Sunday Kind of Love (23 page)

She knew that her mother was concerned, that she wanted to talk, but Gwen wouldn't allow herself to be distracted from what was really important. Right now, she needed to go inside, take off her two-day-old clothes, shower, and get to work.

“I'll be fine,” she answered.

Meredith sighed softly. “He wasn't right for you anyway,” she said. “What you need is a man who will walk by your side, not tower over you.”

To Gwen's ears, her mother's words sounded more than a little familiar, given that she'd spoken something similar herself only a few moments before. She knew that Kent was the type who would always want to dominate the spotlight, that her career and success would always take a backseat to his. But Hank was different, a partner upon whom she could depend.

“Maybe you should lie down for a while,” Meredith suggested. “Things might look better when you wake up.”

Her conversation with Kent
had
exhausted her, but Gwen didn't dare take her mother's advice. If she closed her eyes, she was certain she'd sleep for days.

“I can't,” she said, offering a weak smile. “I need to be strong. I just have to keep going.”

The older woman's lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. Meredith reached out and pulled her daughter into an embrace. Even as Gwen returned the affection, she knew that her mother had misunderstood what she'd said. Meredith had thought she was talking about breaking up with Kent.

But that wasn't it. Not by a mile.

What happened next would determine her future with Hank. Talking with Myron had brought her a step closer, but there was still a long way to go. She couldn't stop now. Maybe she'd do the right thing and bring herself and Hank closer together. Or maybe she would fail and ruin what they'd only just started to build. Gwen didn't know what the future held.

Either way, it was time for her to do her part to make it come to pass.

“Oh, man,” Skip said. “I'm pretty sure
that
ain't what you wanted to see.”

Hank didn't answer. He was too busy grinding his teeth.

After being rousted from bed, Skip had picked Hank up in his car and the two of them had driven into Buckton to look for Gwen. After searching aimlessly for a while, they'd finally spotted Hank's truck headed toward her parents' house and had followed at a distance, curious as to what she would do. At the corner before her block, Skip had pulled over, the engine idling, leaving them a good view down her street. Gwen had parked, gotten out, and started talking with someone on the porch. Hank hadn't known who it was but hoped it was her mother. His heart had skipped a beat when Kent came sauntering down the stairs.

It felt like it'd stopped altogether when the big-city lawyer pulled Gwen into his arms.

“Drive,” Hank said.

Skip looked at him, then back at the couple down the street. “You sure? Maybe you oughta do somethin'.”

“There's been enough fighting in front of that house.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Just get going!” Hank snapped.

Skip stopped arguing. “All right, all right,” he said, pulling away from the curb and racing down the street. “You're the boss.”

As fast as his friend drove, Hank's thoughts raced faster.

What did I just see?

Even after what happened last night, am I not enough for her?

Has Gwen gone back to Kent?

“I can't believe you're just gonna turn your back on that,” Skip said, unable to hold his tongue. “If I stumbled across the girl I was sweet on in some other guy's arms, she wouldn't get off that easy.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hank asked, his head starting to hurt.

“Confront 'em! Give her a piece of your mind! It ain't right for Gwen to be treatin' you like that!”

Skip didn't know the half of it.

Hank hadn't told his friend the whole story of what had happened between him and Gwen the night before. Skip knew that they had found Myron unconscious on the floor and that Gwen had spent the night at the house, but he didn't know that they'd made love. Hank could only imagine Skip's reaction if he did.

Right now, the only thing Hank could think to do was give Gwen space. Clearly she was confused about her feelings, both for him and for Kent. As hard as it would be, he'd go home, try to lose himself in his work, and wait for her to come back with his truck. Then they would talk.

Hank could only hope that he'd like what she had to say.

G
WEN STOOD WITH
her back to the shower's spigot, her eyes closed. Hot water pounded her neck and shoulders. Soap slid down her skin as it rushed toward her feet before finally swirling down the drain. Steam billowed, clouding the windowpanes. All the while, her mind raced, weaving the tapestry of a story.

By the time Gwen shut off the water, she was ready to write.

She quickly toweled her hair and dressed, then sat down in front of the typewriter. Gwen fed in a clean sheet of paper and took a deep breath before getting to work. Words poured out of her as fast as she could type them, her fingers practically dancing across the keys. Before she knew it, she was finished.

And now let's see what I have…

Whatever optimism she'd had was soon dashed. Nothing was as she'd wanted it. Gwen wadded up the pages and threw them in the trash. She put more paper into the typewriter and tried again.

Her second go-around was better, but she still wasn't satisfied.

So she did it again.

And again.

And again, until the rejected pages overflowed the wastebasket and were strewn across the floor, like an odd arrangement of flowers.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth drafts, Meredith brought her lunch; Gwen was thankful that her mother didn't ask what she was doing.

Finally, after so much typing that her fingers hurt, she read a version that she was happy with. Gwen got out of her chair and paced the room. Early-afternoon sunlight spilled across the floor as she went over what she had written, weighing every word.

