Welcome Home, Cowboy

by Karen Templeton

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma said with a little salute. She watched the old woman until she’d disappeared inside the house, then backed out of the driveway, realizing she had four whole hours with nowhere to be, nobody to feed and nothing to pick. Sweet.

  Twenty minutes later, wrapped up in Lee’s old robe, she balanced—precariously—on the edge of the hall bath’s tub, banging loose a clod of ancient, powdered bubble bath, then crumbling it underneath the stream of hot water as it pounded into the old tub. Her eyes closed, she deeply inhaled the gardenia-scented steam. When was the last time she’d had a real bath, instead of her usual in-and-out shower? She couldn’t remember.

  Just in case, she set her cell phone on the toilet seat where she could reach it, shoved The Red One’s paws off the tub’s rim, then dropped the robe. With a blissful sigh, she lowered herself into the bubbles, laughing when suds and water sloshed overboard, sending at least three cats streaking for cover. Not that she could exactly soak—she was far too big and the tub far too small—but it was better than a stick in the eye. And bit by bit, Emma felt her muscles go limp, the warm, soap-slippery water gliding over her undulating belly, like the baby couldn’t wait to break out into a larger pool. She laughed softly, skimming a hand over the slick bulge before drifting into a light doze.

  A few minutes later she awoke with a start, the water chilly and the bubbles mostly gone, regretfully musing how the good things in life never seemed to last long enough. Like ice cream cones. Sex. Warm baths.

  Husbands.

  “And you can get off that road right now,” Emma muttered, hooking one hand over the edge of the tub to hoist herself out.

  Except the one-hand-hoist thing didn’t work so well when your belly’d turned into a forty-pound beach ball. Grunting a little, she tried shifting onto her hip, only to discover the tub seemed a lot narrower than she remembered. And slipperier.

  “Okay, don’t panic,” she said, panicking, as she realized that no matter which way she tried to turn, any number of laws of physics had conspired against her.

  In other words, she was stuck. Naked, hugely pregnant and stuck in a bathtub she’d no business getting into to begin with.

  Yeah, let’s hear it for hindsight, she thought, gazing at the half dozen or so cats who’d wandered in to watch the festivities, each wearing a little kitty smirk on its fuzzy, smug face. The Black Spotted One came over to stand with his paws on the edge of the tub, did a quick take of the situation, then looked at her as if to say, Sucks for you, huh?

  Emma flicked water at the thing, then tried once more to pry herself out. Nothing doing. If anything, she was probably swelling up like a sponge from sitting so long in the water. Realizing there was only one person near enough to help her, she looked at the phone and sighed.

  One day I’ll laugh about this, she thought, and dialed.

  “Emma?” Cash called out when he banged open the front door, fighting Bumble for first right of entry. “Where are you?”

  “Bathroom,” he heard from down the hall. His heart pounding—she’d said she was stuck and couldn’t get up—he raced through the house, Bumble slipping and sliding beside him, only to find himself facing an empty, puddled room, dotted with the occasional cat.

  “Where—?”

  “In here,” she said from behind the quivering, aquarium-themed shower curtain. Bumble trotted over to check, then woofed, like Yep, that’s her all right.

  “You’re in the tub?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Cash paused. “As in—?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh.” His chest started to tickle with the effort not to laugh. “Wow. This is embarrassing.”

  “You’re telling me. And don’t think I didn’t consider staying right here until the baby comes. Are you laughing?”

  “Wouldn’t d-dream of it.”

  “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

  “It might’ve been a while,” Cash said as the chuckle erupted.

  He heard a sigh. “Okay, hand me the robe, I’ll put it on as best I can and then you can help me out of here.”

  Cash scooped up the robe from the floor, threading it behind the edge of the vinyl curtain, where an unseen force snatched it away.

  “And here I thought I was gonna get to see you naked.”

  “You did not just say that.”

  Whoa. Sun must’ve been a lot hotter than he realized. “Apparently, I did.”

