The Nine-Month Marriage

by Christine Rimmer

  She dropped the wounded act and gave him that straight-on, will-to-will look she had perfected over two decades of unremitting practice. “We are going. And that’s that.”

  “No, Abby.” He spoke firmly, to show her he could not be swayed on this. “We’re not.”

  Chapter Nine

  They flew back to Wyoming on Wednesday evening and spent the night at the house in Medicine Creek. Then, early in the morning, they drove out to the ranch in the Jeep Cherokee that Cash kept next to his Cadillac in the garage.

  It was a cold, clear morning. Abby looked out the window of the Jeep at the rolling prairie land. To the east, from the higher points in the road, the fields seemed to go on forever, overlapping ridges and draws, rising to distant hills somewhere at the ends of the earth. But to the west, rising starkly, black and tipped with blinding white, the Big Horns loomed high, rough and proud, wreathed in feathery gray clouds.

  Abby felt good for a woman who was as big as a cow, and pleased to be headed for her favorite place in the world. All the grass in the pasturelands had gone dusty brown months before. Abby watched it bend before a strong wind, rippling away toward the mountains. White patches of snow from a recent storm dotted the land, giving back a glare in the bright sun that made Abby squint. A line of fence ran along the ridge above the road and Abby spotted a sage grouse, scared from cover by some unseen predator. Its plump body rose from the ground in a flutter of gray wings, then dropped back to earth, bomberlike, not far from where it had taken flight.

  She glanced at Cash. Sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head. He smiled, and she knew he’d forgiven her for keeping at him relentlessly until he gave in and brought her home.

  Her mother came out of the house when they pulled up beneath the big Russian olive tree that grew in the center of the yard. The wind that had bent the brown grass of the prairie now whipped the skirt of Edna’s Sunday-best wool dress around her legs. Abby felt satisfaction at the sight of her. She looked better each time Abby saw her, both stronger and happier, too. She was healing—from her illness and from the loss of Ty. Abby grinned to herself. Clearly, living with Tess DeMarley suited Edna—far better than living with her own daughter ever had.

  Cash shoved open his door and headed for the porch. But Abby hung back, in the warmth of the Jeep, looking at the house, loving everything about it, from the shingles on the side-gabled roof to the four double-hung windows on the full-width front porch. Ross Bravo had built the house more than forty years ago, after a string of good years when beef prices had run high and the snowpack had measured deep. Before then, he and his wife, Matty, had lived in what was now the foreman’s cottage, across the yard. Ross’s daddy, the first John Bravo, had built the foreman’s cottage sixty-five years past. Until then, John, his wife, Belinda, and their son had lived in the small, dark homesteader’s cabin. John’s father, Matt, had built that cabin back when the Bravos had laid claim to the first acres that would become the Rising Sun. It still stood on the other side of the horse pasture, behind the barn.

  On the porch, Cash and Edna waited for her. Abby got out of the Jeep and approached her mother with her arms out. Edna smiled and opened her own arms.

  “Abigail,” Edna said in her ear as they hugged—rather awkwardly, because of the size of Abby’s stomach. “Oh, this is so good. To have you both home.” Then she stood back. “My, my. You are getting…”

  “Huge?” Abby supplied helpfully, and then shivered as a gust of frigid wind whipped around the corner of the porch and sliced right through her heavy sweater and pregnant-lady stirrup pants.

  “Brrr,” Edna said. “Let’s get inside before we all freeze.”

  In the late afternoon, they sat down to the feast Tess had prepared. Zach had spent the morning out checking tubs—fifty-gallon barrels cut in half and filled with a molasses-based mineral mixture meant to supplement the cattle’s diet of pasture grasses. He’d taken Tess’s daughter, Jobeth, along with him. The six-year-old was pink cheeked and excited at having been included in the work of the ranch.

  “Those tubs looked pretty good, don’t you think, Zach?”

  “Yep.” He smiled at Jobeth. “Still pretty full.”

  She beamed down the table at him, worshipful, but restrained.

