Family Matters (The Travers Brothers Series): The Travers Brothers Series

by Rita Hestand

  "Deke must have taken the back road," Emma cried.

  "'Fraid so."

  Emma looked at Clint. "Sorry you'll miss your bull ride."

  "Looks like. I knew you planned this…" He smiled sadly at her.

  "I'm so glad you're gonna miss that ride," Emma said, before another pain hit her, this time much worse, making her fold herself into one little knot. Then as the pain eased, she unfolded.

  "I knew it. You did this deliberately, didn't you?"

  Clint asked, and they both broke out in laughter.

  "Good timing, huh?" she chuckled again, then bent with another pain.

  "Those pains are coming awfully close. What do we do now?" he asked, the sincerity breaking the jovial comments.

  Emma looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes, "You've birthed calves before, haven't you?"

  "Well, yeah, but–"

  "It's the same, basically," she said, almost matter-of-factly.

  "I sure wish you were joking now." Clint whistled "Or that you were a cow…" He said through his teeth, waiting for some kind of false calm to overtake him. It didn’t.

  "Nothing I can do about it now, bro. I don't think I could get up if I tried."

  "Okay, then we'll handle this," Clint said, his voice going deadly serious. He was about to help deliver Emma's baby. Deke's baby. The intimacy it threw them into took a backseat to the emergency of the situation. He wouldn't think of her as kin, but as a woman who needed his help.

  "You'll do fine," she said seriously, and smiled at him, then leaned her head against the door jam. "I can't think of another person I'd rather be with, other than Deke at this moment," Emma said with a brave smile.

  Clint took a deep breath and swallowed hard. The next hour went by in a frenzy. Clint closed his mind to what he was doing, and bent to the task of helping Emma deliver her baby.

  "Push, Emma," Clint yelled at her, as the sweat began to matt her hair. She let out a tremendous scream, and held the seat cushion for dear life.

  "I've got a head, hon. Push some more." Clint was holding the baby almost in his arms when Emma pushed for the third time. The baby cried out as he took it into his arms, and smiled.

  "It's a boy," Clint beamed. The wonder in his voice amazed him.

  "Oh, Clint, put him here," Emma cried, directing him to lay the baby on her tummy.

  "Won't that hurt you?"

  "Not at all," she beamed as she took in her son with motherly pride.

  "Oh, Clint," she cried and reached for his hand, "we did it."

  Clint covered the baby, and sat hugging the door as he watched the new mother and child. He started the truck and turned on the heater and watched the miracle before him. He wondered if it had been this wonderful for Abby, too.

  Was this what it would have been like? Had God granted him the right to see it for himself, feel that marvelous feeling of new birth?

  Suddenly car lights shone, and pulled over to the side of the road where Clint was parked.

  Clint knew it was Deke even before he recognized the car. Deke approached the truck with all the tenacity of a man bent on getting to his woman.

  "Is she alright?" he demanded of his brother in a hard tone.

  "They are," Clint responded with a wide smile, just before he spotted Abby getting out of the car, too.

  Emma sighed happily when Deke poked his head through the doorway, and sent her the biggest, goofiest grin that ever was.

  "Say hello to your son, daddy. And thank that brother of yours for keeping a cool head through all of this. I think he's suffered more than I."

  Clint moved toward Abby with a purpose.

  "Are you alright?" Abby asked edging closer, her face full of genuine concern.

  "Yeah, but what are you doing out here?" Clint asked, as she almost hugged him to her.

  "I met Deke in town, and his truck had been slipping all over the place, and I offered him a ride. He told me what had happened." Abby explained. "Is she—"

  "She's fine, and so is the baby. A big, beautiful, baby boy." Clint beamed with pride.

  "And you—helped her."

  "Yeah. My God , what a miracle. I don't know how I managed it, really. But once I realized I had no choice, something took hold. Emma's fine, and so is the baby. I'll never understand the human mind, but once we knew there were no choices, we did it."

  Abby threw herself into Clint's arms, and laughed. "Oh, I'm so glad you're both okay. I was so worried."

