Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) (26 page)

I’m
not sure better was the right word for it, but the following week I found
myself inundated with floral deliveries with cryptic messages every day at my
office. Because all I needed was the gossip it caused.

Monday’s
note read, “Please take these the right way.” Tuesday’s bouquet looked like the
Fourth of July. The note read, “America’s favorite pastime has nothing on you.”
I guess that was his way of saying he liked me more than baseball. I guess that
meant something.

Liza,
our receptionist, was in a tizzy. Every time she carried back a delivery, she
was salivating to know who they were from. “All Alan says is that the orders
are coming from Denver and they’re anonymous. I would say you have a secret
admirer, but the first note sounds like the last delivery you got a few months
ago. So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Are
you reading the cards before you bring these to me?” I gave her the evil eye.

She
wasn’t ashamed in the least. She and Cheyenne could have been sisters. “Do you
know how boring my job is?”

“Are
you saying you want to look for new employment?”

“How
about I fill Jon’s spot as a customer service rep?”

I
hadn’t thought about Liza filling that position. Despite her headiness, she was
good with people and she was working on her license. “How about we discuss that
over lunch on Friday?”

She
beamed. “Maybe then you could tell me who the flowers are from.”

“Thank
you, Liza.” I politely dismissed her.

She
backed out of my office with a look that told me she wasn’t going to let it go
and that she would be spreading the news. Andrew was still doing his best to insert
himself into my life, whether he was present or not.

Wednesday,
the third delivery, was a bouquet of stunning red roses and a card that quoted
Anne Brontë, a favorite of mine—
He that dares not grasp the thorn, should
never crave the rose
. After that, I broke down and called Bryant’s number
on the off chance I could catch Andrew. It was a good bet—I swore they were
attached at the hip.

“Is
Andrew available?”

He
didn’t say a word, just handed over the phone to Andrew like I was a nuisance.

“I
was wondering how long it would take you to call me.”

“Thank
you for the flowers, and for remembering one of my favorite poets.”

“I
remember everything you tell me.”

“I
should probably let you go.”

“Probably.
Hang in here with me, please?”

“I’m
trying.”

“I
miss you.”

“I
know.” And I did know, but it didn’t make it any easier. It also didn’t help
that the grapevine was buzzing. Everyone wanted to know who the mystery man was
that was sending me flowers. I would have to thank Andrew for that later. I was
going to especially thank him after my hair appointment Thursday night with
Cheyenne.

I
knew from the moment she had me in her chair I was in trouble. Her stiff stance
and shrewd eyes said something was off. I was feeling a little worried when I
looked at the sharp scissors on her stand.

She
looked at me in the mirror and her intimidating eyes caught mine. “So, what
will it be today, Rachel?”

I
shifted uncomfortably in my chair under her scrutinizing gaze. “Is everything
all right?”

“I
don’t know. You tell me.” She sounded ready to pounce.

I
craned my neck around to actually look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her
eyes began to flood with tears. I had never seen her cry.

“Cheyenne?”

She
stood stoic, and it was like she commanded the tears not to fall. “You could
have told me.”

I
ripped off the cape I was wearing and stood up. My heart was racing. I knew she
knew, but I was surprised by her reaction. She could have almost any guy, and
she’d had almost every guy Merryton and the surrounding communities offered.
“Can we talk in your office?”

Without
a word, she marched toward her office. I trailed behind her, praying and hoping
no one else in this town knew besides those I’d personally told. I almost
feared for my life when I entered her office and she closed and locked the door
behind us.

We
didn’t bother sitting. She stood there, towering over me in her leopard print
heels. How she stood on those all day I would never know.

“Cheyenne,
it’s not what you think.”

“Then
what other reason would Andrew Turner’s mother be at your home?”

I
stood stunned for a moment that she knew that.

She
must have recognized the confusion in my features. “I saw her leave your
house.”

“Evelyn
Turner and I are friends.”

“Friends?”
She looked like she wanted to throw something.

“Cheyenne,
I’m going to tell you something that you must keep quiet. It’s important to my
family.”

It
was her turn to look surprised. Her features softened at the request. “I
haven’t told anyone about your visitor.”

“I
appreciate that more than you know.”

“So
spill, Rachel. I can put two and two together. I know those flowers aren’t
coming from anyone in this town, or from Eric Kessler, who’s taken with you, by
the way.”

I
narrowed my eyes. “What?”

She
rolled hers like it was so obvious. “He asked to be over advertising for your little
spring carnival because he knew you would be involved. You need to keep up with
the town gossip.”

