prove he does.”

“Ah.” He nodded with understanding then sprinkled Parmesan cheese liberally over his pasta. “Her father’s away a lot, I suppose?”

“A whole lot. He tends to use his secretary as Addie’s mother and she, of course, feels abandoned so she tries to prove that she’s worth loving.” Ouch, this was getting too close to home. Caitlin clamped her lips closed and concentrated on her food.

Jordan was silent for a long time, picking at his lasagna absently as he considered her words. When he finally looked up there was a softness about the chiseled features.

“You know, I grew up in a home where my parents treated us as people, a part of the circle of their love in spite of our faults. Somehow I never felt I had to measure up to anyone. I always felt they just wanted me to be the best me I could be. They seemed happy with that.”

His eyes stared ahead unseeingly. “I realize now just how much of a gift that acceptance was when I
hear you talk about this Addie.” His glance shifted to Caitlin.

She could almost hear him say “and you.”

“But I can’t help feelings that Addie needs someone to rely on. Someone who will be there for her when she runs out of her own power. I think she needs to find someone to put her trust in. Someone who won’t let her down. I think she needs God.”

“I don’t think religion is going to solve all of Addie’s problems, Jordan.” Caitlin heard the skeptical tones in her own voice and mentally winced. There was no point in offending him just because
she
had a problem with God.

“No, not a religion. A relationship with God. And I’m not saying all her problems will disappear. But when you look at it, none of us are really great human beings. We need someone to depend on. Everybody has some little flaw they try to hide from other people.”

Caitlin grinned. Opportunities like these weren’t to be passed up. “Even you?”

“Yes, even me, I suppose. Though I don’t have many and most of them have already been corrected.”

She chuckled, enjoying the repartee she’d missed for so long. “Your sisters think there’s work to be done.”

He sniffed. “They should take care of their own colossal imperfections before looking at my few faults.” He slid a hand onto the table, his face growing serious. “Everyone needs to know that there is
someone there, to trust in and to believe that they’ll come through.”

“That’s what I just said. You’ve learned to deal with life.” Caitlin savored the rich tomato flavor, happy that she’d given in to his persuasion and come along. This was very relaxing.

“No, Caitlin, it’s more than just ‘dealing with life.’” Jordan hunched over the table, his fingers entwining together as he tried to make her see his point.

“I don’t have to worry about pleasing someone else all the time, trying to fit his or her mold, because I’ve already learned that I am important to God. That’s the first big hurdle to acceptance.”

He ignored her arched eyebrow. “The difference is that this Addie sounds like she’s trying to get through everything on her own. She can’t do it. Or if she can, it will only last for a while. People need God and other Christians in their lives to help validate them and the choices they make.”

“And what about when those Christians fail?” Caitlin wasn’t talking about Addie’s father now. This issue was a little too close to home. She had a feeling Jordan knew it, too.

“Everyone fails now and then. It’s called being human. You get up and move on.”

Caitlin bristled, realizing he was directing some of his comments at her. It was so easy for him. He didn’t have to worry about being alone, depending on himself, making mistakes. There was always a crowd of people hovering around in the Andrewses’ household.

“Not everyone has dependable people in their
lives, Jordan. And sometimes the people you do depend on leave you high and dry.”

Jordan nodded. “Quite often, in fact. That’s the beauty of having faith. Things will work out. You just have to be patient and trust that God has something special for you. You have to
trust
Him.”

Caitlin paused before she said anything. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but neither could she just let this pass. “Jordan, I don’t think I believe that anymore. Michael’s gone. It’s not going to get better.” She sipped her ice water in an effort to control the frustration that whirled within.

“God let me down with Michael, just like He did with my parents all those years ago. They died, my aunt died, and Michael died. God could have stopped it, but He didn’t. And no amount of faith is going to bring them back. Now I’ve got to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

Jordan was silent for a few minutes, obviously deep in thought. She reared in surprise when his next words came.

“Caitlin, would you believe God hadn’t let you down if Michael had survived the crash and was lying in the hospital in a coma?”

“It’s hypothetical,” she murmured. “But at least there might be some hope.”

“Even if the doctors said he would never regain consciousness?”

Caitlin shuddered. “No, I wouldn’t want him to just lie there, with no possibility of ever waking up.”

Jordan nodded. “Would you feel better if Michael had lived but been paralyzed, then?”

She hated this. “I don’t know.”

“What if he was in constant agony, but still alive?”

“I’ve said I don’t know,” she replied tersely, laying her fork on the table. “Why do you keep asking me these awful questions?”

“Because we can’t second-guess life, Lyn. And, no matter how much we want it, we will never know why Michael died. No explanations, just reality.”

