The Cowboy's Sweetheart

by Brenda Minton

  “I’m too heavy.” She leaned into his neck and he held her closer, tighter. Her doctor met them at the doors to the E.R. That was the great thing about small towns, and switching to a doctor closer to home.

  “What’s up, Andie?” Dr. Ashford motioned them into an exam room.

  “I’ve been cramping. It was light at first and I wasn’t worried, but today it’s worse.”

  “Okay, let’s examine you and see what we can find out.”

  Ryder practically dumped her on the hospital bed. And then he was gone, the curtain of the exam room flapping behind his exit. Andie shook her head. So much for her hero. Her knight in shining armor. The Lone Ranger. No, wait, that was more like it. The Lone Ranger always rode in to rescue the woman and then hightailed it out of town before he could get too attached.

  She couldn’t let it bother her. She knew Ryder, knew why he bounced from relationship to relationship. She knew him well enough that she should have known better than to attach even the vaguest of dreams to him.

  But then, he had just carried her in here. And she wasn’t light.

  “Andie, I’m going to do an ultrasound and examine you.” Dr. Ashford stood next to the bed. “Do you want someone in here with you?”

  Andie shook her head. “I’m a big girl.”

  But her body trembled from shock as reality set in. She was losing her baby. Ryder being with her wouldn’t stop that from happening. And if she was going to fall apart, she wanted to be alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Ryder paced across the waiting room, again. And then he sat down, again. He felt as if he’d been doing that same thing for hours. It had only been one hour, though. He bristled at the idea of waiting without any recognition of his presence here. He wanted a few answers, at least for someone to tell him Andie was okay.

  He’d already asked the receptionist, twice, if she’d find something out for him. Or get someone to give him answers. She’d smiled a pained smile that he thought could have been a little nicer and told him to take a seat and she’d see if she could find something out. He’d watched and she hadn’t left her desk or picked up the phone.

  Etta grabbed his arm when he started to stand up again.

  “If you bother that receptionist or pace across this floor one more time, I’m going to knock you down,” she whispered. And he was pretty sure she meant it.

  She had a magazine in her hand, rolled up. He hadn’t seen her open it and read. She kept picking up magazines, flipping through pages and then putting them down. She wasn’t much better off than he was, but he wasn’t about to point that out to her.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t go back there. No one will tell me what’s going on. What else can I do but pace?”

  “Sit there and pray.”

  “Pray?” He drew in a deep breath and brushed his hand over his face. How much was God wanting to hear from him?

  “Yes, pray. What else are you going to do in this situation?”

  “I guess you’re right.” It wasn’t like he’d ever stopped believing, he’d just had a hard time with church after what happened with his dad. Something like that left a bad taste in a guy’s mouth.

  The door to the emergency room opened and the doctor walked across the room, smiling. “You can see her now.”

  “How is she?” Ryder stood up.

  “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that with you.”

  “What?” He growled the question, hadn’t meant to, but it roared out of him, causing a few people to glance their way.

  “I’m Andie’s doctor and she has a right to privacy. But you can go back and see her.”

  He shook his head as he moved past the doctor, past the receptionist’s desk and through the door that opened as he got closer. Anger had boiled up inside him, more anger than he’d felt in a long time. He tried to tamp it back down, to get control before he faced Andie. It wasn’t her fault.

  It wasn’t even the fault of that smug-faced receptionist.

  “Ryder, calm down.” Etta followed him and for the first time, he couldn’t listen, couldn’t take her advice.

  His gut had been tied up in knots and fear had shoved common sense out the door. Fear and a really healthy dose of anger were now tied together in a pretty untidy package.

  He pushed back the curtain of the exam room, ready to let Andie know how he felt about not being included in the list of people who had a right to know how she was. He shouldn’t have to remind her that this was his baby, too.

  When he saw her, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything when faced with the reality of Andie curled on her side, the blue of a hospital gown over her shoulders and the white blanket up to her chin. He waited at the foot of her bed and Etta walked into the room. Etta looked at the monitors, looked at Ryder and then took a seat on the edge of the bed. She hitched her yellow purse over her shoulder and sat there for a minute.

  “How are you, sugar bug?” Etta patted Andie’s shoulder.

  Ryder had wanted to do that. He had wanted to offer words of comfort. He hadn’t known how. That was Etta’s job. Besides that, he didn’t know how to comfort when he was the reason she was here. He was the reason she was hurting.

  And she didn’t want him to know what was going on.

  He wanted to throw something. Instead he shoved his hat a little tighter down on his head and waited for Andie to say something, anything.

  He’d never seen her so quiet. Never.

  “I’m fine.” Andie reached up to pat her granny’s hand. “The baby…” She wiped her hand across her face. “I still have a baby.”

  Ryder closed his eyes and said a big “Thank you.” That’s how two weeks could change the way a guy thought about life. A man could go from living for himself, to being willing to give up everything to keep a baby safe.

