The Shop on Blossom Street
Page 42

He returned five minutes later with two steaming cups. “It came out of a machine,” he said with a shrug.
At this point, Jacqueline didn’t care as long as it was hot and contained caffeine.
They sat two chairs apart in the deserted room and sipped their tasteless coffee. Half an hour and three magazines later, Paul appeared, wearing a light-blue hospital gown. He looked tired, but his eyes smiled when he saw them.
“Tammie Lee’s doing just great,” he told them. “The baby should be here within the hour.”
“Great.”
“Do you want to come in for the actual birth?” he asked.
“Me?” Jacqueline shook her head. This was a private moment between her son and his wife, and she didn’t want to intrude. Not to mention that births were messy…
“Of course. If you want,” Paul said, his expression filled with excitement. “Tammie Lee said you were welcome to be there, Mom.”
Jacqueline couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her son so happy. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather wait here, but you will let me know as soon as the baby’s born, won’t you?”
“You and Dad will be the first to know.”
Paul returned to Tammie Lee then, and it was just Jacqueline and Reese again. They ignored each other, sipping their coffee and thumbing through old magazines.
“Do you remember the night Paul was born?” Reese asked her unexpectedly.
Jacqueline laughed. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“I was so proud of you that night.”
“For giving you a son, you mean?”
“No…well, yes, I was happy to have a son, but I would’ve been equally pleased with a daughter.”
Jacqueline nodded.
“What I meant was, you impressed me with your courage and determination.”
He sounded unaccountably serious, but Jacqueline had difficulty believing he’d ever been “impressed” with her. It struck her as an odd word to use.
“I remember how the other women in the labor room moaned and carried on and asked for drugs, but not you. Not my Jacquie.”
Dignified even in the face of unyielding labor pains—that was her, all right. Jacqueline knew he intended it as a compliment and sent him a brief smile. “Despite the pain, it was one of the best nights of my life.”
“Because of Paul.”
Jacqueline lowered her gaze. “Actually, no. Because of you.”
“Me?” He gave a clipped laugh, as if he didn’t quite believe her, either. She wondered when they’d started to doubt each other and then she knew. It had been about the time he’d begun his affair.
“As we were driving here I was remembering the night Paul was born.”
Reese nodded. “I was thinking about that myself.”
“Do you recall the way you carried me to the car? It was such a…swashbuckling thing to do. I wasn’t exactly a lightweight at the time.”
“Your hero,” Reese teased.
Sadness seemed to weigh her down. “You were my hero,” she whispered and to cover up how wretched she felt, she sipped the last of her coffee.
“But no more,” Reese murmured.
Her lack of response was as clear as agreement would have been. She looked away, struggling with her composure. A part of her wanted to ask why he found her so lacking that he’d turned to another woman, but the pain of it was too great. She feared that whatever he might tell her would hurt even more than knowing he was with someone else.
He didn’t say anything or glance in her direction.
It occurred to her then, sitting in this hospital waiting room with Reese, that perhaps this was the very moment she should say something. Perhaps she should offer an overture, try to bridge this gap between them. She’d loved Reese so much at one time. Oh damn, she might as well admit it: despite everything, she still loved him. Seeing the love Paul and Tammie Lee shared was almost painful for her because she recognized how much she’d lost. To outward appearances she lived a wonderful life. She didn’t need to worry about money, she had a lovely house, her friends were plentiful. Nevertheless, she was miserable and lonely.
“I…” Reese said when the distinct sound of a baby’s cry traveled down the hallway.
Startled, they stared at each other.
“Do you think that’s her?” Jacqueline asked, surging to her feet.
“I don’t know.” Reese was standing now, too.
“Maybe we should ask the nurse?” she suggested.
Reese took her by the elbow and they walked to the nurses’ station.
“We just heard an infant cry,” Reese told the woman, giving her their names.
“We were wondering if that could possibly be our granddaughter,” Jacqueline added, keeping her voice hushed so she wouldn’t disturb others.
“I’ll check for you,” she said, and disappeared into one of the birthing rooms. She was gone only a few moments; when she returned, she carried two light-blue gowns. “Put these on, and you can join your family.”
Jacqueline didn’t hesitate and neither did Reese. When they were ready, the woman led them into the birthing room. This was nothing like the room where Jacqueline had delivered Paul all those years ago. Sofa, chairs, television and even a large swirling bathtub. Goodness, if she hadn’t known better, Jacqueline would’ve thought she’d walked into a hotel suite.
Tammie Lee was in bed, smiling over at Paul who held their baby girl. Her daughter-in-law’s face was red, her hair matted with sweat, and tears glistened in her eyes, but she’d never looked lovelier, Jacqueline thought.
“Mom and Dad,” Paul said, gently cradling the bundled infant in his arms. “This is Amelia Jacqueline Donovan.”
