“I admire what you do. I never was much good with words. Never been the creative type.”
“That’s not true, Buck. I saw one of your saddles awhile back. It was beautiful.”
“Making saddles keeps the winters from feeling too long.” He shrugged away the compliment, pretending it didn’t please him, though it did. “What you do is different. Takes brains to be a writer.”
“You were a good student back in high school. Didn’t you get a scholarship to college?”
“For sports. Not for academics. I about killed myself for every A that I got in high school.” He shrugged. “Didn’t make any difference since I never went on to college.”
“Why didn’t you go? I thought you would.”
“Just didn’t work out.” He motioned with his head toward the pasture. “You’d better have that ride.”
After a brief silence, Charity said, “Okay. I won’t be long.”
“Take as long as you want. I’ll be fine. It’s not too hot. Feels good to be outside.”
With a nod, she stepped around him. After retrieving the key from inside the back door, she walked toward the tack shed. Cocoa sat up, glanced from her mistress to Buck, then lay down again.
CHARITY’S HORSEBACK RIDE THAT MORNING DID more for improving her outlook than she’d expected. She didn’t even mind that Cocoa chose to stay with Buck. Well, maybe she minded a little.
The traitor.
Grinning at the thought, she rode the black gelding back toward the pasture gate. When she glanced in the direction of the patio, Buck raised his left hand in silent acknowledgment that he’d seen and been seen. Both he and the dog were exactly where they’d been when she rode away more than an hour before. She’d intended to ride about thirty minutes, tops, but once in the saddle she’d had a hard time turning the horse around.
With swift efficiency, she unsaddled the gelding, brushed him, and turned him out with the other horses. She was still smiling as she strode toward the patio.
Buck shaded his eyes. “Looks good on you.”
“What does?” She stopped before his chair.
“Not sure. Like there’s a new lift in your walk. Less weight on your shoulders.”
Charity wasn’t sure she liked Buck’s ability to read her so easily.
He grinned. “Maybe it’s those fancy new boots of yours that make the difference.”
She glanced down at her feet. They were new boots—bought for fashion rather than riding—but they didn’t look new at the moment, covered in dust, tiny flecks of hay and grass, and perhaps a little horse manure.
Before she could answer, he spoke again. “Maybe it’s time for me to go back inside. I think I got enough sun for today. Should’ve grabbed my hat on the way out.”
“Of course.” Come to think of it, his forehead and nose did look a bit red. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ridden for so long.”
“Nah. Don’t feel bad. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His smile said he meant it.
The heroes in romance novels must do that too. Say the right words and then punctuate them with a smile. And maybe the heroines felt that same little shiver of pleasure that had run up her spine.
Uh-oh.
She reached for the crutch and in no time at all had Buck safely up the few steps and into the house.
Chapter 8
CHARITY PRESSED HER FOREHEAD AGAINST THE gelding’s neck and breathed in the horsey smell. It was like therapy, only better, being around horses again, riding again. Why hadn’t she realized how much she’d missed this? As a kid, she’d spent as many hours as possible on the back of a horse. Competing hadn’t interested her. No 4-H shows or barrel racing for her. She’d been happy just to ride all over this valley and on trails in the mountains.
She’d been riding Buck’s horses every day since that first afternoon, taking turns with the animals and feeling out their personalities. Today she’d returned to her favorite, the black one she’d first ridden.
Knowing she’d spent enough time with him already, she gave the horse one final pat and then left the pasture. When she glanced toward the patio, she was surprised to see Buck and Cocoa weren’t alone now. A few strides closer and she realized who the woman was: Ashley Holloway. She’d been Buck’s steady girlfriend for much of their senior year way back when. Popular and beautiful—and, in Charity’s opinion, rather empty-headed—she’d left the U of I after a couple of years to marry a successful investment broker from McCall.
Charity hadn’t seen Ashley since the summer after their high school graduation. As she drew closer to the patio, it became clear that the other woman had only grown more beautiful with time. And if the designer outfit she wore was any indication, reports of her husband’s success weren’t exaggerated.
Ashley looked away from Buck, saw Charity, and gave an excited squeal as she shot to her feet. “Charity Anderson! Is that you? Mom told me you’re in town for the summer. I’m so glad to see you.” She embraced Charity as if they were long lost friends. Impossible since they’d never been close in the first place.
It was such a surprise that Charity couldn’t speak for a few moments, not even after she was free again.
“I came to town today,” Ashley said, “because I’m working on the all-class reunion, and Mom told me about Buck’s accident. I had to come over and wish him well.” She turned toward him, leaned down, and patted his cheek. “Poor guy. My grandpa says if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have no luck at all.”
Buck shook his head. “It was an old Hee Haw song that said that, Ashley. Not your grandpa.”
“Whatever.” Ashley waved away his words with a flick of her hand. Then she looked at Charity again. “Are you coming to the reunion in August?”
First Sara and now Ashley. Were they ganging up on her? It felt like it. “I’m not sure.”
“Oh, you simply must come. You must. You’re in town anyway. I promise it’s going to be loads of fun. And I would absolutely love to sit down and talk and catch up with you. I mean, who would’ve believed you would wind up being Kings Meadow’s most famous graduate.”
