Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance) (15 page)

“I wish I'd had your vision when I opened this place four years ago.”

Maggie stepped away from the front window and stood beside Iris Johansen. “There's no guarantee that my ideas are going to increase traffic.”

The woman picked up the First Steps baby frame Maggie had designed as an example of the Everlasting Smiles line, and held it out for her to see. “With items like this, there's no doubt in my mind. In fact, it almost makes me wish I could be part of this on a daily basis instead of simply your landlord.”

“I don't want you to be just my landlord,” Maggie protested. “I want to be able to call you and ask for suggestions if I mess up.”

Iris set the frame back down. “I don't think you'll be needing suggestions from me, I really don't. But let's see what happens, okay?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Grabbing her purse from the counter, Iris took one last look around the store. “I've been meaning to ask how you're feeling. Any better at all?”

Maggie shrugged. “A little, I guess, but that's what you get for going craft-supply shopping during cold-and-flu season.”

“I'd tell you to take it easy, but now that you're running a store those words are rather futile.” Iris pulled her gloves from her coat pocket and slipped them on. “I wish you great success here, Maggie, I really do.”

“Thank you, Iris.” She took hold of the woman's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And thank you for putting me in contact with that vendor friend of yours. He couldn't have done a better—and faster—job on the sign.”

“My pleasure, dear.” The woman approached the front door, then paused and turned back. “May this be the start of many wonderful ventures in your life.”

“Thank y—oh!” She grabbed hold of the counter as the room began to spin.

In an instant, Iris was at her side. “Maggie, are you all right?”

Closing her eyes, she willed the wooziness to subside. And eventually, it relented. “I'm okay. Just got a little dizzy there for a moment.”

“Perhaps I should stay?”

She waved off the woman's concern. “No. I'll be fine. I just think I need to make sleep a priority this evening.”

“Well, if you're sure…”

“I am.”

And then Iris was gone, closing the door on Lake Shire Gifts & Things for the very last time. Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes, Maggie glanced
around the shop at the various items she'd made over the past three weeks—objects that had kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.

But the pace she'd been keeping surely hadn't helped her fight whatever stomach bug she'd picked up while out and about. For the most part the nausea was manageable, coming and going at odd times. The headache that seemed to be taking its place, though, wasn't as accommodating.

She stepped behind the counter and grabbed her large purse from the shelf underneath the register. Unzipping it quickly, she rummaged around in the hope of finding something that could take the edge off the pain. One by one she touched each item—her wallet, a tube of lip gloss, a small notepad, a few pens and—

“What on earth?”

Wrapping her fingers around the smooth round object near the bottom, she pulled it from her purse.

The wishing ball.

“How did this get in…” The words died away as the answer became clear. She'd put the ornament in her purse when she went to visit Rory that last time. It had looked so nice on his tree she'd wanted him to take it back. Only she never got around to giving it to him.

Because we made love instead.

Stuffing the ornament back into her purse, she gave up on the headache medicine in favor of focusing on anything other than Rory O'Brien. Fortunately for her, it was ten o'clock and time to open the store.

Her
store.

 

“S
O WHERE ARE YOU TAKING
me?” Rory asked as he eyed Delilah from the passenger seat of her car. “And why won't you give me so much as a hint?”

A hint.

The word made him smile. He'd always prided himself on being a patient guy—the sort who took things as they happened. Yet here he was, wanting a hint about their destination, just like Maggie.

He pressed his head against the cool glass and watched the lake and trees and buildings whiz past. For weeks he'd been trying hard to forget about Maggie, to ignore her car in the lot of the inn, to ignore the pull in his heart to see her. Yet no matter how hard he worked, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was better off, he failed. Again and again.

And he knew the reason. He was in love with Maggie Monroe, plain and simple.

“Earth to Rory. Come in, Rory…”

“Huh?”

“You asked a question and I gave you an answer. But I'm thinking you didn't hear me, because you haven't said another word.”

“I'm sorry. I guess I was…well, it doesn't matter.”

“You're missing her, aren't you?”

“Every day.”

It was a simple answer. It was also accurate.

“Then why don't you talk to her?”

He gave another simple answer. “It's like I told you the other night. She wants nothing to do with me.”

“Maybe that'll change.”

“I doubt it.” He pointed out the windshield as Delilah
decreased their speed to accommodate the cobblestone road. “What are we doing here? Do you realize Christmas is only five days away?”

