Entertaining Angels (22 page)

Paternal eyes swept over her, almost like he’d learned how to tell a person’s real age by looking, but he didn’t challenge her. Instead, he asked her to lie down. When she did, resting her head on the pillow, he proceeded to poke and push on her stomach.

Then, after he called the nurse back into the room, he did a pelvic exam. When he was finished, he asked the nurse to set up for an ultrasound.

“What’s that?” Renee asked.

“It’s a scan that will show us what’s going on inside your uterus,” Dr. Purvis said. “It’s routine at this point. I want to make sure everything is proceeding and developing the way it’s supposed to.”

That made sense.

“In your case,” he said, “I’ll be watching you closely since you’re a high-risk pregnancy.”

“Why?” she asked, wondering if he’d found something wrong.

“Your age for one thing.”

She wouldn’t cop to lying about it unless he started yelling at her. But he didn’t.

“I want you to start on prenatal vitamins right away,” he added. “And we’ll need you to have blood drawn before you leave the office. I also want a urine sample. If I find anything we need to be concerned about, I’ll give you a call.”

“Would it be okay if I called you? I don’t have a phone.”

His glasses slid to the tip of his nose, and he looked at her over the top of them. “Okay.”

For some reason, she felt busted again.

The nurse wheeled in a machine, and as she set it up, the doctor smeared a cold gel on Renee’s belly. Moments later, she was instructed to look at the screen. Her first thought was that it had bad reception like a TV on the blink.

“There’s your baby,” Dr. Purvis said.

“Where?” Renee studied the black and gray images on the screen, trying to spot something baby-like swimming around.

Dr. Purvis pointed out the head and the spine, which he said looked good. He also showed her the arms and hands, as well as the legs and feet.

A fist went up and seemed to disappear into the baby’s head.

“See that?” Dr. Purvis asked. “The baby’s sucking its thumb.”

“Really?” Renee’s lips parted, and her eyes widened, as she looked at the doctor to see if he was messing with her. But he didn’t seem to be.

He fiddled with a couple of buttons and typed in some numbers, then he made the screen freeze. “You’re about twenty-two weeks along. Do you want to know if you’re having a girl or a boy?”

“No kidding? Can you really tell?” Renee tore her gaze away from the screen long enough to check out the doctor’s face.

Again, his expression was serious. “If the baby will cooperate, I can tell.”

“Then, yes. Absolutely. I want to know what it’s going to be.”

He went back to work, pushing the camera-thingy against her belly. “Aw, there we go. I’ve got a clear view. And … it’s a little girl.”

Renee hadn’t given the baby’s sex any thought until Jesse had said it would be a girl. And from that day on, she’d begun to imagine herself with a daughter.

Weird that Jesse would know that.

She bit down on her bottom lip, then asked, “Can you tell if she has dark curly hair?”

Dr. Purvis chuckled. “I’m afraid our technology isn’t that good yet.”

Her head sunk back on the pillow. “It doesn’t really matter. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Jesse had probably been blowing smoke when he’d made his prediction, which really wasn’t that big of a stretch. There’d been a fifty-fifty chance that he would guess right.

But none of that really mattered.

The baby had become real today, and for the very first time, Renee was looking forward to holding her daughter in her arms.

Shana had stayed at Kristy’s until six last night, catching up with her friend and getting a chance to play with Jason and visit with Mrs. Smith.

It had been sad seeing the once warm and vibrant woman bedridden and so clearly miserable. As a child and a teen, Shana had gravitated toward Kristy’s grandma, a woman who hadn’t minded when the girls made cookies in her spic-and-span kitchen or stayed up all night yakking and giggling. And she’d never fussed about social pretenses, something her own grandmother always did.

So, when it neared the dinner hour, Kristy had asked a neighbor to sit with her grandma and had driven Shana home.

Upon entering the house for the first time in months, Shana had found her mother in the kitchen, peeling potatoes. She greeted her with a hug, and they went through the usual I-missed-you motions.

“I’ll have dinner on the table shortly,” her mother said.

“I’m really sorry, but I’m going to pass. I’m exhausted after that flight. All I want to do is sleep.”

