by Stacy Finz
Emily nodded and reached for his hand. “It’s good we all came.”
“Yep,” he said, retreating into his own thoughts during the three-hour drive.
By the time they reached the clinic in Glory Junction Emily had fallen asleep.
“Em, baby, we’re here.” He nudged her gently and she came awake with a start, her face pale and even a little gaunt.
Not for the first time he wondered what was going through her head. These days she kept her own counsel. Clay suspected she’d girded for the worst and would probably be relieved by it. On Sunday he’d seen her go to the oak tree he’d planted for Hope and sit on the bench he’d inscribed with her daughter’s name.
This is Hope’s tree, Emily. No matter where she is, her spirit lives here. That’s her bench. No matter where she is, we’ll sit here and always think of her, he’d told her the day they’d gotten engaged.
Clay hadn’t wanted to spy, but he knew his wife had spent a good hour sitting under the tree’s leafy canopy. She’d gone often enough since he’d planted the oak, sometimes with Hope’s baby album. He’d always understood that she needed time alone with her memories. This occasion was no different. But she’d come back more miserable than he’d ever seen her.
“You ready to do this?” he asked, offering her an arm out of the passenger seat.
She exhaled. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
They went inside the clinic. A nurse immediately settled them inside an exam room where, as before, Emily stripped from the waist down and covered herself with a paper sheet. Clay busied himself by studying the medical posters on the wall.
And they waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Eventually Dr. Davis swept in, a faint smell of antiseptic soap trailing behind her.
“How are the two of you holding up?”
Not well, but Clay said, “We’re holding.”
The doctor addressed Emily, “You’re still spotting, though?”
“And cramping,” Emily said, and the doctor pursed her lips as if she didn’t think that was a good sign.
“Doubling-over cramping?”
“Nothing like that. It feels like pinching.”
Dr. Davis washed her hands. “I’m not too concerned about mild cramping. It’s normal. I’m not too thrilled with the bleeding, though. But we shall see.”
Dr. Davis went through the same routine as last time. After prepping she moved the ultrasound monitor closer to the exam table and started the imaging test, moving the probe inside Emily.
“There we are.” She pointed at the screen.
The picture looked the same to Clay as it had the last time. A moon with craters.
Davis fiddled with the machine for a while, her expression giving nothing away. Emily strained to see what she was looking at, leaning halfway up on the table.
“I’m getting about ninety beats per minute,” Dr. Davis finally said.
“The baby’s heart?” Clay asked. “Is that good?”
“It’s typical and definitely reassuring. Statistically with an embryonic heartbeat like this the chance of the pregnancy continuing is at least seventy percent.” Dr. Davis grinned. “We’re in good shape, Mom and Dad.”
“What about the spotting?” Emily asked.
“We’ll have to watch it. But a little spotting isn’t too worrisome.”
The gripping vice around Clay’s chest loosened and suddenly he could breathe normally again. His mood soared. But it was short-lived. After the doctor left to give Emily time to dress . . . time for them to absorb the wondrous news . . . his wife burst into tears.
He didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry I’m happy you didn’t lose the baby. Because the truth was, his prayers had been answered. He wanted this child like he wanted his next breath. He already loved the tiny seed growing inside Emily.
She hurriedly put on her skirt while Clay stood tensely at her side. He swiped the box of tissues off the counter and handed it to her. Emily blew her nose and did the unexpected; she walked straight into his arms.
“I thought for sure we were going to lose it,” she said and sobbed against his chest.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He sounded harsher than he’d meant to.
She cried so hard that he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. So he just held her.
“Let it out, sweetheart. Let it go.”
“I was so afraid ... I want this baby . . . God, do I want this baby.” She hiccupped and sniffled, soaking his shirt with her tears.
He lifted her chin with his finger and stared into her wet blue eyes. “You do?”
“I do. I always did. But I’m scared, Clay. I’m so scared.”
“Of what?” He rubbed her back, trying to understand.
