Love me ... Again (8 page)

Chapter twelve

Present

The drive passes in a blur of pain and fear.

Pain because I know that the baby is coming one month too soon and it may not survive. I am sobbing as the nurses whisk me through the emergency entrance of the hospital.  I look back and my truck is still on, its old engine laboring behind my back. Much like me.

The halls are white again and images of the whiteness in Colt’s hospital room comes back, it sickens me and I lean over and vomit. They hold me up as the heaves from my pregnant stomach send so much agony through me I slump down in the wheelchair. Strong hands bolster me. They rush me straight to the operating room.

I drift in and out of consciousness until everything starts to wobble, goes grey, then black.

I blink and try to open my eyes. They are swollen and even in sleep I feel the pain rising from my body, waiting to pounce. This also I can’t escape.

I force my eyes open and for several moments soundless tears run down my cheeks as I let the pain do what it wants. I tremble with effort as I drag a hand upward to my belly.

It’s smaller, thickly padded and I feel sunken into the mattress. I look around desperately, wince as more agony streaks through me.

I have to find my baby.

She’s not there and I start to scream. Nurses come running. They jab my arm with a needle. I try to fight them off but my blows fall helpless to my sides. I can only sob.

“Baby … my baby? Where’s my baby?”

The nurse closest to me looks into my eyes and I see pity in hers. She smiles at me and I think that’s the smile nurses should have, soft, open.  She leans down and whispers to me, “Your son is being cared for in the prenatal unit. He’ll be fine.”

I slump, grip her hand in gratitude.  She nods, says something about resting. Moments later she’s gone.

I drift back to sleep.

“Angie?” the voice is soft, familiar.

It’s strangely kind and I latch onto the compassion I sense there. I hadn’t made any friends hopping from one waitress job to the next. Hoping that somehow Jett would show up and forgive-

“Angie?” it comes again, more insistent.

Whatever they’d given me makes it hard for me to battle back from the abyss of sleep I’m floating in. I try hard and my body starts to come back to life. One twitch at a time.

I open my eyes to slits, a face swims in front of mine. The head is silver, sleek. The face.

Marjorie!

Even half asleep I know that determined, serene look.

It hauls me fully back to awareness.

She’s leaning over me. A pale blue jacket makes her blue eyes so much like Jett’s dazzling in their intensity.

Her lips soften in a slight smile, reminding me that she has once been a nurse too. The smile must be a prerequisite of their profession.

She rubs my shoulders, a soothing touch that breaks through the long months of loneliness and desolation I’d suffered. My lips begin to tremble.

She sees it all in my eyes and leans forward and gathers me as gently as a newborn into her arms. I sob on her shoulder. I thinks she cries too but when she releases me the composure I’d come to know is back in place. Not one strand of her French chignon is out of place. And her makeup is perfect.

This makes me smile, and she grins back.

I say on a stuttering breath, “You don’t hate me?”

Her grin widens.  “Not anymore,” she admits dryly.

I sigh, glad that that’s gone from me.

I break away from her knowing eyes, look down and grab a fistful of the sheet spread over my bulging middle, “Um … um, how’s Jett?”

She rustles above me and moves from my bed.  She walks across the room, her back to me is stiff.  She sighs and there’s unhappiness there too. She says, “I don’t know. He left the day after…” she stops and struggles to compose herself, “the day after Colt died. Didn’t say where he was going.”

I shrink in on myself. Jett is gone. How could this proud, fair woman not hate me? I’ve destroyed her family.

I keep my eyes closed to try and block out the image of her leaving me behind.  “You don’t have to stay. I’m glad that you came to see me,” the words are hot and they burn my throat from the ache inside them.

She turns back to me and all traces of her sadness is gone, there is amusement in her eyes, “You can’t get rid of the old mother-in-law so easily. I haven’t even seen my grandson yet.”

“You’re not my mother-in-law anymore.”

She chuckles, comes back to my bed.  “That’s where you’re wrong. Jett has never said anything about breaking your engagement and until he does that’s what you are.”

Stunned by this little bit of information I lay still and she grabs this opportunity to render me speechless, “You’re coming home with me. Our grandson when he’s strong enough.”

