Expecting a Scandal

by Joanne Rock

  Ruby lifted her head again, sensing the tension. She got to her feet and padded over to him, sitting beside him.

  “Abigail.” Vaughn wished he was better with words. Wished he had some way to make this hurt less for both of them. Already his chest ached like a weight sat there, crushing his ribs.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?” Her gaze went to the single tray. The single plate of salad.

  Time to make sure she understood.

  “I can’t.” It was that simple. And that complicated. “I know I asked to be there with you today.” He stepped closer to her, dropping into the seat by the sofa. “I wanted to be a part of this next phase of your life.”

  Her dark hair spilled over the wide straps of a sundress she wore, red with white polka dots.

  “I couldn’t have gotten through that appointment without you.” She reached for his hand and threaded her fingers through his.

  Regret carved a deep hole in him.

  He couldn’t imagine going through the rest of his life without touching her again. Without feeling this connection.

  But he untwined his fingers and stepped away.

  “I can’t do it, Abigail. I’m only going to end up hurting you and this sweet little girl that’s arriving this fall.”

  Her jaw dropped as she stared up at him. Then she snapped it shut. Her eyes sparked. “I don’t understand.”

  “You mean too much to me for me to check out on you when you need me most.” He shouldn’t have let the relationship go this far. He’d been weak when he’d sent her that text saying he wanted to be at the ultrasound appointment. “It’s better for you if we end things now.”

  * * *

  Hurt and anger wrestled inside her, battling for dominance.

  They elbowed her insides harder than any unborn child ever could.

  Setting her feet on the floor, she rose to stand in front of him, not even trying to rein in the feelings after the scare she’d had today.

  “You’re walking away now? After you told me how much you wanted to be by my side today?” She’d been prepared to walk away after the gala on Saturday.

  Yes, it had torn her apart to let things end. But she’d been ready to respect his wishes. She really thought he’d come to terms with the demons he battled so far. He’d been the one to insist on more, after all, knowing how hard it had been for her to let him into her life. And now, he was backing away. It hurt. So damn much.

  “I thought—I hoped—I could be a part of your future.” The anguish in his eyes was real enough. Ruby walked around him once, then leaned into him hard, pressing her head to his hip. “But I saw today how fast this facade I try to hold together could fall apart.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that, Abigail.” He shook his head. “That’s not the kind of support system you deserve.”

  “That news would devastate anyone with a pulse!” She didn’t want to raise her voice, but she felt it notching higher. “And you still have one, Vaughn, unless you’ve forgotten. Your life is a gift—something you should see better than most people after the service you gave your country. But you’re frittering it away like it means nothing to you.”

  He looked stunned silent.

  Said nothing.

  And she realized she wasn’t close to done.

  “Don’t you owe it to the brothers in arms you lost not to take your life for granted?” She blinked hard against a surge of grief for her sister, the wave so strong it threatened to level her. “My sister died, and I hate that. But if she had pulled through, Vaughn, she wouldn’t squander her days, scared to live.”

  Vaughn’s shoulders were tense. His features frozen. Expressionless. She’d lost him already, she could tell. And her angry words were only making him retreat further.

  Ruby shifted her weight on her front paws. A tiny hint of her own anxiety. Abigail felt like the worst kind of heel, but if she didn’t call out Vaughn for taking his happiness for granted, who would?

  “I’ve given my life to my work,” he said finally. “I’m making a difference the best way I can.”

  “A noble sacrifice.” Who wouldn’t admire the way he’d given up everything to be the best surgeon possible? The most giving? “But you’re still breathing, Vaughn. I hope one day you take the time to enjoy it and find happiness.”

  He studied her with remote green eyes, the way he might study a case file or a difficult patient. Assessing.

  “I’m sorry, Abigail.” The simple words revealed the huge, yawning divide between them. “I wish it was that simple. But it’s not. And I’m...so damn sorry.”

  She had no words to express how much that hurt her. How much he hurt her.

  When she failed to speak, he gave a small nod. An acknowledgment that there was nothing more to say. “I’ll show myself out.”

  He turned on his heel, Ruby following behind him.

  Abigail covered her mouth with her hand to make sure she didn’t call after him. Ruby, at least, spared her a glance back before they walked out of her house.

  She felt something wet hit her collarbone and realized tears were sliding down her face. She swiped at them impatiently. No way would she spend tears on a man who hid behind his work at the expense of a real connection with anyone.

  At the expense of love.

  Closing her eyes, she didn’t want to acknowledge that thought. She couldn’t have possibly let herself fall in love with a man who would never risk his heart for her. And if she had, she wanted to go on denying it until her own heart stopped breaking.

  Thirteen

  The next morning, Abigail stared listlessly at her sketchbook.

  Charcoal in hand, she hoped to draw something—anything—to take her mind off her worries for her baby. She hadn’t slept all night, fear for her unborn child sending her to the internet to read everything possible about kidney defects detectable in utero. That, of course, only frightened her more.

  And while it was wrong of Vaughn to join her for the ultrasound if he didn’t plan on sticking around, she could recognize today that her reaction had been fueled by fears for her little girl. Emotions had been running high yesterday.

