“I do.” Jeff smiled at the memory of coming home and finding Mags asleep at the oddest hours of the day. “And when you hit the third trimester, you couldn’t sleep at all. The three months in the middle were almost normal, though.”
She didn’t respond to that, and he sensed she was about to make an excuse to hang up.
“I talked to Russ yesterday,” he said.
“Yeah, me, too.” Another yawn. “Sounds like calculus is kicking his ass.”
“I told him to get a tutor or sign up for a study group.” Parenting advice didn’t count as being overbearing, did it? Parents were supposed to tell their kids what to do. He held his breath, waiting for her response.
“And I told him he should stay in more and study, and go out less. The thing is, high school was easy for him. He’s never had to study, and doesn’t even know how to, really. A study group would be good for him.”
His breath eased out at her words of agreement, followed by another long pause. “He said Eli and Rosemary made it to the Grand Canyon and are having a great time.”
“Yeah. At first, I thought Dad had lost his mind, but Mom sounds like a different person on the phone. It’s been a good thing for both of them, I think.”
“All couples can benefit from having time alone, away from everything,” he said gently, prodding her to talk about their situation.
She gave a loud sigh. “Oh, Lord, please don’t let her come home pregnant.”
Jeff chuckled, hoping she was kidding and not making commentary about herself. The thought sobered him. Just because their last time together didn’t go well...that wouldn’t cause her to...? His heart stalled. “You’re still okay with this, aren’t you, Mags? This pregnancy?”
“No regrets, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m really tired, and I do need to go to bed.”
Because ignoring her not-so-subtle hint might be construed as overbearing, he gave up on any more attempts to keep her on the line. “I understand. Get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.” Which meant the next time he called her. She hadn’t called him since her visit, which was frustrating if he thought about it too much.
“Okay. Bye.”
“See you soo—”
He tossed his phone onto the stack of papers and rested his forehead on his thumbs, pressing into the soreness that seemed to be a permanent fixture these days. A month ago, he was so sure he and Mags were headed toward reconciliation. Now they were hurtling backward at a speed so fast it was difficult to keep his bearings.
Just keep focused on the baby. She’s the key.
For some reason, he’d started referring to the baby as a girl. Maybe it was intuition and maybe just wishful thinking. But whether the baby was a he or a she, the child gave him and Mags a reason to be together, and he was determined to give all he had to making that time together count.
He ran his fingertips over the word he’d written on his calendar across the third week of November—Russ. He’d started to put and Mags, but he didn’t want his dad asking questions when he came to fill in at the dealership.
Anyway, he didn’t have to write her name on his calendar. It was written on his heart.
And if all went well, maybe he wouldn’t have to ever write the baby’s name on a calendar.
Maybe they could find a way for them all to be together...maybe he could make a way.
If all went well.
* * *
IF ELI’S HEART can take this, it can take anything, Rosemary decided, because right at that moment hers was so filled with awe and wonder it proved impossible for it to keep a steady rhythm. It had been that way for the past two days, ever since their arrival at the Grand Canyon.
She’d been given a glimpse of a whole new world.
The idea that the seemingly innocuous river at the bottom of the canyon had cut through and eroded away the land until a gorge so expansive had been created was almost more than her mind could grasp. Time after time since their arrival, they’d returned to the overlook, drawn by the majestic view.
But it wasn’t the canyon alone that had her heart thrumming. It was the helicopter tour through the canyon this morning—a ride so terrifyingly exciting she’d had to breathe into a paper sack to combat hyperventilation. It was the drumbeat of the Native American dancers they’d watched this afternoon still pulsing through her veins. It was the stirring sensations she’d felt this evening while watching the IMAX movie.
Now, it was Eli’s easy laugh beside her and the happy gleam in his eyes that shimmered in the campfire light.
“Careful. It’s hot.” He dangled the straightened clothes hanger over her lap, and she gingerly slid the marshmallow—toasted to a yummy, golden perfection—off the end and popped it into her mouth.
Was there anything more delicious...well, except for the man himself? The old, familiar stirring deep in her belly was even more pleasant than the sweetness that filled her mouth.
“No more for me.” She lifted the half-empty bag of marshmallows from the seat beside her.
Eli stuck the end of the wire back into the fire to burn off the last remains. “I’m done, too.”
The smell of burnt sugar filled her nostrils and settled on her tongue, reminding her of the caramel pie filling she used to make every Sunday—the one where she caramelized the sugar in a cast-iron skillet. “Think I’ll make a pie tomorrow.” She stretched out her legs to warm her feet.
Eli shook his head in mock amazement. “I’ll swear, Rosie. You’ve taken to this motorhome living like a duck to water.” He paused, then pointed to the large rig parked in the next site over. “Talked to Pete a long time today about full-timing. He said it was a tough decision, but one they’ve never regretted.”
Rosemary thought about the prospect of selling the house and moving into the RV full-time—a daunting idea but one that certainly held some appeal. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I love this. All of it.” She waved toward their coach and then took in the campfire and the rest of their surroundings. “I love the comfort of the coach and the thrill of seeing new places.” She reached over and patted his hand. “I love you.” Then she took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh, clean scent of the cedar burning in the fire pit. “If it weren’t for Maggie, I believe I could sell the house and do this year-round.”
