Sister's Choice (7 page)

Manning smiled, something he didn’t seem to do very often. He stood and held out his hand to Isaac, giving it a perfunctory shake. Then he shook with Jamie and Kendra.

“First thing we’ll have to do is find you more water,” he told them. “You’ll need a good well for a house this size, but Cash will get you what you need.”

Manning nodded to the group and started toward the door. Jamie followed, as Cash said goodbye to the Taylors.

“I’ll be here for most of the next year,” she said. “I’ll look forward to watching the house go up.”

“Cash won’t disappoint you.”

“You won’t be working on it?”

“He’ll handle most of it.” Manning looked back at Kendra and Isaac. “Isaac looks something like his mother. It jumped out at me first time I met him.”

“I’d forgotten. Kendra said you and his mother were friends growing up here.”

“Rachel Spurlock was nobody’s friend, not the way you mean. She was always something of a loner, but we cared about each other.”

Jamie thought that was a uniquely old-fashioned way of admitting to sexual attraction. She needed to get the complete scoop from Kendra.

Cash joined them, and the two men descended the steps. Jamie waited until they were gone before she rejoined the others.

The girls had gone to bed, and the house was quiet. Kendra and Isaac were getting ready to go to Daughter of the Stars, the bed-and-breakfast where they often spent the night, but Jamie held up a hand to stop them.

“Don’t go yet. I have something for you.”

Kendra brushed off her pants. “Don’t you want some peace and quiet? You must be exhausted.”

“Not yet.” Jamie disappeared into the kitchen; then she came back with a package wrapped in blue and green foil. “I’ve been saving this for the right moment. It’s for both of you.”

Isaac took the package. “You don’t think the house design was enough? You’ve already given us so much.”

Jamie heard what he didn’t say. Isaac rarely mentioned the surrogacy, as if by doing so he would jinx it, or perhaps admit how much it meant to him.

“This is just something you’ll need to help you understand all the steps along the way,” she said. “The more you know, the easier it will seem.”

Isaac offered the package to Kendra, who took it and began to untie the ribbon. “We ought to celebrate what Manning said about the plans,” Kendra said. “I knew it already, but it was great to hear Manning give his opinion tonight. You must feel wonderful.”

“Actually, I do,” Jamie said, “although you two have the wrong project in mind. You know how long it takes to build a house. I’m thinking about something shorter term.”

She paused, and when they didn’t try to guess, she broke into a grin. “Come on! Use your imaginations. Can’t you guess what I was doing when you were stacking the dishwasher?”

Kendra stood very still, aware at last what Jamie was about to say, then she tore the remainder of the wrapping and stared at the cover of
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
. “Exactly what are you trying to say?”

“I bought a home pregnancy kit at the drugstore today, even though I wasn’t sure whether I should use it. I was trying to be good and wait for the official verdict from the clinic. But since it’s been almost two weeks since the transfer, I decided to give it a try tonight. I’ve just had a feeling all day that something was going on inside me besides all the meds I’ve had to take. I realized the wait was killing you. I know the doctor said the home tests aren’t always accurate after in vitro, but from everything I’ve read, that’s mostly if you do them too early. So since you were here and we’re all dying to know…”

She put an arm around each of them, pulling them closer. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Her throat clogged, and she tightened her hold on them. Then she swallowed and said the words she’d been wanting to say all evening.

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad. We’re going to have a baby.”

S
ometimes in the morning, before he went off to whatever job site he was working on, Cash stopped by for a cup of coffee, and Grace liked to be ready with something tasty and healthy enough to make it worth her while to do the work. When her grandson chose his own breakfast, he was prone to either black coffee or the full Southern heart-attack-on-a-platter. She had seen him slather enough butter on his grits to lubricate the chassis of Rosslyn and Rosslyn’s entire fleet of pickups.

This morning she had whole-wheat coffee cake made with fresh blueberries picked from bushes Ben had planted not long before he died. That they were bearing so robustly was a sad reminder of how long Ben had been gone. Had she needed one.

