Falling for the Mum-to-Be

She had no choice.

Chapter Three (#ulink_625935a8-4891-53b1-8de3-61c0c73a2cf8)

It had been four days since Leif had told Marta about his wife and she’d told him about the pregnancy—and they’d shared a special moment. But she’d pulled back. He’d gotten up each morning and left for work before she was awake, though a time or two he’d heard her losing her cookies before he’d left. When he came home, he’d walk the dogs. Inevitably, by the time he’d gotten back she’d have left a note on the kitchen counter saying she’d already eaten and not to cook for her.

Mostly, she’d stayed in her studio. He knew she was working hard at placing the grid on her preliminary mural, but wasn’t she getting cabin fever? The most surprising part was how he’d already missed what little interaction they’d had those first couple of days. Here he’d been living as if he didn’t need anyone anymore, yet her presence made him hungry for companionship. What was that about?

He didn’t think less of her because she was pregnant, but did she think he did? Maybe it mattered to her that he was a man who’d never managed to get his life back on track once he’d lost his wife. Or maybe she felt as though she’d told him too much and wanted to keep things on a different level. He couldn’t figure out the change in her by guessing, that was for sure.

One thing he did know—he owed her some kind of explanation about why she was blocked with her painting. It wasn’t her imagination; there was a reason and she deserved to hear it, yet he’d kept her dangling in the dark. Sure, there was going to be a town-wide meeting tomorrow morning breaking the news, but why let Marta think she was a little cuckoo for having those weird feelings about the beginning of Heartlandia’s history for one more day? Besides, it would give him an excuse to draw her out of the artist’s cave.

She was one perceptive woman, and he hoped his reason for asking her to take a ride with him right now wasn’t nearly as transparent as he suspected it might be. He missed her and wanted to spend some time with her. Was that a crime? Something about her, besides her good looks, called out to him.

Whatever the reason, it was only three o’clock on a beautiful day. Why not take advantage of it? He rushed up the steps and tapped on the studio door.

“Come in,” she said softly.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” He entered the studio, aware of the huge mess. “How are you?”

“Doing well.”

That was not how she looked. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to have some kind of glow or something? She looked pale and tired and maybe even a little thinner than when she’d first arrived. How long was morning sickness supposed to last?

“The grid almost done?”

She nodded. “I’ll be ready to go by next week. I’m going to work backward with the painting, like we talked about, and see what happens when I get to the beginning.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

“I’m just not sure how much space to leave.”

“I guess that’s something to take into consideration.”

Her eyes drifted back to the grid with a fretful stare. Maybe he could make her day a little better.

“Oh, hey, I was just thinking it’s really nice out and you’ve kind of been cooped up in here for a few days, and the dogs and I are going to—”

“Sure, I’d love to.” She went to the sink and washed her hands.

He cocked his head and suppressed a smile. “How do you know what I’m asking?” Did she always cut people off?

A light, teasing laugh trickled from her lips. It was really great to hear it. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit, but I was pretty sure you were going to invite me along, right?”

“You happen to know where we’re going, too?” He couldn’t resist teasing her, and when she laughed at his playful dig, he grinned.

“Maybe I am psychic after all.” She smiled for him and the bright studio got even lighter. “Let me get my purse and I’ll be right with you.”

It felt great to talk to her again, and he looked forward to spending time with her. He planned to take her to his favorite place, a small park just before the Ringmuren where the view of the river was spectacular.

“I’m ready,” she said a couple of minutes later, popping out of nowhere, a baggy olive-green sweatshirt over her white work shirt and worn jeans. She’d run a brush through her hair, too, and the sun from the skylights cast a bright sheen over the raven-colored waves.

“Let’s go, then.”

* * *

The view of the Columbia River was magnificent from this vantage point. Marta would have believed it if Leif told her it was the Pacific Ocean because the opposite bank was nowhere in sight. And farther south in the distance, the Astoria-Megler Bridge looked as if it was a hundred miles long. Wow.

She inhaled fresh air and felt less queasy than she had in days. The dogs frolicked around the park without cares, and their antics made her laugh. “Do they ever get tired of chasing that Frisbee?”

“Never,” Leif deadpanned and tossed it again.

He struck her as a solid guy, one who carried on no matter how tough the going got. He’d already been through hell; anything else must seem trivial.

“Let’s sit over here.” He pointed to a bench at the end of a pretty walkway surrounded by flowers. Though it was hard to tear her gaze away from the river, she followed him.

When they arrived, Marta realized the bench was a memorial to Leif’s father. “You put this here?”

He nodded. “Dad always liked this view.”

After only knowing Leif for a short time, Marta suspected there were a couple other perfectly placed benches in Heartlandia for his mother and wife, too. A pang of sorrow over her mother caught her off guard. Maybe she’d call her father later to catch up. “Well, it certainly is fantastic. This is a lovely part of the country.”

“Agreed.”

“You’ve never wanted to leave?”

“I considered it in my late teens, but then my dad offered me the apprenticeship and I had the good sense to recognize a solid future when I saw it. Then after Ellen died, I thought I’d get the hell out of Dodge, but something held me back.” He’d been facing the vista, but now he turned and engaged Marta’s questioning stare. “All my memories are here, you know? If I left, I’d feel like a huge part of me was missing. Where’s a guy supposed to go from there?”

How different that was from her need to break the chains of her overbearing parents when she was a teen. She’d left home for college and never looked back. She’d thought of her mom and dad as old-fashioned and wanted nothing to do with their lifestyle. Leif honored his parents and their memories. She loved and missed her mother and decided right on the spot that when she finished the mural she’d paint a series of pictures dedicated to her. Some might say it was too little too late, but hopefully her father wouldn’t be one of them.

“So you get comfort knowing your loved ones once existed here,” she said.

He agreed, then tapped his chest. “And here. Always.”

“But you take your heart everywhere you go.”

“True. But there’s actual evidence of my mother and father and Ellen here. I guess I’d worry my memories would fade faster if I went somewhere else.”

There was that urge again to reach out and touch him, to take hold of his hand and squeeze, to let the man know he wouldn’t always be alone, but could she guarantee it? At this point in her life, she felt completely alone, too, and the fact she was staying in Leif’s house helped smooth out those rough feelings, but there was no guarantee she’d ever find anyone to love again, either.

Something about Leif called out to her. He deserved so much more than what life had dealt him.

“Listen,” he said. “I wanted to clear the air about something.”

That got her attention. They needed to clear the air already?

“We’ve recently come to find out our town’s story isn’t exactly the way our history books tell it.”

“What are you talking about?”