by Verna Clay
Monica held her breath and then began inhaling in little pants. She lifted her eyes to Dirk's face, so close to her own and said, "He's afraid."
Dirk's mouth lifted upward in a little smile that showed his dimple-crease. "Yes. But where is his fear coming from?"
Monica bit her bottom lip and concentrated all of her attention on the baby while Dirk's hands over her own made her feel so warm and safe. Suddenly, understanding flashed like a light bulb and she lifted incredulous eyes from Dirk's warm brown ones to the mare, and whispered, "Her fear is coming from her mother."
When she returned her gaze to Dirk's, her surroundings seemed to fade into the distance and her only reality was his eyes, his hands, and the foal. Slowly, he lowered his lips until they touched hers, and he said against them, "Yes. You've touched his spirit." After that, he gave her the softest, sweetest kiss, and she never wanted it to end. But it did. He pulled away and shifted his gaze over the top of the stall. "Sage, I think we're on to something."
Monica tried to lift her hands, but Dirk held them in place. He said next to her ear, "I'm going to raise my hands, but don't remove yours abruptly. Continue petting Lion Heart for another minute."
Monica nodded her understanding and did as instructed. When she stood and moved toward the gate, her legs felt weak from what had just happened and she couldn't bring herself to look at Sage. How much had he seen?
Dirk remained another ten minutes in the stall stroking the foal and mare and speaking soft words before he exited. Standing in the aisle, he said to Sage, "Here's what I believe is happening. The foal is picking up on the mother's fear. I think you're right about the mare being mishandled. I don't know what that mishandling was, but I suspect if we can eradicate the mother's fear, the foal will thrive. There's a strong bond between this baby and mother, one of the strongest I've ever felt."
Sage said, "Okay. What do you want me to do?"
Dirk pushed his Stetson back and started to say something, but a snort from the mare distracted him. He glanced at her, seemed to ponder something, and then unlatched the gate and walked back inside the stall. Remaining by the gate, he reached and adjusted his Stetson, then pushed it back again. The horse snorted again. He repeated the action and the mare's nostrils flared.
Monica heard Sage say under his breath, "Well, all be damn."
Dirk removed his hat and tossed it outside the stall. The mare appeared to visibly relax. Monica's eyes widened. Dirk approached Ginger, patted her, and said, "So, now we know what's troubling you." The mare nuzzled him. After a couple of minutes of cuddling, he said goodbye again and stepped outside the stall.
Sage grinned. "Damn, Dirk, you're good. Whoever had her before must have always pushed his hat back before he mistreated her. I'll make sure none of my hands wear their hats around her until we can teach her not to be afraid." He slapped Dirk on the shoulder and repeated. "You're good. Send me a big bill."
Chapter 17: No Popcorn Tonight
During the drive home Dirk warred with his emotions and Monica remained quiet. Mostly she kept her gaze on the rolling countryside and averted her eyes from his.
When he'd invited her into the stall, it was as if an unseen force had guided him, and when he'd placed his hands over hers, he'd felt her spirit. When she'd recognized the colt's issues were coming from his mother, his gift of discernment had told him she struggled with the same heartbreak. That's when he'd kissed her. Even now, he wanted to pull the truck over and kiss her hurt away.
Mentally leashing himself, he forced visions of the two of them locked in an intimate embrace out of his mind. She was a spoiled woman. She was a gold digger. But was she really? She had never done anything to reinforce that idea. In fact, when he'd tried to pay her extra money to cover the expense of the clothing he'd wanted her to charge to his account, she'd refused, and even gotten angry.
He pulled to his gate and punched the automatic opener lying on his dash. A few seconds later the gate swung open and Monica turned away from the window to look forward. When she said, "I'm going to have to beg off the movie tonight. I have a headache," Dirk had no intention of trying to change her mind. He needed time away from her. She pulled on his heartstrings.
"Okay," he replied.
