“I thought you had decided this was our baby?”
Hope clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d said it that way, hadn’t she? When trying to convince Lyon that he should marry her. “Lyon, I’m sorry. Don’t listen to me. I should just shut up and go home. That was just shock and hurt speaking.”
Before he could answer, Lyon’s radio triggered. He clicked the speaker he had tucked through his shoulder epaulet, but his gaze remained on Hope. “Teague, over.”
“Chief, we have a situation in town. Disgruntled diner put his chair through the front window of Sally’s Home Cooking.”
Watching Lyon turn into the left-brained machine, Hope wondered what could have happened at the warm and friendly restaurant. Someone off of his meds, she surmised.
“Has he been contained? Any injuries?”
“Juarez has him. A kid on a skateboard was passing by at the same time and has some nasty cuts. Paramedics are on the scene stabilizing him for transport to the hospital.”
“I’m on my way. Out.” Wearily rubbing his face, he gave Hope an enigmatic look. “I have to go.”
Feeling totally shut out of his mind and heart, Hope wrapped her arms around herself. “I hope the boy’s injuries aren’t severe. Be careful,” she added inanely.
“There’ll be statements to take and make, and paperwork.”
And they were still shorthanded.
“I don’t know when I’ll get through,” he concluded.
He stumbled slightly with “through,” which told Hope that he had intentionally avoided saying “home,” a term he used with visible pleasure since moving into the master suite with her. That made her want to go after him as he headed back to his patrol car and wrap her arms around him until he understood her. “Lyon,” she entreated as he paused and glanced at her over the roof. “I truly am sorry.”
“I know. But it’s what we say when we don’t intend to that says the most about how we feel.”
The disappointment flattening his voice hurt as much as his reluctance to hold her gaze, and he quickly climbed into his patrol car and drove off. Lucky man, she thought. He could escape her. How did she escape herself?
She had single-handedly brought an end to an idyllic few weeks. He had even been planning to go with her for the ultrasound in three days when she would hopefully be finding out if the baby was a boy or girl. This couldn’t be the flip side of those raging hormones, could it?
Nice try, Hope. Wrong is still wrong.
Knowing it would be impossible to return to the festivities and pretend all was well, Hope returned home. The sun was sinking fast on the horizon and the air was progressively cooling, but she dreaded the idea of spending the next hours cloistered in the house surrounded by Lyon’s possessions and scent when she knew how precarious she’d made things between them. After carrying in the painting and placing it on the mantle, she cut up some apples and walked out back to visit with the mares thinking maybe that pleasant task could distract her.
Desiree, the gray alpha female, was the first to spot her and trotted over with expectant enthusiasm for her share of treats. Black, mellow Bella, who liked to lay her head on Hope’s shoulder to where you couldn’t tell where her mane ended and Hope’s hair started was heaviest with child and came more slowly. Saucy, the Dun, was the daintiest and least likely to behave with or without treats. An eye-catching gold with a white mane, she was mindful of Desiree’s jealousy and impatience with her, but skirted around to get an apple slice at every opportunity.
Once she was out of treats, Hope walked over to the remains of the vegetable garden. She regretted not having had the time for a late-season garden this year, but promised herself that she would do better by spring. The baby would be here and they both would need the exercise and the fresh air.
Deep in thought, she failed to see or hear Saucy trying to sneak around Desiree, but apparently Desiree didn’t and the incensed horse charged. Whether she meant to keep Hope’s attention for herself or worried there might be one slice of apple left, the gray slammed into Saucy, who spun around screaming. She inadvertently struck Hope with her hind quarter knocking her off her feet as though she was nothing more than a bowling pin caught in a perfect strike.
Striving to catch her balance, Hope’s aim was inches off and, instead of stopping the fall, she raked her left hand and wrist over the sharp edge of the garden’s corner t-post and the overlapping cattle panels they used to keep the animals out of the plants. Hope knew even as she landed that she’d done more than scratch herself. Confirming that was a shout from far off. By the time the first blinding pain dimmed enough for Hope’s vision to clear, she saw the horses were dashing away as Tan came chasing across the pasture yelling like he was performing a solo rendition of Pickett’s Charge with a leaf rake held high instead of a rifle topped with a bayonet.
After her second attempt to get to her feet, she saw Molly was quickly catching up to him in their pickup.
“I come, Miss Hope!” Tan shouted as he neared. Then he went into a slew of Vietnamese that Hope thought sounded like a slew of kittens protesting as they were being dumped from a barrel. She didn’t identify one of the half dozen words she’d learned from him so far.
“It’s okay,” she lied holding her abused arm against her belly as she bent at the waist and kept her balance by bracing herself against the cattle panels. She didn’t care if the blood ruined her clothes or not. She’d already decided that she could never wear the thing again without being reminded of this awful day. “I just need to wash up and bandage it.”
“Need ER,” Tan enunciated carefully as he arrived beside her. Hardly breathing as she expected, he gently but firmly took hold of her arm to inspect the long, ugly wound.
Joining them, Molly was momentarily at a loss of what to do or say. “You—you need stitches. Tan stitches himself, but I think you need too many for him to do it.”
