A Baby by Easter (2 page)

Before Connie could continue, David stopped her.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said softly. “I don't think she's well. She fainted when I opened the door and she's been shivering ever since.”

“Oh, dear.” Connie looked distracted. “Cora just gave me the nod. I need to get everyone seated.”

“Then go ahead. Darla and I will keep Ms. Susannah entertained until you're free.” David smiled at her. “Don't worry. Darla has everything under control. She's a nurse.”

“Ah.” Connie grinned in understanding and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “What would we do without Darla, David?”

“I don't know,” he answered her, perfectly serious. “Go enjoy dinner and don't worry about your friend. I'll look after her.”

“You always look after everyone.” Connie touched his cheek. “Thank you for all you do for us. You're a dear.”

David watched her hurry away. He couldn't help but envy Connie. She and Wade shared the kind of home he'd always wanted—one filled with love and joy, hope and the laughter of friends and family. But he shook
himself out of it. Having a family was a dream he'd given up.

For Darla.

He escaped to the kitchen. A whisper of concern that Darla might cause problems lingered at the back of his mind as he hurriedly filled a tray and carried it to the study. He hadn't gotten what she'd asked for, but she would have to manage. He pushed open the study door—and froze.

“You could marry Davy. He would look after you. He looks after me.” Darla's bright voice dropped. “He had a girlfriend. They were going to get married, but she didn't want me. She wanted Davy to send me away.”

David almost groaned. How had she found out? He'd been so careful—

“I'm sure your brother is very nice, Darla. And I'm glad he's taking care of you. But I don't want to marry him. I don't want to marry anyone,” Susannah said. “I only came to Connie's to see if I could stay here for a while.”

“But Davy needs someone to love him. Somebody else but me.” Darla's face crumpled, the way it always did before she lost her temper. David was about to step forward when Susannah reached out and hugged his sister.

“Thank you for offering, Darla. You're very generous. I think your brother is lucky to have you love him.” Susannah brushed the bangs from Darla's sad face. “If I end up staying with Connie, I promise I'll see you lots. We could go to that playground you talked about—” Susannah suddenly lurched up from the sofa and stumbled toward the bathroom. The door slammed closed.

“What's wrong?” Darla jumped to her feet. She saw
him and rushed over. “What's wrong with her, Davy? Did I do something?”

“No, sweetie. You didn't do anything.” He set the tray on a nearby table, then hugged Darla close. “I told you. She's sick.”

“But I don't want Susannah to be sick. I want us to be friends and do things together.” Tears welled in Darla's brown eyes. “Susannah doesn't think I'm dumb. She talks to me like you do, Davy.”

David could hardly stand the plaintive tone in his sister's voice. But he dared not promise Darla anything. Not until he'd learned a lot more about Susannah Wells.

As he hugged Darla, the sounds of retching penetrated the silence. Susannah sounded really ill. Maybe he should have ignored her wishes and called the doctor in anyway.

“Davy?” Darla peered up at him, her eyes glossy from tears. “Do you think she's going to die like Mama and Papa?”

“No, honey. Susannah's just sick. But she'll get better.” He squeezed her shoulders, wishing he could make everything right with Darla's world.

A moment later the bathroom door opened and Susannah emerged, paler than before, if that was even possible. She sat on the sofa gingerly, as if afraid she'd jar something loose.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn't have come.”

“Of course you should have come.” Connie breezed into the room and wrapped Susannah in her arms. “I'm so glad to see you, Suze. But you're ill.” She leaned back to study the circles of red now dotting Susannah's cheeks. “I'll call the doctor.”

“No.”

David noted Susannah's quick intake of breath,
the way she vehemently shook her head as her fingers clenched the sofa cushion. He wondered again why she was so nervous.

“But honey, you're obviously unwell. Maybe you have a virus.”

Susannah began to laugh, but tears soon fell and the laughter turned to sobs. “I don't have a virus, Connie.” She risked a quick look at David.

He understood immediately. He grasped Darla's hand.

“We'll leave you two alone.”

“No!” Darla jerked away from him and sat down beside Susannah. “I want to help my friend. Can I help you?” she asked quietly, sliding her fingers into Susannah's.

