Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
A fortnight later, Barbara Jean and Brock were divorced and she was living with Reba. She stayed in the spare bed in Kyra's room, and moved Henry's bed into Jake's.
Reba was scared, but that didn't stop her from wanting to help. She was still her sarcastic self to Barbara Jean, but very hospitable. No favor was too big, and she didn't complain once.
Barbara Jean and Brock were still a little awkward. They avoided each other for the most part, but neither held hard feelings for the other.
Reba and Brock continued to spend every free moment in each others time. They were still the best part of each others day, and things seemed to be going well in this pieced-together happy home.
Until one day when Barbara Jean was two months along. She was showing, and was actually very excited at the prospect of another child.
She and Reba were sitting on the couch, Barbara Jean knitting, Reba reading a novel. The doorbell rang and before Reba could get up to answer, Barbara Jean said, "No, Reba, you stay there I'll get it!" and made her way up to the door.
Reba knew something was wrong the moment she heard the door open and heard Barbara Jean gasp.
"P-Paul," she stuttered. Reba looked up. There was a rather attractive man standing at the door. He was muscular, and taller than Barbara Jean. He was, in fact, rather menacing.
"Can I come in?" Paul said in a low voice.
"Um.." Barbara Jean looked nervously back at Reba, who was on her feet, walking to the door.
"Who are you?" Reba tried not to sound rude, but she didn't like the way this man seemed to intimidate her friend.
"My name is Paul, I'm a friend of Barbara Jeans," he stepped inside. His face was a frozen carving of wood, not smiling, not changing expression. The door shut behind him.
"So…how are you?" Barbara Jeans arms were tight around her stomach, as though her arms were crossed. Reba understood the gesture.
"You must be Reba," Paul finally tore his eyes away from Barbara Jean and looked at Reba. "Would you mind giving me a moment alone with Barbara Jean?"
"Yes, I would, if you don't take that look off your face." Reba wasn't scared in the least of this guy. She didn't like him at all.
Paul stared at Reba, his eyebrows pulling together. Reba stared back, equally determined.
Finally Paul smiled. Almost all of his anger seemed to dissolve, but his eyes were still mean. "I'll be nice if you are, Reba."
Reba scowled deeper. "Five minutes. Then you're leaving."
Paul nodded as Reba started for the kitchen. Before she disappeared, she turned back to them and made signal "I got my eyes on you," saying, "I'm watching you."
Of course she was, but Paul didn't believe her. The hatch was closed, but she opened it just enough to be able to see what was going on.
Paul had his arms folded and was speaking in a low voice. Barbara Jean wasn't looking at him, but staring at her feet, her arms still tightly around her stomach.
Their voices started to rise, and Reba understood what they were saying now.
"You told me to stay out of your life, now you come into mine just as things are getting better, Paul?"
"Your pregnant, things aren't gonna get better unless you get rid of it," Paul growled.
"I'm keeping her!"
"What – you can't raise a child alone!"
"I'm not alone!"
"Oh, yeah. You're EX husband and his EX wife! You think either of them even like you? After what you did to both of them?"
Paul was yelling now.
"That's none of your business-"
Paul slapped her on the face. Her hands flew to her mouth, and he took advantage of the absence of her hands there to sock the wind out of her.
Reba covered her mouth. Then the anger started boiling and she was flying out into the living room.
Paul didn't notice her coming up to him. With one blow she socked him in the eye. He stumbled backward, taken by complete surprise.
"Leave!" Reba ordered, throwing the door open. Paul just stared at her, still with one hand to his eye.
"OUT!" she yelled. "Before I call the police!"
Paul didn't waste another second. He was out. He tried to turn around and say something, but Reba slammed the door in his face and locked it.
Barbara Jean was shaking, clutching her stomach again. Reba turned to her and asked, "Barbara Jean, are you okay?"