  On the way to the hospital, he’d had to turn off the radio. A Tim McGraw song about a man on his knees, begging God to “not take the girl” had come on. He and Andie hadn’t been able to look at each other, or talk about it. Ryder had turned the song off and Andie had whispered “Thank you.”

  “What did the doctor say?” Etta smoothed the blankets and waited, patiently. But Ryder knew Etta. He knew patience was something she could show, but he knew on the inside she was ready to push down walls to get answers and get something done.

  “Time will tell.” Andie whispered the words and her shoulders shook. Ryder started to move forward, but Etta was way more qualified than he was to handle this situation.

  “Well, time does have a way of doing that.”

  “I don’t want to lose my baby.” Andie turned, pulling the blanket up, avoiding looking at him. Her eyes were puffy and red and her blond hair tangled around her face, sticking to tear-stained cheeks.

  When she’d lost her dad he’d been the one to hold her. They had always held each other. And now she was avoiding looking at him. Awkward had never been a part of their relationship.

  Until now. And it scared the life out of him. He’d made a pretty good show of never needing anyone. And all that time he’d been lying to himself, because he needed Andie. He needed her because she was the most consistent thing in his life.

  There were probably other reasons. He knew there were, but right now he couldn’t put it all together. He just knew that she had to be safe. She had to be okay. And it wasn’t just about the baby.

  “I know you don’t want to lose this baby.” Etta smoothed the hair from Andie’s face, as if she was fifteen, not twenty-eight.

  Andie sobbed again, shuddering. “I didn’t want this baby. This isn’t how I would want my child’s life to start. This isn’t the way a child wants to grow up thinking about itself. But now… Now I can’t stand the idea of losing it, of losing my baby.”

  Their baby. Ryder almost said something, but he bit back the words. He was definitely not experienced at female emotions. He was used to the Andie that threw rocks in the creek and could break about the rankest horses in the county. She knew how to
hang on tight through some wild rides. He’d never seen her get thrown.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t know God’s plan. I have to believe, have to pray, that God’s going to take care of you and this little one of yours.”

  Andie covered her face with her hands and Ryder couldn’t stand still, couldn’t let her hurt that way. There hadn’t been a moment in their lives that they hadn’t gone through the hard times together.

  He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone.

  He didn’t want to go through it alone.

  In a few steps he was next to her. When he wrapped his arms around her, she buried her face in his shoulder and he held her close. Etta moved and he took her place on the bed, with Andie’s arms around his waist. He leaned, resting his lips on the top of her head.

  “I’m not going to let you down.” He brushed blond hair back from her cheeks. “I won’t let this baby down.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  “Andie, the doctor wouldn’t tell me anything. I really need to know what’s going on.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss and kept holding her.

  She pulled back, nodding. “I know. I’ll make sure she knows that you have to be included.”

  “Thank you.” So, he felt a little better.

  The curtain moved and Dr. Ashford walked in, clipboard in hand, glasses on her head. She smiled and pulled the glasses down, settling them on the bridge of her nose.

  “Andie, I’m going to release you because there isn’t a lot we can do but wait. I know that won’t be easy, but that’s what we have. The one thing you can do is take it easy and call me if you experience any bleeding.” Dr Ashford stepped forward with a tube. “Here’s the cream I told you about.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Ashford.”

  “Wait a second. I need more information. Isn’t there anything we can do?” Ryder reached for Andie’s hand and held it tight. Man, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He didn’t want words like time and waiting.

  “At this point there really isn’t anything we can do. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but miscarriages happen in the first trimester. We don’t always know why and we can’t always keep it from happening. At this point the baby’s heartbeat is steady and so we give Andie time. And she rests.”

  He met the doctor’s gaze, and he was mad. She was a doctor. She was supposed to do something. That’s why she was there, taking care of them. “She can stay in the hospital.”

  “Ryder.” Andie squeezed his hand.

  “Andie, we have to do more than wait.”

  The doctor put on a patient but slightly pained smile that didn’t help him feel better, it just made him feel more out of control.

  “If Andie was farther along and having contractions, we could put her in the hospital or give her medication to stop labor.”

  “So do that.” Was that his voice, out of control, unreasonable? Dr. Ashford gave him another of her “poor man” smiles. He wasn’t her first time at the circus; he was sure she’d met other clowns like him.

  “This isn’t a situation where medication will help. This is a situation for…”

  “Prayer,” Etta whispered.

  The doctor nodded. “I would like for Andie to take it easy for a week or two, until the cramping stops. Let’s see if we can get her through the third month, make it through the first trimester, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Andie sniffled and her chin came up, because she wasn’t giving up. He wanted to feel that strong right now, but instead, he felt like a kid who didn’t have a clue.

  The doctor kept talking, but when the words headed in the direction of female stuff, Ryder walked to the door. Or maybe hurried. These were words he could handle in connection to a cow or horse, but not to Andie.

  He stopped at the curtain.

  “I’ll be waiting out here. When can she leave?”

  “As soon as we get paperwork filled out. Straight home, straight to bed. She can get up to use the restroom and take showers. She can walk to the couch. But that’s going to be it for now.”