On those two pages, Gwen laid out the truth about the night Pete Ellis died, just as Hank had told it. She'd added quotes from Myron, who had agreed to her proposal and confessed from his hospital bed. Her article also explained the motivation for Hank's lie: that he'd taken the blame for the accident in order to protect his father. What she held in her hands was a bombshell.

All she had to do to make it explode was take it to Sid Keaton.

For the first time since she'd woken up that morning, Gwen's resolve faltered. A sliver of doubt crept into her mind. Was she doing the right thing in revealing Hank's family's deepest, darkest secret? Would it help Hank as she intended, or would it make matters worse? How would he react? Would he be angry with her? She'd been all set to march her pages over to the
Bulletin
in the hopes that they would be published, but now she wasn't quite so sure.

Downstairs, the phone rang. Moments later, her mother answered.

“Gwendolyn, dear,” she called from below. “It's for you.”

Descending the staircase, Gwen's first thought was that it was Hank, wondering why she'd left the way she had, driving off in his truck and not bothering to tell him she was going. She'd meant to call him before taking a shower, but with so much swimming around in her head, she had forgotten. She knew that they needed to talk, that she had to tell him what she was doing, but she feared his reaction. Whatever they would say to each other needed to wait a while longer. Her second guess, more of a worry, was that it was Kent calling from the depot. Maybe he was making one last attempt at reconciling. That, or he wasn't done cursing her name.

But she was wrong on both counts.

“Gwen!” a man shouted when she picked up the phone. “It's me! I mean, it's John Fiderlein! You know, Sandy's husband!”

“What's wrong?” Gwen asked, certain from the frantic tone of his deep voice that something bad had happened.

“Sandy's in labor! She's gonna have the baby!”

“Now?!” she cried.

“It came on real sudden,” John explained. “One second she was in the kitchen finishin' lunch, and the next she could hardly stand, she was crampin' so bad. I drove her to the hospital just as fast as I could, but I started to worry she was gonna have the baby right there in the backseat!”

Sandy's husband's love for his wife was so obvious that it brought tears to Gwen's eyes. “I'm so happy for you both!”

“Then get over here.”

“Wait, what? Me? You want me to be at the hospital?”

“Sandy sure does!” he said with a loud laugh. “Right before they took her into the delivery room, she made me promise to call you. She said that you're like a sister to her and she wants you to be here when the baby's born. It's like Sandy's always sayin',” he added, “the more the merrier!”

“I'll be right there,” she said, her thoughts about Hank, Kent, even her newspaper article all momentarily forgotten.

As quickly as she could, Gwen told her mother what was happening. Then she flew up the stairs to gather everything she'd need. Within minutes, she was out the front door, running toward Hank's truck.

Sandy is having her baby!

For the second time that day, Gwen entered Buckton's hospital. Unlike her first visit, when she'd taken Myron Ellis's incredible confession about the death of his son, this trip was one of celebration. She raced up the stairs two at a time before breathlessly bursting into the waiting room.

“Gwen!” a deep voice boomed.

John Fiderlein embraced her. He was a big man, broad across the chest and shoulders, seemingly three times the size of his wife. Even as a boy, John had been a head taller than his peers. He was always the first chosen for sports, the last anyone would ever want to fight. But inside, he was as gentle as a lamb, kind, considerate, and quick to laugh. He had taken one look at Sandy from across the playground and been instantaneously smitten. Since then, he'd never left her side, loving her unconditionally, wanting nothing more than to build a family with the girl of his dreams.

Today, with the birth of their child, it would happen.

Many of the other seats in the waiting room were filled with faces Gwen recognized, including Sandy's parents and John's younger brother. They were all people she'd once known well but hadn't seen for years. She briefly spoke to each of them, offering her congratulations, before returning her attention to John.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Just fine,” he answered. “Sandy's the one doin' all the work.”

“Are you nervous?”

John chuckled. “Not in the least,” he told her, while pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe sweat from his brow.

Just then, a door opened and a nurse stepped out. John practically leaped at her, hoping for a bit of news, looking like a dog that'd been waiting all day for its master to come home, but the woman shook her head.

“Nothing yet,” she said, then set off on her rounds.

John's brother laughed. “He's been like that since he got here. It's like he's got a blister on his backside and can't stand to sit down!”

“Well, maybe I am a
little
nervous,” John admitted.

“You're just excited to become a dad,” Gwen told him.

“You don't know the half of it,” he replied. “I've been dreamin' about this day for as long as I can remember. Think of all the fun we can have! Throwin' the baseball, goin' fishin' down at the river, trompin' through mud puddles—all the stuff I liked doin' when I was a kid.”

Gwen thought back to the conversation she'd had with Sandy in front of the drugstore. Her friend had said then that her husband was sure they were having a boy; from the way John was talking, describing activities that weren't ideally suited for a young lady, he was still convinced.

“What if Sandy has a girl?” she asked.

John snorted and shook his head. “Won't happen,” he answered.