“Of losing her. I . . . I can’t ever go through that again. And I can’t let her replace Hope.”
“How do you know the baby’s a she?” He grinned.
“Just a feeling.” She touched her stomach and his chest expanded with joy. Sheer blissful joy. She wanted their baby.
“No one can ever replace Hope,” he said. “And we’ll never give up trying to find her. As for the baby, we can only control what’s in our hands to control. The rest we have to leave to fate.”
“We almost lost her, Clay.” She wiped her eyes.
“But we didn’t.” He laid his hand on her belly. “She . . . or he . . . is in there, growing. And we’re going to do everything we can to keep our baby safe.”
There was a knock at the door. The doctor pulled open the curtain and came bustling in. “How are we doing?”
“Good . . . relieved . . . nervous.” Emily laughed and cried at the same time.
The doctor squeezed her arm. “It’s those hormones hard at work. Do you have any questions?”
Emily sniffled and Clay pulled her into his side, feeling more at peace than he had in weeks. “Is there anything more we can do?”
“Just make sure Emily eats right and gets plenty of rest. Otherwise, watch the spotting, but remember a little bit is normal. And I’ll see you at the next appointment.”
They walked outside, arm in arm, into the blinding sunshine. Even the regal Sierra mountains seemed greener and more majestic than usual.
Emily peeked up at him. “I know you want me to be more excited. . . more demonstrative. I want to be, Clay; I really do. Fear and guilt has had me by the throat. But I want this baby.... Don’t you ever doubt how much I want this baby.”
He pulled her close and kissed her in the parking lot of the clinic, loving the subtle changes that had taken over her body. Though her stomach was still flat it felt slightly rounded and her breasts were fuller—all in preparation for bringing their child into the world. He thought his chest might explode with pride.
“I love you, Emily. Now let’s go home and tell the boys.”
* * *
Flynn checked his watch at least four times as he waited at the Pretrial Services Office for Gia. She should’ve been here by now. He’d moved mountains to post the bond in time to have her out of custody by nightfall. And here it was already dusk. The idea of her spending any more time in county lockup made his stomach churn.
She’d looked so frail and frightened in the courtroom today. Nothing like the woman who’d brazenly held a hunting rifle to his chest. Then she’d been fierce and Flynn was pretty sure that’s when she’d begun wrapping herself around his heart. Although at the time he would’ve been loath to admit it. Now he was full-blown gone for her. But if he couldn’t beat the charges against her, he’d have to love her from the other side of a visiting room.
Couldn’t the goddamn feds see that if she had any clue where Laughlin was she’d tell them? Then again, they didn’t know Gia like he did. How she unselfishly sent victims money. Or that she’d bought Rosser Ranch to give struggling women a fresh start. They only saw a wealthy television celebrity who’d hitched her wagon to a slick-ass con man.
He was just about to call the jail to see what the h
oldup was when he spotted Gia. She walked slowly across the hall in the clothes she’d been arrested in and carried a paper bag with what he presumed held the rest of her things. She looked so dejected that Flynn wanted to hold her. Highly unprofessional, given the place. He worked with the people at Pretrial Services and the last thing Gia needed was for them to know they were romantically involved. It was bad enough that everyone in the clerk’s office was aware he’d put up some of his own property to make her bail. Lawyers didn’t do that for their clients. He was expected to be an objective advocate, not her bank.
He took the bag from her. “I’ve got the truck nearby.”
She didn’t say anything, just followed him out the door to a parking structure where they rode the elevator up to the third floor. He guided her to his Ford and pressed the key fob to unlock the doors, anxious to be alone with her and away from prying eyes. Without a word, Gia slid in while he got behind the wheel.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” he said.
She turned away and stared vacantly out the passenger window. The streets were jammed with cars and Flynn knew from experience that the interstate would be worse. Rush hour. Maybe they’d stop somewhere for dinner to wait it out.
