The visual of two pregnant women dukin’ it out sent me off again. Finally, I had to excuse myself and empty my poor bladder. I threw on some purple sweats and headed back to the kitchen. She hadn’t moved an inch.
“Well, guess we know where you stand, huh?” I said, picking at my eggs.
“I may be pregnant, but I don’t play.” She slowly rubbed her belly and studied me with narrowed eyes. “Did you know Jerrod let all the guys come in early yesterday to go get your furniture? Not that I blame you, but there’s more than just you and Ty wanting things to work out. We all want Ty happy. He deserves it.”
As if they were the only ones with anything to lose.
“What the hell does that mean?” I damn sure had more at stake than his damn family did. “Never mind. Just leave! And from now on, mind your own fucking business!” I threw down my fork and lurched to my feet.
“Ty is my business. Boudreauxs take care of their own,” she said, standing. “Just remember that.”
“So, what, no outsiders allowed?” Story of my life.
“You got two choices, sister. Run with the herd, or get eaten by the coyotes. I ain’t thrilled by this marriage at all. But I know how excited Ty is at becomin’ a daddy. You hurt him, you take that away from him, and you’ll answer to me and the rest of the family. We won’t abide it. Understand?”
My sense of humor got drowned in self-righteous anger. “How dare you? Get out! Get the fuck out of my house!”
“It’s the Boudreaux way or the highway, sister.”
“I ain’t your sister! Now get the hell out of my house!”
Once she was gone I collapsed in my chair long enough to catch my breath, then bawled, thankful I hadn’t put on my makeup yet.
How dare she?! Maybe Maggie Boudreaux sent her.
I hopped up, slid my dirty plate in the sink then stopped. What the hell could I say to Ty’s momma, for heaven’s sake? Did you sic your daughter-in-law on me? Prego a Prego?
I considered canceling my nine-thirty, but I wasn’t going to have my hand forced by a cranky pregnant woman. I sniffled again and headed for the bedroom. I had to get my makeup on. Just the thought of it made my tears fall faster. That’s how Ty found me, lying on the bed bawling my eyes out.
So much for making nice with the in-laws.
“What are you doing here?” I mumbled, eyeing him through tear-swollen eyes.
He looked at me, the expression in his eyes changing from concerned to slightly wary. “I was in the home pasture and saw your car. Don’t you have to work?”
I nodded, curling up on my side and pushing my hair off my face. I hoped he wouldn’t be mad at me for bawling all over his pillow.
Ty headed into the bathroom and returned with some tissues. Crouching down next to the bed, he handed them to me.
“What’s the matter?”
Hiccups caught me off guard, then I got caught up in a huge case of the sniffles. I mopped my face and looked at him. How could I tell him his pregnant sister-in-law had threatened me? And that I thought his momma had sent her?
How juvenile and asinine could you get? That made me start up all over again.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” He brushed some hair off my forehead and planted a soft kiss there.
All I could do was nod and hiccup and cry some more until he returned a few minutes later with a tall glass of water. “Drink this. I called Tara and told her you were sick.”
“I have appointments!” I also had snot running down my face. I blew my nose and sat up. “I have to go to work!”
“Not today, missy.” He reached out and slipped the jacket to my sweats off me. “Today, you stay home and rest. I insist. I have to go out for a little while, but I’ll come sit with you and make sure you’re okay. Should I call the doctor?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t miss work. I slipped out of bed and reached for my jacket but Ty held it above his head, his lips clamped shut. The stern expression on his face brought me up short.
“No, Bee. Not today.”
I sighed and hung my head. I had two choices. I could either tell him about Jessa’s visit and start a huge to-do or give in and spend the day in bed because he thought I was being “A Pregnant Woman.”
Great. Way to go, Slick. “I feel fine!”
Just then, a fit of coughing hit me, and I ran for the bathroom. Phlegm, and lots of it, came up. When I was through, I found a cold wet washcloth dangling in my face. I took it from his hand and wiped my face with a sigh.