As soon as they entered the house, she bid him a quiet goodbye and rushed to her room.
Dirk entered the living room, picked up the remote, scanned some channels, and then said into the empty room, "Fuck!"
After that, he stalked to Monica's door, knocked, and waited. When she said, "I'm not feeling well. I can't answer the door," he opened it, saw her standing a few feet from the entrance swiping at tears, and took three steps until his body touched hers. Reaching one arm around her waist and the other behind her head, he pulled her gently into an embrace at the same time his head lowered. She whimpered when his mouth molded itself to hers. For an instant, neither of them moved, and then she whimpered again. Dirk was lost. The only person who had ever touched him the way she did was his wife. In that moment, nothing existed except Monica's smell, Monica's taste, and Monica's softness. Tenderly, he pressed little kisses to her lips, touching her sorrow and broken spirit with his own essence—two spirits, two hearts, yet only one. She reached her arms around his neck and held him tightly, as if he were her lifeline.
Even though the bed was only a few steps away, he lifted her into his arms and gently lowered her onto the soft mattress. When he felt fresh tears leak from her eyes, he was consumed by compassion and wanted only to heal this beautiful, wounded woman. And when his compassion became passion, she did not flinch away; she only clutched him tighter, as if trying to climb into his skin.
At the same time the sun reached its pinnacle, Dirk sank his body deeply into Monica's and they moved with the natural rhythm of lovers. Ever mindful of her pregnancy, he was gentle in his passion.
With a whisper, Monica said, "Oh, yes," and shuddered beneath him.
Dirk said against her ear, feather soft, "Baby, I only want to please you."
When she whispered, over and over, "You have, you have, you have…" He was lost in his own ecstasy.
Chapter 18: Coming to Grips
Monica shifted in Dirk's arms and in a state of half awareness, smiled and burrowed closer. When he chuckled against her ear, she came fully awake. He sensed the change in her and said, "I guess you could say we're a little more than employer and employee."
She stiffened and started to respond, but her voice cracked. She tried again. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"How so?"
"We're so different from each other."
"I always heard that opposites attract."
"Yes, but for how long?"
He pulled her tightly against him. "Maybe for a long time."
Monica inhaled sharply and lifted above him. "You're just saying that because…because…"
His expression questioned her words. "Because?"
"Because of the passion of the moment," she finished in a rush.
She had expected him to be displeased with her response, but he smiled crookedly and said, "We'll see." Pulling her head back to his chest, he whispered, "Relax, Monica."
The rumble of his voice through his chest wall released the rest of her tension and she surprised herself by actually melting against him. "Okay."
He laughed softly and the same rumble lulled her back to sleep. When she woke again, she was alone in her bed. It took a second for her to orient herself and then she moaned. Her life had just become infinitely more complicated.
Coming to grips with a passion she had never experienced kept her immobilized. It was as if she had soared into a realm beyond her body, the place where spirit and soul resided. Tears welled when she realized Dirk was not the backwards cowboy she had made him out to be to keep her heart secure. He was a man of depth, character, and with a spirit of compassion so deep she released a fresh wave of tears. He was a woman's dream man.
And she was a superficial slut.
She placed h
er hand over her belly and said through tears, "Baby, if I lose my heart to him, I'll never get it back."
That evening, Dirk took Tessa and Shauna to the movies with the Tanners and did not press Monica when she still declined to go.
After they left, Monica roamed the empty house, tried to read, and then watched a little television, but nothing kept her attention. Frustrated, she gave up and went to bed. Surprisingly, she fell into a deep sleep, but came instantly awake when there was a soft knock on her door. Her heart leapt with joy. Without donning her silk wrap, she rushed to the door and peeked around it. Dirk stood on the other side gazing intently at her. With a shy smile, she didn't think, she didn't analyze; she only opened her door wide and stepped into his arms. Walking her backwards until he could close the door with his foot, he then walked her a little further until the back of her knees hit the bed. In a repeat of what had happened that afternoon, they touched, kissed, whispered, and lowered their defenses for self-preservation.