She wasn’t sure Cash would stop, but about seven, she heard the familiar rumble of a truck, then the dying of an engine and the slamming of a door. She had three grandsons, two granddaughters and four great-grandchildren, and she didn’t believe in favorites. From the beginning she had struggled to treat them all like the priceless works of God they were. But despite that struggle, she had always been a little closer to Cash. Not because he was Sandra’s—her only daughter’s—although most of the world would think that likely. Just because he was Cash.

This morning he came into the kitchen with his customary swagger. Cash moved as if he owned the world and didn’t give a hoot. The confidence was innate, the indifference a product of too many tears he had swallowed as a young man. Of course, if she told him that, he would deny it. Cash had worked so hard to cultivate his good ol’ boy persona that years ago he had begun to believe it himself.

“Still trying to fatten me up, huh?” He strolled over to kiss Grace’s cheek, then grabbed the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. He held it up in question.

“Had mine,” she said. “Piddling poor, too, if you want to know. Half a cup, mostly decaf, filled to the brim with skim milk. I do not recommend annual physicals, dear. No doctor has ever said, ‘Oh, please, be sure to drink an extra cup of coffee every day, Mrs. Cashel. And don’t forget to pour in the whipping cream.’”

“We could probably find you one like that if we looked hard enough and paid him under the table.”

“Growing old is not for sissies.”

“Good thing, because you’re doing it so beautifully, Granny Grace.”

Her heart warmed. She did love this boy.

She watched him stroll over to the crate where little Lucky was making herself right at home. He bent down and spoke soothingly to the fawn, who listened to every word. The last time he’d stopped by, he had taken Lucky out, and Grace had caught them sitting on the sofa, Lucky nestled in his lap. Manning had taught Cash to hunt, a rite of passage for boys in the Valley, but at the final moment, Cash, a crack shot, had somehow always missed every moving target. Manning had never shamed him for it.

Grace still thought Sandra had done well for herself when she batted her pretty green eyes in Manning Rosslyn’s direction all those years ago, even if he was a good bit older than her daughter.

“I’m having visitors this morning,” she told him.

Cash joined her as she cut the coffee cake, sliding a large piece on to a plate for him, then she helped herself to less. She hoped that the berries had been ripe enough to do their job. Squeezed between her thumb and index finger, they had seemed that way, but it wasn’t the most reliable of tests.

“Who’s visiting?” He cut a piece and popped it into his mouth. “It’s great,” he said. “Even if you probably sneaked wheat germ and flax seed and Lord knows what else into it.”

“Glad it passes muster. And Jamie and the girls are coming up to see Lucky. You could stay and visit with us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

She wished she could read the expression hidden behind his coffee mug. “I like her. And those little girls? She’s awfully young to have them, but she’s a superior mother, isn’t she? Just from the little I’ve seen, I can tell she lets them be who they are.”

“Does she walk on water, too?”

She smiled. “Enthusiasm is a good trait, dear, not one to make fun of.”

“I just saw her last night. Dad and I went over plans for the new house they’re going to build down by the river.”

“They?”

“Her sister and her husband. The property and the cabin belong to the Taylors.”

“Do you know why Jamie’s living way out here with the girls?”

“Kendra, that’s Mrs. Taylor, said something about Jamie and the girls wanting to be nearby and enjoy family, now that she’s finished with college. They’re planning to stay for the next school year, I think. Maybe she’s trying to find herself. I don’t know.”

Grace leaned forward. “You could find out.”

Cash set down his cup and leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “How many projects do you need, Granny Grace? You’ve got your quilts, the orchard, this house, whipping the family into shape so they see eye to eye with you. And now you’re playing matchmaker?”

“I said nothing about matches. I just worry about a stranger in our midst, living in the middle of nowhere with nobody to look in on her now and then.”

“I’m going to be building a house right under her nose. I just put up a playhouse for her children. Do you want me to move in with her?”

Grace considered. “Let me give that some thought.”

