Pregnancy Countdown Page 9

  He grinned. “Like it?” He spread his arms out and turned in a circle.

  “I’d like it better if I was wearing sunglasses,” she said dryly, handing him the large pan holding her brownies.

  “Why would you want to share your brownies with those cretins?” he asked, also taking her tote bag from her while she held on to the end of Brumby’s leash. She held what looked like a halter in her other hand.

  “Those cretins are your family and friends,” she pointed out as she locked the door.

  “Exactly.” He took her arm with his free hand and guided her out to his truck.

  “Here’s Brumby’s harness for the seat belt.” She handed him the harness. “I forgot this the last time.”

  Mark lifted Brumby into the back seat, slid the harness around the dog and clipped it to the seat belt. Then he set the container of brownies on the floor. After Nora settled herself in the passenger seat, they were ready to go.

  “What was it like growing up in a large family?” she asked after Mark reached the freeway.

  He looked surprised by her question.

  “I guess the opposite of being the only child.” He guessed the reason for her inquiry. “When you’re little you always have someone to play with. Someone to blame if it looks like you are going to get in trouble. But you’re also fair game when you’re the youngest, which I was for some time before Nikki came along. Jeff and Brian used me for their personal target practice and Ginna bossed me around every chance she got,” he chuckled.

  She smiled, caught up in his story. “Something tells me you made sure to get even with them.”

  “Hell, yes. Jeff discovered his book report for For Whom the Bell Tolls somehow turned into Horton Hears A Who. Brian ended up with two dates to the homecoming dance and let’s just say the next time Ginna gave her hair some highlights, they turned an interesting shade of powder blue.”

  “You didn’t do them all at once, did you?” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or commiserate with her friend for having a devilish younger brother.

  “Nope, I eked them out over the course of a few years. Those were just the more memorable of my little antics,” he admitted.

  “I can’t imagine they let you get away with it,” she said. “Or did they leave the punishment up to your parents?”

  “Dad always felt we should fight it out among ourselves as long as blood wasn’t spilled. Mom pretty much felt the same. I had to type Jeff’s correct book report, explain what I did to both girls and pay for Ginna’s hair to be returned to the right color,” Mark said. He cast her a sideways glance. “Did you miss not having brothers and sisters?”

  “Sometimes,” she confessed. “Then other times I decided it was for the best. Grammy Fran lived in a neighborhood with very few children in it. I got used to being on my own most of the time.”

  Mark drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “We never talked about our childhoods all that much, did we?”

  “No, we didn’t. What I knew about your family came from Ginna,” Nora replied.

  He grinned, easily reading more into her statement than she let on. “I can imagine what she said about me.”

  “Pain in the butt was probably the politest description.”

  “She must have been in a good mood that day.” Mark quickly changed lanes and set the cruise control. “Usually she refers to me in much more colorful terms.”

  Nora half turned in her seat so she could face him. “I may have done a little paraphrasing. I’d hate to think I’d hurt your feelings.”

  “If you’d grown up with those three, you’d have to have a cast-iron self-esteem or go down in flames in no time. If you didn’t have siblings to make your life miserable, what did you do?”

  “Grammy Fran made sure I had as normal a childhood as possible. She had trunks of old clothes. When I was little we’d play dress-up and have afternoon tea. I helped bake cookies for bake sales at church. My grandmother sat on a lot of committees.”

  Mark was quiet for a moment. “Still, it must have been pretty lonely for you.”

  “It was sometimes,” she agreed. “I was pretty shy back then, so I didn’t mind that I didn’t have a lot of friends.” She touched his arm. “It wasn’t as if I was a prisoner or something.”

  “You never said much about your parents.”

  “Not much to say about them,” she said offhandedly. “They divorced when I was young. My father moved out of the state and started a new life and my mother didn’t. Grammy Fran took over and she did her best to make sure I had a fairly normal childhood. I was better off than a lot of children.” She hated herself for sounding so defensive. “How big a crowd is expected today?”

