When the shot started to take effect, Kirsch sat on the side of the bed, holding her hand. “From now on, take it one step at a time, young lady. Tomorrow, no riding. The following day, you can ride for ten minutes. If that goes well, you can add a few minutes to your riding time each day. You have to build up to this slowly, and chances are, even when you’ve been back in the saddle for a while, you’ll still need to take frequent breaks when you go for long jaunts.”
“But we’re supposed to get married at a mountain lake on Saturday. Ryan planned for us to ride in.”
The doctor fixed a questioning gaze on Ryan. “How far is the lake, Rye?”
“About three hours by horseback.”
The doctor shook his head. “She won’t be ready. Postpone for at least another week, and even then, you’ll have to break up the trip, going half the distance one day and half the next.”
“We can do that,” Ryan said. “Bethany and I can head up on Thursday, go halfway, and camp for the night. It’ll be fun.”
She angled an arm over her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I was so excited about being on Wink again, I never even thought about getting leg cramps. I should have had better sense.”
The doctor patted her hand. “It’s easy to overdo. I don’t ride all winter, and the first time I go riding in the spring, I hobble around for days afterward. Every single time, I swear I’ll never be so stupid again, but I always am.”
“You ride?”
Kirsch chuckled and winked at Ryan. “Why else do you think this bunch out here likes me so well? Keefe doesn’t really trust a man unless he smells like a horse every once in a while.” He turned back to Ryan. “When you ride in to the lake, take along a pint of distilled white vinegar. If she gets cramps, have her drink two shots, straight. It’ll fix her right up.”
“Yuck.” Bethany shuddered at the thought.
“Nasty tasting and a little acidic on the tummy, but it works in a pinch.”
Kirsch went on to carefully question Bethany about her accident and the resultant paralysis. When she’d answered his questions, he said, “Well, young lady, I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon. I’ve delivered all the Kendrick babies. If Ryan has a say, I’ll probably be delivering yours as well.”
Bethany’s face grew pale. She flicked a pained glance at Ryan. “It’s very unlikely I’ll be able to carry a child to term, Dr. Kirsch. Ryan and I want to try, of course, and we’ll hope for the best. But my chances aren’t good.”
The doctor looked surprised to hear that. Very surprised. “I see,” he said. “And why is that? Did you sustain internal injuries I’m unaware of?”
“I, um … no. I was badly bruised, of course, but there was no permanent damage. When I had my last checkup, the gynecologist said I was fine.”
“Ah. So who said you might not be able to carry a baby to term?”
“The spinal specialist who did my surgeries. He felt my risk of urinary tract and kidney infections would be extremely high, which can lead to miscarriage or preterm labor. There’s also a very dangerous condition—I can’t remember the name—that he said I might get.”
Dr. Kirch mulled that over. Ryan wondered why he was frowning so. “Have you had a history of urinary tract infections?”
Bethany shook her head.
“I see.” Kirsch rubbed his chin. “The condition the doctor warned you about was probably autonomic dysreflexia.”
“That might’ve been it,” she said. “It’s been a long time, but I remember it was a name like that. It sounded really awful when he described it to me.”
“It is pretty awful,” he agreed. “It can cause serious complications at any time during pregnancy or come on during labor. However, it commonly occurs in women with an injury at or above the seventh thoracic vertebra.”
“Mine’s at L2. But he said there was a chance I might get it.”
“What’s this condition do to you?” Ryan asked.
“There can be a sharp rise in blood pressure, a severe escalation or drop in heart rate, and there’s a risk of convulsions and enlargement of the heart. All in all, it’s nothing to mess around with,” Dr. Kirsch said solemnly. “There are ways to control it, but sometimes they fail.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Ryan whispered. “Something like that could kill her.” He searched Bethany’s face. “It’s just not worth it, honey. Not with the risk of another blood clot on top of it. I’d rather we simply never try.”
“What’s this about a blood clot?”
