“A little.” She shrugged and looked away.
He set the bag from the diner on the small nearby table, next to a water bottle and an open package of saltine crackers. He perched on the edge of the other lounge chair, resisting the urge to scoot it closer to hers.
“I know you have Lottie here to cook for you, but I thought you might like some of Aunt Charity’s chicken noodle soup.”
“That sounds good. Thank you. I’ve had a hard time keeping some foods down lately.” The words were meant for him, but she aimed them at her clasped hands.
Robert lifted the Styrofoam container from the bag and handed it to her, along with a spoon.
Jessie lifted the lid and raised it to her nose. “It smells delicious.”
Then suddenly, she lowered the lid, closed her eyes, and clamped her mouth shut, taking deep breaths through her nose.
She gave Robert an apologetic smile. “I think I’ll save it for later.” Placing the container on the table, she picked up a cracker and took a bite.
She placed her casted hand on her lower abdomen as she fought the nausea, and a sense of déjà vu hit him. In recent months, he’d seen both Amy and Emily frequently place their hand protectively on their stomachs, like Jessie did now.
The air whooshed from Robert’s lungs as though someone had punched him. No wonder Jake and Emily wouldn’t look him in the eye this morning and tell him what was wrong with Jessie.
She’s pregnant.
Shock reverberated through his body, and all of Robert’s nerves reacted. He hadn’t felt this all-consuming confusion since he had to endure the mandatory tazing at the police academy. He bolted to his feet. He needed to move. Needed to leave.
Jessie’s head jerked up at his sudden movement, and their eyes met.
Her brow furrowed.
Robert took a step back. “Um...I’ve gotta go. I hope you feel better soon.” He turned on his heel and hurried down the back steps.
Walking away like that was rude, but he needed time to process this revelation.
Jessie was...is married. So why did the knowledge that she carried another man’s child rip his heart in two?
Without thinking, he walked straight to the stables, hooked a lead rope on the first horse he came to—a black Friesian stallion—and led him to the hitching post. He ducked inside the tack room and grabbed his gear that still hung where it always had.
The stallion pranced sideways as Robert saddled him. The horse was as eager to run as Robert was.
Jake rounded the corner of the building as he mounted the stallion a few minutes later. “Robert, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” The horse again pranced sideways, ready to run Jake over.
“That’s Zeus you’re riding.”
“So?”
“He’s strong, fast, and stubborn.”
“Good.” Robert eased Zeus around Jake, pointed him east, and shook the reins.
The stallion took off.
Robert rode Zeus hard for nearly an hour in a wide-sweeping arc—around the alfalfa fields, up the ridge, then across the summer grazing pastures. He eventually reined the stallion in and circled back toward the northwest and the ranch house. The muscles in his thighs burned from the exertion of keeping himself in the saddle. Without realizing where he’d ridden, he guided Zeus into a grove of trees not far from the house.
This was his favorite place on the whole earth. His and Jessie’s grove. It wasn’t the prettiest spot on the ranch, but he and Jessie had often walked here when they couldn’t take off for a long ride. They’d spent hours here, talking, doing homework, kissing. Sometimes, Robert brought his guitar and sang country music songs while Jessie sketched in her notepad.
He dismounted and looped the reins around a low branch, giving Zeus enough slack to graze near the tree. As if of their own accord, Robert’s feet carried him to his and Jessie’s tree, the one where he’d carved their initials.
Memories came unbidden, tightening his chest as Jessie’s voice from so many years ago played in his head.
