Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber
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read for about ten minutes—until tears unaccountably blurred her vision. She didn’t understand why she was crying. Leaning across the bed to the night-stand, she plucked a tissue from the decorative box.
It was because everything was happening at once, she decided. This untimely pregnancy, and then Paul and their angry exchange the day before, followed by Reese’s unexpected arrival tonight. Her life was a shambles. She’d be the laughingstock of her friends, she thought bitterly. Mrs. Donovan with her white-trash daughter-in-law. Her pregnant daughter-in-law, her love-struck fool of a son and her straying husband.
Still, she was determined to prove to Reese and Paul that she’d be a good grandmother if it killed her.
7
CHAPTER
CAROL GIRARD
Carol was in a hopeful mood as she prepared dinner on Thursday evening. Doug was due home any minute and she was full of news. Cutting a chicken breast into bite-size pieces, she poured soy sauce over the uncooked meat to marinate for his favorite stir-fry.
She smiled when the door opened and her husband entered the condo. “Hi, honey,” he said as he hung up his suit jacket, then joined her in the kitchen. Carol immediately turned into his arms and enthusiastically brought her lips to his. The kiss was long and involved, revealing her eagerness for lovemaking.
“To what do I owe this greeting?” Doug asked, leaning back far enough to take a slow, lingering look at her.
“I had a marvelous day.”
“Tell me what you did,” he said. He loosened his grip on her waist and began to examine the mail, which she’d placed on the kitchen table.
“After you left for work I went for another walk to that yarn store I found on Tuesday. Lydia said it wasn’t necessary until our class tomorrow, but I picked out the needles and yarn for the baby blanket. Just wait till I show you the picture! It’s so cute!” Carol rushed into the other room and produced a pattern and a ball of off-white yarn. “Isn’t this just perfect?”
Doug stared at the yarn as if he wondered how she could possibly get this excited over something so mundane.
“Don’t you see?” she said. “Doug, we’re going to have a baby! I feel so confident. This time everything will be different. Earlier in the week I was thinking I can’t endure this agony anymore. Everything’s been so hard. But all at once I have hope, real hope. Oh, Doug, Doug, we’re going to have a baby.”
She could see that some of her fervor was finally touching him. “A baby,” she repeated, her voice quavering with emotion. She reached for his free hand and pressed his palm against her flat stomach.
Doug’s gaze held hers, desire warming his eyes. He dropped the mail on the floor and wrapped her in his arms. Their kisses were passionate, luxurious. After several minutes of escalating excitement, he drew back slightly and caught her lower lip between his teeth. Familiar with her husband’s wants and needs, Carol slowly undulated her hips, stroking his arousal. She murmured words of encouragement, whispered lewd promises for him alone.
Doug moaned softly and kissed her again. “You know what you do to me when you talk like this.”
“I know what you do to me,” she countered.
He had her blouse unfastened and half off her shoulders when they stumbled into the living room. Arms entwined, they fell onto the sofa, giggling and eager now to finish what they’d started.
“We’ve been married too long for this kind of crazy sex,” Doug said as he jerked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Are you saying you want to wait until later?”
“No,” he growled.
Carol didn’t either. This spontaneity was in stark contrast to the scheduled lovemaking that had become their norm. What had once been impulsive and natural was now as routine, as prosaic, as a doctor’s appointment. Their focus was on timing, on the effort to match her ovulation cycle, their purpose to achieve conception. Now, for the first time in years, their lovemaking was liberated—and liberating. Once he’d dispensed with his suit pants and Carol her slacks, she lay back on the sofa and stretched out her arms to welcome her husband.
Doug lowered himself onto her and Carol closed her eyes at the exquisite sensation as his body linked with hers. This was the way lovemaking was supposed to be. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to feel this urgency. Their purpose was love and hope, and they were drunk on their need for each other.
With Carol’s arms around Doug’s neck, her fingers delved into his dark hair. She whimpered and arched to meet each thrust and gave herself over to the warmth and the joy of their lovemaking.
They held each other for a long time afterward, savoring each moment. Neither spoke, afraid, she guessed, to disrupt the peace of this joining of bodies and souls. Their coupling was an affirmation of their deep-rooted love, of their commitment and their unwavering belief that one day they would be parents. Carol was sure. She’d been convinced of it the day she’d walked into the yarn store and learned the project for the beginners’ class was a baby blanket. It was a sign.
After a while, Doug lifted his head and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
Sated and content, she smiled up at her husband. “I love you, too. I think little Cameron’s going to be very happy with his daddy.”
“Little Colleen, you mean.”
“We could have twins, you know.”
“Good, the more the merrier.”
They continued to gaze at each other until it was too uncomfortable to remain in the same position. After dressing and straightening her blouse, Carol picked up the yarn. Just holding it brought her comfort. She’d knit this baby blanket and with each stitch, each row, her unborn child would feel her love.
The phone rang after dinner while Carol was putting their plates and cutlery into the dishwasher. Doug sat in front of the television, half listening to the news and reading the paper. He lowered the sports pages and saw that Carol had answered the phone in the kitchen.
Caller ID told Carol it was her brother, Rick, a pilot for Alaska Airlines, calling from his cell phone. He was based in Juneau, Alaska, where his ex-wife, Ellie, lived, too. Rick’s schedule often brought him to Seattle, but he rarely had time to see her.
“Hello, big brother,” Carol said, her happiness evident in her voice.
“Carol, you sound wonderful. Are you …?” He hesitated, but Carol knew what he was asking.
“Not yet. Doug and I are working on it, though—all hours of the day and night.” She tossed her husband a saucy look, but he was reading his paper and didn’t notice. “How long are you in town?”
“Tonight and tomorrow this time around. I fly out in the late afternoon. Any chance we can get together? Not necessarily this trip, if that doesn’t work for you, but soon.”
Carol immediately checked the calendar. “I’d love to.” His invitations were few and far between, and she’d make whatever adjustments were necessary to accommodate her brother. “What about breakfast?”
“You know I’m not much of a morning person.”
Carol did remember the trouble her brother had always had getting up for school. “That’s true,” she said.
“What are you doing these days?” he asked conversationally.
“Not much. Doug and I go to the gym three mornings a week and tomorrow afternoon I’m starting a knitting class.”
“Knitting? You?”
“Yes, and if you treat me right, once I learn I’ll knit you a sweater.”
“One of those Irish ones with all the intricate cables?”
“Ah