The sense of well-being Charity had felt after her horseback ride was beginning to evaporate. “I’ll think about it, Ashley.”
“You must come. You missed our tenth reunion.”
Charity nodded but said nothing more. She wanted to leave, but she would have to help Buck inside first and was reluctant to do that while Ashley was still there.
“Well, I really can’t stay,” Ashley said, as if reading Charity’s mind. “Lots to do and little time to do it in. You know how it is.” She laughed airily before giving Buck a kiss on the cheek. “Later.” Then she kissed Charity’s cheek, too, and hurried off.
Charity turned toward Buck, stunned into silence a second time.
He looked as if he was holding back a laugh. “She’s got a good heart, you know.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think she knew who I was in high school, and that was the last summer I saw her. What makes us such good buddies now?”
“Time.”
That stopped her in her tracks. He was right, of course. Time changed all of them, for good or for bad. Hadn’t she been trying to change herself for the better? So would it hurt to give Ashley the benefit of the doubt? She supposed not.
Buck had patiently waited out her internal struggle. “Well,” he said now, “maybe you’d best get me inside. I imagine you’ve got work waiting for you.”
“Mmm.”
“Wish I could say the same.” He grabbed the crutch from the ground. “At least I’ve managed to cover all of the trips I had scheduled through the end of July. That’s a load off my mind.”
Before Charity could move to his right side to help him up, the telephone he’d placed in his shirt pocket rang.
“Hold on a sec,” he said to her before answering it. “Hello?”
Charity watched his eyes widen as he listened.
“I’ll be there. Soon as I can catch a ride . . . No, Ken. I’l
l be there.”
“What is it?” Charity asked as soon as he hung up.
“Sara. She’s gone into labor. They’re taking her to Boise by ambulance.”
“Ambulance,” she repeated softly.
“Can you get me to the hospital? I need to be there for Ken.”
Buck continued speaking, but Charity’s brain had already shut down. The hospital. A baby on the way. A baby on the way too soon . . . Her body felt hot, then cold, as she fought to push back the memories that instantly flooded her mind. She had to keep control. I will keep control. I will not lose it.
Bit by bit, she fought her way back to the moment only to realize Buck had gone silent. He looked at her carefully. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded before answering. “Give me five minutes to change my clothes. I’ll drive my car over here to get you.” She took a step toward her parents’ house, then looked back. “Do you need to go inside before we leave?”
For a moment he looked as though he might press the issue, but he shook his head. “No, I’m good. You’ll need to grab my scooter for me. That’s all.”
“Okay. I won’t be long. Come on, Cocoa.”
She jogged toward the house. She didn’t allow herself to think beyond the need to hurry. She simply washed her hands and face and brushed her hair into a ponytail—noticing with detached calm the paleness of her face in the mirror, the ever-so-slight trembling of her hands—then changed into cropped pants and a cotton top. At the last minute she grabbed a sweater, in case the waiting area was cold. She remembered the cold . . .
On her way back through the kitchen, she scooped dry kibble into Cocoa’s food bowl and made sure the dog had plenty of water.
“You be good, girl. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” If it turned out to be too long, she would have to call someone to come over and let the dog out. But she couldn’t worry about that now. She had to get Buck.
She drove her SUV around to the back of his house. Before helping him to the car, she went inside for his scooter. It was only a few more minutes before they were on their way. Neither spoke as they passed through town. Once beyond Kings Meadow, Charity was glad to have the winding river road to concentrate on. It kept her thoughts from wandering to the hospital and a baby coming before its time.
BUCK STARED OUT THE WINDOW, TOO BUSY PRAYING to notice the passing landscape. He asked God to protect Sara. He asked God to keep the baby safe. He asked for wisdom for the doctors and nurses, in the delivery room and in the nursery afterward. The baby was early. A preemie. But these days, a baby that came early had a good chance. Right?
Ken had told him he didn’t have to come, but Buck wasn’t about to stay home. Maybe he couldn’t do anything but be there. So he would be there. He knew how to “be there.”
I’m sick of “being there,” God. Sick of dealing with bad situations. Please let this be a good one. Please let Sara and the baby be all right.
“Are you okay, Buck?”
He looked over at Charity. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hoping Sara can say the same.” He turned his gaze to the road ahead. “About another half an hour?”
“A little longer. Probably forty-five minutes to the hospital.”
“Do you suppose the ambulance is there yet?”
“I’m sure of it. And I’m sure Sara and the baby are fine too.”
He tried to appreciate the certainty in her voice and words. He tried to believe her. He almost did. Almost. But he needed to see for himself.
Just go faster. Faster. Faster. Faster. He pressed down on the floorboard with his left foot.
As if she’d read his mind, Charity said, “I’ll be able to speed up once we’re past the river.”
He nodded, but his impatience didn’t diminish. If he didn’t have these stupid casts on, he would be at the wheel. He knew how to drive this road fast. He’d done it before.
It seemed an eternity before they reached the city limits, but finally they were on State Street and on a straight shot toward the hospital. Charity drove to the front entrance to let him and his scooter out.