“It’s awfully hard to accept that.” She bit her lip.

“Yes, it is hard,” he agreed. “But we can get through it. With God’s help. And friends.” He cleared his throat. “I miss my brother every day. But I know that where he is has to be a far better place. I have to let God take care of him and get on with my life. Someday I’ll see him again in heaven.”

His smile lit up his eyes as he spoke and Caitlin found herself mesmerized by the lilt in his voice.

“You see, Lyn, the difference is where we put our faith. You want to put yours in yourself. You think if you do enough, be enough, work hard enough, you’ll be okay. But if something knocks you down, your house of cards tumbles and it takes a long time to rebuild.”

“And?” She avoided his eyes.

“I put my faith in God. He’s all powerful, all knowing, all seeing. We make a strong team. What I can’t handle, He does. And He gives me faith in myself and my friends.” His hand covered hers. “When
I get bowled over by life, He’s still there, waiting to help me up.”

Caitlin reconsidered Jordan’s words as they finished dinner and then during the short silent car ride home. She continued to think about things long after he’d brushed her cheek with a friendly kiss and left her inside her door.

Was she really strong enough to be everything to her child when she herself-felt so needy?

The answer was simple. She had to be.

But how?

Caitlin brushed the problem away, unwilling to probe that question too deeply. Grabbing a nearby pad of paper, she began to list the essentials that had to be completed before the baby arrived. This, at least, she could get a grip on, she told herself.
This
was under her control.

S
aturday morning dawned bright and clear. It would be the last really good day of autumn, Caitlin decided, eyeing the baby’s nursery with dismay.

Where had the time gone? She had intended to have Wintergreen, her apartment, and especially the baby’s room, ready at least a month ago. With a little more than a month before her due date, it was high past time to get the painting done. And the weather had provided the perfect opportunity to do so. The unseasonably sunny, clear day meant she could open the windows and allow the nontoxic paint fumes to escape while she worked.

But before she could even begin, she was interrupted by a knock on the front door.

Jordan asked her as he stepped inside, “What are you going to do this fine day, Mrs. Andrews?”

“I’m painting the baby’s room.” She ignored his
gasp and stepped around his big frame to walk toward the nursery.

“Caitlin, you can’t paint a room in your condition,” he admonished her loudly, following behind.

“I can paint if I want to! I have to get it done before the baby arrives.” There he was, bossing her around again.

“Yes, but breathing paint fumes isn’t—”

“Mr. Becker at the hardware store said the paint I chose doesn’t have that problem.” She glared at him furiously. “I’m not totally helpless, Jordan. Good grief, even I can paint a room.”

“Can I help?”

“Jordan, I’m not helpless. I can do this.” She stopped when his head started shaking.

“Yeah, I know that,” he told her, staring down at his shoes. “It’s just that, well, uh…” he cleared his husky voice.

Caitlin stared, unsure of this new side of him. She had never seen Jordan so at a loss for words before.

“I just thought, maybe I could be, well, part of the preparations? You know? Help get things ready for my new little niece or nephew.”

His eyes had melted to a deep bronze. They were soft and molten like liquid gold. She saw tenderness but no pity.

“Kind of, well, step in for Mike.”

The softly spoken pledge tugged at her heart. Jordan wasn’t bullying or ordering now. He just wanted to be a part of things. Against her better judgment, she gave in.

“Okay,” she agreed finally. “But no telling me how to do things. I have something in mind and you’re not changing it, Jordan. Not one little bit!”

He acceded easily enough, the twinkle of mischief back in his eyes. And to his credit he said nothing when she teetered on the rungs of the ladder, reaching for the crease along the stippled ceiling. He merely stood below, his lips pursed in a tight, straight line, holding the ladder. Nor did he comment when she dripped paint into his hair. Or when she wavered with dizziness on the second from the top rung.

But when she finally came down off the ladder, he was there with a cold glass of water.

“Sit down and drink this,” he ordered.

As she watched, his face assumed that tight mask of control, devoid of any visible emotion. She hated that look.

“I’ll take my turn now.” He took the roller from her without asking and climbed the ladder, his lips pinched together.

Caitlin drank the cool refreshing water thankfully. And when it became clear that Jordan had no intention of relinquishing his hold on the roller or the ladder, she took the brush to the corners, filling the seamed areas his roller didn’t cover.

They worked in silence as the fresh autumn breeze blew in the windows. It helped carry away some of the nontoxic paint smell and Caitlin was grateful.

But eventually she had to get out of the room. Her aching head and queasy stomach refused to subside and since Jordan had insisted the bedroom door remain
closed to seal off the rest of the house, it was impossible to get totally away from the odor as long as she remained in the room.

