by Sharon Sala
This morning, after breakfast and after everyone else had gone about their business, she had retreated to their bedroom and was now curled up on the bed with her lap full of yarn and a partially crocheted afghan. It was a skill that Dorothy had taught her on her first visit to the ranch, and one she now found soothing. It gave her great satisfaction to know that she could create beauty and warmth out of nothing more than loops and knots in a single strand of yarn.
The afghan, like Cat, was a work in progress.
Her stomach rumbled as she worked, and she paused for a moment to reach for the glass of iced cola she had on the table. Every now and then she still felt queasy, but a sip of something carbonated seemed to help, and the queasiness always went away.
Wilson was in the living room on speakerphone, talking with his secretary, LaQueen, and John Tiger, the friend he’d hired before he’d been shot. Cat knew that if it hadn’t been for the two of them, Wilson’s bail bond business would have gone belly-up.
From where she was sitting, she could just make out the low rumble of his voice. Although she couldn’t hear what he was saying, it didn’t matter. He was nearby, which was enough.
As she continued to crochet, a bird flew by the window near the bed. Cat caught the movement from the corner of her eye and paused long enough to look out. The sun was shining. The day was clear. Spring was here, but it would be a month or so before the smothering heat of summer followed.
She sighed, then leaned against the headboard of the bed, giving her eyes a rest before returning to the handwork in her lap. It probably wouldn’t take her more than a couple of weeks to finish this, and then she could—
Suddenly Cat sat straight up in bed. Her heart began to pound, and her stomach turned.
“Oh. My. God.”
She tossed the afghan to the side and crawled out of bed as she scrambled to reach the desk on the other side of the room. The daily calendar had been sadly neglected and was several days behind the correct date. But it wasn’t the exact day she needed. It was the passage of time.
She stared at the small monthly calendar at the top of the page, then closed her eyes and made herself focus. The last time she remembered having her period was right before she’d gone to Chihuahua and gotten the life nearly beaten out of her.
She’d thought about it soon after, but had attributed being late to the trauma of the beating. And just when she’d been getting well, Wilson had been shot. After that, nothing had mattered but keeping him alive.
She sat down at the desk and began counting the days. By the time she was through, she was shaking.
Never in her life had she been late, but according to the calendar, she was two days shy of being two months overdue.
She thought of how many times lately she’d felt queasy at breakfast, and how many times she’d crawled into bed for an afternoon nap. Neither of those behaviors was normal for her.
But she’d never been pregnant before.
She got up from the chair and headed for the bathroom, then turned to stand before the full-length mirror. She still looked the same. A shade too thin, long hair in need of a cut. She touched her breasts, then shivered when they felt tender to the touch.
Her heart was hammering against her ribcage as she turned sideways and pulled up her shirt. Her belly was still flat—but at two months it would be. She dropped her shirt, then sat down on the lid of the toilet seat and started to shake.
Could this be true?
Was she having Wilson’s child?
Even though they used protection, it was certainly possible. Nothing was foolproof.
Suddenly, she had to know. Thankful that her own car was back in operation, she headed out the door on the run.
Wilson was still on the phone when Cat went flying through the room. He waved a hello, but she didn’t even look his way.
Curious, he quickly ended his conversation and ran to catch up.
She was already on her way out the back door with her wallet and car keys in her hand.
“Hey! Where’s the fire?” he asked, as he caught up with her on the porch.
Cat felt like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.
“Uh…I’m just going to make a quick trip into town. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. I’ll go with you,” Wilson said.
“No, it’s okay. I won’t be long.”
Wilson frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked.
She hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but this wasn’t exactly how she would have planned on telling the man she loved that he was about to become a father. Besides, she didn’t know that for sure.
“Nothing. I just need to pick up some stuff at the pharmacy.”
“Why can’t I go with you?”
Now she felt cornered. “Maybe I just want to shop on my own.”
Wilson knew something was up, but he’d come too close to losing her too many times to let her stubbornness stand in the way of needing help.
“I’ll stay in the car,” he said.
“Fine. But I’m driving.”
“Do you know where the nearest pharmacy is?”
She glared. “No.”
“Then wouldn’t it be better if I drove while you sulked?”
Cat handed him the keys and got into her newly repaired SUV. He was still on the porch by the time she’d buckled up. The look she gave him was enough to get him moving.
He got behind the wheel, then started the engine.
“If you dawdle, I’m going to be pissed,” she muttered.
He grinned. “That’s all right. My favorite kittens in the litter were always the ones that were all hissy-pissy.”
Cat tried to be mad, but it was the grin on his face, and that little gold loop in his ear glittering in the sunlight just like the gleam in his eyes, that told her she wasn’t going to win this round.
She threw up her hands and leaned back.
“I’m ready when you are,” she muttered.
Just for the sake of aggravation, Wilson stayed five miles under the speed limit all the way into Austin.