“But what
if
?” Gwen insisted. “It's just a flip of a coin either way, you know. One side you have a boy, but if it's the other…”

“Then she'll be the biggest tomboy Buckton's ever seen!” he announced enthusiastically, but then grew serious. “Truth is, for as much as I go on about havin' a boy, I won't be disappointed if it goes the other way. All that matters is that Sandy and the baby are healthy.”

John's heartfelt declaration of love for his wife and as-yet-unborn child moved Gwen. Here was a man for whom family truly mattered. It made her think about the relationship growing between her and Hank. Could they have a similar future? Was it possible that one day she'd be in the delivery room, while Hank nervously paced outside, waiting for their baby to be born? The thought made her pulse race, but in a good way.

“So did you ever talk to Hank Ellis?” John asked out of the blue.

Gwen was caught off guard and couldn't answer.

“Sandy told me what happened,” he explained, seeing her confusion. “She said he dove into the Sawyer after you.”

“He saved my life.”

John nodded. “You know, I always liked Hank. Unlike most folks in town, I've never been angry at him for Pete's death. I just pity him, I reckon,” he explained. “Who can't feel for a fella who lost someone like that?”

My father, for one
.

“I think Hank's a little misunderstood,” Sandy's husband added.

“More than you know.”

The pages Gwen had written were now folded up in her handbag. She still had plenty of doubts about what to do with them, but John's opinion of Hank gave her hope. Maybe there were more people in Buckton who felt the same way. If they knew the truth about the accident, would they look at Hank differently? Would they be able to understand why he'd lied? Would they be willing to give him another chance?

Just then, the delivery room door opened. Once again, John jumped at the sound. A different nurse walked out, smiling broadly.

“Congratulations, Mr. Fiderlein,” she said. “You're now the father of a baby girl.”

Without hesitation, John began to whoop and holler, running from person to person, unable to stay still as he was overcome by happiness. He acted like it was his birthday, Christmas morning, and the moment his favorite sports team won the championship all rolled into one. One moment he was bear-hugging his brother, the next he was spinning his mother-in-law around the room, tears of joy streaming down his face.

There wasn't a dry eye in the room, Gwen's included.

“She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen.”

Gwen stood beside Sandy's bed, holding her friend's brand-new daughter. Kelly Fiderlein slept soundly, swaddled tight in a blanket. She weighed next to nothing, but Gwen cradled her close, as if she was the most precious jewel in the whole world. Everything about her was small and delicate, from her button nose to her pursed mouth and squeezed-shut eyes, but especially her fingers; they opened and closed in no discernable rhythm, as if they were being manipulated by a puppeteer. Deep inside, Gwen felt something stir, a desire for a child of her own, a chance to be a mother, to build a family of her own with Hank Ellis. Looking down at Kelly, rocking her gently, Gwen couldn't stop smiling.

“Do you like her name?” Sandy asked.

“I love it.”

“I know John had his heart set on a boy he could call Junior. I hope he wasn't
too
disappointed.”

Gwen shook her head. “There's no chance of that,” she said as Kelly's eyes fluttered open, sparkling a brilliant blue, then quickly shut. “You should've seen him out in the waiting room. No one has
ever
been that happy.”

Her friend laughed. “That sounds like when he first came in here. He couldn't stop bouncing around the room or lifting the nurses up off the ground,” Sandy explained. “He didn't stop until one of the doctors got after him. I think he was afraid that John would be too rough with the baby. But when they brought Kelly in, he held her like she was a china plate, like he was afraid he'd break her. Here was this bear of a man and his itty-bitty daughter. It was quite the sight.”

“So how are you feeling?” Gwen asked.

“Like I got run over by a truck,” Sandy answered. “Twice.”

Though Gwen still thought her friend was beautiful, glowing in the aftermath of childbirth, she had to admit that Sandy looked exhausted, too. Her hair was mussed up, a few strands sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she'd stifled a couple of yawns since Gwen had entered the room. In short, she looked exactly like one would expect, given that she'd just delivered a baby.

Sandy frowned. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Why not?” Gwen asked.

“Because I don't want to scare you,” she answered. “You might want to do this yourself one day.”

“Don't worry. I've already heard all the horror stories.”

Her friend's eyes narrowed. “You have?”

Gwen nodded. “My mother,” she explained. “She used to say that giving birth to me is the reason I don't have any siblings.”

“It
does
hurt,” Sandy acknowledged. “But it's worth it.” She looked at the bundle of joy in her old friend's arms. “You know, it's kind of strange,” she admitted. “I thought I was prepared to see my baby for the first time, but when the doctor held her up, my whole life changed. It was both scary and exciting. Just like that, I realized that I wasn't living only for myself and John, but for that little girl, too.”

There was a knock on the door. A nurse entered to take the baby for a while so that Sandy could get some rest. Gwen very reluctantly handed Kelly over, missing her before she was even gone. “I should go, too,” she offered.

“Wait, Gwen,” Sandy said. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine,” she lied, not wanting to burden her friend with her troubles, especially at a time like this.

Sandy smiled. “I may not have seen you much the last couple of years, but I know you better than almost anybody. I can tell when something's bothering you. Spill it.”

“It can wait,” Gwen said. “The nurse is right. You need to rest.”