Christmas in Cupid Falls (16 page)

Those were all reasons for her to be sure he’d be a good father. She wasn’t sure how she’d ever believed that he would walk away from his child. She’d been selfish. Something Mal wasn’t.

Oh, he was busy and distracted sometimes, but he wasn’t selfish.

“I’m going to change the subject now,” he informed her.

She sighed. “So we’re not done talking? Do you want to come in where it’s warm to change the subject?”

“No. I want to point out that this was our first date, and as suc
h . . .
” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t ask her permission. He simply leaned in and kissed her.

It was a gentle kiss. His body pressed to hers. His lips pressed to hers.

And for one moment, Kennedy felt as if every girlhood fantasy had come true. She almost wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss herself, but the baby kicked. She remembered this was no fantasy, and she was no girl.

Malcolm pulled back. “Was that the baby?”

“Yes.”

“May
I . . .
” He paused. “Never mind.”

Kennedy knew he had been about to ask to feel the baby kick. The baby’s movements had become so much a part of her life that she’d never stopped to consider that Malcolm had never felt him kick. He didn’t know that the baby got hiccups. The other night they’d been so severe she couldn’t sleep.

She unzipped her parka, reached out, took his hand, and placed it on her stomach with her hand on top of his. “He likes to kick me righ
t . . .
” As if on cue, the baby obliged and kicked.

“Wow” was all Malcolm said, his voice little more than a whisper, as if he didn’t want to startle the baby.

“That was my reaction when the baby first started moving, but when he kept me up the other night hiccupping, I thought I was pretty much over it.”

He looked surprised. “They do that? Hiccup?”

“Oh, yeah. I think he’s practicing for football or some other sport, the way he kicks.”

She could tell he was reluctant as he drew his hand back, but he finally did and very formally said, “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

She turned to go in the house, then stopped. “Malcolm, when you came into my flower shop a couple weeks ago, I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted you to know about the baby. And after you found out, I wanted you to turn around and head back to Pittsburgh. I wanted you to leave me with him because it would be easier for me. I was selfish, because everything I know about you tells me you’ll be a wonderful father.”

“What do you want now, Kennedy?”

“I don’t know what I want.” That was as honest an answer as she could give.

“Maybe that’s a start,” he said slowly. “I do think we should marry, but I don’t know how we’d make that work. You’ll be here and
I . . .
won’t.”

“Well, then maybe that’s a start, too.”

“As long as we’re starting, let me try this one more time.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. This time, it was no gentle introduction. This was the kiss she remembered from almost nine months ago. And for the first time since Malcolm had come home, she let her guard down completely and kissed him back.

When they finally broke apart, he smiled and said, “Yes, maybe this was a start. And maybe it’s okay if neither of us is sure exactly what we’re starting. See you tomorrow, Kennedy.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next morning Kennedy realized she was excited that she’d be seeing Malcolm again tonight to shop for baby furniture. She tried to tamp down the feeling, but it kept bubbling back to the surface. Except last night’s kiss—kisses—couldn’t happen again. Kissing Malcolm would complicate their relationship, which was already complicated enough.

Working on six arrangements for a funeral helped dampen her enthusiasm for the evening. She hadn’t personally known Steve Stevenson. He was an older farmer who had lived on the outskirts of the county. His son was taking over the farm. He’d called and ordered the family’s arrangements. She loved that his son, Jonah, was taking over the family farm. He’d mentioned he’d be the fourth generation to farm that land.

What would that be like? She couldn’t imagine having that deep connection to a place. She longed to have roots like that. That’s what she was trying to build for her baby here in Cupid Falls. She wanted her child to walk down the streets and know everyone, not grow up in some impersonal city where no one even made eye contact.

She wanted them to look at a divot in the floor and know they put it there when they dropped something. To see the tree in the backyard and remember climbing it, or swinging on it when they were young.

She wanted to tell them the legend of the falls and someday maybe they’d take someone they loved there. Or maybe, like Pap, they’d simply meet someone there and know—heart and soul—that was the person they’d spend their life with.

She wanted her child to go out in the world and spread their wings but to always come back to Cupid Falls and have it feel like coming home.

The bell rang, and like Pavlov’s dogs, Kennedy automatically put her clippers down and put her fantasies for her child away as she walked out front.

“Hi, Mayor,” Jenny Murray said with none of her normal bubbliness.

There was something in her tone, in her eyes, that made Kennedy ask, “Jenny, what’s wrong?”

“I came in to order some flowers from everyone at The Cupboard for Mr. Stevenson’s funeral.”

“Were you close to him?” she asked, thinking that might be why Jenny seemed so upset.

Jenny shook her head. “He used to come into the restaurant. I’ve waited on him. He was a very nice man.”

“So I repeat, what’s wrong?”

