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“You look like you’re going to faint Caleb. It’s okay. Babies are supposed to kick. It means they’re healthy.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
Caleb laughed nervously, gave his head a shake, met her eyes again. “I…it’s like it wasn’t quite real until just then.” Then he frowned. “Does it hurt when they do that?”
“Oh, they give me a good jab once in a while. Enough to make me suck in a breath, maybe, but nothing drastic.”
He stared at her for a long moment as if a little awed by her. But then he shook himself and went back to the tray, brought her cup of coffee. “Better drink this while it’s still warm.”
“You didn’t need to do all this, Caleb.”
“I wanted to, I told you.”
She sipped the coffee. Finished the Danish. Grabbed a doughnut.
“Your mother says you, um…have a doctor’s appointment today,” he said, speaking slowly.
“Yeah. In an hour actually.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes conveying a clear message. She rolled hers and sighed. “Don’t tell me you want to come along.”
He nodded hard. “Only if it won’t make you too uncomfortable,” he said quickly.
“When the stirrups come out, pal, you leave the room. Got it?”
He shuddered. “I…think I can safely promise that much.” Turning, he went to the two cribs, checked them out, nodding in approval. “Why the mesh on the inside?” he asked.
“The slats were a bit too far apart on the older models. Of course, the five of us survived them, but you can’t be too careful.”
Nodding, he reached in to touch the soft blankets. “I’ve never seen a baby quilt like this before.”
“That’s because I made it.”
He turned toward her, his brows arched, then lifted the quilt out of the crib for a closer examination. Building blocks with letters on them, and bunnies and teddy bears, all hand stitched, in various textures and colors, littered the piece. “Wow. This is some intricate work, Maya.” Then, grinning at her, he said, “I guess my plan is working.”
“What?” she asked.
“To get to know you better,” he explained. “Already I’ve learned something about you. You quilt.”
The sound of a throat being cleared made them both look toward the door, where Kara stood looking in at them. Her head was only a few inches below the door-frame.
“She quilts, she sews, she cooks—the woman makes Martha Stewart look like an amateur.”
“Oh, cut it out, Kara. I’m not auditioning for anything here.”
Kara only shrugged. “Caleb,” she said, “I have a favor to ask you.”
He said, “Anything at all, Kara. What do you need?”
“Well, with all that’s been going on, we haven’t even got a Christmas tree up yet.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I had a tree for Christmas.”
“Really?” Kara asked. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s just me and my father, and I guess we….” He shook his head. “I don’t know. So, what do you need? Help getting a tree?”