I
shook that thought out of my head. I had bigger fish to fry. “The town gossip
is going to consume me soon. I’ve been avoiding it.”

“What
did you think would happen if you dated Andrew Turner?”

She
said his name with such vehemence. But having her toss it out there like that
hit me in the pit of my stomach. “There’s more to the story.”

“You
knew how I felt about him.”

Her
vulnerability made me feel even worse. “Cheyenne, he’s Drew’s father.”

Her
eyebrows almost hit her hairline.

“He
came to see me in the fall. Sydney had left him a note before she died. Before
that visit, he didn’t know Drew existed.”

“Why
have you been keeping that a secret?”

“I’m
sure you’ve seen on the news that he’s running for office. If it gets out now,
Drew is going to become a pawn in a sick political game and I won’t let that
happen. And despite Sydney’s failings, I won’t let her name be fodder for the
presses. Drew doesn’t even know the truth. He only thinks of Andrew as his
friend.” It was my turn for tears. I hated keeping all these secrets, even
though I felt like I had to, and I hated that I hurt my friend. I took
Cheyenne’s hands. “I didn’t know you felt so deeply about him. And believe me,
I didn’t mean to get involved with him. I meant to hate him, but he kind of
steamrolled over that.”

“I
wouldn’t have minded getting some of that action.”

“It’s
not all it’s cracked up to be. I haven’t seen him in weeks and I can’t even
call him without his campaign manager getting involved. I really am sorry,
Cheyenne. I didn’t think you were serious about pursuing a relationship with
him.”

A
tear escaped her eye and she brushed it off with a ferocious flick. “I just
don’t get it. I always seem to be on the losing end.”

“What
do you mean? You date more than anyone I know.”

“No
one that takes me seriously.”

“I
didn’t think you wanted a serious relationship.”

“Yeah,
well, neither did I.”

I
reached out and placed my hand on her arm. “Well, maybe you’re looking in the
wrong places.”

“No.
It’s just men like Easton and Andrew don’t give me a second look. I don’t get
it. I’m successful and beautiful. I don’t even come with any rules, like most
of those prissy women.”

I
loved that she could so easily see that she was gorgeous. Not many of us do, me
included. “Are you calling me prissy?”

She
smiled closed-lipped.

I
took that as a yes. I wasn’t offended. “Cheyenne, maybe your problem is that
you give men the impression they can get away with anything.”

She
arched her eyebrow like a Hollywood starlet.

“I’m
not talking about sex. Men need to know that you have expectations and that you
actually care. Don’t get me wrong, over the years I’ve admired your ability to
move through men like you do so easily, but if that’s not what you want, then
you need to set the bar with them, and don’t expect anything less. You deserve
the best.”

“How
about Andrew?”

We
both laughed.

“He
may be up for grabs depending on how we survive the election.”

She
rolled her gorgeous eyes. “By the size and quantity of the floral arrangements
I’ve heard about, I would say he’s taken.”

I
rubbed my face. “I don’t know. I always planned on being single, definitely not
seeing a baseball player, or worse, a politician.”

I
could see the longing in her eyes. Andrew was her kind of man. I was still
surprised he had been put off by her. “Maybe he could set me up with one of his
friends.”

“I’ll
get a list and start screening them.”

“I
usually would say no, but I’m impressed with you snagging Andrew.”

“Gee,
thanks.”

“Don’t
get me wrong, under all your mom garb you’re gorgeous, but you don’t exactly
scream his type.”

Direct
hit to my heart. “I know. We better get back to cutting my hair.” I walked
toward her office door.

She
grabbed my arm on the way out. “Andrew Turner would be so lucky. Now let’s go
give you a rockin’ haircut. We’ll show up all those Denver socialites.”

I
walked out of Cheyenne’s salon looking like a million bucks. Cheyenne had a
gift. She added in long layers that gave me some bounce and she convinced me to
do some subtle highlights. She was a hair genius.

I
may have felt a little guilty, too. I had no idea Cheyenne was so serious about
Andrew. And maybe she wasn’t serious about him, but she wanted someone like
him. She wanted what everyone in our group had, besides me—a person she could
build a life with. I think the news was as much a surprise to her as it was to
me. I didn’t even know she had working tear ducts. Maybe Jessie and Abby did,
they were the closest to her.

Regardless,
I hoped she found what she was looking for. That man, whoever he was, was in
for the ride of his life.

“You’re
really talented.”

