The Nine-Month Marriage

by Christine Rimmer

  “Abby?” Cash was frowning at her. “You in there?”

  She shook herself. “Uh, yeah. And let’s not go out. I’ll just whip something up, why don’t I?”

  He stared at her. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could have sworn you just said you’d rather cook something yourself than eat out.”

  “That’s exactly what I said.” She turned for the kitchen. “Sit down and relax. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  She found linguine and a can of clam sauce in the cupboard. And there was lettuce and a lone tomato in the crisper. And frozen Pepperidge Farm garlic bread in the freezer. So they had pasta, salad and bread.

  It wasn’t that difficult. And when they sat down to eat, the linguine was only slightly beyond al dente.

  “Are you turning domestic on me?” Cash teased.

  Even with Tess’s feminine perfection taunting her, Abby wasn’t willing to go that far. “It’s the nesting instinct. It’ll pass.”

  Later, as they were going to bed, she decided that the time had come to tell him. “Cash?”

  He pulled back the covers and slid in beside her. “Yeah?” He canted up on an elbow to look at her, since she was sitting against the headboard.

  “Well, I…”

  And before she could say another word, a memory rose up to taunt her; a memory of something that had happened years ago.

  It had been at a dance. A Fourth of July dance, out in Medicine Creek Park.

  Abby could picture the bandstand, with loops of red, white and blue bunting tacked to the sides—and the dance floor, its railings draped in red, white and blue, as well. Overhead, the summer stars gleamed like sequins on a midnight blue gown. The weather had been warm and humid, unusual for Wyoming. Folks had remarked on the heat. Their faces had glistened with sweat when they danced.

  And Abby had been eight years old.

  She could almost see herself now, in blue jeans and pigtails, standing on the sidelines, clapping along to a Bob Wills song, watching her mom and dad as they danced….

  Chapter Ten

  The child, Abby, stood by the bandstand, watching her mother and father as they whirled around the floor.

  She felt good watching them, because they were smiling at each other, smiles with love in them. Sometimes Abby could feel a coldness between her mother and father. She felt a coldness inside herself when that happened. A fear that her world, her life, might go bad somehow. That everything could change and there would be no one to love her and take care of her.

  But at times like this, when her mom and dad looked at each other and something warm and private happened between them, Abby knew that her world was safe. She could smile and feel good and not worry about anything.

  The band started playing another song, a faster one. Abby clapped her hands and stomped her feet as the dancers moved faster, up and down the floor, laughing and breathing hard, their faces shiny with sweat.

  Abby looked around. Where was Cash? Cash would dance with her and it would be such fun. A few moments ago, she’d seen him dancing with Marianne Bowers, but now Marianne was dancing with Bart Crowley and Cash was nowhere to be seen.

  Abby turned from the bandstand and the circle of light that glowed from the lanterns strung overhead. She took the trail that led down to the bank of Medicine Creek, which ran along one side of town and after which the town had been named. Down by the creek it was cooler, but moisture still made the air seem thick, as if you could taste it while you were breathing it. Frogs croaked in the darkness and the cottonwoods and willows grew thick and shadowy, hanging over the burbling stream and the trail. It was kind of creepy, but Abby could handle it. She could hear the music from the bandstand behind her. And if she looked back, she could see the gleam of the lanterns lighting up the night. She wouldn’t get lost or anything, no danger of that.

  Up ahead, she heard voices. She froze on the trail for a moment, listening. A man and a woman, she felt pretty sure. When she started walking again, she walked more carefully, trying not to snap any branches, not to make any noise. She was sneaking, really. And she probably shouldn’t. But she did it anyway.

  The voices stopped suddenly, but Abby knew where they had been coming from: a little picnic area on a clear spot above the trail. Abby slid in behind a clump of willows to see who it was.