No way in hell he’d let me go to work now. Might as well call it a day. “Okay,” I said, voice hoarse, “you win. I’ll stay home.”
I even let him help me stand up. Before I could climb in bed, Ty pulled me close and rubbed my back. “I gotta go get feed. Will you be alright for an hour?”
I nodded, choking on more tears at his sudden tenderness. I leaned into Ty, and heard myself say, “You promise to come back and take care of me?”
So much for Rule Number Eight: Never Beg, Whine, or In Any Way, Cling.
Ty cuddled and shushed me for a while then tucked me in bed. He smelled like outside, fresh air and earth and male sweat. “I need to get cleaned up.”
“To go get feed?”
“Yeah, I was gonna, uh, run by the store and get some stuff for dinner and soup and maybe some Sprite for your stomach.”
“Aw, you’re so good to me.” I smiled, flipping over his wet pillow and burrowing deeper in the bed. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I’m ... I’m gonna get...” He pointed at the bathroom.
“Okay.” I blessed him with another smile and closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. I could get used to having someone take care of me. But not too used. That would be dangerous.
I woke up to the feel of Ty’s lips on my forehead. He smelled awful good to go to the feed store and get groceries, and I watched him walk out through half open eyes. Sharply creased, Sunday-church jeans, Sunday-church boots and a nice plaid shirt.
I bit my lip, refusing to give in to the urge to say anything. While we’re at it, lets throw Rule Number Nine in the mix: Don’t Nag. You can be a bitch at any given time. That’s a woman’s divine right but don’t nag. It ranks up there with whining and clinging.
There’s only one reason I could think of for a man to dress up in the middle of the week like that--besides Wednesday night church service. He was going to see “That Bitch.” Even as the thought crossed my mind, I shoved it away.
Surely not.
Not after all his care and concern earlier. But then something Jessa said came back to me. Ty was excited about becoming a daddy. I lay there letting my half-numb mind soak it in. He loved the baby and possibly his ex-wife but not me. So much for a hundred percent.
Chapter Fourteen
Remedy
What a day for her to get sick. Ty slid behind the wheel of his truck with a groan. He started it up, debating whether to stop at Momma’s and ask her to keep an eye on Bettina. But after her very vocal disapproval of his marriage that might not be such a good idea.
He’d only be gone two hours.
On the way out, he passed Tim heading for home.
“Where you off to?” Tim propped his elbows on the window.
“See the doc.” He couldn’t bring himself to call it therapy. “Can I borrow your cell phone again?”
“Yeah, but it’s up at the house. What’s going on?”
“Bettina’s sick. I came in and found her crying, laid out on the bed.”
“Why’s she crying? Drive up to the house, and I’ll get it for you.”
Ty did and two minutes later, Tim was back. Ty glanced at his watch. He’d be late if he didn’t hurry.
“I have no idea what set her off, but I made her stay home. I think she’s just ... you know, pregnant.”
Tim laughed and handed him the phone. “You made Betti stay home?”
“Yeah.” With a frown, he stuck the phone in his shirt pocket, debating whether to go back to tell Be
ttina he had it, but then, he’d be late for sure.
“I’da paid good money to see that.”
“Why?” He didn’t want her going to work if she didn’t feel good and didn’t see what the big deal was.
“It’s not often someone gets the upper hand on her.”
Ty let it go. He didn’t have the time or feel the need to discuss his marriage with his brother. “I’m gonna be late.”
* * * *
Ty sent up a silent ‘thank you’ that the late morning traffic was light. He made it at nine straight up and stepped in the doctor’s office at five after.
“Sorry Phyllis,” he said, scratching his name on the sign-in log.
“Not a problem, Ty. Dr. Ritter will be right with you.”
No sooner had he gotten settled in the uncomfortable waiting room chair than the door opened.
