Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

Chapter Ten

Rachel drove to the print shop the next morning feeling surprisingly rejuvenated. She’d dropped off to sleep as soon as David had left, and their dinner together had been … enjoyable. Almost relaxed, as if, with the strain of holding their marriage together lifted, they could just be themselves. In some ways, having the worst happen could be liberating. They’d agreed that he should take over the pet-sitting, but she’d been too tired to switch places with him last night.

Tonight she’d go home. She still had mixed feelings about that, but she’d cope. She was already dealing with separating from David, the—happy—shock of being pregnant and compiling a mental list of the decisions she’d need to start making for herself and the baby. None of it was easy, but it wasn’t impossible, either.

“Morning, May,” she called when she walked into work.

Her boss waved her own hello over a mug of coffee. “Miss Popularity! You’ve already had two phone calls this morning.”

“You’re kidding. Who from?”

“Both from Gina Oster, at the chamber of commerce. Belle showed her some of the recommendations you made for future Christmas brochures, and they want to talk to you about some projects for the spring.” May grinned. “You’re not thinking of leaving me for greener pastures, are you?”

“Don’t worry. I doubt a chamber the size of ours can afford much green,” Rachel said realistically. “But I can talk to them about some cheap independent contracting on the side.” She found herself really eager to return Gina’s call. While Rachel didn’t see the chamber as being a career move for her, it was exciting to think about ways she could use her talents to give back to the town. Mistletoe had given her so much.

“Well, Gina’s in meetings until this afternoon. That’s why she was trying to reach you so early, but if you can help them get organized, I think it’s a wonderful idea. You’ve been such an asset to me.”

Rachel was touched by the warm sincerity in the woman’s voice. “Thank you.”

She’d spent so much time lately feeling underutilized in her current career that she’d lost sight of how lucky she was. She worked for a nice person she genuinely liked, she didn’t have to wear panty hose and she wasn’t bogged down in meetings and corporate bureaucracy. And on particularly busy days, she helped balance a workload no person could manage alone.

It shaped up to be one of those days. They printed a last-minute batch of flyers for the Winter Wonderland dance that would go up all over town, farmed out a rush order for some customized baseball caps, then printed and bound a series of booklets for an upcoming business retreat. She thought about the hiking vacation she’d taken here, the lodge that was just outside town and more rustic than the popular Mistletoe Inn. The chamber of commerce should do more to play up their appeal as a place to “come get away from it all … without having to go too far” for businessmen and even vacationing tourists.

Mistletoe, a great place to bring the family. A great place to raise a family.

“Well, you’re in a good mood.”

She jumped about a foot, then turned to see David. Nonemployees weren’t allowed behind the counter where all the equipment was kept, but May would have made an exception to wave him back. “I thought I was alone. Just me and the forty booklets I promised to assemble by lunch.”

David shoved his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t mean to startle you. In fact, I would have been happy just to stand here and watch.”

“Watch me collate booklets? Make sure you stick around for the exciting encore of watching paint dry in the storeroom.”

He laughed. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re way more interesting than paint.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You had a graceful rhythm going, complete with intermittent musical accompaniment. What were you whistling?” he asked.

“I was whistling? I was just … thinking about family.”

His gaze went instantly to her tummy then came back up to meet hers. “Excited about junior?”

“Giddy,” she agreed. “But not just about that. I was sort of counting my blessings.”

It wasn’t until he looked away that she saw how hurtful her words might be. Was it unseemly to seem so cheerfully content in front of the husband you’d recently left? She was content, though. For the first time in a long time, she was starting to believe that she’d be all right no matter what. That she could survive disappointments and missteps and pick herself up afterward. It was an empowering realization.

“Well,” he said quickly. “I just came by to get Winnie’s key.”

“Right.” Her duffel bags were packed and in the trunk of her car. She’d still feel better if she could talk with Winnie about it first, but shore-to-ship communications were spotty at best. She went to her purse and grabbed the bone-shaped key ring. “Here you go. If the dogs give you any trouble or you can’t find Arpeggio—”

With a wicked grin, David cut her off. “I’ve got it all under control. If I do have any problems, I know where to find you.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at the role reversal. “Of course you’re completely competent. I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling.” He leaned forward, surprising her with a quick kiss on her cheek. “Pick you up Saturday?” It really didn’t make sense for them to drive separately to Lilah’s duplex just to pile into Tanner’s car once they arrived.

