Mom Over Miami Part 25

Convulsions? No. But she did suddenly have the urge to bang her head on the floor in humiliation. "I see."

"Oh, don't take it personally, Hannah. It's a good idea but it's just-"

Don't take it personally? How could she not? The most together mom in the world, whose son had actually bragged about her homemade goodies, who had literally caught Hannah spreading s.p.a.ckling compound on a children's cake, had just invoked the F-word-frosting!

"Besides, these frogs will make more money, and we can store whatever we don't sell in the garage, unlike most baked goods."

Most baked goods. Not yours, Hannah. Yours would be right at home on a workbench, but the rest of ours...

"I understand."

"I knew you would. Not like you have time to bake right now anyway, not with the big trip just looming."

"Looming. Good word."

"You don't sound enthused."

"Oh, I am. I...am."

"But?"

Hannah picked up another limp froggy and skimmed her fingers along the quarter-inch seam. "Stilton's your only child, isn't he?"

"Oh, I get it." Lauren slipped orange plaid fabric over itself and deposited another finished frog body onto her growing pile. "Worried about leaving the kids behind, right?"

"No." Hannah's second attempt fell into her lap half-done. "Worried about bringing another one home with us."

"Oh, Hannah! Another baby? That's terrific. Are you?"

"No. Not yet." She sighed. "But Payt thinks it's time we started, um, a family expansion project."

"And perhaps you don't feel ready?"

Hannah could only nod.

"Hmm." Lauren kept at her work. "How old is Tessa?"

"Right at eight months, but the thing is, it took me almost two years to get pregnant with her. And as my darling husband pointed out at the pizza parlor last night-I'm not getting any younger."

Work stopped. Lauren leaned in, placing her chin in one manicured hand, to study Hannah with her eyes narrowed. "Cheese or pepperoni?"

"Huh?"

"Just wondering which kind of pizza you dumped in his lap for that remark."

Hannah laughed. "Neither. I just sat there, stunned."

"By the age thing or the baby thing?"

"The baby. Definitely the baby."

"Don't you want another one?"

Didn't she? Who wouldn't want another baby?

Maybe a woman who daily questioned her ability to nurture and raise her current baby.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I think maybe our family feels complete already with Sam and Tessa. But what if Sam's biological father takes him away? And if Payt wants another child..."

"You really are up in the air about this baby issue, aren't you?"

"Up in the air. Down in the dumps. No wonder I'm afraid that if I don't find some equilibrium soon, time may leave me high and dry."

"Then don't let it. And don't be afraid, Hannah-leave it with the Lord and pray, and you'll find your answers."

"Thanks, Lauren." She smiled, unconvinced the other woman truly understood her dilemma.

They sat there in silence for a moment, focused on the project.

Hannah couldn't help but steal a peek at the other woman's long, elegant fingers at work, though. Lauren's rings glittered but never once snagged. She used her long, lovely nails as tools for poking seams into points, but the polish never chipped. How could someone like that comprehend how tender Hannah found the topic of adding to her family? If Lauren Faison wanted another baby, she'd do it without hesitation or mussing her hairdo.

If she wanted another child. But Lauren didn't have another child. That meant she had to have faced the questions Hannah now faced and somehow come to a decision. A decision? Being Lauren, she had most likely arrived at the ideal conclusion. she wanted another child. But Lauren didn't have another child. That meant she had to have faced the questions Hannah now faced and somehow come to a decision. A decision? Being Lauren, she had most likely arrived at the ideal conclusion.

Hannah had to hear it. She wet her lips and held her project in both hands in her lap. "Lauren, did you...do you ever think about having another child?" you ever think about having another child?"

"Me? No! Time has already run out on that for me."

"Yeah, right."

"Well, I was thirty-six when I had Stilton."

"Thirty-six? No way. That would make you..."

"Don't start counting on your fingers, if you don't mind. Suffice it to say the baby train has left the station for me, and that's okay."

"You're at peace with that?"

"Uh-huh. Stilton's dad is sixteen years older than me, you know."

Hannah had heard as much before she even met Lauren, but she never delved.