  In her eyes, it was obvious she hadn't meant to say that to him, but he was so glad that she had.

  Just having Abby this close was enough for Clint. But the feeling inside him was bursting, and without warning, his lips found hers, and he was kissing her with all the pent up emotions of a man too long without his woman.

  For once, Abby seemed to let down all her defenses, and kissed him back. Clint groaned and pulled her fully against him. Oh, how he wanted her, right this minute, but he knew he couldn't. And he turned her loose with reluctance.

  He wasn't going to worry about the right or the wrongs of it. Not now. Maybe later, when this glorious moment passed. For now, he was enjoying her in his arms, where she needed to be. Where she belonged.

  "It was beautiful, Abby. Just beautiful. There's no other word to describe it. I kept thinking about you, and how you must have needed someone. And wishing I had been with you."

  Abby chuckled.

  Then, as though it had just dawned on him. "Where's dad and Sammie Jo?"

  "At the hospital, waiting." Abby smiled. "Where's Clay?" he asked.

  "With Mom."

  "Good. At least he isn't out in this, too." Clint seemed satisfied.

  With some effort, Deke and Clint managed to get Emma into the car, and they headed for the hospital. Clint drove Judy's old Pontiac into town, and parked in front of emergency.

  In minutes they had Emma safely tucked in bed and the baby in the nursery.

  Clint and Abby stood at the nursery window, looking at the beautiful little miracle before them. Cal and Sammie Jo were looking, too. Sammie Jo snuggled against her Papa.

  "She did it, Papa. She brought me a baby brother. Just like Clay."

  "She sure did, honey. With Uncle Clint's help." Cal acknowledged.

  Chapter Ten

  It was Christmas Eve, and Emma and the baby were home with the family at last. Emma had spent a couple of days recovering from a minor infection. The hustle and bustle about the ranch house made the old walls vibrate with life.

  Emma and Deke shared every moment with their family, enjoying the way the brothers all fought to hold the baby.

  Clint spent a lot of time just looking at the baby, feeling his soft skin, touching his beautiful black hair, and marveling at his size. Probably the closest he'd get to a baby was right here with Deke and Emma.

  Cal was fixing most of the Christmas dinner, and Emma did as much as she was up to. Even she admitted, her baby had taken some of the spunk out of her.

  Clint got a call from Judy that evening.

  "John had to go back to Dallas to his mother this morning, so I guess it will just be the three of us," Judy said, with a huge sigh into the phone.

  Clint glanced around the room, enjoying the fact that his home was filled with love and caring, and couldn't stop himself from inviting the three of them over for a Christmas Eve supper.

  "I hope you don't mind me inviting them," Clint asked, looking around at the others as he hung up the phone.

  "No, no, of course not," Emma said, giving the baby to Uncle Rusty as she put a pot of coffee on. "I'm just glad they are coming, someone has got to eat all this food."

  When Abby and her mother arrived, the house seemed to swell with people. But no one cared. Rusty's girlfriend wasn't there for the first time in several years. Jake's date for the evening had come home with him to see the baby, and hot cider and cocoa were passed about. Bertha had come bearing gifts for everyone, including the new addition.

  She quickly told Emma to sit at the ta
ble and give her directions on what to do.

  Abby seemed determined to stay away from Clint as much as possible, but every now and then, he cornered her. She looked good enough to eat, Clint thought, with a hunger that wouldn't be satiated.

  Judy, Bertha and Cal talked for a long while. It seemed to do Judy a world of good to get out and be around friends.

  Clint picked Clay up in his arms, and looked him square in the eyes. "Hey, partner, I've got a surprise for you."

  "You do?" Clay's eyes brightened.

  "Well, it's from all of us, really. Come on." Clint took Clay by the hand, and led him outside to the barn.

  Abby and Judy followed, and the others held back.

  When Clint produced a pony, Abby shrieked. He glanced over at her, and knew she was not impressed.

  "Well, every cowboy has to have a horse. And this is Clay's, whenever he is here."

  "Mine?" Clay's eyes widened. He wasted no time in trying to mount him. But his legs were way too short, so Clint brought out a stool, and showed him how to mount the pony. He led him around the corral, and Clay beamed with pride.

