Читать книгу Cowboy Daddy - Angel Smits - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

Five months later

THE WAIL OF SIRENS in the distance barely broke through the cloud of pain engulfing Amanda. Her eyes closed. All she could see was the darkness that occasionally sparked with color as she clenched her eyelids tight with each contraction.

“You’re doing great.” Her sister Addie’s voice came out of the darkness, bringing comfort with it. Safe, warm memories of home. Addie was as much a mother to Amanda as Mom had been. After Dad’s death, she’d helped raise all the younger ones in the family.

As the contraction eased, Amanda opened her eyes a sliver. “Thanks for coming with me,” she whispered, managing to squeeze Addie’s hand that was curled in hers.

“Of course.” Addie’s voice shook, and Amanda barely had time to wonder why before the muscles of her lower body went back into action.

This time she couldn’t hold back the scream that ripped from her. Dear God, how did anyone survive this? She thought of her mother doing this six times. Had Mom been crazy? Amanda hadn’t thought so before but now...

Again the pain eased, and her mind drifted to her nephew, her brother DJ’s son, who was turning nine today. “I ruined his birthday.” She didn’t have to explain who she meant to Addie. Poor Tyler. She thought she heard Addie laugh.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Besides, the birthday was a mess long before you went into labor.”

Addie might be right. With all the drama of the Texas Rangers and their brother DJ now recovered and showing up with Tyler’s missing mother—yeah, her going into labor was just a drop in the proverbial bucket of fun.

Addie’s hand was still tight in hers. Slowly her sister wiped the perspiration off her brow. “Something’s wrong,” Amanda finally admitted.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Addie’s voice was stronger now.

“No. It’s too soon.” Even she heard the panic in her voice. “Too early.”

“We’re almost there, ladies.” A man’s voice broke through the cloud of agony. Amanda struggled to figure out who it was. It wasn’t any of her brothers. It wasn’t— No, she refused to think about him. If she thought about him, she’d lose control completely.

Amanda latched on to the stranger’s voice, puzzling through her memory to survive the next contraction. The EMT. Relief flooded her. He was the nice EMT who’d shown up at the house after Addie called 9-1-1.

The ambulance pulled to a sudden stop just then and Addie yelped as she caught herself from pitching sideways. The wailing sound cut off abruptly and the back doors flew open. Warm Texas air washed over her. Until that very minute, she hadn’t realized how closed in the ambulance had felt.

Addie moved away as the EMT leaned over Amanda. The snap of metal buckles opening broke through the quiet. Another contraction hit just then. “We’ll wait.” The EMT’s soothing voice barely registered. “Hold my hand. There you go.”

“Please, just make it stop,” she demanded.

“I’ll do my best.” He seemed so nice. Why couldn’t Lane— The EMTs pushing the gurney out of the ambulance stopped her thoughts. The fast movement nearly convinced her she’d been foolish to have eaten that last piece of birthday cake.

The automatic doors’ swoosh sound washed over her and fluorescent lights flashed overhead. The dizziness returned. “Addie. Where’s Addie?” she cried.

“I’m here, hon.”

Addie’s voice was so far away. Amanda flailed out her arm, trying to find her sister’s hand. Strong fingers took her hand, not Addie’s. Not Lane’s, either, but solid. Warm. Just what she needed.

They pushed the gurney through a set of swinging doors, the smack of the metal frame loud against the wood. Bright lights glared at her. The image of a clock wavered in the distance, white with black numbers, utilitarian. Seven-thirty. Why did that have to stick in her brain? She focused on it, needing something solid and real.

She squeezed her eyes tighter still as a contraction blinded her again. Words flew around her. Her brain hid in the shadows, frightened she was sure. She couldn’t understand what they were saying. What they meant. “Breech.”

“BP’s dropping.”

“You’ll need to leave.”

“Addie!” she screamed.

Through her slitted eyelids, Amanda saw Addie moving reluctantly out the swinging doors. A sharp blade of pain ripped through her. Her voice tore from her throat. “Lane!” Where was he? Why wasn’t he here? Why—?

A strong hand took hers. The soothing deep voice washed over her. “We’ll take care of you.”

Not “I’ll take care of you.” Not “I’m here.” Tears burned behind her closed eyelids, but no matter how tightly she squeezed them shut, she couldn’t hold in the tears. Water trickled from the corners of her eyes, dampening her temples, her hair and then the pillow beneath her.

“We’re going to have to do a cesarean section.” A new voice cut through the clouds. “To save the baby.”

“Please.” Her heart shattered. “Save him. Please. He’s everything.”

There was no pause in the room’s activity. If anything, it increased. Footsteps hustled. Bodies shuffled around her. The prick of a needle in her arm seemed nothing in comparison to her body’s agony, little more than a mosquito bite, as an IV was put in her arm.

“I’m going to put a mask over your face.” Another strange voice slipped in between the pain. The feel of plastic momentarily registered as claustrophobic...and then there was nothing but solid darkness...and the echoing scream of Lane’s name over and over again inside her head.

