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“You’re right, Greg.” The soft tone had him looking up at her. “I need to let myself enjoy more. To reach for more.” She was looking at him in a way he recognized from their previous situation and his body lit up.
And then she reached for one of the crib legs. “This is actually pretty good,” she said, sounding impressed.
“I thought so, too, but it hasn’t passed Wood’s inspection yet. I have to tell you, Wood isn’t going to let anything less than perfect on that crib.”
“I can’t believe he’s making us a crib!”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know he would,” Greg said. “When I talked to him about it, he’d acted kind of hurt that you hadn’t already talked to him about what you wanted. Apparently you weren’t shy about asking for the bedroom set he made you.” He hadn’t known until then that Wood had furnished Elaina’s suite.
Elaina’s hands ran slowly, almost lovingly, along the sanded edge of a crib leg. “That was a while back...”
“To hear him tell it, that bedroom set saved his life.”
She turned back to him. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s up for him to tell you, but I gather that he was on some thin ice after Peter died. And felt that, with his lack of education, there was little he could do for you, except give you a home that welcomed you, a bed to sleep in that pleased you, landscaping that spoke to you...”
Her eyes teared and Greg had to fight not to reach out for her as he said, “You were so determined to fight on your own, as I think you had to be to survive. Yet you welcomed him into your life, built a home with him, which neither of you would have had without the other, from what I can see. You did as much for him as he did for you, Elaina...”
She nodded, rubbing the leg of the crib again, caressing it, and Greg knew his first bout of jealousy of an inanimate object.
“Once we know the baby’s gender, it will all be more real,” he said softly. “We’ll be loving on a deeper level as the baby takes on an identity. Maybe our worries will grow, too, but so will the joy.”
She nodded. Smiled. But he saw a tear slide down the side of her face that was visible to him, knew that he’d pushed as far as he should.
“This was supposed to be a surprise, by the way,” he said, picking up the second good leg. “My idea, not Wood’s, so we can let him know you know.”
Elaina glanced up as she took the leg she’d been fondling into both hands. “It seems too good to be true...the way this is all working out. It makes me afraid of what could be around the corner.”
“I know.” And he understood why. There was no denying that she’d suffered more than a lot of people. Had memories of horror locked away in her brain. No taking away the shock of tragedy from her emotional instincts. “Just know that I’ll be there...and others will be there with you. Around every corner.”
If she got that he was telling her he loved her, so be it.
If not, then that was okay, too. He didn’t want to give her more than she was ready to handle. And wasn’t ready to know if she didn’t return his feelings.
One step at a time.
For both of them.
Chapter Seventeen
Elaina was in the kitchen that weekend, making a cup of tea, when Greg came in from the shed. Now that he was no longer hiding his project, he’d spent most evenings after work outside. Sometimes Beldon was with him, sometimes not.
Sometimes she had to shake herself to put it all together. How could it be that she was experiencing some of the things she’d enjoyed with Wood—watching him working wood in the shed and seeing a dog in the yard—and yet experiencing them in a whole new way?
A much fuller, more alive way?
Greg had said that much of the life she and Wood had shared had been of her own making. And that she’d saved Wood as much as he’d saved
her. More and more, she was beginning to see truth in that belief. But still, she feared every good thing that was happening.
She wanted the baby. Didn’t doubt her ability to love it. To give it a happy life.
And yet...she couldn’t accept the possibility that her own life could be happy, as well. It was like she had a mental roadblock she just couldn’t get around.
Watching Greg come into the kitchen just then, she felt the pang of her inner battle worse than ever. He wanted her. She wanted so badly to give him what he wanted. To try to make him happy. Sexually. Emotionally. For life.
And yet...to do so...felt wrong. Even the thought of it brought forth feelings of immense guilt. She fought them. Fought with herself. Was fighting for her personal emotional freedom and right to feel utter joy. But couldn’t figure out how to win the battle.