  Mark’s expression told her he knew she was deliberately changing the subject. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to talk about her grandmother. That wound was still tender. She especially didn’t want to talk about her parents. Those memories she locked away long ago and she preferred to keep them filed away. It was bad enough a few had snuck out recently.

  “The usual mob. Most of our crew and families,” he replied, meaning coworkers from the fire station and family friends. He flipped the turn signal and headed down the freeway off-ramp. The strip malls and housing tracts soon turned into rural surroundings.

  Nora looked out the window at horses grazing in one paddock with doe-eyed llamas strolling leisurely around their own grassy areas. Farther down was an emu ranch. A loud screech resembling a woman’s screams assaulted their ears.

  “Peacocks,” Mark identified the sound. “Downright scary when you hear it in the middle of the night. You’d think someone was being murdered.” He turned at a mailbox designed to look like a touring car from the 1930s with the name Walker written on the sides in elegant script. “Dad found a Duesenberg that needs some of his tender loving care,” he explained. “Hence, the new mailbox.”

  “Hence?” Nora arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they used that word in comic books.”

  “I’ve been known to read something meatier than the latest Marvel classic.”

  Nora looked out the window again. Her stomach gave a little lurch. She lowered the window and took several deep breaths.

  “Are you okay?” Mark asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It just got close in here for a moment.”

  Mark drove up a winding driveway that ended in front of a sprawling house painted a pale dove gray with colonial blue trim. Cars, trucks and SUVs took up enough space to qualify for a small parking lot.

  As Mark helped Nora down then rescued Brumby from the back seat, a woman walked out the front door. Anyone looking at her easy smile would know she was the mother of the Walker clan. Her brown hair was a few shades lighter than Mark’s coffee-colored hair and held gold and silver highlights due to Ginna’s skill with color. Her blue eyes danced with laughter as she bent down to greet Brumby who’d waddled up to her, his stubby tail beating back and forth with doggie glee.

  “We were wondering when you two would show up!” She straightened up and threw her arms around Mark. Not an easy feat since he was several inches taller. She pulled his head down so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Hello, my dearest baby boy.”

  “Hi, Mom.” He kissed her back. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Now that you’ve given me the praise I am due, you may join the others. Go on with you. I want to talk to Nora.” She patted his cheek then moved on to Nora. Cathy grasped Nora’s arms, holding her at arm’s length. The older woman studied her with the intensity of a scientist viewing something important under a microscope.

  Nora resisted the urge to squirm under the woman’s scrutiny. It was hard enough for her to keep down the panic that was threatening to well upward. She was positive Cathy saw way too much.

  Cathy stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

  “Have you told my knucklehead of a son yet?” she whispered in Nora’s ear.

  Her panic level shot up another hundred degrees. She had the pre
sence of mind to play dumb. “Told him what?”

  Cathy shot her a look that said Nora wasn’t fooling her one bit. “That you’re having his baby.”

  Nora’s gaze frantically shot both ways to make sure Cathy wasn’t overheard.

  The older woman’s face softened with her smile.

  “There are some things that just can’t be hidden,” Cathy murmured. “I’ve always had the gift of knowing when a woman is pregnant. Now, have you told Mark?”

  Nora shook her head. “I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

  “How long have you known?” Cathy asked.

  Nora hesitated. That was all the answer Cathy needed.

  “Obviously, you’ve known longer than the past few hours. I suggest you find a way to tell him before you go into labor.”

  “Mark isn’t…” She paused, not wanting to offend her baby’s grandmother. “He doesn’t…”

  “So you haven’t told him yet. You don’t think he can handle the idea of being a father,” Cathy said softly.

  Relieved the woman understood without Nora saying anything that might insult Mark in the end, Nora nodded.

  Cathy smiled. “Mark might act the age of his nieces and nephews, but I know he has qualities that haven’t even been tapped yet. I can assure you that once he learns, he won’t run to some far-off island. I think he’ll make a wonderful father. So, tell me when the two of you started dating again.”