Her mother had undoubtedly gone above and beyond by fixing all of her favorite food, but she put on a good-little-soldier smile. “I understand.”

Shana had then gone to her bedroom, sequestering herself inside, where nothing had changed while she’d been gone. The bed was still covered with that blue comforter with white trim, the walls bore the same matching wallpaper. Even her Fairbrook High pom-poms and megaphone remained in the corner where she’d left them, a memorial to a carefree teenage girl who’d ceased to exist.

Today she’d let her mom talk her into going to San Diego to shop for wedding dresses, but she’d tried on so many white gowns that her head was spinning and she couldn’t make a decision.

At least, that’s the excuse she’d used when her mom had asked which one she liked best.

Now, after ending the shopping trip, she and her mother pulled into the driveway.

“I’ll have dinner on the table in less than an hour,” her mom said.

“Please don’t rush for me. I’m going to Mulberry Park to run, and I won’t be back for at least that long.”

Her mom’s expression faltered before offering Shana one of her please-be-my-friend-again smiles, but Shana couldn’t bring herself to fully return it.

“How does spaghetti sound?” her mother asked.

“Great.” Shana wasn’t consciously trying to maintain a cold war, but she didn’t have the energy to fix the unfixable. Their mother-daughter relationship had been irrevocably damaged, a fact that they both knew.

The only trouble was, her mother wasn’t sure why.

To Cassandra’s credit, she tried to do everything in her power to make things right, but hadn’t been able to. Everything she said or did rubbed Shana the wrong way, even though she’d rarely confronted her about it.

“I’ll wait to serve dinner until you get home,” her mom said, handing over the car keys. “I can’t wait for you to meet Pastor Craig. You’ll like him. In fact, if you hadn’t decided to marry Brad, I would have played matchmaker.”

That’s all Shana needed. To hook up with a minister, of all people. A man who strove for perfection when she’d fallen so short of the mark.

Ten minutes later, after changing into her running clothes, she’d driven to Mulberry Park and parked in the shade.

She’d told her mother that she was going to run along the jogging paths, but her first stop was the new fountain and the flower garden that surrounded it.

Call her crazy or stuck on the past or whatever, but she didn’t care.

She needed to see what Ramon had done.

As she neared the drinking fountain, her gaze was drawn to a colorful display of flowers—the zinnias, the asters, the morning glories.

She stood there, immersed in the floral beauty and remembering the young man who’d turned her heart on end. She tried to imagine him as an artist—because that floral masterpiece proved that he was.

The scent of spring laced the cool sea breeze, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to forget all the reasons she’d left town. All the reasons she’d dreaded her return.

She took a drink of water and relished the cool liquid as it
trickled down her throat before she headed toward the concrete paths that started near the baseball fields.

A couple of years ago, the city had created the trail, which was now used by bikers, joggers, dog-walkers, and nature lovers who enjoyed the canyon views.

Shana had no more than reached the fence near the third-base line when a late-model Jeep Wrangler drove up and parked. She merely gave the driver a cursory glance, but as he did a double take of her, she was forced to do the same thing.

Recognition dawned, and she froze in her steps, watching Ramon get out of his vehicle.

He wore faded jeans, a white T-shirt, and a red baseball cap, but his casual clothing was the only reminder of the boy he’d once been.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Emotion clogged her throat, and she had to clear her voice in an attempt to speak at all. “Fine. How about you?”

“Not bad.”

He’d always been tall, six foot or so. But he’d grown another inch or two since she’d seen him last. He’d also bulked up now that he was a man.

“I… uh …” She gave a nod toward the drinking fountain. “I saw the garden you created. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He seemed to be taking her in, checking out the changes seven years had made in her appearance, too.

She couldn’t help wishing she’d chosen running shorts instead of sweats, a new tank top rather than the oversize shirt. That she’d left her hair down instead of pulling it back in a ponytail.

“I heard you’re getting married,” he said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She managed a half-smile, which was about all she was good for these days. Truthfully, though? She hadn’t been happy about anything in a long, long time.

He nodded toward the ball fields. “I’m coaching a kids’ baseball team.”

