Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

Chapter Six

The couples’ shower for Tanner and Lilah was being hosted by Sandra Donavan, one of the other teachers at Whiteberry Elementary, and her husband, Pat. Rachel had never been to their house before, but the giant white bell-shaped balloon tied to the mailbox outside made it easy to find. What was a bit more difficult to find was parking—a line of cars had already formed halfway up the street. Rachel climbed out of the car, bracing herself against the freezing rain, and locked her doors, even though she didn’t know the last time anything was stolen in Mistletoe.

She carried her purse, umbrella and a plastic-wrapped platter with enough ham-and-cheese-melt mini-sandwiches for fourteen guests. It was a good thing David was bringing the gift from the two of them since she didn’t have a free hand.

“Hey.”

At the sound of David’s voice, she turned on the sidewalk. “I was just thinking about you,” she blurted. She glanced at the silver-wrapped package in his hands. “I mean, about the fact that you were bringing the present.”

A lot of people, herself included, relied on cute gift bags. Not David. He hand-wrapped everything with precision corners and perfectly coordinated ribbons.

Out of nowhere, a burble of laughter escaped her. “It’s a good thing you’re so secure in your masculinity.”

“Less secure by the hour.” He fell in step with her, but remained on the street since their open umbrellas didn’t allow for their walking abreast on the sidewalk. “Just earlier today, I was shot down by a beautiful woman.”

Beautiful? Not sure how to respond, she concentrated on getting out of the rain quickly.

Rachel tried not to think about how many women in town would line up to console him once their separation was public knowledge. Ladies had sought her out at council meetings and softball games to tell her just how lucky she was. A few of them had sounded a bit jealous, miffed that one of Mistletoe’s most eligible bachelors had chosen an outsider, but most had simply been sincere. She thought again of how she would miss the people when she left, what Mistletoe had meant to her when she first visited.

My sanctuary. She’d come to this quaint town on vacation, after her dad had been released from the hospital. She’d worried that he was working himself to death … and was disturbed by the possibility that she was headed down the same sixty-hour-a-week path in a career she’d never consciously sought. She’d always let whatever classes she was getting the highest grades in determine her course, shaping her major and eventually her internship with a marketing firm in Columbia. But there’d never been a moment when she’d sat down, thought it out, and said, “Aha! This is what I want to be when I grow up.”

So she’d taken some personal time from work, hiking in North Georgia, taking scads of pictures and letting herself be charmed by small-town citizens. One in particular. She’d warned David that her time here was temporary and that she wasn’t interested in a brief fling, yet she’d dated him anyway. Guided by his vision of the future, she’d suddenly been able to see what she wanted, her nebulous plans crystallized into brilliant focus. David had made it seem so matter-of-fact; she would move here, be with him. They would raise a family and be deliriously happy, end of story. For a woman who had always obligingly gone with the flow, pleasing people around her and ignoring any selfish impulses, it had been intoxicating to consider such a bold move. After a few months of long-distance dating, they’d wound up engaged and she’d moved here exactly as he’d outlined. For a little while, they had been deliriously happy.

Now that they were apart, she’d known she couldn’t bear to stay in Mistletoe. It was too small—there wasn’t enough room for her, her ex and five years of accumulated memories. But then, she hadn’t counted on parenting from two different zip codes. She had to figure out a life plan that was good for their baby without jeopardizing her own sanity or further damaging her heart. David had had a point this morning; the pregnancy did change things. She just had to figure out which things and how much.

Turning, she headed up the sidewalk, glad that she and David were arriving together so that she didn’t babble through another explanation of why they’d taken two separate cars. Sandra opened the door, calling out a cheerful hello. As they stepped inside the two-story stone-and-wood house, each wiping their feet on the entry mat, Sandra looked back out the glass door.

“Heck of a day we picked to have a party, huh?”

Rachel handed over her tray of sandwiches. “At least you weren’t planning to do this in the backyard.”

“I’ve cooked out in worse weather,” her husband, Pat, said as he came into the foyer to greet them.

Rolling her eyes, Sandra laughed. “My husband thinks of barbecuing as an extreme sport.”

Pat mock-glared. “Never heard you complain while eating my award-winning brisket.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, both of them grinning.

Rachel’s throat constricted—it was just the teasing byplay of two people in love who were comfortable with each other, but it was easy to take for granted until you lost it. She and David hadn’t been comfortable in months; they’d become as hard and fragile as peanut brittle.

“Rachel, David.” Lilah appeared in the archway behind their hosts. “You guys made it! We’re just waiting on Amy and Steve.”

