by Liz Isaacson
“Now help Jeremiah figure out how to trust his wife,” Liam prayed as he grabbed a can of cola from the fridge and went down the hall to his office.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ivory heard the bell on the front door of the dry cleaner, but she couldn’t just jump up and go help whoever had walked in. She leaned over the toilet, pretty sure she was finished. She took another moment, then stood up slowly, her legs shaking slightly. The mirror showed her a red face and messy hair, and she turned the water on cold, stung by it but also needing the shock of it.
She had no doubt in her mind why she’d been sick for the past week.
She was pregnant.
She’d been pregnant before, and it had been exactly like this. Maybe not as violent in how quickly the nausea overcame her. Sometimes, she barely made it to the bathroom. At least she hadn’t thrown up in front of a customer yet.
After she’d rinsed her mouth and washed her hands, she went out to the counter. “Sorry,” she said to the woman standing there. “What can I help you with?”
The woman had a ticket for pickup, and Ivory retrieved her dress for her. As she walked out, Ivory reached for her phone. Tripp still brought her lunch every day, and he picked up Ollie from school, and he made sure they had something to eat for dinner. He was a brilliant man, with a kind heart and a good soul, and Ivory loved him with everything inside her.
They’d talked about having more children, and they both wanted them. A feeling like she’d been blessed with an unfathomable gift filled her, and she wanted Tripp to have that same feeling.
When are you coming for lunch? she texted.
Same as always, he sent back. Twelve-thirty, right?
She started tapping out another message, but he was quicker. Do you need to move it?
I have a request today, she’d typed. Ivory never made requests. She ate what Tripp brought, and he’d been up and down Main Street, trying every restaurant, deli, mom-and-pop diner, and more. Last week, he’d brought bowls of ramen noodles from a food truck. And they’d been delicious.
She sent the text, a smile forming on her face.
Did you see the text about a family meeting tonight? he sent, clearly not seeing hers. Pulled pork tonight at Liam’s.
Ivory hadn’t seen it, because she kept the family text string on silent. The Walker brothers and Foster sisters could send a lot of texts, and she didn’t need her phone chiming every other second while she was at work.
A request?
Tripp had thumbs like lightning, and Ivory leaned against the counter as she thought about what to say.
Yeah, she typed out. The baby and I feel like a big salad from The Bread Bowl.
The baby and I. Surely Tripp would see that and know. Ivory thought she was being clever, and she grinned as she sent the text.
Tripp started typing, and in the next moment, her phone rang. Her husband’s name sat on the screen, and she swiped open the call, feeling sick to her stomach again.
“No tomatoes on the salad,” she said. “They give me heartburn.” And she already had enough of that from the morning sickness, thank you very much.
“The baby?” Tripp asked.
Ivory could only giggle, and Tripp said, “Ivory, don’t tease me. Are you pregnant?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been sick for over a week. I haven’t taken a test, but I just know I am.”
He started to laugh, the sound made mostly of air. “I’m coming right now,” he said. “I’ll get your salad and be there in a minute.”
Ivory wiped her tears as she lowered her phone, the call ending. Twenty minutes later, Tripp walked through the door, pure anticipation on his face. He took her into his arms and held her so, so tight.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Ivory whispered into his neck. “I feel bad I’m going to have to leave Verona’s.” The dry cleaner, cheesy as it may sound, had been a saving grace for her. She’d worked here for almost eighteen months, and she loved it. She loved Harmon and Verona.
“They’ll find someone else,” he said. “You’ve been sick? How come I didn’t know?”
“You’re at the gym,” she said, wiping her eyes and taking her salad out of the bag he’d brought.
“Is it bad?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “It usually lasts until about lunch, so I’m glad you brought this early.”
“Can we tell everyone at the family meeting tonight?”
“Sure,” she said, gazing up at him. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning, and Ivory sure did love him. “Who called the meeting?”
“Liam.”
“He must have news too.”
“Who knows?” Tripp asked. “The family meetings can be about anything. I haven’t heard how Wyatt’s doing in a while. Maybe it’ll be more of an intervention-type thing.”
“What time?”
“Six.”
She nodded, ate another forkful of her salad, and sighed when Tripp sat down beside her.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant,” he said. “How are we going to tell Oliver?”
“We’ll just tell him,” Ivory said. “He’ll be excited.”
“Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t care,” Ivory said, glancing at him. “You?”
Tripp just shook his head, a wonderful smile spreading across his face. “Whichever is great with me. I just can’t believe it.”
Ivory wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, but she giggled as she leaned over and touched her lips to his. “Believe it, cowboy. You’re going to be a father.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Whitney pulled up to her house again, a defeated sigh moving through her body at the sight of the truck there. Brand-new and shiny, the huge blue vehicle set her blood on fire. “Blake,” she muttered, her emotions surging. She felt wild, out of control, and angrier than she’d ever been.
She got out of her car and didn’t bother to get the small bag she’d packed with a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. She hadn’t wanted to leave Seven Sons without talking to Jeremiah, but he’d marched out the back door and disappeared onto the ranch. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and he hadn’t come back after a couple of hours.
