Czytaj książkę: «Falling for the Mom-to-Be»

Chapter One

April

“I can’t be.” Annie stared at the results with blurry eyes.

Fifteen years she’d been married to Jack. Ten of those years they’d tried to have a baby with no success. She’d switched to an organic diet, tried herbal remedies, fertility pills and shots that had made her sick, but nothing had worked.

Five years ago, she quit the ballet troupe in Grand Rapids and moved north with Jack to Maple Springs and set up shop as a dance instructor. Annie had gained a little weight since then but never enough. She’d never conceived. She’d accepted her fate and moved on.

But Jack had never stopped hoping.

Annie grabbed the box and reread the instructions. She’d followed them implicitly. How hard was it? She glanced at the test strip. The symbol was definitely showing a plus sign instead of a negative. And that plus sign grew darker.

Her stomach turned over. “Oh, Jack...”

Was this God’s idea of a cruel joke? All these years they’d tried and failed. According to this test, they’d finally succeeded. But Jack would never see his own child. She closed her eyes, remembering the romantic Valentine’s getaway they’d enjoyed at a ski resort near Traverse City. Neither of them skied, but Annie had been given a gift certificate from one of her clients for Christmas.

Was that when— If so, in a few months her belly would show and her in-laws would be heartsick when they found out. It’d be like losing Jack all over again if something went wrong.

Annie rubbed her temples. Jack’s parents lived fifteen miles away in the town with the big grocery store. It’s why she and Jack had chosen Maple Springs—close and yet far enough away. That and Jack had loved ice fishing and snowmobiling with Matthew during the off-season.

Annie had a hunch her in-laws were relieved they didn’t need to deal with her now that their son was gone. Another twist of fate. Becoming grandparents would no doubt bring their paths back together. Marie was bound to be impossible. She’d never approved of anything Annie did. Annie was a dancer. It didn’t matter that she’d been a professional ballerina, she might as well have come off the Vegas strip.

Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks as she sat there, test still in hand. A knock at the front door made her jump.

“Annie?”

She stood at the sound of her friend, Ginger, coming inside. Annie blew her nose with a tissue and then threw the early pregnancy test into the powder-room trash can. Quickly, she washed her hands and left.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Annie peeked out of the window into her backyard. Early daffodils had burst to life after what seemed like years in the deep freeze of a hard northern Michigan winter.

She leaned against the deep porcelain sink she’d found at an antique sale with Jack after they’d bought this house. They’d taken their time remodeling it room by room. Except for the roof. Jack was planning to do that this summer with Matthew’s help.

Matthew...

The kiss they’d shared haunted her still. She might as well have a scarlet letter sewn across her heart reminding her how she’d betrayed Jack’s memory. Matthew’s embrace had been gentle when he awkwardly patted her back while she’d cried. The poor guy. Another poke to the heart from the needle that had stitched on that scarlet letter.

Her friend’s high-heeled footsteps clicked on the tiled floor. “You okay? I know Easter Sunday at church is hard, but when I called this morning and got your answering machine, I got worried.”

Annie sniffed. “I’m fine.”

Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not. What’s going on?”

She felt the tears stinging her eyes again. She’d been so emotional lately and thought it was all about grief, until she threw up and counted backward.

Ginger reached out her hands.

Annie took them, swallowing hard. She had to get a grip, but it felt as if she walked in a dream, like after she’d gotten word of Jack’s death. In the weeks that had followed, she used to wander around in a daze. She’d often wake with a start, heart racing with fear before the pain came when reality hit that Jack was gone.

“I’m, ah...”

Ginger cocked her head. “Maybe you should sit down and tell me. You look a little flushed.”

Annie slumped into a chair and ran her finger along the grooves of her kitchen table. The burden didn’t feel quite so heavy when it sunk in that she was finally going to have a baby. Something Jack had wanted for so long. A dream she’d given up on long ago.

Hope swelled and her spirits lifted, only to be dashed again. Jack wouldn’t be there. He’d miss the birth of his own child.

Ginger touched her arm. “Annie?”

“I’m pregnant,” she choked out. “A couple months, if I’ve counted right.”

