Evergreen Springs

Dr. Shaw gestured to the chair and sat beside him after he sank back down. That was never a good sign, when the doctor took enough time to sit down, too.

“For the record, she gave me permission to share information with you. I can tell you that she has a severe sprain from the fall. I’ve called our orthopedics specialist on call and he’s taking a look at her now to figure out a treatment plan. With the proper brace, her ankle should heal in a month or so. She’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks, which means a wheelchair.”

His mind raced through the possible implications of that. He needed to find a housekeeper immediately. He had three new green broke horses coming in the next few days for training and he was going to be stretched thin over the next few weeks—lousy timing over the holidays, but he couldn’t turn down the work when he was trying so hard to establish Evergreen Springs as a powerhouse training facility.

How would he do everything on his own? Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

“The guest room and bathroom are both on the main level,” he said. “That will help. Can we pick up the wheelchair here or do I have to go somewhere else to find one?”

The doctor was silent for a few beats too long and he gave her a careful look.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

She released a breath. “Your sister also appears to be in the beginning stages of labor.”

He stared. “It’s too early! The babies have to be too small.”

Panic and guilt bloomed inside him, ugly and dark, and he rose, restless with all the emotions teeming inside him. She shouldn’t have been outside where she risked falling. He told her she didn’t have to go out to the bus to pick up the children. The stop was only a few hundred yards from the front door. They could walk up themselves, he told her, but she insisted on doing it every day. Said she needed the fresh air and the exercise.

Now look where they were.

“We’re monitoring her condition and I’ve been in consultation with the best ob-gyn in the valley. We’ve given her some medication to stop her contractions and put the brakes on. It’s been less than an hour, but so far it seems to be working.”

He sat back down, relief coursing through him. “Okay. Okay. That’s good. Isn’t it?”

“It’s still too early to tell. We have to keep her overnight up on the obstetrics floor to continue monitoring fetal activity.”

“Sounds wise.”

She paused for a long moment and he tried to sort through her silence for whatever else she might not be telling him.

“There’s a chance she might have to stay longer. I just want to make you aware of the possibility. She’s a complicated case—multiple births are always a little tricky. Add in an ankle injury that’s going to make it tough for her to get around at home and possible premature labor, and her chances of needing hospital bed rest go up. I’m consulting with the ob-gyn but that’s one of the options hanging out there.”

Hospital bed rest. Damn. Could things get more complicated?

“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

She glanced at the children, then back at him. “You’re all welcome to go back and talk to your sister. I think she’s feeling pretty alone right now.”

He nodded and rose again. “Thanks. Kids. We can go back now.”

“But, Dad! This one is almost over!” Jazmyn exclaimed. “Can’t we wait ten more minutes to see the end?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. First she didn’t want to watch the show; now she didn’t want to leave until she saw the end.

That just about summed up their life together. She was never happy with anything he did. If he made pancakes for breakfast, she insisted she wanted French toast. If he tried, in his fumbling way, to put her hair in pigtails, she told him she wanted a ponytail that day.

It was driving him crazy—and he had a feeling that was part of the reason both women he had hired to help him had lasted only a few weeks.

The doc gave him a sympathetic look. “If you’d like, I can stay with the children for a few minutes until the show is over while you have a moment alone with your sister.”

Her thoughtfulness surprised him. In his experience, physicians weren’t usually so solicitous. “It’s just a TV show. She can catch it online later. I’m sure you have other patients to attend to.”

“Right this moment, no. You actually caught us on a slow night. I’ve got to answer a few emails, which I can easily do out here while you talk to your sister for a few minutes.”

He hated needing help. It was the toughest thing about being a single father, but in this case, he decided it would be stupid to argue.

“Thanks. The minute the show is over, you can send them back.”

“No problem. I’ll buzz you back. She’s in room two.”

She swiped her name badge across the door and he walked back into the emergency department. He found the room quickly. Inside, he found his baby sister looking pale and frightened, hooked up to a whole bunch of monitors.

He hurried over and kissed her cheek. “How are things?”

“I’ve been better.” She shifted positions on the bed to try for a more comfortable spot, something that couldn’t be easy given her advanced condition. “Did you talk to Devin?”

“Briefly.”

“So she told you the ankle isn’t broken.”

“Yes. And that you’re in premature labor.”

“The beginning stages, anyway. So far the contractions have stopped.”

“What happens if they start again?” He didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’ll probably be transferred to a bigger hospital in Boise with a higher level obstetrics department and larger newborn intensive care unit. Even if they don’t start again, I’ll likely be put on strict bed rest from now to the end of the pregnancy.”

“Are the babies okay?”

Her mouth quivered a little. “They seem to be. They’re not in distress or anything, at least for now.”

“That’s the important thing. That you’re all okay.”

Her eyes filled up with tears and her hands scrunched up the edge of the blanket. “Their lungs aren’t fully developed yet. They’re still so tiny. If they’re born now, there’s a chance they’ll have to be on ventilators and might even have brain damage. Premature babies have all kinds of complications.”

“Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet.”

“I should have known I would screw this up, too.”

He reached for her hand and gripped it in his, helpless and worried.

“You need to call Sean and let him know what’s going on.”

Tricia’s mouth trembled slightly until she straightened it into a thin line. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Trish.”