David had never seen his sister bond with anyone like this. He prayed Susannah wouldn't reject her offer of friendship.

“You already have helped me, Darla.” Susannah smiled. “You looked after me and helped me the way a very good friend would, even though I hardly know you.”

“I know you,” Darla insisted. “You're Sleeping Beauty.”

“I'm not really.” Susannah caressed Darla's cheek. She glanced at him, then Connie. “I'm just an idiot who's made another huge mistake.”

“Davy says everybody makes mistakes. He said that's how we learn.” Darla faced Connie. “I made a mistake and broke your lamp. I'm sorry.”

“That's okay, honey. You and I will go shopping for a new one.” Connie smiled her forgiveness, then turned back to Susannah. “Can you tell me what's wrong, Suze?
Because you're very pale and I still think you need to see a doctor.”

“I've already seen one.” The blond head dipped. “I know what's wrong with me.”

“Tell me and we'll do whatever it takes to get you well,” Connie promised.

“If only it were that easy,” Susannah whispered.

“There's me and Davy and Connie and Wade and Silver. That's lots of people to help.” Darla twisted, trying to peer into Susannah's face. “We can all help you. That's what friends do.”

David had to smile at the certainty in his sister's voice. But his smile quickly died.

“I'm pregnant.” The words burst out of Susannah in a rush. Then she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye, as if awaiting his condemnation.

But it wasn't condemnation David felt. It was hurt. He'd prayed so long, so hard, for a family, a wife, a child. And he'd lost all chance of that—not once, but twice.

How could God deny him the longing of his heart, yet give this homeless, ill woman a child she was in no way prepared to care for?

“Come on, Darla,” he said. “We're going home now. Connie and Susannah need to talk. Alone.”

Darla must have heard intransigence in his voice because she didn't argue. She leaned over and kissed both women on the cheek, whispered something to Susannah, then placidly followed him from the room. She walked home beside him in silence, peeking at him from time to time. It was only when they'd stepped through the front door that Darla finally spoke.

“I know what it means, Davy. Susannah's going to have a baby.”

“Yes.” He felt horrible about his attitude, but he just
didn't want to get involved with Connie's friend. He had enough responsibility with Darla. He couldn't—wouldn't—take on any more.

“Is it hard to have a baby?” she asked.

“Yes. I guess so.”

“Then we have to help Susannah, don't we? That's what the Bible says.” Darla took his hand and held it between hers. “She's my friend, and I want to help her.”

“I don't think there's much that we can do, sis.” Brain injury or not, Darla had always tried to fix the world. David loved that. Loved her. “It's not our problem.”

“Yes, it is our problem. We have to show love.” Darla let go of his hand and stepped back. Her face was set in stern lines, her dark eyes glowing with the unyielding resolve he'd run into before. “I'm going to help Susannah. I'm going to ask God to show me how.”

Then she turned and walked to her room, determination in every step.

David went into his study but he didn't turn on the lights. Instead he stood in the dark, thinking. Finally he could contain his hurt no longer.

“I don't want to take on anyone else's problems, God,” he whispered. “I was Silver's guardian for four years while Wade worked in South America. When Dad died, I took over his law firm, and then managed Mom's care until she passed away. Then Darla had her accident and it was up to me again. I can't take on any more.”

“I'll be good, Davy,” Darla whispered.

He whirled around, saw her standing in the doorway with tears coursing down her cheeks and cursed his stupidity.

“Oh, Darla, honey, I didn't mean—”

“I promise I won't be bad anymore. I won't yell or
break things or be nasty, if we could have Susannah look after me. Please?” She stood in her white cotton nightgown, a penitent child where a woman should have been. She'd lost so much.

His heart ached to make her world better. But not this way.

“Sweetie, I don't think Susannah is going to be able to work. I think she'll have to rest and get well.”

“For a little while, till she's not sick. But then Susannah will want to work. She told me she came to see if Connie could help her get a job.” Darla dragged on his arm. “Ms. Evans said she isn't ever coming back here to stay with me again, so we have a job, Davy. Please, could we get Susannah?”

David had never been able to deny his sister her heart's desire. Not since the day she'd been born. Certainly not since her accident. But David couldn't promise this. Darla took every spare moment he had and then some. He had to be her buffer, protect her and make sure her world was safe and secure. He couldn't take on the responsibility for a pregnant woman, too. He just couldn't take on another obligation for anything or anyone else.

