Baby on the Way Page 10

  While Caitlin had her doubts about the durability of tiny crocheted sleepers or paper-thin booties, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything that would dampen the joy Eliza obviously found in getting these things for her grandchild. And Caitlin appreciated the gestures of love Michael’s mother had made toward her.

  Her eyes roved appreciatively across the mural once more. Jordan had done a very good job. It was a lovely room to welcome a new baby, even without the extras he wanted to add.

  The doorbell rang and Caitlin walked to the top of the stairs. “Come in,” she called, refusing to traverse the length of those steps again today.

  “Caitlin, honey, it’s me,” Eliza Andrews called. After a moment she caught sight of her daughter-in-law. “I brought something for the baby’s room. I hope you’re feeling okay.” Her voice dropped in concern. “I’m not bothering you?”

  Caitlin felt a hint of frustration. Everyone treated her with kid gloves these days. As if she’d break.

  “Come on up,” she called. “I’m on strike. I refuse to navigate those stairs again just now.”

  Eliza joined her, thrusting a flat square box into her hands. “This is for you and the baby, Caitlin.”

  “Thank you, Eliza. You’re going to have to quit this, you know.” Eliza’s wistful smile aroused Caitlin’s curiosity.

  “This is one thing I had to bring.”

  “Come and see the nursery,” Caitlin invited, moving down the hall. Although she had contributed a number of items to the baby’s room, Eliza hadn’t yet been in it and suddenly Caitlin had an urge to show off her and Jordan’s handiwork.

  She left Eliza to look around while she sank into the rocking chair and unwrapped the box. Eliza’s gift was the finishing touch to an already perfect nursery. Nestled inside the foil package was a delicately embroidered ivory shawl. Caitlin shook it out carefully, then spread it across the rungs of the crib, ready to welcome its new owner.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, trailing one finger over the intricate design.

  “It was Michael’s,” Eliza told her, smiling softly in remembrance. “His grandmother made it for him and when he was through with it, I tucked it away. I thought he might use it himself some day. For his own child.”

  “It’s perfect Thank you, Eliza. The baby will love it.” Caitlin patted her soft hand.

  “It’s not that I’m trying to keep Michael alive or anything, Caitlin,” the older woman apologized, her eyes solemn. “I know he’s in heaven and happy. That’s the one thing that makes his death bearable. But I thought someday the baby might want some history of his father’s, some link with the past. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, I’ll understand. I know you have to get on with your life.”

  “I am getting on with life. And this is a wonderful idea! Thank you for thinking of it. To me, Michael will always be alive in here.” Caitlin patted her heart. Her voice was full of tears and before long they were weeping all over each other. They didn’t even hear Jordan arrive.

  “What’s all the bawling for?” he demanded, relief in his eyes at the sight of his mother cradling Caitlin’s dark head. “I thought having a baby is supposed to be a happy occasion. You two look like you’re in serious pain.”

  Eliza met Caitlin’s raised eyebrows with a grin. “Son,” she told Jordan affectionately, patting his broad shoulder, “women do not bawl. And these were tears of joy. I sincerely hope you’re around when Caitlin goes into labor. Then perhaps you’ll understand that children bring both joy and pain.”

  Her blue eyes twinkled merrily, winking at Caitlin before they returned to her big, boisterous son. “In fact, some children bring more of one than the other.”

  Caitlin giggled at the frown that crossed Jordan’s usually smiling face.

  “Mother, I hope you aren’t insinuating that I have ever been anything but the wonderful, loving, caring, obedient son you have always told me I am.”

  “Obedient, he says. As if he would ever listen to his parents?” Eliza’s snort was an audible guffaw in the quiet house. Her tears vanished as she looked to Caitlin for support.

  Jordan raised his eyebrows in shock. “As if I would ever go against your wishes. Mother, please!”

  “Enough, you two.” Caitlin held up a hand. “You’ll set a bad example for my baby. He’s going to be the sweetest, most amenable child there ever was. Just like his mother.”

