Ties That Bind (28 page)

“You think so?”

“Oh, I'm sure of it,” Wendy said with a wink. “So? How did your parents react to the news? Bet they were just over the moon when you told them they're going to have a grandchild.”

“Oh. Well, of course they would be,” I said cheerfully and then glanced at my watch. “Wendy, would you excuse me? I just remembered something.”

 

By the time I got home and climbed into bed with Clementine sprawled out at the foot of the bed, it was a little past ten. I dialed my parents' number in Boston.

“Parsonage.”

“Mom? It's Pippa. Is Dad there?”

“Yes, honey, but he's asleep. Why? Is something wrong?” I smiled. That was so Mom. I used to think it was silly, the way she worried about me as though I were still in grade school, but just then, I thought it was sweet. And I was sure that once my child was born, I would be just the same.

I snuggled down under the covers, drew my knees up so the little bump was a little bit bumpier, and laid my free hand on the mound. “Well, wake him up and ask him to get on the extension. There's something I want to tell you.”

“T
his is good,” Virginia said, sounding surprised.

Charlie was standing next to our table, looking pleased with himself. “What did I tell you? Would I steer my own mother-in-law wrong? Try the rice.”

“This black stuff?” Virginia poked at it with her fork. “I thought it was burned.”

“Try it,” Evelyn urged. “It's forbidden rice. In China, only the emperor was allowed to eat it. It's Charlie's latest crush.”

Charlie bent down and gave her a kiss. “You're the only crush I have, woman.”

She squeezed his hand. “Honey, why don't you sit down and relax?”

“I've got to go fix the espresso machine. But I'll join you for dessert.”

He kissed her again and headed back to the kitchen, stopping briefly at Ted and Miranda's table to check on them, though he needn't have bothered. From the way they were looking at each other, it was obvious that they were having a lovely time.

“Tastes like plain old rice to me,” Virginia mumbled. “Maybe a little chewier. Are you sure it's not burned?”

“It's supposed to be that way,” Evelyn said absently, glancing toward Ted and Miranda's table. “Looks like Miranda decided to give him another chance. What about you and Paul? Why didn't you go have coffee with him? He's obviously crazy about you.”

“He is not,” I said irritably as I cut a piece of roast chicken. “And, anyway, I wanted to spend the evening with you two.”

“You see us every day,” Evelyn observed.

I quickly popped a piece of chicken in my mouth so I wouldn't have to respond. There was no point in telling Evelyn that I didn't want to have coffee with Paul because I liked him too much. I was not going to allow myself to be distracted again. He might not be seeing Philippa, but on the other hand, he might. Just because she was carrying her deceased husband's child didn't mean she and Paul didn't have feelings for each other. I'd seen his face earlier, when we were talking about the meeting, and he said he'd promised Philippa he'd be there. It was the face of a man in love.

Evelyn gave me a sideways glance. “You know what your problem is? You're afraid to be happy.”

I swallowed my chicken. “I've got an idea,” I said in a deliberately cheerful tone. “Let's talk about something else. We should have a baby shower.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Virginia said as she pushed her rice to the far side of her plate. “Why don't I call the Ladies in Waiting and tell them we're having a surprise shower for Philippa? I'll bake a cake.”

“And I'll ask Charlie to provide a few appetizers,” Evelyn said. “He'll be all over that.”

“T
his is darling!” I pushed the tissue paper aside and pulled out a quilted diaper bag with elasticized pockets and a long shoulder strap. The fabric had a yellow background with quarter-sized dots of sage blue surrounded by wreaths of tiny green leaves.

“You made it yourself? How did you have time?”

“It's easier than it looks. Open it up,” Evelyn urged.

Inside the bag I found all kinds of presents for the baby—bottles, pacifiers, a changing pad, teething ring, baby wipes, baby powder, tiny T-shirts, and socks, as well as a present for me, an envelope containing a fifty-dollar gift card to the quilt shop. “Oh, Evelyn! How generous. Thank you so much.”

She smiled, pleased that I was so pleased. “Now that you're a quilter, you've got to start building up your stash. This will give you a start. I just wish you could keep quilting here at Cobbled Court. Are you sure we can't talk you into staying?”

