“I aspire to be just like her, but I’m not there yet. I am pretty good at the multitasking, though. This little angel is number four and the very last one,” she said emphatically. “If another baby sneaks up on us, I swear I’m suing our doctors for malpractice. I made Bobby get a vasectomy. I’ve had my tubes tied for good measure. I’m thinking I should probably stock up on condoms while I’m at it.”
“That surely ought to do it,” Abby said, laughing.
“Hey, would you mind holding the baby for just a minute while I get your drink and place this other order? Little Adam Jackson here—we call him A.J.—is getting fussy. It’s almost time for his bottle. Dad’s good with him as long as he’s on his best behavior, but tears shake him up. And I don’t entirely trust him not to grab the nearest bottle to try to calm him down. Since there are a few too many beers behind the bar, that’s a potential problem.”
Without waiting for a reply, she placed the baby in Abby’s arms. “Iced tea, right? Unsweetened, no lemon?”
Abby was impressed. “Good memory.”
“Not that difficult. We used to drink the stuff by the gallon all year long. That sort of habit doesn’t wear off. Back in a sec.”
She dashed off, leaving Abby to gaze down into the wide blue-gray eyes staring back at her. The weight of the baby in her arms set off a maternal tug that she’d assured herself was long-since dead and buried now that she’d passed forty. She’d wanted children so badly, but it simply wasn’t meant to be. That’s what her husband had told her, his tone so blasted accepting.
Sure, it made sense that her minister husband had taken God’s will at face value, but she’d desperately wanted answers, real, scientific proof that there was a physical reason why they’d had no babies after so many years of trying. Marshall had refused to consider testing, and that had been that. For a man who’d preached about tolerance, commitment and compromise in a healthy marriage, he’d been surprisingly rigid about getting his own way.
Not that their marriage had been loveless or abusive. They’d had a lot of good times, moments of real tenderness. She’d been a better person for having known him, for trying to live up to his ideals. In the end, though, trying to be good, to be the perfect role model and mentor for their parishioners, to do everything in her power to keep from seeing that flash of disappointment in his eyes when she failed, all of it had worn her out. It had sapped the life right out of her.
So, here she was, back in Seaview Key, hoping to find the other Abby, the one who’d laughed freely, who’d dreamed, who’d known passion and embraced life.
She just prayed that it wasn’t too late.
* * *
Seth had responded to two emergency calls in a row, something that rarely happened on Seaview Key.
The first had been an amateur fisherman who’d gotten tangled up with a hook. It had taken only a few minutes to remove the hook and treat the man. It had taken longer to calm his hysterical wife who was sure they needed to be seen by a “real” doctor on the mainland.
The second call had taken both time and patience. Eighty-two-year-old Ella Mae Monroe had called in complaining of chest pains. Since this happened at least once a week, Seth had known she was more in need of calming and companionship than medical treatment. Luke had filled him in on the pattern his first week on the job.
This morning he’d spent over an hour with her, assuring her that her vital signs were strong, that her symptoms were related to anxiety, not a heart attack.
What Ella Mae really needed were friends who’d stop by or activities she could enjoy. He reminded himself to speak to Grandma Jenny about dropping in to visit and maybe inviting her to join some of the other older women in their church groups.
By the time he left Ella Mae’s, it was after noon. Since The Fish Tale was on his way to see Luke, he decided to grab a couple of their excellent grilled grouper sandwiches and take them to the clinic.
He was halfway to the bar to order, when he spotted the woman from the beach sitting in a booth, holding a baby and looking a little shell-shocked. Drawn by some force he didn’t entirely understand after Grandma Jenny’s earlier revelations, he crossed the room.
“Yours?” he asked, earning a startled look.
When she recognized him, her expression brightened. “Hardly. This is Lesley Ann’s little boy, A.J.”
“Ah,” he said, recognizing the baby then. “You were drafted into duty. Lesley Ann’s very clever. Be careful. If you’re good at keeping A.J. calm, you’ll have him for hours.”
She laughed. “Voice of experience?”
“I’ve put in my share of time as impromptu babysitter,” he admitted. “A.J. and I have a deal, though, a pact between guys, so to speak. Twenty minutes and he lets out a scream of disapproval that has his mama flying across the restaurant. He looks pretty content with you. You could be in for a long haul.”
He studied her intently. “You don’t look as if you’d mind that.”
“Not entirely,” she admitted.
“You have kids of your own?”
She shook her head and there was no mistaking the hint of sorrow in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said at once.
“So am I,” she said quietly. “How about you? Do you have children?”
“Never married,” he said, then realized that wasn’t necessarily an answer. “And no children out there, either.”
A smile played on her lips. “I’m glad you clarified.”
“Well, it’s not always the case,” he admitted. “I’ve known plenty of men who are a lot more reckless and casual than I am. By the way, I didn’t get your name this morning.”
“Abby,” she told him.
Despite his certainty that Grandma Jenny had gotten it right, he had to admit he was a little disappointed.