  She saw Nate and Meggie May Kane. Nate had come home again for one of his visits a few days before. He had a bandage on his hand, where the bull he’d ridden in the rodeo that day had stomped him. Nate liked to tempt fate by riding in the Powder River Roundup every year. That was what Abby’s mom said. Just this morning, she had told him, “You just have to tempt fate, don’t you, Nathan Bravo? You’ll break your fool neck one of these days.”

  Nate was leaning against the picnic table in the middle of the clear spot. He had his arms around Meggie May and she was pressed up real close to him, closer than dancing, that was for sure. Their mouths were all mooshed up together in a kiss. A very private kind of kiss. One that went on for a long, long time. The white bandage on Nate’s hand seemed to gleam in the darkness, like the lanterns back at the dance, as he held Meggie May so tight against him.

  Abby knew she shouldn’t be watching. But she just stayed crouched there, behind the willows, watching anyway.

  Finally, Meggie May pulled back. She looked up at Nate. “I mean it, Nate. I love you. And I will always love you.”

  Nate took Meggie May by the arms. He pushed her back from him and stared down at her. “Give me a break,” he said.

  Abby could see his face pretty well. He had on his mean look, the look he gave people when he wanted to be safe from them.

  “Nate.” Meggie May sounded like she might start crying. “Please…”

  “Look.” Nate held Meggie May farther away than before. “If you want a good time, fine. But you shouldn’t have followed me out here for anything else. Because you’re never gonna get anything else from me.”

  Meggie didn’t say anything for a minute after that. Abby discovered she was holding her breath. Very carefully, she let it out and then started breathing, real quiet, again.

  Meggie stepped back. And Nate dropped his hands.

  Meggie said, her voice all tight sounding, “I guess I always thought that if I told you, it would make a difference.”

  Nate made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Well, now you know. It doesn’t make one damn bit of difference. Not to me, anyway.”

  Meggie started backing up, toward the slope that led down to the trail. She went past Abby’s hiding place and took a few more steps backward. Then she whirled around and started running, off down the trail toward the lights and the music.

  Abby turned back to watch Nate again. She thought he looked sad. He took a cigarette from the pocket of his shirt and lighted it, the match flaring, blinding Abby a little, so she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Nate was just leaning there, against the picnic table, smoking.

  Abby heard a sound on the trail. And Cash came out into the clear spot. Abby’s heart lifted up high in her chest, in that happy feeling she always got at the sight of him. She almost leaped from her hiding place and grabbed him to come dance with her.

  But then she realized that if she did that, Nate and Cash would both know she’d been spying and sneaking. So she stayed crouched in the willows.

  “You seen Abby?” Cash asked. “Edna wants her.”

  Nate shook his head and blew out smoke.

  Cash went over and hoisted himself onto the picnic table, a little ways from Nate, with his boots on the long bench. “Got a smoke?”

  Nate gave him one and held up a match. This time Abby closed her eyes before it flared.

  Cash blew out smoke. “Meggie May almost ran me down on the trail. She didn’t look happy.”

  Nate grunted. “Am I gonna get a lecture here, Cousin?”

  “She was crying.”

  “She’s better off crying than if she
’d stayed here with me. We both know that.”

  “Maybe you should give her a chance,” Cash said.

  Nate threw back his head and laughed a mean laugh. Then he turned so he was looking straight at Cash. “Don’t give me advice, Cash. Not about getting serious over some woman, anyway. I’m never getting serious over a woman.” Nate leaned closer to Cash. “And you understand that. Because even though you treat them so much nicer than I do, you’re just like me. If some female wants to get rid of you, all she’s gotta do is start sayin’ how she loves you. And you will be gone.”

  Cash and Nate stared at each other, then Cash nodded. “You know, Cousin, you’re brighter than you look.”

  Nate didn’t say anything; he just went on smoking.

  Cash got down from the table. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his boot. “Help me find the pint-size, will you, before Edna gets to worrying?”

  “Sure.” Nate ground out his cigarette, too. Then they went off down the trail together.