Ginger’s eyes widened. They were big, anyway, but right now her friend’s eyes reminded Annie of the brown speckled eggs she bought at the agricultural co-op a block over. “Oh, Annie, that’s wonderful.”

Annie ran her fingers through her hair, gripping it into a thick bundle at the nape of her neck. “Is it?”

“I’ll make tea.” Ginger went to the stove and grabbed the kettle. Once it was filled with water and settled over a high flame, she turned. “God’s given you a gift.”

A little late. She snorted. “Where was He five years ago with this gift?”

“Annie!” Ginger’s voice dipped low. “Have you told anyone?”

Annie shook her head. “I just found out this morning with one of those store-bought tests. I’ll wait until I see a doctor, to be sure.”

But pregnancy confirmed what was happening to her body. It wasn’t simply grief taking its toll. A new threat surfaced. One that scared her far more than raising a child alone. “I’m forty years old, Gin. What if I can’t carry this baby to term?”

Ginger smiled. “You will. You can do this.”

“I hope so.” That was an understatement.

Annie grabbed ceramic mugs from the cupboard. The teakettle’s whistle blew, piercing the air. She filled her silver tea ball with loose leaves and tossed it in the pot. Then poured in hot water and let the tea steep all while the challenges of the future ahead flashed through her mind.

Annie slumped back in her chair. “I never considered raising a baby on my own. But I’ve got Jack’s life insurance and the dance studio. I can bring a baby there, so I won’t need to pay for day care for a while at least. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

If Annie repeated that a few times, would she eventually believe it?

“Don’t forget Jack’s parents.”

She gave her friend a sharp look. “I was trying to do just that.”

Ginger laughed. She knew all about Annie’s issues with her mother-in-law. “You know they’ll help.”

Annie looked at the pretty young woman who owned the shop where she bought her spices and loose tea and nodded. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

They went to the same church and had always been friendly, but Ginger had become a close friend after Jack died. After her aunt and sister returned to their homes in Arizona, Ginger had been the one holding out a safety ring when Annie thought she’d drown.

She still treaded water. Some days she’d slide under the waves and some days she’d float above them. With a baby on the way, she’d need to start floating way more than sinking. It’s what Jack would expect of her. He’d want her to be happy.

May

Matthew Zelinsky walked along the downtown streets of his hometown where cottages lined the small harbor dug into the shoreline of northern Lake Michigan. The month of May meant that summer homes were finally opened up with cheery flowers dripping from their window boxes. The same went for gift shops clustered on Main Street. Even though he’d grown up here in Maple Springs, Michigan, the beauty of the area was never lost on him.

Some things never changed. Others changed too much. He missed Jack, his captain and friend. The new captain—Wyatt Williams was his name—was okay, but it wasn’t the same. It’d never be the same again.

Matthew stepped out of the warm sunshine into the funky spice shop where Annie liked to buy her tea. The place was crowded. Summer residents had descended into the resort town a few days before Memorial Day weekend with its parade, craft fair and chicken BBQ.

Glancing at the line of big glass jars holding what looked like dried up weeds, he waited his turn. Was this the right thing to give a woman who regretted the kiss they’d shared?

Roses were out. Way too romantic. He was pretty sure Annie wanted none of that. She didn’t eat real chocolate, either, and he refused to buy carob. He wouldn’t know where to find the stuff. Chocolate implied romance, too, and he wasn’t sure that’s where he should go.

He had his regrets, as well. He wouldn’t walk out on Annie as he’d done at the funeral. He didn’t need to buy her anything but wanted Annie to know that this time, he’d be there if she needed him. Jack would want him to look out for her.

What would Jack think of him kissing his wife?

“Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife...”

Matthew had learned his ten commandments as a kid and could recite them easily enough, but the last one took on new meaning. What kind of guy kissed a grieving widow a week after her husband’s funeral?

The sounds of laughter erupted as more folks came inside. His turn had come and he stepped up to the counter.

The owner, Annie’s friend, looked up. “Hi, Matthew. Welcome back.”

“Hey, Ginger.”

Jack and Annie had tried to fix him up with her, but Matthew hadn’t been interested. No surprise there. Work on the Great Lakes took him away for months at a time. Most of the women he’d dated couldn’t handle it. They’d call too often and complain too much when he didn’t call back. There were dead zones out there, but that excuse had never flown very far. Drama. He hated all the drama.