*
A week after the horse whispering incident and subsequent change in her relationship with Dirk, Monica nervously watched the ultrasound technician, a gray-haired, grandmotherly type, move the instrument over her belly. The technician pointed out Monica's tiny baby on the screen, and the reality that she carried life inside her womb caused a lump to lodge in her throat. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check.
The kindly technician who had introduced herself as Rose, said, "Honey, I know what you're feelin'. I've birthed six boys and felt the same way with every one of 'em." She patted Monica's shoulder. "Look here." She touched the screen. "Your baby's a girl."
A little sob escaped and Monica hiccupped, "I've been thinking about girl's names. Do you like the name Madison? Or maybe Isabella?"
Rose grinned. "Well, you got to think about nicknames. Madison will be called Maddie and Isabella will become Bella."
Monica swiped her eyes with the tissue she was handed. "That's a difficult decision. I like them both."
"Well, sweetie, you have a few months to make up your mind." She laughed. "And Doc can add another name to his substantial list of births."
"Oh, I won't be here that long. In fact, I'll probably be gone in a few weeks. I've been applying for jobs in my hometown of New York and just got a favorable response to one of my résumés. They want me to send some more info and then they'll schedule an interview over Skype."
Rose clucked, "Ain't the internet somethin'. Folks can take care of just about anything with it. Well, I wish you the best of luck." Her attention was drawn back to the screen. "Hey, look, your little girl is moving."
With amazement and wonder, Monica watched her baby move tiny legs and arms. She said, "I felt a little flutter. Do you think that's the baby?"
"I sure do. The feeling starts out like that, but by the time the baby's born you've got full out jabs and kicks." At Monica's look of alarm, she hastened to add, "It's nothing that hurts. More than anything, it's funny watchin' your stomach move around. My husband always got the biggest kick out of it."
Monica glanced away and hoped the friendly technician wouldn't ask anything about the baby's father.
The sensitive woman merely said, "Would you like a DVD of the baby?"
Surprised, Monica said, "Oh, yes! I didn't realize I could get one."
"Like I was sayin', the marvels of modern man."
That night, Monica played the DVD over and over in the small player she'd brought from New York. And while she watched the video, she imagined holding her tiny baby.
*
Dirk allowed Tessa to spend a lot of time with her best friend's family so he could spend time alone with Monica and get to know her. Slowly and hesitantly at first, she began opening up about her childhood. Gut wrenching heartache seized his emotions as he began to understand this beautiful woman who had once been overweight and harassed by a mother who always pointed out her imperfections. One night, after hours of intense love making, she finally confided her deepest secret while Dirk caressed her silky hair and held her tightly against him, offering his strength.
"My mother committed suicide when I was thirteen," she sobbed, "and I just knew I was the reason. No matter how hard I tried, I could never make her happy."
He feathered a kiss across her forehead and said softly, "Monica, haven't you figured out that your mother was responsible for her own actions and that it wasn't up to you to make her happy?"
"Y-yes. But it still hurts so much. Even my mother's sister didn't want me. She received custody and kept me in boarding school, even during holidays."
"Darlin', what happened is always going to hurt, but you have your whole life ahead of you with your daughter, and you can make it beautiful."
"I-I know. I keep telling myself that."
"Good. And now that you've confided in me, you've released negative emotions and you're going to feel so much better."
Monica wrapped her arms around his waist and sniffled, "Thank you."
As the end of the third month approached, Dirk watched Monica's persona change. No longer did she wear designer clothes. She appeared content in casual clothing, usually jeans and a T-shirt and tennis shoes. Her stomach was now clearly protruding and he suspected that was the reason for the big T shirts. Every day he looked forward to her quick wit and sometimes sarcastic responses that were part and parcel of her personality. He'd come to adore her over the past three months and was considering his next move. Did he love her enough to become father to a child that wasn't his? And although unlikely, what if the lowlife ex-boyfriend found out and wanted time with his child? There were so many ramifications to what he was considering—asking her to marry him.
