“Okay, I’ll do that,” she heard, Pixie say, then the door closed.
Maggie heard the gravel crunch under Mac’s feet as he walked away from the cabin, heard a door open and close, and the limo drive away.
Now she could let the pity party begin. Only Pixie came into the room and said. “He asked me to tell you he loves you. And he’s sorry.”
“Not interested.”
“Sure you are! You wouldn’t be holed up here if you didn’t care for him, just a bit.”
“Pix, you’re too young to understand the complexities of grown–up relationships, so just give it a rest.”
“I’m twenty–one!”
“You’ve never been in love.”
“Not for want of trying.”
“Are you going to talk all night?”
“If that’s what it takes to cheer you up, to stop you descending into the depths of despair.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?”
“I love you, sis.”
“I love you too, Pix. Now get out!”
“I’m going to sleep on the floor, right outside your door.”
“Whatever,” Maggie said and yawned. She felt completely drained.
Maggie was awoken next morning by the sound of the morning program on television and an overwhelming need to throw up.
She only just made it to the bathroom in time. Feeling like death warmed over, she wondered if she’d caught something at the concert––apart from a lethal dose of embarrassment.
But she’d felt sick yesterday morning, and the morning before, now she came to think of it.
“Oh, God,” she muttered as she rinsed out her mouth and splashed water on her face. Then she looked in the mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight, her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks blotchy, her skin sallow. She closed her eyes and fought her roiling stomach. She failed.
After several more attempts, she managed to brush her teeth and smear her face with sun cream. Deciding she felt better lying down Maggie headed back along the hallway to her bedroom. Only she heard her name from the television below in the living room and halted to listen.
“Everyone’s talking about the mystery woman who’s captured the heart of America’s most eligible bachelor, Jake McKade. The country music heartthrob presented school teacher Maggie Hansen of Coldwater, Colorado, a rock the size of Texas and it seems she turned him down!”
“Oh, Lord,” Maggie muttered as she made her way gingerly downstairs. Now she was the subject of television gossip.
Pixie spotted her and beamed. “Hey, sis! You’re on every channel! You’re like, some mystery woman. They all want to know why you ran away. They’re even offering a reward on one station! I’m thinking of calling in… Jesus, you look really sick.”
“No, kidding,” Maggie said and raced for the downstairs bathroom.
Five minutes later she emerged and said, “Can you make me some herbal tea and get me salted crackers, please?”
“Sure,” Pixie said, getting up and striding into the kitchen. “I recorded all the news items for you so you can watch them.”
“Wow. Just what I need, my humiliation broadcast in Technicolor. I’m surprised if there’s so much interest, the wolves aren’t baying at the door,” Maggie said, sinking into a comfy chair and reaching to mute the remote.
“They would be, but Mac’s hired security guards. They’re blocking the driveway.”
“He what? ”
Pixie returned with a plate of salt crackers. She picked up the remote and accessed a recording. “Watch.”
“After his public marriage proposal last night, Jake McKade has moved to protect his fiancé from the intrusion of media and fans by posting security at the entrance to his fiancée’s ranch—”
“Fiancée!” Maggie practically screeched as the news item, showing her front gate firmly closed and four armed guards patrolling the area. Luckily the South Platte River provided a natural barrier to anyone who managed to breech the human barricade.
“Yeah, cool, huh?” Pixie called from the kitchen. “Everyone thinks you’re engaged to Mac. I’m looking forward to having a famous brother.”
“Don’t even go there,” Maggie warned under her breath and reached for the phone, determined to call Mac and tell him to put the media straight, but then another wave of nausea hit her. She debated whether to stay put or race to the bathroom. Staying put required less effort, so she worked on breathing to calm her churning stomach.
Pixie placed a cup of green tea beside her and Maggie gratefully lifted it to her lips and sipped. Between the tea and the salted crackers, she started to feel a little better, but the images on the television bothered her. So much so that she turned it off.
“Where’s Gramps?” she asked. Gramps would provide sound advice. Gramps would tell Mac to lay off the overbearing non–fiancé tactics he seemed to be employing.
“He spent the night at Martha’s.”
“Say that again?”
Pixie rolled her eyes and plonked herself in a chair opposite. “You’ve been so engrossed in planning the festival and spending time on the phone with Mac that you haven’t seen what’s been going on right under your nose. Gramps and Martha have become an item.”
“So much of an item that they spent last night together?”
“And some other nights.” Pixie leaned forward in her chair and studied Maggie’s face. “You look really sick.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Are you pregnant?”
Maggie nearly spilled the tea. “What gives you that idea?”
“The salt crackers, the visits to the bathroom. And you’re kind of moodier than usual.”
“I am never moody!”
“Yeah, you are. Have you got a pregnancy kit? We could do a test.”
“Of course not!”
“I could run into town and get one, but since there aren’t any stores that would probably sell them in this backwater, I’d have to go over to Spruce Lake.”
“Which is a better idea, because if you could find one in town, it would be all over the county by nightfall that you were pregnant.”
“True,” Pixie conceded. “But since I look so fabulously healthy, they’d probably guess I was buying it for you anyway.”
