A Baby in His Stocking

Lie! Natalie’s voice of reason screamed. If she showed the smallest chink in her Anti-Wyatt Wall, Josie would use it to her advantage. Shrugging, Natalie said, “I’ve had better.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “Mark my words, one of these days you two will discover each other, and when you do—pow!” In the process of waving her arm, she startled the baby into a full-blown wail. “Oops. Shh…” Jiggle, jiggle. “Sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn’t mean to scare you. She was just trying to make Auntie Nat see how much she secretly adores Uncle Wyatt.”

“On that note…” Natalie kissed the crown of Esther’s downy head. “I’m exhausted, but still have a few baskets to make for school tomorrow.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Josie’s expression said she wasn’t buying Natalie’s exit speech. “See you in the morning.”

“Looking forward to it— Oh, and if you get a sec after the festivities, would you mind rounding up any clothes Betsy and Bonnie have outgrown? I’ve got a few families in desperate need.”

“Absolutely,” Josie said, ambushing Natalie in a hug. “Thanks again for coming—and agreeing to be this one’s godmother. It means the world to Dallas and me.”

Natalie was Weed Gulch Elementary’s counselor, where Josie taught kindergarten. Though it wasn’t in her official job description, Natalie made care baskets she delivered anonymously to community families. Usually, she looked forward to organizing donated goods into utilitarian gifts, but as she climbed into her white VW bug all she truly wanted to do—aside from reliving Wyatt’s criminally hot kiss—was take a nice, long nap.

“SINCEWHENAREYOU macking on Fatty Natty?”

Wyatt lowered his cards, giving his old pal Owen Fletcher a glare. “Lay off. Since Dallas married Josie, Nat’s practically family, and I’d appreciate you treating her as such.”

“Touchy,” Owen said, getting up from the table for another beer. “This something we should know about?”

“Yeah,” West Graham piped in, “what happened to the blonde you had hanging all over you less than an hour ago?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Starla was starting to get too serious.”

Owen, a hulking former Weed Gulch and then University of Oklahoma offensive lineman, opened his beer. “Yeah, but you could have had a lot of fun with her on the way to full-on serious.”

“Well, I didn’t feel like having fun with her anymore,” Wyatt grumbled. “Are we here to play or what?”

Owen’s eyes widened. “All right, man. Jeez, what’s wrong with a little fun, is all I’m saying.”

“I don’t know.” In truth, Wyatt did know, but he wasn’t about to spill the secret he hadn’t even shared with his brothers. He tossed chips into the center pot. “I’m in and raise you five.”

West, one of Weed Gulch’s finest fullbacks, tossed in his chips, as well. “Sounds like someone’s trying to change the subject.”

“Not at all.”

Owen added his chips to the pot.

“I’m just tired of chit-chat when I need to focus on taking you two for all you’re worth.” Not to mention getting his mind off Natalie’s kiss.

INHERTEDDY-BEAR-THEMED office Monday morning, Natalie nursed a Sprite while making notes for the school’s upcoming fifth-grade assembly on setting future goals. Before losing the kids to middle school, she drummed into them the importance of choosing a path and then following it. Ironic, in light of the mess she’d managed to make of her own life.

She nibbled a saltine, wishing the computer screen would quit swaying with each rush of nausea. How did she get the memo to her body that morning sickness was supposed to be gone by her second trimester?

Realizing she wasn’t going to make it through reading the next sentence, Natalie dashed for the bathroom. She’d just rocked back to sit on her heels when Cami Vettle, the school secretary, pushed open the door.

“You ever going to admit you don’t have a perpetual flu?”

Managing a sad laugh, Natalie said, “Is it that obvious?”

“To me. But then I spend five mornings a week with you. Who’s the daddy?”

“If I had an ounce of energy—” Natalie rested her head against the cool, tile wall “—I’d jump up from here to smack you.”

“I figured it was that gorgeous UPS guy,” Cami said while passing a paper towel beneath cold water, “but you never know.”

“Seriously?” Natalie groaned in pleasure when Cami placed the towel on her forehead. “You, of all people, know Craig’s the only guy I’ve been with for the past three years.”

After helping Natalie to her feet, Cami said, “When are you getting married?”

“We’re not. The day after I told him our blessed news, he applied for a transfer. I never thought he’d really go, but voilà, five months in and baby’s daddy up and moved to Miami.”

“Oh, no.”

Returning to her office, Natalie stretched out on her sofa.

Cami ruined Natalie’s temporary peace by asking, “What are you going to do?”

In the months she’d had to ponder her situation, Natalie had given that particular question a lot of thought. She’d always wanted to be a mom. Sure, in her little-girl fantasies she’d been happily married when giving birth, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as Craig wanted nothing to do with their child, she looked forward to holding her baby in her arms. “I’ll do the only thing I can—raise my child on my own.”

“What do your parents think?”

Nausea struck again. “It’s my fervent prayer they’re not as observant as you.”

THATAFTERNOON, NATALIE felt much better. She’d managed to eat a little lunch and now stood in the empty auditorium, facing the twenty baskets lining the edge of the stage. She’d already rolled clothes, tying them with ribbon. Now she needed to add food, gift certificates from local merchants, books and toys.

The task she usually enjoyed felt daunting. One thing she hadn’t expected with pregnancy was to be so tired. Not just the kind of slump fended off with coffee, but a deep-down exhaustion that clung to her shoulders, weighing her down. Moodiness was another symptom she hadn’t expected. Everything from a dead fly to a Hallmark commercial made her cry.

She’d never been a fan of formfitting clothes, so hiding her condition for so long had been easier than she’d thought. That said, much more moodiness and it’d be her hormones giving her away rather than her baby bump.

“Hey,” Josie’s voice echoed through the lofty space. “Cami said I’d find you in here.”

“Are your kids in art?”

“Yep. I should be grading, but yesterday’s sugar has me feeling hungover.”

“I know the feeling.”

Familiar with the basket drill, Josie stepped up to help. Tucking canned chili between pint-size blue jeans and a puzzle, she said, “Cami told me you were sick again this morning. Also that you let her in on your secret. What prompted you to finally share your news?”

“I didn’t. Turns out she’d guessed a long time ago. Anyway, it’s not like I can keep my baby a secret much longer.”

Josie attacked Natalie with a hug. Then she grabbed some more cans of food. “Have you been feeling any better?”

“No. I’m tired, cranky and my body refuses to choose between ravenous or nauseous.”

From down the hall in the choir room came muted singing.

Natalie pressed her palms to her suddenly throbbing head.