A Season of Angels (17 page)

The toast was poised in front of Andrew's mouth and he slowly lowered it to his plate. He didn't say anything for several moments. “How late are you?”

“I don't know. I threw away my notebook, remember?”

“Surely you can figure it out.”

“Can you?”

He shook his head. “I guess not. It doesn't matter though, does it? If you're pregnant we'll both be happy.”

“And if I'm not?” she asked, watching him expectantly.

“Then you're not,” he concluded, munching on the toast. He made it sound as if it didn't matter to him one way or another. Leah knew that wasn't true, not after having had Scotty with them for two days. Andrew was wonderful with children. He deserved to be a father. The familiar ache returned but the intensity wasn't as strong as it had been. The pain that had been so much a part of her all these years seemed to peel away and disappear.

She'd experienced this sensation only once before—the night she'd met Andrew.

She remembered the first time she saw him. They were both college students attending the University of Washington. Some friends had introduced them and the minute they'd exchanged greetings Leah felt a powerful emotional punch. She wished there was a word to describe the feeling that came over her. It was as if fate had given her a swift kick where she'd feel it.

From that moment on she knew this man was going to be an important part of her life. Afterward she discounted the feeling, chalking it up to the beer she'd had earlier. Andrew was steadily dating someone else at the time and she'd heard rumors that he was close to becoming engaged.

They ran into each other soon after that at the library. Leah was struggling with a chemistry class, certain she was going to fail. The library was the only place she could study and so she made the nightly trek across campus to hit the books.

Andrew had been grappling over a term paper and they'd sat at the same table for nearly two hours without speaking a word. Leah had wanted to get to know him better, but hadn't exchanged more than a preliminary hello, good-to-see-you-again sort of chitchat.

Andrew left first, whispered something about being glad to see her again, and was gone. But when she'd walked out of the library he was waiting for her. A couple of friends had delayed him, he explained, and besides he didn't think it was a good idea for her to walk across the campus alone in the dark. So he escorted her back to her dorm.

They continued to meet nightly at the library long after his term paper had been turned in and graded. Later Andrew told her she was the only girl he'd ever dated who helped improve his GPA. He'd done more studying with her than any other woman he'd ever dated.

Leah didn't know when she realized she was in love with him. The night they'd met seemed a good choice. She just knew.

Just as she knew now, in the deepest most sheltered part of her heart, that she was going to have a child.

Leah didn't question where this knowledge came from. It wasn't intuition, or instinct, or anything psychic, but a deep abiding belief that her time of waiting had come to an end.

“I suppose you're going to buy one of those home pregnancy test kits,” Andrew said, frowning, as he carried his empty plate to the sink. He rinsed it off and stuck it in the dishwasher.

They'd been through this procedure no less than a dozen times over the years. The minute she was a day late, Leah typically ran to the drugstore, needing to know the answer as soon as possible. For all the test kits she'd purchased over the years, she should be entitled to a discount.

“Not this time,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Like you said, if I'm pregnant, great, and if not, well, then I'm not.” She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I love you.”

He didn't answer her right away. Instead he carefully studied her upturned face. “Something's different.”

“It is?” she asked, beaming him a smile.

“I don't know what, but it's there in your eyes.”

Leah knew what it was. She was pregnant. Oh, heaven help her, she was diving into the deep end again and she hadn't meant for that to happen.

She knew she was pregnant. Felt it to the very marrow of her bones, but she'd believed the same thing a hundred times before.

Now was different. The feeling she had now was as powerful as the night she met Andrew, but she couldn't allow her sanity to rest on something as immeasurable as a feeling.

“You're sure you're all right?” he asked, looking concerned.

“I feel wonderful,” she said, tightly hugging her husband's waist. She closed her eyes, praying with all her heart that this wasn't a sick joke her mind was playing on her.

F
rom the moment she'd received the call claiming Jeff was alive, Jody had dreaded contacting her mother-in-law. She carefully bided her time and waited until Timmy was down for the night. Even then it had taken Jody another half hour to fortify her courage enough to reach for the phone. She didn't know where she'd find the grit to face Jeff's mother when she was in one of these moods.

“Hello, Gloria,” Jody said calmly, knowing she'd probably woken her mother-in-law from a sound sleep.

