“Probably.” His voice changes as he moves through the water to me. “Nice view.”
With my head on his shoulder, my breasts float to the surface. His large palms rise out of the water to cover them, stirring the heat simmering in my pelvis.
“Mmm,” I sigh. “So we have Hector and… What’s your favorite girl name?”
“Mariska.” His lips are at my ear, and I feel my insides clench in response to how he says it, low and hungry. His hands slide down my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples.
My eyes flutter closed. “Besides that.”
“Renee.” His hands are on my hips, drawing them down through the water so I feel his erection at my lower back.
“Yes,” I whisper as his palm slides up my inner thigh just before two thick fingers plunge deep inside me.
“Then Renee it is.”
I’m riding his hand, eyes closed, when I reach around to grasp his cock. Names are forgotten as I position our hips to allow him to plunge deep inside me, stretching me.
“So big,” I whisper. We’re at the far side of the spring, where the rocks line the side and the depth is over my head. I hold onto them, wrapping my feet around his legs as he pumps into me hard and fast. One hand is on my breast gripping and squeezing while the other holds my waist steady, helping him ride out this moment.
“Oh! Oh, yes!” I’m moaning and meeting him at each push, reaching down with my hand to massage my clit faster and faster.
Ripples of pleasure tingle in my thighs, and my eyes roll closed as the orgasm erupts low in my pelvis. I gasp for breath gripping the rocks tighter as it grows, as Stuart rocks faster, his pelvis hitting my ass.
Leaning into me, he kisses me at the back of my neck, along my hairline, allowing his breath to fan over my shoulders. A wave of shimmering pleasure spills through my veins like warm liquid, and I come.
“Yes, oh, god yes!” My shoulders quiver with sensation.
“Fuck,” Stuart groans, strong arms tight around my waist, as he finishes, pulsing over and over inside me.
We hold on several moments, eyes still closed, as the soothing waters transport us back to earth. Our panting subsides, my heart rate slowly returns to normal, and soft lips touch my neck. I smile, tilting my head to meet his kiss.
“Let’s revisit those names a little later,” I say with a laugh. “I can’t be held to anything I said just then.”
“Okay.” Another kiss, and I turn in his arms to find those smoky hazel eyes glowing. “We should probably head back if we’re going to make the doctor’s appointment today.”
I trace my finger down his cheek. “It’s the only thing that could get me to leave.”
* * *
We’re out of the truck and walking up to the house when Sylvia meets us at the door smiling brightly.
“Congratulations, you two,” she laughs, catching us both in a hug. “I’ve been dying to say that.”
“You already said it to me,” I squeeze her arm.
“Yes, but we’re not sneaking around anymore, and I can be a proud grandmother to be. Again!”
“Congratulations.” Bill’s calm voice reaches us from the kitchen. “Winona’s cooking a special dinner to celebrate.”
Holding Sylvia’s arm, we walk to where he’s standing by the bar holding a dark soda I assume is a Pepsi. “We’d like to schedule that ultrasound as soon as possible,” I tell her. “Can I get the number for Dr. Brown?”
“It’s in my purse.” She gives my hand a pat and sets off down the hall to find it.
I continue into the living room and drop onto the sofa. Stuart goes to where his uncle is standing and says something I can’t hear. The two of them leave in the direction of Bill’s office, and I see my little horse trotting around the yard through the window.
“I’m outside,” I say to no one in particular and leave through the double doors behind the couch.
After our swim, I put on a long, floral skirt and tank top. I’m not quite big enough for maternity clothes, but my jeans and pants have gotten too snug to be comfortable. Still, I have on my cowboy boots, and when I get to the yard, I climb up on the fence and sit on the top rail to watch Jessie run.
She slows when she sees me, and I wonder if she might come to me the way I saw her walk up to Stuart yesterday. Climbing down into the yard, I try to remember how he did it. His hand was on his chest, and he made that clicking sound with his mouth.
