Bump in the Night Read online

  They were married, the three of them—that’s what Charlie told everyone. Charlotte adopted him the same day she married his dad, so they were a real, true family now.

  The ink had barely dried on those papers when they were signing again for a pretty three-story Victorian in the university district. All three of them fell in love with the old house and had spent every spare minute and extra dime restoring it. Sam, who’d put himself through college working construction every summer, was a wonderful carpenter. In her opinion, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do with a hammer and a piece of wood.

  “We’re almost there. No peekin.’ ”

  “I promise. No peeking.”

  But when they were halfway down the hall and should have turned left into Charlie’s room, they proceeded on to the next room, an unfinished room they had plenty of plans for but not enough time or money, just yet. She knew when they passed through the doorway as Sam stepped back and used his free hand at the small of her back to guide her safely to the center of the room.

  The first thing she noticed was the soft scent of new paint and wallpaper paste—two smells she now knew as well as coffee and bacon. She felt a soft breeze on her left and heard the gentle rustle of fabric. The window was open and . . . there were curtains. But how—?

  “Okay, Mom. Open your eyes!”

  “Oh!” was all she could say with her heart stuck in her throat.

  They’d finished the room. Sanded and refinished the floors, built in shelves as had been discussed, removed all the old painted trim and replaced it with finished maple to match the floors. The furniture she and Sam picked out and bought together, and had temporarily set up in their bedroom, stood exactly where she’d dreamed of putting it—well, the crib was six inches too close to the window, but everything else was right on. He’d even remembered the pale apple-green walls and the pink buttons-and-bows trim she’d picked out if the baby was a girl.

  “Sam. Sam.” Her eyes welled with tears that were only half-hormonal as she watched him shift their daughter, Lily, from the curve of his left arm into the crib. He fussed with the receiving blanket then put his big hand lightly over the baby’s small torso, clearly checking her breathing and heartbeat, before he turned back to Charlotte. “Sam.”

  “Me, too, Mom, I helped.”

  “You must have or it wouldn’t have gotten done so quickly, and it wouldn’t be nearly so beautiful. Thank you, Charlie.” Still a little fragile from the delivery, she bent at the waist, spread her arms wide and held him tight as he hugged her. He was so sturdy and strong compared to Lily. She kissed the top of his head and he ran off, too excited to stand still.

  “When did you do all this?” Her face glowed as she turned to Sam. “You were with me all day Tuesday and most of yesterday. When did you have time?”

  “I had a little help.” He looked tired but as pleased with his efforts as she was—though when their eyes met she could see it made him even happier knowing she was pleased. “That all-day shopping trip with the girls. Marty’s two-day yard sale. The afternoons you visited Mrs. Kludinski, she’d call when you were on your way home. It was pretty much a conspiracy.” He grinned and it was like dawn again, like a fresh, bright, new day. He had the longest dark eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man, and he’d passed them on to Charlie. If Lily didn’t get them, it would be a crime. “You like it then?”

  “I do. I love it. It’s perfect.” She heard Charlie in his room next door. She glanced at the baby, pale and pink and sleeping peacefully. Mother of two, wife of one, was this really her life? She watched the late afternoon sun stir red in Sam’s dark brown hair, fell in love all over again with the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her. Oh yeah, it was her life all right, and she wouldn’t change a second of it. “The room is perfect. We’re perfect. How can this be?”

  A few happy tears spilled down her cheek, and he chuckled. The only times he’d seen her cry was when she was too happy to do anything else. Taking her hand, he led her across the room to an easy chair that both swiveled and rocked and pulled her down onto his lap.

  “It’s perfect because we both remember what it was like before we had this amazing, huge love in our lives, so we don’t take it for granted.” Palming her left cheek, he dabbed at her tears with his thumb then pulled her close for a sweet lingering kiss. His lips were soft and skilled . . . and sensuous, as if each kiss was a new adventure. She sank into the moment, her head filled with the scent of him and new baby and . . . home. “You are my life, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte. She’d asked him once why he didn’t call her honey or dear and he’d said, “Because Charlotte is like poetry and as pretty as you are.” It worked for her.