“I think I’ll go make some tea.” She left with an admonition for him to call her when he needed help. Once downstairs, Caitlin headed for the front door to check the mailbox.

“Hi. What’s up?” Maryann stood in the front hall, the area that divided their apartments. “Got company?”

“Jordan.” Caitlin made a face. “I’m trying to paint the nursery and he insists I leave it to him. That man is so bossy.” She grinned. “But to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’d do without him. At the moment I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having someone care about you, Caitlin,” Maryann murmured.

“Yes, I know. It’s just that Jordan sort of bulldozes me into things. And I don’t even realize it until he’s left.” She frowned. “I’ve got an idea for that room and I intend to carry it out.”

The doorbell rang then, cutting into their conversation.

“That’s for me,” Maryann said. “Amy and I are going out.”

“Oh.” Caitlin’s interest perked at the mention of Maryann’s daughter. “Going with anyone I know?”

“Everybody seems to know everything around here,” Maryann chuckled as she tugged open the front door. “Come on in, Peter. I’ll just get Amy. Peter’s Amy’s skating coach for ringette.”

“Okay. Hello, Mrs. Andrews.” Peter Bloomfield stepped into the hall, his smile white and gleaming.

Caitlin nodded absently, wished him a good day and then turned back into her apartment. She closed the door carefully, her mind busy. Seconds later she had the phone next to her ear.

“Clayton? Maryann and Amy are going out with Peter Bloomfield. I thought we agreed that you would ask her out. Dancing, you said.”

The bachelor’s quiet tones rumbled down the phone line. “Oh. Yeah. Well, I tried. But I just couldn’t do it, Caitlin. Maybe after a few more practice sessions.”

All that time she’d spent encouraging him and he
still
wasn’t sure? “All right, Clayton. If you’re certain?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Can I come over for lessons again?”

“Yes, all right. Monday night. Bye, Clayton.” Caitlin hung up the phone with another sigh.

“He’s coming over
again?
” Jordan stood frowning at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s it for this time?”

“He’s not quite confident yet. He feels he needs a few more sessions before he makes a move.”

“What kind of sessions?” Jordan’s face was dark. “Are you counseling this guy or something, Lyn?”

“No. If you must know, I’m trying to teach him to dance.” She held up a hand. “Please, Jordan, I can’t say any more. He made me promise, so don’t ask. Just make sure your mother doesn’t happen to drop over for coffee on Monday evening, okay?”

Jordan didn’t say yes. But then he didn’t say no, either. He just stood there, glaring at her, before he turned and went back up the stairs.

“Did you want something?” she called.

“Yes,” she heard him mutter, his voice grumpy. “But I don’t think I’m going to get it.” Seconds later the nursery door slammed shut.

Caitlin shrugged and walked out into her tiny kitchen. She watered the herbs that had started to sprout in the windowsill planter and realized her headache was easing.

Some time out of that room was all she needed she told herself, ignoring the muscles that protested from the effort of too much unaccustomed reaching.

Time out and some time away from Jordan Andrews was the best possible solution to her problems. Lately he had a way of looking at her that made her strangely nervous. A quiver would start in her tummy and zap to her brain, rendering her mental functions virtually useless.

It was a schoolgirl reaction and she ordered herself to get over it. Jordan was handsome and kind and sweet. He’d help out anyone in her predicament. And, after all, she
was
his sister-in-law.

At twelve she went to call him for the small lunch she had prepared. She found Jordan whistling as he rolled on the last few strokes.

“You’re finished, already?” she said, amazed at the difference a paint job could make. The walls glowed smooth and creamy in their new coats of velvet gloss.

“It’s not that big an area and the surface is in good shape.”

“It should be. I paid a small fortune for a plasterer.”

He avoided her eyes as he covered an area she’d already painted earlier. His smooth even strokes blended out the lines left by her hurried determination to do it herself.

“This is where I’m going to put the duck decals,” she told him happily, holding up her hands to frame the area.

It was amazing how quickly the feature wall evolved after that. Jordan suggested a light-blue background for the space behind Mrs. Puddleduck.

They walked downstairs, still discussing the nursery.

“She needs a pond,” he told her seriously, his eyes gleaming through the paint-spattered metal rims of his glasses as he stood in the kitchen. He washed out the roller while she served the soup.

A pond sounded reasonable.

“Okay,” she acquiesced. “But that’s all. No more frills. I want to do ruffly curtains and with the border I bought today, that should be enough accents. The furniture I ordered will complete it.”

They ate without speaking, enjoying the relative calm of their lunchtime, munching on the cold cuts and rolls she served.

