"Where's the fire?" He reached for Georgie, and the little girl went into his arms with complete trust. "She's too heavy for you to carry."
"Mary's having the baby."
"Now?"
"So she says. Get Reese."
He ignored her and stepped inside. One look at Mary and he set Georgie on her feet so he could pick up her mother.
"Nate Lang, put me down. I can walk."
"Not today. You had Georgie quicker than spit. I'm not letting you drop this one on my living room floor. Jo, get Reese."
The urgency in his eyes made her run. "Slow down!" he shouted. "I don't need two of you in labor."
She smiled as she walked very fast to the schoolhouse. Maybe he did care, at least a little.
Jo opened the door. Reese sat at his desk, listening solemnly to the first year students recite. She would never get used to the sight of a gunman in the teacher's chair. To this day he wore black like an outlaw, although he did leave his guns at home.
He glanced up, his smile of welcome fading when she said, "It's Mary."
"Class dismissed," he snapped as he ran down the aisle and brushed past her.
By the time they arrived, Mary was settled in her own bed; Eden and Lily came in right after.
"Cherie, when I heard the reverend was carrying you through town I knew it must be time."
"Don't you have a show tonight?" Eden asked.
"Johnny can play. I would rather be here."
"I don't—need—an audience," Mary snarled between breaths.
"But everything is more fun among friends, no?"
Mary just glared. She no longer had breath for anything else.
The labor proceeded quickly. Mary did not believe in wasting time. But as a result, her pain appeared harsher. As she struggled with the contractions and blood seeped onto the sheets, Jo became light headed, an embarrassing encumbrance when she was expected to help.
"Jo, you catch the baby. I'll help her push," Eden ordered.
"And what shall I do?" Lily asked.
"Look pretty," Mary sneered.
Lily smiled serenely. "I knew I'd be good for something."
Swallowing her nausea, refusing to give power to her dizziness, Jo did as she'd been told. One glimpse at the crown of the baby's head and Jo fainted.
* * *
"Nate! Get in here!"
The panic in Eden's voice made all four men leap to their feet. Terror washed over Reese's face, and he started for the bedroom. Both Sullivan and Rico grabbed an arm; he fought them. "Let me go! She needs me."
"She does not need you now, mi capitan. She needs Nate."
"I want to be there." He glanced at Nate, a plea in his eyes.
Nate didn't want to deny Reese anything, but he'd been through this situation a few times before. "You'll only be in the way."
He started from the room, but Reese tore free of the others and put a hand against Nate's chest to stop him. "Promise me she'll be all right."
Nate could not recall ever seeing Reese so frightened. A man who could face unbelievable odds with a smirk, who had ridden head on into death a hundred times and never batted an eye, had been brought to trembling panic by a woman, something Nate could easily understand. He wanted to soothe his friend's fears, but he had never been able to lie to James Reese.
"I can't promise that."
Reese hung his head. "God, Nate, she's... she's—" he choked and could not go on.
"She's the world. I know. I'll do everything I can."
Nate glanced at Sullivan and Rico. They led Reese back to the sofa. "Don't let him get drunk," he murmured.
Drinking at a time like this only made things worse. He ought to know.
"Nate! Merde! I trip over men when I do not need one, but need one and where has he gone?" Lily appeared in the doorway. "Get in there!"
The urgency in her face made Nate run. Lily rarely got excited about anything.
She murmured something Nate couldn't catch, and Reese muttered, "Oh, thank God," seconds before a baby cried.
Confused, Nate stepped into the room to discover Eden delivering a perfectly healthy baby girl with his wife stretched out unconscious on the floor.
"What the—"
"She fainted," Eden said briskly. "Luckily, Lily was being decorative, so she was available to catch her."
Nate went down on one knee and touched Jo's pale, pale face. "Why would she faint?"
"I don't know, but you'd better find out. She's been too quiet lately by far. And Jo is not the fainting type."
The fear that had been on Reese's face now invaded Nate's heart. Though he'd promised himself he would not touch the child, the important thing right now was Jo.
Nate put both hands on the large mound of her belly. Pressing here and there, he could feel feet, elbows, hands, or maybe a head. After a few moments of poking, he was rewarded with a firm and somewhat annoyed kick against his wrist.
His sigh of relief brought Eden near. "All right?"
"For now." He scooped his wife into his arms. She was a lot heavier than the last time he'd carried her. "If you can handle things, we'll be on our way."
"I've handled everything just fine so far," Mary muttered. Pale and sweaty, she still glowed as only a new mother could. The tiny bundle in her hands squirmed, and she pulled it tighter against her. "Can you send James in?"
"I'm already here."
Nate glanced at his friend. Love shone in Reese's green eyes brighter than any emerald. He crossed the room and sat on the bed, kissing Mary thoroughly, then taking the baby from her arms. "She's beautiful."
"I know." Mary's eyes filled with tears, and she buried her head against Reese's chest. Eden motioned for Nate to precede her out the door.
Right before it closed he heard Reese murmur, "How does Virginia Josephine Reese sound?"
Nate smiled. Jo would like that.
He looked into her face. She was too pale and too still. He wasn't sure what he could do for her, but whatever it was, he planned to do it at home.