  Jordan coughed. “And if that isn’t a bit of make-believe, I don’t know what is.” He offered a hand up to Caitlin. “Come on, little mama. We’re going out for your walk. Then supper.”

  Caitlin groaned, her green eyes beseeching Eliza to support her. “It’s too icy outside, Jordan. And too cold. I just want to stay home tonight. Take your mother out, for a change. She’d enjoy it.”

  But Eliza shook her head in an emphatic “no.” “Thanks anyway, Caitlin. I’ll go home to Stan.” She picked up her coat and slipped it on then led the way to the outside door, stopping only long enough to slip on her snow boots.

  Caitlin held open the door. “Thank you for the shawl, Eliza. I will treasure it. Be careful on the roads,” she added, noticing the icy slickness of the driveway. She closed the door quickly behind her mother-in-law, shivering at the blast of cold air.

  “I am not going out in that, Jordan. And I don’t care what you say,” she informed him, swishing around him and into the kitchen.

  The cupboards weren’t quite bare, but it was close. Caitlin stared at the lonely can of tomato soup and shrugged. It would do. At least it was better than chancing her footing on all that ice.

  “We can have soup and toast,” she told him firmly as he entered the kitchen. “That’s nutritious and filling.”

  “It’s not tomato soup is it?” he asked warily, glancing around her shoulder to peer at the label. “I knew it.” His voice was full of defeat.

  “What’s wrong with tomato soup?” she demanded, whirling around to study him.

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “It’s just that I ate it almost every day for a solid year when I was going to college,” he told her. “I had to save my money to take this girl out, so I lived on soup. I got a great deal on a case of tomato.”

  He ignored her snicker.

  “I made a vow that when I graduated and started work, I would never eat the stuff again unless there was nothing else.” He yanked open a cupboard door and stared at the empty shelf.

  “Well, it looks like that time has arrived!” Caitlin grinned. “But that’s okay. I love tomato soup. You can have toast.”

  “Caitlin!” Jordan let out an exasperated sigh. “How can you not have any groceries in the house? You’re supposed to be eating healthfully and there’s nothing in this fridge but a dried-up bit of lettuce.”

  “If you recall,” she said matter-of-factly, stirring the thickening soup steadily, “these past weeks you have taken me out almost every single night for dinner. I hardly need groceries.”

  “Ridiculous,” he replied, slamming the door closed and snatching up his heavy leather jacket from its usual position on her easy chair.

  “Where are you going?” She pointed to the toaster. “Your supper is almost ready.”

  “That isn’t a meal,” he told her. “That’s a bedtime snack. I’m going shopping and if you’re nice, I’ll bring some goodies back.” His eyes glinted behind his glasses. “If there was a snowstorm, you’d starve to death here. Honestly woman, how can you be so careless of yourself?”

  His chastising tone hurt. Caitlin felt a wave of misery close over her and seconds later heard herself burst into tears which made her even more disconsolate.

  “I am not careless,” she said. “I simply hate lugging those heavy bags back from the store and since I can’t drive, I have to use the bus.”

  “I’m sorry, Lyn,” he said at last, using his handkerchief to wipe the tears off her cheeks. His voice was soft and full of concern. “I never even thought of that or I would have taken you there myself. Just s
top crying now, okay?”

  “I am not c-c-crying,” she blubbered, his gentleness affecting her more than his anger had. “I never cry!”

  Jordan tugged her into his arms and held her as she sobbed miserably on his shoulder.

  “Of course you’re not,” he murmured, a wry grin tipping his lips. “Any fool can see that. You merely have a leak in your eyes that allows moisture to fall out in huge droplets that roll down your cheeks and soak my shirt. Obviously not crying! How stupid of me.”

  She pushed out of his arms, embarrassed by the whole thing. Turning her back to him, Caitlin filled the kettle and put it on to heat, striving for a tiny measure of control when her nerves screamed frustration.

  “Caitlin?” He turned her around and slid one finger under her chin, tipping her tearstained face up toward his. “Just make a list and I’ll pick up whatever you need, okay?”

