Last-Minute Marriage Page 21

  Caleb wasn’t about to be cheated of his say. “Now he’s going to think Tessa’s no better than his mother, sneaking off at the crack of dawn, shaking the dust of this town off her shoes and never looking back. Did she tell you she didn’t want Sam to know she was leaving?”

  “I told her not to tell him.”

  “Sometimes you’re a damn fool, boy.”

  “Sometimes I am.”

  A LATE-NOVEMBER OUTBREAK of flu had Annie Stevens’s waiting room packed to the rafters when Tessa arrived for her appointment. It was nearly noon before she got out of the clinic. The driving rain that had begun during the night had turned to something that more closely resembled sleet. Her last-minute packing and cleaning the small apartment had taken longer than she’d thought. She still had several boxes and sacks to load in the car, and already the afternoon had faded to twilight.

  She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her coat more tightly around her. Her feet felt as if they weighed a ton each. She could barely lift them. Her fingers felt clumsy and stiff. The skin was stretched tight across her knuckles. Dr. Stevens had all but forbidden her to leave Riverbend, but when Tessa had burst into tears at the suggestion she remain until the swelling in her hands and feet went down, the doctor had relented.

  But she had set conditions. Tessa was not to try to make it all the way to Callie’s in one marathon driving session, and she was to call the women’s clinic for an appointment the moment she set foot in her sister’s house. She’d agreed to each restriction, but had no intention of keeping at least one of them. Where would she find an empty motel room on Thanksgiving eve, the busiest travel holiday of the year? When she left Riverbend, she planned to drive nonstop to Albany.

  And she wanted to leave right now. Before Mitch got home from work. Before Sam got home from school. His early-morning visit had nearly broken her heart. He’d tried to be brave and grown-up, but his lower lip had trembled and she’d seen the heartache and disappointment in his blue eyes when she confirmed what Mitch had told him. “Yes, I need to be with my sister,” she’d said. “It’s scary having a baby all alone.”

  “I would have been an awesome big brother. I even thought of a name you might like. Laura Marie. Tyler says it sounds pretty. I like how it looks.”

  She’d dropped into a kitchen chair and pulled him into her arms. “Oh, Sam. It is a lovely name, and you say it beautifully.”

  He leaned back so that he could see her speak. “Will you come back someday so we can see the baby?”

  “I’ll try, Sam.”

  “Will you send me pictures?” He knew she wasn’t coming back. He’d already been conditioned by his mother to the kind of white lie she’d just told him.

  “I’ll send pictures every week. I promise. Cross my heart.”

  He nodded. He didn’t hug her back. He just turned around and left without another word. Just as Mitch had done. Caleb didn’t even stop to say goodbye. The Sterling men had joined ranks and shut her out, and she had no one to blame but herself.

  She put the last of her packages in the car and went back into the apartment to get her purse and the notes she’d written for Maggie and Lily. She’d post them on her way out of town. In the end she hadn’t even been able to reach Kate to say goodbye. She’d left a message on her machine at the store, including Ruth and Rachel in her halting message of explanation and thanks for their kindness and friendship the weeks she’d been in Riverbend.

  She was only a few miles out of town when the first weather bulletin broke into the oldies channel she’d picked only because it wasn’t WRBN. She’d deliberately left her radio off for the past few days. She didn’t want to hear Mitch’s voice advertising the store’s pre-Thanksgiving sale. She didn’t want to hear who’d had a baby and who had died. She didn’t want to know when Santa would be arriving at Killian’s in the town’s brand-new fire engine, or what the menu for the Thanksgiving buffet at the country club would be.

  Callie had told her they were getting a ton of snow in Albany when she’d called last night, but Tessa had assumed the roads would be cleared by the time she got there. What she hadn’t counted on was a big storm out of Canada heading her way. The farther she drove, the worse the details became.