“Will this one do?” he asked, as he pointed to a large chain pharmacy at the end of the block.
“Yes. It’ll be fine,” Cat said.
Wilson nodded, then pulled into a parking space.
Cat’s hand was on the handle when she paused, then turned to Wilson.
“I won’t be long.”
He sighed. “I’ll wait in the car like I promised.”
She knew she was behaving just like she had before, keeping secrets, not willing to share the personal side of her life with him, even after they’d been sleeping together. Regretting her earlier snub, she put a hand on his arm.
“Thank you. I’m not shutting you out. I just need you to trust me for a bit.” Then she leaned over and kissed him square on the lips, lingering just long enough to start an ache in his belly. “Be right back,” she said, and was out the door and into the pharmacy before his blood pressure settled.
A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw; then he made himself relax and dropped his hands into his lap. So what if she was making him crazy? He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Inside, Cat was scanning the aisles, looking for feminine hygiene products and guessing that pregnancy test kits would be nearby.
They weren’t.
She wasted so much time looking that she began to fear Wilson would get tired of waiting and come inside, and that wasn’t how she wanted him to find out, either. Finally she gave up and went to the pharmacy counter to ask for help.
A helpful clerk stepped out from behind the counter and led her to a nearby display. The neat metal tag on her smock had the name Vicki Ostrowski on it.
Cat tried to imagine going through life with that last name, wondering how many times Vicki Ostrowski had to spell it over the phone to be understood.
“What kind do you prefer?” Vicki asked.
Cat’s pulse accelerated. The last thing she needed was pressur
e.
“Kind? There are kinds? I don’t know. All I need to know is if I’m pregnant.”
The tension in her voice was telling. Vicki took pity on her and chose one for her.
“This one is the simplest. Follow the instructions, and if a cross shows up on the tester, then you are. If there’s a minus sign, then you’re not. How’s that for easy?”
“A lot easier than it was to get this way,” Cat muttered, and took the box Vicki gave her.
Vicki stifled a grin as Cat headed to the checkout counter. A couple of minutes later, she was on her way to the car with her sack in hand.
Wilson saw her come out and wisely refused to comment on the bag she was carrying as she got inside and buckled up. He couldn’t imagine her suddenly going all shy on him about buying feminine products, but he wasn’t going to be an ass a second time and insist she tell him what she’d bought when he’d already insisted on coming with her. Just because the bruises were fading and Cat was moving normally, that didn’t mean she felt all right. If he’d been blown six ways to Sunday by a tornado, he might be acting a little strange, too.
“Need to do any more shopping, baby?”
It was the tenderness in his voice that was Cat’s undoing.
She shook her head and then, to her horror, started to cry.
Wilson was stunned. It took more than kind words to make Catherine Dupree cry. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong, but now he was scared.
“Honey…baby…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you into letting me come with you.”
Cat swiped at her cheeks, irked that she seemed to be coming undone. “And I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”
Wilson’s heart skidded to a stop. Had the twister done something awful to her that she was just now realizing? Had she been hurt in some way from the beating she’d suffered and now was afraid to tell him? A thousand scenarios ran through his mind in the space of seconds, and none of them were good.
“If there’s something you want to tell me, we can deal with this together. Whatever it is…know that you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I know,” she said. “Just get me home and then we’ll talk. I don’t want to go into it yet.”
Wilson tried to put on a brave face, but he was past scared and getting down to terrified. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong, but this was Catherine’s call. She’d asked him to wait until they were home, so wait he would.
The drive home was silent. The sack Cat had carried out of the pharmacy was in her lap, beneath her hands. Every so often the plastic would crackle a little, like a rattlesnake shaking its rattles, a warning for all to remember it was there and steer clear.
Wilson kept glancing at Cat, trying to read her mood, but it was impossible. He finally gave up and just drove.
Cat knew she’d handled this badly. She’d led him to believe something was wrong, but that wasn’t true. She wasn’t worried, just anxious. She wanted it to be true, but all of this was taking some getting used to.
She’d never even thought about her future until she’d met Wilson McKay, and she’d never really thought about having babies until she’d found baby Maria Elena and her dead mother in the desert on her way to Agua Caliente. There’d been something so natural about cuddling the little girl to her breast—and surprisingly painful about giving her up.
Now, here she was, trying to come to terms with the thought of having a baby of her own. If only…
“We’re home,” Wilson said.
Cat looked up in surprise. She’d been so lost in thought, she’d missed them turning off the highway, then driving down the long road to the ranch. But then what he said finally registered.
Home. He’d said they were home.
She looked at the sprawling ranch house with the gray roof and white siding, and its deep shady porches, and thought of all the children and laughter this house had held. In the short time she’d been here, it had become more of a home to her than her Dallas apartment had felt like all the years she’d been there.
Wilson killed the engine, gave Cat a long look, and then quietly got out of the car and went into the house.
She took a deep breath and followed him in.