  “Oh no, we’re not seeing each other again,” she said, dismayed again how her stumbling explanation sounded. “What I mean is, this was…” How was she supposed to tell Mark’s mother that it was a night when she’d desired comfort and he had been there to provide it? “It’s not like I’m some sex-crazed woman who dragged the first available man into her bed. I guess I can’t say I dragged this unwilling man to my bed. I mean he was definitely willing.” She uttered a squeaky sound then clapped her hands over her mouth. Horror washed over her like a cold shower. She wished she’d thought to keep her mouth shut a lot sooner.

  Cathy chuckled. “I had an idea something happened between you two.”

  “How could you think that?”

  “Mark.”

  Nora’s feelings of horror returned. “He said something to you?” She didn’t want to even imagine what Mark might have said. Not that she hadn’t said much more than she’d intended.

  Cathy shook her head. “No, he’s a gentleman. But sometimes it’s what someone doesn’t say that’s more telling than what someone says.” She slid her arm around Nora’s waist and guided her into the house. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I felt a little nauseous coming over,” she confessed. “Morning sickness has become my new non–best friend.”

  “Mark’s driving can make anyone feel a little nauseous,” Cathy said. “Let’s find some crackers for you. Promise me if you feel tired, you’ll go inside and lie down in one of the guest rooms.”

  “Won’t that look a little odd?”

  “With this crowd, it’s easy to get lost. If anyone asks, I’ll hint you’re off somewhere.”

  When the two women entered the kitchen, Ginna, Gail, Brian’s wife, Abby, Jeff’s wife, and two other women were busy mixing dips, adding spices to salads and forming hamburger patties.

  “About time you got here,” Ginna greeted her friend. Her eyes lit up when she saw the pan in Nora’s hands. She took the pan and set it on the counter. “Perfect! You made your brownies!”

  “They’re staying in here,” Gail said, lifting a corner of the cling wrap. “No way we’re allowing those animals out there to enjoy something this good.”

  “As if there would be any left once we take our share,” Abby chimed in, swiping a small square. She popped it in her mouth and closed her eyes as she slowly chewed. “I swear, there are days these are better than sex.”

  “Don’t forget to share!” One of the other fireman’s wives, said, coming up for a square. Sherie’s face lightened with bliss as she nibbled the fudgey treat. “Oh my God, Abby’s right! These are fantastic. What is your secret?”

  Firemen’s and paramedics’ wives and girlfriends alike grabbed a brownie.

  Nora laughed. “It’s no secret. I use buttermilk and French vanilla coffee in my recipe. It gives the brownies more flavor.”

  “Nora makes the absolute best brownies,” Ginna declared. “I have her recipe and do everything it says, including the coffee, but they’re still never as good as hers.” She picked up a second square. “I’ll be running an extra mile for each piece I eat.” She heaved a sigh before biting in. “It’s worth it.”

  “Mommy?” Five-year-old Trey Stone walked in and snagged the hem of Ginna’s shorts. “I’m hungry.”

  “And to think breakfast was only a couple of hours ago,” she told him, dropping a kiss on top of his head. “Here.” She handed him a slice of cheese. “Just don’t tell anyone where you got it. We don’t want all you kids tramping in here demanding food.”

  He stuffed the cheese in his mouth while energetically nodding his agreement. He then noticed what Ginna held in her other hand. His eyes lit up.

  “Can I have some?” His gaze remained fixed on the piece of brownie.

  “Oh, honey, we’re sorry, but they’re for mommies only,” Abby spoke up with a sweet apologetic smile.

  His face fell. “Daddy can’t have any either?” he asked.

  “No, he can’t,” Ginna lied without a qualm.

  Trey stood there for a moment. His small face was solemn with his concentration. “So if only mommies can have it, Emma can’t have any, right?” He referred to his twin sister.

  “That’s right,” Ginna said.

  He brightened. “Okay.”