Jenny teared up. “I downloaded some do-it-yourself divorce papers and sent them to Wade. He’s working in Ohio. Only an hour away, but he hasn’t seen the kids, or even talked to them on the phone. He called me, furious, and said if I get a divorce, he’s filing for sole custody of the kids.”

“I don’t understand,” Kennedy said. “If he’s left you, why wouldn’t he want a divorce?”

“He thinks if we stay married, things can go on like they’ve been. He doesn’t have to send any money for the kids. And he said I’m the best dating tool he’s ever had. Women can’t get too serious about a married man. But I think mainly he’s afraid if we’re divorced, I’ll take him to court. He’d have to pay child support and he doesn’t want to do that.”

Tears welled up in Jenny’s eyes. “I should never have married him. I was only eighteen when I got pregnant with Timmy, and my family insisted. Wade was working at Dad’s garage. It was a twenty-first-century shotgun wedding. The next year we had Lenny, then Ivy. I felt stuck. I think the best thing Wade Murray ever did was leave me. But I’ll stay married to him if that’s what it takes to keep my kids.”

“What can I do?” Kennedy asked.

“Nothing, Mayor. Really. I don’t think I’ll ever want to date another man, much less marry one. Marrying someone is a leap of faith. You’re saying you trust them to catch you when you take that jump. Wade never caught me.”

Kennedy didn’t want to see that lowlife Wade Murray take advantage of Jenny’s love for her kids. “You should talk to Malcolm. He could help.”

“If I had money for a lawyer, it wouldn’t be for some slimy deadbeat like Mal.”

Seeing sweet, sunny Jenny come into the shop so upset had been a shock, but hearing her talk about anyone like that was an even bigger shock. “Jenny, what on earth did Malcolm ever do to you?”

“It’s not me, it’s you. Everyone in town knows, Kennedy,” she said with unexpected ferocity. “And we all think it’s perfectly rotten of him to get you pregnant and leave you to deal with things on your own. Tavi said she kicked him
accidentally
”—she air quoted the word—“the other day. I told her I would have dropped his coffee on him.” She paused a moment and added, “
Hot
coffee,” just to make her intentions known.

Of all the scenarios Kennedy had imagined with her whole situation, the town’s anger toward Malcolm hadn’t even made the list. She didn’t know what to do about it. “Jenny, first off, you, more than anyone, should know that marrying for a baby’s sake never works.”

Rather than softening Jenny, the reminder of her soon-to-be ex made her look more fierce. “I’m not talking about marrying, I’m simply talking about supporting you. You’ve gone through your whole pregnancy on your own. Helping out Pap with Mal’s business and dealing with your own, plus being mayor. Where was he? In Pittsburgh, that’s where. That’s how it is with men. They have no problem dumping everything on women.”

Kennedy shook her head. “There was no dumping between me and Malcolm. I didn’t tell him until he came home two weeks ago. Actually a bit less than that. And ever since, he’s tried to help me, whether it was cooking Thanksgiving dinner for me, feeding me leftovers, offering to shop for the baby and set up the nursery for m
e . . .
”

It wasn’t simply that he asked her to marry him; he’d stepped up and tried to help where he could. And it wasn’t even tangible things like cooking. There was the house. Every time she went home and saw it reflecting more her style than Aunt Betty’s, it was because of him. Because of his suggestion to make it more her, to start making it look like
her
home, rather than someone else’s.

He’d made her feel more at home at the house than she’d ever felt.

“Listen, I’m going to ask Malcolm to talk this over with you because he’s the best lawyer I know. He graduated top of his class and he’s won every case he’s worked on so far.” She held up a hand. “And before you say something about him bragging, I heard that all from Val and Pap, not Malcolm. He’s not only good, he’s the best.”

She switched topics. “And I’m going to ask you to do something for me in return.”

“Anything, Kennedy. I hope you know that.”

“I need your help putting out this particular fire. I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word that Mal didn’t know anything about my pregnancy until he got home for Thanksgiving. Seriously, he didn’t even know I was pregnant, much less pregnant with his baby. He’s offered to marry me and I said no, but he’s staying in town for a while to help me get ready for junior here.” She patted her ginormous stomach, hoping the reminder of the baby would soften Jenny’s feelings toward his father. “We’re going shopping for baby furniture tonight. Does that sound like something a deadbeat dad would do?”

“No,” Jenny said slowly.

“Malcolm has been nothing but honorable. If you could spread the word, I’d appreciate it.”

Jenny seemed to consider what Kennedy had said for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I will.”

“And if Malcolm agrees, will you go see him for advice?” Kennedy knew she didn’t need to worry about him agreeing. He would say yes because she asked. She knew that as sure as she knew her own name.

“Yes, I’ll talk to him.” Jenny reached out and hugged Kennedy. “Thank you, Kennedy. For everything.”

Kennedy patted Jenny’s back.

