The Baby Promise

Chapter Three

Nick watched Beth’s car leave in a plume of exhaust, confusion and frustration vying for the upper spot in his mind.

When she said goodbye, a part of him rebelled. As he looked into her eyes he felt a stirring of a disloyal emotion. He didn’t want this to be the end.

But who did he think he was? Not some white knight riding in to save the damsel in distress. He was nothing but trouble and the farther he stayed away from Jim’s beloved wife, the better.

He turned back to his shoveling. This, at least, he could do for her.

When he was done, he straightened and a jolt of pain clutched his hip. He clenched his teeth, riding it out. Maybe cleaning her walk wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

As he took a long, slow breath, he looked around. His eyes followed the contours of the fields, softened by snow. A cluster of brown dots broke the white expanse beyond the cattle feeders. Some of the more adventurous cows had moved away from the corrals where they were fed and out into the field.

Nostalgia drifted over his mind at the scene. His parents’ ranch had been nestled along a lush river valley between two mountain ranges. The fields were long and narrow, rather than open and spread out, but it created the same feeling in his soul.

A yearning for a time when his life had purpose and a center. A time when he had a family.

He tried to laugh away the melancholy feeling as he shouldered the shovel and limped slowly back to the ranch house. It was better this way. When he talked to other men in his unit, men like Jim who had families, they always had the extra worry of wondering what would become of their people if something happened to them.

He had no attachments and no concerns. Today he was heading back to Calgary. Maybe he would rent a motel room there for a couple of nights. Then he’d be off to Vancouver to visit an old friend.

Or not. At any rate, he was leaving today.

“Nick. Nick…”

Nick paused, listening. Was that Ellen’s voice he heard over the running of the tractor?

She sounded scared, and he started running.

He hurried past the house, cursing his limp as he rushed toward the corrals and the sound of Ellen’s voice.

“Nick, please help.”

He clambered over the fence and saw Ellen on her knees, Bob lying on the ground beside the tractor.

“These look really good, Beth. Just beautiful.” Shellie laid the cards out on an empty table in the back room of the craft store.

Beth clenched her hands behind her back. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

Shellie pushed her long red hair back from her face and sighed. “Why are you insisting on keeping yourself so busy?” Shellie glanced down at Beth’s stomach. “I mean, you’re going to have a baby.”

“But I need to keep busy,” Beth said.

“Can I give you some advice?” Shellie put her hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Jim’s been gone less than three months. You’re nearly eight months pregnant and you’re still coming here and working. You need to let yourself grieve. This silence of yours isn’t healthy.”

Beth grew cold and taut as Shellie spoke, then turned away. “I don’t want to talk about Jim,” she said as she sorted through her cards.

“I know how much this must hurt.” Shellie continued, ignoring Beth’s comment. “And you don’t have to try to be so strong all the time. You are allowed to cry. Jim’s mom and dad are worried about you. They say you haven’t shed a tear since the funeral.”

“I’m okay,” Beth insisted. “I’m probably still in the denial stage of grief.”

“Maybe you are. I still think you need to talk about Jim.”

Beth pressed her lips together, holding back the words that at times demanded to be spoken.

Beth had learned the hard way that words didn’t change things. Would Shellie believe her if she told the truth about Jim? Would his parents? Dear Bob and Ellen Carruthers whose eyes would drift to her stomach whenever they came to visit, as if to reassure themselves that part of their son lived on in the child that Beth carried.

The child she would take away from them.

Beth knew she could never tell them about Jim. Part of her reluctance was knowing nothing would be gained by taking those memories away from them.

The other was her own shame. She had taken Jim back twice and he had cheated on her a third time. She didn’t want anyone to know that.

Thank goodness Nick would be gone by the time she got off work. At least she wouldn’t have to face him and hear his stories about how much Jim missed her.

Beth pulled a few more cards out of her briefcase. “I thought if you carried these, people would be interested in finding out how to make them, so I was thinking we could maybe have a Saturday craft class.” She slid two cards toward Shellie. “This one,” she said, lifting up an intricate card. “I’d love to do a video tutorial on this one. For a potential blog.”

As she laid out her plans she could almost feel Shellie’s impatience with her reticence washing over her.

“Beth, honey, we have talked about this before. I don’t think people would come to the classes. I don’t want to do a blog and I highly doubt video tutorials are going to make any difference for us. You’re reaching too far.”

Ever since Beth started working for Crafty Corners, she had plans and dreams for the store well beyond Shellie’s. Her boss had taken the store over from her mother when it was just a hobby store and seemed content to keep the store what it was—a small craft store that sold products for local crafters.

She wasn’t sure herself why she bothered trying to persuade Shellie to change the focus of the store when she was leaving. It was just that Beth knew the place had so much potential and it bothered her to see it go to waste.

When Shellie guessed Beth wasn’t saying anything more, she turned back to the cards. “I guess I could sell these,” Shellie said, picking up some of the Valentine’s cards. “And you can stick around for a bit this morning because you’re here already, but I want to see you leaving here at noon.”

Beth put the rest of her cards back in her briefcase and set it on the ground. “I’ll sort out the new inventory,” she said, stifling a sigh. She trudged to the back room where the new shipment of supplies had come in, a gentle hope extinguished. She didn’t know what she really wanted. For Shellie to be ecstatic about what she had created? For her to be excited?