  She listened in stunned silence. Cleveland airport was already socked in, stranding thousands of holiday travelers. Detroit and Toledo would be shutting down by midnight, due to ice on the runways. The storm was expected to be more moderate by the time it hit the Indiana border, but holiday travelers heading for Indianapolis and Chicago and points west should prepare for sleet and freezing rain, black ice and possible electrical outages caused by ice on power lines.

  She pulled her car off to the side of the road, laid her head on the steering wheel and wept. She couldn’t drive into that kind of weather. She was exhausted and woozy from too many nights without sleep. Her back ached constantly. She was going to have to go back at least as far as the motel out on the highway. But when she got there fifteen nerve-racking minutes later, the No Vacancy sign was prominently displayed. Travelers were getting off the highway right and left. The harried clerk had turned down three cars of stranded holiday travelers before she pulled in, he told her. There might be a room left at the River View Hotel in Riverbend. Did she know the way to town?

  She turned the car around and drove slowly back the way she’d just come. She didn’t have snow tires and the car fishtailed every time she stepped on the brakes. It was fully dark by the time she turned onto Main Street. The sidewalk in front of the hotel had been salted, but it was still treacherous with freezing rain that had glazed every surface in sight with a thin layer of ice. Tessa knew the moment she stepped into the River View there were no rooms available. People sat on the couch and chairs in the small narrow lobby. A young couple were camped out in sleeping bags against the wall. She had never seen the man behind the desk before.

  “Is there someplace I can spend the night?” she asked. Even if she had to sleep in her car in the park, she wouldn’t ask Mitch to let her back into the cottage.

  “We’re full up here,” the man said. “But they’ve opened the fellowship hall at the Community Church. I just sent a carload of people over there. It’s three blocks over, on Elm. They’re putting up cots and they have coffee and sandwiches. It beats getting stuck on the side of the road all night.”

  “Yes, it does. Thank you.” She turned and made her way carefully back to her car. Lynn Kendall’s church. She could stay there and leave as soon as the roads were clear tomorrow. With any luck Mitch would never know she was back in town.

  She’d be spending Thanksgiving Day in Riverbend, but she didn’t have much to be thankful about.

  LYNN KENDALL was helping a tired-looking young mother spread sheets and blankets over the thin mattress of a fold-up cot when Tessa arrived. Half-a-dozen ice-coated cars were parked in the church parking lot. Small groupings of more cots and folding chairs were scattered around the big low-ceilinged room. Luggage and pet containers were piled beside the beds. Fifteen or twenty people sat around talking, playing cards, listening to music on headphones or milling around the long tables set up in a row near the large pass-through window into the kitchen area.

  Reverend Kendall left the young mother and children she’d been helping. “Tessa? What are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Lynn. Do you have room for one more stranded traveler?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “It’s a long story.” Tessa felt she owed the minister some explanation. “I planned to leave Riverbend today to be with my sister. I didn’t realize the weather was so bad….” She shrugged helplessly, her eyes burning with tears she was too proud to let fall.

  With ministerial tact Lynn didn’t ask why she wasn’t going back to Mitch’s boathouse. Tessa knew it would be common knowledge around town that she wasn’t working at the hardware anymore, and that she hadn’t left town with her baby’s father. She didn’t care what they said about her. But for Mitch’s sake she hoped no one
linked her name with his after she was gone. “Yes, of course we have room. There’s a cot right over here where you can put your things. Do you have anything that needs to be refrigerated? Medication? Food?”

  Tessa shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Lynn pointed to an empty cot a few feet over from the ones she’d just been preparing. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ll be open until everyone can get back on the road to wherever they were going.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m holding down the fort almost single-handed right now. Anything you can do will be most appreciated.”

  “I’ll get my things put away and freshen up, and I’ll be right with you.” Her back and leg muscles were screaming for rest, but Tessa knew her mind would never allow her the oblivion of sleep. She might as well be doing something useful.

  “Take all the time you need. Have a sandwich. They’re from the Sunnyside. They’re bringing over more cold meat and cheese and milk for the little ones from the grocery later. Oh, and there’s coffee on the counter and soft drinks in the cooler by the table.”