  “I don’t need someone to look after me,” she bristled angrily. “I’m not a child that needs a keeper.”

  She heard the sigh. Anyone would have. It was loud and forbearing as if there were thousands of things he could have said, and yet nothing he was willing to verbalize.

  Guilt, frustration and tiredness welled up inside, each one vying for supremacy. She was fed up with figuring out which one was worse. All she wanted to do was give in to this need to cry.

  Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? She’d get through this. Somehow. In her own way.

  “Just for right now, just tonight, let me be my brother’s keeper, okay?” His gentle fingers turned her to face him, his golden eyes beseeching her. “Actually, that should be my sister-in-law’s keeper.

  “I promise, it will just be tonight.” That tender note in his voice was her undoing.

  Caitlin couldn’t ignore him. “This one time you can help me out,” she agreed finally. “Is it a deal?”

  “Scout’s honor.” He held up one hand with two fingers pointing upward. “I promise I will never help you again. Not even if you beg me on bended knee. Now will you give me that list?”

  “I could go myself,” she told him, frowning. “I’m kind of picky about what fruit and vegetables I eat.”

  “Do you really want to go parading around a supermarket, pushing past people, standing in line and lugging everything across an icy parking lot to the car? I’m not going to take over your life, Caitlin. I’m just trying to help out.”

  “You have already helped me,” she told him seriously. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful Jordan. It’s just that I have to learn to depend on myself. I have to manage on my own. I can’t expect people to come running every time the Widow Andrews needs something.” She peered up at him, trying to make him understand.

  “I’m a grown woman, Jordan. I have to be able to handle things as they come up. I have to be sure that I can manage it all.” She smiled tiredly. “I know you think I’m obsessing about Michael, but I’m not. I understand that we’re all human, that death is a part of life. That simply means you have to be strong enough to take it. Right now there is only me for my baby. He’s depending on me and I have to learn to be self-reliant.”

  She waited, watching his eyes darken and narrow as he absorbed what she’d said. When he spoke his voice seemed leashed, held back.

  “Yes, Lyn, people die. But can’t you understand that while they’re here, a lot of them just want to do what they can to make your life a little easier? Can’t you see that it hurts us to see you struggling on your own when it’s so easy for us to lend a hand?”

  His face was serious, carved in lines of concern as he stared down at her. “We’re not asking for anything from you, Caitlin. My parents don’t expect anything from you. They just want to be there because you’re their daughter-in-law and they love you. My sisters just want their friend back in their lives.”

  Caitlin squinted up at him through the mist of tears that seemed to constantly block her vision these days. She remembered how many times in the past week she’d put Robyn and her sisters off, pretending she was too busy to see them, have lunch, talk.

  “Can’t you accept just a little bit of that love, Lyn?”

  It was a persuasive argument and she felt so alone. Caitlin stared at the table in front of her and admitted to herself that she did want to be part of their group again. She wanted to rejoin the human race, but on her own conditions.

  “It’s just that I have nothing to give them back,” she whispered at last, sinking into a nearby chair.

  “I’m empty, Jordan.” She met his softened gaze. “Sometimes I think the last part of me that is capable of love only lives because of this baby.”

  He squatted in front of her, placing his hands on either side of her as his velvety soft gaze stared straight into hers. “Then just relax and let us fill the empty space. We’ll do the work.” He smiled softly. “All you have to do is accept it. That’s all we ask.”

  One hand reached up to smooth her hair away from her tired face. “It’s sort of like that with God, too. When we think we can’t go another step, He’s there to lean on and support us until we can catch our breath, gather our resources and continue with the journey.” Jordan stood abruptly and zipped his jacket closed. His hand reached out and swiped the list from her fridge.

  “For once in your life, Lyn, let someone else be in control. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.” He grinned down at her. “I’ll be back in a while. With real food.”

  Ten minutes later, as she sat sipping the tomato soup and munching on a square of toast, Caitlin thought about his words. Just like God, he’d said. Well, she didn’t know much about God.