“Bah humbug!” She stopped to let a group of pedestrians cross from one side of the outdoor marketplace to the other, a scowl lowering her brows.

“I'm not bah humbug. Just look at this place—it's crazy.”

“It's almost Christmas, Rory. People are shopping.”

“I see that. Which brings me back to my original question…with a slightly different twist this time around.
Why
are we here? I don't need to shop.”

Delilah drove slowly, her car inching down the road. “Let's just say we're doing a little window looking.”

He studied the shops as they passed—Ray's Gourmet Dog Treats, Sally's Wash & Clip, Lake Shire Antiques, Last Page Bookstore. His confusion over why his friend had insisted on this little excursion was at an all-time high. “Don't you mean window
shopping?
”

“No. I mean window looking.” She clapped her hands above the steering wheel and released a little squeal. “Oooh, rock-star parking!”

“Huh?”

Pointing at the vehicle emerging from a parking spot two car lengths in front of them, she squealed again. “I couldn't get a more perfect place if I tried.”

“A rock star, eh? Don't they usually have chauffeurs?” His laugh echoed through the car, bringing a smile to his companion's face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I haven't heard that laugh in far too long.”

He knew she was right. He'd been burying himself in work the past few weeks—trying desperately to forget the woman living just down the hall. And at times, when he was completely focused on his work, he managed to hold thoughts of her at bay. But the moment he completed whatever task he'd been working on, she rushed into his mind once again.

“I'm sorry, Delilah. I really am. It's just…” he leaned his head against the seat back and drank in their immediate surroundings “…that keeping busy helps…” His words trailed off as the shingle sign across the street claimed his full attention.

“See? It's like I said the other night at the diner…she's walking again.”

Rory's mouth grew dry as he noted the whimsical pink writing, the name nearly leaping off the wooden sign:
Natalie's Nook.

“Wh-what happened to Iris's place?” he asked, even as the answer dawned on him. “Wait, she did it? Maggie really opened up a shop?”

Delilah grinned. “That she has. She's leasing from Iris.”

“I—I don't know what to say.”

“She's barely slept these past few weeks, trying to get things ready. Even when she wasn't feeling well she kept working.”

“Maggie was sick?” He pulled his attention from the window display at Natalie's Nook and fixed it on his friend. “What was wrong?”

She shrugged. “A stomach bug, I guess. I kept telling
her to get some sleep, that she'd be able to fight it better with rest, but she kept on trudging.”

“Is she okay now?”

“I suppose so. I haven't seen her the past few days.” Delilah pinned him with an unwavering stare. “But we could go in now and check.”

He looked back at the store, the pull to go inside almost more than he could bear. But Maggie didn't want him around. She'd made that perfectly clear. “I think we better leave.”

“But—”

“Delilah, please.” Taking a deep breath, he gestured down the road. “I've gotta get back. I have an inn to finish. And the sooner the better.”

 

I
T WAS NEARLY FIVE O'CLOCK
before she came up for air, her first day more of a success than she could have ever imagined. All day long people had come in to welcome her, only to return to the register with item after item.

The holiday wall hangings had been a hit, the front-door reindeer and jolly-faced Santas the most popular of the bunch. The Everlasting Smiles line had generated a number of comments and nearly as many orders. Maggie had even taken a request for a picture frame that would document the moment a child had found his or her shadow. It was a notion that had both intrigued and saddened her at the same time. What she wouldn't give to have seen Natalie reach that stage.

The miniature artificial trees she'd used to display her handmade ornaments were nearly bare, all thoughts of a good night's rest virtually gone. Fortunately, she'd
managed to work on a few projects in the back room during occasional lulls. Had she not, she'd be busy until it was time to open again in the morning.

Still, the persistent headache and momentary bouts of dizziness had to be addressed. How, though, she had no idea.

Put on soft music…close your eyes…and relax. Just like you did with Natalie.
Natalie.

Throughout the day people had asked her about the name of the shop, assuming at first that she was Natalie. The first time or two she'd felt a familiar lump in her throat, sensed a burning behind her eyes. Yet as the day wore on, she began to relish the question.

By naming the shop after her daughter, she'd found a way to merge her past with her present, just as Rory had said.

Rory.

Prior to her arrival in Lake Shire, she'd done little else but cry. Her aunt hadn't been able to reach her. Her cousins hadn't been able to reach her. Her friends hadn't been able to reach her. And after ten and a half months, she'd been tired of them trying.