Steve played on Tanner’s softball team, and his wife, Amy, worked in the administration office of the elementary school. Gathered inside the Donavans’ living room already were Lilah’s aunt Shelby and uncle Ray, Vonda Kerrigan and her white-haired boyfriend Peter Joel and Quinn and Ari, who’d jokingly agreed to be each other’s dates since neither of them was currently seeing anyone special. Susan and Zachariah Waide had also been invited, but they were working at the store so their children could all attend. The Christmas season was the busiest time of year in retail.

The party kicked off the way most did in Mistletoe, with small talk while the guests piled their plates with food.

“You sit down. I’ll bring you something,” David instructed Rachel, gesturing toward the mismatched furniture. The Donavans had an adjoining dining room and living room that worked to create one large space; obviously they’d dragged chairs and even a love seat from other areas to accommodate the large number of guests.

She took a spot on a padded bench next to Arianne. The two of them were chatting about some upcoming holiday movies when Rachel realized her husband had returned.

“Thank y— Good heavens.” Rachel stared, trying to decide if this was his idea of a joke.

Even Arianne blinked. “Is that for Rachel and I to share? She can’t possibly eat all that.”

David glanced at the plate that was threatening to bow under the weight of the food he’d heaped on it. “It’s not that … Okay, maybe I got carried away. But—”

“But what?” Arianne asked.

But I’m eating for two now? Was that what David had been thinking? A silly old-time cliché that was hardly applicable in her case since the baby was probably the size of a small lima bean. The baby. Rachel found herself grinning foolishly. Lima bean or not, it was still her baby.

“Rach? David? One of you going to tell me why you’re behaving so strangely?”

“Nothing strange,” Rachel said, her voice breathy. Miraculous, wondrous, unexpected, but not strange. “I just … haven’t had a chance to eat today. Got caught up in that special scrapbooking project, and David’s trying to look out for me.”

“Which my wife,” David intoned, “does not always have the good sense to appreciate.”

She shot him a warning look. “Maybe I’d appreciate it if you trusted me to look out for myself. I might even appreciate looking out for someone else, not that you ever seem to need it.”

He frowned, bemused. “So, what, you’re upset that I’m self-sufficient and successful? I thought women looked for stuff like that in mates. I married a crazy woman.”

“Ummm.” Arianne stood. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Vonda.” She crossed the room to where the feisty septuagenarian was entertaining people with tall tales about her father and uncles trying unsuccessfully to brew their own alcohol during Prohibition.

Gesturing toward the spot his sister had just vacated and looking somewhat abashed, David asked, “Mind if I sit there?”

A little, but it wasn’t as if she could make him sit on the floor without it appearing weird. Then again, he’d just called her crazy so maybe she was entitled. “Suit yourself.” They still had a number of prenuptial festivities, a family Christmas and the wedding itself to get through—she could be mature about this. Even if being so close to David exasperated her, aroused her and made her want to cry all at the same time. He’s right. I am a little crazy.

Amy and Steve arrived a few minutes later, and guests went back for second helpings. Thirds, in the case of a few of the guys. Once everyone was stuffed, Amy declared that it was time for the Soon-to-be-Newlywed game and passed out little pads of paper and pencils so that everyone could write down their answers.

Tanner leaned over to Lilah and loudly whispered, “No one told me there would be a quiz!”

She laughed. “You sound like my students.”

Amy explained that she was going to ask each couple the same questions and they would jot down a response, then compare at the end to see which pair had the highest number of matches.

Arianne smirked at Quinn from her folding chair across the room. “How awesome would it be if we won?”

Lilah laughed again. “I’m pretty sure I’d be traumatized to learn that two of my bridesmaids are more compatible than my husband and I.”

“We playin’ for money?” Vonda wanted to know.

Amy shook her head. “Just gloating rights.”

“That works, too,” Vonda said gleefully.

The first question was, Where did you meet? Rachel thought back to the diner where she’d seen David, the memory so vivid she could smell chicken-fried steak cooking. His smile had been bright enough she could practically sunbathe in it. The second question, What’s your song? was more difficult.

She frowned. “What if you don’t have one?”

“Make something up,” Arianne called back. “That’s what I’m doing.”

Lilah giggled. “You’re both lucky. I first fell for Tanner in the era of boy bands and mix tapes. What seemed soulful to me then now seems cheesy enough to serve on crackers.”

“Hey!” Tanner glanced up from his pad of paper, looking offended.

Lilah kissed his cheek. “But I like cheese.”

Rachel continued staring at her own piece of paper. She and David hadn’t dated long enough to go through the courtship rites of stuff like mix tapes. Everything for them had happened quickly. Except getting pregnant. She knew girlfriends in college defined a couple’s song by what had been playing on the radio the first time they had sex, but there hadn’t been music on in the background when she and David made love. It had been at his old apartment, on a rainy afternoon.

In a whisper so faint even she could barely hear it, David murmured, “‘Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head’?”

Rachel blushed. Somehow knowing that they were both reliving the same interlude was nearly as intimate as the act itself had been.

