A Life Worth Fighting (7 page)

I smile and ask, “Would you like one?” The bell over the door rings and when I look up I see Jo’s husband, Carl, walking in. I stand and extend my hand to his and say, “Good morning, Carl.”

“Bobby, how are you?” he asks, shaking my hand.

“I’m good, thank you.”

Leah walks over with a big smile. “Carl, it’s been forever.”

He smiles and bends down to hug her. “Leah, you look wonderful.”

“Thank you, are you staying? Do you want a coffee or something?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I just came by to get Josephine. There’s an auction this morning we want to go to. We best be gettin’ if we want to make it on time.”

Jo stands up, removes her apron, and folds it carefully before taking it into the back room. She returns, carrying a white sweater.

“Are you ready, Josephine?” he asks.

“I am.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss her. “We’ll see you kids later,” he says, taking her by the hand and walking towards the door.

“It’s good seeing you both.” Leah and I walk them to the door and I say, “Be careful and have fun.”

“Thank you, we will. I’ll see you in the morning, Leah.”

We stand there and watch them drive off. Bethany pulls into the parking lot and a few other cars follow behind her. “Looks like your morning rush is here.”

“I know, it’s crazy, right?”

“A bookstore, bakery, and coffee shop. I never imagined it would be such a big deal.”

Leah laughs and says, “Me, either.”

“I better go. No heavy lifting and I’ll be here at 6:00 to help you close up.”

“Okay, I love you, Robert.”

I place my hand on her flat belly. “I love you both, too.”

Leah

I watch as Robert greets Bethany at the door and holds the door open for the patrons coming in behind her. When the last girl walks in, Robert nods to her and leaves. Standing at the large picture window overlooking the sidewalk and parking lot, I watch as she turns around to get another look at him. I smile as she watches him and his cluelessness about his incredible good looks. He waves goodbye to me before getting into his black Hummer and driving off.

“Wow, he’s hot,” the woman says as she walks further into the shop. “Does he belong to you?” she asks.

I laugh and nod, “He does.”

“Good Lord, all that yumminess rolled up into one. I’d keep a leash on him if he were mine. Where’s your erotica section?” she asks.

“In the far back.”

I straighten up the pillows on the couches and remove Jo’s and Robert’s coffee cups. Bethany is already wiping down the coffee station when I get to the counter. “How was your night?” I ask.

“Good, I spent a quiet evening with Dante, who is pretty hot.” She smiles and nods to the display table holding Brooke’s romance books.

“Aww, I heard about him.”

“Yeah, and the girl is right when she says that he’s pretty hot, too,” she says and I know she is referring to the girl in the back talking about Robert.

“Yumminess rolled into one?” I ask.

“And then some,” she laughs.

We work steadily when Brooke walks in with a tote full of books. “Hey, I hope this is a good time?”

“Yes, it’s perfect timing.”

“I can’t believe my books sold so quickly.”

“You’re a hot commodity.”

She
sighs, “It’s because of Dante; he’s quite the gentleman.”

I say, “I heard. I’m taking him home with me tonight.” We both laugh at the thought of me taking another man home with me.

“Good, let me know what you think about the books,” Brooke says.

“I will.”

“Don’t blow smoke up my… well, you know. I want only honest opinions. I can take constructive criticism. Start by telling me I’m brilliant and then honestly tell me the strong and the weak points of my books.”

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t dream of blowing smoke.” We both laugh and I don’t need to finish the sentence. “But seriously, I wanted to talk to you about doing a book signing.”

“Where? Here?”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe on a Saturday. We could set up a table for you over there, so the line flows along the wall and out the door. We can display your banner on a tall stand behind you; the banner would have your book info, your author’s page website, and about-the-author information.
We can also display your books nicely on the table you’ll be signing at. We could also call the local television news station, radio and newspaper for a story.”

“It sounds great, but I think you may be expecting too much. Remember, I’m a self-published author, and I don’t really have a massive fan base.
I have read a lot of biographies and autobiographies of authors who attended book signings. Erma Bombeck became a best-selling author, but at her first book signing, she signed exactly one book. And R. L. Stein, author of the multi-million-copy bestselling
Goosebumps
and
Fear Street
books, started out as a funny author who sold zero copies of his book
How to be Funny
at a book signing even though he wore bunny ears to attract people’s attention.”

Bethany comes over and helps to display the books. “People ask for your books daily. Word is spreading about you quickly.”

“I told all my friends my books are here and I also promoted it on every social media group I belong to for publicity. It’s free and very effective,” Brooke says.

“I see your sales in here and the locals love you. I think we should set it up for next month, get the buzz going now.”

I can see the excitement grow in her eyes. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s do it. But don’t be disappointed if this is a flop.”

“And don’t be surprised if this is a huge success.”

Later that night, Robert comes and helps me to close up the shop. He kisses me and asks, “How was your day?”

“It was great. Business is actually picking up.”

“That’s great. Pastries and books, who knew?” he teases.

“Obviously, I knew.”

We decide to dine out at a local small, quaint Italian restaurant. I tell him about the book signing I am planning on having at the shop for Brooke. He tells me Gus’ wife, Dove, is a reporter at the newspaper and maybe she’ll do an exclusive interview with Brooke. I know Gus better than I know Dove. I am excited and can’t wait to start promoting the signing at the shop.

“I need to get some signs posted and start promoting it, soon.”

Robert asks, “When is it?”

“I don’t have a date yet. I think a month should be enough time to promote it.”

