Claiming What Is Mine

by Abby Brooks

  I laugh. “Worried he’d burn the place to the ground?”

  Chet leans against the railing of the steps and stares up at me with a serious look. “That’s what I’d tell him, but between you and me, I don’t worry about the ranch with him around. Didn’t feel right leaving him alone any longer. Plus, Christy’s far enough on in her pregnancy I sleep better knowing her doctor is nearby.”

  “There you are. I wondered where you went,” a soft voice calls from the far side of the house. A moment later, Chet’s wife comes around the corner and waddles over to her husband’s side.

  “Doc, this here is Meredith Still—she’s an old friend of the family. Meredith, this is my wife, Christy.” Chet’s introduction is succinct, as is his way.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Christy. And, congratulations to you both.” I lean down, extending my hand over the railing to shake hers. “If you don’t mind my asking, when are you due?”

  Christy wraps her arms around her belly and smiles. “The doctor says I have five weeks left, but this little rascal hasn’t been still for more than an hour in I don’t know how long. So, I’m not convinced he’s gonna make it to term.”

  “Shit,” Gabe says to Chet as he appears out of nowhere and climbs the porch. “I’ve been trying my damnedest to avoid you all morning.”

  Chet clears his throat. “I’ve been looking for you. I tried to reach you on the radio, but you never responded.”

  Gabe stands behind me and pulls me into him, resting his chin on my head. “Morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well. Did you eat?”

  I nod (just not the eggs).

  “Like I said. I’ve been trying to avoid you.” Gabe squeezes my waist. “I’ve got more important things to worry about today.”

  Chet looks to me when he responds. “If I promise not to keep him long, would it be okay if we leave you ladies to talk for a few minutes while we look at something in the barn?”

  “Umm.” I turn to Gabe, giving him my best, don’t-leave-me, I’m-sure-she’s-lovely-but-I-don’t-know-her look.

  Gabe scoffs at his brother. “Twenty minutes and not a second longer,” he says to Chet.

  I squeeze his hand, trying again to let him know I’m uncomfortable being left alone, but he doesn’t notice.

  Chet kisses his wife on the cheek and tips his hat in my direction. “Nice to see you again,” he says. “Come on then, Gabe. Let’s get to it.”

  I hold his hand as he pulls away. Gabe gives me a wink, oblivious to my need for him to stay.

  Alrighty then, calm down. This wasn’t intentional. Note to self—subtlety with Gabe doesn’t work.

  Christy and I watch the men as they walk away. She turns back and smiles up at me, and I feel compelled to make conversation. “Uh…I really am happy for the both of you. Chet’s a good man.”

  “Thank you. He is—I know. So, you’re a friend of the family?”

  My cheeks burn. “Well, yes. Technically. I think that was Chet’s way of trying not to embarrass me. Gabe and I were…high school sweethearts.”

  Christy’s notices the too-big-for-me sweatpants and t-shirt and I can almost see the pieces coming together as her eyes go wide. “Oh. I see.”

  “Yeah... ” I smile sheepishly. “It's...he's...I mean. I guess some lessons are just hard to learn. Gabe's kind of my Kryptonite. It’s all still a little confusing. ” I nervously tap my fingers along the railing. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to babble on about my situation. It’s just—I’ve been bottling my feelings up for weeks because I don’t have anyone to talk to. And…anyway. I’ll shut up now.” I turn a pretend key with my fingers to lock my lips together.

  Christy carefully climbs the steps up the porch. “I can relate to having no one to talk to. When I moved out here from Pennsylvania, well, in the beginning I’d never felt more alone in my life.” She sits in the chair adjacent to the one with my coffee cup on the armrest. “You can talk to me. If you’d like.”

  I shake my head. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m sure the last thing anyone wants to hear about is some total stranger’s drama.”

  “Hon, if you’re going to be the woman to finally tame Gabe Wilde, you’re gonna need someone to talk to. Come and sit.”

  I pause, trying to decide if this is simply a polite offer, or someone whose traveled down a similar road and is genuinely offering an ear. “Really? Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  Christy pats the seat of my chair.