  "He's too young for this sort of thing," Abby protested in a whisper, when Clint stood beside her and watched his son ride proudly around the corral.

  Sammie Jo seemed very impressed with how well Clay sat in the saddle, and before long, they were both on top of the pony. They giggled and laughed.

  The pony was a complete hit, even if Abby didn't like it.

  Later that evening, Clint drove Judy and Abby home. Clay lay asleep, sprawled across Abby's and Clint's lap.

  When they arrived, Clint carried Clay to his room, and deposited him on his bed. Clay opened one eye, and whispered,

  "Thanks, Uncle Clint." Then his eyes closed again and he went back to sleep.

  Clint tiptoed out of the room, to be met by Abby's stormy expression.

  "The last thing he needs is a horse, you know. Really, Clint, I wish you had talked to me before giving him something like that. In the first place, it's terribly expensive, he can't take it with him to Dallas and–and."

  "And he loves it, so, indulge me, will you?" Clint smiled beguilingly.

  "He's just a little boy," She protested, going toward the kitchen and making a pot of coffee.

  "Little boys grow up, and he wanted a horse."

  Judy sat in the kitchen at the table. "It'd be almost unnatural for him not to like horses, between the two of you."

  Her statement seemed to throw an intimate gleam between Abby and Clint, and she suddenly excused herself. "Thanks for inviting us over. It was so nice being with you all tonight."

  "We’ll do it more often, too!" Clint winked.

  "I'll count on that," Judy smiled and patted him on the arm.

  "Goodnight, mom." Abby called.

  "’Night, dear."

  Clint watched Abby fumble with the cups, then stand at the coffee pot and wait for it to finish.

  "So, why'd John leave before Christmas? I'd think he'd want to be with you during the Christmas holiday." Clint asked, watching her every move. Damn, she looked so crushable in that big sweater and tight jeans.

  "His mother was worse," she explained. "He says."

  "Thoughtful guy, isn't he?" Clint nodded.

  "Yeah, isn't he," she agreed, a firm set to her jaw when she brought them both a cup of steaming hot coffee.

  Clint took a swig of coffee, and looked at her emotion ridden face. She didn't look too happy.

  "I--I have something for you," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small little velvet box.

  Abby stared at it for a long moment. "What's this?"

  "Your Christmas present."

  "Oh--but you shouldn't have. I mean, I didn't—"

  "It's okay, it's not that much," he admitted, not wanting her to feel bad.

  "Why did you do it—-why did you have to do something so sweet?" She cried.

  She looked at the box as though it might bite her. Then she slowly opened it. Silence sliced the air. Then she let out a long-held breath, her eyes sparkling with surprise and joy.

  "Oh, my, where did--I mean--how. I mean, it's the other half," she cried, as tears welled in her eyes.

  Her hand shook as she took out the small half-locket. "I wasn't even sure you'd remember that," Clint said, in a low murmur.

  She let the half heart-shaped locket fall to the table, and got to her feet. She moved toward the back door, as though trying to escape. Her shoulders bunched and it was obvious she was trying to keep herself unemotional while her face spoke volumes.

  Clint followed her.

  "Hey,” His finger reached to stoke her cheek. “I thought you'd like it," he said with an apology.

  "I—I," she turned then, and looked at him, and he was hopelessly lost in her tears and agony.

  "Oh, God, Abby, don't look at me like that. I tried to think of something you'd like. Something that would mean something to you. This was the only thing I could think of. The only-—"

  "My God, we must have been about ten years old when we broke that locket, and decided to each keep a piece of it. We'd just become blood brothers." Her words choked her. "I remember, you cut my wrist, and yours, and we put them together and made a pact. That we'd always be friends, no matter what."

  "That's right, no matter what," he nodded, his voice went low and husky. "I didn't think you'd remember. So–why the tears?"

  "I—I," but she didn't have to finish, because he leaned toward her, his hand above her head, as his lips feathered hers. He really hadn’t meant to kiss her, not in this vulnerable mood, but he couldn’t resist.

