The Child Who Rescued Christmas

He visibly froze. “Ruth Warren?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “It doesn’t give her age, though.” Then, because the news had obviously startled him, she asked, “Did you know a Ruth Warren?”

“The one I knew was a schoolteacher,” he said slowly, his gaze speculative. “High school biology. Now that I think about it, she’d always talked about going into nursing. Maybe she finally did.”

“Then it could have been your friend.”

“I doubt it. Even if she did make a career change, the Ruth I knew was scared of heights. She’d always joked about how she’d never get on an airplane.”

“There must be two Ruth Warrens,” she guessed. “Both names are common enough and her surname could be her married name.”

“It’s possible,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Regardless, I’m sure her family, and everyone else’s, is devastated.”

“Hmm.”

“And when a tragedy like this happens close to Christmas, it has to be even more difficult to handle,” she commented, imagining how the season would never again be the same for those left behind. In the blink of an eye for these families, the holiday had lost its inherent excitement.

“Hmm.”

Sara recognized his preoccupied tone. Certain his mind was already racing ahead to concentrate on the day’s hectic schedule, she said offhandedly, “It’s nice that we’re closing the hospital at noon today.”

“Yeah.”

He was definitely not paying attention. “And Administration is doubling everyone’s salaries.”

“That’s nice.” Suddenly, his gaze landed on her.

“What?”

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” she teased.

A sheepish expression appeared on his face. “Apparently not. Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said lightly. “As long as you won’t forget our annual anniversary getaway.”

“I haven’t,” he assured her. “We have reservations for the weekend at the hotel in Bisbee, just as we decided, and we fly to Arizona on Thursday morning. It amazes me that you wanted to stay at that elevation and see snow when we’ll be seeing plenty of it soon enough,” he added in a mock grumble. “A sunny beach would have made more sense.”

“We did the sunny beach last year,” she pointed out. “This is different. Besides …” she gave him a sultry smile “… if we run into any of the resident ghosts that our hotel claims to have, we can bar ourselves in our room.”

He grinned. “I vote we do that anyway.”

As if on cue, Sara’s watch beeped with her five-minute warning. Without looking at the time, she drained her mug and placed it in the sink. “Gotta run or I’ll be late,” she said as she stopped to give him a goodbye kiss.

He threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his solid warmth comforting. “Do we have plans for this evening?”

She thought a minute. “No, why?”

The playful expression she recognized appeared on his face. “I predict I’m going to need a nap when I get home.”

Ordinarily, the prospect would have thrilled her, but not today.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and make a baby tonight,” he murmured with a feral smile and a seductive voice.

If only that were possible …

“We won’t,” she said flatly. “As of a few days ago, I’m not pregnant. It’s the wrong time.”

Her husband’s appreciative gaze turned sympathetic. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Maybe next month.”

Next month. It always came down to next month. For the last year and a half, those words had become her mantra.

“Yeah, maybe.” Avoiding his gaze, she tried to pull out of his embrace, but he’d obviously heard the disappointment in her voice because he didn’t let her go.

“Hey.” His hand against the side of her face was gently reassuring. “It’ll happen. Just be patient.”

After all this time, her account holding that particular virtue was overdrawn. “I’m tired of being patient, Cole. We should see a different specialist.” She finally voiced what she’d been contemplating off and on for the last month. “Dr. Eller could refer us to—”

“Sara,” he chided, “Josh Eller is the best ob-gyn man in this part of the country. You know that.”

“Yes, but another doctor might have a different opinion. He might take a more aggressive approach.”

“A different doctor might,” he agreed, “but Josh hasn’t steered us wrong so far. You’ve gotten pregnant once. It’s only been nine months.”

Sadly, she’d miscarried within days after she’d learned she’d been expecting. Had she not been concerned about what she’d thought was a lingering stomach flu virus, she’d never have gone to the doctor, and when she’d miscarried, she would have attributed it to just another horrible period.

“But nothing’s happened since,” she protested. We should—”

“Be patient. Your body needs time to heal.” “Yes, but—”

“Josh said we should allow ourselves a year and we’re close to that,” he reminded her. “Life hasn’t been so bad with just the two of us, has it?”

While their relationship hadn’t sailed along on completely smooth seas—there’d been a brief ten days when they’d gone their separate ways because she’d despaired of him ever proposing and giving her the family and home life she wanted—she couldn’t complain. “No, but a baby is like the icing on the cake when two people love each other. It—”

He stopped her in midsentence. “A baby will come if and when he’s supposed to. You have to trust that Josh knows what he’s doing. If he says not to worry, then don’t.”

She’d wanted Cole to be as eager to grow their family as she was, and his attitude grated on her. Didn’t he understand how much she wanted this? Didn’t he see that each passing month chipped away at her confidence and self-esteem?

And yet she understood Cole’s propensity to maintain the status quo when it came to his personal life. Although he never said, she guessed that losing his parents at such an early age and the subsequent turmoil in his life had made him reluctant to modify an established routine. She didn’t necessarily like his behavior, but it was a part of his character and she accepted it.

“Look,” she began, “I know how difficult it is for you to change course when you’re happy with the path you’re on. After all, between dating and living together, it took you almost three years before you finally proposed, but you should be as excited about a baby as I am.”

“I am.”

“You don’t act like it,” she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Would wringing my hands and calling Josh every week, pestering him for information and advice, change things?”