A Forever Kind of Family

“No need to apologize,” Kenna assured her. “You had a lot of more important things on your mind that day.”

“Whee!” Oliver demanded.

“Whee!” Jacob echoed.

Kenna chuckled and Harper pulled back Oliver’s swing and set it in motion.

“How is Oliver doing?” Kenna asked.

“The days are good,” Harper said. “But he still wakes up in the middle of the night almost every night crying for his mama.”

Kenna’s eyes misted. “Poor fella.”

Harper nodded.

“That’s got to be hard on you, too. I remember how constantly exhausted I was before Jacob started sleeping through the night.”

“Thankfully, because I have to get up so early, Ryan has been dealing with most of the middle-of-the-night stuff.”

“That’s right—he told me you work on Coffee Time with Caroline,” Kenna recalled.

“Do you watch it?”

“Faithfully,” Kenna assured her. “I started tuning in when I was on mat leave and I got hooked, so when I went back to work in the fall, I had to DVR it.”

“Went back to work doing what?” Harper asked.

“I teach science at South Ridge High School.”

“Sounds challenging.”

“It’s a piece of cake compared to being a stay-at-home mom,” Kenna assured her. “And yet there are still days—most days, in fact—when I wonder if I made the right choice. But school will be out for the summer in eight weeks, and then I’ll be able to devote myself to being a wife and a mother.”

“Who looks after Jacob while you’re working?”

“Daniel mostly works from home now, and his mother helps out a lot. Early on I suggested that we look into day care, and she was devastated to think that I’d prefer to have strangers looking after her grandson. Which wasn’t true, of course—I was just worried that it might seem we were taking advantage of her.”

“It’s nice to have family support,” Harper agreed.

“You’ve got it, too, you know,” Kenna told her.

She nodded. “And I’m grateful. I honestly don’t know how we would have managed without the help of Ryan’s parents, especially those first few days after the accident.”

“I can’t imagine,” Kenna said sincerely. “I had nine months to get used to the idea of having a baby. Actually, forty weeks and two days, since Jacob wasn’t in any hurry to be born. And during that time, I read everything I could about childbirth and babies and what to expect and I thought I was prepared. But the reality is, no one can ever completely prepare you for the joy and responsibility of being a mother—as I’m sure you’ve already realized with Oliver.”

“I’m not his mother,” Harper felt compelled to point out—partly because she didn’t want anyone to think she was trying to take Melissa’s place in her son’s life and partly because the title of mother terrified her even more than the responsibilities of being a caregiver.

“Maybe not biologically,” Kenna acknowledged. “But in every other way that matters.”

Harper knew it was true, and she felt a pang deep in her heart for the little boy who would never really know the woman who had given him life or how very much she’d loved him. She would tell him, of course. She would do everything in her power to ensure that he never forgot his mother, but she knew that he was too young to really hold on to any of the memories that he had.

“When Melissa asked me to be his godmother, I didn’t hesitate. She was my best friend, and I loved Oliver from the minute he was born. But I never thought I would actually have to do anything more than take him on occasional trips to the zoo or museums and buy him fabulous presents.”

“I’m sure she thought the same thing,” Kenna said sympathetically.

* * *

Ryan worked late that night, and when he got home, Harper was getting Oliver’s bedtime snack of oatmeal and banana ready.

They chatted a little about their respective days—he told her about the plans for Garrett Furniture’s upcoming annual summer picnic and she told him about meeting Kenna and Jacob at the park. Though the conversation was easy, he detected a hint of coolness in her tone—the likely cause of which was revealed by her next comment.

“The receipt for your dry cleaning is on the counter,” she told him as she settled Oliver into his high chair. “Along with the note from Nadine Deacon that was in the pocket of the jacket you wore for the funeral.”

He’d forgotten about the note—probably two seconds after Nadine had slipped it into his pocket.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I actually thought you’d managed to refrain from hitting on women at your best friend’s funeral.”

Her comment chafed, as she’d no doubt intended. Maybe he did have a reputation for enjoying the company of various and beautiful women—and he wasn’t going to apologize for it—but he wasn’t an indiscriminate womanizer.

“I didn’t ask for her number—she gave it to me and told me to call if she could help with anything.”

“Oh, well, that’s different, then,” she said, in a tone that indicated it was not. “Although I’m not sure that Brittney would agree.”

“Bethany,” he reminded her.

Oliver blew a raspberry, spraying cereal and banana out of his mouth. Harper used his bib to wipe his chin, then offered him another spoonful.

“And you’re hardly in a position to criticize me when you were chatting up the long-haired guy with the polished loafers.”

“Simon Moore was the real estate agent who sold this house to Melissa and Darren. He came to pay his respects.”

“Are you saying that he didn’t give you his number?”

“He gave me his business card,” she acknowledged. “In case we decided to sell.”

“We’re not selling their house.”

She scraped the last of the oatmeal out of the bowl. “That’s an emotional rather than a rational response.”

“How would you know?” he challenged.

She stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re so damned rational about everything, I sometimes wonder if you feel anything.”

“I feel plenty. I just don’t think it’s necessary to share my emotions with everyone around me.”

“I’m not everyone—I’m the man you’re helping to raise a child with,” he pointed out, his voice tinged with frustration.