Moving slowly toward her, I try it. “Here, Jessie,” I say in a soothing tone. “Come to me, girl.”
I’m holding my hand out, although I don’t have any of the treats he was giving her. I hope that doesn’t make her not trust me. Thinking the better of it, I pull my hand to my chest and just make the noise as I carefully walk to where she’s standing.
Freckles stands away to the side watching us. The other four horses have their heads in the hay, munching and disinterested.
“Come here, Jessie,” I say again softly and click my mouth.
Her large dark eyes are fixed on me, and I can almost see her thinking, trying to figure me out.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say in a sing-song voice. Her small, black head with the spattering of black freckles across the nose stills.
I’m almost to her. I feel like I can’t breathe as I reach out my hand again, slowly toward her black velvet nose. Her muscles quiver, and just as I’m about to make contact, Stuart’s voice cuts through the moment in a stern rebuke.
“Mariska!”
Jessie does a quick little two-step and jumps away, running to the fence and around the yard.
A frustrated exhale rushes out of my lungs in a huff. “I almost had her!”
“What are you doing?” I can tell he’s irritated. I’m irritated.
“You ruined it,” I grumble, stomping to where he’s standing outside the fence frowning. “I was so close to petting her, and you scared her away.”
“You were close to getting hurt. Now come out of there.”
I stand in place glaring at him defiantly, hands on my hips. “You said you were going to teach me how to train her.”
“I’m going to have to gentle her more first. Especially now.” The last part is muttered under his breath but his voice is louder when he commands me. “Come out of there now.”
“I’m pregnant. I’m not an invalid.”
“You still need to take it easy.” He says, climbing onto the fence. “Jessie is unbroken, and Freckles is flighty. She could kick you. Or worse.”
“I’m coming out,” I grumble, catching the top rail of the fence and waiting for him to jump down. “You don’t know the first thing about being pregnant,” I growl.
“Neither do you.”
My eyes flash to him, but he’s grinning, and I don’t feel like being angry. I cross the fence and drop down between his muscled arms holding the top rail on each side of my shoulder. “You’re infuriating.”
“You’re adorable.” Leaning forward he gives me a quick kiss. “Mom said the doc can see us this afternoon.”
“Just give me a few minutes to shower and change.”
I stomp back to the house, leaving him grinning by the fence.
Definites
Stuart
Doctor Brown points to the black screen where white echoes flicker across what looks like deep-sea images. Then all at once, a tiny profile appears, and I forget how to swallow. Right in the center of a small black cave inside a mountain of white, the outline of a perfect little baby lying on its back materializes.
“Oh my god!” Mariska’s voice breaks as she starts to cry silently.
I reach for her hand, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the screen. The doctor moves the wand over her stomach, and the outline comes in and out of view.
“There’s a good, thick line here.” The doctor points with her pen along the profile of our baby’s head. “Good skull formation.”
I can’t speak as she continues to move the wand. The spine is visible. Every little bone
in its little body shines like white light, and it looks like it might be sucking its thumb.
“She’s so beautiful,” Mariska sniffs. I glance at her then, and her face is beaming and wet with tears. We exchange a smile, our hands clasped so tightly, I can’t feel my fingers.
The doctor holds a segment still for several moments and we can see little legs propped upward and tiny feet.
“I’m taking pictures as we go,” she says. “They’ll be waiting for you when you check out.”
“Thank you,” Mariska says, wiping her cheeks. “Sylvia will be so excited to see them.”
“Your blood work shouldn’t take long to get back, but based on what we’re seeing here, your age and overall good health, I’d say you have very little to worry about.”
My stomach tightens at that. “Worry about?” Eyes on the doctor’s face, my brow lowers. “What would we be worried about?”
As happy as I am and as much as I love Mariska, I’m pissed at being out of the loop so long on this. I’m coming from behind, figuring out what all of this means, making sure my fiancée isn’t doing anything reckless like climbing into a pen with wild horses…
“Absolutely nothing—you have nothing to worry about.” The doctor has the nerve to smile as if I’m being silly. “It’s standard procedure to check for chromosomal abnormalities at this stage, that’s all.”
