by Leslie North
“Hey, no,” Carson stammered, genuinely flummoxed. “I didn’t say that, either. But you need to remember that the riding lessons were her idea, not mine. She told me she approached the judge about me working with Devon, and she was more than happy to supervise the lessons. I didn’t get a whole lot of say in the matter.”
“Maybe not,” Kelly agreed grudgingly, although her eyes were still hard. “But you do have a say in the kind of time you spend with her outside of those lessons, and I’m telling you that you’d better watch yourself or you’ll have me to answer to.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” he answered, feeling his face flush and his hands trembling. He was working hard to keep his cool, but she sure wasn’t making it easy, showing up at his door this time of night and talking to him as if he were the devil incarnate.
“It means stay out of her bed,” Kelly hissed, narrowing her eyes. “You caused enough trouble the last time you were in it. Leave her alone.”
She snorted and turned on her heel, hurrying down the porch steps before he could ask her what that cryptic message was supposed to mean.
He stood in the half-open doorway for a long time after she left, only shutting it again when he got so cold that he could no longer feel his fingers. Then he moved to the couch, all the leftover cheer from his dinner with his brothers long gone.
Whether he had been able to admit it to himself before or not, he knew now for sure that some part of him had been seriously playing around with the idea of reconnecting with Karen in a more permanent way. He didn’t know how that would have looked, what with going back to the rodeo, but he would have been willing to try if she would.
Now, though, he was wondering if it was a good idea for him to be part of Karen’s life at all. Their breakup had been hard, but breakups usually were. He hadn’t realized until this moment that maybe Karen had been hurt even worse than that. He hadn’t understood head nor tail of Kelly’s cryptic message, and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. As things stood, a single, persistent thought in the back of his mind seemed to be solidifying with each tick of the stately old grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
“Maybe it would be better for everyone if I just disappeared,” he murmured, shutting his eyes and swallowing hard. “Like I had never come back at all.”
10
Several weeks went by, and Karen, busy at work, didn’t see Carson again, at least not in person. The images in her head were another matter entirely. It seemed that every time she shut her eyes, he was there. When she slept—and her sleep was always fitful these days—Carson took a starring role in her dreams more often than not.
At first, she was sure that her restless sleep was the reason she wasn’t feeling like herself. Even when she’d been little, Karen had always had a tendency to come down with a bug when she didn’t get enough sleep, and that hadn’t changed in adulthood. Every now and then, she would convince herself that she could be one of those rock stars that easily got by on a couple hours of sleep. Then she would get good and sick—and remember who she really was.
As the days ticked past, though, she started to lose confidence in the idea that this was a virus. Although illness was a predictable result of her bouts of insomnia, her immune system typically bounced back quickly. Except that it wasn’t happening this time.
Idly flipping through her calendar one morning, she suddenly realized why.
“No,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes as a wave of nausea swept over her that had nothing to do with norovirus or any other kind of gastrointestinal distress. “Oh, please, no. This can’t be happening. Not again.”
She picked up her phone with trembling fingers, thankful beyond measure that this wasn’t one of the days when Kelly had decided to stop by early for a quick coffee and a chat before their days got started.
Thankfully, her OB/GYN had just had a cancellation. A little over thirty minutes later, she found herself sitting in the waiting room, tapping her foot and trying not to hyperventilate. Every time the door leading to the back offices opened, she snapped her head to hear which patient was being called. It was a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash along with everything else.
“Miss Peterson? Karen Peterson?” A harried-looking nurse finally called her name, the halo of frizzy hair surrounding her head hinting at an already frenzied morning. “Do I have a Karen Peterson out here?”
“Yes!” Karen cried, jumping up so quickly that she almost knocked over her chair. She blushed at the other patients’ curious looks. “Sorry, yes, that’s me. I’m coming!”
She power-walked across the waiting room floor, almost tripping over a wayward child’s toy as she went, and followed the nurse, trying to ignore her increasingly rapid heartbeats. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pass out here in the hallway, and she simply wasn’t up to that level of humiliation.
Sitting in her truck forty-five minutes later, she remembered thinking that fainting would be the worst thing that could happen and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One thing she knew for sure from past experience. The second she identified a possibility as the worst that could happen, something worse was sure to rear its ugly head.
“How am I going to tell him?” she sighed, shutting her eyes tightly to keep threatening tears at bay. “What on earth am I going to say?”
She let her head fall back against the headrest, shivering all over despite her truck’s heater being on at full blast. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around her new truth. She was pregnant with Carson McCall’s baby. Again. Only this time, she was even less sure how he would feel about it than the first time around.
She was going to have to tell him; she knew that for certain. Even years later, she still hadn’t forgiven herself for keeping it a secret when they were eighteen. She told herself that she had made that choice because she had barely been out of childhood herself. Sometimes it made her feel better. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and she thought Carson had the right to know. Let the chips fall where they may.
