The Horseman's Convenient Wife

by Mindy Neff

  ‘‘Eden’s not pregnant yet. It’s been four months.’’

  Chance gave a slight nod. ‘‘Nature’s fickle, Stony, and Eden’s body is weak.’’ His eye contact was direct, regretful. ‘‘It might not happen.’’

  ‘‘Maybe not. But since I’ve never actually fathered a child, I’d like to be sure it’s not me who can’t make it happen.’’

  ‘‘I doubt that’s the case, but I can certainly run a test.’’

  Stony felt some of the stiffness drain out of his shoulders. Just like that, Chance had known what to say.

  Stony nodded. There wasn’t any time to waste. Because if it turned out that the problem was him, that he couldn’t father a child, Eden would need time to find someone else. The thought made him want to put his fist through the nearest wall, but he knew he would release her in a minute. No woman deserved to go through the debilitating anemia Eden was suffering. Surgery would correct it, but that would break her heart. She deserved every chance at a successful conception that he could give her.

  ‘‘Yeah, I’d like to do the test.’’

  BY THE THIRD WEEK IN NOVEMBER Eden could no longer suppress the giddiness, the nausea…and the fear.

  Her period was late.

  She pressed her hand to her abdomen. Was there even now the tiny beginnings of a baby in her womb?

  Or what if the absence of heavy flow was some freaky phase of the disease that Dr. Amies might have mentioned but Eden hadn’t remembered? She wondered if a person could wish away their menstrual cycle. One of her employees had missed two months due to stress and, Eden suspected, nearly starving herself to death. An anorexic working at a catering company. Hard to imagine, but that’s how it had turned out. Thankfully Jennifer had gotten help and was on the mend.

  Eden went into the downstairs bathroom, opened the drawer where a couple of pregnancy test boxes lay. She’d bought two, figuring if she only got one, fate might slap her down for being overconfident. Plus, if she had to go back to the store more than once, that’d be like taking out an ad in the paper that Eden Williams—Stratton, she amended with a little tickle in her stomach—wasn’t pregnant.

  She touched the box, her hands trembling. One pink line for no. Two pink lines for yes.

  She slammed the drawer shut and leaned against the counter, pressed her hands prayer-like to her lips. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Don’t jinx it.

  She stood there debating for a good ten minutes, then finally addressed her reflection in the mirror. ‘‘This is ridiculous, Eden. It’s just a little box. It’s not a snake. If it says no, you’ll deal with it.’’ She plowed her fingers through her hair, closed her fists, felt the pull against her scalp. ‘‘Okay. If I don’t get my period by tonight, I’ll do it.’’

  She snatched open the bathroom door and plowed right into Stony’s chest. ‘‘Oh!’’

  He steadied her with his hands at her elbows, his expression concerned, searching. He knew when her period was due, and from that very first embarrassing time after the Fourth of July, he’d made a habit of watching her closely around the second week of the month, agonizing with her, taking care of her when pain and weakness made it difficult to stay on her feet.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d found him outside the bathroom door, waiting, ready to catch her if she crumbled.

  His thumb swept softly across her cheek. ‘‘You’re still late, aren’t you?’’

  She could feel her lips tremble when she smiled, feel the giddy host of butterflies in her stomach, feel her heart jumping. ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Did you take the test?’’

  Now her hands were trembling. ‘‘I was going to wait till tonight.’’

  He raised his brows.

  ‘‘I’m scared,’’ she whispered.

  ‘‘Then don’t do it.’’

  She shook her head. ‘‘It’ll drive me nuts. I have to know one way or the other.’’ Drawing air into her lungs, hoping to calm some of these nerves, she decided that it was now or never. It was pure foolishness to act this way. ‘‘Okay. Go away.’’ If he waited outside the door, she probably wouldn’t be able to pee. She whirled and went back in the bathroom, ripped the cellophane off the box and read the instructions three more times.

  Stony made a pot of coffee to give himself something to do. He couldn’t believe how uptight he was, the expectation. The thought of his baby growing inside Eden excited him, and it worried him.