  Ryder nodded and walked out. As he walked away he could still hear them talking, still discussing the best chance for the baby. He didn’t want to hear about odds. He wanted to know that God was going to do something.

  He hadn’t expected that, to feel like this so soon, as if he’d push down a mountain to make sure his baby was safe. Baby. He remembered the ultrasound picture that showed something that looked like a tadpole. That was his kid in that picture.

  He walked through the E.R., past other curtained cubicles, through doors that slid open as he approached, and then outside into cooler air and a light mist. He took off his hat and stood on the sidewalk with mist turning to rain. The sky was a heavy gray and the wind had died down.

  For the first time he knew how it felt to need God so badly he’d bargain. He’d give himself for the life of his unborn child. He knew how it felt to be that man in Tim McGraw’s song, begging God to take him, but not the girl, not the baby.

  The door behind him opened. He glanced back and it was Etta. She smiled and walked over, looking up at the sky. “It’s raining out here, Ryder.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You finding God out here?”

  “Trying.”

  “He’s as close as the words you’re speaking. So pray hard, boy. And then get that truck and drive it up to the building so we can take her home.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  She touched his arm. “Ryder, this is going to work out.”

  He nodded and walked away. He hoped he wasn’t going to let them all down. He didn’t ever want a kid to feel the way he had. Let down.

  When Andie got in his truck fifteen minutes later he was thinking about how he didn’t want to let her down, either. He never wanted to find her alone, crying because he’d broken her heart.

  Too many times in his life he’d seen his mom that way.

  “You okay?” He shifted into gear and pulled away from the hospital.

  “I’m not sure.”

  No, of course she wasn’t. He wasn’t sure, either.

  Andie woke up late the following morning. She knew it was late because she could hear Etta downstairs washing dishes and the sun slashed a bright ray of light across her room. She’d made it through the night. It had been a long night. Ryder had refused to leave until about midnight. That’s when Etta finally convinced him that his presence wasn’t going to keep bad things from happening and they all needed some sleep.

  She touched her belly, because her baby was in there, still safe, still a part of her world. “Stay in there, baby.”

  “Keep her safe.” She looked up, knowing God heard. She tried to hold onto that faith, and not to fear. Every wrong thing she’d ever done flashed through her mind, taunting her as if her mistakes were a reason for God to take this baby, to make her pay. She pushed the thoughts from her mind.

  Footsteps on the stairs signaled company. She waited and then there was a rap on her door.

  “Come in.”

  “Are you decent?”

  Ryder’s voice. She looked down, at the sweats she’d slept in and the ragged T-shirt. “I guess so.”

  He pushed the door open and she brushed a hand through her hair, hoping to look less like something the cat coughed up and then trying to tell herself it didn’t matter. It was just Ryder.

  “I brought your breakfast.”

  He held a tray with a white foam container from the Mad Cow. He put the tray down, sitting it across her lap. She knew what was in the container. Pecan pancakes. And for the first time she knew she couldn’t eat them. Her stomach turned and rolled, the way it had when she’d been ten and they’d gone to Branson for vacation. The more she thought of those curvy roads and the pecan pancakes…

  “Move it, quick.” Her stomach roiled and she dived as he reached for the trash can and stuck it under her face. If she breathed in, she’d lose it. If she closed her eyes and didn’t breathe, that wouldn’t be good, ei
ther.

  “You okay?” He leaned down, a little green.

  “Get rid of the pancakes.”

  “Got it.” He grabbed the tray and as he headed out the door, she sat up. He peeked back inside the room. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not a problem,” she groaned and leaned back on the pillows.

  “I wanted to do something.” He stepped back into the room, without the tray, and leaned against her dresser. He picked up a framed picture of the two of them on a pony she’d had years ago. His gaze came up, connecting with hers. “I feel like I need to take care of you.”

  “I don’t want you to feel that way.” She pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged on her bed. “This isn’t us. We aren’t uncomfortable, trying to figure out where we fit in each other’s lives. I don’t want you bringing me pancakes and holding the trash can for me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

  “But I do. You didn’t get this way alone.”

  She stuck her fingers in her ears and shook her head, juvenile, but effective. “Don’t.”

  He picked up the picture again. “It would have been easier to stay ten, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yeah, that’d be perfect. But it doesn’t work that way.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “You don’t have to stay here and take care of me. I know you have things to do, places to go.”

  “People to see?” He straightened and moved away from the dresser, a lanky cowboy with faded jeans and a hat that had been stepped on a few times. “I’m here, Andie. I’m in this for the long haul. This is the place where I’m supposed to be.”

  Etta popped into the room. “You’re up. And you don’t have to worry about a thing. Ryder fed the horses for you, and he even helped me pick the last of my green beans.”

  Andie swept her gaze from her aunt to Ryder. “You don’t have to feed for me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

  She didn’t want to get used to him being there for her this way.

  “Before you have this conversation, I wanted you to know that Caroline called. She asked about you and I told her what happened.” Etta stood inside the door, not looking as apologetic as Andie would have liked.