So she'd packed what she could fit into her car and had taken off for Michigan, to the quiet and solitude of her uncle's inn. Within days she'd made progress, eating, smiling, laughing, dreaming….

And it was all because of Rory. He hadn't pushed. He hadn't insisted. He hadn't bribed. He was simply there. Listening when she spoke, talking when she needed to listen and guiding her along a path she needed to take.

Natalie's Nook wouldn't exist if it weren't for him. Sure, the desire was buried somewhere deep in her soul, but without Rory she doubted whether she'd have ever unearthed it.

His patience and his gentle encouragement had been the push she needed to keep busy. And as he'd predicted, forging a life didn't mean she had to forget.

Natalie's Nook was proof of that.

Maggie peeked out the window at the shoppers who were hurrying home to have dinner with their loved ones. This was the part that was hard. The part where her craft business fell short.

Sure, running the gift shop would keep her busy, giving her a reason to get out of bed every morning. But once five o'clock rolled around, there was nothing to guide her through the rest of the day. Nothing except loneliness.

And this persistent headache.

The headache. Maybe soft music would help. It certainly had when she was pregnant with Nat—

Maggie slapped a hand over her mouth.

Could it be?

“No, no, no,” she whispered, as her feet automatically took her to her purse and the calendar she always carried.

It couldn't be. There was no way. They'd been together only once.

She stared down at the previous month's page, her stomach beginning to churn. The little red notation she'd faithfully used to track her cycle had ceased being needed eleven and a half months earlier.

Until now.

Suddenly the headaches made sense. So did the dizziness. The nausea was a little early, but it happened…

And so did coincidences.

Stress could affect a woman's cycle. Lack of sleep could cause headaches and dizziness. In fact, there were tons of reasons that could explain how she was feeling. There had to be.

He heard her come in, the sound of her quiet footsteps in the hallway making his body react with longing. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things he wanted to ask. Yet he stayed silent, the words burning a hole in his heart.

All afternoon he'd thought of little else but Maggie. Not the fact that he'd finished another room, or that the renovations would be complete in little more than a week. And especially not that he'd be putting his house on the market the second Christmas was over.

No, the only thought that seemed to stick in his head was Maggie. Four weeks ago, she'd been devastated, each step she took quickly undone by guilt and sadness. Yet in those short four weeks she'd picked herself up and found her dream, grabbing hold of it and making it come true.

He was proud of her and he wanted to tell her so. Only she didn't want to talk to him. Not now. Not ever.

It was a reality that pained him in a way few things did. The loss of his parents had been awful, yet he was grateful for the time they'd had. The loss of Reardon
had been almost more than Rory could take, yet he was healing. But losing Maggie? Well, that was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

It was like losing a part of himself.

The best part.

Suddenly, the work he'd dreamed of all his life didn't satisfy him the way it had in the beginning. The truth behind the quiet life he'd come to accept was impossible to ignore. And the future he'd always been able to envision was suddenly more than a little murky.

In fact, the only thing that was clear these days was the hurt—the hurt and the fact that it wasn't going to change as long as she was within arm's reach.

Minnesota seemed as good a place as any to start over. Especially when he'd spotted the ad seeking restoration specialists. The change in geography would force him to snap out of the funk he'd been living in the past few weeks.

Yeah, it was time to take the advice he'd given Maggie at the beginning. A fresh start would do wonders. It had to.

Unhooking his tool belt from his waist, Rory dropped it into the box he kept in whatever room he was working on at the time. His stomach had started gurgling shortly after noon and he simply couldn't ignore it any longer.

He strode out the door and down the hallway, his feet instinctively taking the route that would keep him from getting too close to Maggie's suite. But four steps later he stopped.

Sure, there was a part of him that knew he should keep walking, knew that his knock would be unwelcome. But
there was also a part—a louder part—that said he had to try.

Not because things would be any different. But because he simply wanted to tell her he was proud of her…

Before he said goodbye.

 

T
HE LINE WAS FAINT
but it was there. Just as it was on the second and third tests she took for good measure.

She was pregnant.

“Pregnant,” she whispered as she continued to stare at the pink line. “Pregnant.”

Maggie remembered the moment she'd realized she was carrying Natalie, remembered the disbelief and the utter joy that had flooded her. Suddenly her mind had been consumed with images of cradles and diapers, teddy bears and blocks, mobiles and baby rattles.

It was the same exact feeling she had now.

