by Stacy Finz
“I’m bleeding.” There was silence and then she said, “It’s not a lot, but maybe I should go to the clinic in Glory Junction.” Emily’s gynecologist saw patients there a couple of days a week.
“Is Dr. Davis even in today?” He was thinking they should go to the emergency room in Quincy instead and hung a U-turn to head back to the ranch.
“She’s there; I just called.”
“Are you in pain?”
“I’m cramping.” She sounded tense, but he wasn’t sure if it was the situation or whether she was still angry with him.
“I’m on my way. Did the doctor say there’s anything you can do in the meantime?”
“There’s nothing,” she said.
“Stay calm and I’ll be right there.” They disconnected and he took the road faster than he should’ve.
By the time he pulled up to the front of the house, Emily was waiting. He got out and helped her into the passenger side.
“You still hurting?”
“A little bit.” Her face was pale and her lips were thin.
He belted her in and kissed her forehead, which felt clammy. “I’ll get you there as fast as possible.”
She nodded and stared out the side window.
“Em, baby, I’m sorry we fought.” God, maybe he’d caused this. He’d yelled . . . and Christ.
“Before Hope I had a miscarriage,” she said without looking at him. This was the first time she’d told him that and it seemed like something a wife should share with her husband, even if it happened before he’d come into the picture.
“Was it like this?” he asked.
“This is the way it started, but there was more bleeding.”
He wondered if losing the baby would be a relief to her and he felt his heart crack again. They didn’t talk for the rest of the drive and when they got to the clinic a nurse ushered Emily back into a room. No one asked him if he wanted to stay with his wife so he sat in the waiting room and tried to read a magazine. He didn’t know which one it was, just picked up the first magazine he found on the table and thumbed through the pages.
“You think I can go back there?” he asked the woman at the counter. Ordinarily he wasn’t so deferential. After years as a naval officer he was pretty good at being in command, but he wasn’t himself.
“Let me go ask,” the young woman said and smiled at him like he was a doting husband.
Doting? He’d been a dick. Putting the magazine down, he got up and paced, stopping every now and again to read the posters on the wall. Anything to keep busy. The receptionist took forever to return. Then again, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Finally she strolled back and escorted him to the room.
Emily was on an examination table with one of those paper sheets covering her from the waist down.
“Hey.” He tried for a smile. “Thought you could use some company.”
Emily gave a halfhearted nod. Clay noticed that her eyes were watery.
“The doctor is going to do an ultrasound to see if she can hear a heartbeat. She went to get something.” Emily told him to pull up a chair.
He dragged one across the room, sat at the head of the examination table, and held her hand. “What did she say about the bleeding?”
“That it’s not a good sign.” Emily’s voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her.
Not a good sign.
He felt his chest move into his throat. Emily was having a miscarriage.
The doctor entered in a lab coat, greeted Clay, and washed her hands. “Emily may have already explained, but I’m about to do a transvaginal scan to see if we can find a heartbeat. Unfortunately, it can be difficult in early pregnancy, but we’ll try and see what we can find.” She put on her best reassuring smile.
A million questions swam through Clay’s head, including: What if you don’t find one? But he figured they’d cross that bridge if and when they got there. It was better to let the doctor get on with the ultrasound.
He’d been in-country when Jennifer had been pregnant with Justin and Cody and watched in fascination as the doctor prepared for the procedure.
“Can this hurt the baby?” he asked as the doctor placed Emily’s feet into a pair of metal stirrups and inserted a probe inside her.
“It’s quite safe. But a lot of people ask that question.” She moved the probe around while she watched a TV monitor.
What she was doing looked horribly uncomfortable to Clay, who turned to Emily. “You okay?”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m fine.”
“There it is. See?” Dr. Davis pointed to the screen, which displayed something that looked like a NASA shot of the moon. Nothing remotely distinguishable. “That’s Emily’s uterus and right there is the fetal pole.”
“The baby?” Clay’s hopes soared.
“To be precise, it’s the thickening on the margin of the yolk sac of the fetus,” she said.
“Is there a heartbeat?” Emily leaned up so she could see the monitor better.
“It’s there,” the doctor said. “But it’s very slow.”
“Which means the baby’s alive, right?” Clay moved toward Emily, feeling more optimistic than he had a few minutes ago.
Emily’s face turned white and he immediately stepped away from her, angry. How could she not want this child to survive?
“Emily, would you like to dress? Then we can talk.”
She nodded and the doctor left the two of them alone. Emily got off the table, found her underwear and jeans, and put them on. There were so many things Clay wanted to say to his wife, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time or the place.
A short time later there was a knock and the doctor came in. “Is the cramping a little better?”
“Yes. But when I was getting dressed there was more blood.”
“More than likely there was already blood in the vagina and the probe dislodged it.” The doctor indicated they should all sit. “But we’re not out of the woods. I’m concerned about the heartbeat being too faint, and the fetal pole was too small for me to take an accurate measurement.”
“This is what happened last time I miscarried,” Emily said, and for the first time Clay noticed she was crying. Maybe he’d misread her reaction. He stood up and put his arm around her.