She’d texted him that she was going to spend the night in town, at her house, and she’d love to see him when he was ready. He hadn’t answered.
Blake got out of his truck too, and Whitney’s fingers clenched into fists. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You and I are not together. We’re not going to get back together.”
“Hey, wait,” he said as if he actually wanted to get back together with her. He held up both hands. “Who was that guy at the bakery?”
“That man is my husband,” Whitney said. “And you’ve ruined so many things in my life. I’m not letting you ruin this too.” Because Jeremiah was the very best thing that had ever come into Whitney’s life. In that moment, she knew she wouldn’t stay at her house, waiting for him to come to her. She’d spent so much of her life waiting for a man to come to her. She’d pined for Blake while he was gone. She’d hoped and prayed he’d come back to her when he finally returned to Three Rivers.
“You do not get to kiss me, or touch me, or wait in my driveway like you have a right to be here.” She folded her arms. “You should leave. Now.”
Blake looked like he had no idea what language she’d spoken. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Whitney knew then that he’d played her for years. In the back of his mind, she’d always be there. Steady, stable, stupid Whitney.
Pure humiliation pulled through her. First because she’d given him so much power for so long. And second, because she’d abandoned Jeremiah once for Blake. What a mistake that had been—she would not be repeating it.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll go.” He turned back to his truck and got behind the wheel. Whitney returned to her car too and backed out so he could get to the street. He drove awa
y without looking back, and Whitney knew he had no intention of staying in town, no matter what he said.
Tears came to her eyes, and she didn’t even know why. She should be proud of herself for what she’d just done. She’d taken the trash out of her life, leaving space for what—and who—really mattered.
And yet, somehow, it still hurt that he’d just gone. Even though she knew she wasn’t important to him. Even though she knew he’d have left in two weeks or two months.
She pulled back into her driveway, but she had no desire to go back into the house where she’d taken a nap that afternoon. She wanted to talk to Jeremiah, and she decided enough time had gone by since texting him to call him.
His line rang and rang, and Whitney’s pulse accelerated with every sound. She’d called him dozens of times, expecting to get an angry bark for a response. But he’d always answered, and this silence and way he ignored her sliced through her in a whole new way.
He’d cooked for her once when he was trying to get back together with her. Should she make dinner for him?
She’d thought the cake would help convince him that she hadn’t been sneaking around with her ex-boyfriend. But he’d barely looked at it, and the sneer in his voice had eradicated any hope Whitney had harbored as she’d followed him from the bakery to the homestead on the ranch.
“What do I do?” she asked the empty air around her. She didn’t want to talk to Patsy or her mother about this. Dalton had been spending more time after school at Bowman’s Breeds, and Whitney didn’t want to trouble her teenage nephew with her real-world relationship problems.
The person she trusted most to give her the best advice was the one not talking to her.
Call Callie came to her mind, and Whitney fumbled the phone she flipped it over so fast. Callie Walker was Jeremiah’s best friend, and Whitney had her number in her phone.
The line rang once before Callie said, “Heya, Whitney.”
“Callie,” she said, so relieved the word burst from her mouth. Problem was, she didn’t know what else to say. Jeremiah didn’t like gossip, and Whitney didn’t either. She didn’t want to go running to his best friend to see if he’d said anything about her. Not only that, but she wanted to be his best friend.
Pushing aside the twinge of jealousy, she asked, “Have you heard from Jeremiah?”
“Yeah, he was here a while ago,” Callie said. “He helped with my beehives for a bit, and then he went back toward Seven Sons.”
“Oh.”
Whitney had likely left before he’d returned. That, or he’d been hiding out in one of the barns or stables. He liked to take an afternoon nap in the hay loft, and Whitney wondered if she should grab a sandwich from his favorite shop and head back to the ranch. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean she couldn’t walk around until she found him.
But maybe he didn’t want to be found.
Whitney’s heart flopped against her ribs like it was dying, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“We’re having a family meeting tonight,” Callie said. “Did you know about that?”
“No,” Whitney said. She loved the Walker family, as well as Callie and her sisters. Moving into the homestead had been easy, natural, for her. She’d experienced several family meetings over the past couple of months, and she always came away with the renewed sense of how much these people loved each other.
They wanted to share their lives with one another. Good things. Hard things. Health concerns. Successes. Failures.
And Whitney wanted that too.
“What time?” she asked, her stomach quaking at the thought of showing up at Jeremiah’s family meeting without talking to him first.
“Six,” Callie said. “It’s here at the Shining Star. I’m making pulled pork.”
Whitney didn’t want to ask, but she felt like she should. “Am I invited?”
“Of course,” Callie said. “You’re Jeremiah’s wife.”
“He’s upset with me.”
“I could see that,” Callie said. “He didn’t tell me why. He left with Liam for a bit.”
Then Liam knew, and Whitney wasn’t sure if she should be humiliated or angry. Or maybe neither. “Will you tell him I’m coming?”
