The Second Time Around Read online

No more stalling, Laurel silently ordered, forcing herself to cross the last bit of distance to the shop’s front entrance. And then, determined, she forced herself to walk in. A soft, tinkling bell announced her. She felt like turning on her heel and going right back out again.

  The appearance of another human being, emerging from the back of the store, prevented her from making good her escape. A very perky salesperson, more girl than woman, came even before the sound of the bell had faded away. She looked as if she’d just recently graduated from nursery school and was currently working her way through the elementary grades.

  The salesgirl fairly bounced across the room, as light on her feet as Laurel felt heavy. “May I help you?”

  Laurel wanted to browse in peace, to look through the various styles and try to find something that wasn’t designed for the pregnant twenty-two-year-old. Obviously with the baby salesgirl at her elbow, that wasn’t about to happen.

  She vaguely remembered that when her mother was pregnant with Lynda, she’d complained about the various skirts with their cut-out panels and how unflattering everything labeled “maternity” was. On top of that, there had been very little to choose from. From the quick scan she’d just taken as she entered the store, it appeared that a lot of designers had been working overtime to take the “frump” out of maternity clothes. They’d succeeded almost too well. The store appeared to be bursting with all kinds of merchandise.

  Some things were so pretty, Laurel noted, that they fairly took the sting out of being pregnant.

  Here goes nothing.

  She tried to return the blinding smile as she said, “I’m looking for some maternity clothes.”

  “Of course you are,” the just barely postpubescent salesgirl chirped. “Or else why would you even come in here?” She paused to giggle at her own words. High-pitched, Laurel rated it as easily one of the most annoying sounds she’d ever heard. “So, what size were you looking for?”

  Something in a pup tent, please. Laurel pressed her lips together. “I guess we could try a size six first.”

  “Oh, then she’s tiny, like me,” the salesgirl concluded.

  Laurel looked at her blankly. There wasn’t anyone else in the store with her. “‘She?’”

  The salesgirl nodded her head, her straight auburn hair moving from side to side. “The person you’re buying the clothes for. Your daughter?” she guessed brightly.

  This was a mistake, Laurel thought, glancing toward the entrance. Buying larger clothing was beginning to sound better and better.

  “No.”

  The salesgirl, whose name tag declared her name to be “Ginger,” cocked her head and squinted her eyes. “Well,” she finally said, her words dripping out slowly one after the other, “you look too young to have a pregnant granddaughter.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Laurel struggled to bank down her embarrassment. “Because the maternity clothes are for me.”

  The information clearly took the salesgirl by surprise. Her lips formed an almost perfect circle, but no sound initially came out. Finally, she managed to squeeze out a sentence. “They’re for you?”

  Laurel thought of simply hurrying out of the store, but she was getting angry. This little snip of a thing with the amoeba-size brain was judging her. “That’s what I said.”

  Ginger’s eyes grew rounder. She couldn’t seem to process what she was hearing.

  “Really,” Ginger breathed. It wasn’t so much a question as a stunned observation. Her eyes washed over her customer.

  Laurel drew herself up. “Really,” she echoed with all the dignity at her disposal.

  The young girl shook her head in uncensored wonder. And then she said something that turned everything around. “Well, I certainly admire you.”

  It wasn’t what she’d expected the girl to say. “And why would that be?” At this point, Laurel felt herself spoiling for a fight, something to release the aggressive feeling she was harboring.

  “Because it’s really brave to go after what you want and the hell with what everyone else thinks.”

  Laurel opened her mouth, ready to retort, to put down, to go straight for the jugular and then vivisect the salesgirl slowly with sharp words and cynicism. But in an odd sort of way, the girl had a point, Laurel realized. She was going through with this and saying the hell with what everyone else thought.

  Maybe she was being too thin-skinned and sensitive, Laurel decided. The salesgirl was smiling at her eagerly. Probably had the IQ of a shoelace, Laurel thought.

  “Okay, Ginger, I need a whole new wardrobe, so let’s get this show on the road.”

  Ginger looked so excited she seemed to be in danger of heart failure. Laurel could almost hear the sound of an old-fashioned cash register melodically going off as the salesgirl drew her over to the newest rack of clothing that had been brought in “just this morning.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Jason came home after six. Of late, he’d been keeping longer hours, divorcing himself from what was going on at home, from the fear that seemed to be waiting for him every time he did think about his wife’s pregnancy. Out of sight, out of mind. But at times, like tonight, guilt would corner him and he’d force himself to come home at a decent hour. He did love her, and that was just the problem. He didn’t want the change, the risk this baby represented.

  But he did miss Laurel.

  Calling out a greeting to her, he’d gone straight upstairs to shed the trappings of his career and put on more comfortable clothing. When he came back down a few minutes later, he went straight to the kitchen, led there by his nose and the tempting aroma of spaghetti sauce in the making.

  He found his wife there, putting the finishing touches on what he deemed to be one of his favorite meals. He found his spirit lifting with every step he took toward her.