I try to get up but she holds me down, “rest,” she admonishes firmly.

“No!” I say breathing heavily, holding her eyes, “I can take care of myself and my child.”

She quirks a brow and her face hardens, reminding me that she doesn’t take shit from anyone.  “Is that why you nearly bled to death?”

“Being pregnant is not the easiest thing,” I retort stubbornly.

She chuckles as she gets to her feet ready to go.  “Tell me about it,” but she fixes me with hard blue eyes, “you’re family no matter what you and Jett do and we’ve tried to stay out of your life long enough and look and see what almost happened,” she shudders, “this bullshit is over.”

She’s goes and I lay back and wonder what the heck’s gonna happen when Jett comes home and finds me there. What am I going to do?

Chapter thirteen

Four months later

Teag is smiling rakishly at me from his tummy, his chubby arms stuck out on either side of him, his head held high.

I scoot down to his level and place a kiss on his rosy cheeks, he gurgles and tries to catch a loose curl of my hair plopped in front of my face, he loses his balance and collapses to his stomach.

But he doesn’t cry. He rolls over onto his back and I scoot over him and start to tickle the life out of him.

He squirms and twists under my fingers.

Later after a feeding he goes down for a nap. It’s only midafternoon and Marjorie is in the big, airy kitchen which sits at the back of their rambling, two story ranch home. Getting together a beef stew.

I take up a knife and start to pare potatoes.

“No,” Marjorie stops me, without turning around she passes me a bucket filled with vegetable parings, “I’ve enough potatoes, take these to the compost out back,” she goes back to the vegetables.

Sticking my feet into two old boots stacked neatly beside the door leading out to the garden, I step outside and start walking. The compost heap is a few yards away up a little hill that rises behind the ranch house.

I lift the bucket and my fingers go nerveless, the bucket plummets to the ground. Drops hard on my left foot, onion peel and celery parings tip over the top and dump on me.

Jett is in front of me. Bearded, taller and … very angry. His eyes are the color of a frozen lake under sunlight, hard and dangerous.

Marjorie hadn’t met my eyes in the kitchen. Now I know why.

“Jett!” the words leave my mouth with a whispery whoosh.

I shift my hands to my hair, realizing that I’d not brushed it this morning. After waking at dawn I’d helped Michael with a baby cow that’d lost its mother a week ago.

Jett’s eyes don’t soften as they follow my hands to my hair, before I let it fall back resignedly.

I want to smile but his stern look stops me, “Hi,” I say weakly.

He doesn’t answer. Just stands there watching me.

He moves then, rapid as an arrow and he’s in front of me, he’s standing right in the muck from the bucket but he doesn’t seem to mind, he grabs my chin and jerks it up to his. His eyes search mine, again and again as if he’s looking for something.

I try to stay calm, though I’m quivering and dying all at once. His touch is something I thought I’d never feel again. And now I close my eyes and welcome it back like a lost friend that has been gone way too long. The dry sensation of his strong fingers beneath my chin feels like a soothing balm that has stopped at least one wound from bleeding.

He doesn’t speak just keeps searching my eyes. Then finally he drops his hand and walks away back down the hill towards his parent’s home. His shoulders are stiff and wider than when I’d last seen him.

He’s changed so much!

As I watch him go, I start to breathe again, suck in deep gulps of clean morning air. He disappears from sight inside the house.

I bend and start to pick up the discarded vegetable skins.

My chin throbs with the memory of his touch. What had he been searching for in my eyes?

As I pick up a squash peel, I see that my fingers are shaking uncontrollably. I stop and clench them together.

“Get a grip,” I mutter between clenched teeth.

I linger as long as I can over the task of gathering the compost veggies but I have to finish. Going back down the hill I come to the kitchen door. I stash the bucket in a nearby shed and before I can run away I shove open the kitchen door and step inside.

Marjorie is at the stove stirring the Dutch oven pot. The broad kitchen island made from aged oak is empty, the copper pots hung above dazzle benignly. Marjorie turns and meets my eyes, there is compassion in her gaze and a keen understanding as she studies my frightened face. I look away. She’d known. Of course. She’s his mother. I stomp to the coffee pot and pour some.