  As soon as Abby was sure they were gone, she jumped up and ran the opposite way. She took the higher path, and she was back among the lights and the people a few minutes before the Bravo cousins got there.

  Her mother got mad. “Where have you been, Abigail? I’ve been worried sick.”

  Abby lied and said she’d just walked on the high path for a ways. But in her mind, she was remembering the lesson she’d learned.

  She should never say “I love you” to Cash. Or he would go away.

  “Abby?”

  Cash was grinning up at her, still leaning on his elbow in their bed.

  “Hmm?” She brought herself back to the present and put on a smile for him.

  “What?” he asked.

  She frowned.

  He reached up and pulled on her hair, a teasing little tug. “You were going to say something?”

  She couldn’t do it. Not right now. She just could not do it. She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Really. Nothing at all.”

  He put his hand on the hard mound of her belly, a possessive, tender gesture. She put her hand over his.

  “Come on down here,” he said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  She scrunched down and turned to her side. He helped her with her pillows and then he wrapped himself around her back.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, after they’d lain there silent in the dark for a while.

  “Sure. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem…”

  She reached behind her and patted his hip. “I’m fine. G’night.”

  He pulled her closer. A few minutes later, she could tell by his breathing that he had dropped off. It took her considerably longer to get to sleep.

  After that, it became a kind of game Abby played with herself. She knew she should tell Cash about her feelings, about wanting to make their temporary marriage a lifetime thing. But somehow, every time she was just about to do it, she found an excuse to back out.

  And there were plenty of excuses to be had. Cash was forever leaving and coming back. He had his deals to make, but he seemed to want to be near her as much as possible as the time that the baby would be born approached. So she never knew, when she left for classes in the morning, whether he would be there or not when she returned. How could she plan a serious talk with him when she couldn’t even be sure if he’d be there to listen to what she had to say?

  Also, her end-of-semester workload kept her hopping. Finals seemed to be coming at her like a speeding train. And she kept thinking about Tess, the perfect woman, who just might be in love with Cash. So she expended more effort than usual in taking care of the apartment and keeping the refrigerator stocked. Plus, she wanted to Christmas-shop. And she did. She bought several gifts for her mother and Zach and Nate and that little girl of Tess’s. And, of course, for Cash. Somehow, she managed to get them all wrapped, as well.

  But something had to give. She ended up missing one of her scheduled visits to Dr. McClary, her Boulder obgyn. When she called and he fit her in two days later, he said her blood pressure was somewhat elevated. He made her stay for hours, to check it again and to run urine and blood tests. Then she had to come back the next day so he could tell her that her tests had turned out fine.

  “Everything looks pretty good,” he said. “We found nothing to worry about in the blood work. And no traces of protein in the urine, which might point to PIH. Are you familiar with that term?”

  She nodded. “I think they talked about it in our child-birth class. It’s like toxemia, isn’t it?”

  “Pregnancy-induced hypertension. And yes, it is what we used to call toxemia or preeclampsia. Basically, it’s late-pregnancy high blood pressure and it’s nothing to fool around with. Right now, your blood pressure is within the safe range. But it’s higher than it has been, and so it’s something to watch. I think the best thing you could do at this point would be to reduce your salt intake as much as possible, get plenty of rest and carefully monitor your stress level. By that I mean, cut out anything that puts pressure on you.”

  She gave him a look of great patience. “I’ll be even more careful than I have been about salt. But as far as the rest of it, well, my finals are in one week.”

  He shook his head. “You are having a baby, Mrs. Bravo, and very soon now. I understand that you are young and strong and that you imagine you can handle anything. But maybe you should consider taking those finals at some later date.”

  “In a pig’s eye, Dr. McClary.”

  He chuckled at that and then grew serious once more. “Take it easy, please. I want that blood pressure back down nice and low again the next time I see you.”

  “But this is my last visit,” she reminded him. “Remember? I’ll be going home in a week and a half. I already have my next appointment scheduled with my doctor in Medicine Creek.”