Ryan quickly recounted to the doctor what Jake had told him.
“There’s nothing to say I’ll get the dysreflexia stuff,” Bethany argued. “And I can be really careful while I’m pregnant not to get a clot. I can stay in bed most of the time with my legs up.” She fixed Ryan with an accusing look. “Is that why you’ve been using protection every time, because of what Jake told you?”
Ryan sighed. “I don’t want to take any chances, Bethany. A blood clot might kill you. Jake feels it’s unwise for you to get pregnant, and so do I.”
She gave him a look that promised she would have a great deal to say about that decision once they were alone.
Ryan glanced at the doctor, then back at her. “We’ll settle this later. All right?”
“Just remember what you said about living in a bubble or grabbing hold of life with both hands. That’s how I feel about this—that trying is worth the risk.”
Cold sweat popped out on Ryan’s face. He stared down at her, thinking how dearly he loved her and how devastated he’d be if anything happened to her. He sure as hell didn’t want a baby of their own so much that he would put her life in danger.
“I’d like to speak with your surgeon,” Dr. Kirsch said. “Do I have your permission to contact him, Bethany?”
“I don’t mind if you speak to him, Dr. Kirsch, but I’m sure he’ll tell you exactly what he told me—that I shouldn’t have children.” Her eyes darkened. “He even went so far as to say he felt it was a blessing because a woman in a wheelchair has no business having babies, anyway.”
“Hmm.” Kirsch shook his head. “What’s this doctor’s name?”
“Dr. Reicherton. He’s up in Portland. You probably don’t know him.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. We doctors run into each other more often than you might think. Medical conventions and such. Benson Reicherton.” He smiled and nodded. “He’s a competent surgeon, one of the best on the West Coast.”
“Daddy wanted the best,” she said. “He was told we couldn’t find better than Dr. Reicherton. I never liked him, but he seemed to know his stuff.”
Again Kirsch nodded. “Ben’s very good. If I had a spinal cord injury and surgery was recommended, I wouldn’t hesitate to have him as my doctor. I’d walk a mile to avoid having him as a golfing buddy, though.”
Bethany laughed and then suddenly yawned. “You do know him.”
Dr. Kirsch smiled and winked at her. “I do, at that.” He pushed to his feet and collected his bag. “I see that the shot is making you drowsy, young lady, so I’ll take my leave and let you rest.” He leveled a finger at her nose. “No riding tomorrow. I have a ten o’clock tee time, and if this overprotective fellow of yours calls me off the course over leg cramps, I’ll be cranky as a bear.”
Ryan followed the doctor from the bedroom. Once at the front of the house, Kirsch scratched his balding gray head. His silver eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown. “Something about this doesn’t add up. Let me check into it. I’ll try to get in touch with Reicherton when I get back to the office.”
“You think she can have babies, don’t you?”
The doctor glanced toward the hallway. “I don’t advise you to tell her that, not until I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to give her false hope and then disappoint her. I’m certainly no spinal specialist.”
“You’re a damned good doctor, though, and I trust your opinion.”
The physician smiled. “Thank you. In answer to your question, for what my opini
on’s worth, this damned good doctor thinks the young lady either misunderstood what she was told or Reicherton gave her incorrect information. Paralysis doesn’t generally affect a woman’s ability to carry a child, especially not in a case like hers, where the nerve damage is incomplete.”
It seemed pretty damned complete to Ryan. “How do you mean?”
“It’s a term we use for a spinal cord injury that kills or impairs only some of the nerves. You can take a dozen individuals with a spinal cord injury at the same level and see a dozen different results. Some people may have partial use of their limbs or have feeling where others don’t. With an L2 injury like hers …” His voice trailed away. “I don’t think it should have any bearing on her ability to have children, and unless I’m completely misinformed, there’s little or no risk of autonomic dysreflexia. But let me check into it. Could be I’m just an old country doctor who doesn’t know beans.” He lifted his hand in farewell and stepped out onto the porch. “I’ll be in touch.”
