12 Bells and a Baby
Jennie Jones
Every big thing in Kate and Jamie’s lives happens in a heatwave, and today is no exception.
12 Bells and a Baby is an additional scene taking place five years after Kate and Jamie met in 12 Days at Silver Bells House, book two in the Swallow’s Fall series, published by Escape Publishing in December 2014.
Kate Singleton knew how to walk onto a fashion shoot, into a high-powered meeting or in this case, into a restaurant. Kate Knight, however, had forgotten that Singleton’s legs were no longer executive and therefore not used to spike-heeled stilettos.
“Holy mackerel,” she said to the solid wall of muscle at her side. “Feet are dead.”
Jamie Knight, husband of five years, tower of strength and the best guy she’d ever been to bed with, chuckled; his leather-brown eyes twinkling, his sexy forty-six-inch chest filled with his solid, sensational heart.
Kate smiled back, acknowledging but not mentioning his earlier softly spoken observation that she might be better off in flat pumps. She ran a hand down her ponytail, clasped high on the top of her head so that any cool air around might find the back of her neck. Why did all the important things in her life happen in a heatwave? She’d met Jamie in a heatwave, wearing wellies and a straw hat while trying to find her way in the country, now here she was back in the swanky society of Sydney, sweltering in Collette Dinnigan linen.
“Told you we should have taken a water taxi,” Jamie said.
Two weeks they’d been away from home, living out of a suitcase at the Park Hyatt. Walking was better for Kate—what with her stomach going weak on her since they’d arrived. “The water smells.”
“No it doesn’t, it’s great.”
“It’s the churning.” She glanced around Cafe Nix ground floor restaurant. “They won’t remember, will they?”
Jamie put his hand to the small of her back and led them further into the cafe. “Of course not. Breakfast was hours ago.”
“And I wasn’t actually sick,” Kate said. “I was only nearly sick.”
“No one will remember.”
A young waitress popped up at their side, giving them a bright, dimply smile. “Hi, again. So how are you feeling?” she asked Kate.
“I was only nearly sick,” Kate said, forgetting the pain on the balls of her feet as the memory of her public humiliation at breakfast bounced to the fore. She’d made a run for the ladies, almost gagging—but hadn’t been sick after all.
“Your restrooms are safe tonight,” Jamie said to the waitress. “She’s hungry.”
“Starving.” It wasn’t true. Kate’s stomach was doing an un-synchronised swimming routine. It’s just nerves, she told herself, and studied the waitress. “Tamsin”, the cute little name tag said.
Kate was no longer a fashion guru at the forefront of the industry spotlight, she was a country-dwelling wife and an online fashion designer whizz, which meant she kept her eyes peeled and her brain whirling. She ran her mental tape measure over Tamsin. Vogue. One of their water nymph shoots. Or maybe something for Alannah Hill.
“We’re in for an early dinner,” Jamie told the waitress. “We’re off to a show.”
“I’ve never had a child before,” Kate said, used to ignoring the agony of this fact. Things were about to change and she was as grateful as a bursting watermelon for the astonishing joy she’d been shown since she’d met and married Jamie Knight.
“Neither have I,” Tamsin said, picking up two menus and leading them to a table by the window, overlooking the shaded outdoor deck. “What a gorgeous plant,” Tamsin said over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” Kate clutched the pot plant, not caring if soil spoiled the Paradise Print of her Dinnigan belted shirt dress. “Christmas Bells. A florist at Circular Quay was selling them. It reminds me of home. We live in the Snowy Mountains, a town called Swallow’s Fall. Ninety-nine people. Our house is called Silver Bells House. Adorable, huh?” Twelve bell-shaped flower heads bobbed on their sturdy green stems against Collette’s linen. Kate fingered the leaves. “We’ll be taking twelve bells home to Silver Bells House.”
“How sweet,” Tamsin said.
“We’ve just built an extension. My husband’s a stonemason.”
“Same table as this morning?”
“Thanks,” Jamie said, taking Kate’s elbow in the palm of his Master Builder’s hand.
“I’m a fashion designer.”
“I can tell,” Tamsin said as they reached their table. She ran an eye down Kate’s sleeveless dress, her gaze hovering on Kate’s stomach. “So when are you due?”
“Not me!” Kate said, putting a hand on her flat stomach. “Someone else had the child but the bastards didn’t want him.” She flicked her pearly-pink-polished fingertips towards the door as though the bastards were outside, laughing as they did a let’s-get-rid-of-this-child Cha-Cha on the waterfront. “So we’re getting lucky.” Their loss.
