A Fallow Heart

by Linda Kage

  Unable to refuse him now, Jo Ellen dropped her shoulders and graciously accepted, “Oh, well…I’d love to see Loren.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “Think she’s got any of those famous chocolate chip cookies of hers sitting around?”

  His features pinched tight as if her question physically injured him. Then he bowed his head. “She always does.”

  “I’d like to visit Thad in the nursing home sometime too…if that’s possible.”

  Again, Cooper’s face filled with what she realized was grief. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But a moment later, he nodded and pushed out the rusty words, “I’m sure we could manage that, though I can’t promise he’ll recognize you. He only knows who I am on good days.”

  Her chest packed tight with compassion and sympathy. “It must be tough.”

  He blew out a breath. “We’re managing.” He forced a brave face though she could clearly see he just wanted to convince her things weren’t as bad as they actually were.

  Jo Ellen dropped the subject. After glancing at the clock, she eased back into a chair and wondered how much longer it would take before someone updated them with news…any news. When a baby’s muffled wail rent the air, she lifted her face, holding very still, waiting…

  But no one came to the waiting room with news. With a heavy sigh, Cooper dropped into a chair two spaces down from her. “Must not have been our baby.”

  She stared at him a moment, the words “our baby” falling from his tongue made her shiver again. Suddenly, the cold air drowning her, her reaction to the man next to her, and her worry over Lexi’s baby was more than she could take.

  If they had to sit around here much longer she’d— “Really, how long does it take to have a baby?” Lurching to her feet, she began to pace the room.

  Cooper chuckled. “I imagine it takes a while.” When she scowled at him, he sobered immediately. “Sorry.”

  Growling in her throat, she spun away and walked to one wall only to retreat to the next. “Shouldn’t someone have at least come out by now to give us an update?”

  This time, he kept silent and only shrugged when she speared him with a questioning glance.

  Oh, this was awful. “Something must be wrong,” she said under her breath, working her fingers into frantic knots. Without Emma Leigh here, keeping her composer no longer mattered. The panic attack she’d been shoving down all evening rose in her throat like heartburn, unexpected and acidic.

  “Something…something awful’s happened,” she gasped out, sure of it. “What if the baby’s—”

  “Hey.” Cooper’s low, concerned voice and his warm hand on her arm made her jump. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  She yanked back, dislodging his touch. “You can’t know that.”

  Shock filled his face as he straightened his spine. “No,” he finally said, his voice calm and steady. “I guess I can’t know for certain. But neither can you know it’s not going to be fine. Either way, neither of us has any control over the outcome. So wouldn’t you rather believe in good results until we find out the truth?”

  Her chin trembled. She felt irrepressible fear and sorrow rattle up into her jaw line, the sensation to cry stinging her eyes.

  “Jesus, darling.” His voice went hoarse. He reached for her again. This time, she didn’t shove him away and from the way he forcibly gathered her into his arms and held her close, she had a feeling he wouldn’t have let her break loose anyway. “Don’t cry.”

  She clenched her teeth, bowed her head, and squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m not.”

  “Christ.” His hand trailed up and down her arm where her skin had begun to prickle, his warm fingers chasing away the cold. “Your arms are freezing.”

  And he was so warm. Soaking in his heat, she cowered closer, tucking her head just under his chin. She heaved in a gulp of air and absorbed the faint smell of leather and musk he radiated.

  Sharing his body heat with her, he rubbed both her arms briskly. “Better?” he asked after a minute.

  She nodded, too afraid to look up and too deliciously warm to move away.

  “Good. Now repeat after me. Everything is going to be fine.”

  She couldn’t help it; she smiled. “Everything is going to be fine,” she parroted into his chest.

  “That’s more like it.” Humming out his appreciation, he hugged her tight, then eased his hold. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  He immediately lowered himself without waiting for her response, and she found them going down with her settling on his lap. She should’ve been scandalized, but she was too afraid for Lexi, and too warm and grateful for his comfort to move.

