by Laurel Greer
“And one-sixty-five over a hundred says we’re going to the doctor.”
She blanched. “I—Okay. Cupcakes can wait.”
Chapter Twelve
Marisol lay back on the angled hospital bed and squeezed her eyes shut. Lach sat next to her, holding her hand as he had been doing for the past couple of hours. When she’d called Caleb’s office to check if he could see her, the receptionist had told her to head for the hospital. Which they had, but of course now it was a whole lot of hurry-up-and-wait. A belt circled her waist, monitoring any contraction activity. The nurse had come in periodically to check her blood pressure and to administer medication.
Her back spasmed again, followed by her belly clenching, and she tucked her knees up to alleviate the pressure. Oh, God. What if she was in labor? The baby couldn’t come yet. She wasn’t full-term. And she wasn’t done her prospectus. Hell, her presentation wasn’t happening for another two weeks. Maybe she could convince Dr. Wiebe to let her move up the date... But how could she get ready in time?
She swore under her breath.
Lach brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’m sure Caleb will be here soon, sunshine.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. She’d been caught up in worrying about her prospectus, which wasn’t exactly the priority right now. Sweet Mary, was she ever going to be worried about the thing she should be worried about?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Hey.” Lach put a hand on her stomach. Unlike when Mrs. Rafferty had touched her earlier, his caress anchored her. Made her believe for a few seconds that everything would be okay. “Just breathe. Let the meds do their thing. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Liar.”
“Marisol. It’s all stuff we can manage. We just need to talk to each other.” Guilt flicked across his face. “And I need to support you wherever I can. Let’s be honest—it’s mostly your show. But I can be your assistant director.”
“But—”
“Knock, knock.” Caleb’s voice came from outside the curtain. Metal zinged as he pushed the fabric aside to let himself into the space, then closed up the gap for privacy.
He wore a measured, serious expression on his handsome face, and she didn’t need to see the lab coat hastily thrown over his polo shirt and khakis to guess he hadn’t expected to come to the hospital today. The golf pencil tucked behind his ear broadcast that little fact.
Guilt oozed through her gut again. “Caleb, I’m—”
“Marisol. Glad you came in.” He picked up the paper strip hanging from the machine monitoring the baby’s movement and examined it. “What’s shaking?”
Lachlan sat straighter and gave a rapid-fire description of the last couple of hours, down to the individual results of all the tests the nurses had done.
A month ago, she’d probably have been bothered by him jumping in. Now, all she could do was say silent thanks he was there, because she’d been too worried to absorb half the things he just belted out. Maybe there was something to this teamwork thing, after all.
Caleb frowned at the jagged lines on the output strip, and then on something on his phone. “Were you or any of your siblings premature, Marisol?”
“Luisa was, I think. Why? It’s not genetic, is it?”
“Might be.” Caleb shrugged. “Studies are still inconclusive, but my gut tells me there’s something to it.”
She muttered a curse. “Am I in labor?”
“Not yet.”
“My back is killing me today.”
Caleb glanced at her stomach and hovered a hand by her navel. “You okay with a quick exam?”
She nodded.
He manipulated around her abdomen with gentle fingers. “Yeah, the baby dropped. Shifted things around, no doubt.”
“Awesome. Maybe that walk today wasn’t such a good idea.”
He shook his head. “Gentle exercise is a good thing. I’m not seeing any signs of preeclampsia—no need to panic here.”
She exhaled.
“Talk to me about your stress levels.”
She snorted. She couldn’t help it.
Exchanging a look with Lachlan, the doctor took the plastic pencil from behind his ear and fiddled with it. “What hours are you pulling at school these days?”
Damn it, nothing got past this guy. “Six to twelve hours a day.”
“Six?” Lachlan muttered.
“Twelve,” she admitted.
“Cut it in half,” Caleb said.
“But I still have another week of summer session. And my prospectus presentation is scheduled in two weeks.”
“And I just had to medicate you for high BP. So for those other six hours, I want you legitimately relaxing. Doing schoolwork on your couch doesn’t count. Short walks are fine. If I catch you helped with moving anything of his—” he jerked a thumb in Lachlan’s direction “—into his new place this weekend, I’ll put you on full bed rest. Nor do I want you doing housecleaning at your place. Make Lachlan do the dishes and the vacuuming.”
The thought of Lachlan standing at her sink made her smile. Mainly because she pictured him from the back, and the man had shoulders that would rival a Marvel character... “What about sex?” she blurted.
“Marisol, don’t worry about that,” Lach whispered.
“Should be okay,” Caleb said. “Lay off any acrobatics, though.”
Lachlan reddened a little. “Seriously, we can take a pause.”
“We can?” she whispered to him.
“No need,” Caleb said. “Physically, it’s not going to cause harm, and emotionally, it relieves stress and builds bonds. All good things. School’s another story, though. Talk to your advisor and whoever’s in charge of your class scheduling. Make sure they understand you have some health concerns.”
