Falling for the Mom-to-Be Read online

“Point taken.”

  “It’s not as if I was chanting or anything.”

  “Now you’re just grasping at straws.”

  “Sorry. I really didn’t want to hurt you. Forgive me.” The truth was, since her mother had died, he was the last person on Earth she ever wanted to hurt. “I know you’re the kind of man who honors the tasks he gets assigned, even if things get tough. That when you feel committed to something, you see it through.”

  “That’s right. When I start something I want to go all the way with it.” He gave her a strange look, and she could have sworn she’d hit on something far more personal between them than a town protest. Now that she’d finally admitted what she wanted to her mother, would he be committed to seeing things through with her, too?

  “That music got on my nerves,” he said, watching the twists and turns of the winding road.

  “And you’re machinery got on their nerves.”

  He loosened up a bit, cracked a smile. “Good.”

  There wasn’t any need to talk or argue anymore. The event was over, so they lapsed into silence again. It was reassuring to know that Leif was the kind of man who liked to finish what he started. Even though, theoretically, she’d been the one to start everything between them.

  “I saw your mother’s bench again today.” She’d skip the part about talking to her own mother for now.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, see, I didn’t stay with the group the whole time. I sketched.” She flipped through her pad as proof. “And I took a long walk. It’s so beautiful. You did an incredible job.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her heart swelled with feelings and she wanted him to know some of them. “You’re a loyal man. Your family must have been very proud of you.”

  “You didn’t know me when I was a teenager.”

  “Same here. We probably would’ve hated each other.”

  “I find that hard to believe. On my end anyway.” He dropped hint after hint about her, yet didn’t bring up the subject she wanted most to have a conversation about—where they stood. Where did they stand? “Though you would have been way too young for me then.”

  “I was speaking theoretically. Anyway, if you hadn’t built the college and decided to have someone paint a mural—” and if I’d never gotten pregnant “—we would never have met.”

  “Pretty damn good decision on my part, wouldn’t you say?”

  She smiled and touched his arm; the sexual spark between them never faltered. “Outstanding.”

  After a quick shared smile, all seeming forgiven and glances promising more to come, things grew quiet again. It was clear he wasn’t ready to talk about “them.” Not now, after a taxing day dealing with ancient spirits and chanting protestors and new girlfriends standing with the wrong side.

  But there was too much on Marta’s mind to keep quiet, so it took all her strength to do so. She’d cut Leif a break for now and change the subject. She could push the man only so far.

  She turned toward him, curiosity taking over her thoughts. “What did you find out?”

  He chewed his lower lip in thought, then turned his head to her. “That no mystery trunk is worth disrupting a town or a cemetery over.” Then immediately he looked back to the winding road.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m telling the committee when we meet tomorrow night that I found a dense deposit of bones, which I did.” He stared straight ahead.

  “And?”

  “There may have been a trunk somewhere around there, too, but since I funded the study, I decided not to go blindly hunting for it, to leave things as they are in respect of the grounds. I won’t mention that part—” he pinned her with flashing eyes “—and I hope you won’t, either.”

  Subject closed. He didn’t find a trunk, yet he hadn’t really tried to find it once he’d discovered the bones. He trusted her with his secret. Now she knew more than ever he was an honorable man willing to do whatever was necessary for the greater good of his town. His study would be inconclusive for a pirate trunk.

  He continued to drive, and Marta had yet another reason to love and admire the man. She turned her head and, looking out the window, smiled.

  *

  That night, while Leif showered and cleaned up, Marta made a simple meal of scrambled eggs with diced vegetables and cheese, toast and fruit, thinking how domestic she was and smiling the whole time. Leif had put an entirely new spin on the phrase mi casa es su casa. She felt completely at home here.

  During dinner, choosing to talk about the family bench she’d visited instead of the elephant in the room—the digging at the burial ground—she got a phone call. Seeing who it was, she excused herself and went into the living room to take it. Leif watched her as Chip and Dale followed.

  “Marta, it’s Manny. How are you?”

  Manuel Ortega was the Sedona historian and local quirky TV personality, his specialty being interview vignettes. The town joked and called him the Hispanic version of PBS’s Huell Howser, one man with a cameraman and a hand microphone out to discover the state. Ask a question into the mic, then push it into the interviewee’s face for an answer, over and over and over. Old school and loads of fun.

  “I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve heard about the mural you’re painting for Heartlandia, and I want to bring a film crew to interview you.”

  “Wow, that’s a surprise.” She’d get to be the one under the spotlight?

  “I thought it would be a great angle to be there for the finish. Is anything planned with the city? An unveiling?”

  “Good question.” She gave a nervous laugh, realizing she didn’t have a clue if anything was planned or not. “I mean, I am almost finished, but I don’t know about an unveiling or anything.”

  “Would next week be too soon to come?”

  “No. I don’t see why not. I’ve only got one last scene to paint and plan to start that tomorrow.”

  *

  Leif hadn’t tried to listen in to Marta’s conversation, and it wasn’t as though she was hiding anything from him, but she’d started pacing in the other room and one sentence stood out as she passed the large arch separating the living room from the dining room.