Maggie groaned.
“So is there any possibility that you are pregnant?”
Maggie shook her head. Pixie knew nothing of the riding accident she’d had in her teens when she’d been thrown from a horse and kicked in the stomach. Her parents had been hiking in Nepal at the time—a lifetime ambition for both of them. Gramps had been looking after the girls when it had happened and had been beside himself with grief and guilt. Neither Gramps nor her other sisters knew about the prognosis. Could the doctors have been wrong?
They’d said there was a possibility she’d never have children. Maggie, racked with pain, alone and frightened without a mother to console her, had taken that to mean a probability.
Her parents returned home over a week later after they’d been tracked down and been able to get flights. Maggie had felt guilty for cutting their trip short and had never been able to confront them about the diagnosis, in case they blamed themselves.
“You look utterly miserable. I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow.”
“You’re not helping, you know,” Maggie snapped. “I look miserable because I feel on the point of throwing up any moment, I’m not speaking to the baby’s father, and I have no idea what to do about either.”
“So you are pregnant! I think you should talk to Mac.”
“No!”
“Then I should take you to the doctor in Spruce Lake. He can confirm if you’re pregnant, or just dying of some vomiting sickness and prescribe something.”
“I don’t want to move right now. Give me a day to settle down. I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll be able to think straight then. Decide what I have to do.”
“So you think you really are pregnant?”
“Y
eah. Maybe.” Maggie had been so busy, she hadn’t noticed the missed period. But she’d always been regular as clockwork and now she was two weeks overdue. A tiny kernel of hope and anticipation filled her. Could it be possible?
“Then Mac deserves to know.”
“Will you shut up about Mac!” Maggie snapped. She needed time alone to come to terms with this unexpected news, not have Pixie chattering like a bird.
“I told you, you are moodier than usual.”
“I’m sorry Pix, but this has hit me all of a sudden, I need time to think and not have you nagging about Mac or his rights or whatever this is leading to, okay?”
“’Kay. Was only trying to help.”
“I know you were, honey, and I’m sorry for snapping. I think I’ll go back to bed. And please, can you promise me to keep this between ourselves?”
When Pixie reluctantly nodded her head, Maggie hauled herself to her feet and slowly mounted the stairs.
She crawled beneath the covers and was asleep within moments.
Chapter Twenty–One
Mac was almost beside himself. The media had put such a spin on the story, that now they had him and Maggie officially engaged. He could imagine how she’d react to that when she saw the morning news. In fact he was surprised she hadn’t called him to tick him off for it.
He’d waved the last of his Nashville friends goodbye and thanked them for helping out with the concert, then checked with the security firm he’d hired to keep the media away from Maggie. If anything, there were even more outside–broadcast vans camped outside his and Maggie’s gates than there were earlier in the morning. He needed to make a public statement so they’d back off, but first he wanted to talk to Maggie.
Mac put a call through to Pixie who reported Maggie wasn’t feeling well and had gone back to bed. She said Maggie had been pretty upset by being referred to as his fiancée. “But I’d really like to have you as a brother–in–law Mac, so please don’t give up on her,” she said.
“Thanks, kid. I’d like to have you as a sister–in–law too. Can we put our heads together when it’s convenient with you and see what we can come up with to make that happen?”
“Sure, but right now, I need to stay home. I want to make sure Maggie’s okay.”
“I understand. You’re a good sister. And… I’m really sorry I messed up so badly.”
“It’s okay… Mac, do you really love Maggie?”
“Yeah.” He fought to keep the gruffness from his voice. He’d nearly lost it on stage last night when he’d seen Maggie, he’d been so overcome with love for her. And then he’d gone and messed everything up by making a spectacle of her. He hadn’t planned on asking her so publically, but when he’d seen her all sense had flown out the window and he’d dropped to his knees and pulled out the ring.
He’d replayed the television coverage of the night before so many times and wanted to hit himself upside the head for being so stupid.
Maggie had looked like a deer caught in the headlights. The crowd chanting, lights flashing in her face. She’d been terrified. He’d taken what should have been a very private moment and made it into a media circus, a spectacle to rival the Country Music Awards ceremony. So much so, that now she was being hounded by the media and there’d been talk on the radio of a reality television show, Jake Loves Maggie. Sheesh! What had he done?
“When she wakes up, tell her I love her, okay?”
“Sure. You take care, Mac. You’re the best, even if you did make a hash of asking Maggie to marry you.”
“Thanks, and as always, I appreciate your honesty,” he said with a smile.
“I’m scared, sis. I’m calling 911,” Pixie said as she punched in the numbers.
“I’ll be fine,” Maggie insisted. “I just need a few days.”
“It’s been four days already and you’re not getting better. Hello? I need an ambulance to Riverbend Ranch. My sister has been vomiting non–stop for four days and she’s pregnant.”
Maggie groaned and tried to roll over, but she had no strength. Whoever named it morning sickness was wrong, she felt sick all day. She closed her eyes, knowing it was pointless to argue with Pixie.
