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And if not?
He wouldn’t think about it. He’d be a good parent. Period.
Claire grinned. “You realize what this means, right?”
He frowned. “No clue.”
“You’re going to have to break the news to Aunt Sally she won’t be meeting Macy yet.”
* * *
“Come on.” Stephanie pulled Macy by the hand through the parking lot of Johnson’s Pumpkin Patch Saturday afternoon. Cars and trucks crawled along the lane until a flagger directed them to park in a field. She scurried through the couples as best as she could.
Boy, it was busy. Laughter, conversation and the occasional squeal punctured the festive atmosphere. Attracted to the sweetness of the nearby apple trees, bees swarmed about the picnic tables she passed. The sun shone hot on her face, and she drank in the aroma of homemade doughnuts. Cinnamon. Her stomach grumbled.
Macy’s hand began to slip from her fingers, but she gripped it tighter. “We’re late, so please walk faster.”
“Why are we meeting him here, Mommy?” Macy whined, each step deliberately slow. Her sling tapped against her little chest to the rhythm of their movements. “Why didn’t we come, just us?”
Stephanie inwardly sighed. Between working full-time, all the hours spent at school, then hunching over homework each evening, she understood why Macy clung to her when they were together. Even when they went to the park, Macy never ran off to play with other kids. She wanted her mom all to herself.
“Because it’s good to have friends.” Stephanie beamed. Maybe her lame answer would put a stop to more questions. If the guilt about not telling Tom was bad, the guilt about not giving Macy a father was worse.
“Don’t want no more friends.” Macy’s knees inched higher as she marched.
“Don’t be silly. Everyone wants friends. You like Tatum at preschool, right? And Josie at day care.”
Macy dug her heels in and yanked back. Now what?
“You don’t need more friends. You have me.” Her glistening eyes pleaded with Stephanie.
She knelt and tweaked Macy’s nose. “Of course I have you. And we’re best friends. But I’m your mom, too. And we both can have other friends.”
“I don’t like him.” Her lower lip bulged.
“Why not?” Why would Macy already not like Tom? She’d seemed fine with him at McDonald’s.
In her pink fleece jacket and pigtails riding high on her head, Macy bobbed her chin and scrunched her face up into a major pout. “I’m not going.”
Stephanie straightened. Not now. A temper tantrum when they were already running late? Couldn’t one thing in her life be easy? Just once?
“You are going.” She put her stern tone on. “This isn’t your decision. We’re meeting Tom here, picking out pumpkins, and you will use your manners.”
Macy stomped her foot.
“That is unacceptable, Macy. Do you hear me?”
Macy’s nose soared, defiance radiating out of her.
Patience. Give me patience.
Might be time for a change of tactic. An act of desperation, surely, and not one any parenting expert would condone, but something had to be done. “I thought you wanted a doughnut. If you forget your manners, you will not get one.”
“I want a doughnut!” Macy’s eyes widened.
“Well, then, you’ll have to behave.”
A moment passed before Macy sighed. “Yes, Mommy.”
Stephanie reached for her hand again. They hustled toward the big barn converted to a country store. Macy oohed over an orange cat running by, and Stephanie craned her neck to see through the clusters of people. Tom’s tall, athletic frame rounded the corner, and her pulse thumped, then sped up. His easy smile? Just like when they first met. In a navy blue pullover and jeans, he attracted several female stares, yet he appeared oblivious to the admiration. She tightened her hold around Macy’s hand.
“Ouch, Mommy.”
“Sorry.” All worked up over six feet of strapping male. And why not? They’d been good together, once upon a time.
He squatted in front of Macy, grinned and held out his hand. “I believe we met already, Miss Macy. How are you doing today? Are you ready to pick out a pumpkin?”
Macy hesitated, but she eventually shook his hand, her eyes stony.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like pumpkins?” He righted himself to a standing position.
Stephanie nudged her.
“They’re all right.” Macy sounded as enthused as she did when she had to get a booster shot.
“Thanks for meeting us here, Tom.” Stephanie plastered her widest smile on. “Why don’t we mosey out to the field? Which patch is the best, do you think?”
