Ian spoke about Cassie’s strength and sweetness. No one in the group could doubt his love for her. “Cassie was with us for too short a time, but in her last days, she was able to accept and understand the pain from her past. That peace allowed us to find love and happiness. That’s all anyone can ask, even if it’s only for a short time.” He stepped from the lectern and kissed the head of the casket before taking his seat.
The service ended with the processional to the cemetery, where Eagle’s Talon was keeping the mausoleum under continuous surveillance. After a brief prayer, the crowd dispersed. It was time for more waiting.
Twelve weeks had passed since the stabbing. Three and a half weeks had passed since Cassie's faked death. And even though they knew most of the story, they were no closer to resolution.
* * *
When Cassie awoke, Hunter, Stephanie, and Martin were in the sitting area. Their concerned faces brought the night back to her, the memories emerging like hellfire. She jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom.
Hunter leaned over her while she vomited, then handed her a wet washcloth. “Honey, give us time. We’ll get this under control.”
After the feeling passed, he left Cassie to wash up, then Stephanie helped her dress. Against the brightly colored outfit, Cassie looked gray.
“Hey, Gator. You look beautiful.” Martin smiled as she came out of the bathroom.
Cassie huffed. “I’m as green as a gator. Maybe Ian should pay for a better eyeglass plan.”
“Come sit, Cassie. Stephanie is going to stay a bit, and Martin will be outside. When you’re done, I want you to rest. We’ll see if you can tolerate a little tea and toast.” At Hunter’s mention of food, Cassie ran to throw up again.
Uneasy, Hunter walked downstairs to speak with Pete and Lillian. “How is she?” Pete asked.
“She’s in trouble. She’s still vomiting what she doesn’t have. Her electrolytes will skew fast if they aren’t already.”
“Virus?” Lillian asked.
Hunter stared at her for a long moment. “Lillian, I need to know: are you Cassie’s nurse or Ian’s mom?”
“Both,” she answered without hesitation. “Oh my.” She stood up. “How far along is she?”
Hunter handed the blood tests to Pete. “Three weeks or so from conception. Probably due in May.”
“Does she know?” Lillian asked.
Hunter said, “Not yet … and when she does, it is up to her to tell Ian. That’s our obligation.”
“I won’t break her confidence.” Lillian looked out the window.
Pete tapped his fingers on the report. “She’s still at least fifteen pounds underweight. Look at her numbers. If this is hyperemesis, can she even support a pregnancy? What’s the plan?”
“First off, does she want this baby? We need the answer. I suspect she will more than anything, but until we ask… One of the best high-risk OBs in the country happens to be on staff at University. I want to speak with her to get as much information as possible before I tell Cassie anything.
“The immediate plan is gut rest. Tuck had good instincts. He ran the test and gave her the Unisom last night. It was a safe choice,” Hunter said, then gave specific dosages of ginger and B6.
Pete pushed back from the table. “Anything else?”
“I’ll write the note and make the call. Give her twenty-five milligrams of Unisom now. It might break the cycle. Lil, are you okay?” Hunter asked.
Her gray eyes crinkled with worry. “Yeah, I have to be, don’t I?”
Ian walked in. “What’s wrong?”
His mother laughed. “Ian Chase, why do you always think something is wrong? Cassie is with Stephanie, and we are just finishing up a lovely lunch.”
“Did she eat?”
“Sit.” Hunter pulled out a chair. “She’s still throwing up, but we’ll get it under control. I’m gonna run some tests and go from there. Don’t pressure her to eat. Food can’t become a battle between you two.”
Ian yanked his tie open. “You’re keeping secrets. Seventy-two hours—and I start digging.”