“Hey,” Steve objected from the other side of the room. “No signaling partners over there.”

Next they had to remember when they last kissed each other. Rachel warmed at the memory of this morning, pressed against the wall of Winnie’s hallway, feeling her body come back to erotic life after numbingly frustrating months of hibernation.

“Can Ari and I be excused from this one?” Quinn asked wryly.

While everyone was chuckling, Rachel stood. “I, ah, just need to borrow your restroom, Sandra, but you guys go ahead and play without me. I’m happy to let someone else win the gloating rights.”

David narrowed his eyes at her. “Quitter.” His tone was light, but she read a wealth of accusation into it.

Had she been wrong to leave? It had seemed so agonizingly clear at the time, but in the wake of this morning’s news and the flood of memories this afternoon, Rachel was confused. She knew that she and David had loved each other, but she also knew that they had problems, not a misunderstanding over whether one of them had flirted with someone else or an argument because one of them never put their socks in the hamper. Could they meet each other’s emotional needs without hurting each other?

Still, it was seductive, the what if? that whispered in her ear as she watched Lilah open presents later that afternoon. Sandra had repeated the old wives’ tale that the number of ribbons the bride broke foretold the number of children the newlyweds would eventually have. At the mention of babies, Rachel found herself unconsciously rubbing her abdomen. If David gave her time and space to figure out what she wanted, if he could truly hear her perspective and understand it, could this be them in seven or eight months? Surrounded by friends, grinning at each other, eating off pink and blue plates with booties printed on them instead of pale gold plates with interlocking rings?

She just didn’t know. If David really thought she was a crazy quitter who got overemotional and didn’t appreciate what a good thing he’d had … well, then, no wonder he hadn’t fought to save their marriage.

Chapter Seven

Just going for a run, nothing more. Definitely not stalking. The rationalization had seemed more convincing in the foyer of his own house as David laced up his running shoes Monday morning. After all, he went jogging at least three times a week. No ulterior motives there. Of course, he didn’t normally go in an endless loop up and down Winnie’s street, hoping for a glimpse of his wife.

Was she still sleeping, like most of the neighborhood, or had the dogs already awakened her? Was she experiencing nausea? Rachel hated to throw up. He supposed everyone did, but she’d fought it during the flu and one bout of food poisoning when he’d reminded her she’d feel better if she just got it over with. He wished he could bring her a cold cloth or glass of water or something.

David hated feeling useless, helpless. The way he’d felt for nearly a year.

It had been so frustrating watching his wife slip away, becoming practically a stranger. Once upon a time, they’d tackled problems together. Since the miscarriage, everything had changed. If he could have suffered it for her or shielded her from that loss … But there’d been nothing he could do. She’d seemed so unreachable, and he’d felt angry and impotent. Eventually she’d suggested they try again, she’d started smiling on a daily basis and, although most people assumed she was all right, she hadn’t been the same. After being so frustrated at being shut out, neither had he.

David had wondered if what they were doing—the medical appointments, the physical side effects of the treatment, the emotional and financial cost—was worth it. He and Rachel had a lot of love to give and it seemed as if adoption would be so much easier. When he’d told her that, she’d distanced herself even more. Her emotional rebuffs had infuriated him, reducing him to a glorified sperm donor. She couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t lean on him anymore, but she could expect him to jump into her bed when the ovulation kits said it was time?

Pride. Was he really going to throw away a life with the woman he loved just because she’d hurt his feelings?

He’d handled this all wrong. When she’d told him their marriage was faltering, that she didn’t think she could do this anymore, he’d honestly thought some distance might be good for both of them. Deep down, though, he’d never accepted it as the end. He’d believed—just thinking it made him feel petty, but Rachel’s absence was forcing some hard truths—he’d believed she would see how much she needed him, that she’d blamed him for things that weren’t his fault and would come home. He would forgive her, wait a respectable period of time, then try to persuade her to pursue the reasonable course of adoption.

Her walking out had hurt his male ego, stunting his emotional response. Other than snapping at her once or twice, he’d barely had a response. How much time did he have to repair his mistakes—nine months? Less.

There was a light on in Winnie’s house now, and he stared at it, hoping no one mistook him for a prowler. What if he didn’t have until the baby was born but only a matter of weeks? Would Rachel follow through on her plan to leave after the wedding? What if she didn’t intend to have the baby in Mistletoe?

David’s heart raced, and it had nothing to do with his so-called run. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through his veins. I have to get them back. She’d fallen in love with a take-charge guy who’d taken one look at her and set about wooing her. He was still that man.

And he refused to lose his wife.

“WHOA.” May let out a low whistle as she glanced from the front door to Rachel, who was installing a new ink cartridge in one of their printers. “Since I haven’t had a hot date in months, I’m guessing those are for you.”