  “I’ve only got one last scene to paint.”

  That certainly hit home. She was almost finished with the mural and would be returning to Sedona sooner than he’d expected. He fought back a spark of panic.

  She’d laid down the rules for their relationship—no strings. Yet here he sat, all tangled up in strings since letting go and getting involved with her. Up until now he figured if she’d made the guidelines, she’d have to be the one to change them, but maybe it was time to confront her, see where they stood and if she was anywhere close to feeling the way he did. If so, it was time to come up with some new plans.

  The thought of confronting her scared the living daylights out of him. What in the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t even consider changing anything until he was ready to admit he loved her. Did he love her? If he wasn’t ready to admit he loved her, how would he be able to open his heart to her child? And even if he was ready to admit his love, would he be ready to be an automatic parent? Hell, could he even be a good enough parent for her baby?

  Once upon a time, Ellen had believed he’d make a great father. Back then he’d believed it, too, but he was a lot older now.

  Standing, he paced, too, his mind spinning with thoughts like plates on poles, but he disguised it by clearing the dishes from the table.

  Calm down. He didn’t even know if Marta had feelings anywhere near the same as him. She’d made the rules and, as far as he could tell, didn’t have any plans to change them. At least she hadn’t given him any indication in that regard.

  Based on one single sentence indicating the project was almost done, his thoughts had launched out of control. He needed to get a grip, and more important, he needed to talk to someone who might know and understand how he was feeling.

&nbs
p; One guy came to mind, a man who’d been through the ringer during and after his divorce. The good doctor, Kent Larson.

  He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Kent’s number. Before Marta ended her call, he’d already made plans to have breakfast with Kent.

  “You won’t believe what just happened,” she said, rushing into the kitchen to help dry the dishes he’d been washing like a madman. She didn’t wait for his response. “My hometown TV station is going to come and film me finishing the mural. This will be great promo for my art studio and store.”

  She looked flushed and excited, and Leif’s heart sank a little because she also seemed to already have one foot, emotionally speaking, out the door.

  Maybe he’d waited too long to tell her how he felt and had already blown it. “That’s wonderful. When are they coming?” He fudged his way through his response, doing his best to appear excited for her good fortune. He didn’t want to put a damper on her moment to shine.

  “Next week.”

  “Great.” Of course he was happy that she was getting some exposure in the media—he wanted her to be successful in her career—but it was the personal part, the going-back-home part—the leaving-him-behind part—that ached like a kick to the solar plexus.

  *

  The next morning at seven-thirty Leif met up with Kent at the Hartalanda Café in the center of town. Kent was dressed in slacks, shirt and tie for work at his medical clinic. They grabbed a table by the window and ordered coffee right off.

  “What’s up?” Kent got right to the point.

  “I need some perspective and you seem like the right man to give it to me.”

  “Then I hope I can help.”

  The waitress brought mugs of hot coffee and took their orders, and Leif sampled the brew before laying his concerns on the line.

  “So I’ve fallen for Marta.” He shrugged off the mega confession. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. She’s an incredible woman, and, well, I need some advice.”

  A lazy smile stretched across Kent’s face. “Sounds as though it might be too late for advice.”

  Leif looked briefly at the ceiling, a sad, halfhearted laugh rolling out of his mouth. “Isn’t that the truth?” He put his mug down and played with his fork. “How did you do it? I mean, after your wife left and you met Desi. How did you have the guts to just go for it again?”

  It was Kent’s turn to give the rueful laugh. “I didn’t. Desi got that bright idea, and I resisted from the get-go.”

  “See, that’s why I knew you’d understand.”

  “My advice is don’t be a fool and drag your feet like I did. If you’re thinking Marta is a woman you want to be with, go for it.”

  Leif felt a sheepish expression form on his face. “The thing is, I already have fallen for her, and I’m not sure she’s in the same place I am. I mean, she’s the first woman I’ve been with since Ellen, and maybe I got too wrapped up with her or something. Maybe I misunderstood her signals. How can you tell when a lady is into you?”

  Kent sat back in his chair as the waitress brought their breakfasts with a benign smile. “Question of the century.”

  Leif didn’t feel particularly hungry, but he made an unenthusiastic attempt to shovel in some pancakes and bacon. “Like I said, she’s incredible, and I can’t imagine…well, the way we are when we’re together…” He put down his fork. “What I mean is, she can’t be faking it. You know?”

  Kent had his doctor face on. “You’ve got it bad. Have you told her?”

  “Hell no. I’ve been out of the dating world for so long, I don’t know how things work these days. Besides, she seems like such a modern woman, whatever that is.”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Kent said after smirking. “I know exactly how you feel. Felt the same way. The thing is, Desi was very persistent and, well, I’m a red-blooded guy, so…”

  “Yeah, that’s not the problem. It’s the next part. The ‘letting her know how I feel’ part.”

  “Don’t do what I did and come off all overbearing and completely unperceptive.”

  “So how did you find out if she loved you?”

  “I tested the waters. Talked about how good we’d be as a couple. How much Steven adored her. That kind of thing. Eventually, she got the point and came around.”

  “Desi was going to leave town, too, wasn’t she?”