“We could sell the house, but not the shop.” The uncommonly serious tone to Eli’s voice grabbed her full attention. “The shop’s insulated and has running water. Make a small living quarters in it, like maybe a living room and a bathroom, but include space big enough to pull the rig in. That way, we could travel most of the year, but go back to Taylor’s Grove when we wanted to, like through the holidays. Lots of people our age are doing that now.”
“Lots of people our age don’t have a daughter living nearby whose husband died and whose son just went away to college, leaving her alone...and lonely.”
Eli’s bottom lip protruded in thought. “Maybe she’d look harder—put herself out there more—if we weren’t such a handy time-filler for her.”
The gladness that had filled Rosemary’s heart so thoroughly a few minutes before started to seep out along with her deepest fear. “I’m afraid she’d turn to Jeff.”
Eli’s gaze met hers and held fast. “Maybe she needs to.”
His words were like a spark from the campfire that had made its way into her stomach. “How can you say that? You and I witnessed firsthand what she went through after he left. It was worse than withdrawal from a drug.”
“So maybe that’s when we should’ve realized he was ingrained in her soul. Maybe that was our failure—not encouraging them to try and work it out. We took her side. Blamed him. Made her feel like she had every right to walk away, and maybe we were wrong. Maybe we were too much in her life and maybe we still are. Maybe if we weren’t there she’d finally figure out
what she really needs...and who.”
“What’s brought on this change of heart, Eli?”
His mouth twitched at her word choice and he gave her his you know the answer to that look. But then his face turned somber and reflective. “I was looking death in the face, Rosie, but I was too blind to see it. Got me to thinking about all the other things I was blind to. The love that beams from Russ when he talks about his dad? I’ve seen that same love reflected in Maggie’s eyes every time the man’s name comes up. Yeah, it’s shadowed by pain. But it’s right there plain as day if you’re open to seeing it.” His voice had become more vehement, more passionate than Rosemary had heard in years. While she didn’t agree with his logic, it stirred her just the same. And when he reached out and took her hand and said, “You’re ingrained in my soul, Rosie. It’s you I really need...” she was a goner.
She stood and tilted her head toward the coach. “Maybe we need to go in and christen that bed good and proper.”
He was on his feet in a flash, pulling her into a kiss that caused the burn in her belly to explode into full flame. “You go on,” he said when their mouths finally parted. “I’ll put out the fire.”
“Don’t you dare.” She gave a low laugh. “This is going to be fast and furious, and I’m probably gonna need a few more marshmallows afterward to get my energy back.”
His grin was wary. “You’re not afraid of killing me?”
She shrugged in resignation. “Guess if I do, you’ll die happy.”
“A man can’t ask for more than that.”
He clapped his hands to her rear end and pulled her to him once again. The campfire heated her backside, and Eli heated her front.
He was toasting her like he had the marshmallows—to hot and yummy perfection.
* * *
“AND THEN HE SAID, ‘This isn’t moonshine. Moonshine’s clear. And if you pour some out on the ground and throw a match to it, it burns blue, like your eyes.’” Emmy was in the middle of one of her many tales—standard fare for Rowdy Friday—the once-a-month get-together with anyone from the salon who wanted to get out and have some fun to kick off the weekend.
Maggie shifted in her seat, trying to stretch her back muscles, which were still aching from standing all day and then sitting in the hard restaurant chair for several hours now. She hoped this story didn’t have too funny a punch line. Her stomach was cramping from laughing at all of Emmy’s wild stories.
“So, I just smile at him and bat my eyes real flirty,” Emmy continued. “And I say, ‘Well, this is the way we make moonshine in Kentucky. It’s sweet and spicy, just like our women, and no one would dare pour any on the ground because it would be a sin to waste a drop of it. But if it burned, it would burn black and blue, just like your eyes are gonna be if you don’t get your hand off my ass.’”
The group gave a collective squeal at Emmy’s sassiness.
“Did he move it?” Bev asked. “Or did you have to teach him a lesson?”
“Oh, he moved it all right.” Emmy glanced coyly about the room. “But I ended up teaching him a few lessons later on, anyway.” She grinned around the straw she’d been chewing on. “Course, he taught me a few, too.”
“You always get your man, EmmyLou.” An eye roll accompanied Janessa’s snarl. “Or, at least, in your telling of it you do.”
Generally, the people who worked at the salon got along well. But Janessa and her boyfriend had broken up last week, and she was still tender, evidenced by the fact she hogged the conversation for forty-five minutes, slamming him and the woman he’d broken up with her for. Everybody had been supportive and let her vent. But Rowdy Friday’s were supposed to be fun, not downers. The group had shown a definite upswing in attitude once Emmy took the floor.
“If I don’t get him, I didn’t want him.” Emmy’s perfect eyebrow arched to a point as she leaned across the table toward Janessa. “Men are like shoes. Why waste your time on the ones that hurt when you could be out shopping for the ones that fit just right?”
