“Anna, I love it. Thank you so much.” I held the sleeper to my chest.
“I thought it might make a nice coming-home outfit.” The older woman smiled.
“Anna, didn’t I tell you that Alison’s giving birth at home?” Emma piped up.
“Oh, did you?” Anna shook her head. “Well, either way, I hope he or she wears it in good health.”
“Thank you,” I said again, and then raised my voice a little bit to be heard about the low-level chatter. “Thank you, everyone. I can’t tell you how much all of this means to me. To us.”
There was a smattering of applause and a swell of voices as women began to stand up or turn to others to continue conversations. I sighed, wondering how a woman like me had gotten so lucky.
Here I sat in a comfortable, cushioned rattan chair, surrounded by my friends and their generosity, feeling their undeniable affection. Me, Alison Wakely, the loner, the girl without a family.
When Emma had asked if she could host my baby shower, I’d been hesitant. I’d told her that I didn’t have enough friends or family to throw a party like that. I’d protested that this was a very non-traditional pregnancy, and maybe I shouldn’t be flaunting my unwed state with a shower.
I’d finished laying out all the reasons why we shouldn’t have a shower only to have Emma calmly tear each one apart. She’d promised me that I had more friends than I might have thought. She’d said that those friends were eager to celebrate both me and my baby. And she’d sent me a reproving glance at my last excuse.
“Alison, it’s the twenty-first century, not the eighteen-hundreds. No one cares if you’re married or not. You and Noah both love the baby you’re bringing into the world, and you’re doing it in a mature, healthy way. Why shouldn’t we be celebrating?”
As I looked around now, I was so glad I’d let her convince me. Sitting here with me today were my friends and former co-workers from St. Agnes and the women who worked for me at my practice now. A few old colleagues from Philadelphia had even flown down for the party, which had moved me to real tears. Jenny Angelos, who’d worked at St. Agnes as the other nurse practitioner before moving to Virginia with her husband Nico, was here, too. And to my surprise, Tom’s mother and sister had sent a gift as well, along with a card filled with their best wishes and love.
Noah and Deacon had been wandering in and out of the party since I’d begun opening gifts. Deacon teased that they were afraid to linger too long, lest the overflow of estrogen began to affect them.
Now, though, Noah appeared beside me, leaning down to examine the sleeper from Anna. He also handed me a refilled glass of water.
“Drink up,” he murmured as he straightened. “Opening presents is thirsty work.”
“Thank you.” I took a long sip, sighing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever become accustomed to the way Noah took care of me. He kept his eye on me all the time, it seemed, making sure I wasn’t overdoing anything and that I ate and drank on schedule. He wasn’t pushy or creepy about it, which I appreciated. I never felt as though he was overstepping boundaries—just that he cared about me.
“We’ve got quite a haul here.” He surveyed the mountains of gifts. Emma and Deacon had given us a car seat and stroller combo. Deacon had informed us that it was the most highly rated, safest system around. I’d hidden a private giggle at how seriously he’d taken his research.
“I know. We might have to rent a truck to get it home.” I smiled up at him, arching my neck to see him better.
Noah dropped to his haunches next to me and laid one large hand over my bump. “Is the little one excited about all the good stuff?” As the baby wriggled and kicked—probably because the ice water was hitting—he grinned. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
As it always did whenever Noah was near—and especially when he touched me, which happened far too often for my comfort—my heart stuttered and skidded. The place where his hand lay felt warm, as though I’d been branded. I drew in a shaky breath and tried to get my crazy hormones under control.
“Hey.” I lowered my voice and bowed my head so that my hair fell in waves alongside my face. “Is it just me, or is Emma acting kind of odd?”
“In what way?” he asked, reaching out to brush a curl away from my eyes, making me shiver.
“I don’t know. She was fine, and then about an hour ago, she started looking at the door and jumping up whenever people come in. It’s like she’s expecting someone.”
“Huh. I hadn’t noticed.” Noah frowned. “Are you doing okay otherwise? Do you need something else to eat?”
I shook my head. “If I take one more bite, I might explode. Everything was so delicious.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.” He laid his hand on mine briefly before he stood up. “Deacon and I are just watching a baseball game in the living room.”
“Who’s winning?” I asked. Since baseball was a sport I’d followed since high school, Noah and I had been enjoying a teasing rivalry over the last few months. I was a San Francisco and Philadelphia fan, while Noah was loyal to Milwaukee and Tampa Bay.
“That’s not a question I’m prepared to answer,” he retorted dryly. “Just take my word—” He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes fastened on the steps that led from the yard to the porch. The red-headed woman holding the huge gift basket, slowly climbing those steps, looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her until I heard Noah breathe one word.
“Mom.”
Emma hurried over to greet Mrs. Spencer with a hug, glancing over her shoulder at us with some trepidation.
“Noah.” With no small amount of difficulty, I clamored to my feet. “I didn’t know—what’s she doing here?” I was aware that Noah had been slowly and cautiously reaching out to his family in the past few months. After the disastrous news report about us had hit the wires, he’d told them a little about the baby and about me, but he hadn’t invited anyone to visit, nor had he made any trips north.
