“Casey, what’s going on? I’m calling from San Francisco. I’m certain he’ll want to speak with me as soon as possible.”
Gwyneth was calling from Nathan’s office? The barracuda was transferred, and my husband didn’t tell me?
She looked down at Nathan’s face, which currently appeared as innocent as a babe, and had to jump to her feet to keep from grinding the bag of peas against his wound. She paced on the cold concrete, not looking at the two men she knew were watching her.
“He’s…busy.” Give nothing away, a little voice cried. This woman is not your friend.
“He’s okay, then?” Gwyneth asked. “Good. You had me worried.”
“My dad’s with him. They’re bonding. Tractors, pigs, peas—it’s a guy thing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Casey was a terrible liar. “Hey, nice talking to you, Gwyneth. I’ll give Nathan the message as soon as we’re able to grab a few minutes. It’s kinda hectic around here.”
The wail of a siren could be heard in the distance. She muttered an expletive under her breath. “Gotta run.”
She flipped the lid closed to end the call.
Gwyneth. In San Francisco. She would be a huge asset to the company and could help Nathan whip the place into shape, but Casey suspected that Gwyneth had another agenda, as well. And the goal was to whip Nathan into divorce court.
A few seconds later—before Red could ask her about the phone call—three paramedics arrived on the scene. They discarded the bag of peas and took Nathan’s vital signs.
Questions started to fly. Answers—which to Casey’s ear sounded silly and not plausible—followed. But everything came to a halt when Nathan suddenly opened his eyes and tried to sit up.
“Nathan,” Casey cried, rushing to his side.
The young EMT scuttled sideways to avoid getting knocked over.
“Stay still, please,” the man said. “Ma’am, are you his wife?”
“Yes,” Casey said with more force than necessary.
“Can you please keep him still while I get this printout of heart activity?”
She dropped to her knees and put her mouth close to Nathan’s ear. “Honey, you have to lie still. You bumped your head on the tractor and you’ve been out cold for almost twenty minutes.”
He turned his chin to see her. His eyes had a sleepy, unguarded look. Her heart turned over, reminding her of why she wanted to have his baby. She loved this man. She couldn’t lose him—to an accident or the barracuda. Or to the nameless, faceless ennui that had fallen over their marriage.
The moment ended when the EMT did something that made Nathan close his eyes and let out a soft groan.
“Hey, take it easy,” she snapped fiercely.
Her father appeared at her side and took her elbow, pulling her to her feet. “Casey, let them do their job. You’re the one who insisted we call ’em.”
Jimmy joined them a minute later with a fleece jacket, which he slipped over her shoulders. Casey hadn’t even realized she was cold, but as the warmth hit her, her teeth began to chatter. She looked down and saw her toes curled up in the oversize, very dirty socks. Nathan is gonna kill me, she started to think, but then stopped and looked at her husband who was now sitting up and arguing with the two medics.
He could have died. When you’re young and busy, you never stop to consider how fragile life is. She loved her husband. Their marriage wasn’t healthy at the moment, but that didn’t mean it was beyond saving.
She decided right then that not another day would pass without some kind of resolution. They were going to talk about whatever it was that had made them strangers in the same house.
Even if the problem is five-foot-five with black hair and a law degree?
Casey set her jaw and took a breath. Even then.
TWO HOURS LATER, Nathan looked at the spread of food on the table. He knew what every item was—fried chicken, a tub of mashed potatoes and another of brownish goop that was undoubtedly supposed to represent gravy. There were dinner rolls in a basket and a stick of butter on a plate. And a festive-looking green-and-orange mixture that was no doubt coleslaw. His mind worked fine, but the other three people at the table obviously didn’t believe him when he told them he was okay. Each watched with an air of uncertainty as he took a bite off the plate that his wife had dished for him.
“Um…good,” he said, chewing some of the coleslaw. The sauce was too sweet but he could stomach it.
