Page 110 of Surprised By Love

I look up to see Mac standing in the doorway, nodding.

“I’ll be there in five.”

I hang up the phone, stand, and grab my jacket from the back of my chair.

“You good?” Mac asks.

“Not sure yet. Mom called and said she wanted to talk. Can you man the station while I go see what’s going on?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

I tap him on the shoulder as I pass him. “Thanks man.” I lookout my office window and see the snow falling. “Call me if something comes up and you need an extra set of hands.”

“You bet,” he says and heads to my desk, making himself comfortable. That’s the problem with having only one office at the station. We have a reception desk, a few cells and my office. The station is a house they renovated and turned into a police station almost forty years ago.

On the drive home, I try to think of what can be so important as to call me away from work.

Pulling into the driveway and my stomach clenches. I have a feeling this talk has to do with Sam. Mom already knows I don’t want to talk about it. I need to figure out what I’m going to do on my own.

I step inside the house, take off my snow-covered boots and jacket. I can hear voices coming from the dining room. As I enter, I see my mom sitting down with Emily and Jake. “We have to talk,” she says.

“About?” I ask, looking at each of the kids, then at my mother.

“About Sam.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Well, we do,” Emily says, her voice stern for a six-year-old. She looks over at her grammy.

Ma nods.

“We miss her. We miss her and Amelia. I see her at school but it’s not the same. It was so much more fun when they were here all the time.”

“Yeah. I miss Melia and her mommy,” Jake agrees.

“Do you not love each other anymore?” Emily asks.

I look at my mom and she shrugs.

“We didn’t love each other.” I don’t want to talk about this.

Emily crosses her arms over her chest. “You did too. I could tell.”

“What do you know about love, anyway? You’re six?”

“I know what I saw. When you look at her, you have the same look as she has when she looks at you, and it’s the same as Grammy and Grampy. The look of love.” She pauses and then continues. “Amelia saw it too, and she says her mom’s been crying a lot.”

I don’t know what to say, and I don’t have to worry as my mom takes the lead.

“Okay, thank you, Emily and Jake. Go play in your rooms. I need a moment to talk to your daddy.”

My mom puts her hands on top of mine and squeezes them. “What you’re feeling isn’t uncommon. You, of all people, know how short life is. I know you worry you are falling in love with her too fast that maybe you weren’t ready yet. But son, I can see in the way you look at her and the way she beams when she’s with you. It is love.”

I try to talk, but she holds a hand up, stopping me before the words spill out.

“I know her being pregnant is scary for you, but—”

“How do you know—”

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