Mom Over Miami - By Annie Jones Page 0,63
stunned.”
“By the age thing or the baby thing?”
“The baby. Definitely the baby.”
“Don’t you want another one?”
Didn’t she? Who wouldn’t want another baby?
Maybe a woman who daily questioned her ability to nurture and raise her current baby.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I think maybe our family feels complete already with Sam and Tessa. But what if Sam’s biological father takes him away? And if Payt wants another child…”
“You really are up in the air about this baby issue, aren’t you?”
“Up in the air. Down in the dumps. No wonder I’m afraid that if I don’t find some equilibrium soon, time may leave me high and dry.”
“Then don’t let it. And don’t be afraid, Hannah—leave it with the Lord and pray, and you’ll find your answers.”
“Thanks, Lauren.” She smiled, unconvinced the other woman truly understood her dilemma.
They sat there in silence for a moment, focused on the project.
Hannah couldn’t help but steal a peek at the other woman’s long, elegant fingers at work, though. Lauren’s rings glittered but never once snagged. She used her long, lovely nails as tools for poking seams into points, but the polish never chipped. How could someone like that comprehend how tender Hannah found the topic of adding to her family? If Lauren Faison wanted another baby, she’d do it without hesitation or mussing her hairdo.
If she wanted another child. But Lauren didn’t have another child. That meant she had to have faced the questions Hannah now faced and somehow come to a decision. A decision? Being Lauren, she had most likely arrived at the ideal conclusion.
Hannah had to hear it. She wet her lips and held her project in both hands in her lap. “Lauren, did you…do you ever think about having another child?”
“Me? No! Time has already run out on that for me.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Well, I was thirty-six when I had Stilton.”
“Thirty-six? No way. That would make you…”
“Don’t start counting on your fingers, if you don’t mind. Suffice it to say the baby train has left the station for me, and that’s okay.”
“You’re at peace with that?”
“Uh-huh. Stilton’s dad is sixteen years older than me, you know.”
Hannah had heard as much before she even met Lauren, but she never delved.
“And I was no sweet young thing when we met. In fact, I’d given up on finding a good, decent, marriage-minded man of faith completely, and thrown myself into my own real-estate business when Elliot came in to sell his house. He’d been widowed for two years, and the youngest child had gone off to college. He wanted to downsize.”
“So you sold his house?”
“Actually, I married him and moved into it.” Lauren laughed. “I won’t pretend I didn’t have plans to fill it up with children then. But then Stilton was born with a heart defect.”
Hannah gasped. “I didn’t know.”
“Small thing.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together to illustrate. “Huge scare. But it really taught us the blessing of leaving things in God’s hands.”
“What a story. So you chose not to have more kids because of Stilton’s health?”
“Hannah, what part of leaving it in God’s hands didn’t you get?” Lauren patted her hand. “It just didn’t happen and that’s that. All things turn out for the good for those who love the Lord, and all.”
Then your life isn’t one-hundred-percent perfection every minute of every day? You’ve had disappointments and things to overcome, too? She held her tongue, even though it almost killed her not to blurt out her latest revelation for confirmation.
“Anyway, my husband has three grown children. And two of them even have children, so if I need a baby fix I have the ultimate luxury of spoiling someone I can give back.”
“You’re like a grandmother?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“I can’t believe it. You look so…” Rested. Pulled together. “Vivacious.”
“Ooooh, great word. You must be a writer.”
“Some would argue otherwise.” She could visualize the blue square envelope leaning against her computer monitor even now. “But back to you, how do you do it? How do you do all the things you do for Stilton and look so fresh?”
“You know that saying—‘it takes a village to raise a child’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there ought to be a new one—it takes a major metropolitan area to maintain a middle-aged lady.”
They shared a laugh.
“The main thing—” Lauren took the mangled shell of a beanbag from Hannah’s hands and righted it without any real effort “—you have to make time for yourself. The things you need to be a good wife and mother and friend don’t come measured out in hours and