Ginger smiled. “I heard your company hired on a new captain. How is he?”

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. Was that all she’d heard? “He’s okay. And temporary. For now.”

“Good. What can I help you with?”

He perused the shelves loaded with names of spices and herbs he’d never heard of. “I’m looking for some tea.”

She looked surprised. “For you?”

“For Annie.” His cheeks burned. He forced himself to look Ginger in the eye. “You probably know what she likes. Give me whatever you think best.”

Again, she smiled. Not an unkind smile, either. “I have just the thing.”

He relaxed. A little. If Ginger knew anything about that kiss, she wasn’t holding it against him. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He never should have let it go that far, but he’d sensed that Annie needed to be held. He’d needed to hold her, too. But after she’d kissed him back, something had snapped inside and let loose. So here he stood, buying apology tea.

Ginger removed the silver lid of a big glass container and scooped out the contents. The tea leaves looked like what he’d rake up from his parents’ yard complete with little sticks.

“So, what are you up to for the next thirty days of free time?”

He shrugged. He needed to talk to Annie about her roof among other things. “I’m hoping to work on a building project, why?”

“No reason.” She shrugged, too, as if she had something to say. Did she? “It’s nice of you to buy tea for Annie. She’ll enjoy this blend.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah?”

“There’s a little flyer in there with the ingredients and instructions.” She handed him the brown paper bag stamped with The Spice of Life in dark green ink.

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to tell her.” He paid for his purchase and left.

Driving the three blocks from Ginger’s store to Annie’s Craftsman-style bungalow, he rehearsed the argument he’d give her for letting him replace the roof. The past two months had given him lots of time to think. And he’d thought about Annie Marshall practically every day of the sixty spent on his freighter.

He parked, got out and then stood on the walkway. Staring at her front porch, he gripped the paper bag Ginger had given him tighter. Good grief, this was Annie he was coming to see. He’d joked around with her for years, but Jack had always been there, too. Now he wasn’t.

Annie was Jack’s widow now.

He’d called her once in a while in port, but they hadn’t said much. He couldn’t broach the subject of that kiss. A phone call wasn’t the best choice for that awkward conversation. It’d be better to talk to her in person. Like now.

He checked his watch. Ten-thirty was a respectable time to make a morning visit. He knew from what Jack had said that Annie’s weekday dance lessons didn’t start until after lunchtime. Had that changed?

He’d find out soon enough.

He gingerly ascended the wide front porch steps, remembering how he’d helped Jack and Annie move in after they’d bought the place. He’d also helped paint the exterior. She’d picked out the colors and called it sage green. She’d been adamant about pairing it with bright white trim. He and Jack had thought tan would look better.

He smiled, remembering how Annie had managed to get more paint on her than the house. He spotted her small car in the driveway and with a deep breath, knocked on the front door.

Nothing.

So he knocked again before he lost his nerve. Harder.

“Just a minute.” Her voice sounded thin and far away, filtering through the screens of open windows.

It took a few moments before Annie finally opened the door. She wore socks that slouched around her ankles and shorts with a baggy T-shirt. Her thick, dark blond hair looked as though it had been pulled back in a hurry. She had a wet washcloth in her hand. Had she been cleaning?

“Maybe I should have called,” Matthew said.

Her beautiful eyes widened with surprise. “That would have been a good idea.”

He smiled, searched for some smart comment to tease her with and then frowned. She looked pale, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. “Hey, are you okay?”

Her face went white. She grasped the washcloth to her mouth and ran for the bathroom off the kitchen. He could hear her retch from where he stood, still on the porch.

Quietly, he entered and closed the door. “What’s wrong, have you got the flu? I heard it’s going around.” Or was that old news he’d heard before going out on the lakes?

“Must be.”

He could hear the water running as he made his way into the kitchen. He settled the bag of tea from Ginger’s store on the counter and then filled the teakettle with fresh cold water, placed it on the stove and turned up the heat.

He’d never made tea from loose leaves before, but he’d watched Annie do it a thousand times. He fished around the utensil drawer until he found the silver ball he’d seen her use. Then he pulled out the plastic bag of tea and a piece of paper fluttered to the counter.