All at once it felt as if Jacqueline’s heart had stopped beating. She blinked back unexpected tears. “You named her after me?”
“Amelia was my grandmother’s name and we chose Jacqueline because we both love you,” Tammie Lee said.
The tears rolled unrestrained down Jacqueline’s cheeks as she gazed down on this precious child named in her honor.
“Would you like to hold your granddaughter, Mom?” Paul asked.
Jacqueline nodded as silent tears of joy burned her face. Her son placed the baby in her arms. Unusual though it seemed, Jacqueline was sure little Amelia opened her eyes and looked directly up at her. Invisible threads linked their hearts and in that moment, she knew she was going to love this child more than life itself. She smiled at Tammie Lee through her tears. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. Then she glanced at Reese and noticed he had tears in his eyes, too.
Very gently, her husband bent down and kissed Amelia’s forehead. After a brief pause, he kissed Jacqueline’s cheek.
“Now you have the daughter you always wanted,” he whispered.
Not until much later in the day, after Jacqueline had bought out the baby sections at three department stores, did she realize what her husband had really been saying.
Reese hadn’t been talking about Amelia. He’d meant Tammie Lee.
CHAPTER 42
ALIX TOWNSEND
“Y ou like Jordan, don’t you?” Laurel asked Alix early Wednesday morning. Alix was getting ready for work.
Like Jordan? That was an understatement if ever there was one. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You trust him?”
She nodded, and then shrugged. “Sure.” Quickly her suspicions rose. “Do you know a reason I shouldn’t?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking?” she demanded.
“I don’t know…. I guess I’m hoping you learned from my mistake. You tried to tell me John was no good, but I wouldn’t listen and now look at me,” she muttered, her bitterness so intense it soured her words.
As for looking at Laurel, all Alix could see was a grossly overweight girl with stringy blond hair who sat on her ass in front of the TV most days. But as long as Laurel made her share of the rent payment, Alix didn’t care how she spent her days. She’d quit two jobs, the video store and the day care center, and was currently working at a dry cleaner. She hadn’t lasted a month at the day care center and said she’d hated it.
“When you and Jordan went out on that fancy dinner date, what did you talk about?” her roommate pressed.
Laurel had certainly taken an interest in Jordan all of a sudden. “I don’t know,” she returned flippantly. “Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Why all the interest?” Alix was surprised she was even having a conversation with her roommate, but she wasn’t really comfortable with the subject.
“I mean, what do you talk about with a minister?”
“Youth minister,” she corrected. “I knew him when we were in grade school, you know. He’s just like everyone else.” More than once he’d proven he was human—in temperament and in the easy passion that flared between them. So far, everything had been kept under control, but Alix knew she tempted him as much as he tempted her. Jordan might work for the church, but he was very much a man.
“Tell me what you talked about, okay?” Laurel insisted. She seemed close to tears. Alix couldn’t imagine why this was so important.
“I told him I wanted to be a chef one day or have my own catering company. We talked about me getting into a good cooking school—not that it’s ever likely.” That was only a small part of their conversation. Jordan had a gift for drawing people out and making them feel as if they were the center of the universe.
“You want to be a chef?”
Alix shrugged. This shouldn’t be any newsflash to Laurel who’d lived with her for the past year. Any real cooking had been done by her; Laurel had specialized in stocking the kitchen with ice cream, toaster waffles and potato chips. But then Alix realized they’d never taken the time to be more than roommates. Until recently, she’d never really confided her hopes and dreams in Laurel—or in anyone, she supposed. Alix had few friends, although she felt a connection with the women in her knitting class.
Ever since her breakup with the used-car salesman, Laurel had spent most of her time alone. Her self-pity had quickly irritated Alix. She didn’t consider the relationship any big loss, but apparently Laurel thought otherwise.
“Does he know about your mother?” Laurel asked next.
The fact that her mother was currently serving time in the Women’s Correctional Center at Purdy wasn’t a fact Alix willingly broadcast. “I told him.” There was little Jordan didn’t know about her. She didn’t want any unpleasant surprises in their relationship. He knew her mother had gone to prison for the attempted murder of Alix’s father, too.
“Do you ever think about her?”
“Not much.” Alix found all these questions mildly annoying, but Laurel had been so moody lately that she wanted to encourage her to continue chatting.
“Do you love her?”
“My mother?” That question took some real soul-searching, but she was determined to be honest. If she was, then maybe Laurel would be honest with her. “I suppose I do. I don’t have any contact with her because when she writes, all she wants from me is money or cigarettes. She never asks about me or shows any interest in my life. I don’t need her.” She said this in a casual way, as if it was well understood that she didn’t need anyone. “My only worry is that one day I’ll end up just like her.”