1225 Christmas Tree Lane

“I am.” There was no reason for them to stay home because of her, either. This crazy adventure of hers was over; she’d admitted defeat. Her brothers were on their way and she’d be back in Seattle in a couple of hours.

“I’d like to meet those young men,” Grace said. “But it sounds as if they’ll get here while we’re at church.”

“You will meet them,” Mary Jo promised. “Sometime after Christmas.” In one short afternoon, she’d become strongly attached to both Grace Harding and Cliff. Her two daughters, her daughter-in-law, their husbands and the grandchildren had made Mary Jo feel like part of the family. They’d welcomed her without question, opened their hearts and their home to her, given her a place to sleep, a meal, the comfort of their company. In this day and age, Mary Jo knew that kind of unconditional friendship wasn’t the norm. This was a special family and she planned to keep in touch with them.

While the fathers loaded up the kids and Cliff brought his car around, Grace lingered.

“You have our phone number?” she asked as they stood by the front door.

“Oh, yes. Cell numbers, too.” Mary Jo patted her pants pocket. Grace had carefully written out all the numbers for her.

“You’ll call us soon.”

Mary Jo nodded. Grace was like the mother she’d lost—loving, protective, accepting. And now that she was becoming a mother herself, she valued her memory even more profoundly. It was Grace who’d reminded Mary Jo of everything her mother had been to her, of everything she wanted to be to her own child. Even though her baby wasn’t born yet, she felt blessed. Because of her pregnancy she’d met Grace, and she was grateful for everything it had brought her. A new maturity, the knowledge that she could rise to the occasion, that she had the strength to cope. This brand-new friendship. And, of course, the baby to come.

“If your brothers are hungry when they get here, there are plenty of leftovers,” Grace was saying. “Tell them to help themselves.”

“Thank you.”

Cliff brought the car closer to the house and got out to open the passenger door. Still Grace lingered.

“Don’t hesitate to phone if you need anything, understand?”

“I won’t—and thank you.” Wearing her coat like a cloak, Mary Jo walked outside with her into the softly falling snow.

“Wait in the house,” Grace said.

“I’ll be fine in the apartment. It’s comfortable there.”

The two women hugged and Grace slid into the car seat next to her husband. Maryellen, Kelly and Lisa, with their families, had already left for the church.

Grace lowered the window. “Thank you for being so patient with Tyler,” she said, giving her an apologetic look.

Mary Jo smiled, completely enchanted with the six-year-old who’d received a drum for Christmas and felt obliged to pound away on it incessantly.

“He’s a talented little boy.” In fact, she loved all of Grace and Cliff’s grandchildren.

“Now go inside before you get cold,” Grace scolded.

But Mary Jo remained in the yard until the car lights faded out of sight. Then, pulling her coat more snugly around her, she strolled toward the barn. Several of the participants in the live Nativity scene were inside a corral attached to the barn and she went there first.

“Hello there, donkey,” she said. “Merry Christmas to you.”

As if he understood that she was talking to him, the donkey walked toward her until he was within petting range. Mary Jo stroked his velvety nose, then walked back inside the barn.

“Hello, everyone.”

At the sound of her voice, Funny Face stuck her head over the stall door.

“Hi there,” Mary Jo greeted the mare. “I understand you’re very special to Cliff,” she said. Funny Face nickered loudly in response.

Apparently curious as to what was causing all the commotion, the camel poked her head out, too. “Sorry, Camel,” Mary Jo called, “but your reputation has preceded you and I’m not giving you a chance to bite my arm.”

After several minutes of chatting with the other horses, Mary Jo washed her hands at a sink in the barn and headed up the stairs to the apartment. About halfway up, her back started to ache again. She pressed one hand against it and continued climbing, holding onto the railing with the other.

When she reached the apartment, she paused in the middle of removing her coat as she felt a powerful tightening across her stomach.

Was this labor?

She suspected it must be, but everything she’d heard and read stated that contractions began gradually. What she’d just experienced was intense and had lasted several long, painful seconds. Another contraction came almost right away.

Mary Jo checked her watch this time. Three minutes later there was a third contraction of equal severity.

Only three minutes.

At the class she’d attended, she’d heard that it wasn’t uncommon for labor pains to start at fifteen-minute intervals. Perhaps hers had started earlier and she hadn’t noticed. That didn’t seem possible, though. How could she be in labor and not know it?