The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)

The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1) Page 36

“Fine,” I mumbled.

“Dr. Wilson will want you to bring the X-rays for an appointment here at nine.”

“Okay.” I was numb. I’d been given this reprieve of six years and I felt cheated not to have more. I wanted so many more.

Twice now, my father had been my strength, but this time he was gone and I was alone. Mom was incapable and Margaret would be furious when she heard this. I couldn’t help believing that my sister would find some way to blame me for the return of my tumor. She’d say my need for sympathy had encouraged its growth. I almost groaned as I imagined her reaction.

“Bad news?” Brad asked when I replaced the receiver.

I hadn’t noticed he was no longer in the back room. The coffee had obviously finished brewing because he held a mug in his hand.

“No,” I lied. “But unfortunately I won’t be able to make dinner on Friday.”

“Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” How I managed to smile I’ll never know, but I did, gazing up at him with a look worthy of an acting award.

Brad left soon afterward and if he suspected anything was wrong, he didn’t let on. I’d give it an hour or two, then phone him on his cell and make sure he understood that our relationship was over. I knew I was taking the coward’s way out, but I didn’t want to argue about it or discuss the details with him. I didn’t want to hold out false hope or have it held out to me. Experience is the best teacher. I would make it easy on Brad and save him the trouble later.

Just when I’d begun to feel that I had a real chance at life, it was being snatched away from me—again. I knew this routine, having lived it. The tests come back with questionable results. A consultation is followed by even more tests, extensive ones that require an overnight stay in the hospital.

Then the prognosis is delivered by a grim-faced Dr. Wilson, who would squeeze my hand before he left the hospital room.

I’d always wondered what that little gesture was supposed to mean. At first I thought Dr. Wilson was telling me to be brave. To fight the good fight, to give this battle my all. Now I know differently. He was telling me how sorry he was. He’s only human, and there’s only so much he can do.

As soon as I could, I’d break all ties with Brad. Someday he’d understand and while he might not thank me now, I knew he would later.

CHAPTER 35

CAROL GIRARD

I t’d been a week since Carol’s miscarriage. Doug slept soundly beside her, but she was wide awake. Staring at the digital display on the clock radio, she saw that it was 3:27 a.m. Knowing it would be impossible to fall back asleep, she stole quietly out of bed. Walking blindly in the dark, she made her way into the silent living room.

All her lost dreams, all her and Doug’s abandoned plans for the future, fell upon her like a collapsing building. There would be no baby. She wouldn’t cuddle an infant in her arms or know the joy of nursing her own baby at her breast.

An entire seven days had passed since the miscarriage and, other than that first dreadful night, Carol hadn’t stepped foot inside the baby’s nursery. She couldn’t; it was just too painful. The door had remained closed, and she was sure Doug hadn’t gone in there, either.

Over dinner last evening, he’d suggested they call the department store and arrange to have the baby furniture returned. They had no reason to keep it, and while she knew her husband was only being practical, it felt as if he’d plunged a knife straight through her heart.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to them. They were so much in love and they were good people. Everyone who knew them said they’d make wonderful parents.

Carol had hoped this gut-wrenching agony would lessen with time. It’d only been a week, but the ache, the emptiness inside her, hadn’t even begun to dissipate. If anything, it’d grown worse. The only solace she’d found had been with her online support friends. They understood and had wept with her.

Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Carol clamped her arms around her middle and started to rock in grief and pain and loss.

It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. Rick, her irresponsible, reckless, immature brother, was able to father children he didn’t want with a woman he didn’t love. Where was the fairness in that? Where was the justice? That poor baby…Neither parent seemed to care.

Carol’s eyes flew open. A tingling sensation ran up and down her arms. Rick! Carol bolted off the sofa and hurried back into the bedroom. Intent on waking her husband, she leaped onto the bed.

“Doug, wake up!” she cried, kneeling over him.

Her husband ignored her and rolled onto his side.

“Doug!” she shouted, giddy with relief and joy. Hope could be a powerful drug and at the moment she was infused with it. “Doug, I have to talk to you.” She shook him urgently.

“Carol,” her husband protested, peering at the clock with one eye, “it’s the middle of the night!”

“I know…I know.” On her knees, she bent over him and kissed his neck. “You have to wake up.”

“Why?” he groaned.

“Because I have something very important to tell you.”

With reluctance marking every movement, Doug rolled onto his back and rubbed his face. He blinked and stared up at her, then frowned. “Is there a reason you’re smiling?”