“Oh, I can’t do that,” Callie said. “You should tell him yourself.”
Yeah, Whitney should do a lot of things. Didn’t mean she was going to. “Thanks, Callie.” The call ended, and Whitney once again looked out her window. She’d left Jones and Jess at the ranch, and the cats were happy there. They roamed the bedrooms upstairs, and they’d even ventured outside, especially to the shed, where they’d found a nice pocket of mice to snack on.
Both cats still curled up on her feet to sleep, and Whitney couldn’t stand the thought of being without them for even one night. Without Jeremiah.
Confusion needled her mind, and she ended up laying her seat back and closing her eyes. She couldn’t go in the house. She couldn’t go back to the ranch. Maybe she’d just stay here for a while.
Whitney finally dragged herself into her house when the wicked, winter west Texas wind threatened to blow her car over. She didn’t have much in the way of groceries, and she ran back outside to go to Wilde & Organic. The store sold meal kits, and she bought one of those, as well as a pound of butter.
With everything else in her pantry, she could make chocolate chip cookies. She planned to eat her lonely dinner for one, make the treats, and head back to Seven Sons and try to catch Jeremiah after his family meeting.
Maybe with chocolate and sugar, she could sweeten him up enough to talk to her.
Six o’clock came and went.
About six-twenty, several texts came in at once, and Whitney’s heartbeat pulsed around behind her tongue. Maybe Jeremiah had finally figured out how he felt and what he needed to say.
But none of the texts were from him. One from Evelyn, another from Ivory, and a few from Callie.
You’re not feeling well?
Can I bring you dinner?
Miah looks miserable. Have you talked to him?
He says you’re sick. Let me bring you the rest of this pulled pork.
Maybe I can bring it by tomorrow. Miah says you work until almost noon?
Whitney pieced together things pretty quickly. Jeremiah had told everyone that she wasn’t feeling well, and that was why she wasn’t at the family meeting. She frowned at her phone, not quite sure how to answer. No, she wasn’t feeling well, though she wasn’t plagued with morning sickness. She didn’t need dinner. She didn’t need pulled pork.
She was sick, but not with anything that an antibiotic or a meal could fix. Her heart hurt, and her stomach clenched, and her hormones seemed way out of control as she started weeping again.
She didn’t want to lie, so she flipped her phone over and put her head down as she cried. Only when the timer on the oven went off did she get up to take the cookies out. But she’d lost her drive to finish baking them, to drive the twenty minutes down to the ranch, to face her husband.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jeremiah slept in the homestead alone that night. Well, his two pups had kept him company. Winston and Willow were good friends, and the only time they wanted to be away from him was when they needed to go outside.
Double well, Wyatt and Micah were also at the homestead, and they shared a bedroom down the hall from Jeremiah’s and Whitney’s. Wyatt hadn’t wanted to be alone in case he needed help in the middle of the night, and Micah had been willing to share.
Jeremiah hadn’t seen either one of them since the family meeting. Of course, he’d gone straight to his bedroom after returning from dinner at the Shining Star, where Callie and Liam had shared their news about getting two kids by January with everyone. Tripp and Ivory had shared that she was pregnant. And everyone had wanted to know where Whitney was.
He’d said she was sick. Not feeling well. If she was pregnant, he hadn’t lied.
Jeremiah hated the if’s in his life. Hated that his wife was
n’t with him for dinner and cheerful family announcements. Hated that they hadn’t been able to make their own.
He sat in his recliner and read the Bible, trying to focus on the words Paul had sent to the Ephesians. He couldn’t. He’d re-read the same passage of scripture over and over, and he finally closed the book and set it on the table next to the chair.
Looking around the room, he was only reminded of how big it was. How big, and now how empty. Whitney had set up her computer and photography needs in the front office, so his desk still sat cleanly, with a lamp on the surface and his puzzle books hidden in the drawers.
His mind raced, though, and he couldn’t imagine being able to settle down enough to solve anything.
He’d made a mess of his life, and he couldn’t fix that.
“You can,” he muttered to himself. “Call your wife.” Winston lifted his head and looked at Jeremiah, as if the cowboy had said something of great importance to his dog. Jeremiah reached over and stroked the dog absently, taking comfort from his presence, his pure devotion to Jeremiah, even when he did stupid things like run away and say he needed time to think.
Whitney had texted him and called him, and he’d ignored her. His gut writhed over that, because he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a ghosting, and it was not pleasant. He remembered how uneasy he’d been, how much he’d obsessed over what he’d done wrong, how strong the speculation and self-doubt had been.
At the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her yet.
He picked up his boots and put them in the closet. He showered, though he would again in the morning. He went to bed early, not expecting to be able to fall asleep. But when he did doze off, only to be awakened after full dark had settled over Texas. He slept fitfully all night, seeming to wake up or doze off every few minutes.
By the time he dragged himself out of bed and back into the shower, a sense of exhaustion filled his muscles in a way he’d never experienced before. His ranch ownership meeting was that morning, and he took his time scrambling eggs and frying bacon, making coffee, and serving Micah and Wyatt.