Can't or won't?
his conscience probed.

“Please, Davy?”

“I'm not saying yes,” he warned. “I'm saying I'll think about it. But don't get your hopes up, Darla, because I don't believe Susannah will want to do it.”

And I don't want her here. I don't want to be responsible if she works too hard or you cause her problems and that child is jeopardized. I don't want more responsibility.

“Thank you, Davy.” Darla flung her arms around him and hugged him as hard as she could.

“I haven't said Susannah can come, remember.”

“I know.” She tipped her head back and grinned like the old Darla would have. “But I'm going to pray God will change your mind.” She kissed him, then raced toward the kitchen. “I didn't have dinner. I'm hungry.”

Darla's faith.

David wished his own was as strong.

“S
o you thought you were married to this man?” Connie said.

“Nick. Yes.” Susannah nodded.

“But—”

“I know it sounds stupid and gullible,” Susannah muttered and hung her head. “He said he didn't want a fuss, that he wanted our wedding to be just us, private and intimate.”

“But to lie about marriage—I am so sorry.” Connie touched her hand in wordless sympathy.

“So am I—sorry that I was so dumb. Nick arranged everything that I asked for—the minister, the church, everything. But it wasn't real. None of it was.” Susannah pushed away the rest of the soup David had brought. She shook her head. “I thought Nick loved me. I guess I should have known better.”

“Why? When you're in love, you do trust the one you love.” Connie's fingers smoothed hers. “That's natural, exactly how God meant love to be.”

“Only God didn't mean love for me.” Guilt settled on Susannah for ruining her friend's party. “Shouldn't you go back to your guests?”

“I told them an emergency had arisen.”

“I'm an emergency? Yuk.” Susannah made a face.

“Just like the old days, huh?” Connie teased. She shook her head. “Don't worry. They're friends and well used to my ‘emergencies.' Wade will take care of them.”

“Is he nice?” Susannah asked softly, studying her friend's glowing face with a twinge of envy.

“Wade is—wonderful.” Connie's face radiated happiness.

“How did you meet?”

“Silver is Wade's daughter. Wade had to leave her here while he worked in South America. David was her guardian. He hired me to be Silver's nanny.”

“How romantic. Like Cinderella.” Susannah thought Darla would have loved that.

“Not at first. When Wade came home he was nothing like I expected. But God knew what he was doing when he put us together. We were married a year ago.” Connie held out her hand. “My engagement ring was Wade's mother's.”

“It's beautiful.” Susannah thought of the cheap gold circlet she'd tucked into her bag. Nick had promised he'd get something nicer later on. Another lie. “Nick died and I didn't have anywhere else to go.”

“Oh, Suze, I'm so glad you came here. You were only seventeen when you ran away from our foster home. What have you been doing?” Connie asked, her voice grave. “I called home several times, but Mom said she didn't know where you'd gone.”

“I got in with the wrong group and went to Los Angeles. It took me a while to get my head on straight, but eventually I got a job in a nursing home. That's where
I met Nick.” She inhaled to ease the constriction in her throat. No more tears.

Connie squeezed her fingers. “How did you find me?”

“I finally phoned Mom day before yesterday.”

“She misses you.” Connie's eyes blazed with sympathy.

“I miss her, too.” Susannah sniffed. “I was stupid to run away. So stupid.”

“Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Even you?” Susannah asked, glancing around.

“Especially me.” Connie laughed. “I'll tell you later about my mistakes.” Her voice grew serious. “But what about the baby, Suze? When are you due?”

“April. Around Easter.”

“An Easter baby.”

Susannah gulped. “I'm on my own and I have about two nickels to rub together. I guess, first of all, I need to find a job. Do you know of any?”

“First of all you need to get better,” Connie said in her familiar “mother” tone. “Do you want to keep your baby?”

“I don't think any child would want a mother like me.” She deliberately didn't look at Connie.

“But you'd make a wonderful mother!” her friend protested.

“Hardly,” Susannah scoffed. “Look how I messed up my own family. I'm so not the poster woman for motherhood.”

