by Leigh Riker
His jet-lagged stomach was rumbling—for lunch, dinner, breakfast?—when Charlie’s wife walked into the clinic.
Formerly, she’d been their receptionist and sometime nurse, but since the landslide, like Charlie, she’d been pulling double duty. Sawyer drew her into an empty exam room. He had a final patient with a bellyache waiting in the other. Sawyer kissed Piper’s cheek, pleased when she didn’t draw away, drop her gaze or lash out at him like Charlie had. He glanced at her swollen abdomen.
“Coming along,” he said as a mental image of Khalil crossed his mind. Boy or girl, he wanted to ask but didn’t. He was no more certain of her feelings toward him than he was of Charlie’s, but at least she hadn’t turned her back on him. In fact, Piper smiled and her green eyes lit up. Even her dark red hair shone, like the healthy flush in her face.
“This pregnancy has flown by—maybe because we’ve been so busy here. I would have come sooner, but C.J.’s home with the cold that seems to be going around and I had to wait for a sitter.” She paused. “You saw Charlie?”
“How long has he been like this?” So much for the happy homecoming he hadn’t expected.
“Since you left.”
Not much else had changed. The village of Sitara looked little better than when he’d gone back to America. Rubble still lay in piles by the side of the road and in the village streets, and the well in the square was covered with a sign that read in Kedarese, Warning: Danger. Do not Drink. Every other person he met, it seemed, still bore scars or healing wounds from the landslide.
Sawyer couldn’t keep from glancing out the window at the naked mountain, devoid of trees and houses and the goats that had played on the hillsides before being swept away as if the rocky face had turned into a raging river. People here were suffering, and he’d been living like the King of Kansas. Teaching a horse to behave, falling in love with Olivia all over again, playing uncle—even surrogate dad, in Logan’s absence—to Nick. A world away. A world apart.
“I know he didn’t show it, but Charlie’s happy you’re here,” Piper said.
“When does he sleep?” His partner had always been able to keep going, his work hours even more extreme than Sawyer’s, but this seemed manic—and obviously meant to shut him out.
She shrugged. “Whenever he can, but that’s not only because of his patient load.”
Sawyer heard the unspoken words. Because you weren’t here.
Or worse: Because when he tries to sleep, he only thinks of Khalil.
She absently stroked her stomach, then winced, reminding him of Blossom at the ranch. “I’m being kicked. Again. I doubt this baby will wait much longer to make C.J. a big brother.” He was barely three years old. Sawyer hadn’t seen him playing in the street earlier with a bunch of other kids on his way to the clinic, but according to Piper he was apparently confined to the house. He might not even recognize Sawyer.
He frowned. “Maybe you should get back to the States.”
Her mouth set. “I won’t leave him. Charlie needs me here.” She paused, then said, “He needed you.”
Sawyer tried to suppress another wave of guilt. “Well, I’m here now.” They were much the same words he’d said to Sam at the ranch. He wasn’t leaving—if he did—until the clinic was fully restored and he straightened things out with Charlie.
Piper studied him for another moment. “Olivia?” she said with one eyebrow raised. “Charlie assumed that’s who she is. I can’t believe you brought her to Kedar.”
He half smiled. “I think she brought me.” Yet he should have warned Olivia, better prepared her for what she would find here—no, he should have insisted she stay behind. Maybe he’d simply been buying himself a bit more time with her.
If anything happened to her, Sawyer would never forgive himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
OLIVIA WANDERED ALONG Sitara’s main street, the tiny village nestled in a bowl rimmed by jagged mountains. Unlike in Barren, the dirt path didn’t seem to have a name, or at least there wasn’t a sign, but maybe one wasn’t needed and the simplicity appealed to her. No Olivia Wilson Antiques in gold script here, no shop filled with pricey furniture. With only one street and several short byways dotted with homes, getting lost here would be difficult—unless she left the outskirts of town and ventured into what would be for Olivia a wilderness.
She raised her face to the morning sun, then stopped to watch a group of children kick a half-inflated ball around the little square that was centered by the now-closed village well. She wondered where the people who lived here got their water.
When the ball rolled her way, she returned it to the laughing girls and boys. Their excited chatter and bright faces, their shy gazes, made her happy. Her walk in the warm sunshine had also helped. Olivia couldn’t sleep. Even with the time difference between Kansas and Kedar, there was something else about this new environment that didn’t allow her to keep her eyes shut. Excitement, maybe.
At dawn, she’d heard Sawyer leave the hut and was ready to begin the day herself. Olivia had started out for the clinic to see if she could help, but she wasn’t making much progress.
She joined the kids’ laughter. “What do you call your game?” she asked the children, but no one understood her. That was, until a girl about Ava’s age caught the ball and stopped in front of her. “Gafoun,” she said, then in English, “it means keep-away.”
“Ah. We play that in my country, too. My son does.”