  He whirled around when she came out of the bathroom, and he knew it wasn’t good news even before she shook her head. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such a desolate expression on a person’s face. Her eyes were dry, as though the hurt went too deep for tears.

  He stepped toward her, but she held up her hand.

  ‘‘Don’t.’’

  Stony thought his heart was going to rip open and bleed. That single word held so much pain the sound practically stung. ‘‘Eden—’’

  ‘‘I’m fine.’’ Her tone was abrupt, her hand still up to keep him from closing the distance between them. ‘‘I mean it, Stony. Don’t touch me…please. I…I just need some time. Because if you’re nice to me right now I think I might shatter.’’

  She left the room, and Stony felt his throat ache. Her sorrow scraped him raw.

  Nikki came bursting in the back door. ‘‘Where’s Eden? Can she come watch me ride Pony?’’

  ‘‘Not just now, Nik. She’s not feeling good. How about if I come, though.’’

  ‘‘Okay. But I gotta go potty first.’’

  Stony waited for Nikki to come back out, wishing he knew what to say to Eden. Chance had put a rush on the lab test and had called to tell him everything checked out A-okay.

  The relief had been so strong, he’d had to sit down.

  So, damn it, why couldn’t that pregnancy test have been positive?

  By the time Nikki finished doing her business in the bathroom, she’d decided against riding the pony and took off to play hide-and-seek with Rosie.

  Stony went out to the barn, vacating the kitchen so that if Eden wanted to come back in and work out her emotions in a bowlful of bread dough, she’d have the solitude to do so.

  But by dinner the strain was about to eat Stony alive. She was so quiet. He knew she was hurting, and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

  As soon as she put Nikki to bed, Eden went into their bedroom and shut the door. Stony paced in front of the fireplace for ten minutes, then decided he couldn’t keep this up. He gentled horses every day, never crowded them, waited patiently until they were ready to come to him. And when he turned his back, he was telling the horse he trusted him, his body language asking the horse to trust him, too.

  That’s what Eden was doing to him, he decided. Turning away because she trusted him. And that meant he could follow.

  And if it didn’t? Well, that was just too damned bad. He took the stairs two at a time. She wasn’t going to be alone with her sadness one more minute.

  His heart thumped in his chest as he opened the door, saw her standing by the window gazing out at the stars, arms wrapped around her waist hugging herself. He strode across the room, caught her just as she turned, lifted her right up against him and covered her mouth with his before she had a chance to put up a shield. He poured every ounce of his frustration, desire, sorrow and his soul into that kiss.

  When she made a little sound of surrender and wound her arms around his neck he nearly shook. He’d wanted to chase away her shadows, and she’d just joined in the race, her mouth eating at his, her arms squeezing, her breasts flattened against his chest. There was frenzy in her actions, and in his, their mouths dueling as though they were mortal enemies one minute, thrusting and parrying, then wild lovers the next, unable to get close enough, wanting in, seeking to appease and be appeased.

  He tasted the salt of her tears and pulled back, looking down at her. The rivulets spilling from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks stung his heart like drops of acid.

&
nbsp; ‘‘Oh, baby, don’t.’’ He held her tighter than he meant to, pressed her head to his shoulder. He needed her like mad, but he had to get a rein on his emotions. She was fragile, and he was tied in knots. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her more.

  She resisted his efforts to cradle her. With hands that trembled, she framed his face, looked deep into eyes, let him see the sadness there, the invitation, the plea.

  ‘‘Are you sure?’’ His voice was barely above a whisper, feeling as if it had scraped all the way up his throat.

  She nodded, pressed her lips against his neck. ‘‘Don’t be gentle with me, Stony. I need…’’

  ‘‘I know what you need, baby. We’ll stop the clock, even if it’s just for tonight.’’ And he wished like hell the clock would stop. Because only thirty-nine days remained before their six months were up—and that wasn’t enough.