  “I’ll find my way around the kitchen,” Tessa assured the young minister as Lynn hurried to the doorway to greet another trio of refugees from the storm.

  Three hours later Tessa finally got her sandwich. By then she was almost too tired to eat. The two-year-old girl on the next cot was fussing while Tessa took off her coat and folded it over the end of her bed. She’d laid her purse beside it and looked around for the ladies’ room. Just as she’d spotted it at the far end of the hall, the little girl had let out a moan and vomited all over the cot and her older brother’s shoes.

  Tessa had taken the little boy to the bathroom to wipe off his shoes. Then she’d helped the beleaguered young mother change the sheets on the cot and find another blanket, a softer one, from the storage room behind the kitchen. By the time they had made the bed, found some Tylenol for the girl’s fever and got both little ones settled on their cots, ten more people had arrived to take shelter in the church hall, and a fresh delivery of food arrived from the grocery.

  Tessa had made sandwiches and coffee until everyone was fed, leaving the kitchen only long enough to call Callie and tell her the storm had forced her to turn back. The sleet continued, and the radio started reporting power outages here and there around town. She was sitting at a table, staring into her cup of lukewarm apple juice and wondering how fast it could take to catch a stomach virus, when Reverend Lynn’s fiancé, Tom Baines, came by.

  “You look beat, Tessa,” he said. “Why don’t you take a break after you finish your sandwich?”

  “Thanks. I think I will. Do you expect many more people?” she asked, pushing her hair behind her ears. She decided she should make some more sandwiches before she went to her cot. She was so stiff and aching that she was afraid if she lay down, she wouldn’t be able to get up again. She picked up a knife and a jar of peanut butter, but when she reached for a loaf of bread, Tom took it away from her.

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “The rush seems to be over. I doubt anyone’s still out on the road. It’s almost eleven.”

  “I didn’t realize it was so late.” Tessa wasn’t wearing a watch, and there wasn’t a clock in the church hall. No wonder she was tired. It had been a long day.

  “Go get some rest, Tessa. You’ve got a baby to think about, you know.” He pulled her chair back and she put her hand on the table to help herself stand. A sharp pain arced across her back and around to her middle. Tessa gasped with the force of it. “Are you okay?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. Just have a stitch in my side.” Her words sounded breathless and thready even to her own ears. Tom was watching with concern in his eyes.

  “If you need anything, give me a call,” he said in a tone that made it an order, not a request.

  She nodded and watched as he headed for the kitchen. Then she dragged herself to the ladies’ room and over to her cot. The mother and her two little ones were all asleep. The little girl hadn’t thrown up again. Maybe it had just been the excitement and anxiety of being stranded in a strange place.

  Tessa lay down, but her mind refused to shut down in sleep. Someone on the other side of the room was snoring. A knife clattered in the kitchen and Tom growled a muffled curse. She heard Lynn scold softly and then laugh. The only light came from the kitchen and the streetlamps through the windows where the curtains didn’t quite meet. She closed her eyes and eventually, amazingly, fell asleep.

  The dull ache in the small of her back grew in intensity. Tessa awoke to pitch-blackness. For a moment she lay quietly, panting through the steadily increasing pain across her middle, fighting confusion. She’d been dreaming about Mitch, the sadness in his eyes, the tightness of his mouth as he’d turned and walked away from her, leaving her to face the sterility of her lonely life.

  She lifted her hand to her face. Her cheeks were wet. She’d been crying in her sleep. Was that what had woken her? She heard others stir around her and remembered where she was. The Community Church hall. The storm. And now, it seemed, the lights had gone out.

  She sat up. The little ones on the cot next to her still slept. Their mother was awake, though. Tessa could hear her fumbling in the dark to see if her children were still covered. The room was cold. Tessa shivered, and another sharp pain tightened around her middle. False labor, she told herself. She’d read about it in the booklets that Annie Stevens had given her so that she would have a better understanding of the process of childbirth. Surely that was all it was. It was more than three weeks until her due date.