Soon she was hugging her friend, who was crying uncontrollably. "R-Reba, he told me h-h-e wants me to have an abortion, but I don't want to, I just can't!"
"You don't have to, Barbara Jean, he left you, he can't make you do anything." She held her at arms length. "Did he hurt you? Are you feeling okay?"
"Just…shaky."
"C'mon, let's sit down." Reba led her to the couch and asked, "Can I get you anything?"
"Iced water…" Barbara Jean hiccuped.
She was calmed down after about an hour, by which time Jake and Kyra were home from school. Reba had explained the whole thing, and they all worked on trying to comfort her. Soon Van and Cheyenne were home and they heard everything as well.
"Wow, what a jerk!" Cheyenne breathed. "Wait until Dad hears."
"I called him at work. He's on his way," Reba sighed.
"Won't he be pissed," Kyra shook her head, sipping her glass of soda. "Good job beating him up, Mom."
"Yeah, you da man," Jake grinned.
Reba glared at him as she said, "Thanks, Kyra. But if he'd seen me coming up to hit him I wouldn't have had a chance. I'm just glad he was trying to beat up Barbara Jean at the time."
Barbara Jean, who had been quiet for two whole minutes, slowly turned to Reba. Reba covered her mouth.
"That came out wrong – I meant-"
"It's okay, I know what you meant, don't worry," Barbara Jean sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "I'm more worried about him hitting my stomach…"
"He hit the baby?" Van yelled. "That's it, I'm gonna kill him!"
"Don't - it wasn't too hard, see?" Barbara Jean lifted up her shirt just enough so they could see her belly button. Cheyenne's hand flew to her mouth, Kyra's jaw dropped, Jake's eyes bugged out, and Van gasped, "OH MY LORDY!"
A purple bruise was forming, large and misshapen, on Barbara Jean's stomach. It looked awful.
Reba was on her feet. "Barbara Jean, where does he live? C'mon, Van, we're gonna KILL him!!"
They had both started for the door when it opened. Brock and Reba bumped face first again and she automatically hugged him, anger soothing. "Hey, honey, how are you?'
"I'm fine – Reba, where's Barbara Jean?"
"What? Oh – OH I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" Reba tried to start out the door with Van again but Brock closed it.
"BJ? How are you doing?"
"Well, I feel better, now I'm just scared!" Barbara Jean whimpered. "What if he comes back?"
"Then me and Mrs. H just might get our wish," Van said, giving Reba a double-hi-5.
"What if it's at night?" she whimpered again.
"Barbara Jean, you sleep in my room. I have three base guitars, two acoustics and two electric's." Kyra rolled her eyes. "Not to mention three sets of spare drum sticks. We're armed."
"Plus Mrs. H and I will be standing guard outside your door," Van added.
"With guns," Reba assured her.
"No, we're gonna call the police!" Brock corrected them.
"Have they got 7 guitars, six lethal sticks, an ex-football player and a mean red-head?" Van challenged.
"Listen, Van, we can't take this into our own hands, the police have got to know!" Brock insisted.
"Look, Brock, your right to a point. We can't kill the bast-"
"Mom!" Cheyenne pointed to Jake.
"…The…bad person," Reba controlled herself. "But I told him that if he came around again we'd call the cops. That should hold him off. And he won't be able to hurt Barbara Jean or the baby."
"Hello? I think he's already hurt both of them! Barbara Jean has got a bruise on her belly the size of Texas!" Cheyenne exclaimed.
"What – he punched her in the stomach? Reba, we've got to call the police now!"
"Only if he comes around again!" Reba said flatly, and no one argued with that tone.
Later that night, Reba was up in bed. She hadn't even gotten undressed yet, just sat on top of the pillows. She couldn't sleep knowing that Paul knew where Barbara Jean was. He'd probably guessed that she would be wherever Reba was and come there when he'd found nobody at her old house.
Reba was frightened. Frightened for Barbara Jean, the baby, and she was still trying to figure out how to get Brock back into her life permanently.