Tears welled up in his wife’s eyes. “Nope. That proves it. There was brain damage. He’s not the same Nathan I know.”
Nathan stopped chewing. He glanced from Red to Jimmy, who both eyed him as if suspecting that aliens had taken over his body the exact moment he hit his head.
“Nathan hates fast food,” Casey declared. “He would never compliment KFC.”
Nathan looked down. He hadn’t eaten all day that he could remember. The medic who sat down beside Nathan on the straw bale and talked to him for a good fifteen minutes said some short-term memory loss could be expected with a slight concussion. So, it was possible Nathan had eaten and didn’t recall it, but his stomach said otherwise.
“I’m hungry,” he said, taking a bite of chicken.
The crispy coating on the outside gave way to moist meat that tasted just fine. Sure, there was too much salt and additives or whatnot but at the moment he just wanted to fill his belly, which seemed empty beyond reason.
“Jeez, Casey, let the man eat. Maybe he was only picky because you’re a food snob,” Red said.
Jimmy grabbed a chicken leg from the bucket and started to eat, too. He didn’t talk much, Nathan had noticed, but the look in his eyes was intelligent and often highly amused. Nathan wondered if they might have been friends had circumstances been different.
Not that Nathan had many friends. Okay, any. He knew a great many people and he socialized with some who might be considered friends, except that all any of his acquaintances talked about was work. And money. Even the few pals from college had disappeared from his life after he married Casey. Mainly because she’d become his best friend.
Which might explain why he felt so lonely. His best friend had gone AWOL.
“I called Doc,” Red said. “He’s gonna drop by on his way home from the office and check you out.”
Nathan stopped chewing. “You know a doctor who makes house calls?”
Casey groaned.
Jimmy said through his smile, “He’s a vet.”
“A skull is a skull,” Red returned. “He set Casey’s broken arm when she was nine.”
Nathan looked at his wife, who had yet to eat a bite, but had managed to shred a bun into little white morsels that she’d balled up like spit wads. “I didn’t know you had a broken arm…did I?” He added the last as a joke, but regretted it when he saw her color fade.
“Daddy, I need to take him to the hospital. He should have an MRI. What if there’s a slowly leaking blood vessel filling his brain with blood even as we speak.”
Her voice bordered on hysteria—not something he’d witnessed in his wife before. He was absolutely positive about that. “Case, I was kidding. That was a joke.”
She slumped back in the chair. “If he dies in his sleep, I plan to sue.”
Nathan choked on a bite of chicken. Jimmy reached around behind Nathan and firmly whacked him on the back. Nathan’s head started buzzing again and he quickly took a drink of water to avoid another helpful assault.
“Casey, you can’t sue your father, and besides that, I ran into the tractor, not the other way around.”
“It was negligence,” she said, her tone severe. “Nobody leaves a bucket in the air like that.”
Jimmy coughed this time, then waved his half-eaten bun. “Uhh, that was my fault. I’d intended to grease the arms, but the grease gun was empty and I had to pick up some more grease from town. But, Casey, as you know because you were along, they were out.”
Casey made a face. So did Nathan. He didn’t like the i
dea of his wife cavorting around the countryside with her high school flame—grease or no grease.
“Still—” she started to protest, but Red interrupted.
“Aww, Casey, let it go. Jimmy apologized. Nathan is fine. Look, he’s eating like a prisoner who just got out of jail. As soon as Doc checks him out, you can rest easy. We got enough suing going on around here without you adding to the ruckus.” Red looked at Nathan. “Did she tell you about the turkey con-sort-tee-um?”
Nathan turned his attention on his meal, digging into the potatoes with gusto. They tasted quite potato-like, but the gravy had a peculiar iridescence that unnerved him. He decided to stick with butter and salt and pepper. “Uh-huh,” he answered, hoping that would suffice.
Casey leaned forward, giving him a serious look. “Nathan, can you remember what I told you?”