Every
time Eric complimented me I was worried that he meant more, or that he was
angling for more. Cheyenne’s words kept ringing in my head. I kept watching him
as we ate lunch together again in the school cafeteria. He smiled at me a lot,
but it could be that he was a happy guy in general. “Thank you,” I replied. I
tried to keep it bland. I wasn’t in the mood for men. It was Valentine’s Day,
and all I got was a text saying,
Happy Valentine’s Day. I’ll call you
tomorrow.
Yeah, tomorrow after you’ve done the bachelor auction for
Children’s Hospital. So what if it was a worthy cause and it meant nothing? How
would he like it if I auctioned myself off, or maybe even flirted with the
attractive man in front of me?

Eric
kept studying my flyer. I had to say I was pleased with how it turned out. “So,
were you an art major in school?”

“No.
I have a degree in business.”

“That
makes sense. Maybe you could come and show my class some of your techniques.”

I
thought about how that would look. I already guessed we were probably gossiped
about in the teacher’s breakroom. The rumor was that Eric was the one who had
sent me the flowers last month, even though no teacher’s salary would allow for
that. “I’m not a professional, and I haven’t taken an art class in years.”

He
held up the flyer with depictions of Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of
Liberty, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “You look like a pro to me.”

“You’re
being kind.”

He
reached across the lunch table and ran his fingers across my hand. “No, I’m
not.”

I
placed my hands in my lap. Why did he have to make it awkward? “I should
probably head over to Drew’s classroom. I’m helping with his class party
today.” I stood up.

He
followed my lead. “I should head back to my room, too.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a children’s Valentine with a lollipop through it. He
held it out for me. “This is for you.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his face
broke out in red splotches.

I
took the Valentine as quick as I could. Less prying eyes to see that way.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”

He
shrugged his shoulders. “It’s only a sucker.”

And
the only gift I was getting on Valentine’s Day. Not that I expected anything—well
maybe some flowers or a phone call would have been nice. I took the wrapping
off the small treat and popped it in my mouth. “Cherry is my favorite. Thank
you.”

He
met my eyes this time. “You’re welcome. Maybe we can meet next week to discuss
how and where we want to distribute the flyers?”

“I’ll
check my schedule and let you know.” I hustled out of there to the stares of
many adults in the room. So much for flying below the Merryton radar. Why did
men have to complicate everything?

Drew’s
class party was the typical sugarfest interspersed with silly games like heart-shaped
tic-tac-toe and “Love” bingo. I was enjoying watching Drew interact with his
classmates, especially Gage, who still wasn’t always used to the simple
pleasures in life. He had never even played tic-tac-toe. Drew was helping him
and then letting him win. So maybe I was doing an okay job as a mom.

I
was almost out of my sour mood until Drew’s teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, approached
me when there was a lull in the activity—meaning the cupcakes had been served.
She handed me a piece of paper. “Drew’s a great kid. And he’s so excited about
you getting married. I didn’t know you and Eric were so serious.”

I
dropped the paper before I could even look at it. I was in shock. Where was
this coming from? I bent down and picked up the paper. I noticed the title—My
New Dad. My heart stopped, then broke as I read part of it.

I
can’t tell who he is, but he is awesome. He plays with me and buys me lots of
cool stuff. Right now he is busy with his job. He helps people. When I get
older I want to be just like him.

I
had to stop there and wipe the tears out of my eyes before it got out of
control. I looked up to find Mrs. Jenkins staring at me with interest. “Eric
and I aren’t dating. This paper isn’t about him.”

She
looked mildly surprised. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m
not getting married.”

Her
surprise turned to concern. “I wonder why Drew would turn in this paper. I
asked the children to pick one of their parents or guardians to write about.”

That
killed me. Now Andrew, who Drew didn’t even know was his dad, ranked above me.
And why did Drew think Andrew was going to be his dad? I looked over to Drew to
find him stuffing a chocolate cupcake in his mouth. What could I tell his
teacher? I was so over the deception. “He wrote this paper about his biological
father.” I was going to let the cards fall where they may. I was telling Drew
the truth.

I
thought her eyes might pop out of their sockets. “I wasn’t aware you knew who
that was.”

“We
didn’t until recently. Excuse me. I’m going to check Drew out early.” I didn’t
wait for her response. I coaxed Drew into leaving with a promise of a movie and
pizza. He would be my date for the night. I was thinking permanently.

I
left Andrew several messages on his personal cell phone. I was going to give
him one more opportunity to come clean with our son before I did.

