Hold on My Heart (15 page)

A swell of adoration wrapped around Libby. She looked at him, sitting there with his shirt pushed wide open looking very much like a sexy man, and all she wanted to do was climb back on his lap. “I’m sorry about this,” she said.

Tom gave a little shake of his head. “Babies don’t wait.”

He would know about that, wouldn’t he? He’d had one. It was easy to forget he was somebody’s dad when she saw him here in the moonlight with the button of his jeans undone. But he was. And she realized she didn’t really mind that at all.

T
he maternity waiting room at Monroe General Hospital was decorated with bunnies and kittens, just as Libby might have imagined, had she ever given any thought to that sort of thing. Tom was perched on the edge of a baby-blue vinyl chair when she walked in. He looked as tired as she felt.

“Well, Ginny is all settled in her room, and Ben is with her,” she said, sinking into the chair next to him. “Thank you so much. This would have been twice the adventure without your help.”

It had been a mad scramble getting her sister and brother-in-law to the hospital, but Ben sobered up pretty quickly once he realized this was no drill. And Tom’s cool thinking kept everyone’s panic at a manageable level.

Libby leaned back in her seat and looked at his broad shoulders. They were like mountains. He was hunched over a little, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’m glad to help, but you would’ve managed fine once Ben was upright.”

Her chuckle ended with a sigh. “Not quite how you and I expected this night to end, though, huh?”

He shook his head and looked down into the paper coffee cup he held in his hands. He tipped it back and drank the rest. “Not quite. Listen, I’m going to head out now. Okay? You called your parents, right? They should be here soon.”

She put a hand on his back, and his muscles tensed beneath her touch. Something unwelcome knocked against Libby’s good mood.

He turned and gave her a faint smile that faded fast, and suddenly all of his walls were back up. Reinforced.

There were a lot of reasons that might be, and Libby wasn’t sure what to say. She only knew she didn’t like his frowning. They’d had a good time tonight. A great time, in fact. A time that would’ve gotten even better if Ginny hadn’t called. But suddenly Libby felt very far away from those moments in his truck.

Tom stood, and her hand dropped to the chair.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He looked down at her, his expression guarded.

Unease rippled through her core. “Are you okay?”

He crumpled the empty coffee cup in his hand and stared at it like he wasn’t sure why he was holding it. “As good as I ever am in a hospital at four o’clock in the morning.”

She sat forward, a little stung by his mood. She hadn’t asked him to come. He’d insisted, but regret was splashed all over his face. She gestured to the empty waiting room. “I’m sorry about all this.”

He shook his head and tossed the cup into a nearby wastebasket. “Don’t be sorry. It’s probably a good thing we got interrupted when we did.”

It didn’t feel good at all. It felt awkward and scratchy. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead. “A good thing?”

“Don’t you think?” His tone formed an edge.

“Um…” Libby stood up and faced him. “Not really. I was pretty happy with where things were heading tonight. Weren’t you?”

He rubbed his hand across his jaw, now rough with whiskers. “Tonight was… reckless.”

“Awesome?” she said at the same time.

“Reckless,” he said again. “Libby. I’m just…” Tension creased lines across his forehead.

The old Tom was back, the one who didn’t say much with words but spoke volumes with his silence.

“Let me guess. It’s complicated, right?”

He paused. “Yeah.”

His resistance was a force field, but she’d broken through it once. She’d do it again. “I’m pretty good at puzzles. I think I can figure you out.”

He shook his head again. “I have professionals working on that. I’d rather you didn’t get caught in the muck.”

That’s what he was doing? Trying to protect her? “Well, I appreciate that, but maybe I’ll just put on some waders and try it anyway.”

He met her gaze. “It would be easier for me if you didn’t.”

His voice was tender, but the words were rough as sandpaper scraping at her skin. And they didn’t sound all that different than Seth saying, “Don’t wait for me.”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks. “Oh. Oh, okay, I get it.”

“No, you don’t. Libby—”

“Tom! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Libby’s father came around the corner into the waiting room, his hair a little flat from sleeping.

Her mother was right behind him. “Goodness, it’s early. Why are babies always born so early? All three of you girls—oh, hello, Tom.”

Tom took a step back from Libby, and she felt the distance multiply with every breath.

“Hello, Peter. Bev. I was just on my way out. Looks like you’re about to become grandparents.”

“A blessed event,” her father said, yawning and nodding.

“Which room is Ginny’s?” Libby’s mother asked.

It took a second for Libby’s mouth to work. Her heart felt like clay, cracking as it dried.

Tom looked at the kitten wallpaper, and at his shoes, and avoided her.

Libby swallowed down her sigh and finally answered. “She’s down the hall. Come on, Mom. I’ll show you.”

“So how exactly did you get drafted into transportation service?” she heard her father ask as she and her mother moved down the hall, but Tom’s answer was too quiet to overhear.