“Ty, come on back.” Today her suit was red, like cranberries.
“Have a seat,” she said, ushering him into the office ahead of her.
He eased into his usual chair as he heard the soft click of the door closing. Dr. Ritter came around her desk and sat.
“So, how was your week?” she asked, opening his file.
That file had always fascinated him. He couldn’t help but think if she’d share some of what she wrote down, maybe he wouldn’t have to see her so often.
It’d taken him months to figure therapy out. She rarely told him anything, but led, or dragged, him to a point where he could figure things out on his own. Sometimes he appreciated it, but most times it just made him madder than hell.
“Great.” The words were out before he could stop himself. What the hell? He frowned across the desk at her.
“Great?” She sounded excited and her sandy colored eyebrows shot up as she grabbed up a pencil. “Tell me.”
“I got married.” He nodded, unable to keep the sudden smile off his face, and the more he tried to contain it, the bigger it grew.
She sat there for a minute then literally shook her head in confusion. Leaning across the desk, pencil slack in her hands she choked out, “You what?”
“I got married. Monday. And I’m gonna be a dad.” There went that smile again.
“Ty.” She seemed to struggle for words. “Ty ... Rhea?”
“Oh, hell no!” He sat up, and before he knew it, he’d spilled the whole story. The night of his divorce, finding out Bettina was pregnant, getting married. The works. He talked for over half the session. More than he’d ever willingly talked before, and his words seemed to trip over themselves in his haste to explain.
“And how has your family reacted to all of this?”
“For the most part, fine.” He shrugged.
She scribbled furiously. “Still taking your meds? Sleeping? Eating?”
“I haven’t needed the Xanax.”
She nodded and looked up at him expectantly.
“Eating good, a few nightmares.” Now, if only he could find the cure for those.
“About what?” She glanced up at him, her pencil twitching.
“Rhea. The baby,” he reluctantly confessed. “She’s always got this empty baby carrier and she says I have to choose.”
“Does it scare you?”
He nodded. “I’m scared she’ll really hurt the baby.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I’m not sure.” He swallowed and smoothed his hands down the legs of his jeans. “I know it’s not literal. I guess that somehow she’ll take the baby ... my happiness.”
“Since children were something she refused to consider, that makes sense. No panic attacks?”
“No, ma’am. None, not since last Wednesday. And it was an almost.”
“What happened last Wednesday? Why an almost?” Her pencil went on high alert.
“I went to see Bettina after I left here.”
“Your wife?”
He nodded, wondering why it sounded almost like an accusation.
“And she just up and agreed to marry you when you confronted her about the baby?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded again. Dr. Ritter didn’t look pleased. He turned it over in his head, trying to figure out what she was trying to show him. “I’ve known Bettina since kindergarten.”
“What kind of family does she come from?”
“Not great. Her mom was a drunk,” he blurted out, realization dawning. “But she’s not like Rhea!” He sat up, elbows on her desk and looked into her wise gray eyes. “She’s not!”
“How is she not like Rhea?”
“She works,” he said with a nod. “And she’s real affectionate, and she, well, she cooks and um,” his voice grew softer as he ran out of things to say. “I guess that’s not a lot, huh?” Hell.
“No, Ty, it’s not.”
“Kids deserve two parents.” Even to his own ears that sounded half-assed and lame.
“Kids deserve two parents who love each other!” the doc insisted. “Do you love your new wife?”
He turned the question over in his mind, then reluctantly shook his head. “No.”
She scribbled some more notes, then looked up at him. “Are you two sharing a bed?”
He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering their wedding day talk. The pit in his stomach grew. “She ... we ... have sex. Does it really matter?” he asked softly.
“I think so, since sex was a huge problem in your last marriage. How’s your sex life?” She dropped the pencil on top of her notepad and steepled her fingers.
“Amazing.” His face was hot, and his eyes floated to the dark carpet then back up to Dr. Ritter’s knowing eyes.