“You okay?” He put his hand on her leg as he zigzagged through traffic.
“I want to go home. Did you talk my mom out of coming?”
“Yeah. I told her we’ll need her closer to trial.” If God forbid they had to go to trial.
Gia returned to staring out the window.
“You want to stop to get something to eat? We could pull off in Folsom or Roseville.”
“No, thank you.”
Her answer was terse, but Flynn figured Gia was stretched to the limit after her ordeal. It took almost twenty minutes to get on the interstate, which resembled a parking lot. Stop and go for the next fifteen miles.
“You could put your seat back and try to sleep,” he said. “You’re probably exhausted.”
Gia found the lever on the side of her chair, reclined, and closed her eyes. By the time the traffic subsided she was fast asleep. He wanted to pull over somewhere private to cuddle and kiss her but decided she needed the rest. So he rode the rest of the way to Nugget in silence under a moonless sky.
Sometime after eight o’clock he pulled through Gia’s security gate and parked in the driveway. He turned off the engine and she stirred, drawing her seat upright.
“You awake?” He moved in to kiss her, but she pulled away.
“I need a shower.”
They got out of the truck and he grabbed her paper bag from the back and took it inside the house. Gia headed straight to her bedroom. Flynn assumed she needed time alone to feel human again and went to the kitchen to scrounge up something for them to eat. Annie had left a note on the counter that there was homemade soup in the refrigerator. Flynn found it easily enough in a container on the top shelf and poured it into a pot to heat on the stovetop. From the cupboard he grabbed two bowls and waited.
But when thirty minutes went by he got concerned.
“Gia?” He knocked on her bedroom door.
When she didn’t answer he let himself in and found her on the bed with her face buried under the pillow, asleep. Flynn got an extra blanket from the closet and tucked her in. The last twenty-four hours had to have wrung her out. He stood there watching her sleep, taking in her sweet scent. He returned to the kitchen and started to clean up when his phone vibrated on his belt. It was a text from Toad.
Been out of cell range until now, but you’ll thank me for it. On my way to the Caymans. Will call with news tomorrow.
Flynn took a deep breath. Toad had left him a voice mail late the previous night, but it had been so garbled and filled with static Flynn hadn’t been able to make out much of the message. It sounded like Toad was onto a good lead. But Flynn knew from experience that whatever Toad was chasing could easily turn out to be nothing. He turned off the light in the kitchen and crossed the house back to Gia’s room. Shucking off his shirt and pants, he got under the covers and curved his body around hers. The room was silent except for the beat of her heart.
Morning came too fast and Flynn slowly opened his eyes to the light seeping in through the drapes. He reached for Gia, but she was gone, a mound of rumpled blankets in her place. Swinging his legs off the bed, he pulled on his jeans and followed the fresh scent of coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen. Flynn poured himself a cup, went upstairs to his own room, showered, and dressed.
Before going in search of his elusive girlfriend—he’d brought her home to Mom, he could call her that—he checked his cell for any missed messages from Toad or the office. Nothing yet, but it was still early.
He headed down and wandered the main floor of the house. No Gia, so he went outside and hiked to the barn. Cody was there, but Rory was gone.
“Ms. Treadwell took him out,” Cody said while mucking out the mare’s stall.
Flynn wondered why she hadn’t waited for him. They could’ve ridden together. He had a lot he wanted to talk to her about.
“Dad said you got her out of jail. I guess she doesn’t have to wear one of those ankle bracelets.”
“Nope.” Flynn scratched a hand under his hat. “You know which way she went?”
“I didn’t really pay attention. Sorry.”
Flynn whistled for Dude, who was roaming the paddock. “You fed him already, right?”
“About an hour ago.” Cody climbed up on the stall gate. “Emily’s having a baby.”
“No kidding?” That was news to Flynn. “I hadn’t heard.”
“No one knows yet except the family.”
And now me.
“You excited?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Cody nodded. “I like the idea of being a big brother.”
