Page 46 of Love Everlasting

“Don’t have to worry about that,” Sam said with a mock scowl. “As far as I’m concerned, your sister is E.F. Hutton, so trust me—when that woman speaks, I listen.”

“Good to hear.” Jack shoved in his chair. “Can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, man, really, and I’ll return the favor, I promise.”

Sam’s mouth hooked. “Naw—just name a kid after me, O’Bryen, because Samuel means ‘heard by God,’ according to your sister, so it looks like He’s answered your prayer. The one about me filling in for you at the camp, that is.” He winked as he picked his book back up. “You’re on your own for the other.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Jack paused, resting his hands on the back of the chair. “I know I ask you this every week and every week you say no, but if you’re ever interested in going to church with Lace and me early on Saturday nights, just say the word, okay?” He grinned. “And I’ll even sweeten the pot if you do, buying you a Cold Stone smoothie every afternoon for a week.” He tapped the chair with both palms. “See you, Sam, and thanks again.”

Jack turned to go, and Sam huffed out a sigh. “Hey—you still play volleyball at your church on Saturday nights?”

Pivoting slowly, Jack cocked his head. “Yeah, once or twice a month, and this Saturday night, in fact. Why? You looking for exercise?”

“Maybe. I told Shannon I might try it one of these days. What time?”

“Seven, after the service, with pizza after the game.” Jack went completely still, as if holding his breath.

Sam nodded. “Thanks, man. No guarantees, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Sure thing, Ham.” Jack raised a palm in a wave and headed for the exit.

“Oh, and, Jack?”

Jack spun around, the look of hope in his eyes enough to make Sam laugh out loud. “Yeah?”

“If I do?” He grinned as he picked up his book with a shake of his head, wondering what on earth he was getting himself into. “Make it a strawberry mango on Monday.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Give me a break, Lace. You’ve been married for all of—what? Ten months?” Cat popped the cork on her fishing rod over and over, emitting a loan groan when she missed a bite. “I mean I want to be an aunt as much as you want to be a mom, but these things take time.” She tossed a peanut in the air and caught it with her mouth.

“Not always,” Lacey said with a glum look, slouched deep in her Adirondack chair next to Cat and Shan as the three of them fished on the O’Bryen’s dock. She breathed in the earthy scent of the marsh and the salty smell of the Skidaway River and sighed. “Your mom said she got pregnant with Jack on the honeymoon.”

“Yeah, well that’s Jack,” Cat said, tone dry as she recast her line in the water. “A chronic overachiever. He probably negotiated with God on his due date.”

Lacey popped her cork once to every three of Cat’s, her interest in fishing as flat as her fertility at the moment. “Can’t argue with you there. When I started dating your brother at sixteen, his idea of a fun date was studying at the library.”

A soft chuckle drifted from Shannon’s lips as she settled back in her chair, rod loose and expression calm, no nervous popping of the cork for her. She got a bite and quietly stood to her feet, hauling in a keeper like it was no big deal. Hooking the fish on her stringer, she dropped it back in the water and then took her time baiting her hook, her heavy haul of fish proof that patience paid off in fishing.

Lacey expelled a silent sigh. And in having babies, too, no doubt.

“How long have you been trying?” Shannon asked, casting her line in a perfect arc over the water, her quiet skill in sports often overshadowed by Cat’s hyper-competitive delivery.

Lacey’s mouth compressed. “Since the honeymoon, and I’ve read that after a year of trying, you should see a fertility specialist, so we’re almost there.” She huffed out another sigh, the mournful sound of a loon in harmony with her own melancholy mood. “And I had high hopes for the Bahamas, but nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” Cat whipped her rod up and recast her line with a soft whoosh, slipping Lacey an impish smile. “Well, that’s your problem then, goof. Something has to ‘happen’ for it to ‘happen.’” Her brows did a Groucho Marx. “Or didn’t Jack learn that in med school?”

Lacey rolled her eyes and popped a peanut off Cat’s head. “You are such a goober, you know that?” A secret smile skimmed across her lips as she popped her line. “Trust me, there was so much happening on that trip, we barely got any sleep.”

“Ewwwwww, stop!” Cat put a hand over her ears. “I don’t want to hear what you do with my brother.”

Lacey grinned. “Hey, you brought it up, not me.”

“You know, Lace,” Shannon said, manner reflective, “you still have two more months in your first year, so don’t count yourself out yet. And then fertility is different for every woman too. We know a teacher at school who said she always wanted five kids, but wasn’t able to have even one till she was married for five years. Would you believe she now has her five kids—each five years apart?”

“Yikes,” Cat said, working her lip while she reeled in her line. She shot Lacey a wink before she recast. “That poor woman will be a room mother for life.”

Shan’s smile was soft as she leaned to give Lacey’s shoulder a squeeze. “Give it another few months, Lace, and we’ll hit it hard in prayer, too, because we all know how important that is in the mix, okay?”

“Thanks, Shan.” Lacey slipped Shannon a sideways smile, a sparkle in her tone that helped chase her gloomy mood away. “And speaking of prayer, you’ve obviously been making great headway with Sam because Jack says he’s actually thinking about coming to a volleyball game one of these Saturday nights.”