  I sit and place my hand on her knee. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Because things might be getting a little crazy in my head.”

  Don’t go overboard. Keep it high level, this woman is not your therapist.

  “See, the thing is, everything is great. We’re having an absolute blast,” I begin as I sit next to her and pick up my coffee mug.

  “That’s wonderful. Isn’t it?”

  “It is. Or, I mean, it should be, right? ” I sigh. “But...see... ” I shrug and look Christy in the eye. “I don't know how much of this you already know. Small towns and close families being what they are.”

  “Not much at all,” she says, sympathetically.

  “My God... ” I draw my feet up into the chair and hug my knees. “I loved Gabe so much when we were kids. Like, so much. I couldn't imagine life without him, you know? ” I turn to Christy who nods. “And we were amazing together—until we weren't. But the way it ended...I was devastated. I didn't know how to exist without him. I had to totally rebuild myself, but it always felt like I was missing something. Years after I'd moved on, I'd find myself thinking about him. Wondering where his life had taken him, or what our life would be like if we’d stuck through the rough time. Even when it was completely inappropriate to do so. And now? It's been what, eighteen years? He says he's grown and changed. And that's true. ” I nod vigorously. “He's definitely different than when we were kids. But then again, he's not that different. He's still Gabe, you know? And here I am. My life is in shambles. A failed marriage under my belt. I'm living with my parents for God’s sake. Which is a whole drama in and of itself. And then? In walks Gabe—back in my life as if nothing ever happened. Being with him again feels amazing, but we already messed this up once. Is it really possible for two people to get it right on the second try?”

  Christy nods thoughtfully as she soaks up everything I just overshared. When she’s ready to speak, she attempts to lean in but her belly gets in the way. She struggles briefly and then flops back in the chair with a sigh. “I swear, I am so ready to evict this little guy,” she says, rubbing the basketball in her lap as she closes her eyes. After a breath, she looks to me. “So, things with Gabe are great, at least right now?”

  I nod. “Yep. At least right now.”

  “And, you believe he is sincerely trying to show you he’s matured?”

  I nod again. “I do. I mean, he’s definitely trying to show me he’s different. But part of me isn’t convinced he’s actually different. Or that I am. You know?”

  “I think I do.” Christy smiles. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do for a living? I only ask because…well, are you planning to stay around Logan county and find work? Or will you end up having to move away again? Maybe, the issue is less about whether Gabe is right for you, and more about whether Gabe fits into your plans for the future.”

  I pause, contemplating her words, but we’re interrupted before I have the chance to respond.

  Gabe yells as he approaches. “Christy, would you be a dear and get your husband off my back? Twenty minutes my ass. Jesus, you’ve been home…what, not even a week and I’m ready for you to take him on another honeymoon.” Gabe’s face appears serious as he approaches the house, but when his eyes meet mine, his demeanor changes, softening to match his gaze.

  Christy grabs the armrests of her chair with both hands, pulling herself out of the seat. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Sounds like I need to chase my husband down, anyway.”

  Gabe takes her hand and helps her
down the steps before climbing up on the porch to sit beside me. “You two have a nice chat?”

  “Actually, yes. She seems like the kind of person you can’t help but enjoy being around.”

  “True. She’s the complete and polar opposite of her husband.” Gabe laughs. “Now, how long do I have with you today?”

  “You know me always busy, busy, busy,” I joke.

  Gabe takes me by the hand. “Well then, why don’t you come inside, so we can make the most of the time we have.” The twinkle in his eyes makes his intention clear and the heat between my legs says my busy afternoon of watching tv and missing Gabe can wait a little longer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Meredith

  Ugh. It’s the third time this week I’ve had my head buried in the toilet first thing in the morning. What? The? Hell?

  There’s the obvious reason a woman might be sick in the morning, but I’m one hundred percent positive that can’t be the cause. For one thing, my period is due to start...mmm...any time now. I mean, it’s not like it’s ever followed a schedule I could set my watch to, but it’s definitely time. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead. Like, really, any time now.

