Almost Heaven

“Or I could just pull you over the next time you drive through town.”

“Aren’t you funny? Abusing your power as an authority figure.” She teased him in return—she couldn’t help it—as the doors opened to the maternity wing. “Have a good night, Cameron.”

“You, too. Congratulations on becoming an aunt again.”

He was gone; the doors slid shut before she could answer, leaving her alone. The chug and chink of the elevators echoed in the quiet. She turned around, eyes down because she knew what was ahead of her.

The viewing window of the nursery where newborns slept tucked tight in their blankets and beds, their dear button faces either relaxed in slumber or screwed up in misery as they cried. A nurse was lifting one tiny unhappy baby into her arms as Kendra passed by.

Don’t look. Keep moving.

Her feet refused to work, leaving her trapped in front of the window. It hurt to look. It hurt not to look. She admired the tiny babies, their perfectly formed miniature hands, their sweet faces, and envied their lucky parents.

How was it possible to feel happy and sad at the same moment? Happy for the precious new babies and sad because she would never have one of her own.

How could she? She wasn’t ever going to date. Never going to marry. Never trust a man that much.

There would be no babies for her.

The grief struck her as it always did like a boxer’s blow to her sternum. It was her choice, her decision. She couldn’t complain. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself, but when would this consuming longing end?

She turned away before the ache within her could crescendo. Before regret and loss could swallow her whole.

Her sisters were waiting beyond those imposing double doors. Why were her feet dragging? What was holding her back?

It was hard to face how different her life was, from what she’d always thought it would be. That’s what. She’d wanted to be a wife and a mother. A horse-woman, yes, but, oh, to be truly and deeply loved by a good man. To have her own children to love and nurture. What could be more important than that?

Don’t think about what might have been. She closed her eyes, hoped the Lord would help her find the strength to face her family behind those doors without feeling sorrow over the what-ifs in her life. As hard as it was to see what she might have had, she was truly happy for her sisters and their families. To the depth of her soul.

It wasn’t as if she was alone. She was an aunt; she would always have children in her life. She would count the wonderful blessings the Lord had given her.

Not dwell on the ones missing.

She squared her shoulders, forced every piece of grief from her heart. She was ready. Behind that door were her sisters and their husbands and their children. Her warm extended family she loved with all her being.

She refused to feel sad, not tonight. Not when there was so much to celebrate. So much to be grateful for.

Cameron couldn’t stop thinking about the brochure he’d folded and tucked into his shirt pocket. His mind was half on it all during the time he made sure Mr. Anderson had what he needed for the night. Those prices were reasonable. Better than what he’d expected.

I can do this. Excitement zoomed through him as he gave Anderson the number of the hotel his family was staying at. Optimism gave him extra zing as he punched the elevator call button and waited for an empty car in the quiet hush of the corridor.

Money had been tight for a long time, what with Debra’s medical costs and funeral expenses, and selling their house, he’d had to come up with the cash to pay for the closing. He’d worried that buying a horse might be a much more expensive proposition than he could afford, now that his finances were evening out.

The elevator doors opened, the empty car waiting to take him downstairs. He hit the Lobby button and pulled out the brochure as the elevator descended, clicking off the floors.

It had been a long, hard road taking care of Deb, not as hard as the road she walked with her illness. It nearly killed him having to say goodbye to her. Faith saw him through that tough time and after. He’d only been existing, not living. How did a man live with only half of a heart?

Memories tugged him back in time, when he and Deb were newlyweds. Their budget was tight. It had to be. She was finishing up her legal-assistant course at the technical college while he was hoofing it through the academy. Part-time jobs kept them in a small one-bedroom apartment not far from the campus in Bozeman. They had to work to make ends meet, but Deb had made it fun. She was so easy to laugh with. They laughed all the time.

He missed that. He missed the dreams they would talk about over doing the dishes by hand in the cramped kitchen. Deb wanted a sprawling house just out of town, so she could see trees instead of neighbors.

He’d wanted enough land to graze a horse or two on. She’d liked that idea, and wove more dreams of how it would be when times were better, riding their horses in their fields. What a great life they were going to have. Together.

Grief weighed down his soul.

The elevator inched to a halt and the doors whispered open. The outside world beyond the long wall of lobby windows was dark, and he hated the thought of going out in it.

She’d been gone four years, and the pain of heading home to an empty house still ate at him.

Is that going to change anytime soon, Lord?

Then he saw Kendra through a glass partition in the far wall. The overhead light haloed her golden hair and caressed her creamy complexion. She wore a simple T-shirt and her denim shorts, nothing pretty or fancy or extraordinary, and she looked so lovely.

He supposed it was loneliness that made him look. He missed a woman’s presence in his life. The softness and gentleness, the little bottles all over the bathroom counter… He missed all of it.

It was a puzzle, because he’d seen plenty of women over the years. Not one of them made him feel as if the world had simply melted away until there was only her.

She didn’t know he was watching as she leaned against the counter, turning to talk to her sister. She sparkled, laughing, tilting back her head to study the array of cheerful balloons floating just out of reach.

He couldn’t say why that was, but as he strolled through the automatic doors and out into the parking lot, the night didn’t seem as bleak or as lonely as it had been before.

Chapter Three

Squinting against the bold afternoon sun blinding her through the windshield, Kendra set the emergency brake. Okay, how was she going to do this? The cookies were in the back seat, all ready to go, but her sister was in the passenger seat beside her. Michelle was bound to notice what was going on.

If only she’d had more time! The day following Anna’s birth had been jam-packed with errands and work and visits to the hospital. Mom and baby were coming home this evening, and there was a lot of work still to be done.

She’d been lucky to get the cookies baked. By the time she might get the chance to deliver them again all by herself, they would be beyond stale and as hard as bricks.

Please don’t make a big deal over this, she silently begged Michelle, who was rummaging through her purse looking for her lipstick. Good, she was distracted. “You wait right here where it’s cool. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be just a second.”

“Wait! Where are you going? I thought those cookies were for us.” Michelle’s hand, holding the found lipstick, rested on the small round bowl of her pregnant belly. “They’re not for us?”

“Nope.”

“I need cookies.”

“Don’t worry. I saved a small plate for you.”

“But—”

Oh, no, here came the questions! Kendra slammed the door shut before Michelle could get out one more word. Not that she’d succeeded in keeping her mission secret. No, if anything, she was simply delaying an explanation.

Michelle was bound to notice what was going on, since she had a perfect view of the office’s front door. She would be pelted with questions on her return as to why she was leaving cookies for the town’s handsome and available sheriff.

Would Michelle believe the truth? Of course not! The truth was too boring. Her lovely sister would see romantic intent in a simple offering of thanks. Kendra would never hear the end of it.

This is what she got for doing the right thing. She heard the buzz of the window being lowered the instant she set foot on the sidewalk.