She nodded, and leaning forward again, she hugged her husband.

“What happened?” Doug asked.

“I was sitting in the living room just now.” She stretched out her arm, her gestures wild with energy. “I was feeling so awful and thinking how unfair life is. I was so sure we’d have a baby and we didn’t and…and then I realized something and I had to wake you.”

Doug struggled into a sitting position so they were eye to eye.

“There’s going to be another baby for us,” she whispered.

“Hold on.” Doug shook his head. “You lost me.” He frowned as he studied her. “Are you talking about adoption?”

This was a familiar subject and with so few infants available, they knew their chances weren’t good. “Not just any baby. I’m talking about adopting Rick’s baby.”

“Your brother?”

She laughed. “Do you know any other Rick?”

“No, but he isn’t the one who’s pregnant.”

“I know, Lisa is. Or was it Kim? I don’t remember and really it doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? God meant for that baby to be ours.”

Doug wasn’t following her plan or if he was, he didn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic. He held her gaze and said gently, “Sweetheart, you’re not thinking straight.”

“I am,” Carol insisted. “It makes perfect sense. Can’t you see? My brother has fathered a child he doesn’t want. He told me he has no intention of marrying the mother. This pregnancy was a shock to Lisa, too—or Kim. Whoever she is. She certainly wasn’t anticipating a child as a result of their affair. Rick told me himself she was using birth control.”

“Yes, but—”

“I know it all sounds very sudden, but I honestly feel this baby was no accident. This is our baby.”

Doug’s sigh echoed through the bedroom. “Honey…”

“The baby’s related to me. It won’t be like adopting a stranger’s child.”

“And you think Rick will agree to this?” Clearly Doug had his doubts.

“Agree?” she repeated, laughing again. “I think he’d leap at the chance to escape child support payments. Furthermore, I want to assure him that neither one of us will ever tell Ellie that this baby is his biological child. We’d give him our word on that, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes, sure.”

“If he ever gets back together with Ellie, he can rest assured that our lips are sealed.”

“What about the baby’s mother?” he asked. “She has some say in this.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Carol said. “She’s going to have to take several weeks off work and we should be willing to compensate her for any lost wages.”

Doug lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I suppose we could make that offer.”

“I could go back to work to help pay for whatever she wants.”

“That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?” Carol protested. Already he was objecting to her plans and it was crucial that he feel as certain about all of this as she did.

“You can’t go back to work for just a few months and then quit again. If you do return to the brokerage, it has to be with the understanding that you only intend to work a set amount of time.”

He was right, but that didn’t thwart her hopes—or her plans. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this adoption work. Just promise you’ll support me.”

“Honey, you know I will.”

“This baby is ours. I can feel it in my heart.” Needing to convince him, she lifted his hand and held it.

Doug closed his eyes and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was afraid—she was, too—but the certainty that this was how things were meant to be overshadowed her fears.

“You’re afraid we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment, aren’t you?”

Doug nodded. “I hate to see you put yourself through this. What if it’s another dead end?”

“I’m the one who should be worrying about that, don’t you think?” Despite Doug’s concern, she was convinced her brother would like the idea.

“Should I call Rick, or do you want to do it?” Doug asked.

Joyfully, Carol tossed her arms around her husband’s neck. “I’ll phone him first thing in the morning and explain everything.” She still hadn’t heard from Rick, not since that evening he’d told her about the pregnancy. By now, he would have received from her parents the devastating report of the miscarriage. Carol realized he purposely hadn’t called or written her. He wouldn’t know what to say and it was easier to ignore her pain. Her brother tended to take the route of least resistance, which was something she hadn’t learned about him until recently.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Doug asked and without waiting for a response, he slid down and pulled the sheet and comforter up to his ears.

Carol felt herself slip from her alert, energetic state into sudden tiredness. She got under the covers, too, burying her head in the pillow. Doug was on his side and she cuddled against him spoon-fashion, draping her arm over his waist.

Tired though she was, her head swam with thoughts of this child and what the adoption would bring to their lives. The old proverb was right: God never closes a door without opening a window. That window was wide open. She’d just had to stand in front of it for a few moments to feel the winds of change. She finally understood what should have been obvious all along.

CHAPTER 36

ALIX TOWNSEND

A lix dumped her dirty T-shirts into the washing machine, added soap and inserted quarters into the proper slots. She had enough shirts from rock bands and concerts to last her a full two weeks. With the old-lady underwear Jacqueline had insisted on buying her, Alix now had the same number of panties as she did T-shirts.