Jenny pulled back and Kennedy said, “In the meantime, why don’t we call Jon and let him know what’s going on with Wade? As a cop, he’ll know what to do if Wade shows up.” Kennedy didn’t say it, but she was worried. She’d never liked Wade Murray. He’d flirted with her more than once while he was married to Jenny and she had no respect for the man. She wouldn’t put it past him to show up and simply take the kids. And since he was still married to Jenny, Kennedy didn’t think there was any legal reason he couldn’t. But Wade struck her as a coward, so if Jon was around, he probably wouldn’t do anything. And she was sure Malcolm could do something so that he didn’t have the right to.

“I’m seeing Malcolm tonight and I’ll ask him. If he can’t, I’m sure he’ll know someone who can.”

“I can’t afford much, Kennedy,” Jenny admitted.

She brushed Jenny’s concerns about money aside. “That is the least of your worries. We’ll figure that out. Right now, you go call Jon, and I’ll talk to Malcolm and get back to you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.” Jenny started toward the door and then turned around. “I’ll tell everyone about Mal, like you asked, but know if it comes down to him or you, I’m on your side. And if you need anything at all, you just holler.”

“Thanks.”

“I’d like to think we’ve always been friends,” Jenny said slowly.

Kennedy nodded. “That’s how I think of you.”

“Well, they say the difference between a friend and a good friend is when you tell a friend a man’s done you wrong, they commiserate. When you tell a good friend, they ask where you want to bury the body.” She offered Kennedy a small smile. “If you need me to help bury the body, you simply have to say so.”

Jenny was as sweet as the day was long, but looking at her expression, Kennedy felt as if Malcolm had better really watch his step, because burying the body might be something Jenny took care of on her own.

Mal glanced at Kennedy as they drove into Erie again for the second night in a row.

Mal thought that was the wonderful thing about Cupid Fall
s . . .
the city was practically on their doorstep. Cupid Falls’ residents had access to Erie’s Millcreek Mall and the Great Lake, the bayfront, the Broadway theater serie
s . . .
and if Erie’s amenities being a half hour away weren’t enough, there were three major cities within a couple of hours’ drive—Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Cleveland.

There was a huge baby store on upper Peach Street, a shopping mecca up from the mall. The entire shopping district was Christmased up to the hilt. Lights. Garlands. Santas. Peach Street and the mall had it all going on.

Mal couldn’t help but notice that for someone who was making do with a cradle next to her bed, Kennedy definitely got into the fun of things.

She oohed and aahed over the seasonal displays, and she explored the baby gadgets with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Two hours later, they had a crib that later converted into a youth bed. They had a changing table that converted into a plain dresser. There was a car seat that mounted onto a base in the car and mounted on a stroller as well.

“Can you think of anything else you need?” he asked, thinking he was glad he had an SUV. The furniture would be delivered, but the rest of the baby stuff they’d take now.

“I think that’s it.”

“What about a rocking chair?” he asked, pointing to a collection in the back corner of the store.

“There’s one in the basement. It was my mom’s and before that, her mom’s. I was going to bring it up. I like the idea of the baby being rocked in the same chair that family had been. My mother will never know the baby, so it’s a nice connection.” She paused, then reached out and took his hand, whispering, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

Mal realized she was apologizing for reminding him that his mom would never know this baby, either. For a moment he was almost floored with the pain of that knowledge. His mom would have loved the baby. And the baby would have loved her.

He’d mourned for her, but he realized since he’d come home he’d been so focused on the baby and Kennedy the pain had receded a little. Maybe it was simply having someone who understood his loss. “I have a small table that my grandmother gave Mom. She brought it with her to Pittsburgh, then brought it back when we moved home. If you’d like, I’ll bring it over and you can put it next to your rocker. That way, every time you rock the baby, they’ll both be a part of it.”

Kennedy teared up. “Thank you.”

“As for the rocker, you won’t bring it up. I will. When they deliver the furniture, I’ll help you move things around.”

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, then smiled. “You’re bossy. Is it an attorney thing?”

“I think it’s a genetic thing. You’ve met Senior, right?” He clarified, “But I meant it as a genuine offer, not a command.”

“Then I’ll accept your offer of the table and your offer of the assistance. Thank you.”

“And I’d like to pay for the nursery items.”

That moment of connection was gone as quickly as it arrived. She visibly bristled. “I don’t need you to pay.”

“I didn’t think you did. But I’d like to. I’m going to be the baby’s father. You’re going to have to let me help.”

She considered what he said for a moment. Mal wondered just what she was thinking. She didn’t vocalize her thought process. But finally she nodded. “Fifty-fifty?”

He’d have preferred to simply pay for all of it, but it was a compromise. “Fine.”

They carried the slips for the furniture and a cart of extras toward the register. Mal stopped at a rack of books before they got there. He scanned the titles and put three in the cart.