Awesome. Just the conversation she wanted to have with Dr. Wiebe. She was so falling into all the stereotypes about women in graduate programs that she’d battled with her previous advisor.
“But you can leave for today, as soon as the nurse comes and detaches you from all the wires. Come see me at the clinic tomorrow, okay? I’ll be working my usual Friday hours. I need to monitor how you’re adjusting to the meds.”
Tomorrow she was supposed to be at the university for the day, but she held her tongue. “Okay. Hopefully this one behaves overnight.” She spread her fingers under her navel. “Oh! Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have access to all my records here?”
He nodded.
“Do my ultrasound results have the sex on them?”
A grin brightened his face. “What, you want them?”
“Definitely.”
Lachlan leaned an elbow on the bed and linked fingers with hers.
“I don’t need to look. I remember,” Caleb said. “When I saw the note, I thought to myself that it would’ve been fun for Cadie and Zach’s kid to have a little boy cousin who’d look up to him—”
“A boy?” Marisol interrupted, heart swelling.
Caleb shook his head. “Would have been nice. Except you’re having a girl. I’m sure she’ll still hero-worship Ben, though.” He reached over the bed to clap Lachlan on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy. I’ll babysit for you now and again.”
“A girl,” Lachlan croaked.
“Either would be fine,” Marisol said hurriedly.
“Of course it would be. Doesn’t make hearing it any less magical, though,” Caleb said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll get my receptionist to call you with the time.”
He scooted out of the curtained space.
Marisol covered her face with her hands and sank against the stiff hospital pillow.
“Lachlan,” she said, unable to put much volume behind it.
“Mari.”
She blinked at him. And she hadn’t put much thought into him using the nickname, but it had an intimacy infused into it. A familiarity. Pretty much only her family called her that. Were they family now?
We will be if I can move past my damned issues.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His mouth crooked, and the muscles of his hand tensed against hers. He closed his eyes for a second. “A girl. It—it makes absolutely no difference in the world. But it’s still the best thing I ever heard.”
“It is.”
He leaned in and kissed her. “Thanks for taking good care of her.”
“Am I?” she croaked.
“You heard Caleb. She’s healthy. And once you talk to Dr. Wiebe, tell her you need to ease up some, you’ll be healthy, too.”
She bit her lip. Mrs. Rafferty’s assumptions from this morning filtered through the stress of being admitted to the hospital. He’s a caretaker... He was that. And with all he had going on, it would be a hell of a lot easier for him to take care of her if they were living in the same place. “Maybe, I mean, what do you think...”
He raised a brow. “Going to finish that thought?”
“It would be easier on you if we were living together.”
A slow, easy smile spread on his lips. “I don’t know about easier, but it would be damn nice.”
“That way you wouldn’t be doing two sets of dishes. I mean, if we were going to follow Caleb’s orders.”
“We’re following Caleb’s orders,” he said gruffly.
Panic clenched at her chest. He likes the idea now. Until being with me gets in the way of his commitments and goals.
Her ex’s words.
Ugh, why did they still have their claws in her psyche? But...with all Lachlan had going on, and with her schooling, the possibility of ending up in the same miserable place seemed far too probable an outcome. “It would just be temporary. I—I’m not ready to live with someone full-time. But as long as Caleb expects me to be so damned helpless...”
His smile faltered. “Mi casa es su casa. Or however you say it.”
“You’d have to ask Zach. My Spanish conjugation skills are abysmal.”
He squeezed her hand. “My apartment is a bit of a disaster—half in boxes, half not—so why don’t I stay at your place for the next couple of nights, until we can move in on Saturday?”
“Sure.”
“Marisol?”
Huh. He was back to her full name, and for some reason, that didn’t sit right. “Yeah?”
“Whatever’s putting that fear in your eyes? And has you thinking temporary instead of long-term? I hate it. I want you to feel so loved that you forget what it was like to fear.”
“I—”
“Don’t say anything back,” he interrupted. “It’s not going to feel right if you do.”
“Oh—okay.” So she did all that was left without words, and kissed him until the nurse came.
Kissing him was enough to make her forget a lot of things. Her worries about school. Her doubts about being a good mom. Hell, her name, age and phone number.
But the memory of lying in a bed much like this one and being alone? Of watching her ex walk out the door, and finding separation papers on the kitchen table when she got released from the hospital after being discharged?
Even Lachlan’s arms around her couldn’t make that go away.
* * *
“Marisol? Sweetheart?”
Lachlan’s words filtered in to her awareness, along with a gentle stroke along her face.
“What—is it time to get up?” she mumbled, cracking open one eye. The dark room suggested otherwise. Though with him moving this morning, they hadn’t planned their usual Saturday sleep-in. “You’re getting up this early to move?”
“Moving’s going to have to wait. I got a SAR call. Might take a while. I’ll text when I can.”
Worry pinched her stomach, and she sat up. “Be safe, okay? And tell my brother to do the same.”
“Will do.”
There was no falling asleep after that, so she got up and did an hour of yoga, then dug into a few hours of polishing her proposed study.