  Cozy and protected, she closed her eyes, relaxing against him as her mind traveled into the past.

  “Thinking about your miscarriage?”

  She zipped her gaze up to find soulful brown eyes watching her. When his gaze fell to her hand, she took her fingers away from her abdomen where she hadn’t realized she’d been rubbing small circles. Blushing madly, she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

  “Just because it happened to you doesn’t mean it’ll happen to Lexi,” he said.

  God, how did he keep reading her mind?

  “I know. I just…it’s not going to stop me from worrying until we hear news otherwise.”

  “Yeah. I don’t reckon it would.” He stroked her hair once then dropped his hand, looking regretful. “Do you ever wonder what she would’ve been like if she had survived? Your baby, I mean.”

  Jo Ellen blinked and lifted her attention from his knee she was balancing on. The hard muscles under her bottom didn’t even budge. When their gazes met, she swallowed. “Why did you say she?”

  His eyes flared and the tops of his cheeks flamed pink. Glancing away, he cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I just…I always imagined a miniature you. So whenever I think on it, I automatically slip in the feminine pronoun.” He looked embarrassed as he glanced away.

  Her heart swelled as she confessed, “I always picture a little girl too.”

  His attention swerved back to her, his brown eyes seeing too much.

  She’d never told anyone that, and she sensed he knew it. After she had come home from losing her baby, none of her relatives had spoken of it, acting as if it had never happened. Well, Grady had acknowledged it in a roundabout way. After his wife, Amy, had a miscarriage, he’d called Jo Ellen and begged her to come visit.

  “Please, she needs you. You’re the only one who understands what she’s going through.”

  Amy had taken her baby’s loss badly and refused to talk to Grady afterward, refused to talk to anyone. Grady’s call had sounded so desperate Jo Ellen had immediately returned to Tommy Creek. She’d spent two days with Amy, sitting beside her. But her sister-in-law hadn’t talked to her either. So she’d gone back to Dallas. The next day, Grady called and thanked her, reporting how Amy had finally spoken to him.

  It was so strange. The loss of an unborn child affected every woman different. Jo Ellen just hoped Alexa wouldn’t have to experience it for herself.

  “I bet she would’ve had your dark hair and blue eyes,” Cooper mused. A wistful smile lit his full lips.

  Jo Ellen grinned fondly as well. “Yeah.” She hoped so. Any reminder of Travis would’ve been—

  “Do you think…” he hesitated, his brow furrowing as if he suddenly wasn’t sure if he should continue.

  Jo Ellen opened her mouth to encourage him to keep talking. She liked wondering about what could’ve been. But Dexter darted into the room, making her gasp and fly to her feet.

  Her face heating madly, she yelped, “Dexter!” and smoothed down the front of her shirt in a nervous gesture.

  He paused, blinking at her then Cooper before he glanced around the waiting room. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Uh…Emma Leigh had to go home to feed Brand.” Jo Ellen waved her hands to encourage him on with his news. It was impossible to tell from his appearance and expression how things wer
e. His clothes were wrinkled, hair a wild mess, and lines of exhaustion strained his face. “How’s…everyone?”

  Dexter beamed, his features lighting with pride and excitement. “Lex is tired but doing great.”

  Pressing her hands to her lips as her relief made her almost dizzy, she whispered, “And the baby,” but she already knew. He was okay. Thank God.

  “Five pounds, two ounces,” Dex crowed. “His lungs aren’t quite fully developed yet, so they have him on a respirator. But other than that, he’s got all his fingers and toes and a head full of Lexi’s coppery hair.”

  Happy tears pricked Jo Ellen’s lashes. “Can we see him?”

  “Sure, just come to the window of the nursery. I’ll go make certain the shades are drawn up for you to look in.” He hurried off and Jo Ellen followed, distinctly noting how Cooper trailed along behind.

  She couldn’t ignore his presence, especially when Dex abandoned them in a hall and slipped into the maternity ward. A minute later, he lifted the blinds and waved their attention to a corner, pointing out a tub with the nameplate reading Clayton Glen Pratchett.