“But the baby is alive?” he asked the doctor.
“For now, but this may not be a viable pregnancy. I’m going to ask that Emily come back in a few days and we’ll take another scan. We should know better then.”
“Is there something we can do in the meantime?” Clay thought with all the innovations of modern medicine there had to be something.
Dr. Davis shook her head with a sad smile. “Unfortunately not. It’s up to nature now.”
“What about a prescription for the cramping?” He didn’t want his wife to be in pain.
“If it is a viable pregnancy Emily shouldn’t take any drugs. Some doctors say Tylenol is okay, but I would discourage it in the first trimester. I do, however, encourage massages.” She directed that at Clay. “A nice walk can sometimes help, as can a warm bath or shower, and drink plenty of water. I know this is stressful, but the best thing you can do for the baby is try to relax . . . stay calm. Karen will schedule you for the next scan, but if you need me before that don’t hesitate to call.”
They made the appointment and walked across the parking lot to the truck. They got in and just sat, absorbing everything the doctor had said. Neither one of them seemed to know what to say.
To break the silence, Clay asked if Emily wanted to go to lunch. He wasn’t hungry, but it was past noon and Emily should eat. She’d barely had anything for breakfast.
“Sure,” she said, but she seemed far away.
He started the engine and drove to the downtown area. Glory Junction was only thirty minutes away from Nugget, but it seemed like a different world. The ski resorts brought in tons of tourists. As a result, the town was filled with boutiques, hotels, and restaurants. Though it was spring an
d they hadn’t had a good snow since February, the main street was still jammed with parked cars. People came to ride the river rapids, boat in the lake, climb the rocky mountains, and bike world-class trails. It had become a mecca for athletes and adventurers and home to several Olympic medalists.
“You in the mood for anything in particular?” He gently rested his hand on Emily’s leg.
“Whatever you want I’m good with.”
He wanted something quiet and the Morning Glory Diner was decent enough. The Ponderosa cook’s parents used to own it once upon a time. Clay didn’t know who ran the place now. After a couple of circles he found an empty parking space not far from the restaurant.
“The town’s gotten as bad as San Francisco,” he muttered.
“Not quite.” Emily chuckled.
It was good to hear her laugh. He loved her so much that it stole his breath. Sometimes he found himself making up excuses not to check fences, ride the range, or the myriad other tasks of a rancher so he could stay home with her, watch her cook, and generally bask in her sunshine.
They’d both found each other after personal tragedy—though hers was unimaginable—and rebuilt their lives together. But the hole Hope’s disappearance had left in Emily’s heart could never be filled. As a father whose sons were his everything, no one understood that better than he did. But they had to keep moving forward. Despite the difficult days—holidays and the anniversary of Hope’s abduction—their lives were filled with joy. Of course they could never replace Emily’s daughter, or stop hoping that someday they’d find her, but he’d always expected he and Emily would have children together.
Come to find out, the belief had been one-sided.
“What are you thinking about?” Emily asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
“That whatever happens we’ll get through it.”
* * *
On Flynn’s way to the stable he found Annie sitting on the split-rail fence staring off into the distance. She had on one of her weird outfits again. A gingham dress, matching kerchief, and combat boots. Hey, let your freak flag fly, he always said.
She twisted around and waved to him.
“You up for the rest of the week?”
“I’m up for the rest of the summer.” She smiled so brightly Flynn needed sunglasses.
“School’s out already?”
“It’s pretty flexible for doctorate students so I got out a little early.”
He joined her at the fence, leaned his arms on the top railing, and gazed out to see what was so fascinating. “What you doin’?”
“Just checking it out. It’s so beautiful here.”
“That it is.” The sight of the Sierra never stopped holding him spellbound. “Nothing quite like it.”
“You’re getting a late start.”
“I spent the morning in Quincy with Wes.” Not a complete lie.
“Funny, your truck’s been here most of the day.” She’d caught him.
Flynn took off his hat and slapped her playfully with it. “Mind your own business, kid.”
“Hey, what happens at Rosser Ranch stays at Rosser Ranch. I’m going over to Tawny’s boot studio; wanna come?”
“Nah, I’ve got work to do.”
“I bet you do.” She flashed a sly little smile. “How’s Wes?”
“He’s good. We’re talking about getting a new breeding bull.”
“That’ll set you back.” Annie was a farmer through and through, but she knew her ranching too.
“Yes, it will.”
“How’s the fence coming? Hint, hint.” She’d been bugging him about enclosing the area for the tree farm ever since Annie and Gia had picked out the spot.
“As soon as you get that field plowed, I’ve got a couple of ranch hands from Quincy who’ll come up to help me.”
“We’re tilling Friday. It’ll take me a week to prepare the soil, then I’m planting.” She whirled her hand through the air like she was lassoing a steer. “Woot! Woot!”
Crazy girl. But he liked her enthusiasm, always had.
“You talk to your parents?” he asked, knowing it was a touchy subject.
She stared down at her feet. “These days as little as possible.”