Cash grinned. “The devil’s going to grab you and drag you down below, Grace Cashel.”

“Your grandfather told me as much, you know. But I’m still here, and he isn’t. What does that say?”

“It says Grandpa Ben is up in heaven playing his harp so loud that the devil’s too annoyed to bother with you. That’s why he went first.”

She liked the sound of that. “If anybody could do that, it would be Ben.”

Cash finished the last swigs of his coffee and stood. “I’ve got to be halfway to Winchester in twenty minutes. Mind if I take my coffee cake with me?”

“You do that, and don’t you stop along the road for country ham and fried eggs.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek in farewell. “Don’t go falling in love with those little girls. In a year or less they’ll be out of here, and going off somewhere so their mama can finish her degree and get a job in some top-notch architect’s firm. We’ll probably never see them again.”

“That should make Jamie Dunkirk the perfect woman for you.”

He shook his head, plopped his coffee cake on a napkin and headed out the door.

Grace listened as his truck roared to life again a moment later.

“Score one for Grace Cashel. Tell
that
to your angel band, Ben.” She cut herself another slice of cake and enjoyed every crumb.

Jamie stared at the skylight directly above her bed. Once Kendra and Isaac had gone last night, she had spent hours worrying that she’d sent their hopes soaring for nothing. The pregnancy test had been absolutely clear. According to Johnson & Johnson, she was pregnant, but what if she
had
jumped the gun? What if she went into the clinic on Thursday and discovered that under these peculiar circumstances, the home test still wasn’t accurate? What if she wasn’t really pregnant?

Then this morning, after an uneasy night’s sleep, she’d sat up and a wave of dizziness had swept her. Immediately afterward, the dizziness had been followed by a surge of nausea so strong that she’d had to lie back and close her eyes or suffer the consequences.

Pregnant.

She smiled. Pregnant
again
.

Pregnant with somebody else’s baby.

Before offering to carry this baby, she had considered and reconsidered whether she wanted another child of her own. She had known that, if she still yearned for more children to fill her life, perhaps even the son she’d never had, then turning over a baby she had carried for nine months would be doubly difficult. Even if the baby had been conceived outside her body and was technically only her niece or nephew.

That first round of soul searching hadn’t turned up any latent desire to become a mother again, nor—she was relieved to find—had that changed now that she was in the throes of morning sickness. She adored her daughters. She looked forward to watching them grow and establish themselves in the world, but she had no wish to wind up her own child-rearing clock all over again. When all was said and done, Hannah and Alison were the only children she wanted, even if she married someday and had a husband to share the work of raising them.

Technically she was four weeks into the pregnancy, since weeks were calculated by the last menstrual period, whether it was simulated or not. If she carried full-term and not a day more or less, then she had thirty-six weeks ahead of her. The baby would come at the end of February, before the new house was finished, and Kendra and Isaac would take him or her home to Arlington. She would need a plan for herself and the girls.

But there was time for all that. Time to savor bringing a new life into the world.

“Mommy!”

But not much.

She sat up gingerly, hoping the nausea had diminished. The room didn’t spin, and although she didn’t feel like wolfing down the truck driver’s special at the Milestone Restaurant beside the interstate, she thought she would probably be able to handle a cup of coffee.

Then she remembered that a nice cup of fruit tea would have to substitute. Between hormones and giving up cigarettes and coffee, she was surprised she hadn’t already alienated everybody in Virginia.

When she peered over the railing, Alison was staring up at her, as if willing her to materialize. “What is it?” Jamie asked.

“I want strawberries on my cereal.”

“That makes sense.”

“Hannah said no.”

“Why?”

“Dunno.”

“I’ll be right down.” Jamie slid into the robe at the foot of her bed and made the trip to the bathroom without a significant return of the nausea. By the time she joined Alison in the kitchen, the strawberry crisis was readily apparent. Hannah sat at the table with her head in her hands. The green cardboard carton that had held the second quart of strawberries was empty. Last night it had been half-full.