“I'm carrying Rory's baby.” She waited for the words to stir up fear, to dissolve her into tears as she would have imagined, but they didn't. Instead, they gave her hope. Hope for a life that had been cut short on an icy road in January.

The life she'd wanted to lead as Natalie's mother…

A life she would now lead with Natalie's half sibling.

Feeling the tears begin to flow, Maggie clutched the pregnancy test to her chest in much the same way she had Natalie's ornament four weeks earlier. Only this time, instead of longing for the past, she felt an unfamiliar
pull in a direction she'd refused to consider until that moment.

For just as the shop had been a way to merge her past with her present, this baby—this precious life—would be a way to merge her past with her future.

 

S
UMMONING UP EVERY OUNCE
of courage he could find, Rory turned and headed toward Maggie's suite, the notion of seeing her face giving his feet the lift they needed. Even if she told him to leave, he'd still have gotten to see her one last time.

And if she didn't answer…well, he wasn't ready to entertain that thought. Not yet, anyway.

He lifted his fist to knock and then stopped, hearing an all too familiar sound wafting through the gap beneath the door.

Maggie was crying. Again.

Only this time they weren't the gut-wrenching sobs that had torn at him that first week. No, this time they were softer.

But just as they had in the beginning, they twisted his heart, pulled at the innate desire he had to fix things.

Only Maggie didn't want him to fix her. He'd tried. And she'd pushed him away. Again and again.

Who cared if he was proud of her? His telling her that wouldn't change anything. And as for goodbye, hadn't they said that already? The fact that he was going to Minnesota was nothing more than geography, wasn't it?

Slowly he turned away, jamming his hands into his pockets as he did. It was time to hang it up once and for
all. Maggie was perfectly capable of fixing herself. It was time he concentrated on his own life.

Problem was, he was fairly certain a hammer and nails were no fix for a broken heart.

 

S
HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG
she sat there, her back pressed against the wall, the pregnancy test still clutched in her hand. But it had been a while. The darkness that had descended on the room told that story.

But for once the tears hadn't been the kind that zapped her energy. No, this time they were different.

She
was different. And she had to tell him the news.

Blowing a strand of hair from her forehead, she smiled when it returned to the same spot, oblivious of her efforts.

Few things had made her happy over the past eleven and a half months. In fact, if she thought about it, she could remember the things that had.

Beef stew.

Craft-supply shopping.

Caramel pie.

Belgian waffles.

And Rory.

It was the last one, though, that had been the reason behind all the others. And just like those instances, he was the reason behind the smile she hadn't stopped beaming since the pink line appeared—a smile she'd maintained even while the tears fell.

Her mind made up, she tucked the test into the front pocket of her jeans and turned the doorknob, her ears
straining for any indication of Rory's presence in the inn. But there was nothing.

Not the tap of a hammer, not the whir of a power screwdriver, not the sound of his whistled songs. In fact, the hallway and all the rooms off it were dark.

Stepping back inside the suite, she walked to the window that overlooked the parking lot and saw that her car was the only vehicle present. She felt her shoulders slump for a split second before a new idea formed.

An even better one…

 

I
T WAS NEARLY TEN O'CLOCK
when she pulled up outside his home, the strip of light visible through the curtained front window allaying any fears he might be asleep. Things had taken longer than she'd hoped, thanks to a digital camera with batteries that needed replacing and an outfit that needed to be pressed.

But finally she'd finished.

Staring up at the house, Maggie felt the first pang of unease. What if he was fed up with her constant pushing and told her to take a hike? What if he didn't even want to hear her out?

He will. He loves you.

For weeks now Jack's voice had been guiding her steps, encouraging her to give Rory a chance. She'd resisted the sentiment with everything she had, refusing to acknowledge the fact that it was Jack's voice every bit as much as it was her own. But now she understood.

Rory made her happy. And Jack, of all people, would want her to be happy. It didn't mean she'd forget him.
How could she? Jack had taught her how to love, and he'd given her one of the greatest gifts of all.

But Rory had taught her things, too. He'd taught her to dream. He'd taught her to reach. He'd taught her that third chances were not only possible but worth fighting for. And he, too, had given her one of life's greatest gifts.

She ran a hand across her flat stomach and smiled. It was time.

 

H
E GLANCED FROM THE DOOR
to the clock and back again, irritation welling up inside his chest. What could anyone possibly want this late at night? Lifting the remote into the air, he increased the volume of the mindless drivel he'd managed to fall asleep to thirty minutes ago.

The knock came again.