Rachel nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.” She really was, not only to the fun of shopping and laughing with Lilah, but to being in David’s company again soon.

Which meant either she and David were the most mature, well-adjusted couple ever to split or that her romantic feelings for her husband hadn’t cooled nearly as much as she’d let herself believe.

WALKING into the house was like taking a one-way trip to Rachel’s past. She set her keys on the dented antique table in the front hall—they’d bought it for a great price at this little flea market because of scratches on the surface. David had wanted to restore it, but she liked the imperfections, thought they provided more character than a glossy veneer could. The silence echoed around her, unnatural. Had it always been so quiet here? She’d grown accustomed to the considerable background noise at Winnie’s house. Here, there were no animals, only wall-to-wall memories.

She slid out of her shoes and went straight to the kitchen. Despite grappling with nausea these days, she was starving. Some men living on their own might have cupboards devoid of anything but basic guy staples, but the refrigerator boasted a huge selection of produce, marinated chicken breasts, organic eggs, three types of fruit juice and a nearly full gallon of milk. The freezer was also stocked with an array of choices. She made herself a three-egg omelet with mushrooms, cheese, peppers, broccoli florets and a side of whole-grain toast. Afterward, when she was pleasantly stuffed, she decided she should work on the scrapbook she and Ari planned to give Lilah and Tanner at their rehearsal dinner.

It had been Arianne’s idea, although Rachel freely admitted that not only did her sister-in-law take lousy pictures—half of which included her thumb over the lens—she was no good at arranging them artfully. “You have an eye for these things,” Ari had wheedled.

“In other words, you’re hoping I’ll do all the work,” Rachel had translated with a laugh.

“In a nutshell.”

With Quinn’s help, the two of them had been surreptitiously gathering pictures from half the people in town. Rachel would be shocked if Lilah and Tanner hadn’t caught wind of it yet. Mistletonians weren’t known for their ability to keep secrets. Rachel had an assortment of childhood pictures, sweetheart photos from when the couple had first dated back in high school, individual milestone shots, such as college graduations and Lilah’s first day teaching, and more recent mementos from the previous year, when they’d rekindled their romance. Even though Rachel had been happy to help with the project, she’d been procrastinating. Laying out a visual representation of another couple’s romance while her own was in decline had been difficult.

Now just the opposite was happening. Sure, there was a melancholy twinge when she looked at the timeline of Lilah and Tanner’s love spread out across her coffee table, but staring at their memories, she was also caught up in her own. Good ones. As she cut and glued and sorted through her collection of stamps and die-cut embellishments, she found herself unconsciously whistling again. She paused, replaying the melody in her mind to figure out what it was.

“Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head.”

Just as she was debating turning on the radio versus the television for background noise, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” David said. “I just wanted to let you know there’s a rerun of Lost on TV tonight.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.”

“It’s a repeat, but I’m pretty sure it’s that one you missed last fall.”

Because she’d misprogrammed the VCR, she remembered, taping an hour’s worth of some completely random channel. “That’s sweet, David, but I caught that episode. Watched it online.”

There was a pause. “You saw it without me?” They’d watched the show together from the very first episode, speculating during commercials, each having different theories about where the storylines were going and how to tell when Ben was lying (when his lips were moving).

“Sorry,” she said, meaning it. Funny with everything that each of them could legitimately regret about their relationship how bad she suddenly felt about watching an hour of television alone. “You haven’t seen it?”

“No. It’s on in about ten minutes. I was planning to get the dogs settled and sit down with a sandwich for dinner.”

“I’ll turn it on, too,” she decided. “You know how that show is. There are always clues you miss the first time around.”

Once they got off the phone, she got the remote control out of the side pocket of David’s recliner and found the right channel. During the second commercial break, David called to ask her if the episode was going to conclude the way he thought—it wasn’t—and then laughingly argued with her when she refused to tell him how it did end.