He slapped his chest. “Gives me gas, but all good things come with a price, right?”
“Right.” She smiled sweetly, pushing images of him and chili and greasy onion rings out of her mind.
He dragged his feet toward the door. “Just let me know when you want to take a spin on my Hog, baby.”
“I’m not really a Harley girl.” Not that he actually had a Harley, anyway, although he told everyone he did; he had an imitation Harley.
He whistled through his teeth. “Just call me if you need anything.”
Rebecca nodded and locked the door behind him, then changed into flannel pajamas. She did have several bruises on her chest, the skin was already turning an ugly purple. With a cup of hot chocolate in hand, she headed toward her bed when the hope chest drew her eye, beckoning her as if it had some kind of hypnotic spell on her.
Her heart fluttered with a tiny seed of hope. Hope that marriage and babies might be in her future. Curiosity gnawed at her, too, drawing her closer until she knelt beside the wooden chest.
Hannah and Mimi and Alison claimed their hope chests had held magical secrets regarding their futures. That the items Grammy Rose placed inside had something to do with the men they would marry.
Was there something inside her chest that hinted about a new man coming into her life? Something that would convince her that love would find its way into her future?
THOMAS HAD BARELY FALLEN asleep when the phone rang.
“This is Terrence McGee, Dr. Emerson.” The man’s breath sounded shaky. “I think Nora’s in labor.”
Thomas ran a hand through his hair and sat up. Nora was two weeks overdue, so her husband was most likely right. “She’s having contractions?”
“Yeah, but they’re not regular. Says her back’s hurting.”
“Back labor,” Thomas said. And this was her third child so it would probably come quickly. “Get her to the hospital, Terrence. I’ll meet you there.”
“Her feet’re swollen twice the normal size, Doc, and she says she’s dizzy. I’m worried.”
“She’ll be fine.” Thomas forced a calm to his voice that he didn’t feel. “Just get her to the hospital and we’ll take care of her and the baby. Everything will be all right.”
He hung up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his clothes. No time for a shower, so he jerked on khakis and socks, then hurried to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He didn’t want the McGee baby making its entrance without him. According to her file, Nora had had complications with the other two births. He sure as hell hoped this one went smoother.
Sugar Hill General was modern, but it still didn’t have the advanced equipment that the big Atlanta hospitals did.
Buttoning his shirt as he went, he remembered the night his baby brother had died. His mother hadn’t had the advantages of a big modern facility, either; maybe if she had, the doctors could have saved the baby. Thomas had been twelve, but the helplessness he’d felt had been mindboggling. A frisson of unease rippled through him as he drove to the hospital. He phoned the hospital to warn them to be prepared for an emergency. Better to prepare for the worst.
Someday maybe he would have a son of his own. A family to replace the one he’d lost long ago.
But not until he settled permanently into his career, moved to the city and achieved his goals. When he had a child, he wanted it to have all the advantages he and his brother hadn’t. The latest in medical technology for starters.
And he would never have that in a small town like Sugar Hill.
REBECCA’S FINGERS TREMBLED as she opened the hope chest. Knowing that her grandmother had chosen the items inside especially for her brought tears to her eyes. Grammy Rose had been the only stable mother figure in her life ever since she was nine, when her mother had died.
She brushed her fingers over the soft velvet, the scent of cedar and her grandmother’s rose potpourri clinging to the inside of the chest as if to remind her of its origin. She had seen the bride’s book before but hadn’t noticed the white envelope lying beside it. Her heart pounding with excitement, she opened the letter and began to read.
My dearest, darling Rebecca,
You are a very special granddaughter because you remind me so much of myself when I was your age. You were the first of Bert’s daughters, the one who brought a deep love into his marriage that cemented the bond between him and your mother.
But you were the one who suffered the most when your mother died. Although your own heart was aching, you pushed your feelings aside to comfort your father and little sister in their sorrow.
You showed such strength that the rest of us gained courage from you. But when you retreated to that silent place where you grieved, you never quite came back.
Always steady and strong, dependable and caring, you are loyal and trusting to a fault. Believe in yourself now, Rebecca. Take time to nurture your own dreams and talents, and love yourself the way you love others.
I wish for you happiness, true love and a man who will give you all the joy a partner can.
Love you always,
Grammy Rose
P.S. Inside you will find something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.
REBECCA WIPED A TEAR from her eye, then picked up the lacy bride’s book and stroked a hand over the embossed silver bells. With a wistful sigh, she flipped the pages, imagining the blank white spaces filled with signatures of guests.
Guests at her own wedding.
Knowing she was being silly, she laid the book down and dug deeper into the chest. A blue garter lay nestled on top of a larger white envelope. She placed the garter around her wrist and opened the envelope, her mouth gaping when she found a blank marriage license inside. What in the world was Grammy doing putting a marriage license in there? Did she expect Rebecca to need one in a hurry?
A nervous bubble of laughter escaped her at the thought.
Occasionally Grammy did some wacky things, just as various other members of the Hartwell clan had been known to do. This obviously was one of them.
Next she thumbed through the book on dream analysis. What on earth would analyzing your dreams have to do with getting married?
The corner of a small children’s book peeked out. The Ugly Duckling. Rebecca traced her finger over the picture of the little yellow duck on the front, then the beautiful white swan, thinking she had always been the duck, Suzanne the swan. But she smiled as she flipped the pages, memories of Grammy’s voice reading the story to her night after night echoing in her mind. She had so loved the awkward little duck and had cheered the lonely creature on as he battled his way through the story. Hugging the book to her chest, she imagined reading it to her own child one day. Was that the reason Grammy had put it in the chest—did she foresee a baby in Rebecca’s future?
A little boy or girl with dark-black hair and green eyes. A little boy who had an amazing similarity