  “You’d probably be scarred for life.” The curtain shimmied. “Trust me, this is a lot of naked.”

  “And this would be a problem, why?”

  The metal rings screeched as Emma shoved the curtain back from the bottom. Looking highly chagrined, she sat in the tub with the robe haphazardly wrapped around her, covering the best bits. The dog seemed determined to get in the tub with her. “Because we don’t have that kind of relationship?”

  “We do now.” Cash frowned at her. “How should we do this?”

  “Not sure. Although getting rid of the dog—Bumble, for crying out loud!—might be a good first step.”

  After a good thirty seconds of wrestling with and cussing at a hundred-pound dog determined to guard his mistress, Cash had banished Bumble and approached the tub again, ignoring the periodic WHOMP! as the whining dog tried to break down the door. Then, before he could reconsider or Emma could protest, he stepped in behind her, grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet, after which he stepped back out, handed her a towel and left. Although he—and Bumble—stayed close by. Just in case.

  “You still there?” she called from inside.

  “Hell, yeah. How’re you doing?”

  “Fine. Now.” A pause. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Cash grinned. “You still embarrassed?”

  “Did you see anything you weren’t supposed to?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  Then she laughed. That full, rich laugh that shoved him a little bit further down that road. “And you lie like a rug.”

  He leaned closer to the door and said in a low voice, “And you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about—”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Cash froze. “Em? Everything okay?”

  “Other than the fact that the floor’s even wetter than it was? Sure thing.”

  “I don’t understa—”

  He jumped back when the door wrenched open and Emma plowed past him. “Baby’s coming,” she said, and Cash felt all the blood drain from his face.

  Chapter Eight

  “Now?” he said as Emma disappeared into her bed room.

  “Call Patrice. Her number’s right by the kitchen phone. Oh, shoot—I need somebody to pick up Annie from her art class—”

  “What about the kids?”

  More or less clothed, she zoomed from the room, headed for the kitchen, moving faster than he’d ever seen her. Cash, however, felt nailed to the floor.

  “They’ll be okay, the bus’ll bring ’em home as usual.”

  “Emma?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The baby…did he ever turn around?”

  She appeared at the kitchen doorway, eyes wide, hair wild. “I don’t know, I’ll have to wait until Patrice gets here be-before I know f-for sure. Cripes, there I g-go,” she said, laughing a little. “Soon as my water breaks, I start shaking like a leaf. Happens every time.”

  Then she burst into tears. Crap. He should do something. Make her sit? Boil water? Hold her? But when he tried, she waved him off. “No, it’s okay, I’m fine. You go call Patrice. Then would you mind going into town to get Annie?”

  “No way am I leaving you alone.”

  There. A decision. He could do this.

  She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it. “Okay, we’ll wait for Patty, then you go get Annie. Ohmigosh—” Her floaty, tentlike shirt rippling around her hips, she took off for the living room like a flustered moth, stumbling over Bumble and scattering cats as she snatched magazines and clothe
s off the furniture. “The house is a holy mess. I’d planned on cleaning tomorrow—”

  Cash grabbed her shoulders, steering her toward the sofa. “I’ll straighten up after I call Patrice, you sit—”

  “No,” she said, squirming out of his grasp, “I have to do something, I have to… Whoa, baby,” she said, suddenly grabbing the back of the chair and bending over, blowing out her breath in short pants. A brief Oh, hell moment passed, leaving a surprisingly steady calm in its wake. That they’d all get through this. That Lee would be relieved to know Emma wasn’t alone.

  Almost like he knew what he was doing, Cash leaned beside her, firmly stroking her back, breathing with her. When it was over, she blew out a long breath, then a shaky laugh. “Right now I wish I was a goat.”

  “Right now I wish you were, too,” Cash said, and she laughed again, then looked up at him, so much honesty and trust in her eyes he thought his chest would cave in.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he said, and she smiled.

  “No doubt. But go. Call,” she said, continuing to clean. “If that contraction was anything to go by, this won’t take long.”

