“Stop it,” she cries, pretending to swat my hand away. “Wally Young is a fine name. Isn’t that right, little one?”
And as if on cue, the baby kicks again.
“It seems like I’m already outnumbered in this family,” I groan in mock protest.
“You got that right,” Ivy agrees as I place my ear against her baby bump, fascinated by the life growing inside of her.
“We’re going to make it,” I say with fierce determination as I look up at her. “All of us are going to make it.”
She nods at me in encouragement, biting her lip to keep her tears at bay. She runs her fingers through my hair like she’s trying to block out the danger that lies ahead. The uncertainty. The fear. The risk.
Ivy might not be here with me by the time spring rolls around. We might never get married. Our baby might never be born. But we can’t think about that now. We have to stay focused on the positive, just like my grandpa would. He wouldn’t let this drag him down. Instead, he’d cherish every moment with the woman he loved.
And I intend to do the same.
Chapter Thirteen
Ivy
It’s nearly a week later and I’m still basking in the post-engagement buzz.
I push my shopping cart down the Valu-Mart aisle, humming along to the love song playing above my head. It’s the day before Thanksgiving and I think that’s the only reason Eric let me run to the store without him. Things are still pretty tense between him and his dad, so we’re going to prepare our own meal tomorrow instead of going over to his parents’ house like we planned. Besides, Eric is super busy getting ready for Friday, the official kickoff of the Christmas tree season at Riverside Gardens. For the next two days, Eric and Ben will be hauling trees from the field and setting them up in the outdoor display area. But despite everything that’s going on, Eric made sure that I didn’t come here unattended. In need of Ben’s muscle, he convinced Will to be my chauffeur instead.
I have to say that it’s been interesting having Will in the cabin along with us, especially since we all have to share one bathroom. Sometimes I think my bladder is going to burst by the time Will gets done styling his hair. Living together in such tight quarters is trying everyone’s patience. So when Will asked to take a cigarette break while I shopped, I leapt at the opportunity, promising not to place the twenty-pound turkey in the cart until he came back.
I grip the handlebar and smile when my ring catches the light. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at it. Eric said that, while he doesn’t plan on taking me on a hundred dates before we say, “I do,” he does intend on following in his grandfather’s footsteps. He already has something up his sleeve for a Saturday night in the near future, but he won’t even give me a hint as to what he has in store, and the anticipation is killing me.
A few people I recognize from around town nod at me as I stroll by. The general attitude toward me seems to have changed since word got out about my condition. Everyone’s been a whole lot friendlier. I detect a definite thaw in the amount of hostility aimed in my direction. It appears they’ve forgiven me for stealing Eric out from under Lauren’s nose. Now I’m the victim. And who can resist rooting for the underdog? They probably don’t expect me to survive, so maybe they feel they might as well be nice to me now.
I chuckle to myself over my morbid sense of humor, causing an elderly woman nearby to glance at me oddly. To put her at ease, I remove one of the plastic produce bags from the dispenser and hand it to her. She thanks me more out of a sense of obligation than gratitude before scurrying away to the turnip bin. Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever feel at home in this town. I’m not one of them. I’ll always be on the outside looking in.
I examine the stalks of celery in the refrigerated case, my mind drifting. Maybe my child will have a better chance of fitting in among these people. Wally—or Natalie—is going to be born here. Eric’s a businessman in the community. He’s lived here all his life, as have his parents and his grandparents before them. This is where his roots are. Any child of his will have to belong. They’ll have to. I don’t want my child to be made to feel the way I have. It would break my heart.
I start to push the cart around the corner when my blood runs cold.
“Well, if it isn’t our resident damsel in distress, out and about in the middle of the day. I know I must be seeing things…because I could’ve sworn she agreed to remain chained behind a laptop at a certain someone’s farmhouse for the remainder of her pregnancy.”
I don’t move a muscle. The sound of Lauren’s voice instantly paralyzes me like it has some hypnotic power over my body. The second I hear it, I lose every shred of self-confidence and start to quake with fear.