Nathan would have rolled his eyes, but the motion hurt. He knew because he’d tried it earlier. “There’s a land use battle brewing between turkey growers and the landowners in the area, but I don’t want to talk business, if you please. I’m eating.”
She threw up her hands. “See? It’s not him. Nathan talks law anytime, anyplace. And over a heck of a lot better food than this.”
Her declaration went unchallenged because a knock on the door and Red’s bellowing “come in” provided a diversion. A few seconds later a gray-haired man wearing bright-yellow coveralls walked in, his knee-high black rubber boots making a squeaking sound on the tile floor.
“Don’t anyone get up. It’s just me. I know where the whiskey is and that’s all that matters.”
Red laughed. Jimmy smiled, and Casey sank down in her chair with a groan. She reached under the table and squeezed Nathan’s leg, just above his knee. “I won’t let him touch you. I promise.”
Nathan was too startled by the effect Casey’s touch had on him to worry about a crusty old vet. Her fingers massaged his thigh in a tender and caring manner—not the least bit suggestive, but Nathan’s reaction was immediate and hot.
He eyed the half-eaten chicken leg in his hand suspiciously. Was fast food an aphrodisiac? Surely not. There would have been a lawsuit somewhere that he would have read about.
“So, I heard there was a little excitement around here today,” Doc said, drawing up a chair between Nathan and his wife. Casey had to move back to make room for the man. Nathan couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He didn’t want to broadcast his horniness in front of three strangers, but he wanted more of her touch.
“So you’re Casey T.’s mister,” the man said, transferring his highball glass to his left hand. “I’m Doc Kelly. Everyone calls me Doc because my mother was being patriotic when she named me and I prefer not to use my given name.”
Nathan couldn’t not ask. “Which is?”
“Jefferson Monroe.”
“Could be worse. Mine’s Nathan Augustus.”
“Your mother was into Roman history?”
“One would think, but Nathan was her grandfather’s name and Augustus was a teacher of hers that she admired and wanted to honor.”
Doc tossed back the remainder of his drink then looked around the table and said, “He’s fine. Nothing wrong with his head. Eyes are clear and focused. Memory sharp. He’s eating. My work here is done.”
Casey sat forward. “Do you really think so? Should we run into town for a quick x-ray? The medics wanted to take him to the hospital, but—”
Doc interrupted. “That’s their job, but I guarantee your husband is fine. He’s gonna have one hell of a headache for the next couple of days, and I don’t want him behind the wheel today because the sunlight and reflection on other cars isn’t going to help his pain. No reading, either. Just take it easy.”
“Oh, please,” she said with passion, “not that. Nathan doesn’t know how to relax.”
She was right, of course, but he wasn’t a workaholic by choice. If he didn’t keep the money rolling in, who would supplement his mother’s lifestyle, underwrite his baby brother’s next degree and bail out his sister when her whacko husband lost his current job?
“Hey, I can do nothing. I’ve just never had a chance to try.”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’ll be climbing the walls by noon tomorrow.”
He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “Wanna bet?”
Red let out a hoot. “Now, this is getting interestin’, and here I thought you two had a white-bread relationship.”
Nathan wasn’t sure what that meant, but he guessed it wasn’t a compliment. Before he could respond, Jimmy pushed back his chair and said, “I’ve seen my share of marital squabbles lately, so if you folks will excuse me, I’ve got a tractor to grease.”
Doc gave Casey a peck on the cheek then squeezed Nathan’s shoulder with his huge paw of a hand. “I know for a fact Red’s got some illegal painkillers around here, if the drumming inside your head gets too loud. But, don’t worry, even the headaches will be gone in a day or two.”
Nathan decided he liked this man. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“No problema,” Doc said, rising. “Red buys only the finest whiskey, and I promised my late wife I’d never buy another bottle,” he added with a wink.
“Which is why I never remarried,” Red said. He stood up and escorted his guest into the adjoining room. “Can’t abide somebody—dead or alive—telling me what not to drink.”