I gulp it down without tasting the fresh, aromatic beans which Michael roasts himself.

Then I hear Teagan’s gentle cry from upstairs. I drop my cup with clatters to the island, not bothering to look to see if I spilled my coffee, I rush upstairs to the room we share.

I slam the door behind me and gather him from his crib. His tear brightened eyes gaze mournfully at me.

His eyes are a clear, sparking blue, like Jett’s. I wince. Hang my head and wrap him securely in my arms. Teagan’s eyes are yet another thing I’ve done to hurt Jett, though I’d had no control over that, cause there is no way Jett could be his father. We’d never made love. We’d wanted to wait to make sure we were a right fit. I groan and hide my face in Teagan’s clump of soft, baby hair.

I settle cross-legged on the plush, cream carpet and breastfeed Teag. I heave a sigh of relief that I don’t have to go down until dinner time. So I hide. Skipping breakfast and lunch until starving, I glance up at the stuffed Kermit clock over Teag’s crib. 4:30 p.m. Dinner’s at five. I have another half hour to pull it together. To pretend that seeing Jett again didn’t make me hurt all over.

A knock comes at the door. Teag stirs in my lap where he’d fallen asleep. He opens his eyes and fusses for a second but quickly settles down.  “Come in.”

Jett walks into the room. I don’t rise from the carpet as he closes the door behind himself. He drops down almost without a sound next to me.

I wrap Teag close to my chest, he squirms at the unexpected embrace and I force myself to loosen my death grip on him. I’m afraid for so many reasons as I sit trapped with nowhere to escape.

Jett’s eyes go to the baby, then back to my strained face. He holds out his hands, “Can I hold him?” he asks gruffly.

“No!” I blurt. Raw emotions zoom to the surface.

Jett doesn’t reply, he simply keeps his hands out, I struggle and then give in. I reach out carefully and turn Teag to face him so that he can see Jett’s face before he finds himself in his arms.

Teag goes without complaint. My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop him. Jett reaches out to steady me.

Jett’s big, brown hands settle like a blanket around Teag’s plump, tiny body. He looks down into the curious eyes that are identical to his own, then back up at me. Strong emotions darken his eyes.

“Colt would’ve been proud.”

My lips tremble and I can’t stop the tear that sneaks out. I dash it away impatiently.

Jett looks back at me, his eyes are filled with shadows making them deep and dangerous like a storming sea.

“I’ve missed you,” he says in a gruff voice and for a moment I find it impossible to process his muttered words.

He’s searching my eyes carefully. There is no anger in his, just heartache and … resignation. The thought crushes my insides.

Can he … can he still love me?

Quickly I drop my gaze to my hands which I realize I’m wringing, making the skin pinched and gray. “Me too,” I whisper, I tilt my face up and smile bravely at him, “I’m glad you’re back.”

He grins. Relief flickers across his eyes. His cheeks turn red and embarrassed he ducks his head back to Teag who’s now reaching out to him, demanding his part in the conversation. Jett turns all his attention to him.

I get up and slowly head for the bedroom door, neither of them watch me leave. I try hard not to cry as I snatch one last glimpse of Teag playing with the man who’d wanted to be his father.

I head down to the kitchen in time to set the table for dinner.

Marjorie avoids looking at me and wisely says nothing. She walks around the table and pours fresh spring cider into crystal glasses.

Michael comes in through the kitchen door, his eyes alight on the cider and he walks over and promptly drains his glass, provoking a hiss from Marjorie who refills it.

Michael walks up to me and he spots immediately that I’m hanging on by a very thin thread. Without a word he wraps me in a huge, comforting hug. I sigh as I settle against the steadiness of him. My father and mother had disowned me the moment they’d learned about Teag and that I was not going back to school right away. Michael and Marjorie had stayed out of my family feud but had supported me from the moment Marjorie had visited my hospital room.

Now Michael lets me go and casting a devilish glance towards their stove, he sniffs appreciatively and heads over towards the Dutch oven.

I watch the stairs for what seems like lifetimes during which I thoroughly mangle my bottom lip with worry. Should I go back up? What’s happening? I haven’t heard Teag cry and if he’s put-out there’s no way he won’t let you know it.