Chapter Twenty–Two
Mac heard the siren coming along the highway, then shut it out; he was in the middle of composing another song. The tenth since Maggie had stopped talking to him. They were mournful tales of love gone wrong, but it seemed they were all he could manage to write in his present frame of mind.
The siren slowed as it neared his ranch. His cell rang. It was his security chief. “Sir, there’s an ambulance wanting to get into Ms. Hansen’s ranch. It might be a ruse by one of the television networks to get to her.”
“I don’t care, let them in!” Mac yelled into the phone as he leapt off the porch and sprinted towards Maggie’s. He’d called Pixie every day and every day she’d said Maggie didn’t feel well enough to talk to him. He’d interpreted that as Maggie’s way of keeping him at arm’s length, but now he feared it was something much worse.
The ambulance shot past him as he neared their dividing fence. He leapt it and sprinted along the driveway. The paramedics were already taking a gurney inside by the time he made it to Maggie’s front steps.
“What’s going on?” he demanded as he rushed inside, but the paramedics ignored him and headed upstairs. Since there was no sign of Pixie or Gramps, for him to query, Mac followed them up and into Maggie’s room.
Pixie stood beside the bed in tears, Gramps holding her trembling shoulders from behind. He glanced at the bed and his knees nearly gave out under him. Maggie lay there, looking paler than any living thing he’d ever seen.
One paramedic was listening to her chest while another was preparing an I–V.
“What’s happened to her?” he demanded, but Pixie hadn’t even noticed his presence. Gramps merely shook his head. Fat lot of good that was!
“What’s wrong, Pixie!” he shouted and moved around the bed to shake her to awareness.
Pixie turned her tear–streaked face to his and whispered, “She wouldn’t let me call anyone.”
Mac was aware of one of the paramedics calling Maggie’s name, trying to revive her. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded again, but the paramedics ignored him as they worked on Maggie. The I–V was in place and, on the count of three, they lifted her onto the gurney, strapped her in and were headed downstairs before Mac could react.
Pixie had slipped out of the room after them, leaving Mac and Gramps looking bewildered at each other. “Are you okay?” he asked the old man.
Gramps nodded and indicated they should follow the others downstairs.
Mac forced himself to slow his pace so Gramps wouldn’t feel left behind but, by the time he got to the front door, the paramedics had already loaded Maggie into the ambulance.
“I’m coming with her,” he said, stepping onto the step into the back of the vehicle, but the paramedic held him back. “Only family can go with her, sir,” he said.
Before Mac could protest, Pixie slipped under his arm and climbed in beside her sister. The paramedic closed the door behind her and checked it was locked into place. “You can follow us to the hospital in Silver Springs,” he said to Mac, as he opened the driver’s door and climbed in.
Mac turned to Gramps, “You coming?” he asked, not caring really what the other man said, he just wanted to be with Maggie.
“Sure, we can take my truck.”
Mac glanced over at the ancient vehicle. None of the vehicles would get them to Silver Springs as fast as his SUV. “We’ll take my SUV,” he said. “Can you meet me at the bottom of the driveway in your truck and then you can transfer to mine there.”
“Sure,” the old man said, walking unsteadily towards his truck.
Mac wasn’t sure the old man was in any fit condition to drive anywhere, but since it was only a mile to the bottom of the driveway where his and Maggie’s ranch gates were, he figured Gramps could make it.
Mac sprint
ed down the driveway and leapt over his fence. A minute later he was climbing into his powerful SUV and spinning the tires towards his front gate. He was half–mad with Pixie for not telling him Maggie was sick all those days ago, more mad with himself for not insisting on seeing Maggie. But his mistake the other night had made him more circumspect about forcing his presence on Maggie.
Gramps was waiting by the gate as he pulled up. Television reporters rushed to his vehicle and tried to press microphones into his face as Gramps climbed in.
“What’s going on, Jake? Who was taken to hospital? When are you and Maggie Hansen getting marrie—?”
The last was cut off by Gramps slamming the door. Mac hit the gas, his tires sending up clouds of dust as he turned onto the highway and headed towards Silver Springs.
In his rear view mirror, he could see the television crews scrambling to pack up and follow.
“Take a left around this next bend, son. We’ll lose ’em,” Gramps said.
“What about the hospital?”
“I know a short cut. Provided this new–fangled machine can handle some mountain tracks, we should reach the hospital before Maggie does.”
Mac took the turn but was dismayed to see the bigger vehicles following in the distance.
“They saw me turn!” Mac said. “So much for losing them.”
“Keep goin’, son,” Gramps said. “You’ll see.”
Soon the blacktop ran out and the road turned to dirt. A few miles on, it got rutted.
“If you don’t want to bust an axle, I suggest you slow down a bit,” Gramps advised.
“But they’re still following!” Mac said, exasperated. He wished he’d stuck to the highway; he could’ve easily outrun the big vans there.
Gramps just crossed his arms and stared ahead.
The road snaked higher into the mountains. “You’re not serious,” Mac said, as he noted they were heading towards a notorious pass that lead over into Peaks County. Mac had never driven it, but he’d heard it got impassable in the summer sometimes. In the winter, it was completely closed off.
Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women) Page 16