Alone, Casey and Nathan sat in silence. He pushed his plate away and turned to face her. “I think he’s right. I’m fine.”
She lifted her chin to look at him. Her eyes were luminous with tears. Nathan’s heart turned over and a tender feeling made him reach out to close the distance between them—until she said so softly he almost missed it. “But we aren’t, are we?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, before adding, “Gwyneth called while you were unconscious. She said she’s in San Francisco, working on the assignment you gave her.”
Nathan stifled a groan. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to tell her this news. “I need her help, Casey. I’m short-staffed and she’s very good at what she does.”
She didn’t say anything, but her expression said a lot.
“She’s part of the reason I drove down here today. To tell you in person. I know you’re not wild about Gwyneth, but she’s a colleague. That’s it. She’s not an issue where our marriage is concerned, okay?”
Normally, his wife’s face was the most open and easy to read of anyone he knew, but she’d learned to play poker at a very young age and could outbluff many men—Nathan included.
The sound of Red’s barking laugh in the distance made her look away. “Wrong time, wrong place for this discussion.”
His relief was tangible—until she placed his phone in front of him and said, “She wanted you to call her back. I’ll give you some privacy since it’s about business. Besides, I want to check on Red. Did you notice that he didn’t eat more than a couple of bites? If I can catch Doc, he might tell me what’s going on. Red won’t, that’s for sure.”
She cleared their plates and hurried into the kitchen. The men had moved outside, but Nathan could still hear the murmur of their voices. He wondered what Casey had seen other than Red’s apparent lack of appetite that caused her to worry. His father-in-law seemed his same garrulous self to Nathan. Older, of course. And thinner. His hair was solid white now and his deeply tanned skin more wrinkled, but he still commanded everyone’s attention—even the paramedics had backed off when Red told them Nathan wasn’t going into any hospital.
“If the man ain’t sick now, he will be when you get done with him,” Red had growled. “I called you here for Casey’s sake, not the boy’s.”
The boy. Nathan couldn’t remember the last time anyone had referred to him as a boy. Certainly not since he was seventeen—the year his father had died and Nathan became “the man of the family.”
He looked at the red and silver, ultrathin phone but didn’t pick it up. Gwyneth had called as he was loading his
bag into the rental car. “This is Mother’s Day weekend, you know. I usually spend it with my father back in Boston and instead, I’m here. Working,” she’d said, her complaint obvious.
“Be sure to call him. Since this is our first Mother’s Day in the area, I’m sure Casey’s made plans to take my mother out for brunch,” he’d told her. “We’ll probably swing by Sacramento on our way home.” Liar. Casey hadn’t said a word about going back with him. Nor had she mentioned his mother, which really wasn’t like her.
Her question echoed in his head. But we aren’t fine, are we?
At one time, Nathan would have scoffed at the idea that their marriage was anything but ideal. Now, he had to agree. At the moment they seemed just like every other married couple he knew—they were in trouble.
CASEY WASN’T SURE what was wrong with her—or Red. In her case, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so edgy and nervous around Nathan. Even on their first date, when one of Meg’s friends brought her son’s roommate to dinner instead of her son, who had come down with food poisoning, they’d fallen instantly into like with each other. None of the usual awkwardness she’d experienced in the past when her aunt tried to set her up.
Because they were both lawyers, they’d approached their relationship realistically and dispassionately…well, until the passion started.
“We’re good together. Ying and yang. Hot and cold,” Nathan had said.
She’d agreed, at first. Now, she was worried that each opposite had canceled out the other, leaving them with nothing. But Casey wasn’t a quitter, and she’d focus on their issues just as soon as she finished picking Doc’s brain.
She peeked around the door and waited until she saw Red head toward the dog kennel on the other side of the garage. She could tell by the howls of excitement that his herd of canines couldn’t wait to be released from prison. Jimmy had locked them up to keep them from returning to the barn while the EMTs were there.
A Baby on the Way Page 8
