Jenna Mindel - Falling for the Mom-to-Be

That was no deal. That sounded more like slave labor. Annie started to argue. “Now, look here—”

“Luke, there’s a ladder in the garage,” Matthew cut her off. He hadn’t looked away from her, either. “Why don’t you check out the existing shingles? I’ll be out in a minute.”

Heat infused her body as she stared him down. Any minute now steam was bound to blow from her nostrils. This was still her house! Since when had Matthew turned tyrant?

“Sure.” Luke looked between them and then left.

“You can’t just take over.” Annie’s voice came out shrill.

“I’m helping you.” His eyes blazed with something fierce and protective.

She snorted. “Are you? Are you really?”

“I’m trying to!” He stepped closer and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. But Luke doing this is nothing you need be concerned about. He’s itching to get out of Mom and Dad’s, and Cam and I are gone most of the summer.”

She didn’t like it, but nodded. If Matthew’s little brother welcomed the arrangement, who was she to champion him? Matthew had refused payment from Jack, as well, when they’d talked about doing the roof. It’s what friends did for each other, right?

She remembered the conversation between the two men over pizza. They’d been going through pictures of their scuba-diving trip to the Manitou Islands on a rare week of scheduled time off together. They’d gone through the Manitou passage hundreds of times with the freighter but had wanted to dive the area. Scattered in those northern Lake Michigan waters lay dozens of past shipwrecks that Annie would rather not think about let alone see.

She swallowed a wave of upset. Her nausea came and went. She usually felt fine by afternoon into evening. The doctor had said that her morning sickness was a good sign, but she’d still require close monitoring throughout her pregnancy. She didn’t want to lose this baby after years of trying and failing.

“What is it?” He touched her elbow.

Annie came back to the present. “What?”

“You were far away just now. You okay?”

“Fine.”

He gave her a long look but didn’t push. “We’ll be up on the roof figuring out what we need. It won’t take long.”

“I’d like a copy of that list, you know, so I can pay for the materials.” Annie turned to go. “Oh, and Matthew?”

He leaned against the front door. His presence filled the room. He was only a few inches taller than Jack, yet today Matthew seemed so much larger than her late husband. “Yeah?”

This was harder to say than she’d expected. She didn’t like people doing her favors, but having someone she could trust take care of her roof was comforting all the same. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your door locked.” He gave her a nod and left.

Annie stared at the door and wrestled with that request, knowing he’d made it with good intentions. Matthew was home for only a month before heading back out on the lakes for two or three. By the time he returned home again, she’d be huge. Would she make it that far?

“Please God...” Annie whispered, and then paused.

She hadn’t prayed much lately. In fact, she’d stopped talking to God after Jack’s death. Oh, she’d cried a lot, and even shouted her anger and confusion for losing her husband without notice.

Why’d God take Jack when he’d never been diagnosed with heart disease? As far as she knew, it didn’t even run in his family. How were they supposed to prevent something they had no knowledge of? How was that fair? Wasn’t God supposed to play fair?

But God was God. And God had taken Jack.

Annie’s eyes burned. She was finally going to have a baby. A sweet treasure Jack had wanted for so long. A gift she’d still never be able to give him.

What if God took her baby, too?

Resting her hands on the slightest swell of her middle, Annie didn’t want to think about how she’d abused her body for years to dance. Staying reed-thin for lead parts and lift partners. Punishment, her mother-in-law called it. She’d punished her body for years and that’s why she couldn’t conceive.

Annie’s whisper came out on a ragged breath. “Please Lord, keep this baby safe.”

* * *

The next morning, Matthew walked into the warm kitchen of his parents’ home. His mom stirred something on the stove that smelled like maple so he snuck close and peeked over her shoulder. “What’s for breakfast? Pancakes?”

“Matthew!” Helen Zelinsky clutched the base of her neck and laughed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He spied the saucepan of steaming oatmeal and grimaced. He’d grown up on the stuff and never once ate it since moving out. “Got any bacon?”

“Maybe. Now get out of my way. There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

Matthew didn’t hesitate to fix a cup. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down. The kitchen table had been set with bowls, small glasses for juice, milk and a bottle of maple syrup made in the Zelinsky sugar shack. He knew the routine. A hot breakfast was a must according to his mom no matter what the season.

“Matthew.” His father nodded as he entered the kitchen. “What brings you here this early?”

A tall man who’d retired from a long career in the Army, Andy Zelinsky had started a maple syrup operation years ago. Matthew’s parents spent their golden summers into fall manning booths at craft fairs all over northern Michigan to sell their product. They didn’t do too badly, either.

“I’m picking up Luke. We’re going to work on Annie Marshall’s roof this week.” They’d purchased the supplies they needed and were ready to start. He bent down and petted the cat. Tigger butted his head against Matthew’s ankles, purring like mad.

His father poured juice in a glass. “Nice of you to help out there.”

His parents had gone to Jack’s funeral. They knew the situation. Jack had been to their house with him on many occasions to ice-fish since his folks had inland lake frontage. And Jack had bought Zelinsky syrup every Christmas for Annie.

Midsip of his coffee, he paused and set the cup back down. He’d have to make sure Annie got her half gallon this year. When would the baby be born? Surely, by Christmas.

He grabbed a bowl and spoon. “I was going to help Jack with it this summer, anyway.”

“How is Annie? Poor woman.” His mom set the pan of oatmeal on a pad and then retreated for a plate of bacon from the microwave.

Matthew grabbed a couple slices before she set it down.

His mom slapped his hand. “We need to pray first.”

He popped the bacon in his mouth and gasped. “Hot.”

His mother chuckled. “See, Bozia punish.”

Matthew shook his head. Those were his grandmother’s words. He’d heard them all his life, but this time they stopped him cold. Did God really punish? If so, what might be in store for him for breaking the tenth commandment?

“So answer my question.” His mom gave him a sharp look.

“What question?” He reached for another piece of bacon and set it on his napkin.

“How is Annie Marshall?”

He shrugged. “She’s holding her own.”

How’s a woman supposed to be when her husband recently died? Add a baby on the way and it was a wonder Annie still got out of bed, let alone yammer at him for bringing his brother to work on the roof.

The image of Annie with her hands on her hips flashed through his mind. She was even prettier riled up. Why’d he always notice how she looked?

“So sad.” His mother slipped into a chair and served up oatmeal into bowls.

“Yeah.”

“Hey.” His youngest brother entered the kitchen dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt. At twenty years old, Luke still lived at home when he wasn’t away at college.