Hope didn’t need that visual in her mind what with her stomach going from queasy to openly in attack. One thing she knew for sure, she wasn’t leaving here. “I’ll settle for some disinfecting and pressure bandages,” Hope replied.
“Call Chief,” Tan directed his wife. “Maybe baby hurt.”
Shuddering at the mere thought, Hope reassured them as she did herself.
“No,” she said stroking her tummy with her good hand. “Things feel fine there, and Lyon is very busy with someone seriously injured in town today. Let’s not add to his troubles.”
Accepting that the Lees would not give up until they were convinced she was all right, she let them help her into the house and assist her in the clean up and wrapping of her hand and wrist. By the time it was done, under Tan’s direction, Molly had her looking like she was preparing to be the understudy for the remake of The Mummy.
While Tan went out to make sure everything was secure outside and the mares corralled for the night, Molly warmed up a cup of homemade chicken soup for her.
Once she convinced her that all she needed now was rest, Hope got Molly to leave, too. She was tired, depressed, and totally disgusted with herself for getting herself into the predicament of letting herself end up between two argumentative horses. She knew too well that you never assumed anything with an animal regardless of how fond they were of you, especially when the critters were larger than some of today’s hybrid automobiles.
She had been dusty before the fall and felt all the messier now. She should have asked Molly to stay and help her get undressed, but in the end, she had no reservations about taking scissors to her shirt. Once it was slit open like a gutted fish, she stripped out of it and the rest of her clothes. Getting her hair clipped on top of her head wasn’t too difficult thanks to today’s broad variety of hair accessories, and a plastic shopping bag served as adequate protection for her bandages from water.
A long soaking bath would probably have done her more good, but Hope was afraid once she got in she would fall asleep and sink underwater. She got into the shower, she got out of the shower and,
once toweled off, she collapsed into bed unable to summon the strength to bother with a nightgown.
Despite her protests not to, she began to hope that Tan or Molly did phone Lyon. But she fell asleep with a heavy heart knowing he would not come if he could.
It was nearly dark when Lyon drove into the garage. He was so tired and wired that he almost over-accelerated instead of braking, then he had to punch the garage genie three times to make it descend behind him. That was warning enough to get a grip before heading inside to face Hope.
Staying put and seeing things through in town had been the hardest thing he’d done since challenging his mortality against the flames burning up Will’s truck. When Tan called with the news about the horses and Hope’s injury, he had wanted badly to brush everything and everyone aside and race home, especially since Tan hadn’t been all that clear or reassuring at first. But being right in the middle of that fiasco at the community hospital, Lyon knew leaving would have been the equivalence to handing his badge away for good. Then what help would he be to Hope?
Tan had finally assured him that things were under control and that the bleeding had stopped, so he had been forced to put Hope’s well-being on an emotional backburner. But that had been over two hours ago—when Tan and Molly had been officially ordered home by Hope. It took only minutes to bleed to death, and from what Tan had told him, the worst of her cut had come extremely close to her most vital artery in her wrist.
Once inside, Lyon’s devil’s advocate kicked in stronger. It was so dark. That just wasn’t right. Hope liked either the plant light or the stove light on. If she knew he was running late, she would leave some of the accent lighting on, then later tweak down to the subtler lights. Wasting no time on hunting for buttons or plugs, he flipped the nearest switch and the room blinded him with fluorescent brilliance. Thinking that enough to see to every corner of the house, he made his way to the master suite.
The stark lighting didn’t wake her but he could see her clearly asleep in the bed. She looked so still and pale, and her injured hand lay across his pillow as though she was searching for him in her sleep. He didn’t see any sign of blood coming through the bandages that mummified her from the beginning of her palm to above her wrist, but the amount of area covered made his stomach twist as hard as when he’d first heard Tan’s voice on that incoming call.
The laceration had been that long?
He needed to see. Tan had some basic first aid knowledge—Lyon had inquired about that weeks ago after Hope had confided in them that she was pregnant—but that held less stock with him now when she suddenly moaned in her sleep. She was clearly feeling pain. And a wound that large would undoubtedly scar her permanently.
Feeling sick at heart, he eased down on his side of the bed. Yes, she was hurting; a small frown kept trying to etch a line between her eyebrows. Was that because of her hand alone, or was something going on in her womb?
He would go quickly and at least wash his hands so he could check her for fever and monitor her pulse. But before he could make good that intention, her lids lifted and he found himself looking into her eyes.
“You’re home.”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded unfamiliar to his own ears and he cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great, and none too bright. You can save the lecture or brow-beating, whichever was the plan. I’ve already given myself several renditions of both.”
The impulse to do either had vanished the instant he’d entered the dark house and thought the worst. “That’s some bandage.”
Hope glanced over at it as though that part of her anatomy belonged to someone else. She probably did wonder because she was careful not to move it.
“Overkill. The only reason Tan and Molly stopped was because they ran out of antibiotic ointment and gauze.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Tan also assured him that he had come into town to restock on bandages and such while Molly had kept an eye on her.
