FIFTEEN
LUKE WATCHED AS CLAIRE ANSWERED her phone, trying to see if the news was good or bad. Instead of making wedding plans and picking out china, she’d convinced him to work on the Chestnut Street house. He’d loved her idea of using her crew for some of the work. He knew it helped her keep her guys busy until they were ready to start the Norfolk property, and it kept him from having to find a tower to lock her in because she insisted on working too hard. Or rather, from working harder than he wanted her to. She wasn’t reckless; she was determined and focused, almost to a fault.
But even with her crew making significant progress, she was too hands-on to let someone else do all the work. Hence, the Saturday visit to go over rough in layouts for the bathroom, including the additional one they were adding, and the kitchen. He could be grateful she hadn’t insisted on helping with the demo. Her crew had done most of that, and if they found a body no one said anything. At least the smell was gone.
They’d also been trying to find a time to tell Claire’s father about the wedding and the baby. It was funny. He never thought of himself as all that traditional, but he would have liked to ask her father for his blessing. The Alzheimer’s that was slowly killing him made that impractical. It also made it hard to find a time during which her father would be lucid enough to understand what was going on. They’d tried twice, unsuccessfully, before Becky, Mr. English’s nurse, said it might be easier if she called Claire when he was having a good day. From the hopeful look on his fiancée’s face, today was the day.
He made the drive across town to Oakwood Manor with Claire practically vibrating in the seat beside him.
“You’re not nervous are you, sweetheart?”
He knew that they weren’t doing things in the usual order. Love, marriage and a baby carriage had gotten shifted around a bit, but all the pieces were still there. And if Luke hadn’t looked like ideal husband material a couple of months ago, Claire’s father would have to know that at least by marrying him, she’d be taken care of no matter what.
“Not nervous exactly,” she said. “I want him to understand and know how much I love you and how happy I am. And I want him to be happy about the baby. I’m just never sure what to expect.”
He’d watched the way it tore at her heart the other times they’d tried to tell her father. It killed him to see her hurting. He would have given anything to fix it for her, but it didn’t matter how much money or power he had. This wasn’t something he couldn’t fix.
“Becky wouldn’t have called if she didn’t think this was the right time, and if it isn’t, we’ll keep trying until it is,” he said, giving her thigh a squeeze through the denim of her overalls.
As their baby grew, she’d ditched her jeans in favor of overalls for work. She said they made her look like an oompaloompa. It might make him a little twisted, but he thought they were sexy.
He glanced over and saw her nod. “Okay. You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“Oh, to have a recording of you saying that,” he said with a grin.
“Don’t get used to it.”
By the time they pulled into the lot at the nursing home, either she’d become hopeful or resigned to whatever was going to happen. Either way, she seemed more relaxed. He took her hand, and together they walked through the front doors and down the hall to her father’s room. Becky met them at the nurse’s station.
“Don’t you look adorable. You’re glowing and growing.” The older black woman put her hands on Claire’s stomach and smiled. “Have you felt the baby kick, yet?” she asked Luke.
“Not yet.” It wasn’t for lack of trying. He rested his hands on her belly every chance he got and talked to the baby all the time. The doctor said everything was okay, and he could tell when Claire felt movement because her face took on a dreamy expression, almost like she was listening hard to a conversation he couldn’t hear. But he hadn’t felt so much as a nudge from his child.
“Don’t worry. It’ll happen soon. Sometimes it takes longer with first babies. Your daddy should be ready for you,” she said, turning her attention back to Claire. “I was just in there to tell him you were coming, and he was clear and looking forward to seeing you. Would you like me to go back with you?”
“No, that’s okay, Becky. Thank you,” said Claire.
They walked down the hall to her father’s room and Claire knocked softly on the door.
“Come in,” said the voice on the other side.
When Claire opened the door her father’s face lit up, then his gaze landed on her belly and Luke and his expression grew guarded.
“Hi, Daddy,” Claire said, leaning in to kiss her father’s cheek.
“Sir,” said Luke, offering the older man his hand. He found himself nervous, not a usual feeling for him.
Mr. English glanced to his daughter’s hand and must have seen the ring there because his face relaxed.
“It looks like you two have been busy,” he said with what could have almost been called a smile.
“You remember Luke?” Claire asked and her father nodded.
“Your client,” her father said.
“Your future son-in-law and the father of your grandbaby,” said Claire with a combination of steel and love.
Her father looked back at her, not giving an inch, and he could see where she got some of her fire from. And then his expression softened, and Luke heard Claire draw in her breath.