“What about the blood clot thing?” Ryan asked anxiously.
Kirsch sighed. “I think we can work around that problem. They have some very nice wheelchairs now with adjustable, comfortably cushioned leg rests, kind of like small recliners on wheels, enabling the user to put her feet up whenever the chair is stationary. I also think we can keep the blood thin enough to reduce the danger of clotting without harming the baby.”
After bidding the physician farewell and closing the door, Ryan went to check on Bethany. The muscle relaxant had indeed made her drowsy, and she was already asleep. He sat beside her for a while, gazing at her sweet face. The drug had put her so deeply under that her mouth was lax, and a bead of drool glistened on her bottom lip. He smiled and thumbed it away, his heart squeezing at the thought of anything happening to her.
An hour later when Doctor Kirsch phoned back, Ryan took the call in the kitchen. “What did Reicherton say, Doc?”
“A lot of nothing. Basically, this is my take. No doctor can guarantee even a perfectly healthy young woman that she’ll be able to bear children. The chance that she’ll have problems may be minuscule, but it always exists. The odds against her successfully carrying a child increase substantially if she has special problems or the propensity to have them. That being the case, I won’t go so far as to say that Reicherton actually lied to Bethany. However, I do believe he mentioned unlikely complications for a woman with an L2 injury.”
“Why?” Ryan whispered. “Sweet Lord, why?”
“That’s a very good question. I keep circling back to his comment to her—that a woman in a wheelchair has no business having babies. I’ve known Ben for a number of years. I distinctly recall his telling me once that he went into his field because his mother was a quadriplegic.”
“How does that relate to what he told Bethany?”
“I’m walking a very fine line here, Ryan. I don’t want to speculate and malign the man’s professional reputation. As we were speaking on the phone, it occurred to me that perhaps—and I stress the word perhaps—his childhood was a difficult one because his mother was severely handicapped. Maybe he hates to see any woman in a wheelchair try to raise children. I only know he said nothing over the phone to justify what Bethany claims he told her. He hemmed and hawed. He pointed out that it’s been a number of years, and he didn’t have her file in front of him. But essentially he agreed with my prognosis, that unless there are other complications, a woman with an injury at L2 who is continent and has no history of urinary tract infections should be able to bear children without difficulty. Worst case, she may have to deliver by C-section.”
A picture of Bethany sobbing her heart out in the van the other night flashed through Ryan’s mind, and he closed his eyes, feeling sick. Never any babies, she’d cried. Why in God’s name had the doctor told her such a vicious lie? Granted, maybe some handicapped women were unable to be good mothers because of their disabilities, but each case was different, and it hadn’t been Reicherton’s call to make.
“Ryan? You still there?”
“I’m here,” Ryan said softly. “Just trying to absorb this. That’s all. That girl in there has gone for eight years believing she might never have children. It makes me want to drive nonstop to Portland and rearrange Reicherton’s face.”
“I’m only guessing. Bear that in mind. And forgive me if it sounds pompous, but I think belated anger over something we can never prove would be fruitless. Why ruin what should be a happy time for both of you? You obviously adore this girl. Enjoy this very special time in your lives.”
Ryan nodded and smiled. “You’re right. After I wring her neck for not telling me about the autonomic dysreflexia, I’ll do exactly that.”
The physician laughed. “Now, now. If I were to tell you that having sex might kill you, what would you do?”
“Die a happy man.”
“There you are. Don’t blame her for making the same choice.”
“That’s entirely different. She can have safe sex. Having our own baby isn’t important enough to put her health at risk.”
“In your opinion. Women feel differently sometimes. Having a baby is the most important thing in the world to some of them.”
Ryan rested his elbows on the counter. “I hear you, Doc. Maybe instead of wringing her neck, I’ll just yell at her for a while.”
“Ah, now.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re invited to the wedding, by the way.”