“Jody,” she said groggily, “is that you?” Not giving her time to answer, she immediately continued. “I'm so pleased you called me back. I know this news is as much of a shock to you as it is me, but—”

“Gloria,” Jody cut in calmly, unwilling to listen to any more. Her only chance of reaching Jeff's mother was when she sounded composed and confident. “Jeff is dead.”

Someone had played the cruelest of hoaxes on them. “Who phoned you?” Jody demanded, and a telltale wobble came into her voice, betraying her slipping poise.

“I didn't get his name,” Gloria explained. “You see, I was so excited that I wasn't thinking clearly, but he sounded very professional. He gave me details.”

“What sort of details?” It was clear this line of questioning was flustering Jeff's mother all the more, but for the sake of them all Jody had to get to the bottom of this.

“I can't really tell you right this minute.”

“Did he say where he was calling from?” Jody asked more calmly this time.

“Oh, yes, he was in Germany. Such a nice young man. You see, the call woke me in the middle of the night. I didn't believe him at first and then the more he talked the more I realized he was telling the truth. Jeff is alive. In my heart I always knew he was and now it's coming to pass.”

“But wouldn't the authorities have contacted me?” Jody asked.

“I . . . don't know, dear. Maybe it has something to do with the divorce.”

“But surely they'd want me to know. After all, Timmy is Jeff's son.”

“I can't answer your questions, Jody. All I know is what they said.”

“And what was that?”

“I should have written everything down, but I was too excited, and I'm on this new heart medication that makes my mind go all fuzzy at times.”

Jody's grip on the phone relaxed. “Was this one of those times, Mom?” she asked softly.

“Oh, no, this was all very real. I thought to call you right away, but—”

“But you didn't,” Jody concluded when the older woman hesitated.

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“And why didn't you?”

“Because,” Gloria said, following a heartfelt sigh, “I knew you wouldn't believe me, and I was afraid we would end up arguing and I do so hate the thought of us disagreeing. You and Timmy are the only family I have left.”

Left.
The details were quickly tallying in Jody's mind. Her mother-in-law was taking a new heart medication, one that, at times, confused her and she'd been woken abruptly from a sound sleep. The episode was probably a very lifelike dream. Not entirely sure the phone call had happened herself, Gloria had delayed contacting Jody until the following evening.

Because she'd been so desperate to believe her son was alive, Jeff's mother had clung to the dream, building it in her mind, until she'd convinced herself it was authentic.

“Have you heard from anyone since?” Jody asked softly.

“No. You think I should have, don't you?”

“It doesn't matter what I think. What do you believe?”

Speaking on the phone had always been an inadequate means of communication as far as Jody was concerned. She heard the faint intake of breath that came from her mother-in-law and knew Gloria was weeping softly. How Jody wished she could be there to wrap her arms around her and comfort her.

Jody had needed consolation herself the night before when Gloria had first phoned and there'd been a strong pair of arms to hold her. It had helped tremendously.

“How's Timmy?” her mother-in-law asked in an apparent effort to change the subject. “I bet he's getting excited for Christmas.”

“Timmy's great.” Jody couldn't talk about her rambunctious son and not smile. “We chopped down a Christmas tree this weekend.”

“All by yourselves?”

Jody hesitated, unsure if she should mention Glen or not. This didn't seem to be the appropriate time to drop the news that she was dating again, although heaven knew it was well past the time she should.

“A friend went along and helped,” she answered, being as diplomatic as she could.

“A friend,” Gloria repeated slowly, thoughtfully. “Male or female?”

“Male.” She couldn't leave it at that. She'd need to explain now. “Glen's an attorney who works at the same law firm I do.”

“I see.” Funny how much was visible in those two brief words. “Just how long have you been dating this . . . other man?”

“Mom, it isn't like that. We've only been out a couple of times, but it isn't anything . . .” She stopped herself in time from saying “serious.” Glen was serious. He'd said as much from the first. He wanted a wife and family. Timmy wanted and needed a father figure. She needed a husband. One who would laugh with her, one who would hold her when she needed to be held. One who would fill the empty spaces of her heart.

“Everything's becoming clear to me now,” Gloria said stiffly. “No wonder you don't want to hear about Jeff. You're involved with another man.”

“Mother, that's not true.” This was an impossible conversation, and growing more so every minute. The immediate sense of guilt she experienced was nearly crippling.

“The man who called from Germany knew that you'd divorced my son.”

“Mother, we've been through this a thousand times or more. I didn't divorce Jeff because I didn't love him any longer. It was for financial reasons.”

