A Very Special Delivery. Brenda Harlen

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      When she woke up the morning of November first staring at water stains on a stippled ceiling, Julie Marlowe wondered if she was having a bad dream. Then she remembered that uncomfortable twinges in her lower back had forced her to take a break on her journey home the day before, and the closest available accommodations had been at the Sleep Tite Motor Inn.

      She managed to roll her pregnant body off the sagging mattress and swing her feet over the edge. The bathroom’s tile floor was cold beneath her feet, and the trickle of spray that came out of the shower head wasn’t much warmer. She washed quickly, then dried herself with the threadbare but clean towels on the rack. She had another long day of travel ahead of her, so she dressed comfortably in a pair of chocolate-colored leggings and a loose tunic-style top. Then she slipped her feet into the cowboy boots she’d bought “just because” when she’d been in Texas.

      Seven months earlier, she’d had a lot of reasons for wanting to leave Springfield. But after traveling eight thousand miles through twenty-seven states and sleeping in countless hotel rooms, she was more than ready to go home.

      She missed her family, her friends and the comfortable and predictable routines of her life. She even missed her father, despite the fact that he could be more than a little stubborn and overbearing on occasion. The only person she could honestly say that she didn’t miss was Elliott Davis Winchester the Third—her former fiancé.

      Julie had told her parents that she needed some time and some space to think about her future after ending her engagement. Lucinda and Reginald hadn’t understood why she needed to go—and how could she expect that they would when there was so much she hadn’t told them?—but they’d been supportive. They’d always been unflinching in their support and unwavering in their love, even when she screwed up.

      When she left Springfield, Julie was determined to ensure that she didn’t screw up again.

      She felt a nudge beneath her rib, and smiled as she rubbed a hand over her belly. “You weren’t a mistake, baby,” she soothed. “Maybe I didn’t plan for you at this point in my life, but I know that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I promise to be the best mommy that I can.”

      The baby kicked again, clearly unconvinced.

      Julie couldn’t blame her for being skeptical. Truthfully, she had more than a few doubts of her own. She and Elliott had talked about having children and neither wanted to wait too long after the wedding before starting a family, but she hadn’t known she was pregnant when she gave him back his ring and left town.

      After a quick visit to the doctor confirmed that she was going to have a baby, she wasn’t even tempted to change her course. Though she’d known Elliott for two years—and had been engaged to him for six months—she’d suddenly realized that she didn’t really know him at all. What she did know was that he wasn’t the kind of a man she wanted to marry, and he certainly wasn’t the kind of man that she wanted as a father for her baby.

      Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he was the father of her baby, but she hadn’t been ready to deal with that reality in the moment. Maybe she’d been running away, but over the past few months she’d accepted that she couldn’t run forever. In fact, in her current condition, she couldn’t run at all anymore. The best she could manage was a waddle.

      And she was ready to waddle home.

      * * *

      Lukas Garrett snagged a tiny box of candy from the orange bowl on the front desk—the remnants of the pile of Halloween candy from the day before—and emptied the contents into his mouth.

      Karen, the veterinarian clinic receptionist and office manager, shook her head as he chewed the crunchy candy. “Please tell me that’s not your lunch.”

      He swallowed before dutifully answering, “That’s not my lunch.”

      “Lukas,” she chided.

      “Really,” he assured her. “This is just the appetizer. I’ve got a sandwich in the fridge.”

      “PB & J?”

      “Just PB today.” He reached for another box of candy and had his hand slapped away.

      “You need a good woman to take care of you.”

      It was a familiar refrain and he responded as he usually did. “You’re a good woman and you take care of me.”

      “You need a wife,” she clarified.

      “Just say the word.”

      Karen, accustomed to his flirtatious teasing, shook her head.

      “Go eat your sandwich,” she directed. “As pathetic as it is, I’m sure it has slightly more nutritional value than candy.”

      “I’m waiting to have lunch after I finish with the morning appointments.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, frowned. “I thought for sure Mrs. Cammalleri would be here with Snowball by now.”

      “She called to reschedule,” Karen told him. “She didn’t want to leave the house in this weather.”

      “What weather?” Luke turned to the window, then blinked in surprise at the swirling white flakes that were all that was visible through the glass. “When did it start snowing?”

      “About an hour ago,” Karen told him. “While you were ensuring that Raphael would never again be controlled by his most basic animal urges.”

      He moved closer to the window. “Did the forecast call for this?”

      She nodded. “Twelve to fifteen inches.”

      He frowned. “How does global warming result in early season snowstorms?”

      “We live in a Snowbelt,” she reminded him. “And the current catchphrase is ‘climate change.’”

      “I’d prefer a climate change that included warm sun and sandy beaches.”

      “So book a vacation.”

      “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted. And while an island getaway held a certain appeal, he had no desire to go on a holiday alone. Nor was he interested in venturing out solo with the goal of finding an anonymous female someone to share a few days of sun, sand and sex. That kind of thing had lost its appeal for Luke before he’d graduated college.

      “Well, another thing you should think about is closing up early,” Karen suggested. “Mrs. Cammalleri was your last scheduled appointment and the way the snow’s already falling hard and fast, if we don’t get out of here soon, we might not get out of here at all.”

      “The clinic’s open until three on Fridays,” he reminded her. “So I’ll stay until then, but you go ahead.”

      “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

      “Of course not. There’s no need for both of us to stay, and you’ve got a longer drive home than I do.”

      Karen was already tidying up her desk, straightening a pile of files, aligning the stapler with the edge of her desk calendar, putting the pens in the cup.

      Luke

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