How To Catch A Cowboy: A Small Town Montana Romance

by Joanna Bell

  The turmoil inside me was as real as it was inside her, but no one forced me to act the way I did – and I knew that Blaze herself would never have asked me to ignore my own feelings in order to coddle hers. It just came over me, like the fog that blanketed the grounds of the castle – she's mine, and I have to protect her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Blaze

  It was only much later – months later, actually – that I thought about how difficult that day and that night would have been for me without Jack's presence. The word, as soon as Jack said it, hung in the air between us, unable to be unspoken. 'Pregnant.' Even as my mind rationalized furiously – no, no, no, no way, not possible, one time isn't enough etc. – some other, deeper part calmly accepted the truth. We had sex without a condom. Of course I could be pregnant. That's how it works. Time to freak out.

  But Jack was there, and that meant that the dam in my mind, the one desperately holding back an entire ocean of worries, held. It held because of him and for no other reason. I knew damn well I would have lost it completely without Jack to suggest the walk in the grounds, to hand me my jacket, kiss my forehead reassuringly, take my arm and lead me down that red-carpeted staircase I still couldn't quite help feeling like a princess on.

  A number of other guests were doing the same thing we were. They giggled and oohed and aahed and snapped selfies with the illuminated stone castle in the background. Jack and I wove our way through them, holding tightly onto each other's hands, and kept going until we were away from the crowds.

  "They really went all out didn't they?" I asked as we walked down a wide avenue, lined on both sides with oak trees as large and stout as giants. Each one had been hung with tiny white lights, so many that the fog glowed supernaturally.

  We didn't say much, because we didn't need to. But as we walked, I got to thinking – to wondering. What if I was pregnant? I rolled the idea around in my mind, looking at it from one angle, and then another, and another. Back in the hotel room, when Jack had first uttered the word out loud, my instinct had been to freak out. Why?

  I knew why. Because I wasn't supposed to have a baby. Not before I was well settled into a long-term career, making good money. Not until I had a nest egg and preferably a house – because a condo is no place to raise a child. Not until I was married. And not newly married either, but settled into a marriage. Not until I had secured a spot for any children I may have at an excellent preschool.

  Jack walked beside me, looking at the lights but also turning to me every now and again, checking on me. I liked the way he did that – it wasn't new, I remembered him doing it even that first night I stayed at Sweetgrass Ranch, when he brushed the leaves and debris out of my hair.

  There's nothing to get you thinking about a thing so much as that thing appearing suddenly in front of your face. So what if I was pregnant? Was it a disaster? Was it the end of my life as I knew it? And if it was, why didn't I feel any of those things, when I tried to concentrate on how I actually felt, rather than how I thought I should feel?

  "What are you thinking about?" Jack asked as we came to the end of the row of trees and walked out into a circular garden area with a single large tree in the center and a stone pathway running around it.

  I stopped and looked up at him. "Do you really want to know? Because if you do, I'll tell you."

  He nodded.

  "I was just thinking," I told him, "well – you know what I was thinking about."

  "Yeah, I do. I'm thinking about the same thing."

  It was then that I noticed that the same strange calm that had come over me seemed to have come over Jack, as well. I didn't comment on it, but I noticed the way he stood there, meeting my gaze evenly like we were talking about something far less dramatic.

  "Well," I continued, "I was thinking about all the things I've been told, the way I was raised, the way life is supposed to go for women like me. First you do this, and then you do this, and then you do this, and in this specific order."

  "And?" Jack whispered, pulling me closer.

  "And what happens if you miss one of those steps? Or you do them in the wrong order? It's the end of the world, right? You've failed. But – Jack – have you? Have I? If I'm pregnant, I mean? Because, and I know even as I say this that maybe it's easy to say because we don't know for sure yet, and we're out here in this magical garden on this magical night and I'm with you, but –"

  "But?"

  "But I don't even feel scared right now. I think maybe I felt so scared and worried back in the room because that's how I was supposed to react, that's how everything I've ever been told led me to believe was the right reaction. But it's gone. It's gone now. I – um, Jack. I –"

  It was difficult to say the words. It's always difficult to say – or to accept – that maybe something you always thought was one way is, in fact, another way.

  "Blaze," Jack said, bending down and kissing my mouth. "Say it. Finish your sentence. I want to hear it."

  "I don't feel scared!" I replied, forcing the words out quickly so I didn't have a chance to snatch them back. "I actually – I can't believe I'm even saying this, maybe I'm crazy – I actually kind of – Jack, part of me wants it to be true."

  Jack's eyes searched mine for a few moments, and then he smiled. "Me too, Blaze."

  "Really?" I asked. "You're not worried?"

  "No. It's just like you said – maybe I should be, but I'm not. Right now, I'm actually more worried about getting my hopes up. That you are pregnant, I mean."

  "You want me to be?" I asked, biting my lower lip as it began to wobble a little. "You want me to be –" I couldn't finish the sentence – my eyes blurred and a lump rose in my throat.

