same age as them. Why didnât she have any of that? Even before she lost the baby, all sheâd done was work, ever since theyâd moved out to Bly Ranch.
âYouâre not back at the vet clinic, are you?â Jane asked. âI took Libris in last week and Mrs. Christian was at the desk.â
Dr. Christian was holding Miriamâs job for her. His mom was filling in, though she really didnât want to work full-time.
âNot yet,â Miriam said. âSoon, though.â It was the same thing she told Wade when he asked. Sheâd enjoyed the job, used to come home full of stories about the pets and their humans. It felt like years ago. Like sheâd been a different woman. Now it took all her energy to make it through the day, what with meals to prepare, housework, the garden.
Her energy was coming back, though. Slowly. Her enthusiasm for life would surely come back, too.
Her love for Wade wouldâNo, what was she thinking? Her heart raced and she put a hand to her chest, pressing against that wild flutter. Of course she hadnât lost her love for her husband. She would never stop loving him. Just like sheâd never stop loving Jessica, or her parents or siblings.
It was just that love, right now, was more of a knowledge than a feeling. She knew she loved her family. She knew she loved sunny mornings and wild strawberries and riding across open meadows. She just didnât feel it. Not physically, not emotionally. Her mind recalled what it was like. How sometimes it was a warm glow that settled deep in her bones, and other times an overpowering rush that filled her heart and brought tears of joy to her eyes. Surely one day sheâd experience that again.
And yes, sometimes she did resent Wade and Jessica. Not just for the demands they made on her, but for the way they carried on with life as if thereâd never been a baby. As if she hadnât lost her ability to have children. As if she werenât a hollow shell.
That was why she couldnât feel, couldnât taste, couldnât even focus on a task. She was a shell, a dry husk. Empty. Empty but for grief, resentment, anger, guilt.
Everyone said there was nothing she could have done to save her baby. But she knew differently. She should have known something was wrong. Should have gone to the doctor earlier. And even if her poor tiny boy was doomed, she wouldnât have needed a hysterectomy. One day, there could have been other children. But sheâd been stupid, irresponsible. She hadnât paid attention to the signs her body was sending her. It was her fault.
All her fault.
Did Wade blame her? He was so careful with her, like he was tiptoeing on eggshells in his Roper boots. She was never sure what he was thinking. Of course, even when he did talk to her, she had trouble focusing on what he was saying.
Speaking of which . . . Damn. Sheâd completely tuned out her girlfriends. This was what always happened. She tried to concentrate, but then her mind turned inward and she lost the drift of the conversation.
âI need to run,â Jane said. âI have an appointment at one.â
They settled the bill and the four women left together and said their good-byes on the street. Miriam couldnât wait to get back to the ranch and take a nap. Lunch had worn her out.
âDonât forget that milk,â Connie said.
âOh, right.â Yes, sheâd forgotten that she hadnât finished grocery shopping.
Walking back to the store, Miriam pulled out her list. Milk, butter, desserts. And there, in Jessâs printing with a big star drawn around it, was something else sheâd forgotten: âPick up Ev at library at 12.â
She was an hour late. Okay, sheâd get him first, then go back for groceries. One thing about Evan: He wouldnât complain. He was the most polite child.
It was a nuisance driving him to and from the ranch, but he really was a nice boy and a good
âYouâre not back at the vet clinic, are you?â Jane asked. âI took Libris in last week and Mrs. Christian was at the desk.â
Dr. Christian was holding Miriamâs job for her. His mom was filling in, though she really didnât want to work full-time.
âNot yet,â Miriam said. âSoon, though.â It was the same thing she told Wade when he asked. Sheâd enjoyed the job, used to come home full of stories about the pets and their humans. It felt like years ago. Like sheâd been a different woman. Now it took all her energy to make it through the day, what with meals to prepare, housework, the garden.
Her energy was coming back, though. Slowly. Her enthusiasm for life would surely come back, too.
Her love for Wade wouldâNo, what was she thinking? Her heart raced and she put a hand to her chest, pressing against that wild flutter. Of course she hadnât lost her love for her husband. She would never stop loving him. Just like sheâd never stop loving Jessica, or her parents or siblings.
It was just that love, right now, was more of a knowledge than a feeling. She knew she loved her family. She knew she loved sunny mornings and wild strawberries and riding across open meadows. She just didnât feel it. Not physically, not emotionally. Her mind recalled what it was like. How sometimes it was a warm glow that settled deep in her bones, and other times an overpowering rush that filled her heart and brought tears of joy to her eyes. Surely one day sheâd experience that again.
And yes, sometimes she did resent Wade and Jessica. Not just for the demands they made on her, but for the way they carried on with life as if thereâd never been a baby. As if she hadnât lost her ability to have children. As if she werenât a hollow shell.
That was why she couldnât feel, couldnât taste, couldnât even focus on a task. She was a shell, a dry husk. Empty. Empty but for grief, resentment, anger, guilt.
Everyone said there was nothing she could have done to save her baby. But she knew differently. She should have known something was wrong. Should have gone to the doctor earlier. And even if her poor tiny boy was doomed, she wouldnât have needed a hysterectomy. One day, there could have been other children. But sheâd been stupid, irresponsible. She hadnât paid attention to the signs her body was sending her. It was her fault.
All her fault.
Did Wade blame her? He was so careful with her, like he was tiptoeing on eggshells in his Roper boots. She was never sure what he was thinking. Of course, even when he did talk to her, she had trouble focusing on what he was saying.
Speaking of which . . . Damn. Sheâd completely tuned out her girlfriends. This was what always happened. She tried to concentrate, but then her mind turned inward and she lost the drift of the conversation.
âI need to run,â Jane said. âI have an appointment at one.â
They settled the bill and the four women left together and said their good-byes on the street. Miriam couldnât wait to get back to the ranch and take a nap. Lunch had worn her out.
âDonât forget that milk,â Connie said.
âOh, right.â Yes, sheâd forgotten that she hadnât finished grocery shopping.
Walking back to the store, Miriam pulled out her list. Milk, butter, desserts. And there, in Jessâs printing with a big star drawn around it, was something else sheâd forgotten: âPick up Ev at library at 12.â
She was an hour late. Okay, sheâd get him first, then go back for groceries. One thing about Evan: He wouldnât complain. He was the most polite child.
It was a nuisance driving him to and from the ranch, but he really was a nice boy and a good
Similar Books