  “I see you’ve gotten used to the idea of being pregnant.” The path into the master bedroom had been impeded by a bevy of shopping bags, all embossed with the logo of a baby popping out of a flowery oven.

  Laurel gave the parmesan-cheese container another hearty shake, sending a cream-colored snow storm into the gently simmering red sea. She stirred it until the creamy flurry had disappeared into the sauce.

  Glancing over her shoulder at him, she said, “No. Why?”

  He paused to open the refrigerator and take out a can of beer. After popping the top, he took a long drag of the amber liquid. He avoided looking at her so as to avoid any reminders of her condition.

  “Because I just saw a squadron of shopping bags filled with maternity clothes upstairs and I assume they didn’t come here by themselves. Did you buy out the store?” He took another long pull before returning the can back to its shelf and closing the refrigerator again.

  “I left the hangers,” she quipped, then spared him another glance. “It’s either that, or have you come bail me out of jail.”

  His dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Come again?”

  “For indecent exposure,” she elaborated as she reached for the cilantro. “That’s the term they use, isn’t it, when someone’s naked in public?” Giving the jar two good shakes, she put it back in its place.

  A flash of that old feeling came over him. I miss you, Laurie.

  Jason came up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he drew her to him. She could feel his chest against her back. There was something comforting about feeling him breathe. Jason kissed the top of her head affectionately.

  “Nothing indecent about your body.”

  “Obviously the man has not looked at me for quite a while,” she murmured to the pot she was still busy stirring. She had missed his admiring glances, she thought sadly, missed seeing that glint in his eyes.

  Releasing her, Jason stepped back and leaned a hip against the counter, watching her. “Yes I have. I distinctly remember sneaking a peek last Christmas Eve when you walked out of the shower.”

  Right, when she wasn’t pregnant, she thought sadly. “Very funny.” She took out a pac
kage of shredded mozzarella cheese from the refrigerator. Moving the zipper at the top of the package, she removed a handful of the cheese and drizzled it across the sauce. The shreds slowly sank into the surface, then became submerged. “Well, I’ve grown since then.” She dusted off her hands against each other. “A lot.”

  He looked unfazed by the information. “How many pounds in ‘a lot’?”

  If he thought she was going to volunteer the number, he didn’t know her at all. “That information I’m taking to my grave.”

  Jason laughed. He thought about taking another drag of his beer, then decided not to. Instead, he focused on his wife’s figure. “Know what I like about you being pregnant?”

  Still holding the plastic spoon she was stirring with, she turned around to look at him. “You like my being pregnant?” This was certainly news to her.

  He moved his shoulders in a half shrug. “It has its perks,” he admitted. Commandeering the spoon from her, he stole a lick. “Perfect,” he pronounced.

  Laurel took the spoon back and laid it on the spoon rest. “Never mind that.” She dismissed his culinary appraisal. “What perks?”

  The smile that came to his lips was positively wicked. She hadn’t recalled him looking like that in a long time. “Your breasts.”

  Laurel stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Your breasts,” he repeated. “They get very large when you’re pregnant.” He wiggled his fingers in the air, mimicking someone massaging something very large and round.

  She looked down at herself, as if she expected something to be different. But it wasn’t. She hated the way her breasts looked when she was pregnant. Like something that belonged to a matronly old woman. “They get like two large loaves of bread,” she complained.

  He grinned and moved his eyebrows up and down comically. “Who says that man cannot live on bread alone?”

  She sighed and shook her head. Turning her back on him, she picked up her ladle again. “You’re a typical male.”

  “And aren’t you glad about that?” he teased, nuzzling her neck.

  She felt a burst of desire zip along her skin. It wasn’t easy ignoring it. “All I know is that there would be a hell of a lot less pregnancies in the world if men were the ones who had to carry the babies the full nine months.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” he told her. Unzipping the bag of mozzarella she’d just used, he stole several strands of cheese and popped them into his mouth. “You got the hard part.”

  The spaghetti was boiling rapidly. She lowered the heat and stirred the noodles a couple of times. “It was awful,” she murmured.

  “I’m sure it was.”

  She turned around to face him. “You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “No, but I figure if I waited long enough—” he popped some more cheese into his mouth “—I’d catch on.”

  She blew out a breath, then took the cheese away from him and put it into the refrigerator before he completely spoiled his appetite. “I’m talking about the shopping trip.”

  He thought, by now, he knew her inside and out. Obviously he needed more lessons. “Since when don’t you like buying clothing?”

  “Since the ‘barely out of grade school’ salesgirl thought I was buying clothes for my daughter.” She drained the spaghetti in the colander and set it back into the pot to keep it warm.

  “Did you tell her we didn’t have a daughter?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “No, but it might have stopped her in her tracks,” he offered.

  Laurel tried again. “She thought I was buying clothes for my daughter,” she emphasized, saying the words through her teeth.

  “We already covered that. See?” he said brightly. “I’m listening.”

  Laurel rolled her eyes. “But obviously not hearing,” she countered.

  His expression was affable. “Give me another shot at it.”