  "Yes," Jack replied, pulling my head in against his chest. "Yes, Blaze. I can't believe I'm even saying this – I thought this was the kind of thing a man needed time to come around to – but right now, in my heart? In my mind? I don't think there's anything I want more than for you to have my baby in your belly."

  "Oh my God," I breathed, as a fluttery shot of pure happiness danced its way through my heart. "Jack – when do the pharmacies open here?"

  He took his phone out of his pocket. "I don't know. Dublin is a big city, maybe it has some 24-hour places?"

  I waited, almost vibrating with impatience, until Jack to shook his head and said it didn't look like there were any.

  "Maybe we could ask the concierge?" I suggested. "They might know of somewhere."

  We turned and practically ran back to the hotel. I wanted to smile and giggle, but it still didn't feel right, because I didn't know. And I couldn't let myself experience any emotion, not fully, until I knew for sure.

  Back in the ballroom-like lobby of the castle, though, the concierge confirmed that Dublin didn't have 24-hour pharmacies. Damn. It was while we standing there alone that one of the older women who manned the front desk and who had overheard the conversation, approached.

  "Is everything alright?" She asked. "If there's a medical situation, I can call a doctor." She looked at me in particular, probably picking up on something in Jack's protective body language. "Are you alright, dear?"

  "I think so. And it's not an emergency, we just, uh, we need a pregnancy test."

  I will never know what made me blurt that out to a perfect stranger, but I did, and then the three of us stood there for a few seconds just looking at each other until the front desk woman grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Oh, how wonderful!" She exclaimed, smiling at me and then at Jack.

  "Well," I started, because by that point everything was so surreal there didn't seem to be any good reason not to say exactly what popped randomly into my mind. "He lives in Montana and I live in D.C., and we're not married, so –"

  "Oh it's never perfect," the woman said, leaning in close to me as if she was sharing a great secret – and hey, maybe she was. "It's never the exact right time to do any of these big things in life, dear – and the sooner you accept that the better. But I've seen you two the past couple of
days and I can see it. And I can always see it."

  "See what?" Jack asked, sounding confused.

  "It," she told him. "It. That energy some couples have, the way they look at each other. You two have it, I saw that right away. And I'm not saying life is a fairytale, because it isn't, not for any of us. But what you've got, the two of you – that's special, even if you are far too young to understand. Anyway, of course none of this is my business but a baby is a blessing, and two young people in love and having a baby is the most natural thing in the world."

  Neither me nor Jack acknowledged the 'L' word that had just been casually thrown into the already volatile mix of our emotions. The older woman said she would find us a pharmacy that opened early and call the room to give us the address and we thanked her. As we walked away I could feel her there, behind us, looking at me. Was she right? Was a baby a blessing? It sounded like a platitude, but the whole idea that a baby was a big disaster if you had one in anything other than the ideal circumstances was starting to feel like it's own version of a platitude.

  When we were back in the room I threw myself onto the bed and reached for Jack. "I don't think I can sleep," I told him. "I don't think I can sleep until we know."

  And then I surprised myself by falling asleep almost immediately and staying asleep until the thin light of dawn was peeking in through the curtains and I found a note from Jack beside the bed saying he had taken a taxi into town to go to a pharmacy and that he would be back soon. It took me a few minutes to properly figure out how much of the previous 24 hours had been real, and how much of it a dream. I threw the covers off myself and lifted my shirt, staring down at my belly.

  Flat, as always. Well, not flat – my belly hasn't been perfectly flat since I was 10 – but no different than ever. There couldn't be a baby in there, could there? A thrill surged through my body, a tingle of anticipation and hope, and no matter what I told myself about being silly, I couldn't stop it.

  That's how Jack found me – lying on the bed with my shirt pulled up and a look of complete consternation on my face.

  "Thank God," I said, when he walked through the door. "I'm going to go crazy if I don't find out soon. I'm literally going to lose my mind."

  "Well," he replied, handing me a small paper bag. "Here you go. I bought three, just in case."

  "Three?"

  He sat down on the bed and put his hand on my belly, then immediately pulled it away again. I frowned.

  "I can't," he said quietly, when he saw my expression. "I can't do things like that until we know. I don't want to be disappointed. I think you are, though. Don't you? I mean, the sickness? The –"

  "Stop!" I said, grabbing onto one of his arms and resting my forehead against his bicep. "Jack, don't. Let me – damnit, just let me take these. Right now. I'm doing it now. OK?"

  "OK."

  The walk from the bed to the bathroom felt like it took ten years. The seconds stretched out and distorted until all I could hear was my own breathing, my own quick heartbeat and all I could feel was the question looming all around me like fog. Sometime later – I had no idea if it was two minutes or two hours – I emerged.

  "They're on the sink. Beside the sink, I mean." I said to Jack. "I can't look at them. I – I think we have to wait anyway. For, uh, I don't know. Half an hour?"

  Jack got up wordlessly and strode into the bathroom, returning with the packaging of one of the tests in his hand. "Three minutes," he said. "It says three minutes, Blaze. Has it been three minutes?"

  "I don't know! I don't – Jack! I can't do it. I can't. Can you do it? Please?"

