Baby on the Way (8 page)

“Yes, but you don’t understand politics,” he chided his daughter, a twinkle at the back of his eyes. “Women always take it too seriously.”

“It is only our country, after all,” Caitlin teased, watching Olivia’s eyes. “No point in getting all hot and bothered about a little thing like that.” She burst out laughing at Stan’s guffaw of disgust.

“Where’s Glen when I need him anyway?” Stan grumbled, searching the room for his son-in-law.

“He’s working late so he can take the weekend off,” Robyn informed him. “And you two don’t agree on politics anyway.”

“We’d agree about this,” Stan blustered.

As the controversy raged, the entire family got into the act. There was no acrimony, no hard feelings, no overruling of one by the other. They bickered and squabbled good-naturedly while the last of the pie magically disappeared off Jordan’s plate.

“I saw that,” Caitlin whispered.

He nodded. “I know. And you’re not going to tell a single soul. Particularly not my dad. Right?”

“Or?” For the first time in a long while Caitlin felt really alive, a part of something. She narrowed her gaze. “What will you do?”

He thought about it for a few moments, his forehead pleated in a frown.

“Well?”

“I don’t know yet.” He licked his fork clean, then slipped his empty plate behind him on the bottom shelf of the nearby coffee table. “But it’s going to be really, really bad.”

“Oh, no! Now I’m
really
scared,” she giggled, feeling the years roll away as she teased him.

“Good.” His fingers laced through hers and he leaned back on the sofa, pulling her against the cushiony softness, his shoulder touching hers. “I suppose I’ll have to keep you here beside me, just to make sure you don’t blab.”

“I suppose.” She relaxed, content to be quiet and observe the give-and-take of love that flowed so easily in this family.

“Hey, Caitlin, are you awake?” Robyn turned the focus on her.

Jordan shook his head, watching Caitlin smother a yawn. In seconds he was on his feet, reaching out a hand to pull her upright. “Right now Caitlin’s too tired to listen to you silly girls any longer.”

The female contingent rose en masse in protest.

He blithely ignored them all, tugging Caitlin toward the front door. Once there he dug in the closet, found what he wanted, then placed Caitlin’s thick coat over her shoulders.

“Time to get the little mommy home,” he whispered for her ears alone.

She frowned at him, knowing it would be absolutely no good whatsoever to rant at him for his bossiness. Who said she wanted to leave? What she wouldn’t give for a little more height and a really authoritative tone right now. Unfortunately she was just too tired to argue. Instead she accepted his outstretched hand that held her gloves, tugged them on and walked obediently to the door.

“I always said he was pushy,” Robyn muttered to her mother as they gathered around.

“It was a lovely evening,” Caitlin murmured, hugging her mother-in-law goodbye. “I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad, too,” Eliza whispered back. “I just wish I had some free time to discuss that girl with you. Mary something, isn’t it?” She frowned. “We need to get cracking on some plans for her and that shy young man. It’s just that I’ve been so busy lately. Jordan’s looking after you, isn’t he?”

There was an odd look on Eliza’s face that Caitlin didn’t understand. But there wasn’t a lot of time to
think about it and she brushed the nagging questions aside. Eliza was involved in her own life. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted?

“I’ve tried to make sure he gets over there every day to check up on you. It gives him something to do and then we know you’re okay. Otherwise he’d come over here and eat all my pie.” Eliza’s bland smile made Caitlin giggle.

“He thinks no one noticed,” she whispered.

“Of course he does. But mothers always notice.” Robyn hugged her too.

“If you need me, you just call, Caitlin. I’d come over more often myself, but I just can’t spare the time right now. Besides, you’ve got Jordan.” Eliza said it triumphantly, as if the very idea thrilled her. “Since he’s home, he can lend a hand. I know he doesn’t mind and there’s so much to do in the church. It’ll soon be Thanksgiving!”

“Don’t forget, Mom, I’m doing the pumpkin pies for our dinner,” Robyn announced, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“That’s nice, dear. Don’t forget to put the spices in this year, will you?” Eliza glanced over her shoulder to be sure her daughter heard, then turned back to Caitlin.

“Of course, Caitlin, if you need something moved or rearranged, Jordan can help with that, too. He has plenty of muscles and they need a good workout now and then. He does far too much sitting around, staring at those computers of his. It’s not healthy.”