  A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER Eden began spotting. She popped more vitamin and iron tablets, waiting for the inevitable blood loss, the debilitating tiredness. She didn’t need this now. She had twenty or so people coming for Thanksgiving dinner. When the rush of blood didn’t come, Eden took it as a blessing. Maybe…just maybe the disease was going into remission. Oh, if only…

  She baked pies and corn bread, mixed up dough for rolls and saute´ed celery and onions, filling the house with warmth and mouthwatering scents. When the turkey was cleaned and dressed and in the oven, she set the dining-room table for eighteen and draped a washable tablecloth over a folding table for the kids. Even though they were only expecting about twenty guests, there was seating here for at least twenty-five. One thing she’d say about these Montana ranches—they had banquet-size dining rooms—at least the three she’d been in did.

  Floor-to-ceiling French windows let in light and offered the postcard view of pristine snow piled atop fences and pillowed over barn roofs. A fire crackled in the corner fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows over the cherry wood floors. The high ceiling, too, was covered in wood, intricately carved, with deep crown molding around the perimeter. A built-in hutch, marble-topped sideboard and Chippendale table were also stained in various hues of cherry, the chair cushions covered in crushed blue velvet. The warmth of wood and china and velvet invited you to come in and sit a spell and be part of the family.

  With an apron tied over her wool sweater and slacks, and ribbons decorating her hair, Eden breezed back into the kitchen and had the potatoes boiling when the guests began to arrive.

  From there the house filled with laughter, teasing, children running and shrieking, dogs scrambling and general chaos. Eden dodged it all, in her element. The sheriff, Cheyenne Bodine, came in his squad car with Chance Hammond riding shotgun, which garnered the poor doctor plenty of teasing. Ethan and his brothers Grant and Clay were in the den along with Wyatt, Stony and the old cronies, all of them arguing over something Eden couldn’t hear.

  Dora breezed in, and Eden prayed she wouldn’t offer to help. Hannah, sitting at the kitchen table nursing the baby, met Eden’s eyes and smiled. Obviously she knew Dora’s disorganization, too. Vera and Iris were busy arranging olives, onions and cranberry sauce in cut-glass condiment dishes.

  ‘‘Naturally they’re in there fighting over the remote,’’ Dora said, snitching an olive off the dish as soon as Iris set it down. ‘‘Switching back and forth between the ball game and car racing. What is it with men and gadgets. It’s a wonder Ethan and his brothers don’t kill each other over who gets to hold the thing.’’ As quickly as she’d whirled in the kitchen, Dora whirled out again.

  The next thing Eden knew, Ethan was shouting. She ran into the den, heart pounding, worried sick someone had been hurt—Katie? Nikki? Ian?

  Hannah, Vera and Iris followed.

  Ethan had Dora in his lap, holding her as though she was about to expire before his eyes. ‘‘Easy, legs.’’ He looked terrified. ‘‘Chance, get the hell over here.’’

  ‘‘Language, Ethan,’’ Clay and Grant admonished.

  ‘‘For Pete’s sake, Ethan,’’ Dora said.

  ‘‘Hush up.’’ He ignored his brothers and glared at Chance who was squatting in front of them, looking at Dora with an enigmatic smile on his face.

  ‘‘She nearly fainted,’’ Ethan said. ‘‘By God, she’d have fallen on the floor if I hadn’t been there. What’s the matter with her? Sweetheart, let Chance have a look at you.’’

  ‘‘If you’d let one of us get a word in edgewise, I’d tell you that I’m not sick.’’

  ‘‘Yes you are. You lost every bit of your color and nearly fainted dead away. I saw you with my own—’’

  ‘‘I’m pregnant.’’

  ‘‘—eyes, and if you’d quit being so stubborn and…’’ He snapped his mouth shut, stared at her dumbfounded. ‘‘What did you say? Did you say…?’’ He swallowed hard. ‘‘You’re…?’’ a whisper now.

  She nodded, smiled softly at him. ‘‘Going to have your baby.’’

  As Ethan kissed his wife with a tenderness that touched every person in the room, Ozzie Peyton said softly, ‘‘That is fine, fine news, you bet. Just what we planned for. Isn’t that right, boys?’’ Henry, Lloyd and Vern all nodded.

  Eden’s emotions were riding as high as everyone else’s in the room. The love and happiness between Dora and Ethan Callahan was so utterly tangible, it was as though each person here had somehow shared a part in the pregnancy.