Nate strode through the house, out the door and down the street. People called out questions.
"It's a girl," he answered. "Healthy and strong. They've named her Virginia."
The same people gave Jo curious stares, but when he shook his head, they didn't question why his wife was sleeping in his arms in the middle of the day.
By the time he'd reached their house, Jo began to stir. In their room, he undressed her like a child and like a child he tucked her into bed. Unable to resist, he kissed her brow and murmured, "Sleep, Just Jo."
She came completely aware with a gasp. "The baby?" Her hands went to her middle.
"Kicks like a wild pony. Relax. You want to tell me what happened back there?"
Instead of answering, she caught at his shoulders, clung to him tightly. "Stay with me."
Before he could remember his vow to keep his distance, Nate had gathered her into his arms, only to discover her trembling. "What's the matter? Are you ill? You need to tell me so I can help you."
"I'm fine. Just promise you won't leave me when the baby's born."
His heart dropped all the way to his toes. Nate extricated himself from Jo's embrace and stood. "You think I'd walk out on you? If I was going to do that, Jo, I'd have done it the second you told me you were pregnant."
He shouldn't be angry. He'd given her little cause to trust him, especially of late, and to be honest, he did not know if he could stay with her forever. He wasn't sure if staying was in him or fair to her. But he'd remain through the birth and beyond a while. He owed her that much.
"No!" She struggled to sit up, and he struggled not to help her. If he touched her now he'd lose the anger, and then he'd just want to cry. "You misunderstood. I meant I want you to be with me while the baby's born. Don't stay out of the room like most men do. I'll need you then."
The doubts he'd hidden in his own heart these last few weeks bubbled to the surface. He had been in the room with Angela, and he'd been unable
to do anything nothing but watch her die.
"You won't need me. You'll do fine." His words were too eager. He heard their desperation.
Her mouth quivered and she fell back on the pillows. Nate frowned. Such behavior wasn't like her at all.
He sat on the bed once more, and she grabbed his hand in a punishing grip. "If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell anyone else?"
"A secret, Just Jo?" He made his voice light because his fear was so dark. "Since when?"
"Promise?"
"Of course."
"I'm scared, Nate," she whispered. "So very, very scared."
Jo wasn't scared of anything except lizards, and that fear had always made her seem human. No one was as fearless as Jo Clancy. But maybe now that she was Jo Lang she had a whole lot more to worry about.
"What are you scared of?"
"Dying."
He jolted as if he'd been doused with an entire bucket of icy water. Thirteen years fell away and he was reading a letter from Angela on a battlefield in Godforsaken, Tennessee.
I'm scared of dying, she'd written, and he'd raced all the way home, a deserter if anyone had cared to press the issue, only to find Angela's fears had been warranted.
Jo stared at him now, expecting him to make everything all right. What could he say? Why would Jo be afraid of dying when she knew, in her heart, that she would go to God?
Unless his lack of belief had rocked her faith. Impossible. True faith could not be rocked by mere words. Only deeds could do that—or a multitude of unanswered prayers.
Nate pushed aside his own problems. Funny, they were still there even though he'd forgotten about them as he went about doing a job he'd once loved and discovered he loved it still, even without his faith.
"Haven't you been telling me there's a better place for those who believe?"
"There is. But I don't want to leave you."
She began to sob, a heartbroken sound that truly scared him. He'd heard some women became hysterical and irrational during pregnancy. Of course, he'd never expected such a thing out his calm, rational wife.
"Honey, you aren't going to die for a long, long time. By then, you'll be glad to see the last of me."
She took several hitching watery breaths and swallowed. "What if I die with the baby?"
Nate went cold as his most secret, desperate fear came to life in her words. Could the same thing happen to the same man twice? If there was a God, perhaps that would be His idea of a joke, or a punishment. But since there wasn't, perhaps it was fate's version of a curse. Nate had figured out long ago that he was doomed. But he really needed to quit taking the people he cared about along with him.
"You know how many women die in childbirth, Nate. My mother died when I was born. It's silly, but I can't make the fear go away. It just gets worse and worse the bigger I get. I never worried about dying before. When it's my time, it's my time." Her lip trembled. "But before, I never had you."
She crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing in like a frightened bunny. She couldn't get very close because of the baby, and that alone made his mouth go dry with fearsome memories. Angela had been small like Jo and his baby far too big.
"I don't want to leave you," she repeated.
"And I don't want to be left."
"Then you'll stay with me? If you're there, nothing bad will happen."
"That's irrational, Jo."
"It isn't. You saved Reese and Cash and a whole slew of others. You'll take care of me." She pressed his palm to her belly. "You'll take care of us. I have faith in you."
As if to agree, the baby thumped against Nate's palm. He wanted to pull away, to run away. Because touching her, touching the child, made him dizzy and very, very thirsty. But the way Jo was shaking, as if she were freezing even though her skin felt on fire, he could not leave her.
"Please say you'll stay with me. Please, Nate."
Nate ran through a repertoire of curse words in his head. Angela had thought he could save her too. She'd been as wrong about that as she'd been about marrying him in the first place.