“I do work out!” Jordan frowned, affronted by this
slur against his physique. “And I’m very healthy. Aren’t I, Dad?”

Stan shrugged. “I don’t think it’s healthy to eat so much pie that you try to hide the dishes,” he quipped as he leaned down to kiss Caitlin’s cheek. “Bye, dear. Don’t feed Jordan, okay? He’s getting a pot belly.”

“I am not.” But he couldn’t resist checking his midsection in the hall mirror in spite of the smothered laughter. “You guys, I am perfectly healthy!”

“If you say so, dear.” Eliza ignored his grumpy tones. Instead she focused on Caitlin, wrapping a scarf around her throat. She buttoned the top button firmly and then stood back to admire her work.

“There, now. At the first sign of labor, you call
me,
Caitlin. Jordan will be no help at all. He’s not good at handling pain.” She winked a big blue eye at the officious hand her son had wrapped beneath Caitlin’s elbow. She didn’t lower her voice at all. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“No.” Caitlin agreed with a smug little smile. “It wouldn’t be fair to let Jordan know he’s not great at everything.” She smiled at his snort of disgust.

The girls all wished her goodbye. As Natasha hugged her, she whispered, “We didn’t overwhelm you, did we?”

So that’s why she and Olivia had come later than the others. They’d been worried about her. Caitlin felt a nice steady glow of love inside.

They left the house with good wishes and demands for a return engagement ringing in their ears.

“I hope they didn’t wear you out,” Jordan’s deep
voice broke into her musings as they walked to the car.

Caitlin rubbed her abdomen absently, wondering why the baby always chose late at night to exercise. Jordan held open the door and she climbed inside, glad to relax against the seat. “Of course not. I like your family, Jordan. I’ve missed Robyn and Natasha and Olivia.”

His dark eyes studied her solemnly, his voice softly mocking. “They’ve been there all along, Lyn. All you had to do was phone.”

There was no condemnation. He simply closed her door, walked around and climbed inside as if nothing untoward had happened. The engine started on the first try and soon they were moving, slipping into traffic without difficulty.

“I know it.” She threaded her fingers together. “It’s my own fault I’ve been alone. I guess I thought I deserved it.” As she said the words, Caitlin realized how lonely she had been for the friendly banter and warm friendship that was so much a part of the Andrews family.

They both fell silent as Jordan negotiated the car through the busy streets. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. More of a companionable pause in the conversation. A short time later they were pulling into the driveway of her home.

Once inside, she slipped her feet into a pair of soft terry slippers, enjoying the snug feel of the soft fabric against her cold toes. Tomorrow she’d buy a new pair of warm, sturdy winter boots, she decided, hanging
up her coat and closing the closet door as a waft of fresh cedar filled the hall.

“I’ll light a fire, shall I?” Jordan stood inside her living room, patiently waiting for her answer.

“Yes, please.” She smiled as he walked over to the big stone fireplace and removed the wrought iron screen. “I like having a fire.”

Caitlin glanced around the room, admiring the hominess. There was something about coming back to Wintergreen that cheered her up, warmed her soul. Was it because she knew the others were here, that she wouldn’t be alone? Or was it, she wondered guiltily, because she’d run away from the place where Michael had lived, laughed and loved? Was she trying to escape her past?

Sinking gratefully into the comforting depths of the sofa, Caitlin lifted her legs onto a nearby hassock. She sighed with relief.

“Problem?” Jordan turned from his kneeling position in front of her fireplace. The flames licked at the paper and kindling he’d laid.

“Just calisthenics time.” She smiled. “This kid always chooses the evening to start bouncing around. I hope it’s not a precursor of things to come.”

She glanced back at him shyly only to find Jordan’s dark gaze fixed on the tiny movements outlined on her abdomen by the thin fabric of her top. As he stared, Caitlin thought she detected a flicker of something in his eyes. Longing?

“Do you want to feel him?” she asked without
thinking, totally unprepared for his immediate response.

“Yes,” he agreed rapidly, sliding the grate into place before striding over to where she sat. He squatted down beside her, his face telegraphing his discomfiture, letting her know he wasn’t quite sure of the next move.

Caitlin grasped his big hand in hers and placed it over the rise of her tummy while her eyes remained glued to his face. The baby chose that precise moment to deliver a walloping belt.

