Finding Faith

  Linn shut the register drawer and passed the last order to Adam. As he made the espresso, his movements were sure and precise, his hands strong and capable.

  There I go again. I have got to stop this.

  What she really needed right now were friends, and Adam would make a great friend. If he even wanted to be a friend, that is.

  Linn grabbed the dishrag from the sink and ran it over the counter where a few drops had spilled during their rush. It looked like there was going to be a lull. Too bad she didn’t have to go to the rest room. Adam said this past week had been busier than usual since it was nearly Christmas. Apparently the holiday hadn’t put a crimp in anyone else’s budget. But her own wallet was so thin that a kindergartner could count its contents.

  Adam pushed the latte across the counter. “Skinny vanilla latte,” he called.

  The last customer took the drink, throwing a flirtatious smile toward Adam, even though she was at least ten years too old for him. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Linn wanted to whack the woman with the wet rag. Instead, she closed her eyes and shook her head. She needed to snap out of this. Was she getting some kind of silly crush on this guy? No way. She was just looking out after a friend, that’s all.

  “Ready to learn the fine art of espresso making?” Adam asked.

  Linn tossed the rag in the sink. “Sure.” She walked to the machine, where he showed her how to remove the portafilter that held the grounds. After he filled the portafilter with ground beans, he showed her how to use the tamper to press the grounds down and put the portafilter back in.

  She’d watched him do it a hundred times before, but this time she was standing close enough to see exactly what he was doing. And he wasn’t going so fast that she couldn’t take in every detail.

  Soon the robust, dark liquid was ready, and he poured it into the bottom of a cup. “If the customer wants a flavor”—he gestured to the Torani bottles lining the wall—“you can pour it in first while you’re waiting on the espresso. In fact, when we’re busy, if you’re working the register, you can go ahead and pour the flavoring.”

  “I should’ve been doing that for you all along.”

  “One thing at a time. You can’t learn it all in one day, you know.”

  His patience was a gift.

  When she’d trained at Bubba’s, she had a veteran waitress who was all snippy with her, as if she expected Linn to know everything the first day. But her dad had always been that way, too, so Linn was used to it.

  Adam showed her how to measure out the Torani, then poured it in the espresso he’d made a few minutes before. “Got it so far?”

  “I think so. Now the steamed milk?”

  “Exactly.” He demonstrated slowly the way the milk was steamed and explained how to read the thermometer. When it was ready, he poured the steamed milk into the cup and stirred. After he placed a lid on the drink, he held it up. “And voilá! The perfect latte.”

  “Too bad that one lady isn’t here, then, since we can’t seem to make hers perfect.”

  “This one’s for Joe. And I have a theory about people like that—people who complain all the time about the little stuff.”

  He leaned against the counter, something Linn had never seen him do. Normally he made himself busy even when they were slow.

  “I think they have no control over other things in their lives, and they’re frustrated with their inability to change things. So they harp over the little things. Maybe it makes them feel as if they have some say in their lives.”

  “That’s really intuitive. I hope to learn—”

  The ringing phone cut off her words.

  Adam reached for it before she could move. “Java Joe . . . Oh, hi.” He turned away from Linn.

  She grabbed the drink and took it to Joe, who was more than happy to see her bearing a cup of caffeine.

  When she returned to the front, there were still no customers, and Adam was getting off the phone.

  “OK, I’ll see you then, hon. Bye.”

  As he hung up, something heavy settled in Linn’s middle. She couldn’t miss the way he’d said “hon.” Some people used the word casually with just about anyone, but she hadn’t heard him call any of the customers by pet names.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “My fiancée couldn’t remember what time we were meeting tonight.”

  The smile Linn placed on her lips felt wooden and unnatural, but Adam didn’t seem to notice as he showed her how to clean the steamer. She hardly heard a word he said. Instead, her mind wrapped around one thought. If she really thought of Adam as a friend, why was her stomach suddenly as heavy as a bag of rocks?

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  The room was bright—so bright that Paula could hardly open her eyes.

  “Turn off the lights,” she said. But no one listened.

  She lifted her head from the table and scanned the sterile room. Uniformed people buzzed around, but no one looked her way. Didn’t they know she was the patient?

  She laid her head back against the metal table and closed her eyes against the light. She wished they would just hurry. She had to get back to work. Didn’t they know that? She didn’t have all day.

  When she opened her eyes, a man stood over her, wielding a pair of scissors . . . the pointy, haircutting kind. He was silhouetted against the fluorescent light, but she recognized him as her old boss at WKEV. What was Donald doing here?

  To her right was a stack of papers on the table. It was work she’d brought home and was supposed to have finished. She would have to do it afterward.

  Beside her, Donald spoke, but it was someone else’s voice. A deep, soothing voice that almost hypnotized. “It won’t take very long, Paula. Once we cut all the arteries”—he held up the shiny scissors—“we just lift out the heart and it’s over. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  Yes, everything would be fine. They did this kind of thing all the time. Once it was done, she could get back to work.

  Then she heard him snort. Her head jerked toward him, but it wasn’t Donald standing above her anymore. It was David. He shook his head at her.