The kitchen was rich with the scent of chicken frying. A large red plate was piled high with homemade cookies. Carter was opening a jar of peaches, and Wilson was at the sink, washing his hands.
“Hey, there you are,” Dorothy said. “I was wondering if you two would come back for dinner.”
Cat glanced at Wilson, then managed a slight smile. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back to help.”
“You just take your time,” Dorothy said. “Carter is all the help I need.”
Cat nodded, then left the room. The closer she got to the bedroom, the faster she went. By the time she was inside, she was running. She went straight to the bathroom and closed the door, took the test kit out of the bag, tore into it and began reading. After following the directions, she took the test stick, went back into the bedroom, sat down on the side of the bed and began to stare at the clock.
It was turning into the longest three minutes of her life.
She began remembering bits and pieces from her childhood that she hadn’t thought of in years—times when her mother had slept with her when she was sick. Times when her mother had taught her to say her ABCs while she brushed the tangles from her hair. Memories of baking cookies and picking flowers and holding her mother’s hand when they crossed a street. Then she’d been killed in the car wreck and Cat had lived, and now memories were all she had left.
She glanced out the window, watching the old tomcat stalking a meadowlark in the backyard. Her vision blurred. She wiped away tears, then looked toward the clock. Only a minute? It seemed like a lifetime.
She glanced at the afghan lying in a heap on the bed and pictured it wrapped around her own shoulders while she sat in the chair nursing her child. She shivered and looked at the clock, watching as the numbers blinked, indicating yet another minute had passed.
Two down. One to go.
Her hands were shaking. It was hard to breathe. If this test was positive, then she’d been pregnant when Solomon Tutuola had beaten her senseless, and she’d been pregnant when she’d been sucked out of Wilson’s pickup truck and tossed into the tornado funnel like so much garbage. If she was having a baby, would it be okay, or would the things she’d endured be the cause of it coming into this world less than healthy and whole?
She gave the digital clock one more look just as the numbers changed again.
Three minutes were up.
The test stick was in her hand.
All she had to do was open her fingers and look down.
It wasn’t much. Just the simple act of opening a thumb and four fingers, and bending her head, but—dear God—so much was riding on this. She whispered a prayer then looked down.
Her legs were shaking as she stood up, but all she could think about was getting to Wilson.
She headed for the door, only to meet him striding down the hall.
“I was coming to look for you,” she said.
Wilson stopped at the threshold, waiting for an invitation. “Here I am,” he said.
Cat took his hand and tugged.
“Come inside with me.”
Wilson couldn’t read her mood, but her eyes were glassy, proof she was on the verge of tears. In his mind, that didn’t bode well. He didn’t know what to think, but he was scared. When she turned to face him, it was the jut of her chin that startled him. He hadn’t seen that in months. Mutiny had been an active part of her past, and he didn’t want it back. Even scarier, when she began to speak, he couldn’t read the tone of her voice.
“Do you remember when you came over to my apartment with beer and pizza right before I took off for Mexico?”
Wilson began to get nervous. “Yes?”
“And do you remember those five twenty dollar bills you tossed on my bed when you left?”
He felt like he’d been kic
ked in the gut. His eyes narrowed. “Is this what you’ve been stewing about all day? If it is, then please tell me what I’ve done now that resurrected the attitude.”
“I’m not stewing, and I don’t have an attitude,” Cat said.
“Then why are you bringing it up if you’re not still pissed?”
Cat handed him the test stick.
“This is what you bought for your money.”
Wilson looked down. For a few seconds the implication didn’t register; then he began reading the company name on the plastic stick, and suddenly, he got it.
He looked up at Cat and could tell she was nervous—even a little anxious.
“Oh my God, Catherine. Did we just go into Austin to buy a pregnancy test kit?”
She nodded.
His heart skipped a beat.
“Does this cross mean you are—or you aren’t?”
“Are.”
He started to smile. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. Are you okay with this?”
He couldn’t speak. He just picked her up in his arms, swung her off her feet and kissed her. Softly, at first, and then with as much passion as he could muster in the face of overwhelming joy.
The warmth of his lips was a mirror to the warmth in her heart. Right now, her world couldn’t be any better. Then he turned her loose with a soft, achy groan and hit her with the same question.
“From my side of the fence, this is the best news I’ve had in years, but how do you feel about being pregnant?”
“Oh, Wilson, I want this baby so much, but…I’m scared.”
He frowned. “Scared of having a baby…or becoming a parent?”
“No. None of that. But if the test is correct, then I was pregnant when Tutuola beat me to within an inch of my life, and pregnant during the tornado that chewed me up and spit me out somewhere in the middle of one of your dad’s pastures. What if the baby’s been harmed?”
Wilson kissed the side of her cheek, then laid the flat of his hand on her belly.
“Right now that little baby is in the safest place it could ever be. And if you had been going to lose it, I think it would already have happened. Still, I’ll call my sister and find out the name of her obstetrician.”