“Wish I could. But after Reverend Tucker comes back from his sabbatical, I'll have to head back to Boston to stay with my parents until the baby is born. And then I'm going to have to start looking for another job. Hopefully, another pulpit.”

Abigail Spaulding frowned. Since she spends winters in Bermuda, we had met only recently, but she decided to come to my impromptu baby shower anyway, along with Wendy Perkins, Tessa Woodruff, Madelyn Beecher, and Ivy Peterman.

“Well, you don't
sound
very hopeful,” she commented.

“I'm not sure how many churches will want to hire a minister with a newborn.”

“Why should that make any difference?” She sniffed. “You're a fine minister. Even Ted Carney says so. And I thought your sermon at Waldo's funeral was lovely.”

“Thank you, Abigail. And thank you again for the baby gifts. I'm … well, I'm just overwhelmed by your generosity.”

I wasn't just saying that. Though she barely knew me, Abigail had given me a car seat, high chair, and an expensive stroller. It was very kind but yes, it was a little much, almost embarrassing. When we'd taken a break from gift opening to have some cake, I whispered as much to Margot.

“That's just Abigail's way. She gave me this necklace for my birthday,” she said, pulling the silver chain out from her blouse so I could see the heart pendant dangling from it. “It's from Tiffany's. It makes Abigail happy to see people happy.”

Apparently, there were a lot of people like that in New Bern. They weren't all as wealthy as Abigail Spaulding, but they had generous spirits. Natalie, Jessica, Antoinette, and the others from the class had given me all kinds of baby clothes. Virginia made a diaper stacker and bumper pads from some of the same fabrics that I had used on the baby quilt I'd made in class, so everything in the crib would match. Ivy gave me several children's books that her little ones had enjoyed when they were tiny. Wendy gave me a baby monitor. Tessa and Madelyn's gift was a whole box filled with baby toys, including a plush musical teddy bear. And Margot gave me a sort of backpack that you wore in front, so the baby could ride close to your heart while your hands were free to do other things. She assured me it would come in very handy.

I remember how nervous I felt when I came to New Bern, overwhelmed by the speed at which it all was happening, worried at how I would be received by the congregation, wondering what I really had to offer them—so many fears, all of them unfounded.

My unexpected sojourn to New Bern is already at the halfway point. Soon I will move on to … well, somewhere. I don't know what God has planned for me next, but coming to New Bern has taught me, once again, that I can rest easy, knowing the plan is a good one. Still, it is hard to imagine that anyplace could come to feel like home, and so quickly, in the way New Bern has.

The presents having been opened and the coconut cake with lemon filling now nothing more than shreds of coconut confetti and delicious crumbs, Virginia informed everyone that it was time for “Show and Tell.”

Over the last eight weeks, we've seen each other's quilts at all stages of construction, but it's fun to see them finished at last. Though we all had the same teacher, and some even used the same pattern, every quilt turned out differently.

When it was getting near time to leave, Virginia passed out brochures with listings for the next term of classes. The reason I took the Ladies in Waiting class was so I could get to know other expectant mothers without giving my secret away—it wasn't about learning to quilt. But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with quilting. Even with a new crop of volunteers to help at the church, I still had so much to do, but I couldn't stop myself from scanning the class descriptions.

I felt a hand on my forearm and the presence of someone looking over my shoulder. “The machine-piecing class might be a good next step,” Evelyn said.

“Oh. I shouldn't. And anyway, I don't have a sewing machine.”

“I can loan you a machine. I've got a spare at home—nothing fancy, but it's got a nice, even straight stitch. That's all you really need. Or, if you want to continue stitching by hand, you could try this one,” she said, pointing to a listing about halfway down the page.

“‘Baltimore Basics,'” I read. “‘An introduction to the history and techniques of the Baltimore Album style of quilting, utilizing a stress-free approach to needle-turn appliqué.' Hand appliqué?”

The photograph next to the class description showed a single block with a curved wreath sprouting dozens of evenly spaced green leaves and dotted with clusters of red berries. A bird, in a lighter shade of red, sat perched on a small branch that grew out from the wreath. It was far more intricate than anything in my baby quilt.

“This looks really hard.”

Seeing Evelyn and me discussing the class, Virginia had come over to join us. “It's not so much that it's hard; it's just that it's not easy. That's why I allow four sessions just to finish the one block; this is something you need to take your time on. But I've been watching you, Philippa. You're a very precise quilter. You can do this.”