This was just another thing that would come before their relationship. Why did Barbara Jean getting pregnant always seem to do that?
She wanted to marry Brock again, to grow old with him just as she had always planned. She knew it was on his mind as much as hers, but wondered why he wasn't scared.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Reba said, thinking it was Barbara Jean. She often came in for a few minutes just to talk to Reba, who was always willing to listen.
To her surprise, Brock, fully dressed, opened the door. He gave her a small smile as he shut the door.
"What are you doin' here at this time?" Reba asked, but smiling and patting the space beside her.
"I was worried," Brock sighed, sitting and putting his arms around her.
"Don't worry, Barbara Jean is in a full house," Reba assured him, returning the embrace.
"It's not her I'm worried about. You're the one who threw punches," Brock reminded her.
"So he'll stay away from me"
"That's what I keep trying to tell myself, but it's not so easy to believe when I know a man got a good look at your angry side…which is rather alluring," Brock kissed the top of her head. Then he looked into the eyes of the angel he so desperately wanted and needed.
Reba smiled back up at him, blushing, but then looked away.
"What's wrong?" Brock had never seen that look in her eyes before. It was burning a hole through her eyes, it was deep. Was it anger? No, he'd seen every look she had for that. Was it happiness? No, it looked to painful. Was it…regret?
"Why me?" Reba whispered.
"What?"
"Why me? How did I get so lucky – I know how much I love you, and you say you love me and I truly believe it…but I just don't know why?"
Brock sat stunned for a minute, then laughed a little. Was that it? "Why? You mean, why am I so in love with you? Must I spell it out? Reba, your…"
He struggled to find the word that would summarize everything she was. Beautiful, oh VERY beautiful, stunning, kind, ridiculously cute when she was mad, fiery, forgiving, loving, more precious than anything God had put on the earth…
She looked up at him after a few moments of quiet while he thought. "What?"
"…Reba." He settled with.
"What?"
"No, I can't find any other word – you're just…you , and with that its your everything I've ever wished I could have. And you forgave me, Reba, and you're giving me another chance. How could anyone not fall in love with you?"
Reba felt tears starting to take over. A thousand times she had wondered that same question she'd asked, even when they were married, but never asked it. She was glad she had waited; now he had a better answer built up.
"Wow." She said finally.
"Yeah, wow," Brock agreed. "So, why me?"
Reba frowned in deep thought, then understood. "Because…you did fall in love with me. And not so many people can see the good parts of me, heck I barely can, but you do. And with you…it's so easy. It shouldn't be…but it is. And you were my friend when nobody was…don't you remember? I moved here and didn't know anyone until you."
"Say, why did you come and talk to me?" she asked suddenly. "You were at that bar and I was way on the other side with nobody and you just broke away form your friends, what was that about?"
"That was the smartest move of my life, I saved you from all the other guys checking you out," Brock grinned.
"Oh, yeah right," Reba rolled her eyes.
"No, I'm serious! My buddies Ted and Michael were throwing back shots like crazy trying to get the courage to ask you to dance. I thought they were wrong about seeing a new hot face because they'd had so much to drink…but on my way out I saw you and pretty much floated over there."
Reba giggled. "Well I saw you and knew I was looking at that handsome guy my daddy warned me about. And here we are," she sighed.
They were quiet for a few minutes as Brock ran his fingers through her hair, taking in everything about her. She was wearing a blue shirt that he knew was the color of her eyes. Her perfect legs were sheathed in jeans that he knew she wore on days off. She thought of them as comfort jeans, but he could still see the perfect curves of her legs etched against them.
"Are you tired?" he asked suddenly. "Am I keeping you awake?"
But she made no reply. As he looked into her face he saw her eyes closed and she was breathing deeply in his arms, asleep.
Kissing her forehead, Brock held her a little tighter, and it wasn't long before he too was fast asleep.