“When it snows this much, it gets too deep for them to walk, much less find anything to eat. And the only access we have into the canyon is by horseback, so we can’t haul hay and feed to them.”
“I see. So do you have the cattle settled where you need them now?”
“Finally. So I mentioned to Rafe that I wanted to make a quick trip into town to see you this morning. He practically pushed me out of the barn.” His grin was sly. “I think he and Lilly like the idea of us being together.”
Yes, Lilly and Rafe had done some matchmaking, Marcella thought. What were those two going to think when they heard what their matchmaking had produced?
Forget about Lilly and Rafe’s reaction. It’s Denver’s response that you need to be thinking about. So just tell him and get it over with. He’ll either be happy or he won’t. Either way it’s time you dealt with it.
Shutting out the taunting voice in her head, she said, “I’m glad he could spare you. I’ve been wanting to talk with you and it’s not something I wanted to get into over the phone.”
“I’ve been wanting to talk with you, too,” he said. “The Silver Horn is already getting decked out for Christmas and I’ve been thinking about Harry and Peter. They told me you always decorate with a Christmas tree. Is that right?”
“Yes. I usually have one up by now. But things have been...a little hectic here lately.”
“I’m glad you haven’t gotten around to doing a tree yet. I wanted to see if you and the boys would like to come out to the ranch this weekend and we’ll walk up the mountain behind the house. The boys can pick out the perfect tree and I’ll cut it down and haul it here to the house for you. Or we can put it up in my house. It doesn’t matter to me. As long as the four of us are together.”
Her heart was suddenly bursting with emotion, and though the words I love you were on the tip of her tongue, begging to be released, she bit them back and drew in a long, bracing breath.
“It sounds wonderful, Denver. Yes, the four of us together. That’s what I want, too. And the boys will be jumping up and down with excitement when I tell them.”
“Great. Then I’ll supply the tree if you can come up with the decorations.”
“I have plenty of those stored away,” she assured him. “And whether we put it here or in your house, we’ll make it the most beautiful tree ever.”
He kissed her forehead again, then pulled his head back far enough to look at her. “Okay, we have that settled. So what did you want to talk to me about? Are the boys okay? Peter’s asthma hasn’t been acting up, has it?”
“No, the boys are good. And Peter’s latest checkup with the doctor was an A-plus. It’s not about them—exactly,” she said, then glanced blindly down at the blanket covering their naked bodies. Telling him she was going to have his baby shouldn’t be this hard, Marcella thought. This should be a happy, joyous announcement. Instead, uncertainty was chilling her to the point that she was close to shivering.
“Then what is it about?” he asked, his voice suddenly growing cautious. “Has something happened at the hospital? Something about your work?”
“No. I mean, something did happen—to me—at the hospital. Last night, to be exact. I had a dizzy spell and Dr. Sherman ended up giving me an examination and sending a sample of my blood to the lab.”
Suddenly he was pressing her back against the mattress and his face was hovering over hers. Stark fear was in his eyes, and Marcella realized he was probably thinking back to his late wife’s health problems.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Are you trying to tell me you have some sort of blood disease? Is that what those tears were about earlier?”
Her head twisted back and forth upon the pillow. “No. I don’t have any sort of disease. I’m...going to have a baby.”
A stunned look washed over his face, and then he fell limply onto his back to stare silently up at the ceiling.
Marcella watched him for a moment, and then as the disappointment in her heart became too heavy to bear, she threw back the covers and reached for her clothes.
Chapter Eleven
“Where are you going?”
Marcella had just finished dressing and was starting out of the bedroom when Denver finally spoke. She turned back to him, her blood simmering with anger and pain.
“To the kitchen. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
He rised up to a sitting position and stared at her in stunned fascination, which only made Marcella even angrier. Up until five minutes ago, she would have sworn he was a caring, sensitive man. But that description had gone up in smoke the moment she’d said the word baby.
“You mean you can think about eating at a time like this?”
“I can not only think about it. I can do it,” she said bluntly, then walked out of the bedroom before he could add anything else.
She was in the kitchen brewing coffee and whisking eggs when he finally entered the room. Fully dressed, he tossed his hat onto the table and pulled out a chair.
As he sat down, Marcella tried to ignore the iron set of his jaw. “Would you like some eggs and toast?” she asked politely.
“No. I’d like to know what happened.”
Resisting the urge to slam the whisk onto the cabinet counter, she placed it on a paper towel and walked over to him.
“Since you want to be crass and rude about this, I can be, too. So you’re a big boy. You know what happened. We had sex. A baby was conceived.”
His brows shot up. “And whose fault was that?” he demanded. “You assured me your birth control was safe. I trusted you!”
“I believed my birth control was adequate. But things happen. If you think I’m going to apologize for this baby, you’re cracked in the head. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a little miracle. As for you—well, you’re a big disappointment, that’s all.”
He was suddenly sneering, and Marcella felt as though she was looking at a stranger instead of the man she loved.
“Things happen,” he repeated mockingly. “Like tossing a pill into the trash instead of your mouth?”