* * *

TO AMANDA THE fluorescent lights of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU, nursery seemed so harsh. So bright. Too bright. She thought of the tiny bedroom in her house where she’d put all the nursery furniture. The crib. The changing table. The rocker. The L for Lucas alphabet lamp she’d bought right after she’d found out she was having a boy. Even the chair from Mom’s house that she’d put in the corner to give the room a feeling of home. No glaring lights, no monitors or flashing lights there. That’s where he should be. Not here. She wanted to cry.

Slowly, with the nurse’s help, Amanda moved the wheelchair closer to the Plexiglas enclosure where her son curled up against a soft white blanket. Her arms ached to hold him, to touch him, but he needed to sleep, to grow, and she needed to recover. The IV in her arm was a glaring reminder of the long road ahead for them both.

He wasn’t big enough. Not nearly big enough. Not quite five pounds. Bigger than they’d expected, the doctor had said, sounding entirely too pleased for something he’d had no involvement in.

“Wow. You’re really here,” she whispered to the tiny stranger stretched out before her. She marveled at him. He might be small, but everything was there. Teeny tiny fingers. Itty bitty toes. Rounded little ears. Eyes that were closed right now, but she remembered the deep chocolate brown of them...a color he shared with his father. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job keeping you safe,” she whispered, afraid to startle him.

She couldn’t look away, staring at the tiny life she and Lane had created. For some reason, it didn’t hurt so much to think of Lane now. Maybe the pain meds had dulled her senses, too. Maybe her strength was coming back. Maybe.

She felt someone’s presence beside her. She looked up, surprised and pleased to see her brother Wyatt there. A hospital gown covered his T-shirt and jeans. They must have made him take off his Stetson, though she could see the ridge where it had recently sat on his dark hair.

“How you doin’?” He leaned in close, looking at her as well as her son. The kindness was thick in his eyes. Even though he was her brother, she could understand why Emily was so head over heels in love with him. She was a lucky woman. Amanda’s heart hitched, wishing someone would love her like that. The memory of another tall, dark-haired cowboy flitted through her mind before she forced herself to change the subject.

“I’m okay.” She looked back at her son. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“You did a good job.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed. “Everyone’s here—”

That got her attention. “What do you mean everyone?” Surely not the whole birthday party.

“The whole family.” He grinned at her. “Even Tyler wants to see his new cousin. He says he’s never met one of those before.” Wyatt laughed.

That boy was something else. She looked at her son. How much like Tyler would he be? How much like Lane? Her heart ached. And in that moment she realized all of her pain. Mentally cursing, she leaned back in the wheelchair. She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to keel over, either. The staff probably already thought she was a terrible mother. It had taken her nearly half a day to wake up to see him. Surely they wondered what she’d done wrong to cause all this.

“Let’s get you back to your room.” Wyatt stood behind her and gripped the chair’s handles. It felt strange to let someone else make decisions for her, but if anyone was capable of doing that, it was Wyatt.

“Where’s Addie? I need to thank her.”

“Oh, you’ll have to wait. She’s standing in line outside, hoping to see the little guy.” He laughed again.

“In line?”

“Yeah, I pulled rank and came in first. The rest want a peek, but they only let a couple of us in at a time.”

She glanced over her shoulder up at him. “Even Jason?” Her brother, the attorney, was about as disconnected from humanity as anyone she knew. He couldn’t possibly be interested in a baby.

“Yeah, even Jason.”

Wyatt pushed her wheelchair out into the hall, and sure enough, everyone was there, lined up. Even Tyler. She had to laugh. The hospital gown was way too big for him, dragging over his shoes, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Wyatt rolled her over to see him.

“This is so cool.” He leaned against the arm of the wheelchair. “The baby and I have the same birthday! Thanks, Aunt Mandy. This gift’s almost as good as my new bike.”

Everyone laughed while Mandy gave him a hug, then winced as he leaned against her.

“Let’s get you back to bed—you did just have major surgery, you know.” Wyatt headed down the hall. “The nurses only let you up for a short while.”

She wanted to argue, because that was what she always did. But she knew he and the nurses were right.

Though she was in the maternity portion of the hospital, it felt more like the surgical unit. Her room definitely wasn’t the nice comfy suite she remembered being shown all those months ago.

Her disappointment in the accomodations was, of course, balanced by the fact the doctors had saved her life and her son’s. She tried to make her tired brain focus on being thankful.

As Wyatt passed the nurse’s station, he waved down a nurse, who followed them to the room. The sun had moved higher, leaving shadows in its wake. Wyatt flipped on a soft light and she wondered why the babies didn’t get that same consideration. Once the nurse had her settled in the bed, the blankets pulled up and tucked in, she struggled to stay awake.

Wyatt didn’t leave. He simply settled in the wooden chair next to the bed. Oh, God. He wasn’t leaving until he asked the question in his eyes. “It’s not fair to take advantage of me in my weakened state,” she whispered, leaning deep into the pillow, letting her eyelids droop.

