Heartbeats, p.12
Heartbeats, page 12
“So, is she?”
She took a deep breath. She’d have to reveal the situation sometime. Might as well be now. “Yes, Joie is due in July.”
Nicole lifted the tea pot and poured steaming hot water over the coffee grounds. “I knew it! I wonder if she’d be interested in letting me be her doula? I mean, I’m not officially qualified yet, but I’ve always been extremely interested in the whole birthing process. Ina May Gaskin is my hero. I’ve read every one of her books, front to cover. Some of them twice.” She pressed the lever down slowly, then filled her mug.
“A doula?” Leigh Ann slid the cooked eggs onto a waiting plate, realizing she’d gotten flustered by this conversation and neglected to cook the links. Oh, well, she thought, and tossed the package back in the refrigerator. Mark could have toast instead.
“Mark, breakfast,” she called up the stairs.
Nicole carried her mug to the table. “A doula supports the mother during the entire birthing process.”
Leigh Ann frowned. “In the hospital room? She’s there when the baby is born?” She’d heard of such things, but thought the entire movement a bit odd. “I wasn’t sure I even wanted Mark in the delivery room when Colby was born. I can’t imagine having some stranger watch something so private.”
Her daughter-in-law took on a look of patience. “Actually, birth can be a euphoric experience, a way of accessing a uniquely female power. Birthing an infant is a normal life experience, not a medical event to be feared.” Nicole slipped into a chair at the table. “Doulas and midwives help put the birth experience back in women’s hands and show them their true power.”
Leigh Ann had to bite her tongue. Let’s see if this naïve little girl held to these silly ideas when she was the one with her feet in the stirrups. “Well, I think nurses and doctors are more than qualified to assist at the birth of a child. I’m not sure they really need any help.”
Mark entered the kitchen, straightening his tie. “Morning, you two.”
Leigh Ann chastised herself. Now, she’d neglected to put bread in the toaster. “I cooked you some eggs.”
“Just eggs?” he asked, taking the plate from her.
“Let me get you some fruit.” She buried her head in the refrigerator, scouring for the bowl of remaining peaches she’d cut up earlier in the week.
“Morning, Nicole.” Mark took his place opposite her at the table. “Did you sleep well?”
She assured him she had. “Well, until Colby called so early this morning.”
Leigh Ann pulled her head from the refrigerator so quickly she nearly banged her head. “Colby called?”
Nicole nodded. “He finally earned phone privileges, and his drill sergeant granted permission for him to call home.”
“And he called you?” Leigh Ann failed to measure her words. Mark gave her the look—the one meant to remind she’d neglected to recognize her son was now married, that he had a wife. “What did he say? Is he okay? What about basic training? Is it hard?”
Mark held up his hands and laughed. “Whoa, Leigh Ann. Slow down.”
Inside, she railed against the comment. Colby was her son—her only child—she’d never gone this long without talking to him. She worried whether he was sleeping well, what he was eating and if he was getting along with all his army buddies. She hoped his drill sergeant wasn’t like those she’d seen in the movies. She didn’t want someone yelling obscenities in her son’s face!
He’d called Nicole—not her.
Yes, she realized that was how things were supposed to be, but her heart still had a hard time adjusting.
“Sorry,” she said, her eyes growing misty. “I just miss my son.”
Mark stood, placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know you do, babe. He’ll be back home before we know it.”
“Of course, then he’ll ship off to who knows where.” their daughter-in-law stated.
Mark and Leigh Ann glanced at one another, then at her.
“What?” Nicole said. “Did I say something wrong?”
18
When driving north on Interstate 84, there’s a point where you go around a bend and in the distance, the dry vistas dotted with sagebrush turn to a vast landscape of trees nestled up against rolling foothills, the capitol building dome visible in the center—a scene that used to send a little thrill running through Joie. But today, as the city of Boise came into view, a wave of nausea rolled across her gut that couldn’t simply be attributed to her pregnancy. Dread had every nerve ending tightly tuned to what lay ahead.
Clint looked across the seat. “You okay?”
She took a deep breath, swiped her palms across the top of her pants as she stared out the window, “I will be—when this is over.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a severe miscalculation on the benefit of simply showing up without forewarning. Perhaps she should have texted Andrew, given him some sort of heads up.
Of course, any unexpected communication would have met with more questions. She’d have tried to be evasive. He would have continued to hound her, trying to learn the truth of her visit, which was comical given Andrew had already proven he was the one who had a loose hold on the truth.
He hated the words lies and truth. In the courtroom, there was only the story. Winning was more than facts and law, it was all about persuasion. A great litigator knew the practice of law was never simply black and white.
Neither could her current situation be painted so starkly.
One thing Joie was sure of—she did not want her looming pregnancy to be viewed as an invitation back into her life. No guilt trip, no amount of persuasion would change her mind.
Clint beat his thumb against the steering wheel. “You know, you’re not the first person who tried to get rid of a hole in her soul, and filled it with the wrong thing.”
Joie rolled her eyes. “Please, I don’t need any advice.”
