Baby Blessed

  “No.” Jordan’s response was immediate and strong. “That’s not true. I love you, Molly. I’ve never been able to stop loving you.”

  How she managed to hold on to her composure she didn’t know. “My baby isn’t a mistake, Jordan, not to me.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Her hand trembled as she raised it to her face, to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eye. “I’m hoping we can both be mature enough to accept each other’s opinion.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

  She lowered her head and a tear fell onto the table. “I know.”

  His hand reached for hers. “I’d better go.”

  Just the way he said it made her suspect he wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to suggest he stay.

  Jordan was about to walk out of her life and she was about to let him. Another tear fell, followed by another and then another.

  Jordan got up and made his way out of the room. He paused abruptly in the doorway, his hands knotted at his sides. He stood there for so long that Molly looked up at him. His back was stiff, his shoulders tense.

  “Can I come and see you again?”

  Tightness gripped her throat and when she spoke her voice squeaked. “All right.”

  He left then, and Molly wondered if they were simply prolonging the inevitable.

  Sometimes loving each other wasn’t enough.

  Perhaps the kindest thing she could do was cut her losses now and set them both free.

  * * *

  Jordan sat in front of a set of blueprints, drinking a beer. His mind wasn’t on his construction company and hadn’t been from the moment Molly came back into his life.

  He’d left her apartment barely two hours ago and already he was wondering how soon he could manufacture an excuse to see her again.

  He’d managed to hold off for a week and it’d nearly killed him to stay away that long. He doubted he’d last another seven-day stretch without seeing her, without holding and kissing her again. He could live without lovemaking, but he couldn’t live without her.

  Jordan wasn’t a man who felt inept around women. He knew he was reasonably good-looking and that women generally considered him attractive.

  It wasn’t anything he wanted to brag to Molly about, but he could have found plenty of solace after she’d moved out on him, if he’d wanted.

  He hadn’t.

  That was the crux of the problem. He’d never wanted another woman from the day he’d met Molly Houghton, fresh out of college. He knew the moment they were introduced that this woman with eyes the color of a summer sky would change his life.

  For a while he’d convinced himself that he cared for Lesley, and he did, as a friend. But they’d never been lovers, never shared the deep love and intimacy that had been so much a part of his relationship with Molly. He’d attempted to fool himself into thinking he could put his marriage behind him and make a new life. Lesley had fallen in with his scheme, eager to get married. She’d admitted it herself.

  Jordan sipped his beer, wrinkled his nose and set the bottle aside. He didn’t like beer, had never liked beer. The only reason he kept it on hand was for his project superintendent, Paul Phelps, who sometimes dropped by the house.

  Come to think of it, the last time Jordan had indulged in a beer had been when he and Molly had last lived together and had disagreed about something. He emptied the bottle into the sink.

  Maybe Molly was right.

  She seemed to think that all they needed was for him to feel the pain of losing Jeffrey. Which left him to wonder what he’d been doing for the past four years.

  No, Molly was wrong. He hadn’t denied Jeffrey’s existence. He couldn’t. True, he’d disposed of Jeffrey’s personal things, but he’d done so in an agony of grief, believing it would be easier for them to deal with their son’s death if they weren’t constantly reminded of what they’d lost. In retrospect he could understand why it had been a mistake. They’d both made blunders in the frantic days after their son’s funeral.

  For all the unknowns Jordan faced, there were an equal number of facts he did recognize. Molly’s pregnancy leaped to mind, bright as the noonday sun, blinding him with the glare of truth.

  He’d longed to push all thoughts of this baby from his mind, and to some extent he’d succeeded. But he was well aware that his marriage was doomed if his attitude didn’t change, and change fast.

  Until tonight, he hadn’t seen Molly in a week, and even in that short time he noticed the subtle changes in her body. It was easy to deny the baby when the evidence was quietly hidden from view. But the baby was making itself more and more evident as time progressed. Soon Molly would be wearing maternity clothes, and every time he looked at her he’d be reminded of the child.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. Despite what Molly felt, what she wanted, he couldn’t force himself to believe this pregnancy was anything but a mistake.

  The thought of Molly pregnant depressed him. Needing to escape, Jordan reached for his jacket and left the house. He was in his truck, driving with no destination in mind, before he pulled onto the side of the road and parked. There was no place he could run. No place he could hide.

  Gripping the steering wheel, he closed his eyes and desperately sought a solution. He waited several minutes for his breathing to relax and his racing heart to return to its normal pace.

  The temptation to turn his back on the whole situation was strong. He could move his company to another city. The Pacific Northwest appealed to him. In a few years he could establish himself in Seattle, or maybe Portland. Molly could continue to live here in Chicago and come visit him on weekends. He’d find someone she trusted to leave the baby with. Molly might object, but—

  The sheer idiocy of the idea struck him and he expelled a sigh and restarted the truck. His thoughts as troubled as when he’d left, Jordan returned to the house.

