by Kara Lennox
She glared at him. “You wretched faker.”
“Hey, turnabout’s fair play.”
She couldn’t really argue that one. And she didn’t get the opportunity. They’d arrived at the hospital, and Cal’s stretcher was whisked out of the ambulance and into the E.R. of Baylor Medical Center.
CAL GRINNED so much during the various tests the doctors administered that they were convinced he’d addled his brains. No needle pricks bothered him. No dire warnings about concussions and slipping into a coma fazed him. In the end, his tests came out normal and the doctors declared he had nothing but a mild concussion, for which they told him to take some Tylenol. Of course, they thought he was crazy, but that didn’t bother him.
He was still grinning when he emerged into the E.R. waiting room to find Willow pacing. He paused before announcing his presence just so he could gaze at her. He’d probably still give her a hard time about the haircut, but it actually looked good on her. Made her look less like a college kid and more like the grown-up woman she’d become.
He didn’t make a sound, but she looked over and saw him anyway.
“Cal!” She nearly tripped over a toddler in her haste to get to him. She threw her arms around him and almost knocked him over. “I’ve been so worried. What took so long?”
“You know hospitals. Everything takes forever. I’m fine. Just a little concussion.”
“Concussion?”
Her expression of intense worry almost made Cal laugh. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Hardly even a headache. Want to go shopping?”
“Shopping? It’s after midnight.”
“You don’t think we can find an all-night jewelry store? Because someone assured me you would say yes if I asked you to marry me.”
“And someone assured me he would do it up right this time.” She looked around and winced. “Not in a hospital waiting room, please.”
They went outside into the warm, clear night. “You’ll stay with me tonight, of course,” Willow said practically. “My apartment is only a five-minute cab ride from here. Since you have a concussion, someone will need to wake you up periodically during the night.”
“You’re sounding like a doctor already.” He threw an arm around her shoulders. “How about if we just stay up all night and talk about our future? We need some new goal charts, I think, and a time line for when we’ll have children and how we’ll save money for their college education—Oh, wait a minute, I’m doing it all wrong again.” He dropped to one knee right there on the walkway. “Will you marry me, Willow? I’m afraid this is as proper as I’m going to get.”
She started laughing and crying all at the same time. She couldn’t get any words out, but she nodded. And suddenly the breeze felt a little fresher, the stars a little brighter and his future a lot sunnier.
WINTER FINALLY arrived in Lancaster, Texas, just in time for Christmas. Balmy days and cool nights had abruptly given way to a whistling north wind and snow flurries.
Willow, exhausted from her end-of-term exams, was nonetheless excited about the upcoming holiday, her first Christmas as a married woman.
Though Willow’s parents had wanted to give her a big wedding with all the trimmings, Willow hadn’t felt she could spare the time to plan it—and she hadn’t wanted to wait, anyway. Cal, impatient to move ahead with the next phase of their lives, had wanted to elope to Vegas.
They’d compromised with a small church ceremony just before Thanksgiving. Their abbreviated honeymoon had consisted of a weekend trip to Texas’s South Padre Island. Then they’d moved their things into the cavernous farmhouse in Lancaster, which Cal had been working on every weekend.
The house still had a long way to go, but its former grace and charm were starting to shine through the years of grime and neglect. At least the roof didn’t leak anymore, and they now had an oven that worked well enough that they could roast a turkey. Paint and plaster did wonders for the appearance and kept the place cleaner. The dull oak floors had been almost magically transformed with some sanding, staining and polyurethane.
Willow had found several huge rolls of red velvet ribbon in a bargain bin at a thrift store. She fashioned it into bows, which she stuck everywhere, including all over the Christmas tree, and supplemented the décor with evergreen branches and pine cones dusted with silver glitter. Her decorations wouldn’t pass muster with Martha Stewart, but they were warm and cheerful. All three cats dashed around the house as if it were their personal playground, pouncing on pine cones and batting them under the furniture.
The scent of roasting turkey and cornbread dressing wafted through the house. A huge plank table in the dining room, which was just too big for them to use when they were alone, was set with holly-decorated linens and the Christmas china she’d collected as a girl but never had occasion to use.
At ten o’clock, the doorbell rang. Nana and Willow’s parents stood on the wide front porch, their arms loaded with packages, wool mufflers wrapped around their necks against the cold. Willow greeted them with hugs and kisses and immediately offered them coffee, tea and hot chocolate to drink.
“We don’t have central heating yet,” she explained. “Near the fire it’s warm, though. And in the kitchen.”
Nana, of course, made a beeline for the kitchen. She’d brought some homemade pies, but she was still itching to cook, and Cal, who had taken charge of the feast, accommodated her.
Cal’s parents and grandfather arrived a few minutes later, followed immediately by his older sister, Denise, and her husband, Tom, who’d driven down from Michigan.
Soon the house was filled with voices and laughter. Willow had a warm glow inside her that had nothing to do with her hot chocolate. This was how holidays should feel. She remembered Christmases like this from her childhood, when her grandfather was still alive, and her aunts and uncles and cousins would all gather at someone’s house and eat and drink and laugh and watch football and eat some more.
When the turkey was finally cooked and they all gathered around the festive table, Nana and Doc Chandler both said a short blessing. Then Nana commented, “This is just like a Norman Rockwell painting.”
“Only one thing missing, though,” Doc said. “The patter of little feet.” He looked straight at Willow when he said it.
Did he know? Could he tell just by looking at her? Oh, Lord, she hadn’t even told Cal yet! She’d only taken the test yesterday, and she wanted to get a doctor’s opinion before she told anyone.
“Um, excuse me,” she said, getting up quickly from the table before her face gave her away. “I forgot the, uh, croutons….” She walked briskly toward the kitchen, resisting the urge to run.
But she didn’t fool Cal for a minute. She should have known he would figure out something was up. He was an expert at reading an animal’s body language, but she’d discovered he was pretty darn good at reading hers, too.
She leaned against the edge of the sink, breathing slowly, trying to regain her composure. Cal came up behind her.
“Croutons? For what, the cranberry sauce? There’s no salad on the table.”
She turned around and found herself in the circle of his arms. “I misspoke.”
His eyes danced. “Are you pregnant?”
She caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “Think so.”
Cal whooped and spun her around.
“No, don’t, don’t, you’ll make me throw up if I get dizzy. Look, I know this doesn’t exactly fit neatly into our goals—”
“We’ll make new goal charts.”
“Do you think I can still manage school?”
“Oh, honey, of course. I’ll be here. I’ll take care of the baby. We’ll make it work just like we’ve made everything else work. We’ll come up with a plan.”
Nana peeked into the kitchen. “Everything all right in here?”
“We’re having a baby,” Cal said.
“What?” said Dave Marsden. “A baby? I’m gonna be a grandfather?” And pretty soon everybody was in the kitchen, le
tting their food get cold while they hugged Willow and thumped Cal on the back as if he’d done something heroic and stupendous.
It wasn’t heroic, Willow decided. It was miraculous. Fate’s way of forcing her hand once again. Yet she didn’t resent the change of plans one bit. There seemed to be a method to the madness that occasionally visited her life. If she hadn’t had the car accident, she probably never would have let her guard down long enough to get back together with Cal. And while having a baby a few years earlier than she’d planned might seem like a problem, Willow knew it was truly a blessing, yet another in a life that seemed to be overflowing with blessings these days.
She and Cal wore matching, goofy grins the rest of the day.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6925-8
THE FORGOTTEN COWBOY
Copyright © 2005 by Kara Lennox.
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