Soul Deep

by Pamela Clare

  “Sure.” Why not?

  And maybe unicorns would fly through the room in the meantime.

  Fighting hysterical laughter, Janet got back up on the table, lay back, and pushed her leggings down to her hips like Dr. Rivera asked.

  “This will be a little cold.” The doctor put some goo on the end of a small, wand-like probe, then pressed the probe against Janet’s lower abdomen, moving it slowly, pressing it deeper, angling the head of it this way and that.

  Squish. Squish. Squish. Squish.

  “That’s it. That’s your baby’s heartbeat. I’m guessing you’re about nine weeks at this point. You’ll need an ultrasound to be certain, given that we don’t have a date of your last menstrual period.”

  Janet listened to the little sound, stunned to think a baby was growing inside her—Jack’s baby. She hadn’t planned on being a mother, and she knew Jack hadn’t planned on being a father again. Was this really happening?

  “I’m going to put a call in to a high-risk OB. Because of your age, your pelvic injuries, and because of your hyperemesis, you’re going to need to see a high-risk doc. In the meantime, I’m admitting you to St. Anthony’s. Your dizziness is due in part to dehydration and low electrolytes. You need rest and IV fluids and possibly medication.”

  The situation kept getting stranger.

  “You want me to go to the hospital?”

  “You can go home first, if you want, pack a few things together. Head to St. Anthony’s, and go straight to admitting. I’ll call in the admitting orders.”

  Dr. Rivera went on, explaining what hyperemesis gravidarum was and how it was treated, then telling Janet about some of the risks associated with pregnancy in older woman. Janet barely heard what she said, one thought running through her mind.

  How was she going to tell Jack?

  # # #

  Jack grabbed his keys and headed straight to the garage, shouting over his shoulder to Nate. “She didn’t say what was wrong, only that it wasn’t serious. Her doctor wants to admit her for IV fluids and rest. She wants me to meet her at her place and drive her to the hospital.”

  Nate followed him. “Call as soon as you know anything.”

  Jack climbed into the cab of his truck, almost forgetting to raise the garage door before backing out and heading down the road toward the front gate, his mind holding on to one thought: She’d said it wasn’t serious.

  The drive to Denver seemed to take forever, traffic snarling the moment he hit that proverbial pain in the ass known as I-70. He called Janet twice along the way, just to hear her voice and make sure she was okay.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Drive safely, okay?”

  It took almost two hours to reach her house. It felt like an eternity. He parked, walked up the sidewalk, and knocked.

  She opened the door, and he could see she’d been crying. She slipped into his arms, a troubled expression on her face. “We need to talk.”

  He sat on her sofa beside her, held her hand. “I’m listening.”

  “Jack… Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands for a moment, then looked into his eyes. “I’ve decided I’m going to quit my job, retire early.”

  “You’re leaving the FBI?” What did this have to do with her being sick—unless she was really very ill?

  “Yes … because I’m pregnant.”

  Jack heard the thrum of his pulse against his ears. “You’re … what?”

  Had the floor just tilted beneath his feet?

  She burst into tears, words tumbling out of her in a rush. “I know I told you I couldn’t get pregnant, but somehow I did. I thought I was menopausal, but I guess I wasn’t quite yet. The doctor said some women can still ovulate even when they haven’t had a period for almost a year, so I guess that’s what happened, but I swear this wasn’t deliberate. I didn’t try to trick you or—”

  “Hey, come here.” He drew her into his arms, held her. “So, you’re pregnant.”

  She sniffed. “The doctor said I’m about nine weeks.”

  That meant she must have conceived that first week she’d stayed with him.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  Jack held back a surge of elation. Janet hadn’t planned on having children, and given her injuries, he wasn’t sure she could carry a baby safely to term. In the end, what happened next wasn’t his choice to make, but hers.

  “So all of your being sick has been morning sickness?” It certainly had lasted far beyond the morning.

  “I have hyperemesis gravidarum—that’s Latin for ‘too much barfing,’ I think. They want to give me IV fluids and see if I can’t keep some food down.”

  He kissed her hair. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll stand by you.”

  She pulled back, looked up at him. “You’re not angry?”

  He shook his head. “Why on God’s green earth would I be angry that the woman I love is pregnant with our baby?”

  She gave him a tremulous smile, her cheeks wet with tears. “I want to have this baby—if I can. It’s not going to be without risks, but I want to try. I know you weren’t expecting this. Neither was I.”

  Jack couldn’t help but smile, the elation he’d held back finally washing through him. “Out of all the surprises life has sent my way, this is one of the best.”

  She sank against him, wrapped her arms around him. “I was so worried you’d be upset or want me to get rid of it.”

  “Not in a million years.”

  They were going to have a baby together. He was going to be a father. At the age of 63, he was going to be a father again—if all went well.

  “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  # # #

  They checked in at St. Anthony’s twenty minutes later. Jack pushed Janet in a wheelchair to a private room, where a nurse hooked her up to a couple of different IVs. In a matter of minutes, Janet was asleep, clearly exhausted.