“I would say a month is good. Maybe you can have a contest at the shop for the kids to make posters. Offer a free child’s book or two to the winner or winners,” he suggests.

“That is a great idea. Get the kids involved and their parents automatically become involved.”

“Exactly.”

“And who doesn’t like free books? I could also offer a free signed set of Brooke’s trilogy to the mother of the child,” I say, a little more excited than I intended. “I’ll need some poster boards and art supplies.”

“Tonight you need to rest. We’ll get the items you need later this week,” he insists.

“I am a little tired,” I admit.

Once we are home, I soak in a hot tub and Robert brings me up some hot tea. I look at him and he says, “Decaf.”

“You went to the store?”

“I did. I just picked up some things for you and…,” he cuts off mid-sentence.

“For me and… the baby?” I ask while stirring the tea.

“Mostly for you, but I did get something for the baby. I wasn’t going to tell you. I was afraid you would think it was bad luck.”

I smile at him and ask, “May I see it?”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Please, I would really like to see it.”

He walks out of the room and comes back in, carrying a small sack. He lifts up two pairs of baby booties: a pink pair and a blue pair. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get something.” He holds them in his large hands.

“Oh, Robert,” I say in a quivering voice.

“Baby, don’t cry.” He sets the booties down on the edge of the tub and kneels down to hug me. “Don’t cry. Baby.”

I cry softly into his shirt. “I don’t know why I’m crying. That is such a sweet gesture.” Robert doesn’t say anything; he just strokes my hair with his hand. I sniffle and let out a small chuckle. He backs up and looks down at me.

“Are you all right now?”

“I am, thank you.” I lean up and place the small baby booties on the palm of my hand. “Jamie had this same pair, didn’t she?”

“I think she did.”

“Is it wrong that I want another girl?” I slowly look up at him.

“No, Leah, I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Robert

I didn’t have the heart to tell Leah that I want another girl, too — but a boy is fine, also. This pregnancy is a blessing and I pray it goes well. Leah and I have so much love to give a child. We always wanted a large family, but now, all we want is
a
child.

I stand up from the edge of the bathtub and say, “Take your time, I’ll wait for you in here.” I pick up the small baby booties and place them back in the sack, walking towards the door.

“Okay, I’ll be a few more minutes.”

“Take your time,” I say, closing the door slightly behind me. I put the sack back in my top dresser drawer. I walk over to my nightstand and pick up the framed picture of Leah, Jamie, and me. It was taken on the front porch of the house the morning Jamie died. I was holding Jamie, and Leah was standing close with her arms wrapped around the both of us. Jamie was holding Jack with a big smile on her face. I smile and run my fingers over Jamie’s face, tracing her face, neck, and her arms. Her long brown hair was in pigtails with yellow ribbons tied to them. Leah and I have black hair, but Jamie’s hair was light brown. Leah comes out of the bathroom, and I place the picture back on the nightstand.

“I love that picture,” she says sadly.

“Me, too. She was so happy that day. If only we had stayed home and not gone to the zoo.”

“Robert, don’t.”

“I can’t help but think she would still be alive and that she would still be with us today.”

Leah grabs her stomach and bends over in pain. I run over to her and ask, “What is it?” I don’t wait for her to answer before I walk her over to the bench at the foot of our bed.

“Ouch,” she says as she squeezes her eyes shut.

I kneel down beside her and say, “Breathe through it.”

After a minute, she looks up at me. “It’s gone. It was a sharp pain, but it’s gone now.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiles and says, “Yes, it’s over.”

“Stay here.” I walk over to her side of the bed and pull back the covers. She is still wrapped in a towel so I get a white eyelet nightgown from her dresser drawer. Holding it out for her so I can slip it over her head, I say, “Arms up.”

She laughs and says, “Robert, I’m fine.”

“Arms up,” I repeat, not blinking an eye so she knows I am serious.

“Fine.” She removes the towel and holds her arms up. I slip it over her head and she jerks her arms through the arm holes. “Is this how you’re going to be the entire pregnancy?”

“Caring? Yes.”

“Overbearing?”

“Yes, that, too. Bed. Now.”

“Robert?”

“Leah, get in bed.” I walk over and hold the blankets up for her to climb under. “I want you to rest; don’t argue with me.”

“You can be so difficult at times,” she complains as she climbs into the bed. I cover her up and bend down to kiss her. “Do you want some water?”

“Yes, please.”

“If you have another pain, I want to know about it.” I wait for her to answer. She isn’t looking at me as she is adjusting the covers over her. “Leah?”

“Yes, okay, I’ll let you know.” She looks up at me with anger in her eyes.
The hormones are starting already.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with your water.” I bend down and kiss her again before leaving to get her water from the kitchen.

I return to the bedroom with her water and she is already asleep. I don’t set the alarm for in the morning; I already know I won’t be getting much sleep tonight. I sleep very aware of Leah’s slightest movements. She tosses and turns, but she doesn’t moan or cry out in pain. When I feel she is all right and I know I won’t sleep, I decide to get my running done early. I make sure Leah’s cell phone is on her nightstand before I leave the house for my run.

I dress in the workout room, down some water, and pound my feet to the cement listening to “The Eye of the Tiger.” I run my usual route past the cemetery, but it is locked up and I’m not able to stop in for my morning visit with Jamie. I usually run later in the day and the gate is always unlocked and opened when I get there. I am happy to see it is secured shut. Sadly, we had a problem with kids vandalizing the cemetery last year, so the cemetery caretakers started locking the gate at night. It worked so I’m happy about that. I feel sorry for the little vandalizing pricks if I ever catch them.