The Baby Promise. Carolyne Aarsen
air felt brisk and cool and the snow crunched under her boots as Beth trudged up the driveway. She was glad she had gone for a walk when she had come home from work. The fresh air cleared the cobwebs of worry and concern from her head.
As she walked closer to the yard she heard the sound of a tractor. She glanced at her watch, then frowned.
Bob usually did the chores in the morning. Not at three in the afternoon. She didn’t see his truck when she came home so she had assumed he and Ellen were gone. She shoved her hands in the hoodie she had pulled on over her sweater before she left her house and walked toward the sound, wondering what was going on.
As she approached the corrals where the cows were housed for the winter, she saw the tractor dropping a bale of hay in the feeder along the fence. The tractor turned and faced her, then stopped.
And Nick jumped out of the cab.
She hurried toward him as he vaulted over the fence, running, calling her name.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you feeding the cows?”
Nick slapped his gloves together, a concerned expression on his face. “I had to bring Bob to the hospital this morning—”
“What happened?” Beth stared at him, blood roaring in her ears as she wavered on her feet. Not again, please, Lord, not again.
Nick reached out and caught her by the arm, steadying her. “It’s not life-threatening. He was repairing the front-end loader and it came loose and fell on him.”
Beth clutched her stomach against a sudden pain. “Are you sure he’s okay?”
“He broke his leg, but the doctors set it and Ellen is with him right now.”
Beth pressed her hand to her heart, then took a long, slow breath.
Nick frowned, moving closer. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. I’m just…it’s just…” She couldn’t fit her emotions into the uncertainty of words. “You’re sure he’s okay?”
“Yeah. I tried to call you.”
“I left my cell phone at home.”
“I came back to do the chores, which didn’t get done this morning, so that’s why I’m still around.”
He sounded a bit defensive, as if unsure of her reaction.
“How long will it take for him to recuperate?” Beth asked.
Nick hunched his shoulders against a sudden gust of wind, then shifted as if to shield her from it. “I don’t know. The doctor said he’d be in the hospital for a few days and then lots of physio. He broke his femur, so while not life-threatening like I said, it’s still serious.”
Beth swayed again, then realized that Nick was still holding her arm. She pulled away. “I should go to see him.”
Nick shook his head. “He told me to tell you to stay home. He doesn’t want you driving.”
“That’s silly. I have to go see him.” She turned to go back to the house when Nick caught her by the arm again.
“Give me about half an hour to finish up here and I’ll drive you.”
She was about to protest when another spasm seized her stomach. What was going on? The doctor had told her everything was fine just yesterday.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
He blew out his breath then his voice grew stern. “Let me drive you to see Bob. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Beth drew in a long, slow breath, surprised at the fierce note in his voice. She was about to protest again when she caught his gaze. In that moment she didn’t see a man who was being thwarted—she saw a soldier who was used to commanding.
She gave in and nodded. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll come get you when I’m done here.”
She nodded again, then walked, slowly back to the house, as if testing every step. But by the time she got there the pain was gone. Before she stepped inside, however, she shot a quick glance behind her.
Nick was watching her, his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. Even from this distance she felt the intensity of his gaze.
She stepped quickly into the house, then made her way upstairs to her craft room. She needed to make a card for Bob. It would keep her mind busy while she waited for Nick.
As she pulled out pieces of paper, the general unease that had held her in its grip slowly eased away. Bob would be okay. He would be fine.
Beth pressed her inked-up stamp onto the card, sprinkled the embossing powder over the words she had just inked, tipped over the card and tapped the leftover embossing powder into the container.
She turned on her heat tool and gently waved it over the powder adhering to the stamped sentiment. Though she had done this countless times, it still gave her the tiniest thrill to watch the loose powder adhering to the image slowly melt and become cohesive—one shiny line of color, in this case deep blue, spelling out the words Get Well Soon.
She wasn’t sure why she bothered. She knew exactly what Bob would think of the card. He would give her a patronizing smile and set it aside and wonder once again how his son had ended up with someone so quiet, so different from boisterous Jim.
This was the only way she knew to tell him how she felt, however. Spoken words were easily ignored, misunderstood and ignored.
Words written in a handcrafted card had substance and lasted.
Besides, she had to do something to keep her mind off Nick still working on the yard below her. He was supposed to be gone, not running a tractor only a few hundred feet from the house. He made her uncomfortable and he brought expectations she couldn’t meet. And with those unmet expectations came guilt she thought she had banished months ago.
She didn’t want to pretend to be the grieving widow anymore. She wanted to move on with her life. Leave Jim and the memories of him and the shame he caused her behind her.
The powder melted and she turned off her heat tool and angled the card in the light coming from the window beside her. Not too cute, yet not too elegant. A man’s card, if there was such a thing. She resisted her usual urge to tie a ribbon on it, then picked up her pen and a piece of scrap paper.
She hesitated, the pen hovering above the paper. As always, the words took time coming as she struggled to imagine what Bob would want to hear from her.
She glanced sideways out the window overlooking the yard. From here she saw Nick still feeding the cows, though it looked as if he was filling the last feeder. As he got out of the tractor he walked through the crowd of animals, his movements deliberate and slow. She wondered how he’d got his limp. Wondered what kind of action he’d seen.
He cut the twine on the bale, ignoring the cows milling around him. Then he stepped back, winding up the strings he had just pulled off, his eyes on the animals with their heads now buried in the feeder.
Then he turned as if looking at the mountains. His hands stopped, falling to his side as he stood, perfectly still. Then, with a shake of his head, he returned to the tractor.
What had he been thinking in that moment? What was going through his mind?
He seemed to be so comfortable around the animals. So relaxed. She thought of what he had said last night at Bob and Ellen’s. How he had grown up on a ranch just like Jim had.
Except he seemed to enjoy the work a lot more than Jim ever did. She couldn’t recall Jim ever helping his father or even talking about the ranch with his father. The only reason they moved back to the ranch was for her sake, Jim had said. So she could have a home base and be near his parents.
Nick