  Jack looked back down at the package. "A plus sign for pregnant and a minus sign for not-pregnant. OK. That seems simple enough. Sure, I can do it. You just – uh, you wait here."

  In the end, I couldn't even watch him go into the bathroom. I rolled over and buried my face in a pillow, my whole body absolutely singing with nerves. In that moment, it was difficult to know what to say to myself to try to keep calm. In the end I went with a saying my mother likes – que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be. I was either pregnant, or I wasn't, and nothing I could say, no spell I could cast in my mind, was going to change that fact.

  When I felt Jack's hand on my back a few minutes later, I somehow couldn't turn over.

  "I can't," I said, my voice muffled in the pillow. "I can't."

  "Why not?" Jack asked gently, rubbing my back. I tried to discern the news in his voice, but I couldn't.

  "No, I –"

  "Blaze. Blaze – turn over, baby. Look at me."

  So I did it. I rolled over and looked up at Jack, as alternating timelines of my life flashed before my eyes. Me, 90 years old and sitting in a rocking chair, remembering the man from Montana, and how he'd made my heart – not to mention other parts of me – quicken at the mere sound of his voice. Perhaps my grandchildren would be at my feet. Tell us grandma! Tell us about the man from Montana, before you met grandpa! I couldn't picture their faces, those maybe-grandchildren.

  And then another scenario – me, 90 years old and sitting in a rocking chair not remembering the man from Montana but looking at him as he sat beside me in another rocking chair and our grandchildren, who all had the same broad cheekbones and bright blue eyes as he did, played at our feet.

  I blinked at Jack, my heart in my throat, and everything – or who knew, maybe nothing? – on the line.

  And then he said seven words. Seven words and my life veered completely off one track and onto another, with a great screeching of brakes and grinding of gears.

  "You're going to have my baby, Blaze."

  I threw myself at him. I didn't think, I didn't comment, I just reached for him and clung, hard. And then I was weeping and he was pulling back, eying me. "Blaze? What's wrong? Are you –"

  "Nothing's wrong," I wept, giggling through my tears. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. Nothing's wrong, Jack."

  I was shaking in Jack's arms, as well as weeping, and I honestly didn't know why. Was I scared? No. I didn't feel scared. I didn't even really feel nervous at that point – it was too early to have coherent emotional response.

  "Why am I shaking?" I asked.

  "You're shocked," Jack replied, tightening his grip on me.

  "Aren't you?"

  "Of course I am, Blaze."

  "What are we going to do?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know."

  I lifted my t-shirt up again and we both looked at my belly, absurdly seeking some kind of sign that there was something – a person? A would-be person? – in there. Jack reached down and flattened his palm against me. His hand was warm, and I liked the way it felt to be touched like that.

  "You know what, Blaze?"

  "What?"

  "We still need to go to the bank today. I don't know if I'm going to be able to speak in full sentences, so I think you should come with me, in case I just start jumping up and down like a crazy person and running around in circles."

  "You think that's likely?" I asked, laughing with the relief of having something light to talk about.

  "I don't know. I want to say no, but all sorts of unlikely things have been happening to me lately."

  Jack and I spent that day together. We found out I was pregnant together, then we went to the bank together, had it confirmed that he was a multi-millionaire together, and then we walked around downtown Dublin together. But the news – the news about the baby and the final confirmation about the money, that it hadn't just been some crazy mix-up or mistake – had us both dazed, barely able to see two steps ahead of ourselves as we wandered aimlessly.

  "I don't even feel like I've seen anything this afternoon," I said as we stood on a bridge in the late afternoon sunshine. "And I feel guilty about that."

  "You feel guilty?" Jack asked, and his voice still had the dreamlike quality I'd been hearing in it all day. "Why?"

  I looked out over the water. "Because I guess someday, this child is going to ask us where we were when we fou
nd out, how we met, all of that. And I don't want to say we were in Ireland but I don't remember anything except your father and I being too shocked to experience anything going on around us. I want to be able to say the sky was a kind of dark gray-blue, although there was a strip of gold near the horizon, and the air smelled like the sea, and there were Christmas lights everywhere. I want to be able to say your father was so out of it he kept tripping on the cobblestones because he wasn't looking where he was going."

  "Your father," Jack repeated, before turning to me with glimmering eyes. "Blaze. I'm going to be someone's father."

  I knew, without Jack having to say it, that he was thinking about his own father and grandfather. I reached up and touched his face, running my thumb over his cheek. "You are," I whispered. "You are."

  "So you're not – or, you don't think you're going to –"

  "No," I shook my head with finality, knowing again what he was talking about without us having to clarify it. "No, Jack. I know I could, but no. I'm having this baby. I don't know how – I mean, I guess I know how, technically, I just don't know how, in the larger sense, you know? And I don't mean to make any decisions for you, either. If you decide you're not ready to –"

  "Blaze. Stop." He turned me so I was facing him. "Stop that. I'm going to be a father. And I don't know the details any more than you do, but we will work them out. OK? I am with you. I am here with you, right now, and I am not going anywhere."

  "I know," I said quietly, because I did know. "I just felt like I had to say something like that. I'm not even sure why."