“I’m not offering any,” he told her. “But you might lighten up, give yourself a break.”
“Meaning?”
“The fact this Andrew guy turned out not worthy of your trust is more a reflection of him, not you.”
Joie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m a good person. I mean, it’s been ages since I stole a Christmas goose from a crippled child.”
That made Clint laugh.
She smiled too. “Glad to entertain you.”
Andrew lived in a gorgeous historic home located on Warm Springs Avenue, an area synonymous with local wealth and elegant architecture. Joie had only been inside his home one time at a Christmas party he and his wife had hosted for the firm’s attorneys.
By then, they’d been seeing each other for several months. She was crushed to learn he was married, of course, and filled with guilt—emotions she’d tried to push to the recesses of her mind by telling herself all the lies people need to justify their affairs. The problem was, she just couldn’t do it. Deep inside, she knew what they were doing was wrong, and she ended it.
Unfortunately, the decision ended her career at the firm as well.
She packed up her deflated pride and moved back home, never intending to tell another soul that she’d crossed the sacred line. That is, until he showed up in town.
He was attending a bar association retreat in Sun Valley and searched her out, lured her back into his arms with more lies—this time assuring her that he’d left his wife. Another lie. She discovered the truth and sent him packing a second time.
She wished she could pack up the pieces of her torn heart as decidedly.
Her hand went to her stomach. Turns out what Father John preached on Sundays was true—if you’re not careful with your choices, you can easily fall into a pit. And often you can’t climb out without a little help.
Joie glanced across the seat as they pulled up in front of the Andrew’s address. “Thank you for driving me,” she said.
Clint shrugged as he surveyed the neighborhood. “No problem.” He turned to her, his eyes filled with encouragement. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
She gave him an apprehensive nod. With a deep breath, Joie opened the car door, forced herself from the seat and climbed out onto the curb.
Andrew often described his home as being western colonial in style, boasting its symmetrical layout, dark gray hues, white trimming and wooden shingles with crossed windows that gave the bungalow-styled house a quaint appearance despite its size. The house had been featured in an architectural magazine. A framed copy of the article hung in Andrew’s office.
With determination, she swallowed and pushed the doorbell.
The door opened, and the man she’d once known so intimately stood there, his masculine elegance, and long lean-muscled body stiffening. Andrew hated to be surprised.
He wore a pair of chinos and a white-button down shirt, both pressed into crisp precision. His jet-black hair was a picture of dignity and good breeding, except for one lock that fell carelessly over his forehead, betraying the carefully cultivated look.
“Joie? What are you doing here?” He glanced up and down the street, spotted her jeep with Clint inside. His grin instantly turned to a frown. “You’re not alone.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Seconds passed in tense silence. “May I come in?” she asked.
Andrew continued to stare at the jeep, took a step back. “Uh, sure,” he said, waving her inside.
Joie let the door fall shut behind her, and stepped into the center of the elegant room. Hand-scraped hardwood floors gleamed rich and smooth as honey, upholstered couches looked as if they’d been delivered only minutes ago. Every detail of his home—all stepping stones on the path to the holy grail of American ethos: prosperity, success, upward social mobility. A star in the courtroom, he had earned it all.
“Can I get you something?” he asked, with the politeness of strangers, not of someone who had—
She closed her mind to the images, the memory.
“No, I’m good.”
“Take your coat, then?”
She nodded and slipped her arms from her jacket and went to hand it to him, then changed her mind. “I’ll hang on to it. What I have to say won’t take long.”
That brought another scowl as they moved to one of those pristine sofas and sat.
That’s when he noticed—his eyes catching sight of her slightly expanded middle. “Why are you here, Joie?” he pushed.
“I’m pregnant,” she stated, simply and without emotion.
His eyes traveled to the window and her jeep outside. “Mine?” he asked, as if there was a question.
She instantly angered. “Yes,” she told him with gritted teeth. “I’m due in July.” She rushed to clarify. “And I want nothing from you except for you to waive all parental rights.”
He stood, his face darkening. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, pacing across the imported rug protecting that hardwood floor.
Her heart lurched with instant terror. Surely, he didn’t want to be involved in any of this.
Her qualms were instantly squelched when he strode through French doors leading to his office. He opened the drawer and pulled his binder of checks out, grabbed his Montblanc pen. “I have money,” he told her, scribbling furiously. “Surely termination would be—”
She stood, clasped her coat to her belly. “I won’t be terminating, and I don’t want your money, Andrew. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t even want to ever see you again. I simply need you to sign this.” She reached in her bag and pulled out an envelope and thrust it in his direction.
“I’ll draw something up.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Sign it. I’m sure anything you might be concerned about is properly addressed.” She paused. “I’m not here to mess with you, Andrew, or to cause you any harm. I simply want you out of my life—and out of my child’s life.”
“Forever,” she added.
He tentatively took the three-page document and began reading it.
Joie couldn’t help but wonder about his wife, felt sick inside over the pain caused by her indiscretions and outright stupidity. She glanced around. There was no sign of her, no photos. Nothing that would imply he was still married. Perhaps his wife had finally had it and ended the union.