  Cash didn’t exactly find that assessment reassuring.

  Even before Patrice met her eyes after the exam, Emma knew.

  “He’s still facing the wrong way?”

  “He’s down too far to tell,” the midwife said, sighing. “I hate to send you to the hospital for an ultrasound to be sure, but I don’t want to take a chance. When was the last contraction?”

  Sitting up, Emma checked the clock. “Nearly ten minutes ago. But it was so strong, I thought…”

  “Sometimes the first one after the water breaks is strong,” Patrice said gently, “but then things get all disorganized for a little while.”

  “Right. I knew that.”

  Patrice squeezed her knee. “Cash went to get Annie?”

  Emma nodded, suddenly missing Lee so much she hurt. Wanting Cash so much she hurt more. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes; Patrice slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “Listen to me—there’s a whole mess of people to get your back. And that Cash is right at the front of the pack.”

  She half laughed. “I hardly think—”

  “And maybe you should stop thinking so much and open your eyes, see what’s right in front of your face. I saw how he looked at you, right before he went out that door.”

  “You mean the scared-out-of-his-wits look?”

  “If he didn’t care he wouldn’t be scared.”

  “And somebody’s been watching way too many chick flicks. Cash is only here out of some sense of obligation to Lee, Patty.”

  “Yeah, well,” the midwife said, getting to her feet, “maybe that’s how it started out, but now I’m betting he sees something he wants—and needs—real bad. And if you ask me—” she went into the bathroom to wash her hands “—the feeling’s mutual—”

  At least that was what Emma thought she said, since another contraction diverted her attention for a minute. Shaking her hands dry, Patrice returned from the bathroom to palm Emma’s stomach.

  “How was it?”

  “Fair,” she said, standing, “Forty-five seconds, maybe a little longer since I missed the start.”

  The front door slammed. Not five seconds later Annie appeared at the doorway, Cash behind her. Her eyes were lit up like a pair of Christmas bulbs, only to dim for a moment when Emma told her the baby probably wouldn’t be born there. Then she brightened again.

  “So I’ll come to the hospital with you!”

  “Then who’s gonna stay with the kids?”

  “Oh, yeah. But that’s okay—I can spoil ’em rotten without you givin’ me the evil eye.”

  Again, tears flooded Emma’s eyes as she pulled Annie into a hug. “I love you so much, old woman, you know that?”

  Annie hugged her back, then released her, her own eyes as wet as Emma’s. “I love you, too, sweet girl. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be in some crappy home eatin’ dried-up pork chops and gray green beans every night.”

  From the doorway, Cash cleared his throat. “Patrice said it’d probably be better if I took you, since my car actually has shocks.”

  It was true. Between Patrice and Emma they probably wouldn’t get a buck-fifty for all three of their vehicles put together—

  “What’s go-ing on?” Hunter asked as he and Zoey crashed through the door. “Why’s Pat-ty’s truck out-side?”

  “The baby’s coming,” Emma said softly. “Cash is going to take me to the hospital—”

  “The hos-pital? No!” Hunter rushed her, grabbing her around the middle. “You said you were gon-na have the baby right here, where we could see him come out!” He lifted distressed eyes to hers. “You promised, no hospital! No hospital!”

  “Sweetie, I didn’t actually promise…” She hissed in a breath between her teeth as another contraction hit, stronger this time. Riding the wave, she breathed through it, holding on to Hunter for support but still in control enough to offer him a half smile. Because while she’d prepared them for witnessing their brother’s birth, she hadn’t prepared them for the possibility that she wouldn’t have the baby at home. Nor had it struck her until this very moment what “going to the hospital” meant to her nearly panicked son.

  Because the last time one of his parents went to the hospital, he didn’t come back.

  Zoey wasn’t sure if the white-hot-scared feeling in the pit of her stomach came from her own brain or from the look in her brother’s eyes. She thought maybe she should say something to make him feel better, especially since Patrice and Granny were busy rubbing Mama’s back while she panted, but what that was, she had no idea.