“You were nine the day they brought you to our foster home. I told you then and I'll tell you again,
you
did not break up your family, Suze. Nothing you did caused your father to leave you, or your mother to start drinking. And
you did not start that fire.” Connie tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look up.

Susannah couldn't stop the tears. “Why did God let this happen to me, Connie?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Connie wrapped comforting arms around her shoulders and hugged her close, rocking back and forth as she had when Susannah was younger.

“I feel like He hates me,” Susannah sobbed.

“God? No way.” Connie let go and leaned back. “Listen to me, kiddo, and hear me well. God does not hate you. He loves you more than you could ever imagine.”

“But I've messed up—”

“There are no ‘buts' where God is concerned. He loves you. Period.” Connie pressed the tendrils away from Susannah's face, then cupped her cheeks and peered straight into her eyes. “God has a plan. He's going to work all of this out for your benefit.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am sure. Positive.” Connie smiled. “But until He shows us the next step, I have the perfect guest room upstairs. You'll stay as long as you need to. Now finish that soup and try to swallow a few of the crackers,” she insisted. “You're thinner now than you were when you first came to North Dakota, and you were a stick then. Eat.”

“Still as bossy,” Susannah teased, her heart swelling at the relief of being able to count on a friend.

“Still needing bossing,” Connie shot back, laughing. “You need taking care of, and I'm just the person to do it.” She watched while Susannah ate. “What was Darla saying about Sleeping Beauty?”

Susannah shrugged but couldn't stop her blush. “I passed out on the doorstep. Her brother carried me
in here. When I came to, she was demanding he kiss me, like Sleeping Beauty.” Susannah crunched another cracker, enjoying the feeling of having enough to satisfy her hunger. It had been ages since she'd been able to eat her fill.

“She loves that story.” Connie smiled fondly.

“Darla is a bit old for fairy tales,” Susannah mused. “Something's wrong with her, right?”

“She had a skiing accident.” Connie's voice filled with sadness. “It happened a few months after her mother died. Their father was already gone so David had to handle everything. He's been looking after her the best he can, but it's been a challenge for him.”

“What do you mean?” Susannah struggled to decipher the cautious tone in Connie's voice.

“Well, David was engaged. Twice.”

“Oh.” Not much wonder, Susannah thought. He was very good-looking.

“Each time his fiancées backed out because of Darla.”

“They wanted him to dump her into some home?” Indignation filled Susannah. “Typical.”

“Why do you say that, Suze?”

“It was like that where I worked,” Susannah fumed. “So often the seniors were seen as burdens because they took a little extra time and attention, or couldn't remember as well.”

“Well, in Darla's case, David's fiancées might have had a point,” Connie said, her voice quiet.

“Oh?” Susannah frowned. “Why?”

“Darla has had—” Connie paused “—difficulty adjusting to her world since the accident.”

“But surely she goes to a program of some sort?” Susannah asked.

“She does. The problem is Darla. She has trouble working with anyone. Her temper gets very bad. I'm sure that's what happened with my lamp.” Connie inclined her head toward the shattered glass.

“When I came to, she was yelling.” Susannah frowned. “But she didn't act up when I was speaking with her. She was sweet and quite charming.”

“That's the way she is, until someone doesn't do as she wants. Then she balks and makes a scene. It's part of her brain injury. She's had a number of workers try to teach her stronger self-control.” Connie made a face. “With little success, so far. They keep quitting.”

“Well, maybe David hasn't found the right people to work with her,” Susannah said. “He seemed kind of frustrated by her.”

“Maybe he is,” Connie agreed, “but he devotes himself to his sister.”

“To the exclusion of everything else?” Was that why he looked so tired?

“Yes, sometimes. David is convinced it's his duty to his parents to ensure Darla's happiness, even if he has to sacrifice his own.” Connie pulled a vacuum hose from a cupboard and cleaned up the shards of glass before tucking the lampshade into a closet.

“Aren't you mad about the lamp?” Susannah asked curiously.

“It was just a thing.” Connie loaded the used dishes onto the tray. “People are more important than things. Come.”

Connie opened a door that led to a staircase. Susannah followed her, curious to see the rest of this lovely house.

“We'll sneak up to your room this way.” Connie shot her a conspiratorial grin.