“Annie—”
“I talk to them. But it’s hard, Flynn. . . . They’re just so flipp’n blind where Chad’s concerned. We end up fighting and frankly, I’m tired of it. It’s their farm. They can do whatever they want with it.”
“Hang in there, kid.” He squeezed the back of her neck. “Living here for the summer will be a good break for you.” From Chad, from Zeke, and from her naïve but good-hearted parents.
“I think so too. It’s so generous of Gia. The guest apartment is great and she said I can use the pool whenever I want. I’m living the life.”
Flynn’s mouth quirked.
“I like her for you, Flynn. I know people are suspicious of her, but Gia is too good a person to have stolen all that money. The program she wants to start . . . it’s not what Clay McCreedy said. It’s personal, Flynn, not a ploy to get good PR.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“The way she talks about it . . . there’s passion there. It’s like the way I feel about planting things. Helping these women is a calling for her. She understands their frustrations and pain.”
At the risk of putting herself on the line. Flynn hoped that sending members of the carpenters’ guild cash didn’t bite Gia in the ass.
“You think the neighbors have the power to stop the program?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know. I’m checking into it, but they might.” Flynn still meant to have that talk with Clay. Perhaps he’d pay McCreedy Ranch a visit later. He didn’t think he could sway Clay, but he wanted to make it clear that he hadn’t appreciated the way he’d gotten in Gia’s face.
“That’s too bad because the program could be a wonderful thing. Plus, I could use the help with the farm.”
“We’ll see. Gia doesn’t strike me as the type to give up without a fight,” Flynn said, knowing she never would’ve made it on Wall Street or in broadcast news without plenty of determination and moxie.
Annie hopped down from the fence and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. “I’m gonna head over to Tawny’s now. Sure you don’t want to come?”
Flynn eyed his boots. “These’ll do me fine. . . . Tawny’s boots ain’t cheap.”
“I heard she has seconds.”
Those weren’t cheap either, but he’d let Annie discover that for herself. “Have a good time.”
Flynn watched Annie cross the field and duck under the fence, then he headed for the stable to saddle up and make afternoon rounds. He was getting a late start. It was a wonder he was getting any work done at all. If Gia hadn’t gone to town to do wedding stuff with Dana he might still be in her bed.
After she’d left he’d used a good part of the day to touch base with the office, answer emails, and return calls. This evening he was meeting with Donna and Trevor about their living trust.
Dude nickered as he entered the barn. The boy needed exercise. Flynn got him ready for a long, hard ride. Once they were far enough away from the barn he gave the horse his head, loping a good distance before climbing the hills to search for strays. The day was so clear, he could see all the way to Nevada.
He rode for much of the afternoon, checking the herd and testing fences. A calf had gotten separated from its mother and Flynn helped reunite them. No sign of cougars or coyotes, sometimes a problem up in these hills. Worse for sheep and goats. The calves were big enough to fend for themselves.
On his way back he stopped to examine some of Gia’s outbuildings to see if the bunkhouses and single-family dwellings were habitable for her program. The foreman’s house was overgrown with brambles. Between Rosser’s arrest and the property sitting vacant until Gia moved in, upkeep had fallen by the wayside. When the men came up to build the fence for the Christmas tree farm he’d have them clear the foliage away from the cottage and see w
hat needed to be done on the other buildings. At least they were winterized. Up here in the mountains, where temperatures could drop to single digits, that was half the battle.
He crisscrossed the property, deciding to take a detour to Clay’s. The dogs greeted him with their usual exuberance. The boys were outside doing chores and called the pups away.
“School just get out?” Flynn had lost track of the time.
“About two hours ago,” Cody said.
“Your dad home?”
“He’s in the house.” Justin was having a growth spurt. Every time Flynn saw him he got taller and his shoulders got wider. The boy was a carbon copy of his old man. “You want me to get him?”
“Nah.” Flynn jumped down from Dude. “Would you mind tying him up for me?”
Justin grabbed the horse’s reins and Flynn walked to the house and rang the doorbell. Clay came out in his stocking feet, looking like hell. Flynn wondered if he’d come down with something.
“You sick?”
“No. Emily isn’t feeling well, though. You want to come in?”
“Nope, it’s better out here because I came over to yell at you. What the hell’s your problem, Clay? If you don’t like Gia’s proposal that’s one thing. But why’d you have to talk to her like that?”
“Because she’s being duplicitous . . . Christmas tree farm my ass. That’s just a ruse for us to sign off on her publicity stunt. Jeez, Flynn, when did you start thinking with your dick?”
“If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been friends forever I’d punch you for that. It’s not a ruse. Gia’s planting the trees next week whether or not the proposal goes down. When the fuck did you become so disrespectful? She doesn’t need your goddamn permission. As long as her plan adheres to code she’s good to go. And because it’s a farm she’s allowed to have farmhands. If she was as duplicitous as you say, she would’ve lied . . . said they were employees. Instead, she was honest. So screw you, Clay. As her lawyer I’m gonna tell her to go right ahead with her plan.”
Flynn turned to go, but a small voice called him back.
“Don’t leave angry.” Emily stood at the door, looking even worse than Clay. “Come inside. Let’s talk about this like adults.”
