Where the Heart Lives

Chapter Two: Questions and Concerns

Willard led Abbie over to a nearby table, his mind still reeling at the news he had received only moments before. They sat down, and Willard fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, unsure of how to proceed. He was going to be a father. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified him. 'What if I'm no good? What if I turn out like my father, cold and distant? What if my child doesn't like me? What if something goes wrong?'

He was bought out of his thoughts by Abbie's hand on his arm. "You okay, love?"

Willard sighed. "I'm terrified, Abbie. What if I turn out like my father? He was so cold and distant towards me. What if I'm like that to our child?"

Abbie smiled softly at him. "You won't be, I promise. You don't think I'm not scared? I've never done this before, and I'm wondering what sort of mother I'll make. I'm wondering what it will be like having this huge responsibility. But I know that the fact that I am carrying your child makes me happier than I have ever been in my life. We'll make great parents."

Willard smiled. "I'm still scared. But I'll be by your side every step of the way, I promise." He grinned. "So what do you think of the name Matthew?"

Abbie giggled. "Willard, I'm only three weeks pregnant! I don't even know if the babe is a boy or girl. It's a bit early to be thinking of names, love."

"It's never too early. Were you named for anyone?"

Abbie nodded. "My great-great grandmother on my Mom's side was named Annabelle. I don't know if she shortened it like I do. What about you?"

"My mother told me once that she just thought Willard was an interesting name. Of course, when she was…sick, she decided to rename me Clark. Said it was a stronger name than Willard."

Abbie laughed. "Clark? What a boring, common name. Willard is much more unique and interesting."

Willard beamed. "I always thought so. How do you like the name Elizabeth?"

Abbie laughed. "It's a very pretty name, but please, at least wait for a few weeks before you start spouting off names."

Willard pouted at her. "Well, do you have any ideas?"

Abbie gave him a look of exasperation. "Of course I do. I just don't want to commit to any names right at the moment. But I've always liked Rebecca for a girl or Matthew for a boy."

"Those are good names."

Abbie nodded. "Yeah." Willard reached over and gently squeezed her hand, and she stared at him, happy tears pricking the corner of her eyes. "Willard…we're going to be parents."

"I know, I find it amazing too. There's going to be a lot of changes, aren't there?"

Abbie smiled. "There sure are."

"Mr. and Mrs. Stiles?"

Abbie and Willard looked up at the man who had spoken. Mr. Grant Devons was Willard's boss, and as far from Martin as it was possible to get. He was in his late sixties, and his family had owned the bookstore The Tattered Remnant for generations. Mr. Devons had a frizzy mop of white hair, a kind, open face, and brown eyes which missed nothing. When he smiled, he revealed a set of slightly yellowed dentures. He had a bright, exuberant personality and was affectionately referred to as 'Gramps' by the younger members of his staff. He smiled at Abbie and Willard. "I heard the news. Congratulations to you both."

Willard smiled shyly, still unused to a boss that wasn't constantly haranguing and insulting him. "Th…Thank you, Sir."

Mr. Devons smiled. "Willard, you don't need to be so gun shy around me."

"I…I know, Sir, but my last boss, Frank Martin, he…well, he wasn't a very good boss." Willard glanced at the table, slightly nervous. "He…nothing I ever did was good enough."

Devons laughed. "Well, his loss is my gain. You're a fine bookkeeper, and my shelves have never looked neater. I should call your old boss; give him a piece of my mind."

Willard stared wide eyed at Abbie, and she spoke up. "Mr. Devons, that's a very generous offer, but unfortunately Mr. Martin died last year in an accident."

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, that's life." Devons smiled, and then changed the subject. "Well, in honor of this fine occasion, feel free to order anything off the menu. It's on me tonight."

Abbie smiled. "Thank you."

Devons patted her hand. "Well, it's the least I can do. What would you like?"

"Lemon berry cheesecake and a raspberry chocolate mocha."

Devons grinned. "What size?"

"The biggest you've got."

Devons laughed. "You got it, Mrs. Stiles."

"Please, call me Abbie."

"Abbie. Lovely name."

Abbie blushed. "Thank you."

Willard opened the door to the cabin, sighing ruefully as Abbie dashed past him, jabbering away. "That was the best cheesecake ever and the mochas were so good and raspberryish and chocolaty and the whipped cream was so…whipped creamy and white and when one was gone I got another and it wasn't as raspberryish this time, it was more chocolaty and I think we should start looking for baby clothes and I want booties but I can't knit maybe I should learn to knit and then I could make booties and they'd be cute but not pink because pink is a boring color I was thinking maybe purple or green or…."

"Abbie."

"Or maybe blue because that's the color of the ocean and I love the ocean have you ever been to the beach, Willard? We should go to the beach sometime, it's really fun and I used to love splashing in the waves when I was little and…"

"Abbie."

"Or maybe we could spend a weekend picking out colors for the nursery and buying a crib and a bassinet and a cradle I used to know someone that made beautiful wooden cradles I wonder if he's still around and…"

"ANNABELLE!"

Abbie pouted at Willard. "What?"

Willard raised his eyebrow at her. "Are you done jabbering?"

"Yeah."

Willard sighed in relief. "Good. Babe, from now on, if someone offers you free chocolate raspberry mochas, don't drink eight of them in a row. Especially if you keep getting the largest size available."

Abbie sat on the couch, frowning at him. "I'm on a bit of a sugar high."

Willard chuckled. "So I noticed. You going to be alright?"

Abbie nodded, and then suddenly burst into tears. Willard sat next to her, pulling her into his arms. "Hey, what's wrong? If you're crying because I yelled at you, I'm sorry."

Abbie shook her head. "I'm not crying about that, but I accept your apology. Willard, I'm…I'm just so scared. What if something happens to us? What if….what if I have a miscarriage? What if something goes wrong and the baby is premature? What if…God, listen to me. What if. What if I suddenly get transported to Timbuktu on a prop plane? No one ever told me how terrifying and exciting the thought of being a mother could be. I…." she buried her face in his shirt, sobbing.

Willard gently lifted her chin, staring softly at her. "You listen to me, Annabelle Stiles, because I will not repeat myself. You will make a phenomenally fantastic mother. You are gentle, compassionate, caring, tough, and brave. I can't promise that everything will be perfect, but no matter what happens I am going to be at your side every step of the way. So dry your eyes, love."

Abbie wiped her eyes, and then snuggled up to him. "How do you always know the right thing to say to me?"

"It's a gift."