  Now, she also had to contend with the hole in her own heart over losing Vaughn. She gripped the charcoal tighter between her fingers and sighed. She’d been in her seat by the studio window for almost twenty minutes now, and she had nothing to offer the blank page. No inspiration. No emotion.

  She wished she could at least express her anger. Her frustration. But her tears were spent now after a sleepless night. Even the anger had faded since she’d vented her emotions on Vaughn the day before. She still felt the same crushing disappointment about what he’d done, yet, she sure did regret the way she’d expressed those things to him. Setting down the charcoal, she shoved aside the sketchbook and stared out the window instead, her gaze tracking a hummingbird bobbing around the special red feeder she’d installed so she could watch them drink. Bright emerald and blue, the bird darted in to press its long beak into the sugar water.

  Not even the sight of her favorite feathered friend inspired her.

  She regretted accusing Vaughn of not living his life. And, knowing how hard he battled his PTSD, she regretted suggesting how he should honor his fallen comrades in arms. It hadn’t been her place. She would have bristled if someone told her how she should or shouldn’t be honoring Alannah’s memory.

  There was no right way to grieve.

  Restless, she moved to her carving tools instead, taking a seat at a table where she did detail work to play with a thick piece of hickory that hadn’t spoken to her yet. The grain was wavy and warped, the lines moving in unexpected directions—maybe a branch had fallen away, giving the tree a lumpy knot to heal over. She traced the misshapen bits with her finger before tugging on a pair of gloves and picking up a gouge.

  There was interest in the misshapen. Unlike things t
hat were traditionally beautiful—perfectly formed with symmetry that pleased the eye—there was a different kind of beauty in nature’s scars. The odd line that made you look a second time. The unexpected angle that forced the eye to linger.

  The healed-over scars were strong. The lumpy branch had gone on long after a part had fallen away. Tough but thriving.

  Abigail gouged deeper and deeper. Around and around. She formed circles, not sure where they were going but liking the feel of the wood in her hands. The smoothness she brought to the wood without taking away the erratic look of the grain. She had moved onto the chisel, finding figures in the wood as she worked.

  A baby in the middle of it all.

  Just a tiny form, but a uniting presence in the center. And arms going around it. Fluid, slender arms. Then, around those, another pair. Strong and muscular.

  The chime of her phone beside her dragged her from intense concentration, making her realize that she’d found inspiration at last. Over an hour had vanished without her realizing it. For a moment, she nursed a foolish hope that it might be Vaughn.

  But she didn’t recognize the number on her caller ID, dashing the idea right away.

  “Hello?” Straightening from her worktable, she juggled the phone to her ear and peeled off her gloves.

  “Abigail?” a male voice asked. “This is Dr. Hutchinson.”

  She tensed, waiting to hear more news about her baby. “Thank you for calling,” she said, managing to get the words out even though she felt like she’d been robbed of breath. Fear and hope made her neck prickle as she prayed the news was good. “Did you learn anything new?”

  She’d been uncertain of his next steps when she left the hospital the day before, thinking she’d quiz Vaughn about it more when they got home. But after their argument, Abigail realized she’d never gotten to do that.

  “Nothing definitive.” His voice was even, the sounds of the hospital around him—monitors beeping, a phone ringing, the PA system making an announcement in the background. “But I spoke to a colleague who specializes in hydronephrosis—the condition I suspected your child might have.”

  She’d read about that, too, a dilation of the kidneys. The problem could range in seriousness and required monitoring after birth, but it wasn’t life-threatening to her baby.

  “Did you rule it out? Or do you think that’s what it could be?” She drew in a breath. Held it.

  “We haven’t ruled it out.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but not gravely serious. Was that a good sign? “But my colleague agreed with me that if there is hydronephrosis, it is only to a slight degree.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she struggled to follow what he was saying. “That’s good, right? How serious do you think it is?”

  Gazing out her studio window, she hoped for good news with all her heart.

  “We are always glad to know about things like this ahead of time,” he explained as the background noise from the hospital behind him quieted. He must have stepped into an office or private hallway. “That’s why we look carefully at the scan. But to answer your question, we are not concerned about your baby’s development and don’t need additional scans.”

  The air rushed out of her lungs so fast she had to hold on to the windowsill. Relief flooded through her.

  “We will want to monitor the baby carefully at birth through the first few days to be sure the kidneys function properly so we can intervene quickly if necessary,” Dr. Hutchinson continued, “but treatment would be a short or more prolonged course of antibiotics. Nothing surgical.”

  Abigail felt like a boulder of worry had just rolled off her shoulders. Her baby would be fine. Healthy.

  “Thank you so much.” She wanted to shout it from the rooftops that her baby girl was all right. “I’m so happy I don’t know what to say.”

  On the other end of the call, the doctor surprised her with a warm chuckle. “As a new father to triplets, I assure you, I can identify with what you’re feeling. Nothing is more important to a parent than the health of their children.”

  As she disconnected the call, feeling like she had a new lease on life, her first thought was to contact Vaughn. He would want to know the baby was healthy.