  She reminded herself that men and women didn’t think the same way, didn’t take offense at the same things, and she should simply be happy he was home for dinner, that he was actually talking to her instead of responding in grunts. “She was telling me I was too old to have a baby.”

  “The hussy,” he declared, obviously seeing some humor in the situation that she had missed. “Did you show her your belly to prove her wrong?”

  Turning off the heat beneath the sauce, she frowned at him. “This isn’t funny, Jason.”

  “Humor is where you find it.” He took down two glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. “If she upset you so much, why’d you buy so many clothes from her? You could have gone somewhere else.”

  She paused for a moment, reluctant to admit what had motivated her. The telling trivialized the interaction somehow, when it hadn’t felt trivial at the time. “Because then she said she thought I was very brave, to go ahead and do what I wanted and the hell with everyone else.”

  Jason nodded, amused. “Nice save,” he commented.

  But Laurel shook her head. “She wasn’t bright enough for a save. Her mouth was connected directly to her brain. Whatever she thought came right out, no detours, no pauses.”

  “You are brave,” Jason told her, taking her into his arms again, taking her completely by surprise. “The bravest lady I know.”

  She grinned. “You’re only saying that because you’re hungry.”

  “That, and because I want to cop a feel later.” He pretended to leer at her. “Remember, big breasts turn me on.”

  She laughed and shook her head. You learned something every day. “You know, you never said anything about that before.”

  “I thought it was a given,” he said innocently. “I’m a male.”

  She leaned back against his arms. “Yes, so I noticed. That’s what got us into this problem in the first place.”

  “Takes two to tango, my dear.” He nuzzled her throat for a moment, drawing in her scent. He found it more arousing than spaghetti sauce. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Want to tango?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Now?”

  “That’s the general idea.”

  She glanced back at the pots on the stove. “I thought you said you were hungry.”

  “I can eat later,” he told her. “If I eat now, I might get drowsy. If I tango now, I’ll work up an appetite.” He pretended to leer at her. “In more ways than one.”

  “You’re serious.”

  He nodded, raising one hand while still holding her with the other. “I can take a blood oath.”

  She smiled, pleased but curious. “What’s gotten into you?”

  He shrugged, then took a stab at it. “Midlife crisis. Maybe I’m reliving all the other times you were pregnant.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe I’m just plain horny.”

  Amusement curved her mouth. “Or maybe all of the above?”

  “Maybe,” Jason answered, just before he kissed her.

  CHAPTER 17

  Jason made love to her, and with her, lyrically. Just the way he had years ago when the fire they felt was new and burned brightly.

  Laurel felt an excitement zipping through her veins, fairly screaming with anticipation, as her husband teasingly peeled away her clothing bit by bit. Tantalizing them both.

  He hadn’t been like this in a really long time, Laurel thought as she returned the favor and slowly separated Jason from his jeans and his pullover. It had been decades, maybe, she decided, drawing his belt out of its loops. Before the word “retirement” had become a regular part of his daily conversation.

  Ever since his first day on the job, Jason had made no secret of the fact that it had been his goal to retire. Early if possible.

  “Do things while I’m still young enough to enjoy doing them,” he’d told her over and over again.

  Back then, when they’d married, Jason had thought thirty was old. Well, he was thirty plus more than half that again and as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t old. She still saw him as the
stud she’d fallen in love with in college.

  A very hot stud, she thought as they both tumbled naked onto the bed.

  Now, with another baby on its way, Jason’s dreams of retirement were going to have to be put on the back burner. Way on the back burner. Certainly his dreams of an early retirement would have to be shelved.

  In her heart of hearts, Laurel had to admit she was secretly relieved about that. To her, “retirement” meant the act of retiring from life. In a nutshell, it meant surrendering to the approach of old age and just sitting around, waiting for the inevitable end to finally come. On her own, she would never even think about retiring. There was so much left to do, so much more of life to grab hold of. Retirement was inconceivable to her.

  However, she had fully expected Jason to hold the indefinite suspension of his almost lifelong dream against her. Certainly against the baby that was making all this a reality. It would go a long way to explaining why he’d all but abandoned her, coming home late, leaving early, ignoring her whenever she mentioned going to look for baby furniture.

  Yet suddenly, here he was, just the way he used to be. The Jason she knew and loved. Maybe he’d finally accepted the baby. Oh God, she hoped so. She’d been miserable without him. He was her best friend and she’d grown so accustomed to sharing everything with him. When he wasn’t here for her, the sting of betrayal was almost unbearable.

  Thank you, God. Please make this last.

  But even in the heat of lovemaking, or maybe because of it, Laurel couldn’t help wondering what had suddenly changed her husband’s mind. Or had it changed? Was it something else? Was he so deeply entrenched in denial that he had somehow managed to block out any and all thoughts about the baby’s eventual arrival?

  “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she heard herself asking, the question emerging in small, breathless gasps because Jason had succeeded in raising the temperature in their bedroom. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” he asked, while tracing a path between her breasts with his lips.