“An eleven-year-old boy,” Jamie said, his low, rumbling voice and soft smile telling the world he couldn’t wait; was as proud as any expectant father.
“I’m nervous,” Kate said as she took the seat Jamie pulled out for her and put the pot plant down along with her purse. “I’m about to become the mother of a near-teenager—” She shot a panicked look at Jamie. “Jamie, I don’t know anything about teenagers.”
Jamie dragged his chair out, and sat. “You’ll be fantastic.” He took the menus off Tamsin, put one in front of Kate and opened his, scanning with a frown of concentration.
Kate slipped her shoes off and scrunched her toes. Heaven.
Jamie looked over the top of his menu. “So what are you going to throw up for dinner?”
‘I wasn’t actually sick,” Kate reminded him. “They just made me feel sick. They were wobbling on the plate.’
“Great eggs,” Jamie said. “Loved mine. Loved yours.”
Eggs? Don’t talk to Kate about eggs. What about Kate’s eggs? Where had they gone? Had she had any to begin with?
“I’ve never been a mother before,” she told Tamsin, wondering if they served dry toast. “I don’t have the eggs.”
“Eggs are only on the breakfast menu, actually,” Tamsin said. “But I can ask Chef what he can do?”
Jamie chuckled, and peered at Kate. “Really,” he asked as Tamsin left the table after telling them she’d give them a few minutes. “How are you feeling?”
“Have you noticed how everyone knows our business?”
“That’s because you keep telling them.”
“I haven’t said a word!”
“Kate. How are you feeling?”
Kate shrugged a hot, bare shoulder. “Still sick. It’s nerves.” Except that the nerves had been with her all week. Mostly in the mornings. She hadn’t been nervous with any of the meetings they’d had with the adoption agency, or with their gorgeous young boy. She’d been fine; excited, expectant. Holy knitted baby bonnets. Why had the word “expectant” cropped up? Kate didn’t know what her eggs had been playing at; they hadn’t been whipped up and scrambled by Jamie’s sperm, that was for sure, and she’d long ago given up reading the pamphlets about why not, but really—her insides were screaming at her: we’re here. We’re pushing upstream. Go on, do one more test.
“Evening, guys. How was your day?” Nix, the cafe owner asked, heading towards them with a water jug and a basket of bread rolls.
Kate didn’t have to wonder about Nix. Armani. Pure and simple. Structured design for the smart working woman.
“Hope you’re feeling better,” Nix said to Kate. “Never had anyone throw up after eating our eggs Benedict—let alone just looking at the plate.”
“I only nearly—”
“She’s fine,” Jamie said. He smiled at Nix. “By the way, can we have another place setting? We’ll be three for dinner. I forgot to tell Tamsin.”
Nix paused, eyes widened. “Did it…I mean, is it sorted? Just like that? Your son’s joining you?”
Kate felt a pull of motherly pride deep in her belly. “His name is Raphael,” she said, unable to stop the smile burgeoning on her face. “He’s wonderful. He looks a bit like your barista, actually—without the cheesy tattoos, obviously. He’s only eleven.”
“Ramon?” Nix asked. “He’s from the Philippines.”
Raphael was from Australia. An unwanted little boy, thrown from one foster family to the next. Until now.
“We’ll be having a final meeting with our boy tomorrow,” Jamie told Nix.
Our boy! Kate closed her eyes and saw his sweet, shy face in her mind. It was real. They were having a child. Her uplifted heart outweighed the low-slung problems in her stomach. Life was so good. The heatwave was great.
“Congratulations,” Nix said, “that’s fantastic news.”
“Thanks,” Jamie said. “My sister is joining us—that’s why we need the extra place.”
“No problem.”
“We’re going to learn Portuguese,” Kate said, opening her eyes.
Jamie looked up from the menu. “Raphael doesn’t speak Portuguese.”
“No, but he should. It’s where his forebears hail from.”
“Okay.” Jamie handed Nix his menu. “I’ll have the beef tenderloin, extra asparagus and mashed potatoes on the side. And next time we’re in Sydney, I’ll be asking for it in Portuguese.”
“And?” Nix’s dark brown eyes held humour as she asked Kate the big question.
Nothing. Dry toast. Or a crispbread. “I’ll have the Tasmanian Ocean Trout.”
“Too easy.” Nix left and Kate concentrated on the wire breadbasket. She’d try a rye bread roll, no butter.
“Katie, you don’t like fish.”
She shrugged, but didn’t glance up at her all-knowing husband. “I’ll only be looking at it. You can eat it. I’m not eating.” She pulled the basket towards her.
