Authors: Julie Carobini
For once, I remembered to bring my cell phone with me. Checking the time, I tore myself away from the cliff’s edge and hustled toward Sheila’s home determined to put more effort into these weekly gatherings.
Once there, Brenna answered the door, a stern furrow across her brow. “Hello, Aunt Callie.”
I dropped to my knees and smiled right in her face. “Hello to you, dear niece Brenna.”
A smirk turned the end of Brenna’s petite mouth upward. “I’m trying to stay mad at you, Auntie.”
I whisked her into my arms, one hand tickling her. “No way. You can’t do it. I just know you can’t!”
Brenna squealed and giggled. “Yes, I can. I’m really, really mad at you, Aunt Callie.”
Blakey appeared, tugging at my pants. “I’m mad at you too!” Fat chance of that. All of his baby teeth showed when he smiled.
The three of us huddled on the floor, wrestling and laughing until my lungs were spent and both sides ached. I pulled Blakey onto my lap. “Listen, little man. You too, Brenna. I am so, so, so sorry that I forgot to take you to ice cream last week.”
Brenna crossed her arms. “You broke your promise. You should never break promises.”
I swallowed down but couldn’t hide my regret. “That’s right and I need you to forgive me. Can you do that?”
Brenna pouted. “I . . . don’t . . . know . . .”
Blakey laid a pudgy hand on one of his sister’s crossed arms. “C’mon. She said she was sor-ry!” He rose on his knees, placing his face inches from mine. “I forgive you, Auntie Callie. We gonna go to ice cream tomorrow?”
His earnest expression moved me and I wanted to cry. I’m going to buy this kid the biggest—
Two arms flew around my neck and squeezed. Any more strength in them and I might have had to be resuscitated. “All right, I forgive you too.” Brenna’s voice tickled my ear. “I can’t stay mad at my auntie.”
I grabbed their hands and tucked them into my sides. “You both have to promise me something, okay?”
They nodded, both waiting, eyes wide.
“You eat everything on your plates tonight with no squawking.”
Blake wrinkled his nose. “Even the broc-lee?”
“Yes, even the broccoli. Promise me now because I’m going to talk to your mama about letting you both come out with me for . . . are you ready for this?”
Brenna’s voice came out hushed like a whisper. “Yeah? Yeah?”
“Hot fudge sundaes with nuts and a big red cherry on top!”
Both kids squealed and tumbled over me. Somehow I landed on my stomach and the two kidlets climbed onto my back, bouncing like I was some kind of wild pony. An oomph escaped from my windpipe, but it was the approaching click-click of Sheila’s heels across the laminate flooring that made me wince. I drew up on my elbows.
“Hey, Sheila.”
“When I heard the children screaming, I should have known that Aunt Callie had arrived.” She placed a hand on her waist. “You’re early. This is a first.”
“Glad to see me?”
Something flickered in her eyes. She paused. Sheila never paused. “Of course I am.”
I didn’t expect that.
“Come help me set the table.”
Okay, now
that
I expected.
Vince offered me a hug in the kitchen as I grabbed the silverware drawer and headed for the dining room. He opened the fridge and hovered there. “Something to drink?”
“Mineral water, if you have it.”
He followed me to the dining area where Sheila arranged giant hollyhocks and a spray of honeysuckle in a clear glass vase. I stopped, holding the large drawer on my hip. “Wow, Sheila. I would never have thought of that combination. Pretty.”
A smile lifted her cheekbones. “Just thought I would give it a try.”
Vince entered the room and handed me a tall glass of mineral water. “How’s the campaign coming?”
“Lots of donations and questions. I keep my phone turned off, otherwise the ringing drives me crazy.”
“You never seemed to keep your phone on anyway,” Sheila said.
I sipped my drink and shrugged. “This is true.”
Vince’s gaze pointed toward the west. “That sure is a beautiful piece of property. If I had the money—”
Sheila looked up, sharply. “Don’t think about that, Vince. As it is, you already work too much.”
A rueful expression fell on Vince. He lowered his eyes to his glass. “Guess so.”
Sheila set down her shears and grabbed Vince around the shoulder. She planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “Don’t go worrying about what we can’t buy. I have all I need right here.” She patted his rump. “Now please get my large blue platter down from the top shelf.”
