Falling for the Mom-to-Be

Matthew chuckled. “Let’s go.”

It was a short drive to Annie’s. The Zelinsky farm lay only ten miles north of town on fifty acres wedged between a small inland lake and state land. By the time they arrived, the truck hauling a rented Dumpster had already backed far into Annie’s driveway. She’d left her car parked out front as he’d asked when he’d called her last night. She’d sounded tired, sad even, but told him she was fine. She was always fine. He’d heard that statement too many times to believe it.

After inspecting the roof yesterday, Luke had suggested they tear off the old shingles that were too worn for an overlay. Matthew had agreed even though it pulled his brother away from his summer job a couple more days. Good thing the kid worked for a relative who happened to own the largest roofing company in the area. They’d pulled a permit and rented a Dumpster lickety-split.

Matthew didn’t want to cut corners and he didn’t want leaks cropping up because he hadn’t been thorough. Like that night Jack had complained after eating those hot wings. Matthew should have offered his friend aspirin instead of antacids. That small move might have saved Jack’s life.

In the backyard, Luke steadied the ladder. He had a couple of garden forks in hand, ready to climb up onto the roof. “Once we’ve stripped off the old shingles, we’ll know for sure the condition underneath.”

Matthew looked through the kitchen window, expecting to see Annie there at the sink. Odd. She hadn’t come out. She knew they were coming this morning. The beeping of the Dumpster delivery would have cued her in to that fact. Was she okay? Or maybe still sick.

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

Luke grinned. “Take your time.”

Matthew ignored the knowing expression on his brother’s face and tried the back door. It opened easily. Unlocked. But then it was nine in the morning and Annie had probably left the door open after she’d moved her car before they arrived. No need to get riled up. Yet.

He poked his head into the laundry room. “Annie?”

No answer.

He stepped into the small kitchen. It smelled like cinnamon. She put that spice in a lot of the dishes she made including her tea. Jack used to complain about Annie nagging him to eat weird stuff like sprouts and tofu sausage. She was something of a health-food nut and nearly vegetarian to boot. She ate fish, though. Annie loved grilled fish whenever he and Jack brought home a load of perch caught ice fishing during the shipping off-season.

“Annie?”

“Hmm?” Her muffled voice sounded from the living room.

“You feeling okay?” He walked softly toward her.

She was curled up on the sofa, sleeping under a knitted afghan. Her thick hair lay in a mass of dark blond waves on the throw pillow. It glimmered like gold, caught in a beam of sunlight streaming through the windows.

He slammed his hands in his pockets to keep from threading his fingers through all that hair.

Surely, she hadn’t slept there all night. Then he noticed the laptop on the floor, lid up but screen dark. And a mess of invoices lay stacked next to it. He recognized the double-M logo of her dance studio, Marshall Movement. She must have been working and had fallen asleep—but it was now nine in the morning. Was she not sleeping well at night?

Quietly, he returned to the backyard. Up the ladder, he joined his brother on the roof.

“Everything okay?” Luke handed him one of the garden forks.

“I don’t know.” Matthew slipped on his work gloves and started tearing off old shingles. They tossed them in the rented Dumpster as they went. “She’s sleeping.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “You went upstairs?”

“She was on the couch.” Matthew tried to shrug off his concern, but it stayed close and pestered.

Annie could take care of herself. He knew that. But was she? He’d never known her to look so pale and weak. Was that due to morning sickness, or was grief dragging her down, too? Matthew aimed to find out and help where he could.

* * *

“Lunch is here,” Annie yelled up the ladder, squinting in the bright sunshine.

Matthew’s head popped into view. “Lunch?”

“Pizza. I had it delivered.” Annie felt pretty good considering her morning was officially shot. She had woken up at seven, fallen back asleep and now it was noon. Her first dance class wasn’t until two this afternoon, so she had time to get a few things done before she left.

The guys climbed down the ladder, washed up at the laundry room sink, then joined her on the back deck.

“Thanks.” Luke popped the lid of the pizza box and dug in.

Matthew poured a cup of pop from the two-liter.

“There’s water in the cooler, too. Help yourself. It’s supposed to be hot today.” Annie grabbed a water bottle and sat down under the market umbrella that shaded her deck table and chair set. She had to eat something, so a handful of crackers and some plain Greek yogurt would have to do. She hoped.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Matthew pulled two slices of steaming pepperoni-and-cheese onto a paper plate and sat next to her.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell of grease. “Not sure I can do pizza even picking off the meat.”

He gave her meager lunch a long look. “Did you eat this morning?”

Annie wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I had a little something.”

“What?”

Her eyes flashed. “Toast, okay?”

“Dude—” Luke started, but Matthew silenced him with a hard look.

Annie was glad Matthew didn’t defend his overbearing concern, but she gave his brother her sympathy. “He thinks he’s helping.”

Luke laughed and bit into the steaming pizza.

While the men ate, Annie looked over her backyard. She usually put in a small garden in the corner. Memorial weekend had always been her planting time, but she hadn’t so much as tilled the soil yet. Too tired. When would she stop feeling so tired?

And alone.

She was used to Jack gone for months at a time out on the lakes, but knowing he’d never come back had set her adrift.

She spotted strips of torn shingles hanging from the Dumpster and littering the ground where the guys had missed. Too easily, she could picture her husband making jokes about their aim and her heart twisted.

“Thank you for lunch.” Matthew’s serious-sounding voice caught her attention.

She looked at him. His nose was sunburned. The yellow T-shirt he wore was damp and dirty in spots, but he smelled good, like fresh air and sunshine. She even sniffed a hint of spice when he moved.

Matthew was definitely a handsome man but she had no business noticing. So why’d she feel this pull toward him? Was it their shared grief or her crazy hormones kicking in? How could she find him attractive so soon after the husband she loved had died?

He looked at her, too, his gaze locked with hers.

He was never far from her thoughts these days. Could Matthew read them, too? She cleared her throat. “It’s the least I can do considering the work you guys are doing. How does it look up there?”