Theodore Roosevelt Garner was born at 6:04 a.m., weighing in at a robust seven pounds, nine ounces—an impressive amount considering he was born almost three weeks ahead of schedule.

“Thank God you had him early,” Marti said from her pleather chair in the corner of Ginny’s hospital room. She stroked the baby’s cheek. “Imagine what a porker he’d have been if you cooked him any longer.”

“Stop touching his face, Marti. Did you wash your hands?” Ginny said from her bed.

“Germs,” said Nana from the other chair. “You mothers today are all too worried about germs. We used to play all day in the dirt and drink from a garden hose. And look at me. Eighty-six years old and still healthy as a mule.”

“And as stubborn as one,” Libby’s mother muttered to no one in particular.

It had been two days since Ginny delivered her baby, and the Hamilton women were gathered in her hospital room to coo and sigh.

And bitch.

“How fares the prince?” her father asked, poking his head in through the doorway.

Ginny smiled. “He’s perfect, Daddy. They’re letting us go home today.”

Libby’s dad lifted his brows and stepped into the room. “In that case, I’d better get back over to your place and finish putting together that baby swing. I have to stop by the ice-cream parlor first, though.”

He took a look at Marti with a baby nestled in her arms and blanched. He turned to Libby instead. “Want to come with me?”

To the ice-cream parlor?

Where Tom was working?

She hadn’t talked to him since he’d left the hospital just before the baby was born. She’d thought he might try to call. They’d left some very pleasant business unpleasantly unfinished, and now that she’d had a couple of days to stew about things, she couldn’t help but think his change in attitude had been triggered by all this baby stuff. It must have been a little overwhelming for him when his own baby was just out of reach. Not to mention how a late-night visit to a hospital may have stirred up distressing memories.

He hadn’t told her any details about his car accident, and it didn’t feel right to ask. She didn’t want to push him where he wasn’t ready to go, or force herself on him if he wasn’t interested. But he’d seemed interested enough when her bra was dangling from his rearview mirror.

Plus she just plain missed him. She missed Tom Murphy in a way she had never missed Seth. That concept gnawed at her. Maybe there wasn’t much point in it if Tom didn’t miss her back, and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. The memory of his urgent kisses and the heat of his skin
under her hands was impossible to block from her mind. Not that she’d tried.

“Sure, I’ll come with you.”

Tom’s truck was there when Libby and her father arrived. A foolish but irrepressible bubble of hope rose within her. Tom had been tired and overwhelmed at the hospital. Surely by now he’d had time to get his bearings.

Her father grabbed a long coil of rope from the backseat of the car before they headed inside.

“What’s the rope for?” she asked, her curiosity percolating.

“I’m going to tie it to the bell so I can ring it.”

She felt a blip of relief. Her family had all been studiously mute about the fact that she’d been with Tom Murphy at two o’clock in the morning, yet for a second there she’d thought maybe her dad was about to string him up for making improper advances. Although technically, she’d done most of the advancing.

“Uh, I’m not sure the neighbors around here want to hear that bell. Isn’t there a noise ordinance or something?”

“First of all, there are no neighbors close to here. Second, that ordinance question would be an excellent thing for you to look into.”

He chuckled at her sigh as they climbed the steps.

Tom was inside, his back to the door as he measured a board across a couple of old sawhorses. Her heart hiccupped at the sight of him in his faded jeans and the blue shirt he often wore, the one with the tiny hole in the shoulder seam that she found herself wanting to sew for him, which was hilarious since she could hardly thread a needle.

This attraction to him was as impossible to ignore as it was illogical to pursue.

“Greetings, Tom. The proud grandfather has arrived.” Her father adjusted the rope he’d slung over his shoulder.

Tom’s smile did not quite reach his eyes.

She’d hoped for an enthusiastic welcome, some hint he’d reconsidered those words from the hospital and was glad to see her, but her wishful thinking clunked inside her, like driving with a flat tire.

“Congratulations. How’s Ginny?” Tom adjusted a pencil behind his ear and glanced her way.

Her father beamed. “Mother and child are both doing well, thank you. And Ben has been forgiven. Thanks for helping out that night. You are quite the hero.”

Tom looked her way again, his glance wary as if he was worried she’d told everyone about their
reckless
behavior. Her ire rose a bit. They hadn’t done anything wrong. A few kisses in the dark that he seemed determined to forget about.

“Just in the right place at the right time,” Tom answered.

She found his words utterly ironic.

“Well, nonetheless, our family is beholden to you,” her father said. “Now I’m going to take this old rope and tie it to the bell so I might herald my grandson’s birth.”

Tom frowned and reached out to take it. “That bell is pretty high up there, Peter. Why don’t you let me do that?”

“Nonsense. I may be a grandfather, but I can still stand on a chair and tie a good solid knot. I’ll holler if I need you.”

Tom looked like he wanted to argue, but Libby knew the bell wasn’t that high up. Her dad could handle it. It was pretty obvious Tom knew that, too.