Marcella had to literally clench her hands together to keep from slapping him. Dear God, she was a nurse who’d spent years soothing wounds. But at this very moment she actually wanted to inflict physical pain on another human being. The realization was proof of just how low he’d caused her emotions to sink.
“You honestly think I would do something that deceitful?” she asked, her voice vibrating with anger and disbelief.
“I’ve already had one woman do it to me. Why not you, too? You’ve already admitted how much you wanted more babies.”
“Yes! With the right man. And I’m beginning to see that you’re far from being the right one!”
In spite of her effort to control it, her voice was rising with each word. Blood was pounding inside her head, roaring in her ears. Never had she felt this furious at anyone or anything.
The accusing tone in his voice continued. “It’s rather late to be drawing that opinion of me now, don’t you think?”
“Late? Looks to me like I saw the real you just in the nick of time.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, Marcella, I explained everything to you about Christa. From the very beginning you knew I didn’t want anything to do with pregnancy or babies.”
“That’s right. But I was foolish enough to let you crawl into my bed anyway.” She shoved a wave of tangled red hair off her face and stared at him, her eyes blazing. “Because I had the stupid idea you might begin to care for me. Really care. That you would change your mind about babies and having a family.”
When he failed to make a response, she let out a harsh laugh and marched back over to the cabinet. Picking up the whisk, she gave the eggs another vicious stir.
“Don’t worry, Denver. You’re off the
hook. Actually, now that I think of it, you never were on the hook. Because deep down I had the feeling you were going to react like this.” The look she shot him was sharp enough to bore through granite. “I’ve been a single mother of two sons for a long time. It doesn’t scare me to be a single mother of three children. And as far as I’m concerned, I’ll be the happiest woman alive if I never see your face again. So get the hell out of my house!”
His hard expression swiftly turned to one of utter disbelief. “Is that how you really feel?”
Feel? She wanted to scream at him. How did he expect her to feel anything? In the past few minutes he’d stomped her emotions into nothing more than a quivering heap.
Turning her back to him, she said numbly, “It’s exactly how I feel.”
He said nothing, and a few seconds later she heard the scrape of his chair and then his footsteps leaving the kitchen. When the sound of the front door opening and closing finally reached her, she allowed herself to breathe again. And her tears to fall.
* * *
The following week passed in a weary daze for Marcella. At work she did her best to focus on her job. Tending the needy patients who entered the ER helped to keep her mind off Denver. At least the sick and injured needed and appreciated her care. That was more than she could say about him.
What do you expect, Marcella? Denver never told you he loved you. You were expecting things from him that were never going to happen. His talk about missing you and spending Christmas with you was nothing more than sweet talk. Nothing more than a man saying the right things just to give his sex partner enough hope to keep her hanging on.
The bitter voice going on in Marcella’s head very nearly drowned out Paige’s as the two women sat at a table in the hospital cafeteria.
“Marcella, you’re not eating. Are you nauseated?”
She glanced down at the bowl of stew on her tray. “No. I’m okay.”
“If you’re so okay, why aren’t you eating? You of all people know how important nutrition is for the first few weeks of an embryo’s life. So eat up and feed the little guy!” she ordered.
Smiling wanly, Marcella straightened her slumped shoulders and dipped into the stew. “How do you know the baby is a boy?”
“All right, so feed the little girl and quit mooning over that cowboy. Why would you even want a man who left you as soon as you told him you were pregnant? He’s obviously a first-class jerk!”
“He didn’t leave, Paige,” Marcella corrected her friend. “I ordered him out of the house and out of my life.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said between bites of a tuna fish sandwich. “Either way, he’s gone. No flowers or words of comfort. No promises to be there for you and the little one. Creep. You need to mark a big X on his face and move on.”
Even though Paige was right, it was impossible to push Denver out of her heart and go on with her life. His baby was growing inside her. And she had no idea what that might mean for her and the baby’s future. In spite of the asinine way he’d reacted to the news of her pregnancy, she had no doubt he was a responsible man. Otherwise, the Calhouns would’ve never gathered him to the bosom of their family and kept him there for twelve long years. Knowing that, she feared that sooner or later he might demand his fatherly rights to the child. And then what? It would be unbearably painful to share a child with a man who didn’t love her.
“Paige, it’s not that simple. Denver is the father. I can’t block him out of the baby’s life. Not if he decides he wants to be a father. It wouldn’t be fair to him or the child.”
Paige’s lips pursed with disgust. “You’re far nicer than I could ever be. I wouldn’t give my ex the time of day. Much less anything else.”
“It’s easy for you to say that, Paige. You don’t have children to consider.”
“Thank God Larry and I didn’t have kids,” she muttered, then in a gentler tone asked, “Have you told Harry and Peter about the baby yet?”
Shaking her head, Marcella put down her spoon. “No. I need to take a little time to decide how best to explain everything. As much as a mother can explain to boys ten and eleven years old. The boys understand there are families without a daddy in the house. That’s the only kind of life the three of us have had. But nothing about it is going to be easy.” She let out a long breath and rubbed her fingertips against her burning eyelids. “Telling them at Christmas might be best. I can present the news to them as a gift.”