They chatted for a moment in halting phrases about Nick and the little girl’s family and their school before Olivia moved on, having learned everyone’s name. The children were beautiful with dark eyes, silky dark hair and smooth, dusky skin. Olivia felt a pang of homesickness for Nick, but by the time she’d covered the length of the street, stopping to greet and be greeted by a number of women along the way, her spirits had revived. She wouldn’t be here long and she wanted to make the most of her stay. Learn as much as she could.
She had finally neared the clinic when she noticed a small group of women gathered around what appeared to be a makeshift loom. In the increasingly warm day, they were talking, laughing, obviously close to each other as they worked. Olivia stopped again to admire the brilliant colors in the piece they were making, blues and reds and yellows.
“What lovely work,” she said.
One woman, who’d been at the edge of the group, stood and said in English, “They’ve recently formed a cooperative.” Tall, red-haired and slender except for the rise of her stomach, she held out a hand. “You must be Olivia. I’m Piper, Charlie’s wife.”
“I’m—but you already know my name.”
“We’ve heard a lot about you. From Sawyer.” She shied away, though, from that discussion to gesture at the loom. “I was on my way from the clinic to the next village but I just had to stop, see how my friends were doing. The dyes are all natural, plant based. The yarn, handspun, is goat—cashmere—and several of the women do the designs for the rugs. They’re all modeled after traditional patterns handed down for generations.”
“Where do they sell their rugs?”
“It’s a fledgling operation. A few have sold within Kedar and a shop in the capital city carries them now. I’m trying to find a bigger market, to expand.”
Olivia could understand that, yet in the past few days, she’d nearly forgotten about Ted Anderson and his shop or the potential move from Barren before Nick’s school year began.
“Maybe I can help,” she said. “These designs would complement the Western-style accessories people like in my area. And I have a friend there who’s studying to become a decorator.” Jenna Moran, Shadow’s sister, could make great use of the rugs. “She could probably help spread the word, too.” She paused. “Does the group have a website?”
“Not yet. Online would be great, though.” Piper grinned. “We’re open to all s
uggestions.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Hmm. Why don’t you and Sawyer come for dinner tonight? We can talk more then.”
Olivia wasn’t sure that would please Sawyer. How had his reunion with his partner turned out? She hadn’t seen him all morning, but this opportunity to help women in Sitara—and, perhaps, Jenna’s new business—made her feel a part of things.
It was as if, in this tiny village, her whole world had opened up.
Though she missed Nick, she was having the time of her life.
Already, she knew it would be hard to leave.
* * *
IN THE MIDDLE of the night, someone pounded at the door.
With a groan, Sawyer rolled over, awake in an instant as he’d learned to be during his internship and residency. Across the room, Olivia was sleeping, and he didn’t want to wake her.
Sawyer got up and went to the door. “Who is it?”
“Piper.” Her voice shook.
He and Olivia had eaten dinner at her and Charlie’s place. Halfway through their meal, Piper had put little C.J. to bed, still snuffling from his cold and cranky. Sawyer cracked open the door. “The baby?” Piper had thought he was running a slight fever and Sawyer had agreed.
“This baby,” she said, a hand over her stomach.
He stiffened. Charlie hadn’t come home for dinner. Feeling like something of a third wheel, Sawyer had listened to Piper and Olivia talk about a new website for the weavers’ group, their enthusiasm for the project growing. “Charlie’s not back?”
“No, he stayed in the next village overnight. I came home to be with C.J.—and for dinner with you.” Piper grimaced. “I guess it’s just you and me, Doc.” She held her breath. “My pains are pretty regular. Tonight’s the night.”
A shiver ran down his spine. “Piper—”
“I left C.J. with one of my neighbors.” She’d already turned away from the door, expecting him to follow.
Instead, he stood there, feeling as frozen as he had the night Nick fell from the hayloft. In Barren, he’d treated Fred Miller, cured the toddler’s strep throat. But those people were near strangers, and with Olivia’s son he’d hesitated to help. And there was, of course, Khalil... What if he failed now?
Yet he had no choice. Coming back to Kedar had been his first step in finding redemption. He couldn’t run again. Especially not from Piper. From Charlie’s family. He had to act.
Olivia stepped up behind him and put a hand on his back. She seemed far more alert than he felt. Earlier, to his surprise, he’d thought she actually looked comfortable in these surroundings.
“I’m coming.” She was already dressed. “Don’t try to tell me no. I’ve had a child. I know what to expect.”
At the clinic, Sawyer hurriedly scrubbed, then snapped on his gloves. He glanced at Olivia, who was hovering near the door. “You were right,” he said over his shoulder. “You should scrub, too.” He gave her directions. “I may need your help.”
On the makeshift delivery table, Piper looked wan and frightened. She seemed to have anticipated that her baby might come early.
“Have you had contractions before?” Sawyer asked.
Her voice sounded weak. “Off and on,” she admitted.
“Any bleeding?”
Piper hesitated. “Some,” she said.
Sawyer’s gaze sharpened. “When?”
“A few weeks ago. Just...spotting. Remember, I had that with C.J. It stopped on its own.”
He frowned. The light bleeding didn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong, but he didn’t like the sound of this. “That was the only time—this pregnancy?”