  So when Cash bent in front of them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders? Boy, was she glad. ’Course, he looked a little worried, too, like maybe he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, either. But soon as he looked in Zoey’s eyes she felt a whole lot better.

  “What your mama’s doing,” he said in a low voice, “it’s exactly like what happened with the goats—”

  “Then why’s she gotta go to the hos-pital?” Hunter whined, holding Zoey’s hand and shaking from head to toe.

  “So they can make sure the baby’s going to come out the right way,” Cash said softly. “Because if he isn’t, it’s not safe for her to have him here—”

  “So if she goes to the hos-pital, they can fix it?” Hunter said, but almost before Cash could say, “Yes,” Hunter shook his head, hard, and said, “That’s what Ma-ma said when they took Daddy there. That they could fix him. On-ly they didn’t. And he died.”

  Zoey was trying to be brave, she really was, but Hunter’s saying that made the bad feeling get all burny, like right before you throw up. She didn’t, but she started shaking, too. And crying. Like some dumb baby.

  “Hey, hey, hey…” Cash said, squatting in front of them now and speaking in a real soft voice. Then he reached behind him for the box of tissues on the end table so they could each get one. “Your daddy was sick. Sicker than anybody knew. He didn’t die because he went to the hospital, he died because his heart was too busted up for them to fix.

  “But that’s not what’s going on with your mama. Remember when I had to help Sweet Pea get her baby out? Your mama’s going where they have more people who can help her and the baby—”

  “I wanna go, too!” Zoey said, wiping away the snot. “I wanna be there when the baby’s born!”

  “Me, too—”

  “You can’t, sugars,” Mama said, coming to sit on the sofa in front of them. Zoey had been so busy crying and stuff she hadn’t noticed that Mama had finished getting dressed and braided her hair, like she was fixing to go to the store or something instead of the hospital. She was smiling, too, her eyes all bright, like she was excited. “Not yet, anyway,” she said, grabbing both Zoey’s and Hunter’s hands. “Not until… not until we know how this is all gonna play out. Besides, if you guys come with me, who’s gonna feed the goat
s?”

  Zoey’d forgotten about the goats. “Can we give them a cook-ie?” Hunter asked.

  “One each,” Mama said, trying to sound stern. “No more.”

  Then a little lightbulb flashed in Zoey’s brain. “If you’re not back by tomorrow, do we hafta go to school?”

  Now Mama laughed right out loud, and Zoey remembered that when Daddy had gone to the hospital, Mama had definitely not been laughing. “No. Tomorrow is definitely a school holiday. So. Are we good?”

  Zoey nodded so hard she thought her head might come off. Hunter didn’t look so sure, though. Zoey guessed he didn’t remember about Mama not laughing before. But before she could say something, Cash hugged Hunter real hard, then looked right at him and said, “Everything’s gonna be fine, big guy. I swear.” Then he looked over at Mama with a funny look on his face, and another lightbulb went off, that Cash loved them. Mama and Hunter and her and Granny…all of them.

  Even if he didn’t know it yet.

  Cash took Emma’s silence on the way to the hospital to mean one of two things: either she was concentrating real hard on having this baby, or she was pissed at him for saying what he had to the kids. Or both. And, yes, pondering that took his mind off the fact that he was driving a woman in labor to the hospital. Crazy.

  “Is it okay to talk?” he finally asked.

  “And take my mind off what’s about to happen?” Emma said with a little laugh. “You bet.” She looked over. “What’s up?”

  “I probably shouldn’t’ve promised the kids everything would be okay. Not that I don’t think it will be,” he quickly added, “but promises are courting trouble.”

  “I know,” she said on a sigh. “But I don’t want them to spend their childhood thinking the boogeyman is lurking in every corner either, that they can’t trust happiness. I want them to believe there’s more good in life than bad. And yet…”

  She tugged her long braid around, toying with the feathery end. “It tears me up that I can’t give them back their innocence. That I can’t promise that the baby and I will be fine.”