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“Eleven years.”
“Oh.” Her heart ached for him. She wanted to reach out, comfort him, do something to make it all better.
Instead, here she was causing more complications than he ever knew possible.
“Did you tell your grandma or your mom about the baby yet?” he asked.
“Nope. I’m still waiting for the right time.”
“When will that be?” They’d reached the condos. He pulled into a visitor’s parking space and cut the engine.
“I’m thinking when this kid reaches twenty-one.” She rubbed her stomach.
He turned to look at her, tipping his head to the side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“When you put it like that, nothing. They can’t do anything that’s going to stop this baby from coming. And my grandma’s long since given up trying to make me come home.” She let out a sigh. “But it’s not just physical things that can hurt people. Words can cut, criticism can bruise. I spent a lifetime cowering away from feeling the pain of her disapproval. I don’t really want to go back to that feeling.” She glanced down at her bump. “And I don’t want this little one to ever feel that way.”
“Then don’t tell her.”
“That doesn’t seem right either. I’m not ashamed of this baby, or of myself. And if I try to hide things from her, that’s how it feels.”
“Have you thought about writing a letter?” he asked. “That way you’ve let her know but you don’t have to worry about her response; you can just let it go.”
“I hadn’t thought about that, but it’s a good idea. I could maybe send a copy of the ultrasound, too. If she wants to reply, she can, but at least I don’t have to hear some cutting response through the phone.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
His eyes met hers. “You’re welcome. Are you working at mine tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ve had another batch of orders come in. It’s time to start looking at some apartments, too, when I get a chance to research.” She reached for the door knob. “Are you working?”
“No. I have a rest day. I’ll probably sleep for some of it, and then I need to head out to meet a few people, so I won’t be in your hair.”
“I wouldn’t mind you getting in my hair.” She grinned. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, leaning across to kiss his cheek. She could feel the scrape of his beard growth on her lips. And there it was again, that shot of electricity. Her toes curled with the pleasure of it.
“See you tomorrow,” he replied, his voice gruff.
Yeah. She was looking forward to it.
16
James pulled his car into the parking lot and looked through the windshield. A wide expanse of verdant grass dotted with pearlescent white headstones lay beyond the black iron railings in front of his car. Tall cedar and oak trees provided shade, their leafy branches stooping over the graves. He grabbed the flowers he’d bought from the florist down the road and climbed out of the car, heading for the large double gates at the entrance of the cemetery.
It had been a while since he’d visited. Too long, probably. But something had called to him today; a need to be here, in the quiet of their final resting place, to feel the calm air around him as he tried to sort through his thoughts.
He didn’t sleep well last night. For most of the night he’d tossed and turned, his brain too alert to submit to the weariness of his body, his thoughts zapping him awake like paddles to his heart.
In the end, he’d got up right after daybreak and ran for miles along the coast, pushing himself to run faster, harder. Anything to get those damn thoughts out of his head. For a while a cormorant had kept pace with him, dipping and rising in flight above the crashing waves as it flew parallel to him. The bird had gotten bored in the end, turning left to head out to the sea, leaving him alone once again.
His feet knew the route to their graves by heart. A few hundred yards up the path, left at the second tree, right at the mausoleum that interred the bodies of the Paxton family, the original founders of Angel Sands. And then there were the two gravestones, one bigger than the other, signaling the final resting place of all he’d once held dear.
He separated the bouquet he’d bought, sliding flowers into each of their vases, then poured in water he’d brought along with him. Placing the water bottle on the grass, he leaned forward to touch the cool marble with his son’s name engraved on it.
Jacob was going to have a little sister. He tried to imagine his tiny little boy growing up, taking pride in being a big brother, teaching the younger children things he’d only recently learned himself. James pressed his lips together, his lungs tight as he tried to push those thoughts away. One day the baby in Harper’s stomach would be older than Jacob was when he died – please god. She would learn to walk, to talk, to read and write in a way Jacob never had. He was a frozen moment in time, and it hurt to know he’d never experience those things.
“Sleep tight,” James whispered, lifting his hand off the cool stone. “Daddy loves you.”
Ignoring the sting in his eyes, he turned to Sara’s grave. Beloved wife of James. Adored mother of Jacob. Heaven gained another star today. May she always shine on.
He blew out some air, but it didn’t ease the ache in his chest. Scooting down once more, he reached his hand out, running his fingers over the inscription.