  “This is wonderful, Tess,” Edna said.

  And it was. Abby looked up and down the long table in amazement. Even Edna, in her heyday, had never whipped up such a spread. The huge turkey was golden brown, and a steaming bowl of bread-and-chestnut stuffing sat beside it. The mashed potatoes looked as fluffy as clouds, the yams temptingly sweet under a drizzle of brown-sugar sauce. Tess had provided three kinds of green vegetables: steamed squash, peas and a broccoli casserole baked with cheese that set the mouth watering with its delicious scent. She had also set out two kinds of cranberry sauce, savory creamed onions, so many different pickled things that Abby couldn’t count them all, a couple of yummy-looking gelatin molds and a tray of crudités, with the radishes cut to look like flowers and the carrots and celery all sliced at an attractive slant. Abby found it truly impressive, and regretted that in recent weeks the baby seemed to have pressed her stomach into a tiny corner beneath her ribs, leaving her appetite seriously impaired.

  The two ranch hands, Tim Cally and Lolly Franzen, both murmured how good it all looked. It was Rising Sun tradition that the hands ate with the family on holidays if they didn’t have somewhere else they wanted to go.

  Cash took a bite of dressing. “Incredible,” he said.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Tess replied.

  Something in Tess’s tone stopped Abby in the process of sampling the yams. Abby glanced at her mother’s housemate. Tess was looking at Cash, a look that didn’t last more than a split second. Cash himself hadn’t seen it; his attention was on his plate.

  But Abby saw it.

  And knew what it meant.

  It was the look Cash’s old girlfriend had given him in Vegas. Yearning. Adoring. And hopeless.

  Gentle Tess was in love with Cash. Abby set down her fork, what appetite she’d had a moment before suddenly fled. It was so obvious! How could she not have known before? Abby slanted another glance at Tess, who held out that wonderful broccoli casserole to Zach. Jealousy poked at Abby, a sharp, mean little jab. Tess was lovely, so slim and sweet—and so accomplished in all the womanly arts—arts in which Abby had absolutely no interest.

  “I only wish Nate could have come, too,” Edna said wistfully.

  Cash laughed. “He’ll be here for Christmas—just you watch.”

  “You think so?” Edna asked, brightening.

  “Absolutely. Think back. He always makes it for either Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

  “Well, I wish he’d make it for both.”

  Cash shook his head. “If he showed up for both, we might get the idea he can’t stay away.”

  Everybody laughed at that except Tess and her daughter, who hardly knew Nate.

  Cash moved his thigh beneath the table so it brushed against Abby’s. “Hey. You okay?” He indicated her untouched plate.

  She gave him a smile. “You bet.” And she picked up her fork and tackled the bread-and-chestnut stuffing.

  Once they’d all sworn they couldn’t eat another bite, Abby helped Tess clear the table and clean up the dishes. Then they played double-deck pinochle, Abby partnering up with Cash against Zach and Tess. Through the entire evening, Abby watched her husband closely.

  By bedtime, she was positive he didn’t have a clue about Tess’s feelings for him. He treated Edna’s housemate with the good-natured courtesy and warmth he’d always bestowed on the numberless women who had adored him over the years. And no one else seemed to notice what Abby had seen.

  And really, as the evening had progressed, Abby began to suspect she might have only imagined that quick, worshipful glance of Tess’s. Because after that single look, Abby caught no other hint that her mother’s companion might be in love with Cash. Perhaps Abby was just being a paranoid pr
egnant lady and Tess DeMarley hadn’t fallen for Cash at all—except in Abby’s own jealous mind.

  Besides, even if Tess were attracted to Abby’s husband, she would never do anything about it. Because Tess DeMarley was every bit as exemplary a woman as everyone believed her to be.

  And yet, lying in bed in one of the guest rooms later, listening to the wind whip and whistle around the eaves outside, Abby couldn’t stop remembering the way Cash and Tess had laughed and talked together. And she couldn’t help recalling her mother’s warnings—and thinking of the agreement that still hung like a shadow over her relationship with Cash. If both of them didn’t change their minds, in eight more months their marriage would end.