Her expression tender, Paige reached over and squeezed Marcella’s fingers. “The baby is a gift. No matter about Denver. Just focus on that.”
“Believe me, Paige, that’s the one thing that’s holding me together.” She picked up her spoon and tried to renew her interest in the stew. “Last night I sat Harry and Peter down and tried to explain about Denver and why he won’t be in our lives anymore.”
“Oh my. You’ve told me how close they’ve grown to Denver. That must’ve been rough.”
Marcella’s throat closed around the lump of potato she’d tried to swallow. She’d never seen her children more hurt and crestfallen. And it was her fault. All her fault for reaching for a love that could never be.
“It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Peter started crying—you know how sensitive he is. Harry thinks he has to be the strong brother because he’s older. So he set his jaw and went quiet. Too quiet.” Sighing heavily, she leaned back in the plastic chair. “I hate that I’ve done this to them, Paige. And even worse, with Christmas coming. I want the boys to have a happy holiday.”
“Aww, Peter and Harry will have a happy Christmas. They’ll be thrilled about getting a new brother or sister. And as the days pass they’ll hopefully start forgetting about Denver.”
Marcella gave her a weary smile. “You’re an optimist, my dear friend.”
“Right. I’m optimistic that you’ll soon find a real man who will appreciate you and treat you with love and respect. And I happen to know the perfect one,” she added slyly. “He has an office upstairs.”
Seeing where her friend’s well-meaning advice was headed, Marcella groaned and shoved away the tray. “Please don’t start in about Dr. Whitehorse again. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s good-looking. But at this point I don’t think I’ll ever want another man in my life. Anyway, I’m pregnant.”
Paige chewed the last bite of her sandwich, then shot her a knowing smile. “If a man really loved you, that would hardly stop him.”
Yes, Marcella thought dourly, that was the whole problem. If Denver had really loved her, he would have been thrilled when she told him about the baby. He would’ve taken her in his arms and talked about their future together and vowed to always cherish and protect them. Instead, she’d gotten cold stares and angry accusations. The reality still sliced her with heavy pain.
Marcella reached for her handbag. “If you’re finished, we need to be getting back. Helen is probably watching the clock.”
Paige gathered the remnants of her meal and piled them on a tray. “You haven’t noticed? Esther is filling in for Helen tonight. Helen has gone over to California for the weekend to celebrate an early Christmas with her son.”
Helen, the iron lady, had been head nurse at Tahoe General ER for more years than Marcella could count. On her best days the woman was approachable; otherwise, she was a taskmaster. Yet all the nurses loved her. Because everyone could see that beneath her outward armor, she was as soft as a down pillow and somehow just as comforting. Marcella was certain that when Helen learned of her pregnancy, the veteran nurse would be the first to offer an encouraging word or helping hand.
“Well, I’m glad someone is having fun,” Marcella said. “When does ours start?”
The two women rose to their feet, and with a little laugh, Paige curled an arm around the back of Marcella’s waist. “It starts with our very next patient.”
* * *
Later that evening on the Silver Horn, Denver stood in the office he shared with Rafe and stared out the dusty window at the twilight settling over the ranch yard. Except for a few cowboys checking water troughs and spreading hay in the holding pens, most of the men had quit for the day. To the far right, he could see smoke spiraling from the chimney in the bunkhouse. Inside the big log structure, the men would be shedding their heavy outerwear and hanging up their spurs and chaps. James, the bunkhouse cook, would be getting ready to dish up a hearty meal. Something with meat and potatoes and a rich dessert. Down the long pine table there would be plenty of conversation with jokes and laughter.
In many ways, Denver envied those men. None of them had to go home to an empty house or stare at the shadows on the wall and wonder how things might’ve been. Those men had chosen to be free of worries over a woman, or kids, or holding a family together. Yet he doubted most of them had ever experienced the incredible joy Marcella had given him for a few short weeks.
That morning after she’d told him she was pregnant, Denver had somehow gotten back to the ranch in one piece. But he didn’t remember leaving her house, driving the thirty-five miles or anything else that might have happened in between. Shock must have caused him to have some sort of mental blackout. At least, he’d put the lack of consciousness down to that reason. Several days had passed before the haze had finally worn off enough for him to recall what the two of them had actually said to each other.
If I never see your face again, I’ll be a happy woman.
Marcella’s words continued to haunt him, and whether he died tomorrow or fifty years from now, he’d still remember the icy fury on her face when she’d said them.
What do you expect, Denver? You behaved like a complete swine. You never once thought about Marcella or her feelings. All you were concerned about was yourself and how you’d been wronged. You don’t deserve a woman like her. And you certainly don’t deserve a baby. So it’s just as well she sent you packing.
The sound of the door opening and closing had Denver turning away from the window to see Rafe entering the office. A black woolen muffler was tied around his neck to block out any cold that might escape past the neck of his brown canvas coat. His face was pinched and red from the cold wind, but there was a cheery smile on his face. The sight of it grated on Denver’s raw nerves. Why did his best buddy in the world get to be so happy, while Denver was so downright miserable?
The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby Page 15