"And I was no sweet young thing when we met. In fact, I'd given up on finding a good, decent, marriage-minded man of faith completely, and thrown myself into my own real-estate business when Elliot came in to sell his house. He'd been widowed for two years, and the youngest child had gone off to college. He wanted to downsize."

"So you sold his house?"

"Actually, I married him and moved into it." Lauren laughed. "I won't pretend I didn't have plans to fill it up with children then. But then Stilton was born with a heart defect."

Hannah gasped. "I didn't know."

"Small thing." She held her thumb and forefinger close together to ill.u.s.trate. "Huge scare. But it really taught us the blessing of leaving things in G.o.d's hands."

"What a story. So you chose not to have more kids because of Stilton's health?"

"Hannah, what part of leaving it in G.o.d's hands didn't you get?" Lauren patted her hand. "It just didn't happen and that's that. All things turn out for the good for those who love the Lord, and all."

Then your life isn't one-hundred-percent perfection every minute of every day? You've had disappointments and things to overcome, too? She held her tongue, even though it almost killed her not to blurt out her latest revelation for confirmation. She held her tongue, even though it almost killed her not to blurt out her latest revelation for confirmation.

"Anyway, my husband has three grown children. And two of them even have children, so if I need a baby fix I have the ultimate luxury of spoiling someone I can give back."

"You're like a grandmother?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe it. You look so..." Rested. Pulled together. "Vivacious."

"Ooooh, great word. You must be a writer."

"Some would argue otherwise." She could visualize the blue square envelope leaning against her computer monitor even now. "But back to you, how do you do it? How do you do all the things you do for Stilton and look so fresh?"

"You know that saying-'it takes a village to raise a child'?"

"Yes."

"Well, there ought to be a new one-it takes a major metropolitan area to maintain a middle-aged lady."

They shared a laugh.

"The main thing-" Lauren took the mangled sh.e.l.l of a beanbag from Hannah's hands and righted it without any real effort "-you have to make time for yourself. The things you need to be a good wife and mother and friend don't come measured out in hours and minutes. They come from the well of your spirit. If you let that go dry by always giving and never tending to yourself, you have nothing left to give."

"Sounds so easy when you say it. And so wonderful."

"It sounds like a goofy watercolor-painted greeting card left over from the seventies."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Now you're getting it. So, tell me right now, what are you doing to care for your physical, mental and spiritual needs?"

"Physical? Chase kids." She hadn't stuck with an exercise program or a diet or even kept a hair appointment since they'd moved to Ohio.

"Mental?" Lauren asked.

"Does figuring out the amount of unpopped popcorn we needed to stuff two dozen frogs count?"

"You write," Lauren reminded her.

"That may be more of a mental illness than a mental endeavor."

Lauren raised her knees and folded her tanned, sculpted arms on top of them. "You certainly expend a great deal of mental energy putting yourself down. But that doesn't count, either. What about your spiritual life?"

"Since I took over the nursery department, I haven't attended one grown-up Sunday service."

"Prayer life?"

"Prayer lite is more like it."

"Time in the Word?"

"Lesson plans, reading to Sam."

"Oh, Hannah..."

"I know. I'm a wreck, aren't I?"

"Oh, we're all wrecks-some of us just take time to hammer the dents out."

She smiled and tried to think of a way to thank Lauren for the advice and humor, but the phone cut her off.

"Excuse me."

"Bartlett Frog Flippers, Miami North Pad."

"Um...Hannah?"

"Oh, no. Don't even ask."

"I wasn't."

"I do not have the time or the inclination to rush over to your office and scour the bathroom."

"I know, but..."

"I mean, come on, Bartlett. It's bad enough that you asked me to do it twice a week already after days of caring for the kids, work and whatever volunteer jobs I've spent my day up to my nose in."

"I know, but..."

"But to keep asking me today is unfair, especially with our trip just a few hours away."

"I know, but..."

"Which, by the way, is the only reason I am not letting out a primal scream of frustration and slamming this phone down in your ear-the knowledge that in a few short hours you, my most darling husband, will be whisking me away for the romantic escape of a lifetime."

Silence met her ramblings.

Not good.

"Payt, honey?" Her pulse raced, she took a shallow breath. "This is the part where you say 'I know but...'"

"Listen, Hannah."