“I was never satisfied with that excuse and you know it. Both your parents and I were more than willing to support you.”

“Mom, please—”

“The man who called asked me about you and Timmy.”

“Mom, don't, please,” Jody whispered, her small voice trembling. “It was a dream. It never happened.”

“He did call.” Gloria's high voice rattled from the telephone receiver. “Jeff's alive.”

“I realize it's difficult for you to accept that I'm dating again, but it's time I got on with my life. Don't you think I've grieved long enough? Don't you think it's time?” Despite her resolve not to break down, she was crying. It happened like this nearly every time they spoke.

“I imagine you plan to marry this other man?” Gloria continued, her voice filled with disdain.

“I never said that.”

“You can remarry, you know, there's nothing I can do to stop you.”

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” Jody said, bewildered and miserable, looking for a means of ending the conversation.

“That would make for a fine thing for my son to come home to, his wife married to another man.”

“Mom, please don't say that.”

“You know what I think?” Gloria said accusingly, knowing she had the upper hand. “You don't want Jeff to be alive. You've made such a fine life for yourself that it would be inconvenient for you if he did turn up alive.”

“You know that's not true,” Jody sobbed.

“Do I, now? You have your new boyfriend, you don't need Jeff anymore.”

“Glen is a friend,” she insisted.

“That isn't what you said earlier.”

“I think it's time we ended this,” Jody said, struggling for what little composure remained.

“That's just fine with me. But I think you should know, I'm going to tell Jeff myself just what kind of wife you turned out to be. He's going to call me soon, and then I'll tell him. Then he'll know the truth about you.”

Chapter 14

L
eah walked into her house and was greeted with the fresh, pungent scent of evergreen. The decorator had arrived and set up the Christmas tree, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

The flocked tree looked as if it belonged in the foyer of a classy hotel. Glossy gold bows were strung in one continuous ribbon from top to bottom. Bright red porcelain poinsettia flowers were symmetrically placed. And then there were the angels. Leah counted twelve. In gold gowns with massive white wings, each one playing a musical instrument. A guitar, a harp, a saxophone, a tuba, and flute. A horn and trombone. It became a game to find each one hidden among the heavy white limbs.

“You're home,” Andrew said, ambling into the living room from the kitchen. “Well,” he said, his gaze following hers toward the Christmas tree, “what do you think?”

“It's beautiful.”

“I thought so too.”

She hung her coat in the closet.

“Debbi outdid herself this year,” Andrew said, bending over and turning on the tree lights. Ten strings of miniature red globes glowed, casting warm shadows about the room.

The decorator was a friend of Andrew's mother. As part of her Christmas gift to Andrew and Leah, Shirley Lundberg had their Christmas tree decorated.

“I love the angels,” Leah said, slipping her arm around her husband's waist and pressing her head to his shoulder.

“How'd your day go?”

There was far more to the question than what he was asking. What Andrew wanted to know was if she was feeling the same queasy sensation she had the last few days both in the mornings and late in the afternoons. He was asking if her period had started. In sum he wanted to know if she was pregnant.

“My day was great, how about yours?” she asked, smiling up at him.

His gaze skirted past hers. “Let's sit down,” he suggested. With a flip of the switch, the gas fireplace roared to life and tongues of fire licked at the imitation logs.

Together they sank into the soft comfort of the leather sofa. Andrew's arm was tucked around her shoulders and he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “I've been thinking,” he began.

“This sounds ominous.”

He chuckled, but she noticed his laughter contained a dash of concern. “I'd feel a whole lot more comfortable if we got one of those pregnancy test kits,” he continued.

“Why does it matter?” she asked, laughing off his request. “We'll know sooner or later, won't we?”

“You've been on this emotional high all week and I'm afraid if it continues much longer—”

“But I am pregnant,” she said with supreme confidence. “I know it's finally happening for us. There's never been any physical reason why we can't have children. Dr. Benoit assured us of that countless times. How many times has he claimed all we need do is relax and that it'll happen when we least expect it? I don't know about you, Andrew, but I'm floored by this.”

“Leah, please, listen to reason.”

“Our time of waiting has passed,” she insisted, unwilling to listen to his arguments.

“If you're so certain, then it won't matter if you take the test now or later, will it?” Andrew pressed.

“I'm not going to buy another one of those awful test kits. I hate them.” She eased herself away from him and stiffly folded her arms. They'd been through this routine countless times and the result had always been devastatingly the same.