  Charlotte smoothed her knuckles down his clean-shaven cheek. This was so much more than she ever dreamed love could be, so much better. Studying the strong features she’d come to know and love so well, she wondered, “What if one of us hadn’t gone to the wedding that day?”

  He shook his head; his gaze was like a caress. “It wouldn’t have mattered. We would have found each other eventually. The moment I saw you I knew I wanted to grow old with you. I knew that I’d love every second of our life together. And there you were, treating my son like a dog.”

  He laughed when her mouth fell open and she gasped. She tugged his earlobe. “He was so cute. I was so glad to hear that the two of you came as a package. And now Lily.” Her voice quivered.

  She let her kiss tell him how deeply she loved him, how happy she was, how thankful she was for the life they were building together. He had no problem reading her and rose up to slant his mouth over hers, pulling her closer and closer until the right side of her body came to rest against him. Cheek to cheek they clung to one another, warm and tender, and they tried to capture that special moment forever in their hearts.

  “Not more kissing again.” Charlie’s high-pitched voice was packed with boredom and repugnance. “I might have to hurl.”

  “Hurl?”

  Charlie’s grin was gapped now that he’d lost his front teeth. “Kevin says that’s the same as barfing.”

  “What happened to ‘throwing up’?”

  “It’s a guy thing,” Sam whispered in her ear. “The worse it sounds, the better it is.”

  “Oh.”

  There was a lot she didn’t understand about guys, a lot she took on faith as being right and true in both boys and men. She knew that the responsibilities of first grade and now the duties of an older brother had taken their toll on Charlie. He rarely spoke of Mel anymore—not that he was gone for good because from time to time she would still hear Charlie talking to him at night before he went to sleep. But he no longer requested a place for Mel at the dinner table or held the door open for him when they went out to play, and, well, growing up was a sad thing sometimes, she decided.

  “I brung some of my old toys in here for that baby to have. All she’s got is stuffed stuff and I’m too old for these now.” A fire engine slipped out of his grasp and he picked it up, dropping a Marble Run Vortex as he did so. “I tried to get my jumping horse, too, but it got stuck in the door. Can you go get it, Dad?”

  Charlotte noticed his beloved Super Stretch Mr. Fantastic and Thing in the heavy armload of miscellaneous toys. His generous heart made hers crack a little.

  “Do you remember that baby’s name?” his dad asked him. Sam gave her a little nudge and helped her to stand before getting up himself. “We need to use it so she’ll know who she is.”

  “Lily.” Charlie shuddered. “It’s a good thing she’s a girl.”

  “That’s for sure. And the one thing we don’t want is for her to wake up. So, why don’t you put all your gifts here on the chair for now, and maybe Mom can go into our room and lie down to rest for a few minutes while you and I cook dinner. Does that sound like a plan?” Walking behind her, Sam put his long-fingered hands on her shoulders, gave a little squeeze and placed a loving kiss on the top of her head before heading for the door.

  “Yes,
it does.” Dumping his possessions on the chair, Charlie leaned toward Charlotte and whispered, “It’s KFC.”

  She laughed silently with him and zipped her lips together to keep their secret, before he trotted off to catch up with his father.

  Charlotte stood over Lily for several long minutes, touching the fuzz of dark hair that capped her head, skimming a finger over the petal-soft skin of her tiny-fisted hand.

  “You can be anything you want when you grow up, you know,” she spoke softly to her daughter. “Even if you make a couple of mistakes along the way, it’s never too late to change. Just keep an eye on your dreams and you’ll make it. I know. I’m proof.”

  She walked softly across the room to the door, heard Sam and Charlie talking and laughing downstairs. Just as she was about to leave the room she caught a hint of spicy cider and fir trees in the air . . .

  And smiled.