With questions in his eyes, he glanced at Macy, who was now picking at her sling. “Looks like a lot of people are headed that way.” He pointed to a lane where kids ran ahead, moms pushed strollers and dads toted young boys or girls on their shoulders.
“Do you want a ride, Macy?” He tapped his shoulders.
She shook her head, pigtails slapping the sides of her face.
“Okay.” He frowned.
Stephanie considered pulling him aside to explain, but what could she say? Macy isn’t really a brat. She’s acting like one because she doesn’t want to share me. Yeah, that would sound great. Stephanie did the best she could as a single mom, and sometimes it wasn’t good enough. When she’d lived with Dad, it hadn’t been as bad. He played with Macy while Stephanie tackled a term paper. He soothed the tension when her patience vanished.
She peeked at her daughter, clutching her hand. How would Tom fall in love with Macy if she acted like a sullen statue?
They made their way to the lane. Ducks flew overhead in a V formation, and a line of trees swished in the light wind.
“So what have you been up to?” Stephanie forced a cheery tone. “How is your family?”
His sharp glance ratcheted her nerves. “They’re good. Claire got married this summer, Libby earlier this year. Bryan and I run all the dealerships, and we share a house. Sam took over as CEO of Sheffield Auto last fall.”
“Your dad retired?”
“Yes and no.” He chuckled. “He retired from the auto business to be a superintendent for my brother-in-law. Dad is in construction now.”
“I always liked Dale.” She stepped over a tree root bumping out of the ground. “I could see him in construction. He’s got a lot of energy.”
“When my grandpa retired, he had a big party. He has lots of energy, too,” Macy said with a shade of snottiness.
“Good.” Tom nodded. “I’m sure he enjoyed his party.”
“He did. We got him floaty balloons and everything.” She picked up her pace, shoulders wiggling with her determined stride.
“I miss my grandpa. He taught me how to tie ropes and build birdhouses. We went out on his fishing boat all summer. I wish he was still around.”
“Where did he go?” For the first time since arriving, her voice wasn’t dripping with attitude.
“Heaven. He died a while back.”
“I’m going to heaven, too.” She jabbed her chest with her thumb. “My Sunday school teacher told me so.”
Tom grinned down at her. The most patient, loving expression crossed his face. Stephanie almost gasped. Loving, yes. But patient? She sifted through her memories. He’d always been quick with a reply. Time must have mellowed him. But maybe that wasn’t fair on her part. Could she say she truly knew him when they were only together a year?
He tugged one of Macy’s pigtails. “Well, you keep listening to your Sunday school teacher.”
“Mommy’s going to heaven. Aren’t you?”
“Yes. And Tom is, also.”
“No, he’s not.” Macy shook her head and laughed.
“Macy, that’s a very mean thing to say.” Stephanie halted.
“But—”
“No buts. All believers go to heaven. You know that.”
“You mean I have to share you there, too?” she wailed. “I don’t want to go anymore.”
Stephanie dreaded looking at Tom, but she had to. His curious expression reassured her. “Will you excuse us a minute, please?”
He nodded.
She marched Macy to the side of the lane and kept her voice low. “Why did you say that, Macy? Do you know you hurt his feelings?”
“I don’t care.” Her cheeks drooped. “Heaven isn’t for him. It’s for us. It’s our girl place.”
“It’s not our girl place. We will be together, but everyone else who trusted in God will, too. You wouldn’t want to leave anyone out of heaven, would you?”
Macy bowed her head and dragged her tennis shoe back and forth in the dirt.
“Answer me, Macy.”
“I want to go home.”
Clenching her hands into fists, Stephanie waited until her nerves calmed before answering. “Fine. I’ll take you home. I’ll call the sitter. You can stay there, but I’m coming back to pick out pumpkins with Tom.”
That got her attention. Macy wrapped her arms around Stephanie’s legs. “No! I want to stay. He can go to heaven, too.”
“It’s not your decision if he goes to heaven or not. You owe him an apology.”
