“Did you rule it out? Or do you think that’s what it could be?” She drew in a breath. Held it.
“We haven’t ruled it out.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but not gravely serious. Was that a good sign? “But my colleague agreed with me that if there is hydronephrosis, it is only to a slight degree.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she struggled to follow what he was saying. “That’s good, right? How serious do you think it is?”
Gazing out her studio window, she hoped for good news with all her heart.
“We are always glad to know about things like this ahead of time,” he explained as the background noise from the hospital behind him quieted. He must have stepped into an office or private hallway. “That’s why we look carefully at the scan. But to answer your question, we are not concerned about your baby’s development and don’t need additional scans.”
The air rushed out of her lungs so fast she had to hold on to the windowsill. Relief flooded through her.
“We will want to monitor the baby carefully at birth through the first few days to be sure the kidneys function properly so we can intervene quickly if necessary,” Dr. Hutchinson continued, “but treatment would be a short or more prolonged course of antibiotics. Nothing surgical.”
Abigail felt like a boulder of worry had just rolled off her shoulders. Her baby would be fine. Healthy.
“Thank you so much.” She wanted to shout it from the rooftops that her baby girl was all right. “I’m so happy I don’t know what to say.”
On the other end of the call, the doctor surprised her with a warm chuckle. “As a new father to triplets, I assure you, I can identify with what you’re feeling. Nothing is more important to a parent than the health of their children.”
As she disconnected the call, feeling like she had a new lease on life, her first thought was to contact Vaughn. He would want to know the baby was healthy.
But would that be fair to him after the way she’d lashed out at him for drawing away? Her chest ached with the knowledge that it wouldn’t be right to call him now. No matter what, she loved Vaughn. She couldn’t deny that in the clear light of day now that she’d had more time to process the shock and hurt of the breakup. Yes, she still hurt from losing him. Yet she wanted him to be happy, even if that meant living the isolated life he’d chosen.
She pulled her gloves back on and slid her safety goggles into place, taking her seat at the workbench. She would lose herself in her art for a little while, needing to give a voice to the knot of emotions inside her.
At least she knew what she was sculpting now. A little statue that she would send as a gift to Vaughn. A small way to apologize for hurting him. It didn’t begin to patch the hole in her heart. But maybe, with any luck, it would help bring him a measure of peace to know that she and her baby still cared about him.
And always would.
* * *
Vaughn smashed a tennis ball across the net on the courts behind the Texas Cattleman’s Clubhouse, venting his frustration with his racket.
His opponent, Hutch, the same doctor who had read Abigail’s ultrasound scans, shocked him by returning the ball with an athletic backhand from the line.
A return shot Vaughn couldn’t possibly reach.
Damn.
That meant he’d lost the game and the set along with it.
“Nice shot,” he admitted grudgingly, sweat dripping down his back in the unrelenting Texas sun.
They’d started playing early to get ahead of the heat, but they’d tied in game after game, extending the set far longer than Vaughn had imagined they would be playing. He had finally tracked down Hutch for a round of tennis, selfishly hoping to reassure himself about Abigail’s ultrasound. Vaughn knew better than to violate her privacy, not that Hutch would have allowed it. But since Abigail had invited him to be in the room during the scan, he thought that at least allowed him to know if he should be worried—if he should stop by and see Abigail or lend his professional weight to finding the best specialist the country had to offer. He would call in every favor he had to make sure she had the care she needed—even if she didn’t want him around.
“I surprised myself.” Hutch grinned. “I think that burst of speed was fueled by the fear I was going to have to forfeit if we tied another game.” Shaking his head, he stalked toward the bench on one side of the courts, where there was a canopy for shade. “I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow.”
Vaughn joined him at the bench where they’d left their bags and Ruby, in full view of the court and inside the fenced area for her safety. He dug in his cooler for a fresh water bottle and cracked open the cap, topping off Ruby’s dish before he released her to play, giving her one of his old tennis balls. The retriever could catch almost anything in midair.
“I seriously doubt that.” Vaughn yanked off his headband and tossed it in the bag along with his racket. “Recover fast so I can have a rematch and restore my honor.”
“Sure thing.” Hutch found his own cold drink and dropped onto the bench. He took the ball Ruby had already returned and tossed it to her again, the dog happily chasing it after her quiet time in the shade during the tennis match. “Have you spoken to Abigail recently?”
Regret mixed with guilt. “No.”
A situation he planned to remedy immediately.
“I think you should get in touch with her.” Hutch’s eyes met his.
Vaughn sank to the bench beside his friend, thoughts of Abigail—of how he failed her—a weight on his shoulders. On the tennis court next to them, a foursome set up for doubles. The club was