  Every time she let herself think about that, she felt terrible.

  Because she did not want her marriage to end.

  Recently, she’d accepted the truth: she loved her husband—deeply and completely. As a woman loves a man.

  She didn’t know exactly how or when it had happened. Probably that night in the barn—maybe even before that. Lately, she’d begun to suspect that she’d been in love with Cash all her life.

  But that night in the barn had marked the turning point. After that, she’d seen him as a man.

  She’d run off to Boulder and then to Denver, trying to get away from what she felt. And then they’d decided to marry. And she’d starting letting herself get used to her love.

  And now, finally, she could admit it to herself. She didn’t want their marriage to end. She wanted him beside her in the night, across from her at the table, just plain nearby in general, for the rest of their lives.

  “What is it?” Cash asked, out of the darkness beside her. “You keep wiggling around.”

  She felt a surge of her old independence, of irritation at him for having such power over her heart. “Sorry,” she whispered sourly. “I’m just having a real adventure here, trying to sleep with this basketball in my stomach.”

  “Aw, poor baby.”

  He slid closer, fitting himself around her. The hair on his thighs scratched her a little; his hard hips cradled her soft ones. It felt good. So very good. With a finger, he guided a swatch of hair off her neck and put a kiss there.

  “Feel better,” he commanded.

  She snuggled back against him, readjusting the pillow beneath her belly at the same time. “I do.” It was true. Something happened when he cradled her at night. His body seemed to speak of peace to her body. And her body always listened. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.” She felt his breath against her neck as he brushed one more gentle kiss there. “Go to sleep.”

  “I will.”

  And she did.

  They stayed at the ranch through the weekend. It snowed on Saturday, wet snow, the white flakes whirling, making everything look hazy, turning to water the minute they touched down. Abby and Edna stood on the porch together and watched the clouds roll in overhead and the first wet flakes fall. Everyone else, including Jobeth, had gone out with Zach to help move some bred heifers to a pasture nearer the ranch buildings.

  “They’ll all be coming in wet,” Edna said. She had on her coat, and she held her arms tight around her waist, shivering with each gust of icy wind that blew.

  Abby pulled her heavy jacket closer, wrapping it snugly around the bulge of her belly. “They’re having a ball.”

  “You wish you were with them.”

  “How did you guess?” Abby leaned from beneath the porch and caught a soggy snowflake on her tongue. It had melted almost before she felt its coldness. “But Cash wouldn’t let me.” She patted her stomach. “Too far along, he says.” She leaned out once more, welcoming the wet flakes on her upturned face.

  “He’s right,” Edna declared. “There will be time later for moving heifers on a snowy afternoon. And besides, I think it’s lovely the way he cares for you, how much he loves you.”

  When she heard those words, Abby wanted to whirl on her mother and demand, He does love me? Are you sure? How do you know?

  Somehow, she stopped herself. Questions like that would only get her more questions from her mother in return—worried questions, prying questions. Questions to which Abby had no answers anyway.

  She needed to talk to Cash. To tell him she loved him. And to let him know that she, for one, wanted their marriage to last.

  But right now at the ranch, with all the family around, didn’t seem like the right time. She decided to wait. Until they could really be alone, back in Boulder. She didn’t want to think that it might go badly. But just in case it did, they wouldn’t have the family to deal with, too.

  “Let’s go in,” Edna suggested. “I’ll make us some tea.”

  The kettle had started to whistle when they heard the horses and Zach’s pickup in the yard. Abby ran out to meet them.

  Cash’s horse, Reno’s Pride, a big gray gelding and a fine cutting horse, pranced to the side when she grabbed the bridle.

  “Whoa, easy…” Cash soothed the horse. Then he leaned down and gave Abby a kiss. “Miss me?” he asked.

  His lips felt icy against her own. She could smell the melted snow in his clothes and his breath made plumes in the cold air.

  “Desperately,” she told him, with just enough drama that he could think she was only playing.