In the end, he could not deny Jo something she wanted so desperately. "I'll stay."
She went limp in his arms. He tucked her head beneath his chin and rocked her to and fro. Moments later she slept, but Nate continued to sit on the bed and hold her, even as despair tried to take possession of his sense and pull him back into the darkness.
He had not thought this through. He'd married Jo to keep her safe, taken this job to give her a home, made love to her over and over again because she wanted him to, and who was he to argue? But he hadn't thought past the moment—nothing new for a man who did not believe in eternity.
He refused to fall in love with her. He had sworn never to love anyone again. His love brought only death–if not during this labor then during another. He wouldn't be able to keep himself from touching Jo any more than he'd been able to keep himself from touching Angela, despite the warnings. So if the baby was fine and Jo was fine, he would leave. Perhaps that would be fit punishment for his sins.
Jo cared for him. But she'd never mentioned love, and Jo was not the type to hide what she felt. If she loved him, it would make what he had to do so much harder.
Jo asked for so little, and he'd given her even less. If she wanted him at the lying in, he would be there. If history repeated itself, as history had a way of doing—especially around him—he'd do what needed to be done, and then he'd do what he'd been playing at for far too long.
He wished Jo had not given his suicide pistols to the Comanche. But there were plenty of ways to die.
He only had to choose one.
Chapter 18
Autumn arrived late with a blue norther that swept in on a Sunday evening in early November and left behind a chill for every dawn and every dusk.
Nate had changed again. Not that he'd suddenly declared undying love and started rubbing Jo's belly and knitting booties. But he slept by her side, and he held her when she awoke with tears drying on her cheeks and fear pulsing in her blood.
He'd said they could no longer have sex because of the baby, and she missed the slide of his skin against hers with a hunger that shocked her. When he'd touched her that way, he'd touched more than her body. He'd touched her heart, and for a while she'd hoped she might touch his. Or at least the baby might. But he seemed as oblivious to their child as her father had once been to her.
He wouldn't stay after the birth. She couldn't blame him. He'd been forced into this marriage, and while Jo wanted him here forever, she wouldn't beg. Nor would she admit how desperately she loved him, because his guilt might make him remain when he really wanted to go.
She thought back to her high hopes of a marriage and family based on friendship. Had she ever been that young and foolish? Amazing what a few months and a baby on the way could do for such notions.
Her terror did not go away no matter how hard she prayed, no matter how many stern lectures she gave herself. As her time crept closer and closer, and her baby grew larger and larger, her heart crept higher and higher into her throat.
Sometimes she'd catch Nate staring at her with an expression akin to horror. She must appear as if she'd swallowed several pumpkins whole, and she was surprised he could even bear to live in the same house with her.
There came a night when Jo's nightmares were unrelenting, yet Nate held her close and soothed her until she slept again. However, the next time she awoke with her heart beating far too fast and the baby kicking her with sharp, tiny heels, she was alone.
She found Nate in the kitchen with a bottle and glass. She could tell by the set of his shoulders and the scent of the room he wasn't just looking at that whiskey.
"Oh, Nate," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
He tossed back what was left of his shot before turning her way. "Why would you be sorry?"
"You haven't had a drink since Soledad. My silliness has upset you."
"Why do you take everything on yourself?
Whiskey has always been my weakness." He poured another shot. "And you're wrong. This isn't the first drink I've had since Soledad."
Jo blinked. That was news to her. Perhaps he'd been imbibing all along, just less than usual. He'd always been able to fake sobriety better than anyone she'd ever known.
"When I came home from that last job with Cash..." He picked up the glass, but he didn't drink. Instead he rolled the liquid around and around, staring at it as if he could find the answers to everything within. "I discovered shooting people while I was sober was beyond me."
"And that's bad?"
"For a gunman it is."
"You're not a gunman."
"At the moment." He sipped, and his sigh of pleasure was like a kick to Jo's middle—from the outside instead of inside this time. She'd thought she was fighting the memory of his wife, but had she been fighting the booze all along?
Jo resisted the urge to knock the glass from his hand and the bottle from the table. She did not know what else she could give him to replace such a craving. If a job, a home, a family, her very life would not tempt him from self-destruction, perhaps he could not be saved. However, Jo wasn't ready to give up on him yet.
"When I returned to Rock Creek that night," he continued, "I'd decided to go back to the way things had been. It was easier, and I've always been one for the easy way."
"What stopped you?"
"You, Just Jo. You needed me."
"And I don't now?"
"Not more than I need this." He took another sip. "When things get tough, I get drunk. It was only a matter of time."
"You've drank twice in eight months. Considering your history, that's something to celebrate, not bemoan."
"Hear, hear." He lifted his glass and drank. "Did you know I had a secret supply, Josephine?"
He ran a long, supple finger down the neck of the bottle. She recalled his running that finger and many others over her. Jo hugged herself against the chill his voice brought to her skin. He was once again the man she'd found in Soledad, and he frightened her.
So many months of abstinence, shared bed, shared work, shared life, and in the space of an instant, he'd gone back to the way he had been before.
Nate (The Rock Creek Six) Page 20
