My brain finally catches up, and I prepare myself for the appointment. That ache is grief. And if she’s right, we won’t be hearing a heartbeat today.
I drape an arm around her, wishing I had the slightest clue what to do.
When the nurse calls us back, Bluebonnet introduces me as her husband. And we’re escorted to a room.
She sits on the exam table, and I’m standing next to her. Letting go of her hand isn’t an option right now.
After running through a few standard questions, the nurse looks from Bluebonnet to me. Seeming to read the mood, she asks, “Are there any concerns you want to discuss with the doctor?”
Bluebonnet squeezes my fingers. “I’ve been spotting today.” Her chin quivers. “But until today, things were fine.”
“I’ll let her know. She should be in soon.” The nurse walks out and closes the door.
And the torturous wait for answers continues.
* * *
Not once sincewe walked out of the doctor’s office has Bluebonnet made eye contact. Silent tears stream down her cheeks, and I feel helpless.
When we get home, I open her door. “What can I do?”
Shaking her head, she gives a shrug.
“Is there anyone you need me to call? Do you want food? I don’t know what to do.”
She gives an attempt at a smile, but it only frees more tears. “Food would be good.”
“I can do that.” After she climbs into bed, I pull the blanket over her. “Do you want me to call Paisley?”
“Not right now. I’ll tell her later. She’ll come over, and I don’t want to be around people.”
That’s her nice way of telling me to leave her alone.
I nod, trying not to reveal how much the words sting. “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Take your time.”
Alone in the truck, I drive to the little grocery store in town. It’s not big, but I can usually find some good junk food when I need it. Questions bounce around in my head, some that I can’t ask right now and others that I’m afraid to ask.
In the store, I meander up and down the aisles, not seeing what’s on the shelves. I’m looking for her favorite things, but all the labels are a blur. I rub my face, willing myself to focus.
I grab pickle-flavored chips, three kinds of ice cream, and an assortment of chocolate bars. Then on my way to the registers, I spot the flowers. I pick up three pretty bouquets, then get in line. I haven’t been great about surprising her with flowers, and if she decides she wants to stay with me, I’ll do better.
After leaving the store, I pull through the drive-thru. A voice squawks out of the little box. “What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have a double cheeseburger, and another double cheeseburger with extra pickles. No mustard, Extra mayo.”
“Did you want fries with that?”
The words hit me, and I choke back a sob long enough to answer. “Yes please, and two Dr Peppers.”
Bluebonnet has avoided fries since the day I proposed, but she doesn’t have to avoid them anymore. I drag a sleeve across my face as I pull up to the window. And God bless the sweet older lady at the window, she pretends not to notice that I’m crying. But I know she does because her “have a nice day” has an extra sweetness to it, like it’s an actual wish and not just words she repeats a hundred times a day.
Driving back toward the ranch, I let my tears fall. I don’t want to let Bluebonnet see me crying because she needs me to be strong. But this morning’s nervous excitement has twisted into a gut-wrenching grief. And if I feel that way, I can’t begin to understand how much pain she’s experiencing.
And there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
Parked outside the cabin, I shoot off a text to Kent.