  And anyway, Gabe is the only man I’ve been with in…well, longer than I care to think about, and we always use protection. Aside from our first time—the night of Chet’s wedding. But come on? Pregnant on the first try? What are the odds?

  After several minutes of dry heaving, I push away from the bowl. Don’t start stressing. That’s a guaranteed trip to crazy town for what is sure to be nothing. It’s a stomach bug or something.

  I brush my teeth and crawl back into the safety of bed. I pull the covers up around my neck and hope, maybe, if I just fall back asleep I’ll feel better when I wake. Wrong. Instead, my mind spins through the timeline of these last weeks, trying to fit the pieces together. The wedding was…almost four weeks ago. My last period was…like a couple weeks before that? Holy shit.

  Holy.

  Shit.

  It can’t be. I mean, really. It can’t be that. I feel sick to my stomach again, but for a very different reason.

  Can it?

  Oh my God, that would be the absolute icing on the disaster cake that is my life. I clench the covers as my body curls into a tight little ball. The all-consuming fear of what-ifs has the hair on the back of my neck standing straight. Sure, I want children. Someday. And I recognize the timeline for that is shrinking by the day. But now? This is hardly the time. A baby deserves security and responsibility. Things like money and a home. Both of which, I am currently in need of myself.

  Unable to find a comfortable position, I flip onto my side. And then there’s Gabe. We’re just getting off the ground again, could our relationship survive a bomb like that? He is charming and handsome and fun to be around. But, a dad? Assuming his head doesn’t explode when I give him the news, how would that work? I feel like I would have to explicitly spell out obvious things, like, I don’t care if you did double check the ties between the car seat and the saddle, you can’t put a baby on horseback. Or, No, peanut butter doesn’t require teeth, but I’m positive a three-month-old isn’t ready for that kind of food.

  Thinking of him that way is adorable.

  But this isn’t the time for adorable.

  This is serious.

  I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna and I can’t decide if it’s from the nausea or the anxiety. I kick the covers away and flop onto my back. Seriously, how can my body be burning up while my hands are ice cold? It’s got to be a bug. My thoughts drift back to the conversation with Christy and her question about my career and living situation. I never planned to stay here, coming home was supposed to be temporary. Gabe’s life is tied to his ranch. Which means he’s tied to this area. How would a baby fit into that puzzle?

  The edges of the room get fuzzy as my life tailspins out of control. My eyes clamp shut and I try to think happier thoughts.

  Bunnies.

  Nope.

  That makes me think of Easter, then Easter eggs, then little Easter baskets.

  Christmas.

  Nope.

  That makes me think of Christmas trees, then Christmas presents under the tree, then excited little faces tearing at wrapping paper.

  Something safer.

  Cows. Cows are safe, right?

  Wrong again.

  Cows make me think of milk, which makes me think of calves, which brings me back to babies, which is the one thing I’m trying not to think about.

  Damnit.

  Okay, so I’ll pick up a pregnancy test and find out. No big deal. There’s nothing to worry about unless there’s something to worry about. But I can’t buy a test around here. At best, everyone is like, three degrees away from knowing everyone else. And this? This is exactly the kind of information that makes for good gossip. Heaven help me. Alright, I’ll drive to Sterling and pick a random pharmacy. I can wear big, dark, gaudy, sunglasses and a floopy hat. I’ll park down the street, so no one sees my car. Am I overthinking this?

  I drag myself out of bed, pull on a pair of comfy sweats, twist my hair up in a bun, and slip my feet into a pair of flip flops. Not my sexiest look, but feeling as miserable as I do, and with a task like this, sexy hardly seems pertinent.

  Besides, at least I’m not sporting the fuzzy slippers.