  There was another snort, but it wasn’t coming from him. She looked around the room. What was that?

  It kept getting louder and louder . . .

  * * *

  Paula’s eyes flew open, and she stared, wide-eyed, into the dark. Moonlight shone through a large window.

  The bed she was lying on was not metal, but a soft mattress. Beside her, David’s body was a lump under the covers. His snores echoed across the master suite. She was home, in Jackson Hole, not in some hospital.

  She turned over, burrowing into the pillow. What a bizarre dream. They were taking out her heart, and she was nothing but calm and docile.

  A chill spread through her. She wrapped the comforter tightly around her, but nothing warded off the coldness that had settled inside her bones. As abstract as the dream had been, she knew what it was about.

  She couldn’t even say the word. Yes, she could. It was an abortion. There, she said it. She’d had an abortion, but that was all behind her. She just needed to shove it back down in its place. In the past, where it belonged.

  There was nothing she could do about it now but forget it. Her breaths came in gasps, and her teeth began to chatter. She remembered the way the day had really gone. There’d been no doctor wielding a pair of scissors or a stack of paperwork. It was all some crazy concoction of her subconscious.

  But her work had been involved in her decision. She’d been working toward a promotion and knew her career was about to take off. Her boss had a thing against working mothers. He was always complaining about how much time off they took for sick kids and snow days.

  David had been working insane hours trying to build a clientele. It was a terrible time to get pregnant. They’d agreed to wait to have children until they were both more established.

  When she found out, she was devastated. She’d been faithful about birth con
trol. How could this be happening?

  But David surprised her. She told him the news, thinking he’d be as disheartened as she, but a smile had spread across his unshaven face, and he swallowed her in a hug. To say she was stunned would be an understatement.

  After his reaction she didn’t have the nerve to tell him what she was thinking. A week after he found out, he brought home a miniature plastic hockey stick. His cheeks were flushed when he told her he bought it for their baby.

  She knew then she had to keep the pregnancy. David wanted this child. But they agreed to keep the news quiet until later, after the promotion had been announced. Paula knew she would never get the anchor chair at WKEV if her boss knew she was pregnant. So she wore suit coats that disguised the little belly she was getting.

  When she got the job, she was giddy for days. But then reality began to sink in. Donald would have a fit when he found out she was pregnant. And he would never recommend her for a better job, not the way he looked down on working mothers. Paula found herself resenting the pregnancy. It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten pregnant. She hadn’t been irresponsible or careless. Why did she have to risk her career while David got to experience all the benefits of fatherhood without jeopardizing his?

  When her boss asked her to go to Chicago for a convention, a plan began to form. At first she was shocked that she thought such a terrible thing. But in the weeks it took to plan the trip, the idea grew on her like a hardy vine, wrapping around her every thought.

  David would never agree to an abortion, she knew that. But if she miscarried, what could he do about it? And if it happened in Chicago, no one in Jackson Hole would have to know the truth.

  Paula’s skin prickled into goose flesh while the dream echoed through her mind like shouts across Dead Canyon.

  They hadn’t taken her heart that day—only a bunch of tissue.

  She tugged the covers off and sat up, feeling the ache behind her eyes that usually preceded a good cry. She had to stop thinking about this. It wasn’t doing any good at all. But the ache changed to a sting, and her vision grew blurry. She slipped off the bed carefully, so as not to awaken David.

  Her feet took the stairs quickly, and she put her hand over her mouth to smother the wail that begged to escape. She made it to the downstairs bathroom before she closed the door, sank onto the marble tile, and let it go.

  * * *

  Later that day Paula watched her mom cut Natalie’s hair. All the details were arranged for the wedding the next night, but tonight the family would celebrate Christmas together since Paula was flying back to Chicago on Christmas Day.

  From a quilt on the floor, Grace began stirring and let out a tiny squeak. Paula picked her up and cradled her. She stared down into the squinting blue eyes and her heart squeezed. Oh, how she and David had wanted a child. They’d tried for over a year before the tests, David’s test, had begun tearing them apart. Then the dream of a baby was put on the back burner as their marriage seemed to go up in flames.

  Her mom handed Natalie a mirror. The same faded sterling one that had hung on the bathroom wall for as long as Paula could remember. “How’s that?”

  Natalie turned from side to side, studying her naturally dark hair. “Perfect. Are you sure my roots don’t need to be done?”

  “Honey, if there’s any gray in there, I sure can’t see it.”

  “You look gorgeous, Nat,” Paula said. “I like the layers around your face.”

  Natalie handed the mirror back to their mom. “Thanks, Mom. You always do such a great job. The thought of going to a stranger makes me nervous.”

  Their mom was a licensed hair stylist, but she’d never worked in a salon. When the girls were growing up, women had come over regularly to their home to have their hair cut or colored. It was a little extra income for the family.

  “Hey, Nat,” Paula said, “do you remember when Mrs. Paxton used to come over to get her hair done?”

  “The beehive lady, you mean?”

  Her mom had always fixed the woman’s jet black hair up in a style so tall an eagle could’ve nested in it. “She always used to bring her son . . . what was his name?”

