The Christmas Baby Page 9

  Ryan crossed the square to his car. As for what the evening possibly held for him and Anna?

  It was getting harder and harder to deny the attraction he felt for her. He grimaced. They were just friends. Can’t get attached. He was leaving soon.

  Leaving too soon? He scrubbed his hand over his face. Or not soon enough?

  * * *

  Zander and his uncle never showed.

  Anna and Ryan waited an hour at the restaurant, sending the Guzmans and the Ericsons ahead to save them a spot at the tree lighting ceremony.

  Finally on the village green, Ryan’s breath frosted in the wintry air. “If I had any idea where he lived, I’d—” His jaw clenched.

  “Me, too.” She huddled into the warmth of her coat. “Maybe something came up. A reason his uncle couldn’t bring him. Or maybe Zander changed his mind about coming.”

  Ryan blew on his cold fingers. “Is that what you really think?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Zander had been especially self-controlled and diligent over the past week. He’d been desperately sincere—and for once very childlike—in his desire to attend the tree lighting.

  Ryan’s eyes clouded. “If nothing else, Zander’s not the type to lose the chance for a free milkshake.”

  “What should we do?”

  Her heart hurt from fretting about the whereabouts of the third grader. Was he sobbing somewhere because one more adult had let him down? Hungry because no one cared enough to make sure he got something to eat?

  “There’s nothing we can do about it now.” Ryan hunched his shoulders. “Try not to worry.”

  She stepped closer. “Like you’re not worrying?”

  “We’ll sort it out with him on Monday. Give him another reward.” Ryan’s lips tightened. “A reward within our control.”

  Using Ryan as a windbreak, she nestled against his side. “Brrrr.” It was nice leaning into him. Relying on his wisdom and strength instead of having to shoulder everything alone.

  “Are you cold?” His arm went around her shoulders. Almost immediately, though, he dropped it. “Sorry.” He inserted a breath of space between them.

  She regretted more than the loss of his warmth. But she couldn’t say that, of course. They were friends. She shouldn’t expect anything more. She was being foolish. Tears burned her eyelids.

  Hormones. She sniffed. She needed to get her act together. Ryan was leaving soon. She had to face facts. But it was a reality that caused her chest to ache.

  “When, Mama?” Oscar, the human pogo stick, plucked at his mother’s coat sleeve. “When?”

  Brittany smiled at her son. “Soon,” she whispered. “Good things come to those who wait. Right, Mrs. Reyes?”

  Anna nodded, and the pressure eased at Brittany’s soft-spoken reminder. They waited with most of the year-round residents for the lights of a Kiptohanock Christmas to shine forth on the darkened square.

  High overhead, stars glittered in the velvety blackness of the December evening. Ryan hummed a Christmas song. She shouldn’t get too used to Ryan. Who lately seemed so much more than a friend.

  She nudged him. “You sound happy.”

  “It’s the most wonderful time of the year. How about you?”

  She blushed. “Yes,” she whispered. “I am.” More than she would’ve believed possible a few weeks ago.

  He gave her that lopsided smile of his. And something fluttered in her chest.

  “Good.” His eyes crinkled. “My job is done.”

  She bristled. Was that what she was to him? A job.

  For more than the usual reasons, this year she’d come to dread contemplating the day after Christmas. Ryan would be gone. And whatever she’d be doing, she’d be doing alone.

  “About that...”

  He glanced at her.

  “After the tree lighting, would you come back to the trailer?”

  He pursed his lips. “I do have to drive you home.”

  “I meant to watch a Christmas movie with me.”

  He frowned. A long moment in which she had difficulty drawing in a breath of air. Finally—

  “Okay.” He tugged the end of her red tartan scarf. “Unless it’s one of those sappy chick flicks.”

  Blissful relief.

  “Oh.” She grabbed his coat. “Look.”

  Sudden light blazed from the four corners of the square. Atop the gazebo, the star burned brightly, pushing away the inky blackness of the night. Gasps of delight echoed around the green. Maria clapped her little brother’s hands together. And Oscar’s eyes weren’t the only ones shining.

  Thanks to a heads-up by Agnes and Reverend Parks, the Ericsons and the Guzmans soon found themselves knee-deep in a crowd of town residents eager to make their acquaintance. She and Ryan called out their goodbyes as they ambled toward his car.

  Gratitude flooded her heart. It was so good to be home, a place where people cared about each other. Good ole Kiptohanock.

  She stole a look at Ryan as they drove out of the village over the small bridge. Was it gratitude she felt for him?

  At the trailer, she set a bag of popcorn inside the microwave. Over the last week, she’d glimpsed snatches of the loneliness Ryan did his best to hide from family and friends.

  But she saw through his busyness to his heart. She’d always been able to see through the shields he erected. To the real Ryan. He was going to make some woman—

  She clenched her eyes shut against an image of Ryan loving someone else. Of being loved by someone else. When he left soon... Her throat caught. Not seeing him would be excruciating.

  Every day she promised herself she’d back away from Ryan. Yet every night she couldn’t go through with her plan to wean herself from spending time together. Instead, she baited him with yet another project.