Grimacing, Hope averted her gaze. “I should have known Tan would call you.”
“You think I gave him my business card months back just to help him get out of a ticket?” When she briefly closed her eyes and compressed her lips, he knew she was feeling another throbbing or spasm and he wanted badly to sweep her into his arms and absorb the pain for her. Instead, he asked, “When did you last have a tetanus shot?”
As the moment passed, she opened her eyes to study the three-tiered ceiling. “Two years, six months and…I forget how many days ago. I’m safe.”
“Being a wise guy isn’t going to make me go away any sooner.”
Her look was sheer confusion. “Why would I want you to do that? What I was saying was that’s when I inadvertently ripped off half of this thumbnail.” She held up the right one that had since grown back perfectly.
This time it was Lyon’s turn to close his eyes. “How in heaven’s name did you do that?”
“I’m not a princess, Lyon,” she said with some indignation. “I did help create a good deal of what’s around here. My nails get dirty. Sometimes I hurt myself.”
He was upsetting her and didn’t mean to, but didn’t she see? They were married. She was his wife, and maybe the child wasn’t biologically his, but it was his nonetheless, and she had to let him be upset and worried for her, for them, whether it was rational to her or not.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” he said quietly.
Her gaze flicked to him, then away. “I tried to apologize. Now I’m scared and every time I open my mouth I seem to be making it worse.”
On the contrary, it was getting a little easier to breathe. He had thought they’d experienced something earlier today that would make him lose everything that they had begun to create together. He didn’t ever want to experience that feeling again.
“That boy in town?” he began sharing the other tiny slice of hell he’d lived in this afternoon. “His mother immediately threatened to sue the city as well as the idiot, who wouldn’t restrain his emotions. Sue despite the ordinance against skateboards on the sidewalks—and you know what? I can’t say that I blamed her. So I couldn’t leave until the boy was out of danger and I talked the mother down from her hysteria in order for Kent to speak with her. The town isn’t out of the woods yet, but the father finally arrived from a business trip out of state, and he talked with her, too. What you need to know is,” he concluded searching her face as though memorizing each feature anew, “during all of that and watching how easily it is to have everything in the world and then almost lose it, I was worried sick about you. I don’t know how much longer I could have stayed if the father didn’t arrive when he did.”
“Don’t say that.” Turning on her side so she could reach him with her good hand, she caressed the faint pink scars that remained on his ear, then brushed the backs of her fingers against his whisker-roughened jaw. “I’m proud you stayed. No one understands how hard it can be to do the right thing than you do, Lyon.”
They sat there letting their words heal them, and bond them closer.
Finally with a sound of regret Hope added, “I over-reacted about Rochelle. And I shouldn’t have let those two women get to me.”
“That would have been a good trick considering that they ambushed you.”
“Whatever. The thing is that under normal circumstances Summer’s behavior wouldn’t have been a blip on my radar.”
Lyon took hold of her right hand and touched his lips to it. “I know that. About Rochelle’s news…do you think it’s possible that the baby is someone else’s besides Will’s?”
“Clyde and Mercy will certainly be hoping so.”
When their gazes met again, they burst into laughter. Just as quickly Hope gasped.
“What?” Lyon started to reach for her bandaged hand and then checked himself. “Do you need a pain pill?”
Hope stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth a perfect O. Silently, she pushed the sheet down past her waist, took hold of his hand and laid it on h
er stomach.
“Hope…sweetheart…what’s wrong?” When she didn’t immediately answer, his dread grew. “Don’t do this to me. Are you cramping? I’ll get a blanket and take you straight to the hospital.”
“Ssh. Wait!”
Wait for what? he thought fearing the worst. Then he felt a bump beneath his fingers. “Whoa!”
Hope grinned through her tears.
“Oh, my.” He had just witnessed a miracle and couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Biscuit’s got quite a kick.”
“You should feel it from this side of things,” Hope mused.
Something quieted inside Lyon and he relaxed and stroked the spot over and over. “Do you think it’ll happen again?”
“I suspect so.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said as reason replaced wonder. She looked like a porcelain figurine, too perfect for him to touch. “Look at me, I need to shower.”
“But I wanted you to experience this with me.”
He met her radiant smile. “Is it the first time?”
She nodded.
When it happened again, he grinned like a fool. “That one wasn’t as strong. I bet it’s getting tired. Too much exercise for the first day.” Filled with spiritual grace and unfathomable tenderness, Lyon drew the sheet back up over her. “You have to keep it warm.”
Visibly tiring, Hope managed a chuckle. “You can’t keep calling her ‘it.’”
“Why are you calling her ‘her’?” She couldn’t know which she was having since the ultrasound wasn’t happening for days yet.
“I’ve been praying while waiting for you to come home. It helped to ignore the deepest throbs.” Her expression reflected both embarrassment and hope. “It struck me that it would be a blessing if the baby is a girl.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It would be easier on you.”
Easier for him to accept? Lyon was as blown away at her concern, but wondered, too. Didn’t she realize that any tiny life that came from her body would be precious to him?
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