  Jack slipped out of the room and into the hallway and dialed Nate’s number. How in the hell was he going to explain this?

  Nate answered on the second ring. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, but… Well, son, she’s pregnant.”

  Nate laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but—”

  “Now, Dad, I thought we already had this talk.” This was followed by more laughter. “I think you breeded Janet like Chinook—”

  “Son, shut your mouth for a minute.” When Jack was satisfied that Nate was listening, he went on. “Because of her age and her injuries, there are a fair number of risks. She’s got hyperemesis gravi… hell, something that makes her throw up a lot, so they’re giving her IV fluids and some drug to stop the nausea.”

  “Poor thing. I hope it helps. Is there any risk to her or the baby right now?”

  “We have a lot of questions, but not many answers yet.”

  “God, I can’t wait to tell Megan.”

  “See that you don’t tell anyone else. I want to put a ring on her finger and walk her down the aisle before word of this gets out so that no one can accuse her of forcing me into marriage or say that I married her just because I got her pregnant.”

  For some reason, this made Nate laugh again. “A father at the age of sixty-four.”

  “I’m sixty-three.”

  “You won’t be by the time the baby arrives.”

  “Shit.” He hadn’t thought of that.

  “Seriously, congratulations, Dad. This baby is very lucky to have you as a father. Trust me on this. I know.”

  Jack’s throat suddenly got tight. “Thanks, son.”

  # # #

  Janet watched the screen, holding fast to Jack’s hand while Dr. Fleming moved the ultrasound probe on her lower belly.

  “There’s your baby.” The doctor pointed to the screen. “That’s its little heart. This big part here is its head. That’s a leg. It’s moving.”

  Janet stared in amazement, barely able to speak. “It’s really real.”

&n
bsp; Until this moment, some part of her expected the doctor to tell her there’d been a mistake and, oh, by the way, she actually had giardia instead.

  But there it was in black and white—their baby.

  She looked up at Jack to find him staring at the screen, a look of amazement on his face. He smiled down at her. “You bet it’s real.”

  “It’s too early to tell the sex, of course,” Dr. Fleming said. “But you’ve decided you don’t want to know, right?”

  “We want to be surprised,” Janet answered.

  Not that they hadn’t already had a few big surprises these past weeks.

  “Let’s see if we can get a measurement here.” Dr. Fleming pushed some buttons on the machine. “You’re measuring at nine and a half weeks pregnant. That puts your due date on or around June 23.”

  “That’s right at the end of foaling season.” Jack grinned, gave her hand a squeeze.

  “We’ve got a strong heartbeat.” Dr. Fleming turned on the audio.

  The small, dark room filled with the rapid thrum of a tiny beating heart.

  Tears blurred Janet’s vision, spilled down her temples. “Do you hear that?”

  Jack nodded, a soft smile on his face. “I surely do.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’ve still got so long to go. So much could go wrong. I don’t know whether I should feel elated, cautiously optimistic, or scared to death right now.”

  Dr. Fleming laughed. “It sounds like you’re well on your way to being a mother.”

  But Jack bent down, kissed her cheek. “Whenever life gives you the option, go with elation. That’s what I’m feeling.”

  # # #

  Jack drove Janet back to her place, helped her pack a few suitcases, and then piled them in the back of his truck and headed home. It was early evening by the time they reached the Cimarron. Jack drove by the main gate, kept heading up the highway.

  “Hey, aren’t we supposed to turn there?”

  He gave Janet’s hand a squeeze. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  He continued up the highway, most of the snow now melted, true autumn setting in up in the high country. He turned off onto the dirt road that led to the high pasture, not stopping for the cattle, which now grazed on meadow grass. Taking care to avoid ruts, he slowly drove up the road, then made a left onto the oldest road on the ranch, what was left of the original homestead house about fifty yards ahead of them.

  He drove up to the house, stopped, parked. “I’ll come and help you out.”

  He opened her door, helped her to the ground, kept his arm around her, wanting to make certain she didn’t slip and fall. “Follow me.”

  “What is this place?” She looked around them, craning to see it all—the orchard, the old barn, the outhouse, the iron water pump.

  “This is the house my grandfather built for my grandmother when he got the crazy idea to homestead in the Rocky Mountains.”

  Most of the place was still standing, though the paint had long since worn away, and the wood was in bad shape. The glass windows were still intact, tattered yellow curtains hanging in what had once been the sitting room. The chimney had crumbled a bit, remnants of a bird’s nest showing at the top.

  Jack slowly walked in a circle around the house, holding Janet’s hand. “He came up here in 1927 with my pregnant grandmother and a two-year-old son, who, as it happens, was my father. He woke up one day and decided he couldn’t do right by his family in the city. He’d fought in World War I—signed up when he turned eighteen and ended up at the Battle of the Argonne, saw most of his friends die. I think he needed to get away from the noise and find peace.”

  They stopped on the side of the house in full view of the surrounding mountains.

  Jack watched the awe on Janet’s face as she took in the view, the breeze catching her dark hair, the cold putting color back in her cheeks.

  She closed her eyes, inhaled. “It is peaceful up here and so quiet. I can’t even hear the highway.”

