Starlight (27 page)

“Funny?” he straightened. “How do you mean ‘funny’?”

“I’ve had a backache all day, and now it seems to be traveling around to my stomach. I think it might be a good idea if we started timing these pains.”

The blood drained from his face. “Pain? You said you felt funny. You didn’t say anything about pain.”

Her hand traveled down his tense jaw. “Relax, Rand. I’m sure it must be false labor. It’s almost three weeks too early.”

“I’ll call the doctor.”

“Don’t do that. It’s much too soon even if this is the real thing.”

An hour later, there could be no denying the pain that constricted her abdomen.

“I’m sorry, Rand, but I think we should call the doctor. This pain is too intense to be anything but real.”

“Dear God.” For a moment, Rand remained frozen, as if in his own silent terror. “You’re sure?” he questioned one more time.

Again, Karen was seized with another contraction, taking deep heaving breaths before she could respond. “Yes,” she groaned softly, “the baby’s coming.”

“Carl.” The name was wrenched from Rand as panic seemed to fill him. “I have to phone Carl … then the doctor.”

“Honey, settle down. I’m all right; everything is fine.” For the first time, Karen saw that Rand was troubled, unsure. “Rand … if you’d prefer it, I could go to the hospital alone.”

“No.” He nearly shouted the word. “I’d go insane sitting at home worrying about you. I want to be there when … the … our baby is born.”

A minute later, Carl was knocking on the door, his face tight and anxious. “Miss Karen, are you okay?”

“It’s too early,” Rand repeated, as if hoping against hope she was teasing.

“It is too early,” she agreed with a soft smile, “but I’m afraid no one bothered to tell the baby that.”

“Oh, God.”

The drive to the hospital was a bad dream. Rand kept telling her it was weeks too soon—she must be mistaken—and then shouting at Carl to hurry.

Karen was met at the hospital door by one of the nursing staff, who took her into the obstetrics ward. It was more than an hour later before she saw Rand.

He looked pale, drawn, his hair a mess, as if he’d jerked his hands through it several times.

“Karen.” He caught her fingers, holding them tightly to his mouth.

She bit into her bottom lip to keep from groaning as she was wrenched by another pain. “Rand.” Her hand smoothed his hair away from his face. “Listen, there’s something I must tell you.”

“No, you listen. I love you … I’ve done so little to deserve your love. The thought of my life without you is unbearable.”

Tears blurred her eyes, and she drew a ragged breath. “Oh, Rand, I love you, too.” Again, her stomach hardened and contracted. Against her will, she whimpered softly as the pain ebbed.

“Nurse,” Rand cried, “my wife is in pain. Do something.”

“Rand, you must listen to me … it’s about the baby.”

The white-capped nurse rushed into the room. “Mr. Prescott, there’s nothing we can do now to ease your wife’s discomfort. The doctor’s on his way.” The woman sounded so calm and sane against the frantic cries of her husband.

Karen smiled tenderly at this man she loved. “Rand,” she placed his hand on her stomach, “please listen, because I want to be the one to tell you.” She paused as the grinding agony ripped through her once again.

“Tell me what?” he asked as she relaxed.

“Rand.” She kept her eyes shut, afraid to look into his eyes, then couldn’t help herself. “We’re having twins.”

“Twins,” he bellowed, then repeated it incredulously. “Twins?” He shook his head as if stunned. “I should have known to expect something like this.”

“Are you angry?”

“No,” he denied instantly.

Again, Karen was gripped by the tormenting pain. Rand kissed her hand several times. “My love,” he whispered as if the pain was his own, “let us work together to bring these new lives into the world. Show me what I can do to help you.”

Her eyes shining with an infinite tenderness, Karen smiled softly.

Several hours later, after the delivery, Rand joined Karen in her hospital room. She was exhausted but radiant, content and happy as her husband sat beside her and kissed her.

“How are they?” she questioned softly.

A look came over him, unreadable at first, myriad emotions. There was pride, satisfaction, and a wealth of love. “They’re perfect, Karen. The nurses let me hold Jody and then Jenny. It was incredible to touch and feel our daughters. For the first time, I realize that you and I are bound together by far more than vows. The whole while you were in labor, I was experiencing this terrible guilt because I hadn’t wanted a family. Then suddenly they were there, and I knew I would love these little girls beyond reason, as I love their mother.”

Karen held his hand against her breast. “I love you.”

“My wife, my lover, the mother of my children. You hold my life and everything important in the palm of your hand.” Tenderly, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and very gently kissed her palm.

Read on for an excerpt from Debbie Macomber’s

Starting Now

Chapter 1
 

This was it. Surely it must be.

The instant Libby Morgan heard her paralegal tell her “Hershel would like to see you in his office,” she knew. Oh, there’d been rumblings around the office about layoffs and early retirements. Such gossip simply verified what she felt in her heart Hershel was sure to tell her. She’d waited for this moment for six very long years.

Libby had always wondered how she’d feel when she finally got the news. She longed to hold on to this sense of happy expectation for as long as possible. In retrospect, she must have intuitively known something was up because she’d worn her best pin-striped suit today, choosing the pencil skirt over her normal tailored slacks. And thankfully she’d had a salon appointment just the day before. Getting her hair cut was long overdue, but seeing how good it looked now, she felt it was worth every penny of the hundred dollars Jacques had charged her. A good cut did wonders for her appearance. She wore her dark brown hair parted in the middle in an inverted bob so that
it framed her face, curling around her jawline. Jacques had mentioned more than once how fortunate she was to have such thick hair. She hadn’t felt that way when he’d insisted she have her eyebrows plucked. But he’d been right; she looked good. Polished. Professional. She promised herself not to go so long between appointments again.