I
did my best to remain unemotional about the day’s events. I wanted a fun
evening with my son before the chaos ensued. I hoped the Merryton vine didn’t
reach outside of our sleepy town, but Drew was going to know the truth.

 I
kept staring at my son through dinner, wondering how he was going to take the
news and why he thought Andrew was going to be his new dad. Had he overheard us
talk? Did we only think we were being covert? As the evening wore on, I was
more and more upset with myself and Andrew. I thought I was protecting my son,
but in the long run, it wasn’t him I had been protecting at all.

I
checked my phone several times during the new animated movie in theaters that
was out. No response from Andrew. I rudely texted during the show that he
needed to call me as soon as possible. Crickets on his end.

I
debated that night while I tucked Drew in if I should tell him, or if I should
give Andrew one more day. I knew he was busy at the bachelor auction, so I
decided to give him a little breathing room, but the oxygen was about ready to
run out.

I
kissed Drew’s brow extra-long. “I love you more than infinity.”

“You
said it wrong.”

“No,
I didn’t.”

“I
love you more than infinity plus one.”

I
was glad to hear that. My eyes watered. “Goodnight, bud.”

I
sat in bed that night. Sleep was not coming. I already had texts from my
friends that the word was out—Drew had a father. The only question was who. The
ones who already knew gave their condolences.
What had I done?

I
peered down at the sketch I had been working on. I took it from the picture I
had taken over Christmas. Andrew and Drew were sleeping soundly amongst all the
unwrapped gifts and torn wrapping paper. Andrew was holding onto the ball Drew
had given him. It was the sweetest scene ever. I was planning on giving it to
Andrew for a Valentine’s Day gift, but I wasn’t sure our already fragile
non-existent relationship was going to survive. All I cared about at the moment
was my son. My son who longed for a father.

I
thought about turning on the television for noise, but I wanted to avoid any
coverage of the bachelor auction. Instead, I stared at the sketch. I remembered
thinking that Christmas Day that we could really be a family. That we could
make our worlds come together.

My
door creeped open at eleven. I could tell right away I had a sick child on my
hands. Drew was holding his stomach and moaning. My first thought was that he
had eaten too many sweets at his party today, but as he neared, I wasn’t so
sure. He climbed into bed with me and I felt the heat coming off him. I kissed
his forehead and it was hot to the touch.

“Mom,
I don’t feel good,” he moaned.

“Do
you feel like you need to throw up?”

He
nodded. “It hurts so bad.” He placed his hand over his bellybutton region.

“Let’s
go in the bathroom.” I didn’t want to clean vomit out of my bedding.

He
could barely move and collapsed on one of my bathroom rugs as soon as we
entered.

I
grabbed our thermometer and placed it in his ear. It beeped almost instantly.
The result, 103.1 degrees. Not good.

“I’m
going to run a lukewarm bath for you.”

“No,
Mom. I don’t want to move.”

I
lay down next to him and stroked his hair. He was shivering from the fever.
“Honey, we need to get your fever down.”

“It
hurts, it hurts,” he wailed.

Maybe
he just needed to vomit, but he wasn’t acting like this was a run-of-the-mill
stomach bug.

“I’m
going to call Dr. Cole.” I hated calling him at home so late, but I knew he
wouldn’t mind. I only hoped I didn’t disturb any of his family.

“Don’t
leave me, Mommy.”

I
knew it was bad. He never called me mommy anymore. “I’m right here baby, I’m
just going to grab my phone.” I ran to my bedroom and back to my son. I sat down
next to him and stroked his hair while I dialed with my free hand.

My
poor baby kept moaning in pain while holding onto his middle section.

Within
two rings, Easton answered.

“I’m
sorry to call so late, but Drew is really sick. His fever’s over 103, and he’s
complaining that his bellybutton hurts.” That all came out in a rush. I hoped
he got it.

“Check
his abdomen. Does it look bloated? Have him point to the pain.”

I
lifted up Drew’s shirt and checked out his belly. “I think it is. Drew, can you
point to where it hurts the most?”

He
was barely able complete the task.

“He’s
pointing to the right side of his bellybutton. He says he feels like he needs
to vomit, but he hasn’t yet.”

“Sounds
like he may have appendicitis. You need to get him to the hospital.”

It
was times like these when someone else who wasn’t me kicked in. If it were me,
I would have panicked. “I don’t know if I can get him to the car. He doesn’t
want to move and I can’t lift him anymore.”

“I’ll
be right there.” Easton didn’t even have to think about it. He was a good man.

“Thank
you,” I eked out.