Andrew sunk to the sofa, bent over the coffee table and signed the release. “I’ll want a copy,” he told her as he thrust the document back into her hands.
“Of course.” She pulled a second copy from her bag and handed it to him.
Their eyes met. For an instant, unbidden images passed through her mind—tousled sheets, murmured promises, late morning breakfasts in bed. She pushed the painful thoughts to the back of her mind to examine later, at a time where she didn’t feel like a thousand pin pricks were piercing every nerve beneath the surface of her chilled skin.
She pulled her coat up, slipped her arms into the sleeves. Andrew moved to assist her but she shook her head. “I need to go.”
He nodded and followed her to the door, neither of them saying anything more.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a familiar blonde entered the room—a paralegal Joie recognized from the real estate department of the firm. Wendy Riggins’ eyebrows raised in surprise. “Joie? Hey, what are you doing here? It’s good to see you.” She reached and gave Joie a fragile hug.
“Hey, Wendy.”
The girl glanced between Joie and Andrew. “Are you coming back to the firm?”
Joie shook her head. “No.”
Wendy stared, shamelessly. “Oh. Well, good seeing you.” She leaned and gave Andrew a prolonged kiss on the cheek, her ambitious breasts pushing against his chest.
Joie simply peered at them in disbelief. Her former boss and his new lover barely had the decency to look embarrassed.
Struggling to breathe, she walked out the door.
At the car, she threw her purse into the backseat, then climbed inside. Clint reached for the ignition. “You okay?”
She leaned against the headrest, fatigue settling in. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She placed her hands protectively across her growing belly feeling shaky and unsteady, not at all herself. She bit at the inside of her cheek to gain control, hating that her emotions were as fragile as soap bubbles.
Fine.
It was a lie. He knew it. She knew it.
She rehearsed the scene that had just played out, struggled to gain some perspective. She supposed there was no use trying to figure out might-have-beens or wish-I-hadn’ts—so why even try?
Truth was—she was fine—and she mentally assured herself of that. She could still function, even when her heart had been torn to shreds.
Ever since learning she was pregnant, she’d been moving in slow motion, waiting for the inevitable ax to fall on her failings. But now, she felt herself waking.
The fox remained in the chicken house. But that was that other chicken’s problem now. On the flip side of the story, she was ready to move on, ready for the future to unfold and anxious to embrace a new destiny.
Outside the car window, snow started to fall, like a blessing falls on a prodigal when she’s finally admitted she’s ready to return home.
Joie straightened, lifted her chin.
She had her life back.
19
Karyn stood in her doorway and waved at her guests. “Goodnight, everyone! Thanks for coming.”
Joie waved a tiny dime-store trophy over her head. “Sure thing. Kicking your butt at Monopoly was worth the trip.”
Her dad playfully punched his youngest daughter’s shoulder. “Rematch next month. We’ll see if you can hold on to the coveted title.”
Leigh Ann called over her shoulder, “Let’s leave the competition at the game table, you two.”
Karyn gave a final wave, and slid the front door closed.
Grayson folded his arms around her. “Boy, your family is cut throat when it comes to playing games.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s been that way since we were little. You should see all of us when we get out the dominoes.”
He took her hand, led her into the kitchen. “Well, I think the losers deserve a bit of wine. Perhaps in the hot tub?”
She nodded. “Sounds like a great plan.”
Minutes later, they languished in bubbling steaming water, wine goblets in hand.
“Joie sure seems happy, don’t you think?” Karyn murmured, enjoying the blanket of stars in the night sky.
“Yeah, seems so. I mean, I still don’t feel like I know her all that well, but being pregnant seems to agree with her.”
“I know, right? Joie has never been one to open up completely, but I’ve really noticed a change. It’s as if she’s finally content to live in her skin—know what I mean?” She leaned her head against Grayson’s bare shoulder. “I never expected she’d be this excited about being a mom.”
“I don’t blame her.”
Karyn lifted her head and looked at him. “Yeah? What do you mean?”
Grayson took the bottle and filled his wine glass, then hers. “I don’t know. I guess I always wanted to be a dad. In fact, I’d urged Robin to consider making the jump into parenthood. She kept putting me off. Finally, she agreed and we tried, but nothing ever came of it.” He sighed. “And then, well—then the end came and she left me for that other guy.”
“Yeah, sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope.” She’d wanted to have babies with Dean, then—well, then the accident happened. She pushed the sad thought from her mind, squeezed his hand. “You’d make a great father.”
He smiled and took a sip of his wine. “Yeah, I suppose I would. I mean, I can’t wait to play ball with my kid.” He laughed. “Or build a playhouse, if I end up with a girl.”
She smiled at him. “Maybe you’ll be having both.”
“Yeah, maybe. All I know is, your sister’s lucky. Sure, her situation has its challenges, but she seems happy. I think that Clint guy has something to do with her happiness.”
“Clint?” She looked at Grayson like he was half crazy. “I’m pretty sure they are just friends. Especially under the circumstances.”