  She let out a small indescribable moan, and he pulled her fully into his arms. Abby couldn't stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck, and hugging him closer.

  The kiss melted her resistance, and she became pliant in his arms. His Abby, his mind darted. He wanted her, needed her.

  When he moved his hands up and down her, fitting her against him fully, she moaned aloud, and returned his kisses until some form of sanity took hold, and she pushed him away.

  "Clint, I think you better go," she whispered in a husky tone. She knew if he stayed and continued doing that, what could happen.

  "You don't really want me to go. I can feel it in your kisses."

  "I know, that's why I think you better leave," she muttered miserably.

  Clint moved to look at her. He liked the way his kisses swelled her lips, and the confusion in her eyes said she wasn't sure she wanted him to go. He knew that in a few more minutes all her no's would be yes’s.

  "Dammit!"

  She looked at him now, fully. "What's wrong?"

  "I picked a hell of a time to become a gentleman." And he released her. And walked slowly out the back door.

  For the next few days, Abby seemed content to let Clay visit with Clint and the others. She was leaving soon, and Clint didn't want to think about that. He couldn't.

  How would he ever have the guts to say goodbye to Abby?

  It was a couple of days before New Year's when Sammie Jo got the bright idea to have a ride with Clay. Clint fixed their mounts and checked all the gear before he let either of them near the horses. Once satisfied, he tried to remove himself from the scene so they could have a little fun.

  He had just gone behind the barn door when he heard a loud thump and a scream so shrill that he was paralyzed for a moment.

  He ran in the direction of the scream, and found Sammie Jo bent over Clay's still form.

  "What happened?" Clint asked, as he pulled Clay into his arms.

  Sammie Jo was crying now, and near hysterics, "One minute we were okay, the next, he was flying in the air, and he hit the barn wall, Uncle Clint. Is he going to be okay?"

  Clint saw the expressionless face of his son, and the life seemed to drain totally out of him for a second. Surely to God he would be? But something told him that Clay should have been awake by now if he was okay.

  Emma and Rusty came running out
of the house, and gathered about them, asking questions, trying to calm Sammie Jo.

  Clint headed straight for his truck." Call Abby; tell her what happened. Tell them we are headed for the hospital." He instructed Emma.

  As he spun out of the drive, the gravel flew in the air, and he must have hit every bump in the road, judging by the way Clay's limp body bounced on the seat.

  Clint didn't want to think about the possibilities. He wouldn't think about them. All he wanted was to get him safe to the doctors.

  Clay didn't respond, and Clint knew by the time he had him to the hospital that this was no minor injury.

  He walked the halls as the doctors wheeled him into emergency. He glanced through the small glass opening of the ER room. But there were too many people to tell what was going on.

  It seemed like hours before a doctor came out and told him the news.

  "He has a concussion. We don't know how serious, yet. We've got to do some tests, x-rays and such. As soon as we know something, we'll let you know. Are you the father?"

  Clint stared at the doctor in a daze, as though he weren't really there, but seeing this on TV as some drama.

  "Yes, I'm the father."

  Maybe it wasn't right, maybe he shouldn't have said that, but he was Clay's father, and he needed to say it aloud. Especially now.

  "Then perhaps you'd like to wait in the waiting room until we have him settled."

  Clint couldn't wait. Wait? Were they crazy? That was his kid in there. He wasn't sitting out here alone, waiting to hear who knew what. He wanted to be there with his son.

  But all those arguments died on his lips when he came crashing back to reality, and he nodded. "Yes, thank you."

  Waiting wasn't his virtue. He paced, he sat down, he paced some more. He scratched his head and thought to call home.

  "How is he?" Cal asked.

  "Don't know anything except he's concussed. Have you got a hold of Abby yet?"

  "No, no one is home over there. Do you know where she might be?"

  "No, but keep trying, will ya?"

  "Sure, sure, son, are you staying up there?"

  "Yes, as long as it takes."

  "We'll be up, shortly."

  "Okay," he answered dully. Listening to his past, his memories shrouded about him. Then as though it occurred to him, he asked. "How's Sammie Jo?"