  He sat down in front of the television, and it was a long time before he moved. When he did, it was to turn off the set and go to bed, knowing he’d solved nothing.

  * * *

  “Dad,” Molly said as he led her by the hand into her childhood room. “What did you do, buy out the store?” Her bed was heaped with every piece of clothing the baby could possibly need, in addition to a car seat, stroller and high chair.

  “You said you didn’t have anything other than the crib.”

  “I certainly didn’t expect you to go out and buy it.”

  “Why not? I’m a wealthy old man, and if I can’t indulge my grandchild, what’s the use of having all this money?”

  “Oh, Daddy,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. He, at least, shared her excitement about the baby. It was all becoming so much more real now that she could feel the baby’s movements. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Molly and her father spent the next hour examining each and every item he’d purchased. She held up a newborn-size T-shirt and nearly laughed out loud. “Can you imagine anybody this tiny?”

  “That’s what I said to the salesclerk.”

  There were several blankets, all in pastel colors.

  “Have you had an ultrasound yet?” her father asked, sounding eager.

  “I’ve had two.” Dr. Anderson was being extra cautious with this pregnancy, trying to reassure her as much as possible.

  “And?” her father prompted.

  “If you’re hoping I’ll reveal the baby’s sex, I can’t. I told Dr. Anderson not to tell me. I don’t care if the baby’s a boy or a girl.” She realized that in all this time Jordan hadn’t once inquired about the baby’s sex, although she’d mentioned the ultrasounds. He didn’t want to know—because he wanted nothing to do with their child.

  She tried not to think about Jordan in connection with the baby since that resulted in a lengthy bout of unhappiness.

  “From that frown, I’d say you’re thinking about Jordan,” her father s
aid, breaking into her thoughts.

  Molly nodded.

  “How are things between the two of you?”

  “I’m not sure.” Rather than raise Ian’s hopes for a reconciliation, Molly had decided to play it safe.

  “You’re seeing him on a regular basis now, aren’t you?”

  Molly nodded, holding one of the receiving blankets against her before refolding it and placing it inside the protective covering. “At first he made a point of stopping by once a week, but it’s more often now.”

  She wouldn’t be surprised if Jordan showed up at her apartment after she got home. She hoped he would because she was going to need help carrying all the things her father had bought into the house.

  “Come downstairs and have a cup of tea with me before you drive home,” Ian coaxed.

  Molly followed him down the stairs. As she did, she could barely see her toes. She wasn’t fully six months pregnant and already she was experiencing some of the minor discomforts of the third trimester. Her feet swelled almost every day now and she’d decided to request a schedule change for part-time employment after Thanksgiving.

  “You haven’t mentioned your friend Dr. Stern lately,” her father said casually. “How’s he doing?”

  “Just great. We had lunch together last week, and he was telling me about a woman he recently met through a colleague of his. They seemed to hit it off and he’s taking her to dinner this week.” Molly smiled to herself as she recalled their conversation. David had sounded as excited as a teenage boy about to borrow his father’s car for the first time. Molly was pleased for him.

  David had been a good friend and exactly what she’d needed those first few weeks. They’d had plenty of in-depth discussions since the day they’d bumped into each other at her cousin’s wedding. He still called her occasionally, but he no longer had any romantic expectations, which was just as well.

  “He’s a good man,” her father commented, carrying his cup of tea and her glass of milk to the kitchen table. He chuckled softly. “Jordan came to see me, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Her father gave her a sly smile. “He was afraid it was too late and you and David were already in love.”

  “When was that?”

  Ian cocked his head as he mulled over his answer. “I can’t precisely remember, but it was a number of weeks back. Don’t get me wrong—I think of Jordan as a son—but there are times I’d like to slap that boy silly.”

  “I’ll hold him down for you,” Molly volunteered, and Ian chuckled.

  “How’s he treating you?” her father asked.

  “With kid gloves.” She didn’t want to say too much for fear Ian might decide to take matters into his own hands. Jordan had made progress. Not much, but he was trying. She had to believe that or she wouldn’t be able to continue seeing him.

  “I love him, Dad.”

  “I know, sweetheart, and he loves you. Somehow I don’t think he even realizes how much.” Deep in thought, her father sipped his tea. “Be patient with him, Molly.”

  “I’m trying, Dad. So is Jordan.”

  “Good.”

  Ian helped her load the car, and before she left his house Molly phoned Jordan’s home number.

  “Hello,” he answered gruffly on the second ring.

  “Hi,” she said. It was the first time she’d called him, preferring to let him set the course of their relationship, at least at this stage. She felt self-conscious now, with her father blatantly listening in, and wished she’d waited to contact Jordan until after she’d arrived home.

  “Molly. I came by earlier and you weren’t home. And you didn’t answer your cell.”

  “I’m still not home. And I turned my cell off.” So she’d guessed right. Jordan had sought her out. He’d taken her to a movie on Saturday and brought Chinese takeout when he stopped by the house Sunday afternoon. Monday he was going out of town for a brief business trip, and he told her not to expect to hear from him.