“You’ll be a good one.” They were fine boys, Cody and Justin.
He watched as Dude trotted into his stable stall. “Want to go for a ride, boy?” Flynn slipped a bridle onto the gelding’s head and led him into the center of the barn to saddle up.
“You gonna try to find Ms. Treadwell?” Cody asked. “If you are you better get a move on. She’s got a good hour on you.”
“An hour, huh?” Why the hell had she gone off without him? She probably hadn’t wanted to wake him, he told himself. He’d barely slept the night she’d stayed in jail, tossing and turning. “That’s okay. I’m faster.”
He finished wrapping the cinch strap, stuck his foot in the stirrup, and mounted up. “Thanks for taking such good care of the horses,” he told Cody. “And congratulations on the baby.”
“Thanks, Flynn.”
He rode off, following Gia’s favorite trail. In the distance he saw Annie with his fence guys. Ranch hands really. But every good hand knew how to build a fence. He’d sent them over yesterday and it appeared they’d gotten a good amount done. Annie waved and Flynn tipped his hat, riding on. He caught up with Gia at the copse of trees near the big pasture where most of his cattle grazed. She had on those clingy breeches she liked to ride in and the breeze ruffled her hair, taking Flynn’s breath away. In that moment he knew he was going to tell her that he loved her. Just lay it on the line. And someday, when all the crap was behind them, he planned to make her his wife.
Screw her crazy notions about marriage. He’d change her mind and show her what great partners they’d make.
She reined Rory in so he could come up beside her. “Hey. You checking your cattle?”
“No. I came looking for you. Why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve ridden out together.”
“I needed the space . . . time to think.” Rory didn’t want to stand still so Gia turned the mare in a few circles so her head faced Dude’s.
“We’ll work this out, Gia. Toad has a lead . . . he’s in the Caymans.” Flynn didn’t know whether the lead would actually pan out, but he wanted to give her hope. “The feds don’t have anything on you anyway.”
“Does that really matter? Apparently someone has to tak
e the fall for what Evan did.”
“They have to have evidence for a conviction,” he said. So far everything they had was highly circumstantial. “I’m going in later to work on the case, but I wanted us to talk.”
“About what? I don’t know anything, Flynn. If I knew where Evan was I would tell anyone who would listen.” She turned away and gazed out toward the mountains.
“Gia, look at me. I wanted to talk about us. . . . The case can wait.”
“Good.” She spun around. “Because I wanted to talk about us too. From now on we need to keep this solely professional. I . . . uh . . . can’t sleep with you anymore. Not even like last night.” All he’d done was hold her. “I need you to be my lawyer . . . nothing else.”
Where had that come from? If she’d punched him in the stomach he couldn’t have been more surprised. Shattered was more like it. He wanted to put up an argument, find out what the hell was going on in that head of hers. Two days ago she’d met his whole family; he’d thought they’d had something.
“Would you rather me get you another attorney?” he asked, shell-shocked.
I need you to be my lawyer . . . nothing else. The words kept looping through his head.
“No, I want you,” she replied. “You’re a wonderful lawyer. I just think it would be better if we focused on my case.”
“And afterward?”
“I’m not the one for you, Flynn.” Her eyes misted and she turned Rory so he could no longer look at her. “I have to head back to meet Dana.”
He watched her lope away, resisting the pounding need to go after her. Can’t do it, he told himself. As his client, she got to set the boundaries. It was his fiduciary duty to adhere to them, though he would’ve turned in his bar card if it meant having her.
Chapter 23
“Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look back,” Gia repeated the mantra a dozen times. It got her as far as the stable, and when she finally did look back Flynn was gone.
She knew he cared about her in his own way. But he didn’t need a woman who was an embarrassment and she didn’t need another man to make her heart feel threadbare. What did she have to offer anyway? Especially now, when she was staring down a fifty-year prison sentence for something she didn’t do. Better to have a lawyer than a lover.