“Apparently I have to stop buying fresh berries, Hannah.” Jamie threw the carton in the trash. “The bathroom’s empty. I suggest you go there immediately. And when you’re done being sick, you can apologize to your sister.”

Hannah took off at a trot.

“I’m sorry about the berries,” Jamie told Alison. “I’ll cut up a peach for your cereal.”

“Hannah’s sick.”

The cabin was small enough that Jamie could affirm that just by sound. With her own stomach in rebellion, she was afraid to go into the bathroom to check on her oldest. Instead she fixed Alison’s cereal and set it on the table. Alison climbed up on the booster seat and started eating. Jamie looked away, not at all sure she could watch her youngest eat while her oldest finished being sick. She went to boil water for tea and hoped for the best.

Two minutes later, a pale Hannah came out of the bathroom, drying her face on a hand towel.

“Feel better?” Jamie asked.

Hannah managed a nod.

“That’s a tough way to learn not to be piggy.”

“I was only going to eat five.” Hannah looked like she was trying not to cry.

Jamie thought back on her own past. “Not everything we like’s good for us. That’s one of the hardest lessons you’ll ever have to learn.”

“Like cigarettes?”

“Like cigarettes. And like strawberries. You may have to stop eating berries altogether, unless you can learn to just eat a few at a time.” She paused, then decided she had to add insult to injury. “Now apologize to Alison, please. You ate her share, not to mention mine.”

Hannah burst into tears. Jamie’s heartstrings were thoroughly tugged, but she stood resolute.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah managed at last.

“I like peaches,” Alison said, not quite understanding what all the fuss was about.

Jamie gave Hannah a casual hug. “That was the right thing to do. Now have a seat. Would you like a slice of toast, or would you rather wait a little while?”

Her daughter sniffed. “Can we still go see Lucky? I won’t be sick anymore.”

“Not until you get something in your stomach. I’ll pour you some apple juice, but I suggest sipping slowly and waiting a little on the toast. You can have a slice right before we leave.”

Forty-five minutes later, they were on the way to Granny Grace’s. The orchard was a half-hour’s drive away. Had Jamie been a bird, she could have gotten there in ten, but the road switched back and forth as they crossed the river at the first available bridge and climbed farther into the mountains.

She was quickly learning to love the Valley. She loved the vast array of greens, the blue-gray mist that rose from the ground in early morning, clouds veiling individual peaks, then falling away as the golden summer sun rose higher to meet them. She liked seeing horses in wildflower-strewn meadows, the glint of sunlight on creeks and river, the pragmatic simplicity of rural architecture. Clematis on mailbox posts. Pansies guarding doorsteps.

Now, as they came to the end of Grace’s directions, she admired the farms set back from the road. Somebody’s border collie came charging down a driveway, and the girls waved and called to it as Jamie shot past in hopes of avoiding a roundup. The dog, who clearly thought he’d done his duty, trotted back up the drive.

Jamie slowed and checked her directions one more time. “Will you help me watch out for the sign, Hannah? It should say Cashel Orchard, but Grace said it’s small and easy to miss. Should be on your side.”

“Cashel? Like Cash?”

“That’s probably where his name comes from.”

Jamie slowed even more until she was almost creeping. Even at that, they nearly missed the sign. Hannah spotted it just as they were pulling past.

“There!” She pointed.

Jamie leaned over to peer out Hannah’s window. The sign hung by one hook when it should have been suspended from two. It was weathered gray, with an apple in the center that was so faded it was almost invisible. Equally faded letters were painted in script.

The sign might be dilapidated, but someone had recently bushhogged and graded the driveway. No limbs hung over the road, and in the distance, Jamie could hear the steady hum of a tractor. She took the turn and drove slowly, watching for rocks and potholes. An unkempt hedge choked with wild grapevines flanked the road, hiding most of what lay beyond it. The road wound to the right and seemed to climb gradually. When they finally came to a clearing, Jamie slowed to a halt and gazed at the farmhouse just ahead of them.