“But, Mama—”
“No buts.” Stephanie led Macy back to the lane. “Macy has something to say to you. Don’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” The muffled words barely were out before she started sobbing.
Stephanie wrapped her in a hug and kissed her head. “I know apologizing was hard, but you did the right thing.”
Macy pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Do I still get a doughnut?”
“It depends.” Stephanie darted a glance Tom’s way and mouthed, “Sorry.” Then she moved forward. “Let’s try over there. I see a big pumpkin with your name all over it.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_7d79d893-e2ad-53cb-b300-da296bbdc975)
Thankfully, her lunch break had finally arrived. The phones had been ringing nonstop all morning, and if Stephanie had to argue with one more insurance rep about covering a porcelain filling, she was going to rip the phone out of the wall. There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world for Mondays like this.
Bea, the other receptionist at the dentist office, had invited her to eat at their favorite deli. As they crossed the parking lot to get into Bea’s sporty black car, Bea chatted about her upcoming vacation plans.
“You sure have been quiet. Are you feeling okay?” Bea asked. Her chic white bob and subtle makeup matched her warm, intelligent personality. Stephanie considered her more of a worldly-wise aunt than a coworker.
“I’m fine. A little stressed.” As the car merged with traffic, Stephanie relaxed into the seat. At least the sun was shining. The day wasn’t completely bad. “Every time I answer the phone it’s a crisis.”
“Tell me about it.” She chuckled and peeked over. “A little green is peeking out from your bruise again. Remind me to touch it up with my concealer stick when we return.” She braked for a traffic light. “What are you going to do about your car?”
“Insurance is supposed to cut me a check this week. My old one wasn’t worth much, so I’ll have to find a used car in a limited price range.” Another to-do on an already crowded list. If only Dad was here. He’d help her pick out a vehicle. He’d check it over and tell her if it had major problems. She missed him. Missed having someone to rely on.
“How’s Macy doing?”
“Her wrist hurts, but she’s convinced she doesn’t need the sling. You know how kids are.” They sped past apartment buildings, fast-food joints, the pharmacy and a grocery store before coming to a stop at the bustling sandwich shop.
Since moving to Kalamazoo, Stephanie hadn’t told anyone about Tom, but she longed to confide in someone. And she appreciated Bea’s faith-filled perspective, something Dad lacked. She’d tried to get him to attend church with her, but he’d never been interested. Moving here and meeting Bea had given her a Christian shoulder to cry on, not that she did very often. But now she needed help—emotional and advice-wise.
After ordering subs and sodas, they found a table in the corner next to a window. Bea opened her sandwich to look it over before taking a bite, but Stephanie left hers wrapped next to her.
“I have to tell you something, and I’m really nervous about it.” Stephanie folded her hands, clutching them tightly. Questions swirled in Bea’s hazel eyes. “I think we’re good enough friends that you won’t hold this against me, but if you don’t want to talk to me after this, I understand.”
“We’re not in high school.” Bea flung a stray onion off her cheese, closed the bun and bit into it. “Nothing you could say would kill our friendship. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
Nothing like this. Stephanie drew her shoulders back. “I used to be married. Five years ago, to be exact. The whole romance whizzed by quicker than a Michigan spring. Within six months of saying ‘I do,’ we split up. During the divorce, I found out I was pregnant, but the way things ended... I didn’t think he’d ever want to see me again.”
Bea’s sandwich hovered next to her mouth. Stephanie didn’t know what to say. Then Bea blinked and made a rolling gesture with her arm. “Well, go on.”
Her teeth chattered. “Everything fell apart that year. I dropped out of school before the wedding. My college friends—the same ones I’d had all through high school—wanted me to hang out and party with them. Tom was working his way up at his dad’s company and had no time for me. I spent more and more evenings with my friends and their friends, and one friend in particular. He listened. Looked at me like I was somebody. Made me feel less lonely. We started meeting on our own. I justified it, telling myself Tom wasn’t paying attention to me, that it didn’t hurt anyone because we were just talking. But Tom drove into the city one day, and he saw us holding hands.”
