Holly Jacobs - Homecoming Day

After she’d died, his parents’ words of sympathy had felt hollow. Every word of comfort they tried to offer, every gesture had set Seth’s teeth on edge because all he could do was remember that they hadn’t wanted him to marry her. He tamped down that old anger and concentrated on the here and now.

Since his brother Zac had gotten married, he’d been around his family more than he’d been in years. He’d made an uneasy truce with his parents for his brother’s sake.

It wasn’t the same relationship they’d once had, but it was a relationship. That would have to do.

LAURA LOVED HER SMALL house within walking distance to the school. When she’d bought it three years ago, she’d enjoyed decorating and arranging everything. It was perfect.

This room was not.

She stood at the door to what was once the guest room and now would be a nursery. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like either at the moment. It looked like a storage room. A very disorganized storage room at that.

There were boxes and bags everywhere. For the last month she’d meant to come in and start sorting everything she’d bought for the baby’s arrival, but every time she tried, she got as far as opening the door, then she’d simply shut it and back away.

It wasn’t fair.

She was supposed to be doing this with Jay.

He was supposed to be here with her. They’d have called his parents, told them to come over and made a day of it. She’d have baked lasagna, and that crunchy garlic bread Jay liked so much. The aroma of it would have filled her small house and the sound of laughter would have filled every room as well.

They’d decided to live here for a few years and save money for something bigger. She always told Jay that the small size simply made the house more cozy. And on that day, it would have been cozy. Jay, his parents and her pregnant belly would have filled the house to the point of overflowing.

The thought of how it should have been hurt. It was a crippling pain that had the ability to take her breath away.

She put the pain aside, though, and concentrated on how it was now.

And how-it-was-now was that JT was going to paint a beautiful mural, and Seth was going to assemble the baby’s furniture.

How-it-was-now, was that she was going to gather all the baby’s clothes and wash them, then fold them and put them in drawers.

Laura forced herself into the room and pulled a bunch of Onesies out of a box. She’d ordered them from an online store. It’s how she’d bought most of the baby’s things. It seemed so much easier than traipsing to stores and having people ooh and aah over her ever-expanding stomach. Each time someone did that, she was hit anew with the thought that Jay should be there.

Stop.

She needed to stop thinking about Jay.

Which sounded so simple and was anything but.

She pulled out a Onesie. It had a picture of Einstein and the caption said Brilliant Minds Have Bad Hair Days, Too. She smiled. She could do this.

She marveled at how small the tiny sleepers were. Within weeks, Bbog would be wearing them as she held him or her.

She took off tags and filled the laundry basket with the baby’s clothes, then struggled to her feet. She was so ready not to feel like a turtle who was stuck on his back, scrambling to find some way to right himself.

The doorbell rang.

Basket in hand, she opened the door to Seth.

He looked different out of uniform. Approachable.

Cute.

Thinking of Seth Keller as cute was disconcerting at best, downright disturbing at worst.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked by way of a greeting.

For a moment she worried that he knew she’d thought he was cute, but he came in, shut the door behind him and stared pointedly at the basket in her hand.

Laura felt a flood of relief. “Laundry? I mean, I’d have thought it was evident, but maybe not.”

“You shouldn’t be carrying anything.” He took the basket from her hands.

“I can carry a basket of baby clothes. They weigh less than the grocery bags tend to.”

“You shouldn’t carry those eith—”

She was saved from another lecture and more disturbing thoughts about the man’s cuteness when the doorbell rang.

Laura opened the door to find the once again scrubbed-looking JT wearing oversize denim overalls and a tight white shirt, carrying a small bag. Her mother was in the car and didn’t look as if she was going to get out.

“Hi, Ms. Watson. Let’s make some pretty pictures.”

Seth put the basket down and went past them to JT’s mother’s car. He talked to her for a minute, then returned to the house. “I told her I’d take you home, if that was okay, and it was.”

JT nodded. “Thanks. So, Ms. Watson, wanna show me the room?”

SETH LISTENED TO JT and Laura chatter away about painting techniques and the mural as he opened up the box that contained the crib. The instructions may as well have been in Greek.

Now, he was sure Greek was a fine language. He had friends who were Greek and Lori and Tony had a habit of calling each other Greek endearments, which he was sure Laura and JT would think was sweet. But he wanted his instructions in English. Not rocket scientist English, but rather plain old everyday English.

He examined the parts, assessing what he had and trying to picture what he had to do in order to turn them into a crib.

Laura left to start a load of baby clothes in the machine, and he said, “JT, look at this paragraph. See if it makes sense to you.” He thrust the instructions at the girl.

She studied them for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

“Could you read that paragraph while I try to follow along?”

JT studied the text, then shook her head. “No.” She turned her back on him and started to sketch outlines on the wall.

He looked up and saw Laura standing in the doorway with a puzzled expression on her face as she stared at JT. “Why don’t I help you?” she asked him. Laura read the instructions, step-by-step. And gradually, he made progress. She held a side as he screwed the headboard in place.

Forty-five minutes later, they had a crib.

“I’m gonna paint soon, Ms. Watson. You shouldn’t be in the fumes.”

“Okay. I’ll make lunch.” Seth jumped to his feet and offered her a hand. At first, he thought she wasn’t going to take it, but good sense won out and she did. He got her to her feet and she headed into the hall.

Seth hung behind. “Can I do anything to help, JT?”

JT shook her head. “Nah. I like working on my own.”

“I get that. But sometimes everybody needs a hand. Remember, I’m here. So’s Ms. Watson. We’re here to help with whatever you need.”

JT turned toward him. “I know we’re talking about more than helping with a mural. You’re trying to be real sly and make sure I know that you two care. I sort of already figured it out. I don’t know why. Why do you like me? I’m not the kind of kid most cops latch on to. And I can’t figure out why Ms. Watson likes me. She’s the only teacher at the school who does.”

“That’s not true.”

JT snorted. “Yeah, it is. Of course, I’m a pain in the ass in class. I don’t turn in homework and don’t apply myself. I’m disruptive and according to one very helpful teacher, there’s a chance I’m heading for a life of crime. She’s got a whole list of things I do and don’t do. Most of the time what I do do, I shouldn’t. And what I don’t do, I should. It’s no way to endear yourself to the powers-that-be. I guess they have a reason not to really like me, which only makes it weirder that Ms. Watson seems to.”

“So, why not apply yourself?”

“Why should I?”