  Behind the chicken wire glass, the baby on the breathing ventilator kicked and screamed. His face turned a deep red as he let everyone know he did not appreciate his breathing treatment.

  Jo Ellen wiped at her eyes, reveling in the sight of new life. “Well, it doesn’t sound as if anything’s wrong with his lungs.

  Beside her, Cooper chuckled. “He sure is an active little critter, isn’t he?”

  She glanced sideways at him, surprised by his interest and enthusiasm. She liked what she saw, liked his large and steady presence beside her, liked his warmth still invading her limbs. A craving filled her to step closer and press against him so he’d loop a supportive arm around her shoulders.

  But he kept a respectful foot of space between them and slid his hands into his back pockets as he watched Dexter and a nurse crowd around the infant bassinet to soothe Clayton Glen.

  “I think the boy just wants his mama,” he interpreted. When Jo Ellen didn’t answer soon enough, he turned his attention to her. His grin dropped when he found her watching him. “What’s wrong?”

  She licked her lips, pushing aside the ache in her chest. “We should probably leave the new family to their privacy. It’s been a long night. They need their rest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  In the cab of Cooper’s darkened truck, the long ride back to Rio’s bar for Jo Ellen’s car started awkwardly. He drove an older model Ford pickup, which still possessed one of those long bench seats. She couldn’t help but wonder if a lady friend ever sat in the middle of the seat, knees constantly bumping the gear shifter so she could get as close to him as possible whenever he took her out on the town. Jo Ellen knew how warm it was to sit flush against him; her body was still tingling from the contact.

  Yet his tempting allure only made her more leery. She was no good at the dating thing. It was safer to stay away, especially when she found someone who interested her; the more she liked a man, the more it hurt when he left her.

  A lonely shiver passed up her spine. She huddled next to the passenger’s side door and stared out the window at the black night.

  Cooper glanced over. “Are you cold?” He immediately reached out to tone down the A/C.

  Instead of telling him she actually felt a little warm, she rasped, “Thank you.”

  He cleared his throat. “So you’re staying with your parents while you’re in town?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Not a very forthcoming answer, but she didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to encourage the conversation, but words escaped her.

  He didn’t ask anything else, probably assumed she didn’t want to talk, which only made her feel worse. Yes, she wanted to steel her emotions against him but she didn’t want to alienate him completely. She still had ten years’ worth of guilt to apologize for.

  By the time they rolled into the bar and grill’s now-empty parking lot—save for her hybrid—shame gnawed at her conscience.

  When he geared into park, she rotated toward him and blurted, “Cooper, I owe you an apology.”

  She could see his eyebrows arch in the glow of the dash lights as he met her gaze. “You do?” Surprise and confusion coated his voice. “Why’s that?”

  “I…” You came back to Tommy Creek to make things right with everyone, Jo Ellen. So spit it out, already. “I’m…I just…” Mercy be, she really sucked at this. Sighing out her defeat, she ran a hand through her hair and muttered, “I don’t know how to deal with you.”

  As soon as the words passed her lips, she flinched, not sure why she’d gone and revealed that to him.

  “You…” He sounded even more bewildered as he fumbled with his words before managing to ask, “Why? Have I insulted you in some way?”

  “No!” She rushed to assure him. “No, it’s not that at all.” Then she shrugged, though she knew exactly why he unsettled her. “Just the opposite actually. You’ve been too nice, and I don’t deserve it. I…there’s just so much uncomfortable history between us, so many unresolved loose ends. You know things about me only my closest family knows. And you’ve kept my…my teenage issues private for me all these years.”

  “Jo Ellen.” He blew out a long breath, sounding exasperated if not a trifle insulted. “If you’re afraid I’ll blab—”

  “No!” Yet again, she was quick to calm him. “No, I know you’re reliable. I just…I mean, you…God, you must think I’m a total slut.”