“Chromosomal abnormalities… that means…?”
“Down’s syndrome.” She points back to the screen, running her pen along our baby’s head. “This right here is a great indicator you have nothing to fear. Also, Mariska is young and healthy. It’s more an issue with older mothers.”
I turn and meet Mariska’s golden eyes. They’re glowing with tears, but at the same time, a sassy spark is in them. “You have to be patient with him, Dr. Brown,” she says. “He treats me like I’m made of eggshells now.”
Irritation bristles in my chest. “I just want you to take it easy and be careful.”
“Oh, no. Mariska should stay active,” the doctor says. “She can do pretty much whatever is comfortable all the way up to delivery. In fact, it’s better for her to be active. Active mothers are happy mothers.”
I’m sure she’s right. I’m also sure she’s referencing activities like jogging or swimming. Not riding horses or sleeping in primitive cabins in the middle of nowhere.
I take one more look at the tiny human peacefully resting in Mariska’s beautiful body and shake my head. “I’ll get her a treadmill.”
Both women laugh, and the doctor stands, removing the large white microphone-looking contraption and handing Mariska tissues.
“Get dressed, and we can meet in my office if you have any questions.”
I stand as well, seeing her to the door before returning to Mariska, who is wiping the blue gel off her stomach.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” her voice is quiet.
I can only catch her cheeks and kiss her again, long and deep. My thumbs trace a line across the top of her cheekbones, and I lean back and study her face.
“You’re amazing.” If I ever said it before, I mean it tenfold now. She only smiles, eyes still shining.
Back at the ranch, Mom and Bill pass the black and white ultrasound photos around exclaiming and pointing at different ones.
“I think the baby has your profile, Stuart!” Mom exclaims.
“Show me!” Mariska skips over to look, watching as my mother traces her finger down the sheet.
“I think you’re right!” she exclaims, looking up at me. I don’t see it.
When we got back from the cabin this morning, I’d had a quick talk with Bill about how this baby changes everything. He’d been very understanding, as always. The idea that we might one day take over the ranch isn’t off the table, but with Mariska due in the dead of winter in one of the most remote parts of the state, I can’t entertain such a notion now.
He’d responded in his usual hippie que sera, sera manner about how the future is a book already written or whatnot, and for the first time in my life, I understood why my dad had lost all patience with his younger brother when we were kids.
Sometimes you have to make decisions and not depend on the universe to work it out for you. You need definites and nows. Looking at my beautiful, pregnant fiancée, I feel this more than ever.
These thoughts are on my mind as we gather around the table for dinner. Winona prepared a bison roast complete with carrots, celery, and onions in a large pan. Mashed potatoes are served with the rich roast gravy, and the vegetables cooked with the meat are our sides. Soft rolls wrapped in a checkered cloth are passed around in a wicker basket, and everything smells as amazing as I’m sure it tastes.
My uncle leads a short blessing on the food and our coming baby from the head of the table, and we proceed to dig in. Sylvia sits at Bill’s right and her face is beaming with pride. The two of them exchange smiles every time their eyes meet, and I can see by their body language, they’re aching to hold hands.
Instead they share stories of my siblings and I when we were young. Mariska hangs on every word as if it’s water in the desert.
“Stuart was almost eight when Patrick was born.” Sylvia swirls a glass of red wine as she speaks. “He was already a little commander then. As soon as his brother started walking, Stuart started making rules about what he could and could not touch…”
They all laugh, but I can’t see what’s funny. “Patrick almost broke everything. I can’t understand why you didn’t stop him.”
“He was adorable,” she says with a laugh. Then she pauses, and her thoughts seem to travel somewhere else. “A lot of time had passed between the two of you. I guess I didn’t have the heart to scold him for breaking things that were easily replaced.”