  Oh, she had gone to church all her life and she was familiar with the hymns and choruses one sang in church. But she had never really thought of God as someone who was there to lean on. He’d always seemed an authority figure, somewhere way out there, sort of awesome and fear inducing. But the way Jordan spoke, God was like a person.

  Caitlin leaned back in her chair and considered that. To be able to relax and let someone else shoulder the worry, that would be something. Not to feel guilty if she just gave in and believed that someone else would figure things out, to just go with what felt right to do today and not constantly worry about the future.

  Of course, it wouldn’t work for her. She had to plan each facet of her life. She had to make sure there were no surprises, she had to be prepared for anything life threw at her. Because if she wasn’t, she would be hurt and abandoned just as she had been in the past. And she couldn’t take that. Not again.

  Caitlin cleaned up the kitchen and carried her tea into the living room, in front of the fire. A feeling of dread fell upon her as each moment ticked past on the old grandfather clock in the corner. What was taking Jordan so long?

  He’d been gone for over an hour now. And the most recent check out the window had shown signs of a prairie storm blowing in. Everything was white, swirling snow. Caitlin could barely see to the end of the drive and as she peered out, her mind noted that the few cars that were out had to pass through the white drifts covering the road.

  The phone peeled its urgent summons, causing her to jump.

  “Yes,” she murmured nervously, a trill of anticipation rolling down her spine. But the caller had a wrong number.

  Please God, if you’re there, don’t let anything happen to Jordan.

  She spent a long time saying that over and over, her television program long since forgotten. Caitlin was just adding another log on the fire when Jordan burst through the door carrying bags and bags of groceries. Arms loaded, he shoved the door closed with his foot.

  “What in the world did you buy?” she demanded, aghast at the amount of the bill she found in the first sack. “I live alone, Jordan.”

  He grinned down at her. “But you’re eating for two, right?” He hung his damp coat on the doorknob and picked up several sacks, lugging them through to the kitchen. “Come on, woman. You need to get this stuff put away.”

  But Caitlin was already sorting through th
e first bag. “Triple-chocolate-almond-pistachio ice cream?” she asked, one eyebrow raised enquiringly.

  “It’s my favorite,” he told her grinning. “I knew you’d want to have something special to serve me when I come to visit.”

  Caitlin stared at him. “And the dill pickles?” she asked solemnly.

  “Oh, those are for you. You know, pickles and ice cream. It’s apparently all the rage with pregnant women.” When she made a face he pulled out a package of freshly ground coffee and held it up. “Also for you, milady.”

  Caitlin sniffed as the fragrant aroma wafted across the room. She closed her eyes at the wondrous essence of her favorite blend. He was at her side in a moment.

  “Lyn, are you all right?”

  “Perfectly,” she whispered reverently. “I’m just enjoying the full-bodied zest of something other than herbal tea. Junior may stop me from drinking the stuff but even he can’t object to my merely smelling it.” She opened her eyes to find him grinning down at her. “It is not funny.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s hilarious,” he returned solemnly, his velvet eyes caressing her. “How the mighty coffee drinkers have fallen. And by a tiny little baby!”

  “That’s not very nice,” she mumbled, slicing a teeny piece off the gigantic slab of cheddar cheese he’d purchased. “I’ve never made fun of you for your little quirks. And you do have a lot of them, don’t you?”

  He only ignored her teasing verbal jabs and continued to lug in bags and packages from the entry.

  “Grade A extra-large eggs, fresh whole milk, cream for my coffee, grapefruit, oranges, Granny Smith apples. Although why you want to eat anything so sour I can’t imagine. They do nothing for your disposition.” He held up a hand when she would have protested.

  “Cantaloupe, lettuce, tomatoes, celery, a turkey…”

  “A turkey?” Caitlin stared at him. “Are you crazy? I can’t eat a whole turkey, it will go to waste. Jordan, really, this is too much.”

  He ignored her, stuffing groceries into her cupboards and fridge like a grocery store shelf-stocker intent on completing his job in record time.