  The image of her own pregnancy test with a single pink line flashed in Eden’s mind, but the wound of disappointment wasn’t raw and bleeding any longer. Stony had made sure of that.

  She looked across the room, didn’t see him, then felt his hand at her neck, under her hair. He tucked her against his side, his palm spanning the entire width of her back as he rubbed from the top of her spine to the bottom and back again.

  She noticed how the others around them darted quick, concerned glances at her. Just that, though. They didn’t fuss. The support and love in this room was overwhelming.

  She’d expected to form friendships when she’d come to Montana, but nothing like this. Nothing so genuine. My gosh, even a trip to the market meant you’d better just mark off the whole day because you would run into so many people to chat with you’d think you were at a reunion.

  In the city Eden couldn’t tell for sure if a clerk was new or had been there for forty years—and being in the food business, Eden spent a lot of time at the market. She thought about the business she’d built from scratch, sacrificed for—even putting on hold the pursuit of a relationship, husband and children.

  Garden of Eden had ten employees now, and they’d moved the operation out of Eden’s kitchen and into a five-thousand-square-foot building equipped with industrial-size ovens, built-in appliances, freezers, gadgets and anything else a chef could wish for. She’d mortgaged her house to the hilt and paid the loan off within a year.

  Here in Shotgun Ridge, Eden was still doing what she loved, cooking for others—just not for profit. Unless someone asked for something special, like Iris introducing a more extensive dessert menu at Brewer’s. Eden didn’t mind running the orders into town, now that she’d gotten the hang of driving Stony’s big ol’ truck with the huge knobby tires. She felt like king of the hill—or highway rather.

  And why in the world was she comparing Montana to her own home in the first place?

  ‘‘Now I’ve really done it,’’ Ethan said with an exuberant laugh. ‘‘I got the preacher’s daughter pregnant.’’

  Eden squeezed Stony’s waist, then slipped from beneath his arm and went to Dora, hugging her friend tight. ‘‘I’m so tickled for you.’’

  ‘‘Oh, Eden. I wasn’t going to announce this tonight—’’

  ‘‘Nonsense. This is the perfect time. You’re surrounded by friends and family.’’ She grinned. ‘‘And just think, you won’t have to worry about the grapevine getting the facts all distorted. Bless it, by the time the news got all the way down the line they’d have had you adopting a monkey
instead of having a baby.’’

  Dora laughed, squeezed Eden tight. ‘‘Love does strange and wonderful things, Eden. You keep hold of that thought, and everything else will work itself out.’’

  IN BED THAT NIGHT, after the kitchen was clean and the guests were gone, when Stony’s body was buried deep inside hers, Dora’s words came back to Eden.

  Love does strange and wonderful things.

  Oh, yes, Eden thought. The touch of his hands, the press of his lips, the light in his gaze all told her Stony cared about her. That this was much more than just fulfilling a promise. Could anyone be this gentle otherwise? Could the chemistry be this strong? Was it just compassion, or was it more? She wanted to ask but didn’t have the courage.

  Suddenly she felt urgency sweep through her, fear battering at the edges of her vision, a sense of foreboding she didn’t understand. What would she do if she lost him? If there wasn’t more? She started to move beneath him, felt as though crucial moments would slip through her fingers if she didn’t hurry, show him, pour her heart out.

  ‘‘Shh,’’ he whispered as though he’d heard her thoughts. He held her still, pressed harder, deeper inside her. And that’s it.

  He didn’t move, yet she could feel the clutch of pleasure begin, felt her body involuntarily squeeze him, saw his eyes close and a muscle in his jaw flinch. He shifted higher, gave one slow, deep thrust, and with nothing more than the steady pressure of his body filling hers, Eden crested the peak of bliss. Her fingers bit into his buttocks, pulling him tighter. Holding him motionless, deeper, harder, she undulated her hips beneath him, against him.

  Violent spasms contracted over and over, seemed to have no end, the glove-tight squeezing of her feminine muscles bringing Stony right along with her. With his lips pressed to hers, his palms cradling her head, he emptied his seed into her, kissed her as though she were the most cherished gift he could ask for, gazed at her so tenderly she could have wept.