Virginia had more confidence in my abilities than I did. Still, I loved the idea of sewing a block that had some history attached to it. This block, finished and framed, would make a wonderful present for my mom. She loves all things antique. Of course, the block would be new, but it looked old. And she'd love that I made it for her myself.

“How much is the class?”

“As it so happens,” Evelyn said in a deliberately surprised voice, “this class runs exactly fifty dollars. And that includes the kit.”

I grinned. “The voice of temptation.”

“Don't be so coy. It's not like you're that hard to tempt,” Virginia said. “We had your number from the minute you walked in here. First time I saw you, I turned to Evelyn and said, ‘Evelyn, that woman is a born quilter.'”

Was that what I was?

I took the gift certificate out of my new diaper bag and handed it to Evelyn.

T
he doorbell rang at seven on the dot. Shoot! I was hoping he'd be a few minutes late. I quickly hung the last towel over the bar and gave the bathroom a final once-over. Everything looked good, but on second thought, maybe having an open flame in a home with a small child would be considered a bad thing? Philippa had advised me that child safety was absolutely key to making a good impression during my home study.

I blew out the candle, bared my teeth in the mirror, and rubbed off a lipstick smear. Would he mark me down for having only one bathroom? My parents had two and a half. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. “Coming!” I shouted and ran down the stairs.

I took a deep breath and pasted a smile on my face before opening the door. I'd never seen Geoff dressed in anything but a suit and tie, so it was strange to see him standing on my doorstep wearing khakis, a blue sweater, and a loose-fitting suede jacket. He must have gone home from the office and changed. His right hand was behind his back, but he was carrying his trusty clipboard in his left.

“Hope I'm not early,” he said and flashed a brilliant smile.

“No, no. Right on time. I was just in the bathroom. Come on in!” I opened the door wider and stood aside so he could pass.

He pulled his arm out from behind his back and handed me a bouquet of flowers, pink carnations nestled among deep green ferns and baby's breath. “For you.”

“Oh.” I hesitated just a moment before taking the bouquet. Did he usually bring flowers when conducting a home study? Maybe this was just his way of trying to help people relax. Probably he realized how nervous I was.

“Thank you. They're very pretty.”

“Pink and green,” he observed. “Your favorite colors.”

“That's right.” How had he remembered that? “I should put these in water. Do you want to see the kitchen first?”

Geoff made a little half bow. “Lead the way,” he said and followed behind me.

“I'm so nervous,” I said with a giggle and was instantly annoyed at myself for doing so. But that's what I do when I'm nervous; I can't help myself.

“Perfectly understandable. But don't worry. I've done this a hundred times. You're in very good hands.”

I found a vase, filled it with water, and dumped the flowers in without bothering to arrange them, then stood back and watched, barely breathing, while Geoff inspected my kitchen, opening cupboards, trying out the flame on the stove top, looking under the kitchen sink where I keep the cleaning supplies. When the child lock on the door prevented him from opening the door fully, he smiled. “Good job,” he said with a wink and made a note on his clipboard. I breathed a little easier.

Next, he looked in the refrigerator, which I had stocked with a variety of vegetables and fruits, orange juice, a block of cheese, a gallon of low-fat milk, yogurt, cottage cheese, a dozen eggs, a home-roasted chicken, a package of steaks, and a loaf of whole wheat bread, among other things. It was way more food than I normally keep on hand, but I wanted to let Geoff know that I was ready and willing to prepare wholesome, home-cooked meals for Olivia.

He gave the foodstuffs a cursory glance before looking at the shelves in the door. “Aha!” He pulled a bottle of white wine off the shelf.

I blanched and closed my eyes. No! With all the trouble I had gone to in the last days and weeks—buying things, repairing things, cleaning things, making sure absolutely every inch of my house was absolutely perfect—how could I have left an open bottle of wine in the refrigerator? Right in plain view!

Geoff held up the bottle and read the label. “Very nice. Where do you keep the glasses?” Without waiting for me to answer, he opened a cupboard and took out two glasses, filled both, and handed one to me. I didn't drink, just held the glass.

Geoff took a long swallow from his glass, working his mouth a bit, a look of concentration on his face. “That
is
good,” he said after a moment's consideration. “Well, everything seems fine here. Can I see the rest of the house?”