Vince snuck me a smile as he left. The doorbell rang.
I stopped wrapping silverware. “I’ll grab it.”
Greta pushed her way through the front door like a mother racing after her chick. “Oh, honey, get me a chair. I need to put these tree trunks up!”
Bobby ushered her in, his arm around her waist, a grim set to his mouth. He glanced at me and I wished I could wash away the worry I saw there.
My heart picked up speed at seeing my dear friend and sister-in-law in such a state. “Are you hurting? Can I get you a drink? A pillow?”
Bobby helped her lower into a chair and she seemed breathless. “I . . . just . . . want . . . a baby!”
Vince stepped into the room with a glass of water and Sheila on his heels. “Drink this.” He thrust the glass into her hands as Sheila shoved a pillow beneath Greta’s swelling calves.
Greta eyed him. “What is it?”
I scrunched my forehead. “Greta, it’s just water. What’s wrong with you?” I grabbed Bobby’s arm. “What’s wrong with her?”
He threw up both hands, using one of them to rake through his messy brown hair. “She wanted to walk, you know, to see if labor could start so I took her out to the Kitteridge property and we, uh, walked.”
I felt my eyes widen. “
All
of it?”
He nodded vigorously, biting his lower lip. “Pretty much.”
We turned to see Greta downing the water like a woman lost in the desert. I swung my gaze to Bobby. “That’s miles of shoreline. Did you do the interior hikes too?”
The wince on his face gave it away.
“Oh, Bobby!”
He pressed his palm to his cheek. “Not all of them, of course. She had all this energy this morning. Kept cleaning the house, even though it didn’t need it. She washed all of the baby’s new bedding—”
Sheila nodded. “Well, it’s always a good idea—”
Bobby faced us, his expression bewildered. “But she’d already washed them and put them in the new cradle!”
Sheila’s hand found Bobby’s arm. “You’re describing nesting. It’s perfectly normal for a woman who’s about to give birth to experience sudden bursts of energy. The trick is to know how to use that energy wisely.”
Bobby blew out a long breath. “In other words, no long hikes.” He glanced at his wife then back to us.
Sheila shrugged. “A nice brisk walk around the block would have been just fine.”
I knelt next to Greta and stroked her belly, hiding the climbing panic within me. The thought of childbirth made my forehead perspire. “How’s my little Clementine or Norwich today, huh?”
Greta’s head lolled against the back of the recliner. “Giving me all sorts of trouble. He or she has been kicking me in some awful places.”
The color had returned to Greta’s cheeks as well as her sense of humor. Sheila was consoling Bobby over his regrets, and Vince was running around refilling everyone’s drinks. Blakey rolled around on the floor with his toy diesel truck, while Brenna padded around behind her father, pretending to tend to everyone’s needs.
Bliss like a fluffy cotton blanket wrapped comforting wings around me. It felt good to be part of this family. Flaws and all, when it came down to caring for one another, we were there. All of us. I leaned my head on Greta’s shoulder and relaxed, noticing how her hands, clenched when she and Bobby arrived, now draped along the sides of the chair. She let go a ripple of a sigh.
I barely heard the door open and more family trail in. From somewhere beyond the living room wall, Jim’s booming voice made it to my ears first.
“This may not be over yet. Callie has some serious explaining to do and without counsel she may find herself in a deeper pit.”
Sheila shushes him. “Now, Jim, this is neither the time nor the place.”
“Are you a lawyer, Sheila? Because last time I checked, I was the one who attended three hard years of law school. Trust me when I say that girl has made terrible choices and they may not only bury her, but this family as well!”
A frown replaced Bobby’s panicked expression. He offered me a hand, pulling me up, and together we made our way out of the living room and into the dining room where Sheila stood toe-to-toe with Jim.
She spoke between gritted teeth, as Vince held her shaking shoulders. “I’m telling you that I’m tired of the way you treat this family.”
Jim trivialized her with a sarcastic smirk. “You’re tired of
me
? Spare me.”
Sheila wouldn’t let up. “We have been over this a thousand times and I already told you that Callie has it under control. Jim, I’m beginning to realize that you are nothing but a bully, always seeking your way, always bellowing about something.”
Jim caught eyes with Vince. “What’s wrong with her—that time of the month or something?”
