Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  So against my better wishes, Mom went back home, as though nothing had changed.

  The worst part about it was I knew that it probably only cemented things in Mom's mind: she could get better on her own and she didn't need the surgery. If she was ill, surely she wouldn't have gotten any better, and the doctors would have insisted on keeping her at the hospital.

  To be honest, it was something that confused me as well. If the tumors were still growing in her lungs, how was it that there had been this change for the better? It was another thing that I wanted to talk over with Eric, but there was still the elephant in the room of our fight. Our last conversation, at the lake, had gone much better, but that didn't mean that we were on friendly terms again. I just had to work through this on my own.

  The evening that Mom got home, she and I sat out on the front porch, drinking lemonade and basking in the warm sunlight. It was inching toward summer and the days started growing longer and warmer. It was only a matter of time before the heat and humidity got to be a little too much, but for now, we were enjoying it.

  As much as I hated to spoil the moment, I remembered Eric's admonishment at the hospital that I hadn't pushed hard enough before, and I knew that I couldn't just avoid this conversation now. We no longer had time to pussyfoot around the treatment options. And since I had already made up my mind that the surgery was the only option, after talking with Eric, I at least had a firm stance to start the conversation from.

  “Mom, what are you planning to do about treatment?” I asked, thinking that if I left it open to her decision, maybe she would surprise me by admitting that she had decided to do the surgery.

  Of course, it couldn't be that easy. Mom sighed. “Olivia,” she said warningly.

  I knew better than to get frustrated so soon into the talk, but I had a hard time not getting upset when she said it like that. “They said things looked bad when you went into the hospital,” I told her. “They X-rayed your lungs, and they said that the tumors are getting bigger and that soon you won't be able to breathe at all.”

  “And yet, here I am, and I feel loads better than I did when I went into the hospital,” Mom said. “The steroids they gave me to reduce the tumors worked.”

  “But that won't last,” I told her. “Mom, they said that the only option is to surgically remove them and then start chemo. Otherwise, it's only a matter of time before...” I trailed off, tears pricking my eyes. I couldn't say the words; I could barely even think them.

  I just didn't understand how Mom could continue to deny the severity of her illness.

  Mom shook her head. “I'm going to keep drinking my tea every day and let come what may. Your old mom is strong, Olivia; you know that.”

  I shook my head. “Strong or not, the cancer is only going to get worse if you don't do anything to fight it!” I told her.

  “The human body is adaptive,” Mom maintained. “It's realized the extent of what's wrong with it, and it's fighting back like never before. I can feel that inside of me. That's why I was finally well enough to go back home.”

  “Mom,” I said exasperatedly, but I knew that nothing I could say would get her to change her mind about the treatment. Unless I mentioned her grandchild, which was currently growing inside of me.

  I still wanted Eric to be the first person that I told, but I still didn't know how to tell him. And after the fight that we'd had at the hospital, I almost didn't want to tell him about the baby. I didn't want that child anywhere near such bickering and negativity, and it seemed like that was all Eric and I were destined to have with one another.

  Sure, there had been great moments, too. But the majority of our interactions seemed to end in frustration. Even those good dates that we'd been on had ended with Eric avoiding me, or with the two of us uncertain of how to proceed.

  And as much as I wanted Eric to be the first person that I told about the child, I would hate for Mom to give up on life, not knowing what she was missing out on. So I took a deep breath. “Mom, I'm pregnant,” I said quietly. “And I'd like you to be there when the baby is born, but with the way things are looking, I don't think that's going to happen unless you get the surgery.”

  “Oh, darling, that's wonderful news,” Mom said, her eyes shining. “How far along are you? Is it Eric's?”

  “It's Eric's,” I agreed, sighing softly. “He doesn't know yet, though, so please don't mention it to anyone.”

  “Waiting until you're a little further along before telling everyone; that's sensible,” Mom said wisely, nodding her head. “So you must be in the first couple months still?”

  I nodded my head. “Mom, I want you to be around for the birth,” I repeated. “I don't know what I'd do if you weren't.”

  “You'd get by just fine, with Dr. Jones at your side,” Mom said, winking at me.

  I didn't know how to tell her how complicated things were between Eric and me at the moment.

  Mom reached over and grasped my hand. “Olivia, I'm so pleased to hear you're finally going to give me a grandchild, but it has nothing to do with my condition,” she said. “Either I'll be around or I won't. But you know that either way, I will always love you and my little grandbaby.”

  “But Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “Don't you think your life is worth fighting for? Your chances would be so much better if you just had the surgery and the chemo. Don't you think it would be better to try?”

  “I don't trust these doctors,” Mom said, shaking her head. “People have survived for hundreds of years without worrying about cancer. These days, it seems like they're saying that everyone has cancer and needs to do something about it, but the cost for treatments keeps getting higher and higher.” She paused. “If the doctors really wanted to save people, don't you think they would make sure that their treatment options were affordable to the average person?”