Before she could respond, a blond boy near the dugouts yelled, “Hey, Ramon!”

The kid jogged toward his coach, his shaggy hair flopping up and down with each stride. As he neared Ramon, a grin burst across his freckled face. “Want some help?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ramon addressed the boy, yet his gaze remained on Shana a bit longer. Finally, he ended the tentative connection and turned toward the Jeep. He opened the back end, pulled out a black canvas duffel bag full of gear, and handed it to the boy.

“Thanks, Matt. Why don’t you take this to the dugout, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

As the boy did as he was instructed, Ramon turned back to Shana. “My team has started to arrive, so I’d better go.”

She nodded. “Yeah, me, too. I’m trying to sneak in a run before dinner.”

“If you’re bored after you finish,” he said, “feel free to stop by and watch for a while. We don’t get many cheerleaders.”

“Maybe I will.”

He didn’t make a move to walk away, so neither did she.

“It’s good to see you,” he added.

“Same here.”

But it was actually bittersweet because it reminded her of how painful their breakup had been. How she’d wanted to curl up and die in the months that followed.

How a part of her actually had.

Craig entered the Delacourts’ house at five-thirty on Monday evening, expecting to smell the hearty aroma of dinner cooking. Instead, he was met with the faint scent of lemon oil and cleaning products.

He couldn’t help thinking it was odd, since Cassandra routinely went out of her way to plan and prepare exceptional meals.

“Is anyone here?” he called out, not wanting to surprise his hosts, especially since Shana had come home.

“I’m in the family room,” Daniel said.

Craig dropped his keys into his pocket and joined Daniel, who was watching ESPN on the plasma TV.

“The girls are out shopping again,” Daniel said. “So we’re on our own for dinner. What do you say we call out for pizza?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too. Cassie’s a great cook, but I’m a junk-food lover at heart. And every now and then I miss having take-out or drive-through.” Daniel reached for the telephone. “Do you have a problem with pepperoni and sausage?”

“None at all.”

Thirty minutes later, the Leaning Tower of Pizza delivery driver had brought their order, which Craig placed on the glass-topped table in the family room.

“How about a Miller Lite?” Daniel asked.

“You know,” Craig said, “I’d rather have a Coke.”

A sheepish expression crossed Daniel’s face. “I’m sorry for offering you a beer, Pastor. I should have realized you don’t drink alcohol.”

“Don’t apologize. It really has nothing to do with me being a minister. I just never acquired a taste for beer.”

Daniel went after their beverages and a couple of napkins. When he returned, he took a seat beside Craig on the sofa. “In my defense, you really don’t look like a minister. And you don’t act like one, either. So I tend to forget.”

Craig wasn’t sure what a minister was supposed to look like—or act like for that matter. If he hadn’t already felt as though he was wearing a borrowed suit that belonged to a much bigger man, he might have had some kind of retort.

“Did you always want to be a minister?” Daniel asked.

Craig wasn’t sure how much he wanted to divulge, but he liked Daniel. Maybe it was the fact that they’d had baseball in common. Or that he’d always admired men who clearly loved their children.

Yeah, yeah. He knew the psychology behind that. His dad had been bigger than life when he’d been alive. And even more so after death. So his loss had left a big hole in Craig’s life.

“Being a minister was never part of my game plan.” Craig reached for a slice of pizza, the melted mozzarella stretching until it threatened to slide right off the top of the piece he’d chosen. He used his finger to pull the cheese free and to keep it where it belonged. “I’d wanted to play professional baseball.”

“Interesting.” Daniel shot him a grin. “When I was a kid, I had the same dream, but I never had what it took to play at that caliber.”

Truthfully, Craig wasn’t sure he’d had the skills needed to be more than a second-string pitcher, but he’d wanted to give it his best shot. “When I was a senior in high school, I was drafted by the Dodgers and was sitting on top of the world.”

Daniel popped open his beer. “I can only imagine how that must have felt.”

“I also had a full-ride scholarship to Arizona State, which my family encouraged me to accept. But I was giving some serious thought to forgoing my education and playing pro ball.” Craig popped another bite of pizza in his mouth, then picked up the napkin and wiped his hands and mouth.