She was right in the middle of calculating statistical variances when her phone chimed.
Time to take a break, sunshine.
She gritted her teeth and checked the clock. Past noon. Her heart sank. She had so much left to do, but Lachlan was right—she’d hit her limit for the day.
An afternoon of boredom stretched ahead. She didn’t want to push it with being too active, but what else was she supposed to do with a day where neither Lachlan nor Zach was available? She’d already made cookies yesterday, and she didn’t have another doctor’s appointment until Monday...
Um, make other human contact?
Maggie would probably be at the SAR call, too, though. As would Garnet James... But Cadie would probably be free. She didn’t usually work Saturdays. Maybe Marisol could go chill in Cadie and Zach’s backyard.
Cadie answered on the third ring, a little out of breath. “Hello?”
“Hey, uh, did I interrupt something?”
“Just my frustration. Zach needs me to deliver his spare hiking boots out to the base camp, and Ben’s decided today’s the day to have a monster nap.”
“Want me to take them?”
“Oh.” Cadie paused and hummed. “Well, it’s not an emergency. Hence me not waking Ben.”
“I’m free. And bored. I was calling to see if you wanted to do something.”
“I’d love to. But yeah, if you’re willing to play courier, your brother would owe you. You can take his truck—he got a ride out with Lach and Maggie. And then you can come back and hang out while we wait for the call to end. Sounds like it might be a complicated one.”
“Complicated as in dangerous?”
“No, a small plane went down in the middle of the bush. Multiple casualties.”
Her heart clenched. “How awful...”
“Pretty much. Don’t worry, though. The SAR team is safe enough. It’s just ugly for them.”
Pinching her phone between her ear and shoulder, she grabbed her purse and slid into her shoes, then snatched the container of cookies she’d baked. Sugar was always appreciated. She remembered that too well after helping support the rescue crew after the avalanche Zach had witnessed. She headed for her car. “Always amazes me Zach’s able to get back out in the field after what he went through.”
“It helps him, I think.”
“So do you, Cadie.”
“I try.”
“He’s lucky.” Unlocking her car, she got in. “I’ll see you in a few.”
After making her way to her brother’s place, retrieving his boots and switching vehicles, she followed the directions Cadie gave her to get out to the operations base. The forty-five-minute drive around the backside of the mountain gave her way too much time for her thoughts to drift.
Cadie was lucky to have Zach, and vice versa. They’d both managed to get through a horrific situation, worse than what Marisol had ever dealt with. So why were they able to move on, and she wasn’t? What was wrong with her?
She bumped along the gravel road, but even the rough ride couldn’t jar her doubt.
The SAR unit was set up in a small clearing on the side of an old mining road. Thick trees lined the grassy patch. A couple of tents like the ones soccer teams used for sideline shelter and a circle of various law enforcement vehicles made up the makeshift command center. The county’s incident control vehicle buzzed with activity. She pulled in next to Lachlan’s truck, parked among a half-dozen personal vehicles.
Grabbing Zach’s boots, she carefully navigated the rough terrain. She hadn’t been thinking. Her Toms were not the best shoes to be wearing on bumpy ground. Approaching with caution—she didn’t want to get in the way—she spotted her brother
among the four people surrounding a folding table. The group was poring over a set of topographical maps. Her brother wore technical pants and a SAR-emblazoned T-shirt, but the others were uniformed. Two police officers and a federal official, by the colors and letters on their jackets. Their backs were to her.
“Zach?” she called when she was a couple of yards away. “I come bearing footwear. And junk food. Lebkuchen.”
He turned, and his green eyes lit. “Mom’s recipe?”
“Of course.”
“Since when do you make those in the summer?”
“Since I was climbing the walls yesterday afternoon.” She took a last few ginger steps across the pitted ground and handed him his boots and the plastic container. “Nothing wrong with a little Christmas in August.”
“Truth.”
She backed away. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not.” His face sobered, and he put the cookies on the table. Then he grabbed a clean pair of socks from his pocket and bent over to change his shoes. “The team reached the wreckage a few hours ago. No survivors. So it’s a recovery mission at this point, and then these guys will be on deck for the investigation.” He jerked a thumb at the team of officials.
“Are you heading into the bush again?”
He shook his head and tied his laces. “No. But I landed in a creek earlier and my feet were wet, and I was an idiot and didn’t have my spares with me. Thanks for the fresh change.”
“Cool. I should go, though.”
“Or pull up a chair. Lach’ll be back in an hour or so. He’d love that—you can leave my truck for me, and he can return home early. He’s bringing Fudge out now, so he’s all done for the day. But being incident commander, I need to stick around longer, as does Maggie. She’s on one of the extraction teams.”
And someone would have to be called, told their loved one wasn’t coming home... Tears stung the corners of her eyes.
Zach squeezed her shoulder with one of his big mitts. “I know. I do this because it’s necessary, not because I enjoy it. Lach would probably say the same.”
She’d never asked, and guilt twinged in her belly. “Cookies don’t seem like enough.”