  “Mom, once again, if it's just about the money, we can figure out a way,” I said tersely. I didn't think it was about that at all, though. I couldn't figure her out, and it bothered me. I could feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes, but I tried to stay calm and rational, to talk through this with her.

  “Darling, I don't need you worrying about me,” Mom said, shaking her head. “If it's my time to go, then it's my time to go. I've already had a wonderful, fulfilling life. I worked a job that I loved for 20 years, and best of all, I had you and watched you grow up into a beautiful young woman. If that's all that I get to do with my life, I consider myself blessed. Don't you worry about me.”

  I shook my head, feeling betrayed. When it was just that she would be leaving me alone, if she were to die, that was one thing. But now, it was as though she was turning my back on both me and my child. And I just didn't understand why.

  As much as she tried to chalk it up to a lower quality of life, didn't she realize that any quality of life was better than death? Especially if it meant that she got to spend more time with her family. Didn't she care about any of that?

  I stood up abruptly, realizing that I couldn't just sit there with her anymore, not when she was like this. “I'm going home,” I told Mom shortly.

  “I thought you were going to stay for dinner,” Mom protested, sounding hurt. “Come on, don't let this pesky medical business ruin a good night for us. If you're that worried that I only have a little bit of time left, don't you want to spend as much time as possible with me?”

  “I can't do this,” I said, shaking my head, feeling the first of the tears leak down my face. “Everything that's been going on is just making me crazy. I don't know how you can continue to lie to yourself and deny that there's anything wrong. The facts say otherwise. And I don't want to have any part of this cover-up. I'm going home.”

  Mom stood up, reaching for a hug, but I evaded her arms, running down off the porch and walking briskly back toward my own house, desperate to get home before I started crying in earnest. I knew I should do exactly what she had said and spend as much time as I could with her. I definitely shouldn't fight with he
r like this, not when I didn't know which interaction I had with her might be the last.

  But nothing felt fair just then. There was the very real possibility that I would lose my mother, right before one of the most important changes in my own life. I hated that thought. But what I hated even more was that Mom refused to do anything about it.

  I had barely made it through the front door before I began sobbing, unable to hold back any longer. I crumpled to a heap just inside the hallway, a jumble of feelings inside me. I remembered kissing Eric right there, in that very hallway. At that point, it had seemed almost as though everything in my life was coming together. But now it felt like everything was falling apart.

  I wished I could talk to him. I wished he could help me convince Mom that she needed to get the surgery done. But I knew I couldn't ask that of him. He had already tried his best to convince her, back when we had had more of a chance of her surviving. Mom had chosen what she wanted, as much as I hated her choice.

  More than that, though, I wished I could call Eric, seeking comfort. I had never felt as alone as I did just then. I had to assume that he knew how this felt, having lost his wife. Of anyone in the town, of everyone that I knew, he was the only person who could understand what I was going through.

  I pulled out my phone, staring tearfully down at it, wishing I had the guts just to press that button, to dial his number. I knew I didn't deserve to rely on him, but I couldn't handle this on my own. And despite everything that had happened between us, I had to think that he still cared about me enough that he would come over at a moment's notice if he knew how upset I was.

  I called him, listening to the phone ring and ring. He didn't pick up, and I swallowed hard, wondering if I should leave a message. In the end, I decided to do so, being deliberately vague: “Hi, Dr. Jones, it's Olivia. I was hoping we could talk again about my mom's situation. Please call me back.”

  Maybe if I phrased it as a patient-doctor situation, he would be more likely to call back.

  But he didn't call back, and as the days went by, I stopped expecting him to.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Eric

  I scanned my list of appointments for the day, surprised to see Olivia's name on the list. We hadn't talked in a couple of weeks, so I had to assume that she had made the booking online. She hadn't listed a reason for the appointment, and I felt a bubble of concern, hoping that she was okay.

  But she probably just wanted to talk about her mother's illness again.

  I shook my head. Jeannie was just as stubborn as ever, and even though she was hanging on well, I had to wonder how much longer that would last. I couldn't believe that Olivia was sitting by and letting her mother decline, especially not since our conversation at the lake had seemed so promising. I thought that I had finally convinced Olivia that her mother needed the treatment, even if she didn't want it.

  I thought back to the message that Olivia had left on my phone a couple of weeks before. She had said that she wanted to talk about something to do with her mother's illness again. But I had decided that the best course of action was to keep things between Jeannie and me from now on, rather than involving Olivia in things further.

  It was partly that involving Olivia didn't seem to be affecting the situation: Jeannie wouldn't listen to her daughter any more than she would listen to the medical professionals. But it was also that I didn't want to deal with her at the moment. I didn't know how to deal with her at the moment. After Buck's revelation that they had slept together and after my realization that I was in love with Olivia, or had been anyway, I didn't know the first thing to say to her.

  Fortunately, I had managed to avoid her around town for the past couple weeks. I had started bringing Emma to a different daycare, over in Westbrook, even though it meant a longer commute every morning and evening. Still, Emma seemed to be enjoying herself there, especially since there were other children her age at the daycare. I didn't regret the change as much as I felt like I should.