Groaning, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table and rolled to his feet. “Who is it?” he snapped as he made his way over to the door, his bare feet making creaking sounds on the wood planked floor.

“It's me, Rory. It's Maggie.”

He stopped in his tracks, his heart thudding.

“Please. I n-need to talk to you. But it's r-really c-cold out here.”

Flinging open the door, he reached for her arm and pulled her inside. “What are you doing here?” The second the words were out, he tried to recall them. “Wait. I don't mean that the way it sounds. It's just that it's ten o'clock on the coldest night of the year.”

Her teeth chattered as he ushered her into the hearth room toward the dwindling fire. Grabbing a log from the
bin, he tossed it onto the grate and stoked the embers to life. “There you go. That should help.”

“Thank you.” She turned to him, and he saw that the tip of her nose was almost as red as the sweater peeking out at the neckline of her coat. “I'm sorry to bother you so late…but we need to talk and I'm hoping you'll say okay.”

“Okay?”

“To talking. I was absolutely horrible to you the last time I was here, and I can only imagine how unhappy you must be to see me right now.”

He stepped back, his eyes registering every detail of Maggie's presence, from the soft brown hair that cascaded down her spine to the black, knee-high boots that hugged her shapely legs in an alluring fashion. “Unhappy isn't the word I'd have chosen.”

Her face fell. “I'm sorry, Rory. I really am. But because you are the way you are, it makes this whole thing more scary.”

“Help me understand.”

“Losing my parents as a little girl was awful. And losing Jack and Natalie nearly destroyed me. But you brought me back. To a place of joy. But if I lost you, too…” She stopped, took a moment to steady her voice. “Well, I'm not sure I could survive that. I'm not certain my heart could recover ever again.”

“Your heart?”

She nodded. “I felt something for you that I tried to rationalize away as being anything but what it was. And the few times I thought maybe… Well, then I thought about what's happened every time I've felt safe and loved.” Her
voice grew hushed as her gaze locked with his. “And you…you must be so mad at me, mad that I just showed up like this.”

He shook his head. “Hey…I'm not mad about you being here. I'm…I'm ecstatic.” He grabbed hold of her hand and led her toward the couch. “But I'm a little confused, too. The last time you were here you made it pretty clear you didn't want to see me again.”

“Because I couldn't.”

“Couldn't?”

She wiggled out of her coat to reveal the soft curves of her body beneath a Christmas red sweater. “What happened that night happened because I wanted it to. And it felt right.”

He sucked in his breath. “Then I don't understand. Why did you shut down on me?”

“Because I was scared.”

Biting back the urge to speak, he simply waited, knowing that whatever had brought her to him would eventually reveal itself. The fact that she was there, within arm's reach, was all he needed at that moment.

“Having the kind of feelings I have for you opens a person up for unimaginable hurt. But so, too, does turning your back on it.”

“Feelings?” he repeated. “You have feelings for me?”

The touch of her hand on his face told him everything he needed to know, though her words were just as powerful. “I've had feelings for you from the moment you first showed up on my doorstep. I tried to rationalize it away, tried to call it a million different things other than what
it was, but at some point you have to see the truth. And the truth—for me—is that I care very deeply for you.”

“Are…are you sure?”

The nod of her head nearly brought him to his knees. “Since the accident, everyone has been trying to get me to live again. And I resisted all of them. Yet something about you was different. You found things out about me—about my dreams and my wants—that I didn't even know myself anymore. You discovered them without pushing.”

He couldn't help but laugh. “Siccing a personal knitting instructor on you wasn't pushing?”

“No.”

“Dropping off a carton of craft supplies wasn't pushing?”

She shook her head.

“Dragging you through a shop that was going out of business wasn't pushing?”

She opened her mouth, only to close it in favor of a smile that brought his body to full attention.

He scooted closer to her on the sofa, her sheer presence making his head spin. “Then if it wasn't pushing, what was it?”

“Guiding, helping, believing, motivating…take your pick.”

Grasping her hands in his, he caressed them with his thumbs, the feel of her skin driving him crazy. “You didn't mention the one I would have chosen.”

She stared up at him. “Which one is that?”

“Loving.”

She gasped. “Loving?”

“Loving,” he repeated, his voice raspy with emotion. “Aw, Maggie, I've been miserable without you the past few weeks. It's like this ray of sunshine came into my life and cast my world in the most brilliant color it's ever known, only to have a cloud whip across the sky and blot it out again.”