“Katie…”
She bowed her head and scrunched her eyes closed. “It’s impossible, Jamie.” It couldn’t be right. Her silly gut instinct had got it wrong.
“What is?” Jamie prised the basket out of her tightened fingers and took hold of her hand. “Tell me.”
It wasn’t the place or the time to mention…what she’d been wondering. “I just—you know—I mean, I…” her voice trailed off. Impossible. Baby boots impossible.
“Kate, sweetheart.” His lowered tone, rough with care, made Kate look up at him. It was difficult keeping anything from him, but Kate gave it a go with a smile, then blinked at the love of her life, knowing in her soul she couldn’t hide anything from him and didn’t want to.
He looked at her for a long time, his brow furrowed and his gaze pounding into Kate’s. “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” he said at last.
Kate’s heart swelled so big she couldn’t punch it down. “I can’t be,” she said in a whisper as air filled her lungs. For years they’d tried—enjoying every “try” but not scoring a baby. Five years, two months and zilch. Diddly-squat. Her eggs didn’t like swimming with the boys, they preferred their own party and didn’t want guests.
“You might be. It’s not been like this before, has it?”
He was right. Every time she’d thought, okay, possibly this time, it was a negative single pink line. The times she’d felt morning sickness must have only been morning hope. “I can’t be.”
“Why don’t we check?” he asked.
Kate swallowed the sick feeling, but it bounced against hope nevertheless. “We’re going to be a family of three. I’m happy with that.”
“So am I, but if we become a family of four, better for all. Let’s check, Katie.”
We’re swimming. We’re swimming, the sperm said. We might have arrived. You need to check. Okay, so maybe she’d check. One more time. “They won’t take Raphael off us, will they?” she asked, joy from wonder and fear of failure colliding like a bag of marshmallows thrown at a Knight Works fourteen tonne digger. “You know, like—if.”
“No way. We wouldn’t let them. He’s ours and we’re his.”
“I don’t want to go to the show anymore.”
“We won’t. We’ll wait for Megan to join us then go back to the hotel. We’ll get a pregnancy test from an all-night pharmacy.”
“No need,” Kate admitted, feeling her face flush. “I bought one. This morning, while you were out getting trowels and plumblines and I was supposed to be buying postcards.”
“So go check.”
“Here? Now?”
Jamie stood. “Here. Now.” He picked up the water jug and poured into a glass.
“I don’t need that. I can pee.” Kate picked up her evening purse and pulled out the all-day, anytime, any-kind-of-pee pregnancy test she’d hidden in the notes compartment.
“Are you sure?” she asked Jamie.
“Do you want to wait?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. Go pee, Katie.” He smiled at her. “Do you think they’d let me come in with you?”
Kate found a grin on her face. “That’s a little perverse,” she told him as she stood, “for a public place.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Back in a sec.” She tiptoed across the floor, still barefoot but her stilettos would only hinder. She was on a mission. Jamie’s sperm needed her to get to the toilet fast.
“Hey, Katie Knight!”
She turned to Jamie, but kept walking backwards.
“Any result. Doesn’t matter, okay?”
She nodded, her smile quivering on her lips. Solid, sexy, sensational man. All hers. All storms. Through the lot. She turned for the ladies, tripped on the leg of a chair some guy was sitting in, toppled sideways, smashed her funny bone on the tabletop and dropped the pregnancy test onto the guy’s lap.
“Shit! I need that!” She dove for the man’s knees.
The man opened his legs and the test fell through the gap and onto the floor. Kate fell through the gap—head down—and made a grab at whatever she could to steady herself.
“Lady, get off my legs!” He had his hands on her waist, wrangling to get her off his knees.
“Kate?” Jamie called.
“Don’t touch it!” She yelled, knocking the man’s hand away as he tried to reach it. “You don’t know where it’s going.” And she wanted it clean.
“For God’s sake!” The man pushed back against his chair and took his hands off her.
“Got it!” Kate pulled herself up and banged her head on the underside of table. ‘Ouch.’ She braced herself with a hand on the man’s… “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
“Get your hand off that!”
She’d grabbed his…arsenal. His missile. His swinging bits. Holy moly.
“Excuse me, could I have my wife back?”
Jamie hauled her up and to her feet. “Are you okay?” He led her a few steps away from the fracas she’d caused.
“Oh, God, Jamie, I touched his…” Kate trembled, clutching the test stick in her hand.
“I don’t want to know, Kate.”
“It was an accident. I only ever touch yours.”
“I believe you.”