  Making it harder for him to eventually leave. To leave the kids. To leave her. But each evening when he finished her latest To-Do item, her resolve weakened. Her palms became clammy. She actually felt dizzy. And she found herself cajoling him back again.

  The microwave dinged. She shook herself. She had to stop needing him. Tonight, she had to let him go. Set him free to live the life he most wanted. She was being selfish.

  If she truly loved him... She yanked open the microwave. Loved? Grabbing the popcorn bag, she slammed the microwave door shut.

  Of course she loved him. She’d loved Ryan Savage since they were six years old. He was her best friend.

  “Everything okay in there, Anna Banana?” he called from the living room.

  She gritted her teeth as she tore into the bag and dumped the contents into a large plastic bowl. “Almost ready.”

  Which was another lie. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ryan. Clutching the bowl against her chest, she headed to the living room, where he crouched before the television.

  Glancing up, he smiled. She ignored the flurry in her pulse that his smile ignited. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ryan beat her to the punch.

  “How about we do a Walmart run tomorrow?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  Hands on his knees, he shifted his weight. “Get some stuff for the baby just in case.”

  She blinked. “Just in case what?”

  Rising, he took the bowl from her. “While you have me here to help you. So you don’t have to deal with it alone after I move.”

  “I—”

  He held up his hand. “Before you go ballistic on me, Mom and the sisters are bugging me to find out what you need for the baby. Since you wouldn’t let the church ladies give you a baby shower.” He gave her a look. “You’d be doing me a favor by getting them off my back.”

  “Okay.”

  “’Cause if it’s one thing I don’t need is a bunch of hens—wait.” He cocked h
is head. “Did you say yes?”

  With only the bowl—and the baby—between them, she had a hard time remembering to breathe. “I’d love to go shopping with you.” She headed to the seen-better-days sofa. “I’m female, aren’t I?”

  He flopped on the couch beside her. “Never been a question about that.”

  She took the bowl before he spilled the popcorn.

  He snagged a handful of kernels. “What’s on tonight?”

  She scrounged under the cushion for the remote and handed it to him. “My favorite. It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “My favorite, too.”

  She swallowed. “I remember.”

  He munched on popcorn while they watched the movie. Kicking off his shoes, his long legs stretched out on the braided rug. During the commercials, he crooned familiar holiday jingles to car dealerships and department store ads.

  “You are insane.” But she laughed as he meant her to. Egging him on further. Such a guy. She grinned.

  Tiring of holding the popcorn, she rested the half-empty bowl on top of her belly. Her stomach rippled. And a tiny, rounded punch sent the bowl sailing off the couch.

  She gasped as the popcorn went flying. The bowl landed on the rug with a thud. “Did you see that?”

  He bent over her abdomen. “Way to go, little bit. Tell your mama you’re not a table.” He touched his hand to her belly.

  Another thump. He sucked in a breath and removed his hand.

  “The baby knows your voice, Ryan.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “You think?”

  “I do.” She seized his hand and pressed his palm against her side. “Do it again. Say something.”

  For a second, he resisted the pressure of her hand. But leaning closer, he sang a line from “The Little Drummer Boy.” “Pa-rumm-pa-rumm-pumm.”

  A one-two punch crested like a wave across her abdomen.

  He bit his lip. “It’s because I’m a guy. Like you’d hear a bass thrumming in a monitor.”

  She shook her head. “The baby’s never done that with anyone else but me. And my voice isn’t as deep as yours.”

  “You really think the baby likes me?”

  She tilted her chin. “What’s not to like?”

  His gaze lifted to hers. Her heart pounded at his expression. Fire and ice. Like a sweep of snowflakes dancing across her skin. Like the flame of a candle burning in an otherwise dark night.

  When another wave of motion crested across her belly, the moment was lost.

  Moving his hand to the new location, Ryan’s face transformed. “Hello, little one.” A somersault this time.

  She laughed, but tears swam in her eyes. “Baby says hello to you, too.”

  “You’re going to have a wonderful life, little one.” His eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “Such a wonderful life, Anna.”

  And for the first time since she buried Mateo, she believed it just might be true.

  Chapter Ten

  At Walmart the next day, Ryan held up two diaper bags. “Take your pick, Anna Banana.”

  Resting against the handle of the shopping cart, she touched her finger to her chin. “I like the black polka-dot one. Très chic.”

  He tossed it into the growing pile of purchases. Stunned at the amount of stuff babies required.

  She frowned. “Are you keeping a tally against how much your mom gave you?”

  He reached for a Diaper Genie on a nearby shelf. “Don’t worry about it.” He loaded the large box into the cart.

  “That’s too expensive. Ryan...” She tapped her foot on the store linoleum. “Are you listening to me?”

  Somebody ought to tell her how cute she looked aggravated and pregnant. Somebody. Not him. He was leaving in a few weeks. And he preferred not to dwell on that moment last night when she’d looked at him.

  Ryan lifted something labeled a onesie. “How about this?”

  She gave him one of her best teacher looks.

  “You realize since I’m a teacher myself, those looks bounce right off me.”

  She arched her eyebrow and grinned.

  In a mild state of shock, he realized it was the first time he’d self-identified as a teacher. Not a research scientist.