“Sure. The living room is this way.”

“Yeah, let's leave that for last. Why don't you show me upstairs?”

He followed me up the stairs, still carrying his wineglass. I had mine with me too. Since he'd just poured it, I couldn't think of a polite way to leave it behind. I didn't want to insult him. I showed him the bathroom first, apologizing that there was only one, but he assured me it didn't matter.

“I grew up in a house with two parents, four kids, and one bathroom, and I turned out fine. And this is a nice size,” he said, flipping the fan, then the faucet to the tub. “Good water pressure too.”

I smiled gratefully and showed him Olivia's room. It really did look nice. The clouds on the wall were so pretty, and the little white bed looked fresh and bright with the new quilt spread neatly on the top. I told Geoff about the quilt, about how my friends had all contributed blocks to it, hoping he'd pick up on the fact there were a whole cadre of wonderful women in this town who were more than eager to love my niece and make her feel at home. Maybe I didn't have a husband, but I had a “village,” and I knew they would help me raise Olivia.

“Very nice,” Geoff said before opening the closet door and peering inside. My house is old and the closets are small, but Jake Kaminski, who owned the hardware store, had helped me pick out a collection of baskets, shelves, shoe racks, and an extra rod, all in a matching white metal, to maximize the available space. He closed the door and smiled. “What little girl wouldn't love a room like this?”

Wineglass still in hand, Geoff extended his arm in a gallant gesture, indicating that we were done here and could move on. He followed me to the top of the stairs, but stopped me when I started to descend.

“Where is your room? Isn't it upstairs?”

“Oh. Well, yes. Right over there.” I nodded toward the other end of the hall. “But I didn't think you'd care about that.”

“But I do. I want to see everything,” he said.

I walked him past the bathroom again, and the linen closet, then into my room. I switched on the light and set my still-untouched glass down on the top of my bureau. “This is it.”

My bedroom isn't large, so I moved to the far side of the room, sandwiched in the three feet of space between the bureau and the foot of my bed, feeling awkward.

Geoff came into the room, partially but not completely closing the door behind him, and turned in a slow circle, stopping and facing the wide mirror that hangs over my bureau. “This is perfect. Very nice.”

After taking a drink, he put his glass down next to mine, took three long steps toward me, which is all it took to get from that side of the room to mine, and kissed me. Not a peck, not a friendly or questioning kiss or even a romantic one, but a hard, demanding kiss with half-open lips and a probing tongue, with hands bent on doing the same thing.

His breath tasted like wine and old coffee. The feel of his tongue in my mouth, thick and wet and uninvited, made me nauseous. I was shocked, stunned actually, and for a moment I honestly couldn't move. It seemed so unreal. But when one of his hands slid down my hip and started moving up under the hem of my skirt, I came to myself. With one hand, I clamped my fingers around his wrist and with the other I pushed his body away from mine.

“Stop that! What do you think you're doing?”

He smiled languidly and took half a step back, still too close for comfort. “Well, I should think that would be obvious, even to you. I know you're innocent about these things, Margot, I heard that around town, and I think it's sweet. In fact, I find it incredibly arousing. But innocent or not, you can't pretend you don't have some understanding of what's going on.” He grinned. “If only in the broadest general principles. Don't worry. I'll help you fill in the details. I'll be a very good teacher; promise.”

He leaned forward as if to kiss me again, but I braced my hand against his shoulder, blocking his move. “What? You heard around town …”

“Don't act so offended. Word gets around. Even in a city, the supply of virgins over the age of consent is limited.” He reached his hand up with two fingers, brushed the hair out of my face, letting his fingers run down my cheek, to my jaw. “Especially ones as pretty as you. In a town the size of New Bern, where the supply is even smaller, even nonexistent, word spreads quicker.”

The last thing I wanted to do right then was cry, but I couldn't help it; I've always been emotional, even more so when I'm angry. And when I thought about Arnie, who I had trusted, who must have been talking about me, I was furious. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I blinked hard to keep them back.