He glanced at the list of ingredients. Ginger root, spearmint leaf, red raspberry leaf, orange peel, chamomile, peppermint leaf and lemon balm.

What was lemon balm? Might as well be grass clippings.

He opened cupboards and then closed them.

“What are you doing?”

He turned, not liking the wary look in her eyes. “I’m looking for a teapot.”

Her color hadn’t returned. If anything, she looked even paler. And too thin. She’d lost weight. Annie’s hair was wet, like she’d missed when splashing water on her face. She still managed to look beautiful, though. But fragile.

She came forward, her movements lithe and graceful. Annie had a dancer’s body—long and lean even though she wasn’t all that tall. He’d never gone to any of her performances. He wasn’t a ballet kind of guy, but maybe he’d missed something special. She opened a lower cupboard, pulling out a round pink pot, and set it on the counter. Then she grabbed two mugs from an upper cupboard.

He leaned against the sink, out of her way. He would have kept the pot next to the cups considering they got used every day, but then he didn’t have much in the way of dishes at his place so who was he to criticize.

She glanced at him. Wary.

“Thanks.” Okay, yeah. Maybe he was a little afraid of her, too. Of touching her. Look what had happened the last time.

“Thank you for the tea.” She peeked inside the bag and picked up the paper. Her eyes widened and her face flushed.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. Felt her tremble. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine. Yes. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look fine. She looked upset, like she might even cry. He prayed she wouldn’t cry. That night her sobs had torn him in two.

Annie had lost her husband. The husband they both loved. He’d turn back the clock if he could. Matthew wished a thousand times over that he’d taken Jack’s comment about heartburn after dinner more seriously. If only he’d known. But then they’d eaten hot wings for dinner and nearly everyone on board had heartburn.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let Annie down by not keeping Jack safe. Keeping everyone safe on ship was part of his job. His responsibility. He couldn’t help but feel as if he’d failed when it came to Jack.

The teakettle whistle blew through the silence, shattering his thoughts.

Annie bustled forward and turned off the gas.

Matthew touched her arm again. Why’d he keep touching her? “I’ve got this. Sit down before you fall down.”

She looked at him with a raised chin. Annie didn’t like him telling her what to do. Her soft blue eyes had yellow rings around the pupils. Pretty eyes made even prettier framed with thick, dark lashes. She nodded, crumpled up the paper that came with the tea and sat down.

He felt her watchful eyes burning holes into his back as he stuffed the clippings in the silver ball and tossed it into the pot. No doubt she’d jump in if he did it wrong.

Next, he dumped in hot water and settled the lid in place and then set it on the table in front of her. He slid into the opposite chair and handed Annie a mug.

“You want any?”

“Ah, no.” He was a strong coffee kind of guy and he’d already had his fill this morning. Still, he watched her pour herself a cup of the rust-colored water.

She sniffed it, took a tentative sip and then a deep breath. Waited and then another sip.

“Does it help?”

Her eyes flew open wide. “Help what?”

“Your stomach. You just threw up, remember?”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. “Yeah.”

He smiled, at an odd loss for words. He’d never had to try hard to talk to her before. He grabbed the paper ball she’d crumpled and smoothed it back out. The name on the other side smacked hard.

Morning Sickness Tea.

He handed it back to her. “What does this mean?”

Annie looked up like a scared rabbit, ready to dart for cover. “Look, Matthew—”

“Are you going to have a baby?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shrugged.

“Don’t you know for sure?” His voice sounded much too shrill.

Annie looked fierce. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Matthew sat back, stunned. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. Please don’t tell anyone about the baby.”

His gaze narrowed. “Why?”

Her eyes clouded over. “Please?”

He knew how badly Jack had wanted kids. He’d put on a good front with his wife and often acted as if it didn’t matter. But Matthew knew how deep Jack’s disappointment ran. And now, the guy would never see his own kid.

He sighed. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’ll help.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?

Matthew stood up and paced the kitchen. He’d blurted out that offer without thinking, but it felt right. “Starting with the roof—”

“Matthew, please. Don’t do this because you feel guilty over a silly kiss. We were both vulnerable that night.”