Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Hope laughed ruefully. “Yeah, that’s it. I feel like he’s been in here so long, and I want to meet him. I want to look him in the eyes. And I want him to stop jabbing his feet into my ribs.”
“Ugh, I remember that,” I commiserated. “Nicky jammed both feet right up under my ribcage all the time. I’d nudge them back, and two seconds later, he’d stretch, and they’d be shoved up under my ribs again. It did not feel good.” I smiled to myself. I’d loved most of my pregnancy, but not those pointy little feet poking my ribs. “You’re still sure the baby is a boy?”
Hope continued down the hall to the kitchens. “I’m positive he’s a boy, but Griffen is just as sure we’re having a girl.”
“I’m impressed you have the patience to wait and see. You two are so organized. I can’t believe you’re leaving something so important up in the air.” I thought back to finding out Nicky was a boy during an ultrasound. My next stop had been the baby store, where I loaded up on onesies and blankets, not realizing how many I’d get at my baby shower.
Hope stopped at the kitchen door, surveying the clean counters, gleaming stovetop, and the giant pot steaming on the stove. “It smells amazing in here.”
Finn looked up at us from the mound of dough on the island in front of him. “Chili and country bread.” His eyes focused on Hope’s face, taking in her obvious exhaustion. “You look like you need tea.” He lifted his chin at the table, a Finn-style order for Hope to sit down.
“We’re going to sort through one of the bins,” I said. “Do you mind if we do it here? I’ll get it out of your way when we’re done.”
“Fine with me,” Finn said. “I just need to finish this, and I’ll start tea.”
“I can do it,” Hope cut in, “while Savannah gets the bin.” At my look, she added, “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated. I can boil water and measure tea.”
I kept my mouth shut and went to get the bin. The lights flickered again, leaving me in the pitch black for more seconds than I liked, the howl of the wind muffled but still creepy here in the lowest level of Heartstone. I returned to the kitchen to see Finn washing his hands and Hope sitting at the table, a mulish set to her chin.
“Finn made me sit down and rest,” she tattled, sounding more like Nicky than herself.
“Take advantage now,” I said, nodding at her rounded belly. “Once the Sawyer prince or princess arrives, no one will pay any attention to you.”
Hope laughed. “That would be a relief. Now give me that journal.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SAVANNAH
We spent more than an hour poring over assorted bits and pieces from the storage bin. Hope was absorbed in the maid’s journal and me sorting receipts and notes from the housekeeper to her staff. We finished the tea and devoured more than our share of cookies as the wind rose higher, the power flickering with each heavy gust. I received a text from Laurel Country Day saying they were closing early, followed almost immediately by one from Tenn saying he was taking one of the Inn’s SUVs and picking up the boys. Hope checked her phone.
“Nothing from Griffen?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Hope said. “I don’t like him out there in this weather.”
Finn glanced up from shaping loaves of beard and studied the dark sky outside. I expected him to dismiss Hope’s concerns, but he admitted, “I don’t like it either.”
Hope stood and started to pace the long length of the kitchen island, the heels of her palms pressing into her lower back.
“You, okay?” I asked.
“Just restless. I can’t sit still.” She turned at the end of the island and headed back toward the table. “My back hurts, and I wish Griffen were here,” she said peevishly.
Something in her tone, in the way she was walking, tickled my mom’s antenna. “Hope, how long has your back been hurting?”
“Off and on for the last couple of months?” she said, sounding annoyed and impatient, two things I rarely heard from Hope Sawyer.
“Hope,” I said carefully. “How long has it been hurting like this?”
She shot me an irritated look. “I don’t know. Since yesterday, after lunch? I couldn’t get comfortable at the desk, so I lay down on the couch, but that didn’t help, and then I didn’t sleep well. I’m restless, that’s all.”
I looked at Finn, shaking my head slowly. He caught my meaning and gave Hope an assessing look. We were in that zone where the baby could be another two weeks, or she could come today. Hope wasn’t having contractions, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Every labor is different.
I knew as well as anyone who’d been through it that the last week or two before a baby was born was filled with fits and starts. I’d gone to the hospital more than once with Braxton Hicks contractions, sure it was time, only to be sent home to wait and wait and wait some more.