“Sorry about this, sir.” Nix’s voice echoed in Kate’s head with a calm clarity. “The lady’s unwell. Why don’t we freshen this wine with another bottle—on the house.”
“I’ll pay,” Jamie said.
“No need,” Nix said. “You’ve got your hands full.”
“I need to pee,” Kate told Nix, waving the packaged test wand.
“Of course you do.”
Jamie waited at the bar, his focus on the ladies restroom, willing the door to open.
Doesn’t matter, he told himself. Which-way. So long as Kate’s okay.
“This is a little nerve-racking.”
Jamie started. He forced a smile for Nix. “We’re used to it. Been at this point a few times.”
“How long has she been in there now?”
Jamie glanced at the oversized cafe clock above the bar. “Four minutes.” Time enough to pee. Time enough for the damn thing to show a single pink line. Maybe she was crying. Shit, he hoped not. Not when she was locked in a ladies-only cubicle. “I’m going to give her two more minutes,” he told Nix. “Then I’m going in.”
“I’ll go first,” Nix said. “Clear the way. And if you need it, there’s a room out the back. You can both spend a bit of time in there.”
If they needed it.
Jamie didn’t care about anything except having Kate with him. They both wanted children, but the kids didn’t have to come from either of them as far as he was concerned. They were adopting a boy now, and they’d adopt another young child. Perhaps they’d adopt ten kids.
“How long now?” Nix asked.
Jamie looked up at the clock. “Christ, this is killing me. I have to go in.”
Nix put a hand on his arm to halt him.
The restroom door burst open.
Jamie tried to focus on Kate, but his vision had hazed.
“Jamie Knight,” she called. “Remember how I said I hadn’t told anybody any of our business but they knew it anyway?”
Um…yeah. He kind of remembered but surely this wasn’t the time…
“Well, I’m spilling the beans,” Kate continued. “Right here. I don’t care if everyone knows. I don’t care about the pain—”
Oh, Christ…
“—of humiliation. So watch out, Mr Knight, because I’m going to hurl myself into your arms in front of all these people.” She paused, and Jamie tried to take a breath.
Katie, Katie—you crazy woman. “I love her so much,” he said.
Nix let go of his arm and stepped back.
Kate lifted her hand, smiled and waved the test wand at him. “Two pink lines!”
“Two?” Christ—two?
“Congratulations,” Nix said quietly. “I’ll open the champagne—and the ginger ale.”
A woman stood and started clapping. Then another. Suddenly each woman in the cafe was on her feet, applauding. Some guy wolf-whistled and then another. The noise in Jamie’s head was a mixture of thunderous shock, forks tapped glass, chairs scraped on the wooden floor as everyone stood.
Jamie headed for his wife, his heart as full as a barrel of the best cognac.
Kate dashed towards him, her smile as wide as the river back home; barefoot and beautiful in the middle of a smart Sydney restaurant and Jamie thanked God for having found Kate.
He caught her, held her.
“You’re crazy,” he told her, his mouth against her hair, his arms around her.
“We’re going to be four, Jamie.”
Hell, he’d been happy being two, but if they suddenly became seventy-two that was fine by him. As long as she stayed with him. Always.
“You know what this means?” she whispered. She pulled from him and beamed up at him; she floored him, stunned him.
So this was the bloom he’d heard about. He’d been looking at it all week and had thought it was the heat and the designer label shopping.
“What?” he asked.
“Swallow’s Fall population count is gonna hit one-hundred-and-one.”
Jamie grinned. “And you hit my heart, Katie.” Every time, and all over again.
About 12 Days at Silver Bells House by Jennie Jones
Christmas—Australian country style: there’s no snow, there’s a heatwave and a problem with Santa. Fortunately, there’s mistletoe…
Kate Singleton has twelve days to find herself. With Christmas Day and her thirtieth birthday approaching, the best thing a city-chic fashion designer who no longer has a raison d’être can do is nullify herself in the country. With chardonnay.
When trouble strikes, the country presents her with Jamie Knight—a gallant but uncommunicative He-Man who drives an excavator and rescues her, her shoes, and her case of chardonnay from a boggy field.
The adventure should be over—nothing but a good story to tell to her friends in the city—but her saviour turns out to also be an unexpected roommate, the new owner of Silver Bells House, Kate’s holiday home.
Forced together and dragged into the community Christmas spirit of the town, Kate and Jamie flounder their way through mistletoe, kissing games, carolling choirs, and a bone-deep yearning for community and acceptance.
Can the enchanting Silver Bells House and the holidays bind them together? Or will love get lost on Highway B23 back to the city?