“Um, no.” Her face pinched as another contraction began. “Last week. Nothing serious, and again it just...stopped.”
He wanted to groan. “You didn’t tell Charlie,” he guessed.
“Sawyer, you know why I couldn’t. So many people need help.” She didn’t have to say the rest. You weren’t here.
Sawyer moved closer to the table. “Sorry, Piper, but I need to examine you. See what kind of progress we’re making.” Which was awkward, to say the least. His partner’s wife. He silently cursed Charlie for being gone, then realized he probably deserved this. He’d abandoned Charlie first.
His heart sinking, he stepped back a minute later. These hadn’t been harmless Braxton Hicks contractions, a routine rehearsal for childbirth. Piper was roughly halfway to delivery—and the baby’s safe route into the world was blocked.
With a worried glance at him, Olivia stroked Piper’s damp hair from her face.
“What is it?”
Piper asked, “What’s wrong, Sawyer?”
He held her gaze, not wanting to deliver the bad news. “Placenta previa,” he finally said. In most women, the placenta attached to the top or side of the womb, but in some people, it attached instead to the lower part, blocking the birth canal.
“That’s dangerous,” Piper murmured, her eyes wide.
He rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t panic. In your case, from what I can tell, the placenta only partially covers the cervix. You really didn’t know?”
“I’ve had two babies. I thought...or maybe hoped everything was fine.” She tried a smile. “Many women here don’t bother to come to the clinic.”
And some of them don’t survive. But he wasn’t about to say that.
“Charlie didn’t do an ultrasound?”
“Our equipment was destroyed in the slide,” she reminded him.
“But that was only a few months ago, Piper. No regular exams to check on you—the baby?” He couldn’t imagine Charlie being that negligent.
A guilty expression crossed her pale face. Then so did the obvious pain of yet another contraction. She panted through it. “Only in the beginning. Then we were swamped here from dawn till dark. I kept telling him I could wait. Other people were more important. There was time,” she said. “A natural process, I thought.”
“And Charlie bought that? Piper, you should have been on bed rest.”
“I couldn’t stop working. He was already so stressed out...”
Sawyer tried to suppress his own guilt. He hadn’t been here. They’d been grieving. Because of me... “And where did you get your medical degree, Mrs. Banfield?”
She laid a hand over her forehead. “In a cereal box, I guess.”
“Piper.”
“With my marriage license,” she said.
Yet this wasn’t the time to tease or scold. She was frightened.
“Do I need a C-section?”
Sawyer didn’t respond. Ideally, yes, she did, but there could still be room—barely—for the baby, which felt small, to deliver in the usual way, and frankly, he had little choice. He glanced toward the wreckage of the hospital building next door.
To operate on Piper under nonsterile conditions without the right surgical instruments—or anesthesia—at hand would be more than dangerous. He hadn’t even dared to sew up Fred Miller’s arm that day at the Bar B&J. The stakes were higher tonight; two lives were on the line.
“No,” he finally said. “These things happen. I think we’re good.” I sure hope so.
He hadn’t said the last word before Piper moaned through still another contraction. They were coming closer now. And as luck would have it—and the saying went—in the next few hours everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
When Piper reached the last stage of labor and was beginning to push, Sawyer turned away for a second. While his back was to the table, Olivia cried out.
“Sawyer, she’s bleeding!”
He rushed to Piper’s side, apologized for having to hurt her, then applied pressure to her abdomen. And swore. He’d been careful during his brief exam before, as gentle as he could be, but he might have caused some damage. Or the stress of the baby ent
ering the birth canal could have caused the sudden bleeding. Or both. This had been a calculated risk.
He didn’t have time to consider the reasons. His heart pounding, he barked orders at Olivia and tended to Piper. He didn’t have the capability here to deal with any crisis, including one this serious. The ruined ultrasound machine wasn’t the only missing piece of equipment. He had only his hands.
First, do no harm. He prayed he could staunch the flow of blood. If not, both she and the baby could die.
Piper tried not to cry, but she couldn’t keep from pleading.
“Don’t worry about me, Sawyer. Please. Save my baby,” she said.
For an agonizing time, it seemed touch and go, even after the bleeding slowed, then stopped, and Sawyer’s shaky confidence abandoned him.
What if this baby died under his watch? As Khalil had? He would break Piper’s heart, set Charlie against him forever. What if Piper didn’t make it, either? But he kept hearing Sam in his mind, saying, I never thought you were a quitter. Sawyer refused to lose either of them.
When the tiny form was born at last, he called out the sex and time of birth with a shout of joy. To his relief, the baby took a first, sharp breath and began to cry. So did Piper. His eyes wet, too, he passed her baby to Olivia to be weighed, then wrapped in a blanket. And prayed that Piper wouldn’t hemorrhage again, postdelivery.
To help her uterus contract, Sawyer gave her a dose of oxytocin. As the next minutes passed and she remained stable, he gave thanks to a higher power for sparing her and the baby. Then with a hug and more tears all around, he thanked a worn and shaken Olivia. She had followed his every command, at the same time keeping Piper as calm as she could.