Maggie winced. The advice was solid, but if Janessa started in on another of her monologues, Maggie’s rear was going to go completely numb.
Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. During this last exchange, Eppie had sent a text and Tink had immediately received one. Interesting, since they rode together.
Sure enough, just as Janessa said, “But—” Tink interrupted. “Hey, y’all. It’s been fun, but I need to get home. I’ve got a pair of comfy shoes I’m hankering to slip on.” She flashed a big grin Emmy’s way.
“Me, too,” a couple of others agreed, and the group dispersed with hugs.
“You ready?” Emmy asked. She was going to drop Maggie off at the salon to get her car.
Maggie pointed toward the ladies’ room. “Gotta make a pit stop first.”
“Meet you out front.” Emmy hurried to catch up with Janessa, probably with a few last words of wisdom to impart.
All the talk of boyfriends and husbands, and especially Emmy’s last analogy, had pushed Jeff to the front of Maggie’s mind, a place he was never too far from. Being with him made her feel as if she was wearing platform stilettos—surprisingly comfortable, dangerously high and sexy, but they put her in a constant state of terror that she’d lose her balance and fall.
As she opened the restroom door, a warmth gushed from her, and her first thought was she’d started her period. A split second later, it hit her she shouldn’t be having a period.
She rushed into the stall. “No. Please, please, please,” she whispered as panic squeezed her insides. The sight of blood in her panties caused the world to spin around her. She leaned against the door, holding onto the hook she’d normally use for her purse, trying to wrap her brain around a plan of action when it was yanking her in other directions.
It might be nothing. I’ve been on my feet too long today. Get to my car and call Dr. Donovan.
She donned a pad from the machine on the wall and pinched her cheeks to bring some color to her deathly pale complexion then went to meet Emmy.
“Wow.” Emmy was leaning on her car, and she glanced at her watch. “You must’ve met somebody and had a quickie.”
Maggie forced a smile. “It’s not Veterans Day yet.” Buckling into the passenger seat, she focused on calm breaths.
Emmy’s mouth was moving ninety-to-nothing about Janessa’s situation, and Maggie managed to get through the short distance by only adding an occasional “Uh-huh” or “I know” in response. She’d said her “See you tomorrow” by the time Emmy’s car pulled to a stop beside hers.
She opened the door and stepped out as a searing pain shot through her back. “Oh!” The next one gripped her from the front, doubling her over. She threw out a hand and caught herself on the seat on the way down.
“Maggie! What’s wrong?”
“Help me.” She ground out the words through the pain.
Emmy flew around the car and lifted her into the seat. “You having appendicitis? What is it? I’m taking you to the hospital.” She fumbled, trying to get the seat belt over Maggie’s hunched body. “Oh, to hell with this thing.”
Still slumped in nauseating pain, Maggie pointed to her purse as Emmy got back in the car. “Get my phone and call Dr. Donovan. Tell her I think I’m having a mis-miscarriage.” A sob accompanied the word.
Emmy’s startled look spoke volumes, but she calmly did as she’d been instructed. Maggie recognized the pain, so similar to labor, and used the breathing techniques she’d learned when she was pregnant with Russ.
“Bleeding and cramping?” Emmy asked, her voice gentle as she held Maggie’s hand firmly. Maggie nodded, and Emmy made the confirmation back into the phone. “Okay,” she said before hanging up. “She’s meeting us at the hospital.”
Maggie tried to control her crying, knowing the tension only made
things worse. But the whimpers kept escaping.
Emmy rubbed her back with one hand, trying to console her. “It’s going to be okay, Maggie Russell Wells Gunther Russell. Just hang on. Everything will be okay.”
Maggie shook her head. “It’s not going to be okay, Emmy. I’m losing Jeff’s baby.” A gut-wrenching spasm shook her body, loosening the sobs lodged in her throat.
She cried all the way to the emergency room.
* * *
“DAMN!”
Jeff reached for his phone with one hand and the remote with the other, keeping his eyes glued on the TV as the Charger quarterback made his run down the field with the ball and a Rams player in hot pursuit.
“Run!” His voice echoed back to him as he hit the mute button. Reluctantly, he paused the game. He’d waited too long for the Chargers to score in this game, and he wasn’t about to miss it now.
The piano arpeggio ring tone got louder as it made its second loop. At the last second, he looked at the caller ID and answered with a surprised smile.
“Mags!”
“Um...oh...no, Jeff. This isn’t Maggie. It’s EmmyLou Creighton. I’m using Maggie’s phone.”
“Hey, EmmyLou.” Emmy’s voice didn’t hold its usual energy. In fact, was it shaking? And why was she calling from Maggie’s phone? The thoughts shot through his brain in a split second and brought him out of his seat. “Is Mags okay?”
His heart stalled at the sniffle on the other end.
“Tell me, damn it! What’s happened to her?”
“She’s...she’s okay. She’s sleeping.”
The hand Jeff wiped down his face left a sweaty trail. If this was one of those high-school throwback best friend calls, Miss EmmyLou was about to—
“It’s the baby, Jeff. She...lost the baby.” Her voice ruptured on a sob as his knees gave way, and he landed back in the chair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
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