  “What happened to the streetlights?” the young woman beside her whispered. Tessa tried to recall her name but couldn’t.

  “The storm must have brought down a power line or something.”

  “It’s cold in here.”

  Tessa swung her feet over the side of the cot. She’d been so tired she hadn’t even bothered to take off her shoes. Now she was glad. It would have been hard to find them in the darkness.

  A flashlight beam pierced that darkness. Lynn Kendall’s voice came from behind it. “Tessa? Are you awake?”

  “Yes, Lynn. What happened to the lights?”

  “They’ve been out for about an hour.”

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

  “Almost six. It will be daylight soon, thank the Lord.”

  Tessa had slept longer than she thought. She felt as if she’d barely closed her eyes.

  “Ethan Staver stopped by a little while ago,” Lynn continued. “It’s the transformer on the main line south of town. It’s going to be a while before they fix it. Mitch is bringing over a generator from the hardware. Ethan says we’ll probably be getting townspeople coming to the shelter now, too. They’re going to start announcing it over the radio. Ruth and Rachel and some other members of the church will be coming in as soon as it’s daylight. They’re bringing food. Turkeys. Pies. The works. We’re going to cook them here. Thankfully we have a gas range.”

  A little voice in Tessa’s head kept talking over Lynn, getting louder, shriller and more insistent. Mitch was on his way to the church. She had to be gone before he got there.

  “Tessa, are you all right?” Lynn whispered so as not to wake those sleeping nearby. She shone the flashlight beam full in her face. Tessa closed her eyes, as much against the new onslaught of pain as the bright light.

  “I’m fine. Just a contraction. Braxton-Hicks, aren’t they called?” She was whispering, too. But she doubted she could have spoken any more forcefully at the moment if she wanted to. It wasn’t a lie. She really was having contractions, strong ones.

  “You mean false labor? I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been pregnant.” Tessa couldn’t quite see the other woman’s face in detail, but she could hear the worry in her voice.

  “Dr. Stevens said to start expecting them. I’ll just lie back down. They should pass in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” Lynn said. “I’ll go back
into the kitchen and wait for Mitch and Tom to get here with the generator.” She turned away.

  “Lynn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do me a favor.”

  “If I can.”

  “Please don’t tell Mitch I’m here. And ask Tom to do the same.”

  SAM AWOKE in the pitch-darkness. What had happened to his night-light? To his clock? He sat up, his heart pounding. He hated being in the dark. He couldn’t tell what was going on around him when he couldn’t see. He sat up straighter and tried not to be scared. The power was out. That was all. He knew there was a storm. Ice or wind must have downed the power lines. Too bad it wasn’t a schoolday.

  He felt around for the flashlight he’d put on his bedside table and turned it on. It worked. Just barely. He hadn’t changed the batteries for a long time. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and raced to the window. The floor was freezing. There was ice on the window, but only at the bottom. He shone the beam out into the yard, toward the boathouse. The driveway was empty. Nothing there but his dad’s truck. His prayers hadn’t been answered. Tessa hadn’t come back.

  The reflection of another flashlight beam alerted him that his dad was awake and coming to his room. “I’m over here,” he said, switching his own light back on as he turned toward the door. His dad was dressed to go out, he noticed.

  “I didn’t think you’d be awake.” Mitch held the flashlight under his chin so Sam could read his lips.

  “It’s too dark to sleep.”

  He could see his dad’s lips stretch in a smile. “Yeah. I thought that might be the case. Chief Staver was just here. I’m going to the store to get a generator for the church hall. Reverend Lynn has a bunch of stranded people there, and they don’t have any lights, either.”

  “What time is it?” It seemed like the middle of the night it was so dark.

  “Almost six. Granddad’s got a fire going in the fireplace, and there’s still hot water, so you can get washed up.”