  Sunday morning, before they went downstairs, Cash actually tried to talk Abby out of returning to Boulder.

  “Hey,” she teased. “Remember? You were the guy who insisted I had to get in one more semester.”

  “That was insane of me. You should have had me locked up. I’m serious. We got back here safely enough. But let’s not tempt fate. It can’t be smart for you to fly now.”

  “The doctor said—”

  “I know what the doctor said. And I don’t care.” He turned to the window and for a moment stood looking out at the gray day and the patches of sludgy snow on the roof of the barn. Then he turned back to her. “You can take the semester over again. Next year.”

  She was putting on one of the giant-sized tunic sweaters she wore all the time now. She smoothed it down over her maternity leggings and marched over to him in stocking feet, thinking of how she’d busted her butt in her investment and portfolio management course. And if she had to take the seminar in financial accounting again, she might just lose her mind. “No. Honestly, Cash. I really think I can get through finals before the baby comes. I feel good, I swear. And I’ve worked so hard….”

  He smoothed a hank of hair out of her eyes. “I know. But—”

  “No, really. I mean it. I want to finish out the semester. I really do.”

  He ran the back of his hand along her cheek and in his eyes she saw such tender concern.

  I love you, she thought. The words sounded so sweet and soft in the back of her mind. She opened her mouth, almost said them….

  But he spoke first. “I don’t think it’s safe.”

  She blinked. And remembered what he was trying to get her to do. “We are going. Today. I am finishing the semester, and that is that.”

  He sucked in a breath, then blew out his cheeks in frustration. “Abby, if you insist on going back, I think we should drive.”

  “Four hundred miles? Excuse me. I will go into premature labor if you put me through that right now.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look. We’ll fly this one last time. And then, before Christmas, when we come home for good, we’ll drive. How’s that?”

  He looked at her steadily. “If we’re going there, we stay there. Until the baby’s born.”

  She smiled at him, a coaxing smile. No way she was staying in Boulder for Christmas. But they didn’t have to go into that right then. “Let’s not worry about that now.”

  “Abby…”

  “Cash…”

  They glared at each other. And then they both laughed. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, so her big stomach bumped against him. Then he kissed her nose. “All right. I don’t like it, but all right.”

  She smoothed the hair a
t his temples, thinking how she loved the little grooves that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. Masculine dimples, that’s what they were. But he would not have appreciated her pointing them out. So she didn’t.

  “I could shoot myself,” he said softly, “for pushing you to go back in the first place. I don’t know what the hell I was using for brains at the time.”

  He looked so worried. And so sweet.

  Again, she almost said it: I love you, Cash.

  But then she heard footsteps, out in the upper hall, and remembered her plan to tell him when they were really alone, when she didn’t have to worry about dealing with anyone else. Best to stick with the plan.

  They went down to breakfast a few minutes later. And a few hours after that, they were on their way to Sheridan to get the Cessna.

  More than once during the flight, Abby started to tell Cash how she felt about him. But somehow, the words never found their way out her mouth. She told herself that she’d be foolish to tell him something so important while he was trying to fly a plane.

  In Denver, it had snowed, too. And a lot of it had stayed on the ground. Abby looked out the window of the Blazer at the soft blanket of white and thought of Christmas, which would be coming up before they knew it.

  At the apartment, Cash carried their suitcases in. Abby headed straight for the thermostat to heat the place up, and from there to the bathroom. It was a funny thing about being pregnant. You spent the first three months bending over the commode, and the last three sitting on it.

  “Do you want to go out to eat?” Cash asked, when she emerged from the bathroom.

  She felt tired from the trip. But still, she wanted to say yes. Abby loved to eat out. It always seemed festive to her—plus, when you ate out, you got fed without having to cook or clean. In Abby’s perfect world, people would either eat out or eat at the houses of other people who actually enjoyed cooking and cleaning.

  People like Tess—who might or might not be in love with Abby’s husband, but, in any case, was exactly the kind of woman most men wanted for their wives.