Because if she had seen any encouragement from her boss, Beth might believe in herself a bit more. Might believe there was a way she could channel her passion for cards and paper crafts into something that could augment her widow’s pension. She poured so much of herself into her craft. The cards had started as a way of putting feelings she couldn’t express into words, into pictures, into colors and patterns. Her family may not have listened to her, but they did pay attention to her cards.

She gave cards to teachers, to friends, to her family and slowly it became the one constant in her life. The one constant as she followed Jim from one army post to another all over Canada.

Beth had fought the move back to the Carrutherses’ ranch, but Jim had been adamant. He wanted her around his family before he shipped out to Afghanistan.

In retrospect, Beth was sure Jim had ulterior motives for the move, but at the time she agreed with it to keep peace.

Mostly she agreed to move because the move didn’t affect the plans she had been slowly putting into place.

She was leaving him, moving away and starting out on her own. She had made this decision a week after he shipped out and a week after she found out Jim had cheated on her—again. But she couldn’t leave while he was overseas. So she waited until his return so she could tell him to his face.

But Jim didn’t come back and she was unexpectedly pregnant and all that lay ahead of her was the uncertainty of motherhood as a widow.

As Beth finished sorting the paper, a feeling of self-pity loomed, like a huge black hole ready to draw her in. A hole she could not edge toward because there was no one to pull her back.

She was alone. She had to be strong for herself and the baby.

Her hands slowed as she stared out the window of the shop, watching the wind toss the snow around the streets of Cochrane. It was winter now, but spring was coming. That was a promise she knew would be kept.

The 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 got back into the tractor, reversed and drove it past the other groups of cows. A few moments later he disappeared behind the shed and Beth knew he was parking the tractor, which meant he’d be here soon.

She turned her attention back to the blank piece of paper in front of her. What words could she put in there that would make Bob understand that she appreciated him? What words would be sufficient to let him know her turmoil at being here with such good people when their own son was so different from them?

She tapped her pencil on the paper, fragments of phrases spinning through her mind.

I appreciate your help…

Thanks for your support…

I wish I could tell you how I really feel…

Hope you get better in time for me to move away…

Beth tried to keep thoughts of her future at bay, but they crowded back into her mind, shoving and pushing and demanding attention.

What could she say to the man whose grandchild she would be taking away?

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to marshal her thoughts, then pushed aside her practice paper, picked up her pen and wrote directly on the card. She waited for the ink to dry before she slipped the card in the matching envelope she had crafted.

She hoped he would read it and understand what she was trying to say.

A knock on the door downstairs pulled her away from her tangled, tiring thoughts.

“Come on in,” she called out, getting up. Her back throbbed more than when she had sat down. She arched her back against the pain, then shuffled to her bedroom across the hall to get ready.

She pulled her hair back again, tightening the elastic that held it in place. She did a quick check in the mirror. Her eyes looked too big, her mascara was smudged and she needed some more lipstick.

She grabbed a tube from her makeup basket, then caught herself. She was just going to the hospital. She dropped the lipstick tube, then spun away from the mirror and got the card.

As she carefully made her way down the stairs, Nick hurried forward and took her by the elbow. She was about to pull away, then realized how foolish that would be.

“Thank you,” she murmured, avoiding looking up at him.

“Is this your coat?” he asked, pulling it off the newel post of the staircase.

She nodded and reached for it but he already held it up for her. Again she felt a brush of disquiet when he settled the coat on her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asked when she pulled away again.

“Just not used to being treated like this,” she said with a jerky laugh, hoping to dispel the curious feelings he created in her.

“Really?” he asked with a puzzled frown. “Jim struck me as such a gentleman. He was always helping out the women at the base.”

Beth slipped the card she’d finished into her coat pocket and emitted a humorless laugh. “Of course he was.”

Nick’s frown deepened and Beth realized how that must have sounded.

Nick reached past her and opened the door. She tried not to look at him as she went through. Tried not to be aware of him as he walked beside her.

He made her uncomfortable because his presence brought up memories of Jim. That’s all, she told herself.

But as she gave him another sidelong glance and caught him looking at her, the faint quickening of her heart told her something else.

Chapter Four

Nick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the truck he had borrowed from Bob. His eyes were on the road ahead, but part of his attention was on the woman sitting beside him.

He didn’t usually have a hard time making conversation with women, but Beth was a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

Bob and Ellen eagerly listened to any story he had to tell about Jim, tears slipping down their cheeks at times. Beth didn’t seem to want to hear anything he had to say about Jim.

Maybe this was her way of grieving but there was something unhealthy about her reaction.

“So, how long have you been on the ranch?” he asked finally, wanting to make some kind of conversation to fill the awkward silence.

“Jim moved me here three weeks before he shipped out to Afghanistan.”

“He was based at Suffield, wasn’t he?”

Beth nodded, staring straight ahead, her arms folded over her stomach.

“I know he said it made him feel more relaxed, knowing you were at the ranch with his parents. He said he would have worried so much more if you had been somewhere else.”

In spite of Beth’s lack of response, Nick carried on. It was as if he had to keep Jim present between him and Beth.

Because, if he was honest with himself, his own feelings for Beth were shifting, changing. And not in a way he wanted to acknowledge.

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