Their footsteps were muffled by thickly carpeted stairs. Connie grasped her hand and led her to a beautiful room tucked under the eaves.

“This used to be my room,” she said. Her face reflected a flurry of emotions as she sank onto the window seat. “I spent a lot of time right here, praying.”

“Are you happy, Connie?” Susannah asked, sitting beside her. “Truly?”

“Happier than I ever imagined I'd be.” Connie hugged her. “You will be, too, Suze. But you have to give God time to work things out for you. You have to have faith that He has great things in store for your future.”

“That's hard, given my past,” Susannah muttered.

“That's when it's most important to read your Bible and pray,” Connie murmured. “You have a lot of decisions to make. But you don't have to rush. You can stay right here, get well and figure things out in your own time.”

“Is it hard—being a mother?” The question slipped out in spite of her determination not to ask.

But the prospect of motherhood scared her silly.

“You're worried about the baby, aren't you, Suze. Why?” Connie moved to sit on the bed, patting the space beside her. When Susannah sat down, she hugged her close. “What's really bothering you?”

“My role model for motherhood wasn't exactly nurturing. Nothing mattered to my mother more than her next drink.” She heard the resentment in her own voice but couldn't control it. “Nothing.”

“Suze, honey, you can't hold on to the bitterness.”

“Can't I?” Susannah opened her bag and pulled out her wallet. She flipped it to two pictures nestled inside. “They're dead, Connie. Because of me.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Susannah nodded. “I should have been there.”

“Then you would have died, too.” Connie gripped her hand.

“But if only I hadn't chosen—”

“The fire wasn't your fault, Susannah.” Connie's soft voice hardened. “No matter what your mother said when you were a kid.”

Susannah had gone round and round this argument in her head for years. But nothing erased the little voice of blame in the back of her brain. Her hand rested for an instant on her stomach.

“A new life,” Connie murmured. “Hard to wrap your mind around it?”

“Very,” Susannah agreed with a grimace. “Even harder to imagine coping.”

“You'll do fine,” Connie assured her.

“It's easy for you to say that. You spent all those years in our foster home caring for everybody else. I don't know anything about caring for a baby, except that you need to feed it and change it.” Just saying that made Susannah feel helpless. “What if it gets sick?”

“Then you'll get help.” Connie patted her shoulder. “One thing I've learned with Silver is that there are no easy answers, no recipe you can follow. You do your best, pray really hard and have faith that God will answer. And He does. David told me that when he first hired me.”

“Really?” So David Foster was a man of faith, too.

“David is one of the good guys. My husband is another. So is their friend Jared.” Connie smiled with pride. “They're the kind of men who do the right thing, no matter what. Integrity. They have it in spades.”

Susannah couldn't dislodge the image of the tall dark-haired man with the slow spreading grin that started with a slight lift at the corners of his mouth, followed
by a gradual widening until it reached his toffee eyes. David Foster had the kind of smile that took forever to get where it was going, but once it got there, it took your breath.

“A lawyer with integrity,” she mused. “How novel.”

Connie drew back the quilt and patted a pillow. “Come on, into bed. Your eyelids are drooping. Rest. We'll talk again whenever you're ready.”

“Did I say thank you?” Tears swelled Susannah's throat.

“What are sisters for?” Connie hugged her. “Don't worry about anything, Suze. You're here now. Relax. In due time you can start planning for the future. Just remember—you're not alone.”

A moment later she was gone, the door whispering closed behind her. Susannah stood up, tiredness washing over her. Then she spied the bathroom door.

Five minutes later she was up to her neck in bubbles in a huge tub, enjoying the relaxing lavender fragrance as jets pulsed water over her weary flesh.

Are You really watching out for me, God?

She thought over the past months and the tumble from joy to despair that she'd experienced. Unbidden, thoughts of David's troubles rose. How difficult to lose both your parents, and then the sister you'd known and loved. They had that in common—loss.

Susannah hadn't said anything to Darla or Connie, but when David had carried her into the house, she had come to, for a second. And in that moment, she
had
felt like Sleeping Beauty. Awakening to a whole new perspective on life.

Which was really stupid. She didn't want anything to do with love. Certainly not the romantic fairy-tale kind—that only led to disappointment and pain.