  To be on the safe side—and to give himself time to recover—he tossed in two onesies.

  “You’re going to buy everything, aren’t you?” She blew out a long, slow trickle of air between those beautiful, plum-tinted lips of hers. “No matter if I protest or not.”

  He grabbed a package of pacifiers. “I’m enjoying myself.”

  She tilted her head. “Of course, there’s one thing I haven’t figured out about you.”

  He smirked. “I’m amazed there’s only one thing.”

  Anna leaned her elbows on the cart. “I haven’t figured out why you’ve never asked.”

  Slam-dunking the pacifiers into the cart, he reached for a set of bibs. “Asked what?”

  “The baby’s gender.”

  His pulse zipped. “Didn’t figure it mattered. Didn’t realize you knew.” He studied the directions on a baby monitor as if his life depended on it.

  “Do you want to know?”

  Ryan’s heart hammered. Yes, he wanted to know the identity of the little person to whom he was becoming too attached.

  He took a ragged breath. No, he didn’t want to know any more than he already did about this child, who’d somehow claimed a piece of his heart before ever being born.

  “Ryan?”

  He looked at her then. “What are you having, Anna?”

  “A girl. Her name is Ruby. After Mateo’s grandmother.”

  He gulped past the lump in his throat. “Ruby Reyes will be as beautiful as her mom.”

  Anna blushed. “I’ll meet her in less than a month.”

  But not him. He still planned to leave right after Christmas.

  He picked up a lullaby CD. “Better get this, too. For when Ruby’s favorite baritone isn’t around.”

  For a moment, Anna looked exactly the way he felt lately every time he pictured his leave-taking. She took the CD from him and turned away.

  “What about a bassinet, Anna?”

  Her shoulders tensed. “I’ll save my money for a crib. Charlie and Evy can help me pick one out later.”

  Ryan didn’t want Charlie and Evy to pick out Ruby’s crib. Ruby... He gritted his teeth. Exactly why he hadn’t asked before.

  Now he had a name to put to the little face he’d be missing when he was alone in the condo in North Carolina. But he wanted Ruby to have something from him. Otherwise, there’d be nothing to remind Ruby of the man who once—

  Steeling himself against the rush of emotion, he pointed the cart toward the checkout counter. Good thing he’d already started a special project for Ruby.

  “You ever going to decorate that sad excuse for a Christmas tree, Anna Banana?”

  Anna’s brown eyes narrowed as if sensing something amiss. She’d always been able to read him. “You up for some tree trimming soon?”

  He got in the checkout line. “Just say the word. I can trim with the best of ’em. Trim like nobody’s business.”

  She emptied the cart of the smaller items. “Want to ride to church later for the costume fitting?”

  The cashier ran the items through the scanner. Keeping an eye on the digital display, he lifted the heavier items for the cashier to scan. “I can’t this afternoon.”

  “Both of us need to be fitted—”

  “The advantage of having a sister with a costume design degree is that she can do the fitting in the privacy of our home. And I have other plans.”

  “Other plans?” Anna’s voice quieted. “Oh.”

  He loaded the baby stuff into his car. Climbing
into the passenger seat, her mouth thinned. She glared at him when she caught him checking out the dashboard clock for the fourth time. His other plans involved the secret project he was working on for Ruby.

  Ryan refused her offer to help unload the trunk. “It’ll be quicker if I do it myself.”

  Lifting her chin, she held the door for him. With quick efficiency, he stacked the purchases in a spare bedroom.

  He wiped his hands against his jeans. “That about does it.”

  “Well, then.” She made a sweeping gesture. “Don’t let me keep you from your other plans.”

  He paused at the front door. “Are you feeling okay, Anna?”

  She bared her teeth. “Never better.”

  His eyebrows rose. Must be pregnancy hormones.

  Not for the first time, he was thankful to be a guy.

  Ryan drove home. Later in the woodworking shop behind the barn, he became so engrossed in his project—

  “What’s that?”

  Jolting, he grabbed his chest. “Give a guy a warning next time, Tess.”

  “Is that a—? Oh, Ryan. It’s gorgeous.”

  Ryan pulled a drop cloth to hide the evidence. “Were you needing something, sis?”

  Tessa’s large, doe eyes reminded him of Anna. “I can drop off the manger you made when I head to church for the costume fitting.”

  He scrubbed his jaw. “Thanks. Let me carry it out for you.”

  Ryan steered Tessa to the opposite side of the shed, where he’d stored the rough-hewn manger. He hadn’t expected anyone to walk into his private domain. Since Dad died, the shop had become a place to work with his hands.

  Cutting. Drilling. Sanding. Amid the aromatic scents of fresh-cut lumber, a place to quiet his thoughts. A place to pray about the yearnings of his heart. Which, until recently, he’d believed fulfilled when he accepted the new research job.

  Now he wasn’t so sure. Contentment with his leave-taking was not the primary emotion he was feeling. He lifted the feeding trough in his arms.

  Outside the barn, sunlight shimmered off Tessa’s brown curls. She surged ahead to her blue Camry. “Ethan’s got the hay bale in the trunk. I hope the manger will fit on the seat.”