  Natalie laid both hands on her heart and sighed the name. “Lenny.”

  “Ah, yes, the elusive Lenny,” Paula said.

  “You girls had a crush on that boy?” Her mom swept up the cut hair with a broom. “He was a lot older than you.”

  “Did we ever,” Natalie said. “We used to hide behind the sofa and spy on him while you fixed Mrs. Paxton’s hair.”

  “I still think he liked me best,” Paula joked.

  “Ha! He didn’t give you the time of day.”

  “Like he did you.”

  “He used to wink at me when you weren’t looking.”

  “He did not.”

  “Girls, girls.” Their mom playfully swiped both their feet with the broom. “You’re too old for this.”

  “You’re right, Mother.” Paula stood, still cradling Grace, and pecked her mom’s cheek. She turned toward the living room, and as she passed Natalie, she whispered, “He did like me best.”

  “I heard that!” her mom called after her.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon the whole family gathered in the small home around the stone fireplace. Chairs were set up to accommodate their growing family, and the fragrance of pine and burning wood stirred up memories of Christmases past.

  Paula checked her watch. She’d hardly seen David all day. The rest of the family was there and waiting for her dad to read the Christmas story from the Bible.

  “Where’s David?” Hanna, her other sister, asked. She wore a rose-colored maternity sweater that draped over her rounded tummy.

  Paula shrugged. “He had showings today. I guess it’s taking longer than he thought.”

  “On the weekend before Christmas?” Micah asked. “Who’s looking for property this time of year?”

  “Apparently, some wealthy client from out of state.” Paula looked across the room at her dad. His wingtip shoes stuck out from a pair of Dockers. He had no taste whatsoever in shoes. “Dad, you might as well go ahead and start.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but a couple of knocks sounded at the door before it opened. David appeared, looking sheepish. “Merry Christmas, everyone. Sorry I’m late.”

  Her mom took his coat and fussed over him for a minute before everyone settled around the room. Her dad read the Christmas story while Nat’s two boys squirmed and Grace, cradled in her grandma’s arms, let out a few cries.

  Dinner was a flurry of activity. Paula and Natalie helped their mom and Gram get food on the table while Micah and Kyle guarded the presents from Alex and Taylor’s eager hands. With all the noise and talking, Paula wondered if her family noticed that David hadn’t said a word to her all evening. Her ponderings were answered, though, when she caught her mom studying her over pecan pie and an assortment of candies Hanna had made. Paula looked away before she could say anything.

  When all their bellies were crying out for mercy, they returned to the living room and began opening gifts. They opened them one at a time, savoring the moments they spent together.

  When David opened Paula’s gift, he held up the leather coat, his eyes shining briefly. It was exactly like the one he’d worn when they’d been dating. But shortly after they’d gotten married, it had been stolen from the coatrack of a restaurant where they’d been eating. She’d seen it at Banana Republic in downtown Chicago and had known he would love it.

  She watched him closely as he ran his fingers over the fine leather. Her heart betrayed her angst. She so wanted him to like the gift, to like her. To look at her the way he used to.

  Finally he turned toward her, his lips curved in a small smile. “Thanks. I love it.” He grabbed the wrapping paper and wadded it up in a ball before stuffing it in the garbage bag in the middle of the floor.

  She didn’t know whether to be grateful for the concession of a smile or disappointed that he hadn’t said
more. Surely he recognized this replica of his old coat as the peace offering it was. Her thoughts were swallowed in the mass chaos of gift opening.

  She looked beside her, where Nat was opening a small box. Next to her, Kyle held little Grace.

  “Who’s it from?” Paula asked.

  “It’s to Gracie from Linn.” From the amount of time it took Nat to open the box, it was apparent that the baby’s birth mother was fond of tape.

  Finally Nat pulled the box top off and clicked her tongue. “Oh, look, isn’t it precious?” She held up a tiny pink-and-white beaded bracelet with Grace spelled out with letter beads.

  “It’s so little,” Paula said.

  “Look, it stretches.” Natalie gently expanded the bracelet. “What a nice keepsake.” She held it up to Grace, and the baby’s eyes focused on it. “Look, precious. Look what your birth mommy sent you.”

  “When did it come?” Kyle asked.

  “Today. Just in time.” She looked at Paula. “That reminds me. I need to talk to you later, OK?”

  “Sure.” Before Paula could give it another thought, someone handed her a gift. She saw from the tag that it was from David. It was about the size of a book. She tore off the paper and saw from the box what it was: a PDA. Not a cheap gift by any means, but she couldn’t deny that her spirits sank quicker than a boulder in Jenny Lake.

  “Thanks, David.” She tried for a smile and told herself that at least he’d thought of her. But deep inside she wished for a gift whose box didn’t read “batteries not included.” Was it so wrong to want something more personal from her husband?

  “I thought you could use it to keep track of all your appointments.”

  “Good idea.” She smiled again, glad when someone handed him another gift. The PDA would have been a good idea if she was a planner like David. But she was one who flew by the seat of her pants. Didn’t he know even that much about her by now? Or was he just bent on making her into a clone of himself?