  It made him smile to see her reaction, to see how the land called to her. She belonged here now. She belonged with him. But did she know that?

  He would find out in a moment.

  “Why did they abandon this house?”

  “My grandfather picked this spot for its beauty.” He pointed to a dead Douglas fir that had been almost split in two by lightning, its bark blackened. “What he didn’t know is that a load of iron ore runs right beneath it, making this stretch of land especially prone to lightning strikes.”

  She laughed. “I can see how that would be a problem.”

  “He ended up leaving this house and building another one lower down. Theresa and I had that one razed to its foundation and built the ranch house you see today.”

  Get to the damned point, amigo.

  But Janet had a half-dozen other questions.

  Were those apple trees? Did the well still have drinkable water? What had his grandparents done in the winter when the snow got deep? How long did it take them to get to Denver when they needed supplies—or did they go to Scarlet Springs? What if they had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? And, God, what had his grandmother done when she’d had morning sickness?

  He answered as best he could, feeling more nervous by the minute.

  “I brought you up here because I wanted you to see where it started. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve become a part of the Cimarron now, a part of its history. I wanted to do this a few weeks ago, before we found out you were pregnant. It’s important to me that you understand that.”

  She looked up at him, confused. “You wanted to bring me here?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  Just get to it, damn it!

  He reached into his pocket, took out the engagement ring he’d had made for her—a two-karat oval diamond set in platinum—then released her hand and got down on one knee. “I love you, Janet. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how many surprises the future brings, I want you at my side. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Then he realized he hadn’t opened the box.

  Jesus Christ on a crutch! Had he bungled it like this with Theresa?

  But she wasn’t looking at the box. She was looking at him, tears in her eyes, a wobbly smile on her face. “You finally asked me! Please stand up so I can kiss you.”

  He got to his feet, and she jumped into his arms, kissing him right on the mouth, a deep, hungry kiss. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

  “Yes, Jack, I’ll marry you.” She laughed, the sound making his chest swell.

  “Don’t you even want to see the ring first?” He released her, opened the box, held it up for her to see.

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God! It’s … beautiful.”

  He took it from the box, slid it onto her ring finger. “I’d like to get married as soon as possible. I don’t want anyone casting aspersions on your character or thinking I married you only because of a baby.”

  “You’re so good to me.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Sliding off the highway was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “You didn’t know it, angel, but you were coming home.”

  As they turned to walk back to the truck, the setting sun cleared the clouds, bathing the valley before them in gold.

  EPILOGUE

  June 15

  “I’m scared.” Janet looked up at Jack, the bright lights of the operating room and the beeping of the heart monitor adding to her anxiety.

  Jack stroked her cheek, smiled down at her, a blue surgical cap on his head. “Take a deep breath and relax, angel. You’ve done your part. Let Dr. Fleming do his.”

  Janet hadn’t wanted a C-section, but with age, the blood pressure problems that had popped up in her third trimester, and her pelvic injuries, Dr. Fleming had felt it would be safest both for her and the baby. She’d talked with him about preserving as many elements of natural birth as she could since this would be the only tim
e in her life she would have this experience. But here in this moment, she just wanted it to be over.

  “Can you feel this?” Dr. Fleming asked from the other side of a blue drape that blocked her view of the surgery.

  “No.” She couldn’t feel anything, the epidural leaving her completely numb from the ribcage down, making her upper body seem strangely heavy.

  “We’re going to scrub down your skin, and then you should have your baby in just a few minutes.”

  Janet closed her eyes, tightened her grip on Jack’s hand.

  He leaned down, kissed her cheek. “It’s going to be a boy.”

  That made her smile. Jack had been telling her since the beginning that the baby would be a boy. For four generations, his family had produced only boys—well, five generations if you counted Nate and Megan’s baby boy, Jackson, who’d been named after his grandfather and was almost four weeks old now.

  She opened her eyes, looked up at him. “Boy or girl—I’m happy either way.”

  “So you don’t know what the baby is?” the anesthesiologist asked from behind her surgical mask.

  “We’re doing it the old-fashioned way,” Jack answered.

  “Do you want me to tell you what I’m doing?” Dr. Fleming asked.

  Janet thought about it for a moment. “Yes, please.”

  “I’m making the first incision, cutting through the skin.”

  Janet squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, though she felt no pain.

  “Easy, angel,” Jack said, his grip on her hand firm.

  “Do you have names picked out?” someone asked.

  The room seemed to be filled with people, and Janet recognized none of them because their hair and faces were all hidden.

  “No,” The sound of Jack’s voice was soothing, his free hand caressing her shoulder. “We thought we’d wait and see who this little person was before naming him.”

  “Or her,” Janet added.

  “It’s going to be a boy.”

  “I’m making an incision into your abdominal cavity. I’m being extra careful here in case your previous surgery left any adhesions. In a moment, you’ll feel some tugging and some pressure. I need to make certain the incision is large enough for your baby to get through.”

  Janet closed her eyes, drew deep breaths, the odd sensation of tugging deep in her belly strange and not entirely comfortable.