  It seemed that my avoidance of Olivia was over now, though. If she truly had some medical issue, I'd treat it professionally. If she didn't have a medical issue, I'd politely ask her to quit wasting my work time.

  I had a couple of appointments before Olivia's, and then I tried to get a little paperwork done. I had a hard time focusing, though, all of my thoughts turning around and around on what Olivia could possibly want to talk about.

  The truth of it was, even if she wanted to talk to me about her mother's treatment, I suspected it was probably too late for me to do anything. I'd mostly handed Jeannie over to Dr. Halsey at this point because there wasn't anything else that I could do. I wasn't a specialist in this field, and if Jeannie were going to opt for surgery, I wouldn't be the one doing it.

  I also knew that the more we let the tumors grow, the more unlikely it was that they would still be able to be operated on. At this point, it had been nearly three weeks since Jeannie had been admitted to the hospital; two weeks since she'd subsequently been released. I doubted there was much that we could do at this point.

  If Olivia had wanted to talk about that, she should have made an appointment a while ago, and I had a feeling that she knew that.

  Which meant that this had to be about something else. But what could it be? I didn't have all of Olivia's medical records still because she had decided that Chicago was close enough that she could continue seeing her doctor there for her yearly physical.

  Maybe she was sick. I knew she was still running the daycare, with Harlan, and another few kids signed up for it so their parents could work during the summer. Everyone knew that where there were kids, there were colds. That was the most likely thing that I could come up with.

  I shook my head and turned back to my paperwork, but even having resolved that this probably had to do with some minor illness, I couldn't seem to focus.

  I didn't want to see her, to put it frankly. Not after hearing everything that Buck had said to Gary at the gas station. Not after realizing that she had lied to me. But if I treated her coldly and professionally, maybe she would get the hint that I was no longer interested and she would go to her doctor in Chicago in the future.

  I was glad to hear the bells chime above the door as Olivia entered: at least it meant that my waiting and wondering was over. I just wanted this to be done with.

  I stood up, schooling my face to a professional neutral. “Ms. Sable,” I said, nodding curtly at her. “What can I help you with today?”

  She seemed nervous, and she fidgeted with her sleeves, biting her lower lip. “I'd like to consult with you about prenatal care,” she said quietly. Her eyes darted toward my face and then quickly away from me.

  I felt as though the floor had dropped out from under me. I could hardly believe what I had just heard. Olivia was pregnant? I spared a look at her stomach, but she wasn't showing yet. She couldn't be too far along.

  For one brief moment, I was proud of her for choosing to consult about prenatal care so early in her pregnancy. I knew a lot of people looked up everything that they were supposed to do online but then didn't do anything about it until later in the pregnancy, besides the obvious things like refraining from drinking alcohol or eating sushi.

  But then, as her words sunk in, a sick feeling rose in my stomach. I had been careful to use a condom each time she and I had slept together, and I knew she was on birth control as well. The baby must be Buck's. Not only was she sleeping with someone else, but she was carrying someone else's baby as well.

  I would never have gone back to her, knowing that she had slept with someone else, but finding out that she was pregnant with Buck's baby too made it all seem so real. Whatever feelings I had had for her, they were gone.

  The fact that she had come to me to consult about prenatal care made me angry as hell. Where did she get off, thinking that she could just waltz in here and announce her pregnancy like that? Sure, she was probably pretty ticked that I hadn't called her back, but there was nothing else to say betwe
en us, not after she'd lied and slept with someone else. Or had she thought that she could get away with that?

  I spared a moment to wonder why she hadn't gone to her doctor in Chicago about this. But then, she was practically gloating about it. Throwing it in my face. At least since I had heard it from her, here in the privacy of my office, it wouldn't be such a shock when the news spread around town. That was the only good that I could see in the situation, though.

  I sat down at my desk and grabbed a sheet of paper, scrawling out a name and phone number. Then, I crossed quickly toward her, wanting to get her out of there as soon as possible so that I wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.

  “Here's a recommendation for a doctor over in Kingsfield,” I bit out angrily, pushing the piece of paper into her hand and folding her fingers around it. “I'm afraid I currently have too many patients in my roster for me to take on another one. Anyway, prenatal care isn't my specialty. You should find yourself a proper gynecologist who will be with you for the entire process. Dr. Lazaro is a great choice, but if you don't like working with her, the internet can point you in the right direction, I'm sure.”

  It was all true, as much as I hated saying it. I spared a moment to think about what it would be like if the baby was mine and she had come to me consulting about prenatal care. If her night with Buck had never happened.

  I remembered how happy I'd been when Emily had told me that she was pregnant with Emma. I'd done everything that I could to be there for her during the pregnancy. I had taken care of her, massaged her feet and ankles when they'd gotten swollen and sore. I’d also gone to whatever lengths were necessary to satisfy her food cravings, even though a lot of times, by the time I got home with whatever it was that she had been craving, she had moved on to another bizarre craving.

  But I had to stop thinking about that. This situation was totally different. For starters, it wasn't my baby.