As far as Tessa was concerned, Dirk knew she would welcome Monica as her stepmother. The affection between them grew daily. They giggled and shopped and watched movies together and made him laugh all the time. Life had taken a turn. No longer was he the lonely man he had been since Bonnie's death, and his sad little girl was happy again. The conviction that he had been given a second chance to experience a joyful family life with a woman he loved, finally solidified one morning as he drove the back roads of his land. Yes. He was going to ask Monica to marry him.
Chapter 19: No!
Monica read her email from a well respected interior design company offering her a job. It was the chance of a lifetime, but she didn't feel much enthusiasm. Of course she knew the reason—Dirk and Tessa. She closed the email without responding and placed her head in her hands. After a time, she glanced around the small bedroom that had become her home over the past three months. The mortar oozing from between the logs brought tears to her eyes. She loved that mortar. She loved the dead animals on the walls. She loved the old blue and green quilt on her bed. She even loved the Formica countertops in the kitchen. She loved Dirk. She loved Tessa. She loved Cowpaddyville, Colorado.
Sighing, she glanced at her watch. Tessa would be home from school soon and they were going to try a new mac and cheese recipe discovered in the Central Baptist Church's Divine Collection.
She had just closed her laptop when sudden cramps and then warmth made her glance down. In horror, she watched blood seep through her jeans. For a second, she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and then she screamed, "No!" and rushed from her room yelling for Dirk.
*
Doc Jones walked into the waiting room of Paxtonville's small, sixty-five bed hospital on the outskirts of town. Dirk was the only person in the room at nine P.M. While he'd waited, Monica's panic had replayed itself over and over in his mind. When she'd run from her room yelling his name, at first he hadn't known what was wrong, but then he'd seen the blood. In a heartbeat he'd grabbed his cell phone, called Doc Jones for instructions, and then rushed her to the hospital.
During the ride, Monica's white complexion had scared the shit out of him and her streaming tears had broken his heart. Over and over she'd mumbled, "Don't leave me, baby girl. Don't leave me, baby girl."
Doc cleared his
throat and said sadly, "I'm sorry, Dirk. We did everything we could to save the baby, but sometimes these things happen. It's no one's fault, but I think you're going to have to reinforce that with Monica. She's blaming herself."
Dirk nodded. "When can I see her?"
"Now, if you're ready. She's kind of groggy, but in need of all the support she can get."
Wearily, Dirk stood and nodded for Doc Jones to lead the way. At a room near the rear of the facility, Doc paused and indicated that Dirk should enter. "I've got an emergency appendectomy waiting. So I'll talk to you later."
"Okay. Thanks for everything."
Doc patted Dirk's shoulder and then hastened away.
Inhaling and blowing a breath, Dirk slowly pushed the door open. In the dimness of a wall mounted night light he saw Monica and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. She looked so forlorn, tired, and lost, that he wanted to lift her into his arms and promise that everything would be all right.
At the soft sound of his approach, she shifted her gaze from staring at the ceiling, met his eyes, and then looked back at the ceiling. He pulled a chair from across the room and sat beside her. She continued staring at the ceiling.
Lifting his hand to her forehead, he gently stroked and she closed her eyes. For a long time he said nothing. When he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, she turned her face away. He said close to her ear, "Honey, I'm so sorry. Doc said sometimes these things happen." She remained silent with her head turned away. Gently, he whispered, "Monica, darlin', please let me comfort you."
A tear trickled across her nose and she said softly, "I wanted a baby so bad I got pregnant on purpose. It wasn't an accident like I led everyone to believe. I stopped taking the pill." She turned her face into Dirk's shoulder. "And now I feel so empty." Then she wept.