Alaskan Nights (21 page)

“Al-l-l righ-ht,” he groaned as if he were a spoiled child rather than a grown man. She supposed it didn’t matter how old a child was, they were always the child.

Isabella heard Brandon come back in through the kitchen door, and he and his mother spoke in low tones. Leaning her head back on the sofa and sighing, she stole a quick glance at the clock over the fireplace. In less than nine hours she’d be on a plane.

“Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday...”

Isabella sat up. Brandon and Barbara came into the living room singing to her, carrying a cake loaded with candles. Isabella burst into tears and covered her face.

She’d not told Brandon when her birthday had come and gone. She didn’t want the reminder of what couldn’t be.

Brandon sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms as he finished the song, then planted a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “Stop the tears, love. Make a wish and blow out your candles.”

Isabella hugged him and then sent a watery smile toward Barbara who’d taken her seat in the recliner at the end of the coffee table. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Make a wish,” Brandon whispered as he nuzzled her ear.

“Wait, wait!” Barbara jumped up from her chair and hurried into the kitchen. She returned with a small digital camera. “All right, now.” She held it up to look through the viewfinder.

Isabella placed her hand over her middle and wished for the one thing she knew she could never have. Then she leaned forward and blew out all the candles in one big breath. The flash on Barbara’s camera went off, and Brandon hugged her tight.

~*~*~

Brandon awoke to the delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee. He rolled over and reached for Bella, but the bed was cold. He pulled her pillow into his arms and breathed in her flowery scent still clinging to it. He felt good. So alive.

He had a lot to do today and hoped Bella would go with him. He needed to talk to the manager of place he’d rented the plane from, fill out the necessary forms, and figure out what was to be done about it. The plane, thankfully, was fully insured. And the owner was a friend, his flight instructor from when he’d been seventeen and wanted nothing more in life than to complete his first solo flight.

He needed to call the Detroit office and talk to Cal, his supervisor, and then call his partner. He was sure Jared had already been told about his resignation, but he wanted to speak to him in person. And he’d ask Jared to clean out his place for him and ship him the few odds and ends he wanted.

Then he’d call Sheila and Case and tell them all about his Alaskan adventure with his little redheaded wood sprite. Brandon grinned. Maybe that would be their first trip before they started worrying about jobs. He’d take Bella down to Seattle to meet Sheila and the McCormicks. Yeah, that would be fun.

Brandon sat up and stretched. He hoped it was his mom’s coffee he smelled and not Bella’s. She could make amazing meals out of scraps, but her coffee would choke a bear. He grabbed a pair of jeans out of the laundry basket on the floor. Bella must have folded everything this morning. He pulled them on and fastened them before heading for the kitchen. His mom was at the counter.

“Where’s Bella?” he asked as he absently scratched his chest.

“Sit down, son,” she said as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

He took a sip and smiled. Definitely not Bella’s brew. Then he spotted the folded piece of notebook paper on the table, his name written across it in Bella’s smooth scrawl. He slowly lowered himself into a chair, and his mom sat down across from him. Mom wasn’t smiling at him. Worry wrinkled her normally smooth complexion.

“Where is she?” he asked again, this time a feeling of... He didn’t know what he felt, but it was an awful feeling that spread through him.

Barbara pushed the note over to him. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said softly.

Brandon tried swallowing the lump growing in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. He reached for the paper.

My Dearest Brandon,

Please don’t hate me.

I know that this is for the best.

I can’t give you the family you deserve. You need to find a woman who can give you as much as you give to her. She’ll be the luckiest woman in the world. I am just happy I had you for a short time in our hideaway.

Your words of love will stay with me forever.

I’m off to find my garden now. Wish me luck.

I’ll always think of you when I smell rain or hear the chatter of squirrels in the trees, or when a ripe, tart blueberry bursts on my tongue.

Forgive me, Brandon.

Love always,

Bella

Brandon crumpled the paper in his fist as a thousand shards of glass cut deep into his heart.

January 15th

Four months later

Isabella stared at the doctor, speechless. It couldn’t be. Not now. Not after all this time. Not with all the problems she and Bart had trying to conceive. “You’re sure?”

Dr. Sweeny, her elderly face softening into a gentle smile, nodded. “Everything looks good, Ms. Hammond. I’d say you are at least four months along, maybe closer to four and a half. Would you like to know if it’s a boy or girl?”

Isabella’s heart clenched so hard she thought she might cry from the pain of it. “You can tell?” she said, her voice sounding weak, desperate.

“Yes.” Dr. Sweeny tore a piece of paper from the little printer below the black and white monitor and handed it to Isabella. “That’s your baby.”

Isabella’s hand shook as she took the paper from the doctor. Her baby. Brandon’s baby.

Oh dear God. Brandon!

The tears came without warning, and she could do nothing to stop them. She’d tried so desperately to put the man out of her mind for good. These past months she’d kept herself in an unending whirlwind of activity for the simple purpose of not letting herself have any spare time on her hands. Time she would have devoted to thoughts of Brandon.

“And...and the baby is healthy?” Isabella asked as she stared at the picture of the tiny being that was nestled inside her. “I’ve been so tired. So...oh! What if I hurt my baby?”

Dr. Sweeny placed a warm, reassuring hand on Isabella’s shoulder. “The baby looks very healthy. Your weight is perfect, and there’s a lot of motion in that little guy. Arms, legs, fingers.” The doctor pointed out each little limb to Isabella on the picture. “Now, we need to get you on some prenatal vitamins, check your iron levels, have your blood sugar levels tested, and do you know the father’s blood type?”