  I can’t recall a thing about the drive to the pharmacy. Between the rush of adrenaline that got me up and moving, mixed with nausea and nerves, the drive is a complete blur. Against my better judgement, I break from my plan and park in the pharmacy lot, but still choose to hide behind a pair of sunglasses I had tucked away in the glove box. I glimpse myself on the security monitor as I enter the store and I know, with absolute certainty, they know why I’m here, and they’re sitting in their little office at the back of the store, placing bets on whether or not I’m about to beeline to the family planning aisle.

  Who are they? You know, the people. The ones who watch women like me come into the store every day, frantically rushing for the pregnancy tests.

  Not today boys! Not this cookie.

  First, I stop and peruse the in-store flyer. Distraction number one. Next, I pick up a shopping basket and head for the makeup section where I look at a couple of items and pretend to carefully read the labels. Distraction number two. My mind races as I line up my next move. I walk to the far side of the store and grab an Arizona Iced Tea. How’s that for random? Just a normal person, doing a little last-minute impulse shopping.

  Nothing to see here.

  I spot an out of order sign on the restroom as I meander past the pathetic toy selection.

  Shit. So much for not waiting to know my destiny.

  Finally, I make my way to the pregnancy tests, but I continue to play it cool.

  Hmm. I’ve always been curious about these. Why don’t I pick one up and read the back? Totally random.

  The selection overwhelms me. Do I want pluses and minuses? Is the word ‘pregnant’ somehow more clear? Do the digital ones work better than the others? It’s all too much, so I put one of each in my basket and proceed to make the walk of shame to the checkout counter. The pimple faced teenager behind the counter takes one look at my three pregnancy tests and an iced tea and gives me a knowing look.

  Damnit.

  My parents' radar has been on high alert since I informed them Gabe and I are dating, but blowing past Mom and Dad on my way out this morning, and racing to my bedroom with a shopping bag crammed under my shirt on my way in, surely didn’t help the situation. Mom starts with a light knock at my door, asking if everything is alright. Apparently my masterful, Yeah Mom I’m just really tired answer doesn’t satisfy her curiosity because she’s back again five minutes later, asking if I’d care for a sandwich. My mother is a sweet woman and, ordinarily, her offer to make me something to eat would seem normal enough, but not now. I know she knows. That’s what this is about.

  Isn’t it?

  “No thanks, Mom. I grabbed something while I was
out.” I hate to lie to her, but food is the last thing on my mind. Just the thought of trying to keep it down makes me nauseous.

  Thank God, being the only girl in my family earned me a bedroom with a private bathroom, I think to myself as I sit, placing sticks between my legs while I pee. That, and how much I hope and pray this doesn’t end up being one of those moments that haunts me the rest of my days. When I’m finished I flush the toilet and wonder if life as I knew it is swirling down the drain.

  I cross my legs to sit on the bathroom floor, appreciating the cool tile as I stare up at the three tests balanced on the edge of the sink. According to the boxes, it’s a five-minute wait. But what is that saying about how a watched test never develops? Approximately half an eternity later I’m still on the floor, trying to decide how concerned I should be that all three came back indicating I’m pregnant. If it had been only one, maybe I could lull myself into disbelief. But three? Stupid men and their stupid penises.

  Much to my surprise, despite all of my logical and practical concerns to the contrary, I find myself smiling at the thought of becoming a mother. It's not at all how we planned it, but here I am, the future Gabe and I saw when we were kids coming into focus. I will finally have the child I've always wanted, with the man I've always loved.

  But the faint line between fantasy and reality dissolves and everything comes crashing down.

  How am I going to tell my parents? What if I don’t? People have totally gotten away with that, you know? I’ll keep buying bigger and bigger clothes and never mention it. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m eating my way out of depression. And then get all sensitive about the subject until they drop it. This could work. At least, until I go into labor. But then, they’re grandparents, again. They adore my oldest brother Mark’s kids. They'll be so overcome with joy, they'll forget to be mad about nine months of deceit. Probably.

  Holy hell, how am I going to tell Gabe? Where am I going to tell him? How does a person go about informing another person that life as they know it is over? I doubt the thought of little ones has ever so much as crossed his mind. At least not in an, I can’t wait for crumb-grabbers of my own, kind of way.