One of Vince’s brows stretched into his forehead. “Cool it, man.”
This only served to make Sheila rise up more. “This is the way you’ve been for as long as I remember, Jim. But let me remind you how it really went when we were kids. While you were off hanging with your friends in high school,
I
was the one keeping things running around our house. Mom and Dad left
you
in charge when they traveled, but you were never around.
I
cooked,
I
cleaned up after everyone, and
I
tucked Bob and Callie into bed at night.” Her face flamed red, her breathing loud. “Frankly, I’m surprised that all that pot you smoked didn’t fry your brain. That was one thing
I
couldn’t help you with!”
She threw a rag at his feet and spun around only to be stopped by Vince who hugged her in the tightest hug I’d ever seen. Like a mood ring, the skin on Jim’s face evolved into pink followed by purple and ultimately deep, dark red. Neither Bobby nor I could breathe, let alone move; and although the drama between our older siblings shocked us beyond belief, I found comfort in solidarity with Bobby. Like old times.
“Well.” Jim pursed his lips so tightly I thought they might disappear inside his big mouth. “The truth finally comes out. Sheila here thinks—”
“Bobby! Callie! Oh! Oh . . .” Greta’s cry broke us from the scene in the dining room.
“Greta? What is it, honey?” Bobby said as we flanked Greta, each kneeling at her side.
“My water. I think it broke.”
A gasp flew from my mouth and an instant sheen of moisture covered my cheeks and forehead, my body’s attempt to cool me down. Bobby looked equally stressed. Greta’s gaze whipped from him to me. “I’m the one about to push a baby out of me. C’mon. Get it together.”
Bobby smacked a swift kiss on her forehead. “There’s my girl. Always keeping me in line.” He pulled her up while I dashed into the dining room to get the others.
Apparently Sheila had already figured what was happening. Flushed with worry, I met her at the bottom of the stairs where she landed with an oversized beach bag. At my raised brow, she said, “Things to help Greta during labor.”
As much as I’d anticipated the birth of Bobby and Greta’s sweet baby, I had also feared this moment. Sheila’s presence, though, offered comfort in the midst of swirling confusion. Of all of us, she seemed to know exactly what to do. After helping Greta to the bathroom, Sheila put Vince in charge of the children, told Bobby to get the car ready, and asked me to wet down a washcloth, for what reason, I had no idea.
Sheila supported Greta back to the living room and flicked her chin toward the door. “Jim, open it up. Come on, Callie.” She turned her gaze to me. “We need to get to the hospital ASAP.”
My normally blustering eldest brother did what he was told, as did I. Cool water from the washcloth soaked into my skin as I followed Greta and Sheila out the door and to the waiting car, unsure how big a help I could actually be.
GAGE
GUS STONESBY, FROM STONESBY and Sons Construction, jingled spare change in his pocket for ten excruciating minutes, long enough for him to get the gist of the project’s newest additions—and to drive Gage nuts in the process. He’d heard of guys that needed to be on their feet or squeezing a stress ball or drumming their fingers just to think, but Gage had never been one of those people. God had given him the gift of focus, meaning he could sit for hours and concentrate fully on one project. Of course, it might be said that the gift had its downsides, especially when it came to being able to free the mind enough to figure out something equally important—like women.
Specifically, like Callie.
It was Sunday and although he had planned to meet with Gus first thing Monday morning, the contractor pressed him to meet this afternoon instead. He’d been preoccupied, though, thinking about Callie, wondering how camp went, when they would speak again and how that might go. Allowing too much time to pass might backfire. Would she think that he had gotten what he’d come for? That the fire inside him had fizzled?
Dude, get it together—you don’t even know if she’s into you.
He shook away his thoughts, trying to concentrate as Gus started up the coin jangling again while taking another look at the schematics for the Kitteridge property. Learning that his client had crossed the line with the town council didn’t make his job easier, as some might think. He had no desire to circumvent the law in any way to get his job done. Standing up to his former boss had gotten him fired, and he’d taken that as a sign that God had something new for him, something better.
But doubt had turned over inside of him. Was looking the other way as bad as participating in questionable activities?
Suz leaned into the office. “Gage, you have a call on the line.”
He raised both brows and she answered by mouthing, “Redmond.” With a nod, he moved to his desk and took the call. “Gage here.”