I nodded, familiar with the way practitioners counted weeks since the first day of last period.
Bea gave a sheepish smile. “My due date is actually your birthday, Hollie. Christmas Day.”
Even though my response was genuine and excited, I couldn’t help but be distracted by Peter’s camera. He shook his head in agitation and their mic suddenly muted. Of all people here, Peter should’ve been happy for Bea, even if their timeline didn’t seem smart to him. Bea and Peter were so close. What was his problem? Their camera turned off for a moment too. Hopefully, Sarah was talking some sense into him.
“I take it you’ve seen a doctor then?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve actually been to the doctor a lot of times.”
I frowned. “Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
“I’m okay, but I’m way sicker than I imagined I would be.”
Peter’s camera flicked back on and everyone stilled in order to hear her.
A storm brewed in Peter’s eyes. “What kind of sick?”
“Like nausea and stuff?” Jackie asked.
“Yeah, nausea.” Bea took a shuddering breath. “But I’m also throwing up a good bit.”
Bentsked. “Everyone throws up when they’re pregnant, right?”
“I didn’t.” I chimed in with a shrug.
Estelle asked, “So is it normal sickness?”
“No, not really.”
Mom shook her head but stayed silent. I narrowed my eyes, searching Mom and Bea’s faces through the screen.
Bea’s response irritated Tag to the point of finally talking. His drawl filled the silence. “She’s gonna downplay what’s happenin’ so people don’t make a fuss.” He took the phone from her, centering it on his face. “She wanted to deliver the news face to face but had to cancel her plans ‘cause she’s been in and out of the emergency room.”
We all gasped. Mom and Dad nodded—they knew.
A chorus of questions came.
Bea rested her head on Tag’s shoulder again as he tried to answer them all as best he could. “It’s not mornin’ sickness or normal at all. It’s something called, um…” He floundered for a second. “Hyper…” He glanced down at Bea so she could fill in.
“Hyperemesis gravidarum.”
My stomach dropped. When I went to a new mom’s class before Izzy was born, I met a mom who had that. That mom told me it felt like slowly starving to death. Or maybe I was misremembering. For Bea’s sake, I hoped I was.
“Yeah,” Tag continued, “we call it HG. She’s sick ten, twenty, sometimes thirty times a day and has lost a ton of weight. She’s so weak she can barely walk around the house anymore. When she gets really dehydrated, we have to take her to the ER for fluids.”
“Are the doctors helping?” Jackie asked.
Tag shook his head in annoyance. “We went to the hospital three damn times before anyone would even listen to us.” His protective instinct was coming out in his animation and the way he jerked his head. It was the most I’d ever heard him talk. “But they eventually got her on a pill that dissolves. It helps a little.”
Estelle’s voice squeaked. “Is the baby going to be okay?”
Tag nodded. “We got an ultrasound a few weeks back. Baby’s fine so far.”
The ramifications of this hit my brain one by one. From the bits and pieces I’d gathered about Bea’s new life in Texas, she wasn’t sitting on a cushion or kicking back to relax. She was working. In fact, it wasBeawho opened a bed and breakfast at the ranch last year.
My family peppered Tag and Bea with questions, but didn’t ask the one thing blaring through my mind. When a gap in the conversation appeared, I asked, “So, what about the bnb? Who’s taking care of that right now?”
Tag took a deep breath. “Right now, me and my foreman, Jesse, are kinda tag-teamin’ it.”