She heard her phone chime to alert her to a new text message, and that finally forced her to open her eyes. It took her a moment to read it clearly through her teary eyes, but when she finally got it, she had to laugh.
“You’re nothing if not dramatic in your timing, McCall,” she said shakily. “I’ll give you that much.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine, Karen?” Carson asked, picking up the bottle and moving it questioningly toward her glass. “Because, if you don’t mind my saying so, you seem pretty damned tense. Not to mention, this is a good bottle of vino.”
“No!” Karen answered, louder than she’d meant to, but covering the glass with her hand to stave off any unwanted pouring on his part.
Hearing a low murmur from nearby tables, sounds that her mind translated as disapproval of her volume level, her cheeks began to burn. In her truck earlier, Carson’s text asking whether she was up for a last-minute dinner had seemed like a message from God that telling him about the pregnancy was the right thing to do. Now, she was beginning to wonder if she had jumped the gun. Meanwhile, Carson looked fit to burst with good cheer, only adding to Karen’s hesitation.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wishing he hadn’t decided to take her to the nicest restaurant in Winding Creek and wondering if he would figure out why she was refusing the wine—put two and two together. Or maybe he never would, she reminded herself, making a show of looking around the dimly lit room so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.
“Okay,” he said, raising an eyebrow and pulling the bottle back. “What’s the matter? Not a wine drinker anymore?”
“No, I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” she said truthfully, wishing she could have a glass to calm her nerves, although she would never in a million years have taken the risk. As the day progressed, she had become more and more petrified at the possibility of having another miscarriage or some other problem
.
“Aw, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and she could swear she saw a look of real concern in his eyes. “We didn’t have to do this tonight.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, making her best effort at a genuine, reassuring smile. “I’m glad you asked. I wanted to see you.”
He smiled and nodded, taking a sip of the rich, red wine. They lapsed into an uneasy silence, though Karen would have given much to have even a brief glimpse into what Carson was thinking. She finally decided deferring to him was the coward’s way out and took a deep breath.
When she opened her mouth to talk, though, Carson chose that moment to do the exact same thing. “Shoot,” he chuckled, his cheeks coloring in a way that made her want to reach out and smooth the hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry. You go first.”
“No,” she protested quickly, hating herself for her relief at an excuse to delay. “That’s totally fine. You go. I’m a mess today.”
“Okay,” he said, taking another sip before setting his glass down purposefully. “Don’t mind if I do, if you’re sure, because I’ve got exciting news that I’m aching to tell somebody about.”
“Oh, wow. Okay,” she said, reaching for her water glass and hoping he couldn’t see her hands trembling. “With that introduction, you have to go first. What’s going on?”
“I saw my doctor.” He answered almost before she was done speaking as if truly bursting to get the words out. “I’ve been feeling a whole lot more like myself lately, and I wanted to see if the doctor agreed or if it was all in my head.”
“Sure,” she said with a nod, her voice sounding far away in her own ears. “That makes sense. What did he say?”
The slow grin that spread across Carson’s face told Karen everything she needed to know. Her heart broke all over again, but at the moment, that hardly seemed to matter. This was all about Carson and being happy for him. She would let herself fall apart later, when nobody else was around to see it.
As for the baby, she would figure that part out on her own, too, because there was no way she could tell him about that now. Not when he was on the edge of telling her that he was leaving again soon.
“He cleared me,” Carson said, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. “I can return to the circuit and start training again.”
“That’s amazing, Carson,” she said, the words almost impossible to say, although he didn’t seem to notice. “Really, it is. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you, Karen,” he said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. He looked into her eyes with an intensity that made her want to get up from the table and not come back. “It means more than I can say to hear you say that. As soon as I got the news, I knew I wanted to see you.” He gave a nod to emphasize his earnestness. “I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather share my joy with.”
Karen nodded. Somehow, she managed to say something about how glad she was to be there with him, although later she wouldn’t remember anything but bits and pieces of their conversation. It was difficult to concentrate on anything aside from the screaming inside her own head. Her only consolation was the fact that she hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him she was still in love with him before he’d told her he was on his way out. Not much of a silver lining, but it was all she had.
11
Carson was accustomed to disappointment as an occupational hazard, if nothing else. A man didn’t get to the top of any field, let alone something as crazy and competitive as the rodeo circuit, without getting knocked down a time or three. He could have ticked off at least half a dozen different times when he had let himself down, falling short of his personal expectations and bulldozing straight into bitter regret.
Even so, something was different about the way he felt after talking to his brothers and then to Karen about his visit with the doctor. He’d gone into both conversations expecting to feel only satisfaction afterward, but no. Maybe it reflected his growing internal conflict over whether he wanted to follow the dream that had driven him most of his life, or switch directions and chase a new dream. Instead of the thrill he’d anticipated, he was left feeling hollowed out and, although he hated to admit it to himself, more than a little depressed.