“B negative,” Isabella responded. It had been listed on his organ donor card. “Just like me.”

“Well, that’s good, then. The Rh factor isn’t a problem.” Dr. Sweeny picked up her chart and began making notations. “I’d like you to come to the lab first thing Monday morning for the blood tests. You’ll need to fast for twelve hours.”

Isabella nodded but didn’t really hear anything the doctor said. She was pregnant. Pregnant. Maybe if she said it enough times she’d believe it. “You said little guy,” Isabella whispered, cutting through the doctor’s instructions. “That means it’s a boy?”

“General terminology. Do you want to know?” Isabella met the doctor’s eyes and nodded. “It’s a girl.”

As Dr. Sweeny rattled on through the list of instructions, Isabella pictured a sweet little girl with red hair and Brandon’s dark, soulful eyes. A baby. Her baby. Tears prickled her eyes again.

Dr. Sweeny had written down all the instructions she’d verbally given her. “Just in case,” she’d said. When Isabella left the little Saturday clinic, she drove straight home.

She’d sold Cam’s house upon her return to San Francisco, and because she needed a completely new start, had moved down to Orange County. She’d secured a job with a florist in Laguna Beach, right across the street from the ocean. Not only did Mr. Camaricci welcome her to the job with open arms, he’d also let her live, virtually rent-free, in the tiny apartment above The Garden Shop.

Getting out of her compact station wagon, she bypassed the stairs to her apartment and crossed the road. As soon as her feet hit the cool sand, she sighed. The beach was empty, the weather too cold for any sunbathers or surfers. The crisp sea air refreshed her and helped clear her head. With a great gulp of the tangy air, she plopped down on the sand, pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her cheek on them.

After leaving Alaska, the only thing she could do was start over. Start fresh. Make sure nothing in her life would remind her of Cam or Brandon. Not that it took anything to remind her of them. They still lived strong and sure inside her, but she’d tried to get past the debilitating ache in her heart.

With the money from the sale of Cam’s house safely secured in a money market account, she’d packed up her few belongings and headed south. She’d always loved Laguna Beach, with its exclusive shops and art galleries, the million dollar houses on the hill, and the ocean view. When she’d wandered down the sidewalk on that day back in early October and saw The Garden Shop, she’d gone in just to look around.

Mr. Camaricci was a funny little man, balding, pudgy, and as sweet as could be. When she’d burst into a fit of tears at the sight of a big bouquet of pink roses, he’d brought her a cup of tea and offered her a chair. Her emotions in turmoil, she’d spilled her guts to this kind, grandfatherly stranger. She told him about her uncle, and she told him about Brandon. When she explained to him about her dream of owning a flower shop, he’d offered her a job on the spot. When she’d turned him down, telling him there was no way she could afford to live in the area, he’d offered her the apartment.

Mrs. Camaricci cooked meals that Mr. Camaricci brought to her, all packaged up for the freezer. Mrs. Camaricci was a sweet lady in her mid-sixties who’d never had any children of her own. They’d taken Isabella in, made sure she wasn’t alone over the holidays, and in general, made her feel needed and loved.

But even with their attention, she could never forget Brandon no matter how hard she tried. With a sigh, she lifted her head and stared out at the water just as the sun took its final blazing dip into the ocean.

It had been over four months. Had he stayed in Alaska or gone back to his job? He’d resigned, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’d moved on. Met someone else. Already getting set to settle down and start that family he wanted.

The sob that escaped her lips came unexpected. Burying her face against her knees, she let the tears flow. She’d felt so empty for so long. Now she had a baby to think about. A baby that had a right to know its father. But how could she face him now, after she’d left him the way she had? She’d run away. And he’d never come after her.

She’d always expected him to show up at her door. It had only taken two weeks to sell Cam’s house. She’d had the first offer less than twenty-four hours after listing it. In those two weeks, she’d expected to see him walk up to her doorstep. And now she’d been here for three months. If he’d wanted to come after her, he would have. He had all the connections. If he’d wanted to find her, there’d have been no stopping him. He simply hadn’t. He’d said he loved her but in the end, she’d been right. He needed someone who could give him a family.

When the chill of the night settled in her bones and she shivered, she slowly made her way back to her apartment. The lights were still on in the shop. Mr. Camaricci tended to work late on Saturday nights doing inventory and getting his order lists ready for Monday morning. Half of her was tempted to go talk to him. He’d know what she should do. But the other half, the half that needed more time to consider all the possibilities, decided she should go upstairs.

The light was flashing on her answering machine by the couch when she entered her apartment. As she stripped off her sweater and pants, she hit the Play button. “This is Dr. Zewarski’s office. He needs to reschedule your Monday appointment for later in the week. Please give us a call at your earliest convenience.” Dr. Zewarski was the psychologist she’d been seeing since she started working at The Garden Shop. She’d gotten the help that Brandon had promised to help her find. She’d been doing well. No nightmares in nearly a month.

Making her way into the bathroom, Isabella threw her clothes in the hamper then stood in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. How could she have missed this? she wondered. Turning sideways, she examined the slight swell of her belly. What an idiot she’d been. She’d begun gaining weight the minute Mrs. Camaricci started cooking meals for her. When she’d bypassed the twenty pounds she’d originally set out to gain, she’d assumed she was just filling the void inside her with food.

She’d been extra tired, but she’d also put in long days trying to keep her mind occupied with learning all she could about the business. She’d had a few dizzy spells here and there, but again, she thought it was from being overtired. It wasn’t until she started having these weird little fluttery things happen that she decided she should see a doctor. She thought she had some weird disease.