and you’re already holding hands with Davy’s aunt. What was that all about?”
Avoiding Trey’s incredulous stare, Brett gripped the brim of his hat as he recalled the delicate softness of Abby’s fingers cupped in his work-roughened hands. The sweet, clean smell of her up close and her raven hair shimmering, waiting to be loosed from its ribbon clasp.
A not-unexpected weight pressed in on his heart and he scuffed a boot in the dirt, shaking off the too-vivid memory. While they were nice to look at and fun to flirt with, he wasn’t in the market for another lady in his life. A wife. It wasn’t likely God would give him the go-ahead for such as that again, anyway. Besides, he needed to stay focused on helping Janet Logan revive that weeklong summer camp for disease-disabled kids. She was the sole person in Canyon Springs who knew why the project was close to his heart. He liked it that way, between the two of them and God.
“It was all about nothin’, that’s what,” he said with a chuckle as he belatedly remembered Trey was waiting for an answer. “At least nothing like what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, right.”
Sobering, Brett cut a look at his friend and employer. “She got a call that Joe’s wife’s being rushed to the hospital in Show Low. She needed reassurance, that’s all.”
Trey smiled as the truth dawned. “The baby’s coming?”
Brett squinted against the light coming in from the open doorway at the end of the building, watching a silhouetted Abby and her nephew heading out to their vehicle. She’d be telling him now. Telling him his mommy wouldn’t be home when they got there because she and his daddy had gone to see about the baby. She’d be assuring him Aunt Abby was excited to spend more time with him and they’d have fun together.
“Sure sounds like the baby won’t be long in coming.” He settled his hat on his head. “But things are getting off to a rough start. They’d appreciate prayers.”
He glanced again at the now-vacant, yawning doorway, his spirit whispering a prayer for father, mother, brother, unborn baby sister.
And for the sad-eyed Abby, too.
* * *
“Davy!” Abby called up the stairs of Meg and Joe’s place the following morning. “It’s time to go.”
She planned to drop Davy off for Sunday school, then he could join her father—his grandpa—for the church service afterward. Dad could take him out for lunch and bring him back home. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with vaguely familiar faces asking if she remembered them or inviting her to take a trip down memory lane.
Besides, her father admitted he was serious about his girlfriend, Sharon Dixon, owner of Dix’s Woodland Warehouse, so Sharon would likely join them for lunch. Girlfriend. What a dumb label for a woman in her mid-fifties, conjuring up images of starry-eyed teenagers. But companion sounded equally silly and romantic interest stilted. Even though eighteen years had passed since her parents’ divorce and Mom had remarried when Abby was twenty, she hadn’t been prepared to see Dad with another woman. It had been more than awkward that first day when she’d arrived unexpectedly on his doorstep and found Sharon there, fixing lunch for the two of them.
No, this spur-of-the-moment visit hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped at all. She’d never been an impulsive sort and this was one more confirmation that racing ahead without thinking wasn’t in her best interests.
“Davy!” she called again.
“Camy won’t give me my shoe,” the boy’s voice echoed from the second story.
She cringed. That was her fault. With Davy anxious while his parents were gone, she’d given in and allowed him to bring the year-and-a-half-old Labrador retriever inside to sleep on the floor by his bed. Mistake. At least feeding Skooter, Meg’s blue betta fish, had been uneventful.
She made it halfway up the stairs to assist him when the cell phone she’d left in the kitchen chimed. Gene again? She’d come to terms with their parting, determined to trust God that it was the right thing for both of them. But with each attempted contact, the dreamer inside her irrationally hoped he was experiencing regrets about their breakup. The pragmatic side, of course, insisted he’d remembered he’d given her a valuable volume of poetry for her last birthday and wondered if he could have it back. Either way, she wasn’t ready to talk to him.
Backtracking to the kitchen, Abby snatched up the phone, relieved at the caller ID. “Good morning, Joe.”
“Things okay there?” He sounded weary. “Davy’s not giving you any trouble?”
“Of course not. He’s a doll.” The kind of little boy she’d always dreamed of having. “How’s Meg?”
“Stabilized. Tired.”
“And the baby?”
“They’re keeping her closely monitored. So far so good. They may be released this afternoon.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Doubly so. Meg’s return meant Abby could head home, too. Hanging out with Davy the past twenty-four hours, playing temporary mom, had been more than her heart was ready to bear.
“Hey, Meg has something she wants to talk to you about. Just a sec.”
She eased herself down onto a kitchen chair, waiting as he handed the phone to his wife with a few murmured words. Heard a kiss. Must be nice to have a supportive spouse, one who stuck by you no matter what.
“Abby?”
Meg’s usually perky voice was far less so today, and Abby envisioned the short-haired brunette, her face now much fuller than in her wedding pictures, stretched out in a hospital bed after the upset of the previous day.
“I hate to ask one more thing of you,” her sister-in-law continued. “So I apologize in advance. I know you intended to go home yesterday.”
“Never mind that.” She plucked absently at a woven place mat. “What can I do for you?”
“Until a few minutes ago, I’d forgotten the kindergarten Sunday school teacher is out of town this weekend. I’m her assistant. Her backup. Would you fill in for me this morning?”
That meant a room full of little kids, probably next door to the nursery. She’d be facing another battery of “do you remember me?” people, too. But how could she say no?
“I’ve prepared the lesson,” Meg rushed on. “The activities, too. Everything’s in the wicker trunk in the living room.”
“How many kids are we talking about?” Although she’d long dreamed of one of her own, Abby hadn’t much interaction with the younger set. Brother Ed had no children and Joe’s son, Davy, by his now-deceased first wife had grown up in San Diego, where she’d had no in-person contact with him until now.
“Usually four kids, maybe five. But this time of year, with the tourist season beginning, we plan for eight, then up to twelve once school is out and the season is in full swing.”
Potentially eight kids. “Ohhh...kay.”
“You don’t sound like it’s okay.”
Abby
