Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(97)

"Bonne chance," Pierre said. "I'm wishing you the best."

"Would you two stop?" Susan said with a laugh. "Everything's going to be fine." She had a crochet project on her lap, and Winter could see that Casey had brought her knitting.

Following Winter's gaze, Casey said, "I'm making the baby a blanket. Mom's helping me." Then under her breath, she muttered, "I'm better at crochet than knitting. Aunt Margaret even said so."

"How's it going with Alix?" Winter asked, directing the question to Susan.

"Jordan was back to give us a report about half an hour ago. Alix is well--and the baby should be born soon."

Just then, as if he'd been summoned, Jordan burst through the swinging doors and threw his arms in the air. "We have a son!"

"A son," Susan echoed. She pressed both hands to her mouth and her eyes instantly filled with tears.

"A grandson," Larry said as though in shock.

"Healthy as a horse, too, if his bellow is anything to go by," Jordan said, his voice elated. "He weighed in at seven pounds, nine ounces."

"August eighth is a great day to be born," Casey said.

"You know anyone born on that day?" Winter asked.

"Alix's baby."

Winter grinned. "Right."

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" Susan asked. Winter remembered that Alix and Jordan had kept their choices a secret, not wanting any pressure from even the people they loved.

Jordan smiled. "Thomas Lawrence."

"Thomas Lawrence," Winter repeated.

"After her brother," Lydia said quietly.

Winter looked at her for an explanation.

"Alix had an older brother who died," Lydia told her. "She named her son after her brother."

Jordan nodded. "And after my father."

"I'm deeply honored," Larry whispered. He seemed very emotional and close to tears.

"When can we see Alix and the baby?" Casey asked, sitting on the edge of her seat. "I want to show her the blanket."

"It'll probably be a while yet," Lydia said. "They need to wash the baby and do some tests."

"Oh."

"You'll have plenty of time to visit Alix later," Lydia promised.

The two of them stood, and Winter did, as well. Susan and Larry hugged Jordan, and Casey and Lydia did, too.

Jordan turned toward Winter, his arms outstretched. "Thank you so much for coming."

"I love Alix," Winter said.

"I know, and you've been wonderful to her. She loves you right back," Jordan said, pulling her toward him. "Thank you all for being here. I'll be sure to tell Alix."

"Please do, and give her my love." She kissed his cheek, then turned and joined Pierre.

Pierre reached for her hand and they walked to the elevator.

It was difficult to leave. Winter glanced over her shoulder and saw Larry and Susan still congratulating their son.

On the way out of the hospital Winter felt euphoric. Pierre slipped his arm around her waist as they strolled toward the parking complex.

"I'm so happy for Alix and Jordan," she said. "Just so happy."

"I am, too." Pierre stopped suddenly and drew her to a halt. "We should have a baby," he said.

"What?" Winter chuckled. "Pierre, we'd want to be married first, wouldn't we?"

"But of course."

"And we'd want to be absolutely certain we were bringing a child into a healthy relationship. A loving one."

"Naturally," he agreed.

Winter looked up at this man she so desperately loved. "Just a minute... Pierre, are you asking me to marry you?"

"Oui. Which means yes, mon amour americaine."

She nudged him. "That much French I know. But Pierre, is this what you want?"

"More than I realized. I want to have children with you, Winter, and to love you with the same love I saw in that young father's eyes. We have some distance to go, but you and me--well, I believe we can do this. Six months ago, six weeks, I could not have said that, but I can now."

Winter flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, mon amour francais, I believe we can."

Chapter Thirty-Six

"She's here!" Linda Barclay said, stepping into my office a week after Harvey had told me about Macy's return. Seven long days. My nurse shut the door behind her, and as if I needed to be informed who she was, added, "Macy's here." "Oh?" I looked up from my half-eaten lunch. I pretended not to be interested. "What does she want?"

* * * * *

The question appeared to confuse Linda. "I don't think she wants anything."

"Then what's she doing here?"

Linda motioned helplessly. "She's here to finish the mural. She's got her paints. Right now she's saying hello to everyone. I...I thought you'd want to know."

"It doesn't matter to me," I said coldly. As for the mural, I'd grown accustomed to seeing it unfinished. It even had a certain appeal that way. I'd come to accept that it would probably stay exactly as it was, and that was fine by me. I no longer expected Macy to finish anything she started. That included the mural and me. This was a pattern; when situations grew too intense or uncomfortable, she simply walked away.