  But would that be fair to him after the way she’d lashed out at him for drawing away? Her chest ached with the knowledge that it wouldn’t be right to call him now. No matter what, she loved Vaughn. She couldn’t deny that in the clear light of day now that she’d had more time to process the shock and hurt of the breakup. Yes, she still hurt from losing him. Yet she wanted him to be happy, even if that meant living the isolated life he’d chosen.

  She pulled her gloves back on and slid her safety goggles into place, taking her seat at the workbench. She would lose herself in her art for a little while, needing to give a voice to the knot of emotions inside her.

  At least she knew what she was sculpting now. A little statue that she would send as a gift to Vaughn. A small way to apologize for hurting him. It didn’t begin to patch the hole in her heart. But maybe, with any luck, it would help bring him a measure of peace to know that she and her baby still cared about him.

  And always would.

  * * *

  Vaughn smashed a tennis ball across the net on the courts behind the Texas Cattleman’s Clubhouse, venting his frustration with his racket.

  His opponent, Hutch, the same doctor who had read Abigail’s ultrasound scans, shocked him by returning the ball with an athletic backhand from the line.

  A return shot Vaughn couldn’t possibly reach.

  Damn.

  That meant he’d lost the game and the set along with it.

  “Nice shot,” he admitted grudgingly, sweat dripping down his back in the unrelenting Texas sun.

  They’d started playing early to get ahead of the heat, but they’d tied in game after game, extending the set far longer than Vaughn had imagined they would be playing. He had finally tracked down Hutch for a round of tennis, selfishly hoping to reassure himself about Abigail’s ultrasound. Vaughn knew better than to violate her privacy, not that Hutch would have allowed it. But since Abigail had invited him to be in the room during the scan, he thought that at least allowed him to know if he should be worried—if he should stop by and see Abigail or lend his professional weight to finding the best specialist the country had to offer. He would call in every favor he had to make sure she had the care she needed—even if she didn’t want him around.

  “I surprised myself.” Hutch grinned. “I think that burst of speed was fueled by the fear I was going to have to forfeit if we tied another game.” Shaking his head, he stalked toward the bench on one side of the courts, where there was a canopy for shade. “I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow.”

  Vaughn joined him at the bench where they’d left their bags and Ruby, in full view of the court and inside the fenced area for her safety. He dug in his cooler for a fresh water bottle and cracked open the cap, topping off Ruby’s dish before he released her to play, giving her one of his old tennis balls. The retriever could catch almost anything in midair.

  “I seriously doubt that.” Vaughn yanked off his headband and tossed it in the bag along with his racket. “Recover fast so I can have a rematch and restore my honor.”

  “Sure thing.” Hutch found his own cold drink and dropped onto the bench. He took the ball Ruby had already returned and tossed it to her again, the dog happily chasing it after her quiet time in the shade during the tennis match. “Have you spoken to Abigail recently?”

  Regret mixed with guilt. “No.”

  A situation he planned to remedy immediately.

  “I think you should get in touch with her.” Hutch’s eyes met his.

  Vaughn sank to the bench beside his friend, thoughts of Abigail—of how he failed her—a weight on his shoulders. On the tennis court next to them, a foursome set up for doubles. The
club was quiet, even for a weekday, the immaculate grounds mostly empty. A couple of young mothers sat poolside with small children in floaties, a lifeguard helping them keep the youngsters safe.

  That would be Abigail one day, playing with her baby girl. Vaughn wanted to be in that picture of the future with her. With her child.

  “I will.”

  “She deserves your support.” Hutch swung to face him, mopping a towel over his head while Ruby waited for another turn to retrieve the old tennis ball, her tail wagging slowly.

  “I—” He didn’t know how to admit how badly he’d screwed up. “I wanted to make things work with her. She’s the most...” He couldn’t even come up with the words to describe Abigail. She was so beautiful, inside and out. So warmhearted and generous. A bright light to everyone around her. “The most incredible woman I’ve ever met. But I panicked when I heard about the baby.”

  Shame and remorse filled him. She deserved a better man than him. That was the only facet of the breakup he didn’t regret. She should be with someone who would be there for her no matter what.

  “What do you mean?” Hutch pulled two oranges out of his cooler and passed one to Vaughn. “As in, you’re not ready to be a dad?”

  “No. That’s not it.” Taking the orange, he started to peel it, understanding in retrospect what had made him run. “I am already attached to that baby. But what kind of partner will I make for Abigail when I need to run home and hide out with Ruby every time life gets tough?” Breaking off a section of the orange, he shook his head, more certain than ever of his decision. “If Ruby hadn’t been there during the ultrasound, I might have lost it.”

  He didn’t understand how to deal with his emotions anymore. They came at him too fast, too hard, and they carried memories of times he didn’t want to remember. And no matter how much therapy he underwent, he couldn’t imagine his future being any different.

  “But you didn’t,” Hutch reminded him. “And if there’s anything in life worth breaking down over, it’s your kids.” The toughest competitor on any Royal Memorial sports team pounded his fist lightly against his chest. “I don’t mind telling you I would lose it if someone said my kids were in danger. That’s the worst life can dish out, man. And you dealt with it.”