Geoff, almost as if he could read my thoughts, said, “Don't get mad. It wasn't Arnie. He's too much of a gentleman to spread rumors. And so am I. I promise you, Margot, I won't say anything to anybody. It'll be our secret. I heard it from a guy who heard it from a guy who probably heard it from another guy who you used to date, or maybe whose wife you know. It doesn't matter. You know, I didn't actually believe it at first, but the more I've gotten to know you, the more I figured it must be true.”

He paused and smiled, a strange mixture of excitement and fascination on his face. “It is, isn't it?”

Before I could say anything, he put his two hands on either side of my face and kissed me again, more softly than he had the first time but still insistently, then shifted his weight forward, pushing me down, easing me toward the bed. I pushed back, hard, so hard that his backside hit the bureau and he darned near smacked into the mirror.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“I don't think you heard me before,” I said. “I told you to stop it. I am not interested in sleeping with you. I'm not interested in you at all!”

I got up and moved toward the door, but Geoff stuck out his arm, blocking my exit. His expression was angry, but he fought to soften it and his tone of voice. “Come on, Margot. I'm not buying that. Okay, so you're nervous. I get that. Having remained … shall we say … intact for so long, I can see how you might have second thoughts. But there's no use in pretending you're shocked. You knew why I was coming here tonight. You wanted me to come. You've been leading me on for weeks.”

“I did not! I never led you on!”

“No? What about all those lunch dates? You think most parties in a custody case meet the guardian ad litem once a week, sometimes twice, for cozy lunch dates? I didn't take your parents to lunch every week. And what about the way you flirted with me?”

“I never flirted with you.”

He smirked. “Who are you kidding? All those questions you asked me about my work and my hobbies? You were hanging on to my every word. And the giggling? How you'd laugh at my jokes? Even the ones that weren't very funny.”

“I do that,” I protested. “When I'm nervous. I giggle.”

“And the way you let me go on about my wife,” he said, continuing as if he hadn't heard me. “And what about tonight? I told you that my wife was out of town this weekend. That's why I kept canceling, because she kept canceling her weekend visits to her sister. You can't tell me you didn't pick up on that. Conducting a home study on a weekend isn't exactly usual procedure. You knew what was going to happen. You had to. Nobody is that innocent.”

No. Nobody is that innocent, not even me. I didn't remember him saying anything about his wife being gone for the weekend, but something had bothered me about the idea of him coming over after office hours. But wanting to believe the best about everyone, even Geoff Bench, and, yes, wanting him to like me, not because I liked him but because I was desperate for him to recommend me as guardian, I had ignored the red flags and my own feelings, the discomfort I had felt whenever I was in his presence.

“You misunderstood,” I said. “You misinterpreted—”

“Uh-uh. I don't think so.” He took a step to the right, putting his body between me and the door, and picked up one of the abandoned wineglasses. “I think that after all those years of waiting, you got curious and wanted to see what you'd missed. And now that the moment is here, I think you're just scared.

“It's okay, baby,” he said in a low, even voice, the sort of voice you use when trying to slip a bit and bridle over the head of an unbroken horse. “It's all going to be okay. Shhh. Just relax and let me take the lead.”

He draped his arm over my shoulder and down my back in a half hug, and with his spare hand, he lifted the wineglass to my mouth, tipping the glass up high so the liquid splashed against my lips. I twisted my head to the side, refusing to drink. In one swift move, Geoff put down the glass, slopping wine over the edge, and clamped his arm low around my back, pulling me close. He shifted slightly to the left so he could watch himself in the mirror. The look on his face was lewd and proud and his voice was hoarse. He rocked his hips hard into me.

“Feel that?” he asked.

I didn't think about what I did next; my response was pure instinct. I pumped my leg back as best I could and then forward, as hard as I could, driving my knee straight into his groin. With him standing so close, I wasn't able to get much leverage, but it was enough. He yelled, doubled over, and dropped to his knees, cursing.

“Feel that?” I asked as I stepped over him.

 

Downstairs, I wiped away my tears and tried to collect myself. My first thought was to call someone—the police, my parents, Arnie, someone—but when I picked up the phone and started to dial, I had a second thought—the hearing. And Olivia. That was still the most important thing.

I closed my cell phone and laid it on top of the television just as Geoff, grim-faced and smoldering, descended the stairs. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. I was scared. Surely, after what I'd done to him, he wouldn't want to, perhaps wouldn't be able to, pounce on me again, but I kept a good distance between us, just in case.