  “Don’t tell Emma,” she warned him.

  “A secret from Emma.” His face lit up even more. There was nothing he enjoyed more than knowing something his sister didn’t. “Yeah!” He ran out the patio door.

  “God love him. She’ll worm it out of him in three seconds,” Cathy pronounced. “And be in here one second after that.”

  Ginna shook her head. “Trey’s discovered it’s too much fun to know something Emma doesn’t. But tonight he’ll probably tell his dad we were eating food that was for mommies only.” She polished off her brownie in two bites.

  “Will Mark mention you brought brownies?” Abby asked Nora.

  Nora looked out the window and noticed Mark was with several men. He was laughing and talking, with his hands punctuating his part of the conversation.

  “I think he’s forgotten all about them.” She looked farther off and saw that Brumby was being alternately petted and cuddled by Abby and Jeff’s twin daughters who sat on either side of the bulldog.

  “They think Brumby is one of their stuffed animals.” Abby glanced out the window. “It’s a good thing he’s so patient with them.”

  “When he feels he’s had enough, he’ll wander off and find a nice shady spot for a nap,” Nora said. She noticed Cathy had unobtrusively left a packet of crackers on a corner of the counter. She telegraphed her thanks with a smile. She turned back to the other women. “What can I do to help?”

  “WHEN DID YOU and Nora get back together again?” Brian asked when Mark approached the group of men that included his two brothers and new brother-in-law. Brian tossed him a can of beer.

  “We’re not exactly back together,” he replied. “I just saved her the drive over.”

  “You mean you saved her listening to Dad expounding on why she would buy a foreign car when he got a look at her Beetle.” Jeff grinned.

  “He’s going to have to come up with a new speech now that he bought that Duesenberg, which if I remember correctly was manufactured in Germany,” Mark pointed out.

  “That was back when cars were built by master craftsmen, not put together on an assembly line,” Jeff said, familiar with their father’s arguments. “When windows would have etched designs on them, small vases for roses set in the back, seats of buttery-soft leather, sometimes even
a hand-carved dashboard.”

  “When cars were works of art,” Brian continued the well-known discussion with which all the Walker children had grown up. With their father well known as an antique car restorer, it was natural they’d be familiar with every automobile known to man.

  Brian had driven a classic Corvette Sting Ray until Gail’s pregnancy. Without hesitation or a qualm, he’d traded it in for an SUV. Ginna kept her 1966 classic Mustang convertible, but now it carried two child safety seats in the back seat. Even Jeff had once owned a 1967 RoadRunner muscle car, which was put aside for an SUV for his rapidly growing family.

  Mark thought about his siblings’ choice of vehicles and wondered if that wasn’t the beginning of their downfalls. He had always stuck by his beloved Ford pickup. He mourned the day Brian sold his ’Vette, because Mark had secretly lusted after the sports car, but now he viewed it rationally. Once a Walker traded in their much-loved vehicle for something more practical, their life was over.

  “Uncle Mark!” Luckily, he had the presence of mind to hand his beer to his brother and hold up his arms when a tiny blond hurricane jumped up, confident her uncle would catch her.

  “Carrie!” he shouted as loud as she did. He kept his arms around her waist as she wrapped her legs around his. She leaned back so she could study his face.

  “How do you know I’m not Casey?” she demanded.

  “Because Casey would have jumped on my back like the little monkey she is,” he informed his niece, adjusting his grip before she slid down to the ground.

  Carrie leaned back far enough that she could bend backward, with her head hanging down so that her blond ponytail brushed the ground. She squealed with delight as she was swung from side to side.

  “Da-darn, take out my ears, will you?” Mark grumbled, wincing as the strident sounds assaulted his eardrums. “What is it with girls and ear-splitting screams?”

  “You think that’s bad, try it at 2:00 a.m. when one of them wakes up and thinks there’s a monster under her bed,” Jeff told him. “Or when they’ve been out to the movies with their uncle Mark who has loaded them up with candy.”