“The people you love,” he mused from the couch where he’d more-or-less grown roots in the days following those two conversations. “Maybe that’s got something to do with it.”
There was another thing he didn’t want to think about. He wasn’t sure when he’d started placing Karen in the group of people he loved. Whether he liked it or not, she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. With his parents gone, the number of people he considered close had dwindled to a precious few. And now, somehow, Carson understood that he had loved Karen all along, through all the years out on the road and in spite of the other women he’d dated. In a way, in some soft, secret place he kept locked away in his heart, being with Karen felt like home.
All of which made it sting even more that she seemed so completely cool with him leaving Winding Creek, this time likely for good. He hadn’t expected her to prostrate herself at his feet or anything so dramatic as that, but he honestly hadn’t thought she would basically shrug her shoulders and bid him farewell.
It had been the same with Trevor and Randy. They’d brought up what would happen to the ranch, but even that hadn’t come off as nearly as big a deal as he would have expected. Everyone seemed more than happy to let him ride off into the sunset—even seemed excited to see him go. He appeared to be the only one who wasn’t actually happy about the idea.
“Because you’re being a big baby,” he chastised himself, muttering angrily as he took a sip of beer even though it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. “It’s like you don’t want to be happy, McCall.”
He might be trying to make himself laugh, alone in his living room, like wearing a ten-dollar Stetson on a five-cent head. But it had the opposite effect, making him think instead about Karen and the way she liked to call him by his last name. He had a feeling that after he drove out of Winding Creek again, he’d never be able to hear his own name again without feeling pierced through the heart.
An unexpected knock on the door roused him out of his self-pity, and he set his beer down guiltily. As he got up, his gaze passed over the side table on that side of the couch. He stopped, catching a glimpse of a picture he hadn’t noticed before, one that could only have been drawn and left by Devon. He picked it up, running his fingers over the slightly creased corners of the page, and heaved a shaky sigh.
The picture showed a man and a boy, sitting side by side on horses. To the right of the duo was a woman with hair the red of a fire engine, her arms held high over her head and a giant smile in place. It didn’t take a genius to see himself, Devon, and Karen, depicted as if they were all one big, happy family. Looking at it that way, thinking about the fact that he would never take Devon riding again, made a lump form in his throat.
A second knock came. He wanted to ignore the caller, climb into his bed, and pull the covers up over his head.
Of course, it was freezing outside, so in all conscience, he had to answer the door. “All right, all right!” he called irritably, running his thumb lightly over the three figures before setting the picture aside again. “I’m coming. Keep your shirt on. And just so you know, if you’re selling something, I’m not buying. I—“
His words cut off as he opened the door and Kelly came barreling past him. She yanked the door from his grasp and slammed it behind her even though he hadn’t invited her to come in. Having spent plenty of time in the McCall home over the years, she had no trouble knowing where she was going now. By the time he managed to shake off some of his surprise and turn back into his living room, Kelly stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes positively blazing.
“Seriously?” she said, her voice strained, almost yelling as she spied his half-drunk beer bottle. “What are you, a day drinker now?”
“Um, hi, Kelly,” he said slo
wly, shaking his head as if he could rattle things into making some sense. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Who said anything about nice, Carson?” she spat, her face growing redder by the second. An angry Peterson woman wasn’t anything to take lightly, he knew that well enough, and Kelly looked mad enough to explode any second now.
Only he didn’t have the first idea why.
“I’m not a day drinker, Kel,” he tried again, putting on a sheepish grin that she didn’t return. “It’s just been a weird couple of days. Don’t tell me you’ve never kicked back with a brew to relax.”
“A weird couple days, huh?” She laughed bitterly, ignoring his attempts at civility in favor of the mission she had clearly come on. “Are you serious? You ruin my sister’s life—not once, but twice—and all you can say is it’s been a weird couple of days?” She blew a strand of wayward hair out of her face, a gesture that might have been funny had she not looked so terrifying in her anger. “I don’t know what she sees in you, Carson.” She shook her head and added, “You’re so far below her league, it’s not even funny.”
“Stop it, Kelly,” he said, his own voice beginning to rise, although more out of hurt and confusion than anything else. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t sure the last time, and this time, I’m completely lost.”
“Of course you are!” she shouted, stamping her foot for emphasis, reminding Carson of a kid on the verge of throwing a truly epic tantrum. “It’s one of your defining characteristics, isn’t it? It was bad enough that you left her knocked up when you guys were in high school—worse when you didn’t even send a card after the miscarriage, but at least you had being young as an excuse. Now you’ve gone and gotten her pregnant again, after everything I said, and you’re still leaving? It’s like you’re pathological or something!”