At that point, my uncle does take her hand, and I feel like an asshole. I forgot about our stillborn sister Sophie, the baby girl who came between Patrick and me. Her death had a definite impact on my mother, and in turn, our entire family. My parents’ relationship never seemed to recover from the loss.
“That must be why Patrick says you were born a Marine.” Mariska takes my hand grinning. “You’ve been giving him orders since day one.”
My little brother’s penchant for escaping the consequences of his irresponsibility has always gotten on my nerves. Still, I’ve never hated him. I’ve just wished he would get his shit together and stop skating by on the skin of his teeth.
“Elaine is the best thing that ever happened to him,” I grumble.
“Hear, hear!” My mother calls out with a laugh. “She’s perfect for him. Just like you’re perfect for Stuart.”
She pats Mariska’s arm, and my fiancée turns in her seat. “What else did they do as little boys? And Amy! I want to know about Amy!”
I think back to what Mariska said at the ultrasound appointment. She’s expecting to have a girl.
“Stuart was my little man, but Patrick was always my sweet little charmer,” Sylvia says. “Yes, he tested the limits, but he would also pick me bouquets of wild flowers, and if I ever was upset about anything, he’d climb into my lap and hug me until it passed.”
“That’s so sweet!” Mariska leans her cheek on her hand, and I can’t help being irritated.
“He didn’t do anything to fix it,” I note.
“Sometimes just being there for someone is enough.” My mother’s voice is reproving, and I decide to bow out of this conversation. My parents seemed to forget any rules once Patrick and Amy came along. Amy was at least somewhat level-headed for a while.
“Amy was completely different,” Sylvia laughs. “She was always my baby girl, but she was as headstrong as Stuart. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she didn’t want anyone trying to hold her down or tell her what to do.”
“I understand that,” Mariska says, and my eyes move to her. She’s so pretty tonight. She’s wearing a black short-sleeved blouse that has a colorful southwestern pattern around the neck. Her short black mini is loose and shows off
her smooth, tanned legs. She’s very sexy, glowing and full of life. Her hair falls long over her shoulders in loose curls, chestnut touched with the faintest caramel highlights.
Mom is still talking about my sister. “It was hard when she went through her difficult stage in high school. I wanted to protect her so much, but I knew she wouldn’t respond well to my interference. I had to let her get through that time, and she’s stronger for it now.”
My feelings toward Amy tend to be a little more forgiving. She discovered the same heartbreaking truths about my father around the same time as me—only Amy is almost fifteen years younger than I am, and I had no idea she knew. When she started acting out, we thought she was just being a teenager. We had no idea her heart was breaking, and she was trying to manage the pain on her own.
“I can’t imagine watching your child suffer.” Mariska’s voice is quiet. “I don’t even know ours yet, and already I feel so protective of her.”
Her eyes drift to mine, and I smile. She’s so young. She has no way of knowing I’ll have no qualms about beating the shit out of anyone who mistreats our baby.
“You’re being very quiet, Stuart. How are you feeling about all of this?” My mother always manages to pull me back into conversations.
“If I’m quiet, it’s only because I agree with what you’re saying.”
“Wise man,” Bill says with a chuckle.
I nod in his direction feeling guilty for my thoughts from earlier. He’s only ever had my back my entire life. I can’t fault him for being who he is, and who the hell knows? He could be right about the future.
Dinner finished, we carry our plates to the kitchen. Bill walks into the living room while my mother prepares a cup of coffee.
“I think I’ll turn in,” I say, glancing at the clock. It’s after ten, and I’m an early riser.
Mariska wants to know more about what we did as children, but I want to take her to bed and hold her in my arms. Make sure she sleeps, and protect her from anyone who might disturb her. In the end, she concedes.
In our suite at the back of the house, Mariska slips off her skirt, followed by her loose top. She turns to the side in front of the full-length mirror and spreads her hands over her flat stomach again. “Coming soon,” she says in a silly announcer-voice.
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