Negative.

No matter how long she studied the results she couldn't make them read what she yearned for so desperately. No, she wouldn't subject herself to that again.

“Leah, please. I just don't want you to get yourself worked up over this. You're a few days late and already—”

“I don't know that I'm late. You don't either. To my way of thinking, you're making more of this than necessary. As you said before, if I'm pregnant, great, if not, well, then I'm not pregnant.”

He was uncharacteristically silent, but Leah knew her husband well enough to recognize how deceptive this calm could be.

“Let me do this my way,” she asked, reaching for his hand and kissing his knuckles.

He didn't respond immediately. “I can't stand by and watch you do this to yourself. How many times have you gone through this?” he demanded. “It's always the same and each time your hopes go a little higher and you fall a little harder. Each time it takes you longer to recover.”

Leah knew what he was saying was true, but this was different. This time she'd throw back her head and shout for joy. This time her heart and her soul would be left intact. How she wished there was some way to reassure Andrew.

“I don't want you to worry about me,” she said.

“I am worried.”

She leaned against him. “Don't, please.”

“Does this mean you won't take the home pregnancy test?” The fire crackled in the distance adding punctuation to his request.

She hated to refuse him anything, but it was necessary. Those tests dredged up far too many unpleasant memories. That was all in the past, and her future, their future, was spilling over with promise.

“No, Andrew, I won't. Not this time.” She threw her arms into the air and fell backward so that she was sprawled across his lap, smiling up into his face. “Now kiss me, you fool.”

He closed his eyes as though to blot her out. “Leah, for the love of—”

She didn't allow him to finish, but gripped hold of his neck and levered herself upward until her mouth met his. As familiar as she was with her husband's body, Leah knew exactly what she needed to do to evoke a strong and positive response.

“Leah.” Her name became a helpless plea.

“I have this incredible urge to ravish you,” she whispered, opening the buttons of his neatly pressed dress shirt. He groaned when her hands met his warm skin.

“Dinner,” he managed, between slow, deep kisses.

“What about it?” she asked, rotating her hands around to his back. His heart was pounding hard and fast, but then so was her own.

“Can wait,” he told her brokenly.

Leah smiled softly to herself. “That's what I thought.”

I
t wasn't until she was dressing for work the following morning that Leah found the pregnancy test kit. How long it had been sitting on the bathroom counter she could only speculate. Probably from the night before.

The night before. A small, satisfied smile lit up her eyes. They might be an old married couple, but the lovemaking couldn't get more incredible or more romantic than beneath a glowing Christmas tree in front of a flickering fire.

She carried the test kit into the kitchen with her and set it down on the kitchen table in front of her husband. “Is this a hint?”

“As broad as I can make it,” he said, and finished his glass of orange juice. “For the love of heaven, let's get this agony over with.”

It was then that Leah knew.

In the beginning she was afraid he was worried about her building her hopes upon a foundation of sand. But it was more than that. Andrew was suffering the torment of the unknown himself.

For years, Andrew had disguised his feelings, not allowing her to guess how very much he wanted children.

He was studying her now, his features sharp and anxious. “How much longer will you wait?”

She wanted to make some flippant reply, some casual remark that they could both laugh away, but it wouldn't work.

“If it'll ease your mind,” she said, disliking even this small compromise, “I'll make an appointment with Dr. Benoit right away.” The physician, however dear, produced a flood of unhappy memories. She couldn't think of him and not remember the months of hormone shots, the ultrasound, and everything else they'd attempted over the last seven years.

“All right, call your doctor friend,” Andrew said, but he didn't sound especially pleased. He wanted to know. The sooner the better.

Not so with Leah. She'd already received all the confirmation she needed.

M
onica had been standing in the cold, sounding the bell for charitable donations, for nearly forty-five minutes. She was cold, her feet hurt, and she was almost convinced Chet wouldn't show.

Not after her father had caught him walking out of their yard in the dead of night. Worse, she'd been left to speculate what had happened. Her father had remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the incident. She'd tried once to pry information from him, but to no avail. Any further questions and he'd guess that her interest was more than normal curiosity.

Monica felt Chet's presence several seconds before he came into view. Her body was developing a kind of sonar when it came to locating him. Her spirits lifted immediately and she drew in a deep breath and whispered a soft prayer of thankfulness.

“Hello,” she whispered, when he strolled up to the bright red pot and slipped a twenty-dollar bill inside.