  His eyes actually widened as he sputtered. “Not at all.”

  She narrowed her gaze unable to believe him. “Not even after that night?” she insisted. “I know I came onto you. And I was probably already pregnant. I remember reaching for your…your…and you pulled my hand away, stopping me.”

  As he flushed and coughed into his fist, she felt her own face grew hot. Ducking his head, he mumbled, “I didn’t stop everything you tried.”

  The heat that had just filled her cheeks drained out immediately. “Oh my God. I gave you a hand job, didn’t I?”

  Instead of sending her a guilty nod, he burst out laughing. She caught her breath, drawn by the honest, open sound. Everything about this huge, beautiful man was so honest and open; polite and courteous. He was simply too good to be true.

  “No,” he managed to say through his chuckles. “You didn’t do that.”

  Her shoulders slumped, a little bit with relief and strangely enough, a little bit with disappointment. She felt like an oven top, the burner constantly changing from bright orange to no color while her body only grew hotter, because her face which had been chilly a second before, and hot a second before that, returned to scalding.

  Curious, she had to ask, “So…um, what exactly didn’t you stop me from doing?”

  “A kiss,” he admitted nearly on a whisper. His pale brown, whiskey eyes lifted. “Then another kiss.”

  She cleared her throat, trying to remain professional, unaffected. With a nod, she hoarsely admitted, “I remember some kissing.”

  “Do you remember when I braced your back against the wall of your house right by the back door?” he asked. He seemed closer all of a sudden. She would’ve sworn he hadn’t moved, and she knew she hadn’t moved, but the space between them looked entirely nonexistent, when there’d been plenty of room a second ago. “And how I kissed you some more, our bodies pressed tight, our hands all over each other, our mouths open and seeking?”

  “No,” she croaked, gulping as her throat contracted, unable to help but envision the scene he drew as if she could almost recall it exactly as he described. “I don’t remember that.”

  He confirmed it with a bob of his head. “Then I, uh, I lifted my knee…up between your legs.”

  Heat suffused her…between her legs. She could dang near feel him there now, his warm, thick leg wedged tight against her as she—

  “You rode my thigh until…”

  When his words drifted off, her eyes
grew large. “Until?”

  His eyes dilated as he stared at her, his pupils so large they nearly swallowed the whiskey color whole as he confessed, “Until you came.”

  His quiet simple words made her body spark, a phantom bolt of pleasure igniting inside her.

  Her lips parted. “I…I…?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” she barely breathed out the word.

  “So you see.” He paused to clear his throat and glance out the front windshield at her parked car. “I’m the one who owes you the apology. I took advantage of you in the most intimate way possible. Then I went and upset you when you were pregnant, caused you to have a miscarriage, and—”

  She didn’t know how else to hush him, so she lifted her hand and set it over his mouth.

  Instantly, he stopped talking. Warm, moist breath rushed across the tips of her fingers.

  “Is that what you think?” she asked, incredulous. “That you caused my miscarriage? Cooper, you were the only person trying to help me. You didn’t leave me stranded when you found out I was pregnant. You didn’t threaten to put my baby up for adoption.” He opened his mouth under her hand so she swiftly inserted, “You did not cause my miscarriage. And you certainly didn’t take advantage of me. No other boy in your boots would’ve stopped when you did.”

  “I nearly didn’t stop.” He closed his eyes, his face ravaged by obvious guilt.

  The vibration of those words against her skin sent another shock of awareness up her arm. She shivered and shook her head, unable to believe how much heat pooled in her belly, or how much shame swirled in his gaze.

  He’d honestly felt guilty all these years, thinking he’d wronged her. She wanted to put her arms around him and hug him. She instinctively knew little, petite her could comfort this enormous, muscled man with his wide shoulders hunched in humiliation. She could take all his misery away…if only she had the nerve.

  Chickening out, she licked her lips and dropped her hand from his mouth. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  He glanced at her with an amused smile. “You already said that. And I still don’t know what you have to be so sorry about.”