“So,” she said her tone gentling, “she’s affectionate and you have good sex?”
“Really, really good sex.” The words were out before he could stop them or the grin that fought for freedom.
She chuckled. “Good sex is nothing to base a marriage on, Ty. There are three key ingredients in a marriage: communication, money and sex. You’ve got to be able to talk, you’ve got to have the same financial goals and dreams and you’ve got to be able to have great sex. Just one is not enough.” Leaning back in her chair, Dr. Ritter continued, “I want you to bring her in next week. I’d like to talk to the both of you together.”
Abso-freaking-lutely not! “Her prenatal visit is next Wednesday. It’ll have to be after Thanksgiving.”
Like when hell freezes over.
Communication was one thing, but there was no way he’d ever tell Bettina about the doc or the medication or Rhea’s abuse. He might not love her, but he did care about what she thought of him.
“Alright then. Our time is up. If you need me over the holiday weekend, Ty, you know you can call me.”
He nodded and let himself out, stopping at the front desk to schedule his next appointment. He’d just make some excuse about why Betti couldn’t come, or reschedule it, or quit going or something. He’d think of something. Dad would just have to understand.
Out in the truck he tried Bettina on the cell phone, but no one answered. On his way home, he swung through H-E-B and grabbed four kinds of soup, Sprite, chicken and ... on impulse, some flowers.
“Bettina, honey?” Ty called out, setting the bags on the dining room table.
Stone, cold silence greeted him as he went to check the bedroom. The bed was unmade, the sheets all rumpled.
No Bettina.
Next, he checked the other three bedrooms. Still no Bettina.
She’d gone to work! He spun around and back out to the front porch. Her car hadn’t moved.
Don’t panic. He walked the wrap-around porch.
Breathe.
And came to a dead halt on the back porch.
Out in the yard, in a little patch of sunlight, lay his wife in a chaise. She must have dragged it down off the porch. Despite the fact that it was November, the day was clear, crisp and sunny. This was Texas after all, and in Texas the weather changed its mind more often than a lady.
Relieved, he slowly cr
ossed the porch and stepped down into the yard, his boots crunching the occasional leaf as he went. Bettina lay sound asleep with her fist tucked up under her chin. Her nose was still red from crying and her lashes still wet. She must not have stopped after he left, and he angrily wondered what had set her off to begin with.
On silent feet, Ty made his way back to the house, called his mom, who reluctantly promised to tell his dad he wouldn’t be back, then changed his clothes. He put the groceries away, made himself a sandwich from the last of the brisket and sat on the back porch to eat, so he could keep an eye on her.
While he ate, he thought about his conversation with Bettina the day of their wedding, and about what Dr. Ritter had said. Sex, money and communication. Now he had a better idea of what Bettina had been asking for. Not just sex. And he couldn’t just try and make their marriage work, he had to commit to it. Affection did matter. Rhea hadn’t been affectionate, even when she was young.
He enjoyed being near Bettina, and the sex was just a huge side benefit. She was independent. She didn’t cling to him except for earlier, but hell, she’d been upset. She made him laugh, and he didn’t have nightmares when they slept together. He’d quickly figured out that having her near kept the Rhea-Demon away.
He didn’t miss Rhea, and if he were honest, could admit he hadn’t for a while. The pangs he’d previously felt at the thought of never having her back in his life weren’t there. And maybe they hadn’t been about her but about being alone. The end of his dreams. What he’d thought he wanted.
He was going to be a dad. Bettina had asked for a real marriage, and not just in the bedroom. That’s what she meant, that’s what she wanted, and that’s what she deserved.
* * * *
Ty awoke in a panic to the sounds of cooking and what smelled like a cake baking. Rhea. No, Bettina! After she’d woken up from her earlier nap, he’d fed her soup and stretched out on the couch with her for a nap. Pregnant women needed their rest.
Once In A Blue Moon Page 12