“I’ll be there, then. Oh, and Ryan, I want to see the bride in my office. No rush. Call in the morning and set up an appointment for sometime after the honeymoon. I should give her a good going over, get a baseline established for reference during prenatal care.”
“I’ll get her in to see you, then.” Ryan straightened and quickly added, “Hey, Doc? You think, just to be safe, that I should continue to use protection until after you see her?”
Kirsch chuckled again. “Well, now, that all depends. You going to pull a long face if you’re hitting the floor for three o’clock feedings in nine months?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then, grab hold of life with both hands, as she put it. I honestly don’t believe she’s at any great risk. I’ll take good care of her. Judging by the mutinous expression I saw on that girl’s face, you may play heck getting near her again if she so much as glimpses a prophylactic.”
“You may be right.”
Kirsch cleared his throat. “If I thought there was a need to be cautious, I’d tell you so. I honestly don’t. Give the young lady a baby.”
Ryan was still grinning when he hung up the phone. He returned to the bedroom, lay down beside Bethany, and drew her into his arms. A baby. He’d meant it when he told her he’d be perfectly happy to adopt. But deep in his heart, the thought of making a child of their own had a very special appeal. To see her with a big tummy and know she was carrying his child. To be with her when she gave birth. To watch her cradle a dark, downy head to her breast for the very first time. No matter how much love they might feel, adoptive parents missed out on some of the magic.
Ryan pressed a kiss to her hair and then closed his eyes to dream with her of raising Kendrick sons and daughters on the land where he’d grown up himself. He’d teach them to love these mountains just as he did, he thought sleepily, and one day, they’d take over in his stead to operate the Rocking K.
The thought filled him with a sense of purpose that had been lacking in his life before meeting her. He remembered back to the morning when he’d told Rafe how lost and horribly alone he often felt, that his pets were all that kept him sane on long winter evenings. He no longer felt that way.
How could a man feel lonely or lost when he held heaven in his arms?
Chapter Twenty-one
The day after next, Ryan was working in the stable office doing books when it occurred to him that it was nearly eleven and Bethany still hadn’t joined him for her daily training session. Not that they usually got much accomplished by way of work. She was proving to hav
e an insatiable hunger for him, just as he did for her, and whenever they were alone in here, they ended up making love at least once, sometimes twice, before lunch.
Remembering the last time, Ryan thought of how beautiful she’d looked, lying naked on his desk, and he burned with a sudden yearning to see her there again. He was about to abandon the books to go find her when he heard Sly shout his name. He leaped to his feet, knowing before he made it as far as the door that something bad had happened.
“Down here!” Sly yelled as Ryan exited the office.
Ryan turned to see the foreman disappear into the stall where they’d connected Bethany’s sling. He raced along the center aisle, the thump of his boots on the asphalt only slightly faster than the pounding of his heart. He knew without being told that something had happened to Bethany.
When he reached the open stall and saw her lying crumpled on the dirt beside her horse, Ryan thought his heart might stop. With a quick glance, he determined that she’d attempted to mount the mare by herself, utilizing the sling.
“Jesus Christ!” He pushed Sly out of the way and dropped to his knees beside her, so frightened he didn’t know if he was cursing or praying. “Bethany? Oh, dear God.”
“I’m all right, Ryan.” She suffered his probing hands, telling him over and over that she wasn’t seriously hurt. “I just slipped off the saddle, is all. It wasn’t far to the ground.”
Ryan’s fear turned to anger. “What the bloody hell were you doing?” He shot a scathing glance at the foreman. “If she wanted to use the sling, you should have called me.”
Sly held up his hands. “Don’t jump all over me, son. I didn’t know a thing about this until I found her in here.”
“It was my fault, Ryan. I wanted to do it by myself.”
Ryan wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead he finished checking her for injuries and then gathered her into his arms, shaking so badly the vibrations made the fringe on her new western shirt jiggle. “Never again,” he said fiercely. “Promise me you’ll never try to mount her alone again.”
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