  “That’s what I thought. Turns out she was just waiting for an invitation to stay.”

  Now, that made sense. Why should Marta stick around if she hadn’t been invited and she had a place to go home to? How dense had Leif become during his hibernation?

  Leif ate more of his pancakes, thinking about a way to first test the waters with Marta before laying it all out there. Their situation was different from Kent and Desi’s because Marta was pregnant. Wait! That’s the test. The father of her baby hadn’t taken any interest. What if Leif told her his honest thoughts about her pregnancy? That he welcomed it. That he’d always wanted a big family. Maybe then he could win her trust and open the door to a long-term relationship. Or maybe he’d better start by just opening the door, see how she responded to that, then move on to the pregnancy.

  “Thanks, man. You’ve helped me put some things into perspective.”

  “From the look on your face, you seem miserable.” Kent had cleaned his plate and topped it off with a long draw from his mug of coffee. “Just let me say that opening up to love again isn’t a death sentence. What I found out was it was a ticket back to life. Don’t know what I’d do without Desi. Wait. Yes I do, I’d still be a shell. Lonely and miserable.”

  Leif nodded and took another drink of coffee. He could completely relate to being a shell of a man. It had been his MO ever since Ellen had died.

  *

  That night, Leif intended to make sure the committee meeting was short and sweet.

  “Before we get started, I have a quick question,” he said. “Are there any plans for an unveiling when the mural is finished?” Which it almost was. Even before he’d built the outer protection for the walls, he’d known she needed something better than ordinary ladders, so he’d loaned her a smaller-scale ladder scaffold, which essentially blocked out whichever part of the mural she worked on. Marta had told him she’d taken to leaving the finished portions of the walls behind the barrier he’d built, which hid the entire view, but he knew the mural was just about complete.

  Elke spoke right up. “Yes. I’ve been working with the school administration and head of the art department. We plan a reveal for the college students first, then we’ll open it up for a public walk-by. We’re just waiting for Marta to give us a tentative date.”

  “Good. And I assume the newspaper will cover that.”

  “Oh, you bet. This is a first, and we’re all thrilled with what we’ve seen so far.”

  For some crazy reason, hearing Elke’s enthusiasm made pride well up inside Leif for Marta’s accomplishments, even though theoretically he’d only played a small role by sponsoring the project.

  “Okay, then, great. I guess we can get on with the purpose of the meeting.” He glanced around the table at the six sets of eyes watching him and waiting for his report.

  “Here are some of the pictures I snapped with the industrial fiber-optic scope.” He took them from the folder and passed them around the table like show and tell. “The white areas are bones. Piles and piles of bones. Elke has examined the photographs and agrees that they prove this area was truly a burial ground. Evidently those bones are what we originally found with the thermography study.” He produced a copy of the original map and another of the burial ground, then used a pencil to point to the area being discussed. “Nathaniel Prince’s handmade map seemed to point to the same spot, right here, yet this is what we discovered. Now, we could explore other nearby areas, even though there wasn’t any indication of anything else in this vicinity under thermography, but it would be a crapshoot and would probably be futile. Oh, and it would really tick off
a lot of people, as we’ve already found out.”

  Leif knew he would be preaching to the choir for half of the group with his next comment, so he concentrated on the small business and Maritime Museum representatives on the committee. “At the risk of digging wider and deeper without strong evidence for finding anything based on the thermography report and upsetting almost half of the town, I move that we suspend further investigation.”

  Silence fell over the room, and a few pairs of eyes squinted and re-examined the round photographs as seen through a three-centimeter industrial, fiber-optic camera. After a few more minutes of passing around the results and quiet mutterings, Gerda Rask suggested the committee take another vote.

  *

  When he got home that night Marta wasn’t there and the house felt cold and drab. He speed-dialed her cell phone.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Hey, I was wondering if I should fix a late dinner.”

  “Actually, I’m with Lilly and Desi and we’re in Astoria at their crafter’s market. We already ate here.”

  “Okay.” A pang of disappointment drew his attention. “Sounds good.” Astoria was the next town over and was noted for the big weekly farmer and crafter market. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

  “Most definitely.”

  Her enthusiastic response took the edge off his original reaction, and he ended the call with a smile.

  Chip and Dale needed feeding and a walk, so he had things to keep him busy, but when he came back into the house and ate soup from a can and cheese toast, the empty house felt way too big. How the hell had he lived here by himself for so many years? Did he really want to ever do that again?

  He went upstairs, and because the door to the studio was open and he missed Marta filling up his house with life and her freewheeling spirit, he walked inside. How would the room, overflowing with supplies and paint, feel after she left?

  A trickle of anxiety worked its way up his spine. He didn’t want to think about it. Not yet.

  There was an easel facing the largest window and he walked around to see what she’d been painting, other than the mural. His jaw dropped. It was a half-finished portrait of him, smiling like he couldn’t remember doing in years—only since Marta had come into his life had he started up again. Chip and Dale were sketched in the background, waiting their turn to be made immortal. A small photograph was tacked to the wood of the easel. It was him, on the day when he’d first taken her to the Ringmuren, the day he’d also shown her his mother’s memorial bench.