Libby didn’t see herself as any great beauty. She was far too realistic and sensible, was well aware of her physical shortcomings. At best she was pretty, or at least Joe, her ex-husband, had told her she was. She knew she was probably no better than average. Average height, average weight; brown hair, brown eyes, with no outstanding features, but on the inside she was a dynamo. Dedicated, hardworking, goal-oriented. Perfect partner material.

Reaching for her yellow legal pad, Libby headed toward the managing partner’s opulent office. Outwardly she remained calm and composed, but inwardly her heart raced and her head spun.

Finally. Finally, she was about to be rewarded for the hard choices and sacrifices she’d made.

Libby was in her sixth year of an eight-year partnership track. Hopefully she was about to achieve the goal that she had set her heart on the minute she’d been accepted as an associate in the Trusts and Estates Department at Burkhart, Smith & Crandall, a high-end Seattle-based law firm. She was about to be made partner even earlier than anticipated.

While she didn’t want to appear overly confident, it went without saying that no one deserved it more than she did. Libby had worked harder, longer, and more effectively than any other attorney employed by the firm. Her legal expertise on the complex estate-planning project for Martha Reed hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Libby had provided a large number of billable hours and the older woman had taken a liking to her. Over the past month two partners had stopped by her office to compliment her work.

Libby could almost feel her mother looking down on her from heaven, smiling and proud. Molly Jo Morgan had died of breast cancer when Libby was thirteen. Before dying, Libby’s mother had taken her daughter’s hand and told her to work hard, and to never be afraid
to go after her goals. She’d advised Libby to dream big and warned her there would be hard choices and sacrifices along the way.

That last summer her mother was alive had set Libby’s life course for her. Although her mother wouldn’t be around to see her achievements, Libby longed to make her mother proud. Today was sure to be one of those
Hey, Mom, look at me
moments.

Early on in high school Libby had set her sights on becoming an attorney. She was the president of the Debate Club and was well known for her way of taking either side of an issue and making a good argument. Reaching her goal hadn’t been easy. Academic scholarships helped, but there were still plenty of expenses along the way. Funds were always tight. In order to support herself through college she’d worked as a waitress and made some good friends. Later on in law school she’d found employment as a paralegal in the Seattle area.

Her career path had taken a short detour when she married Joe Wilson. Joe worked as a short-order cook. They’d met at the diner where she waited tables while in college. When she moved from Spokane he willingly followed her to the Seattle area and quickly found another job, cooking in a diner. He was the nicest guy in the world, but their marriage was doomed from the beginning. Joe was content to stay exactly where he was for the rest of his life while Libby was filled with ambition to be so much more. The crux came when he wanted her to take time out of her career so they could start a family. Joe wanted children and so did Libby, but she couldn’t risk being shunted off to the “Mommy Track” at the firm. She’d asked him to be patient for a couple more years. Really, that wasn’t so long. Once she was established at the firm it wouldn’t matter so much. But Joe was impatient. He feared that once those two years were up she’d want another year and then another. Nothing she said would convince him otherwise.

Hershel glanced up when she entered his office. He wasn’t smiling, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Sit down, Libby,” he said, gesturing toward the chair on the other side of his desk.

One day her office would look like this, Libby mused, with old-world charm, comfortable leather chairs, polished wood bookcases, and a freestanding globe. Pictures of Hershel’s wife and children stared back at her from the credenza behind his desk. The one of him sailing never failed to stir her. Hershel had his face to the camera, his hair wind-tossed as the sailboat sliced through the Pacific Ocean on a crystal-clear day, with a sky as blue as Caribbean waters. The sailboat keeled over so close to the water’s edge she wanted to hold her breath for fear the vessel would completely overturn.

The photograph inspired Libby because it proved to her that one day, as partner, she, too, would have time to vacation and enjoy life away from the office. But in order to do that her work, her commitment to the law firm and her clients, had to be her sole focus.

Libby sat in the chair Hershel indicated and relaxed, crossing her legs. She knew the managing partner’s agenda. What she hadn’t expected was the deeply etched look of concern on his face. Oh, it would be just like Hershel to lead into this announcement circuitously.

“I’ve taken a personal interest in you from the day the firm decided to hire you,” he said, setting his pen down on his desk. He took a moment to be certain it was perfectly straight.

“I know and I’m grateful.” Libby rested her back against the comfortable padding. “It’s been a wonderful six years. I’ve worked hard and feel that I’m an asset to the firm.”

“You have done an excellent job.”

Libby resisted the impulse to remind him of all the billable hours she’d piled up on a number of accounts.

“You’re a hard worker and an excellent attorney.”

Libby took a moment to savor his words. Hershel wasn’t known to hand out praise freely. “Thank you.” She sat up straighter now, anticipating what would come next. First he would smile, and then he would announce that after discussing the matter with the other partners they would like to …

Her projection was interrupted when Hershel went on to say, “I’m sure you’re aware that the last six months have been a challenge for the firm.” He met her gaze head-on, and in his eyes she read regret and concern as his thick brows came together. “We’ve experienced a significant decline in profitability due to the recession.”

A tingling sensation started at the base of Libby’s neck. This conversation wasn’t taking the route she’d anticipated.

“I’ve certainly carried my load,” she felt obliged to remind him. More than any other attorney on staff, especially Ben Holmes, she thought but didn’t say. At six o’clock, like a precision timepiece, Ben was out the door.

Hershel picked up the same pen he’d so carefully positioned only a few moments before and held it between his palms. “You’ve carried a substantial load, which is one reason why this decision has been especially difficult.”