Then the scuffle of confident footfalls comes through and they appear. At five o’clock on the dot. I smile despite the anxiety in my stomach as Jett descends the stairs, Teag confidently snuggled in the crook of his arm. Jett looks at me and I look away quickly. Teag is glancing around, calm and confident, his little chubby hands clutched in the comfortable collar of Jett’s shirt.

Jett takes the chair beside Teag’s high chair and settles Teag into it. I wait for him to move back to the right side of the big oak dining table and take his place at Michael’s right but he doesn’t. He stays beside Teag, and reluctantly, avoiding everyone’s eyes I move to the other side of my son. We’re both flanking Teag as if we’re his parents.

I’m silent throughout the meal. And wonder yet again how somebody as slender as Marjorie can cook such succulent, delicious meals. As bites disappear into my mouth, I feed Teag a bowl of garden fresh green beans which he paints across his face without really eating it. As dinner comes to a close, I jump up, mumble my apologies and hustle Teag back upstairs to prepare him for bed.

I stay upstairs until I hear everybody go to bed, then checking on a sleeping Teag one more time before I come back down to the kitchen. It’s deserted. I pull on a light jacket and head outside into the night.

Making my way back up the little hill, I pause when I feel eyes on me from behind a large pine tree standing in my path.

He comes out, “Why are you staying here with my family?” his voice is soft, curious.

I settle down into a pile of soft grass, wrap the jacket firmly around me from the cooling night air.

I shrug, “because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Jett sits down a few feet away, his back against the pine tree, “Your family-”

“Teag is my family!” I cut him off.

The night’s clear and I catch his pained grimace.  “Your parents cut you loose?”

I nod stiffly, catch my lip between my teeth. We had rarely spoken about my parents. But Jett knew what they wanted for me, an arrow-straight career, to live in the city, I’d always been afraid I’d suffocate from it all. I’d escaped by coming out here with Jett to the ranch.

“What happened, Ang?” Jett asks after a long moment.

I still, rest my head on my ankle. The words start to come and I don’t know where they’re coming from. They just are.

“I fell in love with him.”

“Thought you were in love with me,” Jett reasons quietly, his voice grates low with inhuman control.

My eyes snap to his and the pain I feel mirrors the look on his face. “That didn’t stop.”

“Then why?” he roars and catapults to his feet.  He stomps over to me, grips my arms in his and hauls me with only a fraction of the strength of a man who is primed to make his living off the land.  I jolt to my feet. Breathing hard, I stare up at him. But even in his rage I would never be afraid of Jett. But that did not mitigate his intimidation factor one jot. I’d forgotten that he’s well over six feet tall, perhaps an inch taller than Colt had been. Somewhere in the last year since we’d met he’d gone from my college sweetheart to a man. One who apparently had a short leash when it came to bullshit.

He rakes my wide eyes with a remorseless gaze.  “You can’t love two men Ang, that’s not fucking possible!” he barks, answering his own question.

I’d grown up to. I wrench myself out of his hold, pain goes outward from my heart and starts to beat in my blood, I glare up at him.  I’m shaking and spluttering, “I did and I do,” I shout, I shove a finger to my chest. “I’m obviously screwed up, I don’t know why. But before I knew it, he was there in my heart and I couldn’t push him out.”

Jett sneers down at me, his lips pull back over white teeth.  “That’s a weak excuse!”

I swing away from him, but he cuts across me, blocks my path, “Stay put,” he bellows, “You don’t get to fuck up my heart and tell me you couldn’t stop it!”

I stagger back, furious and ashamed. Cornered I lash out, “You can’t control what I feel Jett,” I storm up into his rigid face.

Jett flings himself back from me, as if he can no longer trust himself so close to me. He rakes a hand savagely through his hair, which I notice for the first time has grown down to nip at his collar.

“You didn’t have to sleep with him,” he groans, his voice thick with betrayal.

His pain silences me. Mocks all the outrage and anger I feel. I hang my head and look off into the black patches of night cloaked hills about our little valley.

I smile without humor, “I know. But he gave me Teag. He’s the only thing I’ve got left that belongs with me.”