  Dr. McClary frowned. “Where is this Medicine Creek, now?”

  “Northern Wyoming.”

  “That would be a very long trip for you at this point in your pregnancy.”

  “Dr. McClary, I am going home as soon as my finals are through, and that’s that.”

  The doctor looked at her over the top of the half glasses he wore. “On your way out, check in with Annie at the reception desk to make an appointment for next week.”

  “But—”

  “There’s no harm in being too careful. When I see you then, we’ll discuss your flight to Medicine Creek.”

  “But I’m not going to fly. My husband won’t let me. We’re driving. That should be safe, right?”

  “Probably,” he said grudgingly. “But I’d still like to see you before you go.”

  Abby restrained a sigh. Just what she needed—something else to do next week.

  Dr. McClary was still talking. “Also, you have some swelling now, around your ankles especially. And that’s normal. But you’re to call me immediately if you get any swelling in the hands or face, blurred vision or headaches.”

  Abby promised that she would contact his office if any strange symptoms appeared. Then she went out and told the receptionist that she’d give her a call as soon as she had a chance to check her schedule for next week.

  At home, Abby hit the books good and hard. Cash asked her how her visit to Dr. McClary had gone. She lifted her cheek for his kiss and muttered, “Fine,” thinking that she had to remember to call and schedule that last appointment. Then she went back to her studying.

  The next week, she took her finals. She felt she did well on them, though she wouldn’t know for sure until she received her grades. By December 21, she was done with school. She went to the registrar’s office and told them she wouldn’t be back until next fall. They agreed to mail her a copy of her transcript as soon as the new grades were posted.

  She and Cash were packing for the trip back home when Annie, Dr. McClary’s receptionist, called. Abby remembered at that moment that she’d never made that last appointment. She apologized profusely and then asked Annie to reassure the doc
tor that she was fine and had an appointment scheduled with her Medicine Creek doctor on the twenty-sixth, just a few days away.

  “I’ll need to speak with the doctor before I let you go,” Annie said. “Please hold.”

  Abby waited, then Dr. McClary came on the line. He asked her several questions and then, reasonably satisfied with the answers, instructed her to stop every hour on the trip home to rest and stretch her legs. Abby promised that she would.

  She hung up and looked around at the apartment. There were boxes everywhere. When they left this time, they wouldn’t be back. Cash had already made arrangements for the sale of the furniture. And the few things they wanted to keep that wouldn’t fit in the Blazer would be shipped back to the house in Medicine Creek.

  Though Abby wanted to go home, she felt a little sad about leaving. She’d enjoyed the life that she and Cash had shared in the apartment. It felt more like her own home than the big house in Medicine Creek. To her, that house always felt like Cash’s house alone. True, she liked the house. She liked the design and the decor, she and Cash had similar tastes. But it wasn’t her house, not in any way. Cash had built it and chosen the furnishings years before. He had a cook and housekeeper who kept the place ready for him whenever he wanted it. To Abby, in some ways, that house didn’t seem much different from the hotels they had stayed in together.

  Here, it was another story. Here, she’d chosen most of the furniture herself. And she’d done good work here on her studies. She’d even learned to cook a few simple dishes in the tiny kitchen—thanks to the inspiration provided by her silly jealousy of Tess DeMarley. In this apartment, she and Cash had really lived as a married couple. Remembering their lives together here, Abby could almost tell herself that their marriage was a secure, permanent thing.

  Abby lowered herself to the sofa, groaning a little at the effort it took her now to do something so simple as sitting down. Just as she got settled, Cash appeared from the bedroom, carrying a packing box. He lugged it over to the door and left it there to take out to the Blazer when the time came to load up. When he turned for the bedroom again, he smiled at Abby—a tender smile. Then he came over to her and dropped down next to her, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa behind her. With a sigh, she leaned her head into his shoulder.