“We need to talk,” he murmured, not looking at her.

“I know.”

“Can you meet me afterwards?”

“Of course.” She was in love and a woman in love would do whatever was necessary to be with her man. “Your apartment?” she asked, loving to tease him.

“No.” The word was sharp and instant.

Monica couldn't help it, she laughed. “Where?”

“Pier Fifty-six. I'll be waiting for you at the restaurant. There's a table way in the back, closest to the water.”

She nodded eagerly. “I shouldn't be much longer.”

“I'll see you there,” he murmured, and before she could say another word, he was gone. The man was like a magician. He could appear and disappear at the drop of a hat, or so it seemed.

Twenty minutes later, Monica was hurrying downhill, toward the Seattle waterfront. She raced across the street, promising herself she'd stop on her way to the bus stop and look at the Christmas display in Nordstrom's window. She'd heard it was angels this year, perched atop a train set that circled a frothy cloud. Stars shone bright from above. Another window was the traditional Santa's elves at the North Pole and Mrs. Claus baking sugar cookies.

Chet was sitting at the table, waiting for her. Puget Sound showed through the huge plate-glass window behind him. The sky was blue and clear and the ferry had just pulled away from the dock. The scene was lovely and for a moment she studied the tranquil waters.

“I'm so glad to see you,” she said. She slipped out of her coat and waited a moment, wondering how long it would take Chet to notice her new dress, but he seemed preoccupied and said nothing. Monica was a bit hurt, but let it pass.

“I'm dying for a cup of coffee,” she said.

Chet waved for the waitress, who carried the glass pot over to the table. “Do you want something to eat?” he asked Monica.

She shook her head. “Just coffee for me, thanks.”

“Me too.” The waitress refilled his cup and poured hers.

Chet smiled over at her and the same intense look was back, the one she'd noticed earlier. His frown deepened as if he'd become aware of a change.

“Something's different,” he said, studying her.

Monica beamed proudly. He had noticed. “I'm wearing a little makeup,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “Out of the blue I got a call from Donna Watkins, a lady from church. She invited me to lunch. Donna's wonderful with clothes and scarves and pretty pins. . . . I didn't always think so, but that doesn't matter now. She claimed she was getting dressed that morning and had the irrepressible urge to call me and invite me out.

“After lunch she took me shopping. I bought the dress and”—she tossed back her head to expose her earlobes—“these. They're lovely, aren't they?”

Chet's eyebrows shot toward his hair line at the sight of the small gold earrings. “I thought you claimed jewelry was a tool of the devil.”

She might have thought that at one time, but would never have said so, at least not publicly. “Don't be ridiculous. I said that if a woman opted to wear jewels, then whatever she chose should enhance a meek and gentle spirit.”

“Earrings do all that?”

He was teasing her, but she didn't mind. “I think so. Donna did too, but then she had on these huge Christmas tree decorations. They're wild. As far as I can see, each woman is left to her own interpretation of this.”

She took a sip of coffee, grateful for the warmth it offered her. “Do you like the dress?” She tried to make light of it, but her heart was dangling precariously on her sleeve. Everything she'd bought that afternoon had been with Chet in mind. Each time she stepped before the mirror, her first thought had been what he would think when he saw her.

“It's very pretty.”

It wasn't much as compliments went, but enough. “It's the first thing I've had in years that isn't black, gray, or navy blue. Donna says I'm a summer, if you know what that means. I didn't until she explained, but basically I should be wearing pastels, pinks, pale blues, and the like.”

Chet nodded, but looked distracted, as if this summer business were beyond him.

“I'm sorry,” she said, setting her cup down hard in the saucer, “I didn't mean to get sidetracked. Tell me what happened with my dad.” She was breathless with anticipation. “He didn't say a word to me.”

“Nothing happened.”

Chet certainly seemed to be uncommunicative this afternoon. “Nothing?” she demanded. There was more to this than met the eye.

“I explained I was a private investigator and had cut through his yard. I apologized for the intrusion. As far as I could tell he believed me. After he'd read over my license he went back into the house.”

“That was it?” Surely there was something more. It wasn't her imagination, her father had been unnecessarily quiet all morning. He seemed preoccupied and absentminded. When she mentioned meeting Donna for an early lunch, he'd encouraged her, and even sounded pleased. He insisted she needn't come back to the office when she'd finished. Since she was volunteering downtown, she should go directly there.