“I’ll park the car and then I’ll find you,” she called after him as he rolled toward the automatic doors.
At the information counter, he told the young woman that his sister-in-law was in labor and had been brought in by ambulance. The hospital employee—or perhaps she was a volunteer—looked down for a few moments, locating the information on the computer screen, then told him where he needed to go, pointing to the bank of elevators. She was still speaking as he sped toward them.
Buck hadn’t been present for the births of his nieces. Ken had been in college at the time, and both of the girls had been born in Moscow near the university. Buck had missed his nephew’s birth, too, although he’d been at the same hospital at the same time. Only he’d been over in oncology with his dad, watching a little more of his life draining out of him.
He ran into his brother in the hallway outside of the maternity wing. He’d barely stopped the scooter before Ken embraced him.
“I didn’t think you’d get here this fast,” his brother said in a gruff voice.
“Charity was with me when you called. She drove me.”
Ken stepped back. “Thanks. I . . . I’m glad you came.”
“How’s Sara?”
“Doing all right for now. I had to step out of the delivery room to try to get my emotions under control. I don’t want to upset her.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“He expects the delivery to go well. He says the hospital has the state’s most experienced Level III NICU. The baby will have the best care available. They’ve got rooms in the hospital for the parents to stay in as long as the baby has to be here.”
Buck heard the fear in his brother’s voice, even as he spoke the words that were supposed to comfort them both.
Ken drew in a long, deep breath and slowly released it. “I’d better get back in there. Want to come with me?”
“Nah. I don’t think she wants the bachelor brother-in-law watching her give birth. I’ll wait out here. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Tell Sara I’m praying for all of you.”
Ken nodded, his eyes watery. Then he turned and walked away, disappearing through a pair of doors.
Buck felt like pacing, the way his brother had been doing when he arrived, but he doubted pacing on a scooter would do him any good. So he rolled it to the waiting area and sat on one of the chairs.
CHARITY’S HEART RACED AS THE ELEVATOR CARRIED her upward. Instinct told her to run away, to get out of there. But when the doors opened, she pressed her lips into a tight line and stepped onto the floor, resolved not to let fear or the sins and regrets of the past rule over her.
She found Buck in a waiting area. Thank You, God. She wasn’t sure resolve would have carried her into the delivery unit itself. Taking the chair next to him, she hesitated, then reached out and patted his shoulder, offering wordless comfort. Then they simply sat in silence, lost in thoughts.
Charity’s thoughts took her back ten summers.
The contraction made Charity stop walking. She buckled forward, gasping for breath. Her roommate, Danielle, held on to her arm and kept her from toppling over.
It’s too soon. It’s too soon.
She straightened. At two in the morning, the hospital was strangely quiet. There were only a few people in the waiting area as she checked in with the nurse. In moments a wheelchair appeared, pushed by a grim-faced orderly, and she was whisked away from her friend and taken into a web of hallways and private elevators.
She hadn’t wanted this baby. She’d almost had an abortion. That’s what Jon had demanded she do when she’d told him she was pregnant. But she hadn’t been able to go through with it. Why, she couldn’t say. She’d hated every moment of her baby’s life, from conception right up to now. She’d resented the lies she’d had to tell because of i
t. She’d resented the secrets she’d had to keep. She’d despised the boy—by no stretch of the definition a man—who had done this to her. She’d hated herself even more for allowing that horrid night to happen.
But her ordeal would have been over in another eight or nine weeks. The adoption arrangements had all been made. With a little creativity in her wardrobe, she had finished the spring semester without anyone at college knowing she was pregnant. And if the birth had happened on schedule, she’d expected to be back in school for the fall semester without anyone the wiser.
Only now she was in labor with a baby whose chances of survival had dropped considerably. If it did survive, would the prearranged family still want to adopt it, especially if it had developmental problems?
It’s your fault this is happening. You hated it, and now you’re being punished.
The baby was a boy. She’d been told that a few weeks ago. But she’d never called it “him” or “he.” That would have made it too real. That would have made it a child who would have a name and a future. Someone she might learn to love.
As nurses bustled about her, asking questions, helping her out of her clothes, attaching instruments of one kind or another, she started to cry. Silent tears, welling up and then spilling over, streaking her cheeks. How could she have made such a mess of her life before she’d turned twenty? How could she—
“It’s a boy.”
The words broke through Charity’s memories, and she looked up. Ken stood before them, happiness and fear mingling together on his face.
“He’s small, but not as small as they expected. Right at five pounds. All systems seem to be working properly, but they’ll still keep him in NICU for a while. Sara came through everything fine.” Ken pulled Buck up from the chair, and the brothers hugged, patting each other on their backs in perfect rhythm. “I’ve gotta go back in. I’ll bring more news when I can.”
As his brother hurried away, Buck dropped into the chair, exhaling. “Thank God,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry, Charity.” The doctor’s voice, soft and grim, seemed as real and present as if the physician were speaking now and not a decade ago. “Baby boy . . . stillborn . . .”
The Kings Meadow Romance Collection Page 27