They sat for a while and then Caitlin moved to the sofa where she could feel herself drifting to sleep.
When she awoke, she realized Jordan had covered her with the teal afghan from the living room.

The dishes lay stacked neatly in the kitchen sink. And there was a faint sound of whistling from upstairs. She followed that sound and found Jordan in the nursery, surrounded by small colored cans of paint. She also saw that the mural had expanded from a simple pond to include three white, puffy clouds floating in a pale blue sky.

“Atmosphere,” he told her. His eyes were fixed on the wall, studying it as if something were about to emerge.

Shaking her head, Caitlin went to get him some coffee. When she returned, an array of bright-yellow daffodils waved on thin green stalks from a clump of warm-brown dirt on the edge of the lake.

She hadn’t finished admiring those when he added two thick green trees and a patch of high reedy grass. She called a halt then.

“Jordan, you can’t put on any more. There won’t be room for Jemima Puddleduck or her brood!”

His eyes were glazed as he stood back, studying his efforts, paintbrush in hand. “A boat,” he murmured. “A little sailboat with a bright-red sail, maybe.”

“No, no more. It looks wonderful just as it is.”

He didn’t appear to hear her. “I think if I…”

Caitlin took the brush from his hand and tossed it into the garbage bag. “If you’ve got so much energy, you can help me put up the border along the ceiling edge,” she muttered. He agreed readily enough and
once he’d finished his coffee, they began pasting the bands of color onto the newly painted walls.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait before doing this?” she asked him for the sixth time. Her hand swept over the wall, assessing its condition. “This paint does seem dry enough.”

“It was dry ages ago,” he reassured her. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have started that.” One long finger pointed to the scene he’d created.

“Here’s another one. We’re almost done,” she cried exultantly as he placed the last bit carefully against the wall.

They picked up the bits of paper and glue that clung here and there to the pale-gray carpet Finally Jordan went to wash while she called the baby store to request a rush delivery of the furniture. It suddenly seemed urgent to get the room finished.

To her surprise, the store manager said they could bring everything within the hour. Caitlin could hardly control her anticipation as she surveyed the room, mentally placing the items she had chosen earlier in the week.

When she couldn’t wait any longer and Jordan had returned, she insisted that the walls were dry enough. They lifted up the sticky characters and applied them, using great care to avoid smudging the freshly painted mural. Jordan continued to speculate.

“Perhaps a beach ball,” he deliberated. “And a pail and shovel.”

“No, Jordan.”

“But Lyn, if it’s a boy, he’ll want some boy toys.”

Caitlin was losing her patience. “Jordan, we’re talking about a newborn baby here. Toys will come a little later, okay?”

He nodded absently, his mind obviously somewhere else. “I really think a boat…”

“Jordan,” Caitlin muttered, tugging the change table Robyn had given her through the door to its place under the wall lamp. “Jordan?”

He was on his hands and knees staring at the bottom of the grass. “You know—” his dark eyes beamed up at her “—if we just put a little garter snake here…”

“No,” she bellowed, repulsed by the very idea of a snake in her baby’s room. “No reptiles!”

His merry chuckles made her flush with embarrassment.

“I was only teasing,” he muttered, unabashed when she fired off a glare.

They worked together with the delivery man, her directing and the men lifting as they moved the oak crib and an antique rocking chair Caitlin had purchased to just the right place and then moved them again because the ambience wasn’t quite right.

The chair she finally placed near the window so she could see outside. A tall bureau found its home strategically situated near the change table to allow her handy diaper swaps.

At last everything was where she wanted it. Caitlin gazed round the room with satisfaction. It was a beautiful room. And it had taken half the time she had
expected to ready the nursery. Thanks to Jordan. She turned to meet his dark gaze.

“Thank you.” She felt as if her whole body was smiling with the relief of having this job done. “I appreciate the time you’ve spent here, helping me.” She smiled softly. “You’ve made this room very special. I value your help.”

He grinned back, bowing at the waist. “My pleasure, Caitlin. I enjoyed every minute.”

His face grew more serious as he studied her through his spattered lenses. “I think you’re going to enjoy sitting in here. And the baby will love it.”

A wistful look covered his face. Then, like a cloud, darkness flooded his eyes. “I just wish you would consider allowing the rest of the family to help a little more. Mom and Dad would love to be on call for whatever you need.”

The goodwill and harmony they had just shared evaporated now like the sun behind those dark wintry clouds that had started blowing in from the north. Caitlin turned to leave, tugging the black garbage bag behind her. When Jordan took it from her, she let him, not saying a word. Her footsteps were weary as she plodded slowly down the stairs. He followed silently.