  “According to call display, you’re at your dad’s.”

  “Yeah. Listen, he went on a shopping spree and I’m going to need some help unloading my car. Can I bribe you with the offer of dinner?”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Jordan, your house is a good ten minutes from mine, and that’s in light traffic.”

  “I know that. I intend to speed. I’ve missed you. In fact, I think we should give serious consideration to moving in together. This going back and forth is ridiculous.”

  Molly’s heart cheered at the news, but she didn’t say anything one way or the other. It was too soon, but the suggestion was tempting.

  Jordan was waiting for her in front of her duplex when she drove up. She’d barely had time to put the car in Park when he opened the driver’s door and all but lifted her out of the car.

  Not giving her time to protest, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her as if they’d been apart for months instead of days. When he’d finished Molly clung breathlessly to him.

  Jordan buried his face in her neck. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you can hardly wait for me to take you to bed.”

  Molly blushed profusely, because that was exactly the way she felt. They hadn’t made love in weeks, not since the night they’d spent together. The night they’d argued.…

  The subject had been on both their minds since then. Molly couldn’t have Jordan touch her and not want him to continue. She was certain he felt the same physical pull she did.

  The lovemaking had always been good between them, and Molly knew it could easily become addictive, again.

  Reluctantly she stepped out of his arms. “I’ll unlock the door,” she said, hurrying away from him.

  Jordan opened the back door of her car and piled his arms full of sacks. “What is all this stuff?” he asked, following her up the brick walkway that led to her half of the duplex. “Why did he buy so much?”

  Molly didn’t answer right away and entered the apartment, turning on light switches as she went. She paused in the baby’s bedroom. She’d decorated it with love and care, eager for his or her arrival.

  “Dad’s looking forward to being a grandfather again” was the only explanation she gave.

  Jordan stood in the nursery doorway, his arms loaded down. For a long moment he didn’t step beyond the threshold. Molly turned and waited, her heart pounding, echoing in her ears. After what seemed like an eternity, he came into the room and dropped the packages in the crib, then hurried back out.

  Together they must have made five more trips.

  “It looks like he bought out the store,” Jordan complained as he brought in the box that contained the high chair.

  “I said the same thing.” Molly laughed. She was hoping Jordan would agree to assemble the chair for her, but she’d suggest it later.

  “Like I told you, Dad’s getting excited.” So was she, but she found no such enthusiasm in her husband.

  Jordan nodded, and decisively closed the door to the nursery.

  Discouraged, Molly went into the kitchen. She didn’t want to argue, not tonight. She was tired and she’d missed him.

  “Do you need help with dinner?” he asked.

  Molly shook her head. Hoping inspiration would strike as to what she’d make for dinner, she opened the refrigerator and gazed inside.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” Jordan said. His arms came around her from behind. “It’s crazy for us to live apart when we’re husband and wife. I want you in my home and in my bed. I love you, Molly, and you love me.”

  “I …don’t think it’s a good idea. Not yet.”

  Jordan turned her around and kissed her, backing her against the refrigerator door.

  “I …was going to cook dinner.”

  “Later,” he said between kisses.

  Molly was having trouble keeping a clear head. When she found the strength, she pulled her mo
uth from his. “You must be starved by now,” she gasped.

  Jordan directed her lips back to his. “You haven’t got a clue how hungry I am.” He slipped his arms around her waist, or what remained of her waist, and started to slide them up.

  She knew what he intended to do, and she was intent on letting him, when the baby kicked hard. Jordan obviously felt it, too.

  He went still and then expelled his breath loudly. His head fell forward until he’d braced his forehead against her shoulder.

  “Jeffrey used to do that, too, remember?” It was risky mentioning their son.

  Jordan nodded. Moving away from her, he managed to offer her a shaky smile.

  “What was that you were saying about dinner?”

  Eleven

  Dipping the crisp dill pickle into the butter-brickle ice cream, Molly swirled it around and brought the coated pickle to her mouth. After she sucked off the ice cream, she repeated the process. Pregnant women craving pickles and ice cream—it might be a cliché, but like most clichés it had some basis in truth.

  Wearing her robe and black silk pajamas, she stood in the kitchen, depressed and miserable. She hadn’t heard from Jordan in three days. Three of the longest days of her life.

  He’d helped her unload her car and stayed for dinner, but quickly made an excuse to leave immediately afterward. She hadn’t seen him since. Hadn’t received so much as a phone call.

  Something had been bothering him from the moment he’d held her and felt the baby kick. He’d tried to hide his distress, but Molly knew. Until that evening, he’d ignored the fact that she was pregnant. He couldn’t do that anymore. Not with the evidence so…evident.

  Molly patted her swollen abdomen. The time had come for Jordan to make his decision about her and the baby. Perhaps that was what had kept him away.

  The countdown had started for them and their marriage. Jordan had to decide what he wanted. It was either love and accept this child or—God, please, no—go through with the divorce.