“Weak is not a word I’d ever associate with you.” He smiled. Having discarded the hospital gown, he looked more like Wyatt now. He didn’t speak, simply sat there, looking at her with that intense stare she’d hated as a kid.

“Fine. Go ahead. Get it over with.” She closed her eyes again, dread a palpable being standing right there beside her.

“I won’t force you to tell me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But—”

She’d never known Wyatt to be hesitant. She waited until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “But?”

“But if that were my son—I’d want to know.”

“How...how do you know I haven’t told him?”

Wyatt laughed. “Because I know you, Mandy.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The man who is that boy’s father is someone you care about, probably even love. No man would ever touch you unless you wanted him to. Unless he was worthy of you. And if you’d told him, he’d be here.”

The air grew thick. She knew Wyatt hadn’t guessed who the father was. Nor had he pressured her to tell him. Looking at Wyatt now, she realized that reprieve was coming to an end.

Their gazes clashed, and she knew the instant he decided to back off. Temporarily. He stood and stepped right up to the edge of the bed, looking down at her.

“If that were my child—” he repeated and stepped back “—I’m not sure I could forgive you for not telling me. Ask DJ about that.”

Turning on his heel, Wyatt left her without another word. Her heart sank. She knew DJ had struggled to deal with his anger toward Tammie for not telling him about Tyler. But this was different—she had tried to tell Lane. She had. Really.

Weariness wrapped around her. Who was she trying to convince? Damn. She really hated it when Wyatt was right.

* * *

LANE DROVE INTO the yard at his work, the Hawkins Ranch, pulling into his usual parking spot. He climbed out, looked around. He’d expected a half-dozen cowboys to be in the barn, but the place was surprisingly empty for the middle of the afternoon. Even the horses were out and about. He could see Dancer and Prism in the near pasture, bouncing in the grasses, playing and showing off for the fillies. Lady was pointedly ignoring the male posturing.

Wyatt Hawkins’s big ranch house looked just as quiet. Lane headed up the walk, noting again the lack of noise. What the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Had something happened? He’d left Wyatt a message earlier to tell him that he’d be late for work today. Dad had been worse than usual this morning, so there’d been no leaving him.

Finally, Lane saw movement on the horizon. A dust cloud rose as someone headed this way. He turned back, greeting the truck as it turned into the drive. The ranch foreman, Chet, with his wife Juanita in the passenger seat. Where had they gone to in the middle of the day?

“Where is everyone?” Lane asked as the older man climbed out, walking around the battered Chevy to help his diminutive wife hop down from the high seat.

Lane saw a look pass between them—not a good sign. “What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing bad.” Juanita took several long seconds smoothing her faded jeans. Lifting her head, she looked at her husband, then back at Lane. “We go to Dallas for that boy’s birthday party, and end up at the hospital. Thank God, it was for a good reason this time.”

Ah, yes. Tyler Easton’s birthday party. Lane vaguely recalled declining the invitation. “How is a hospital a good reason?” Something about all this felt weird. Very weird.

Juanita laughed. “A baby, silly man.”

“Baby? Whose baby?”

Chet chuckled. “Not ours,” he teased his wife, shaking his head as he closed the truck door and reached in the bed of the truck for the bags of groceries. He handed two to Lane. The heaviest ones, Lane noticed.

“Oh, hush, old man,” Juanita said. “Let’s get these inside before everything defrosts.”

Carrying the groceries behind the older couple, Lane patiently waited. Neither one of them spoke, acting as if he’d never asked a question. What was the big mystery? He recalled Juanita’s earlier words.

“So, who had a baby?” Curious, Lane finally asked again. He could tell Juanita was bursting with the news.

She and her husband looked at each other again. Juanita grinned. “Amanda had her baby today. She’s a bit early, but not too much.” Juanita’s excitement overwhelmed her concerns. “We’re gonna have another little one to spoil around here.” She started unpacking bags. “You pay attention, young man. Start thinking about your own family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Juanita never ceased to give advice to the hands around the ranch, playing matchmaker and pseudo-mother on a regular basis. Normally, Lane could ignore her. Today, not so much.

“Amanda Hawkins? Mandy?” he asked.

“You know any other Amandas around here?” Juanita opened the refrigerator to put the milk away.

Amanda? His Amanda? Mandy and baby—they’d used those two words in the same sentence. His brain couldn’t wrap around that concept. Last time he’d seen her...she’d been far from pregnant...in the pickup cab...in the pouring rain.

Without much prompting, his brain did some quick, very disturbing math. She’d come back to town that night, for some mysterious reason, according to Trina. She’d never said what. A bit more simple division and multiplication had his heart racing. That night after her mother died. When they’d found themselves alone...here...

Two grocery bags hit the tile floor. He cursed and stalked to the door. He was halfway to his truck before he turned to yell back at the house, “Which hospital?” Dallas had a few.

Chet appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Dallas General. Why?”