Jordan sucked in his breath, his eyes swiveling to hers. Caitlin couldn’t help but grin at the wonder on his face.

“That’s just a warm-up,” she told him solemnly.

“Does it hurt?” His dark head tilted to one side as he stared at her through the clear lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Uh-uh,” she denied, sucking in a breath as her abdomen contracted into a hard lump. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, breathing in and out rhythmically. “Just kind of like a cramp.”

Jordan’s hand moved in a gentle circle. His voice was so soft, so gentle and full of love, Caitlin barely heard the words as he spoke to his niece or nephew. The voice was mesmerizing and hypnotic, brimming with compassion. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

“Whoa, there, tiger. Your mama has had a long day. Take it easy now and get some sleep.” His hand kept up the gentle, soothing stroke until the contraction
had vanished. The baby gave one more vigorous poke before settling down.

“That’s the way. Sleepy time. Good baby.” His deep voice died away.

Caitlin opened her eyes to find his face peering into hers, his lips mere inches away. A look of stunned wonder held his dark eyes wide.

“It’s a tiny little miracle,” he whispered. “Too fantastic to understand. Thank you for sharing it with me.” His lips grazed her cheek for just a second before he moved away, surging to his feet with leashed energy.

Caitlin sat frozen, afraid to move. Afraid that if she did, she would fling her arms around Jordan’s wide shoulders and bawl her heart out.

It hurt, it hurt so much. To know that if he’d offered just then, she’d have let Jordan into her life, no questions asked. What was wrong with her? How could she betray Michael and his memory like this? How could she even think of Jordan as this baby’s father? Was she so weak, she’d lean on anyone, rather than get through this herself?

The questions bit at her like condemning ice pellets, demanding that she face the broil of emotions inside. Caitlin refused to listen any longer. She needed a diversion. When Jordan offered to make tea, she agreed. As he walked toward the kitchen, she got up to listen to the answering machine and hopefully regain some control.

“Caitlin, it’s Garrett Winthrop. I’d like to speak to
you. In private, if you can manage it. Call me, please?”

“Caitlin, it’s Beth. He called again and he’s really upset. Oh, Cait, what am I going to do?”

One more beep.

“Mrs. Andrews? This is Ferd’s Music. Uh, it’s about those songs you asked for, the ones your aunt had. The only way we can get those songs anymore is on some old, secondhand records. Not too many people want CDs of that stuff and, like I told you before, we’re not up on that old time music.” A pause. “So do you think you want old records or what? Should I keep on looking?”

By the sound of his voice, Ferd Weatherby thought he was dealing with a woman two bricks short of a load. And maybe he was. What made her think Clay Matthews would do any better dancing to old music?

Caitlin met Jordan’s careful scrutiny when he returned with her brown Betty teapot. He poured out two cups, set one down on the coffee table and motioned her to sit. The other he carried with him to his chair.

“Who left you those messages?”

“My, er, projects. They, um, want my help.”

“Projects? As in more than one?” he queried, one eyebrow tilted upward “I thought it was just Matthews.”

“It is. Or it was. Now Garrett Winthrop wants to see me, and Beth needs to talk. They used to be an item once.”

She took a sip of the tea he’d poured, grimaced, then quickly returned the cup to its saucer.

“Is something wrong? I thought you liked sweet tea?”

Though she searched his eyes, there wasn’t a hint of malice there. That meant this disgusting concoction had to be an accident.

“Yes, I, er, I do.” She left the cup where it was, barely able to swallow after the syrupy mouthful she’d just imbibed. “Now about Clay. I was wondering if you’d help me out.”

He gave her an odd look. “Help you with Clayton Matthews?”

“Well, sort of. I want to have a party, a kind of housewarming. And I thought it would be fun to invite a group of people.”

“Such as?”

“Well, Maryann and Beth will already be here, after all, they live here now. And Amy, and Beth’s sister Ronnie. It can be their housewarming, too. And I want to invite Clay because he’s my friend.” She opened her eyes wide and refused to look guilty. “He is!”

“Uh-huh.”

“And Garrett and Beth always used to get along.”

“How about Peter…”

“No!” she wailed and then realized how strange that sounded. “Uh, maybe next time, Jordan. I don’t want too many people around. Especially with me in this condition, I mean.” Her cheeks heated when he met her gaze and held it.