“My parents only want me to be happy, and my grandfather…” She narrowed her eyes, a picture she probably should have seen sooner beginning to emerge. “What exactly did my grandfather say to you yesterday, Declan?”
He paled slightly. “Oh…you know.”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”
“Evie, come on. Eat your pie.”
“Declan, come on. Answer my question.”
He smiled at her. “I just had déjà vu so hard. We always used to talk that way, remember? Echo words and sentences.”
“I remember.” Everything, Dec. I remember everything. Don’t you? “I also remember that you’re really good at changing the subject and managing to use as few words as possible when you don’t want to talk about something.”
“Hey, I brought it up.”
“Then answer. What did my grandfather say to you when you went upstairs with him yesterday?”
He put his fork down and pinned his gaze on her, dark, intense, and unwavering. “He said you should have a baby.”
“Well, that ship has—”
“My baby.”
All she could do was stare at him, speechless and stunned. Had he said…
“Hey.” He tapped her knuckles and pointed at her phone, lighting up on the table. “Doc’s texting.”
She glanced at the message. “Judah’s waking up,” she whispered. “We should go.”
“But we haven’t finished—”
“Why don’t you eat the pie and meet me there? I really want to check on Judah.”
“I meant we haven’t finished our conversation.”
She closed her eyes. “Clearly, my sweet Granddaddy has lost his ninety-two-year-old marbles. So, yes, we have finished the conversation.”
She slipped out of the booth and headed toward the door, more surprised at the sting behind her eyelids than the unexpected and insane turn that conversation had taken.
Sure, they could try. Might even succeed, since there was apparently no reason she couldn’t have a baby.
But then what would happen when he looked at her and remembered that if it wasn’t for her, he’d have a father? What would happen when she went back to her life in Raleigh, and he wanted to take the baby to Waterford Farm every weekend? What would happen when she fell head over heels in love with him, and he went skulking back into his dark place and froze her out again?
No. Of all the options for a baby she’d considered over the years, Declan fathering one as some kind of bizarre favor was out of the question.
Hustling toward the animal hospital, she swiped under her eyes. Well, what do you know? That pie crust really did bring her to tears.
Chapter Nine
Jeez. She was worse than he was when it came to difficult topics of conversation. No wonder they’d gone twenty years without saying all that needed to be said. Which was so wrong for two people who used to tell each other everything.
Declan was still stinging with the frustration of that unfinished conversation when he caught up with Evie at the animal hospital. How could he find out what she wanted, like Ella suggested, if she refused to tell him?
Dr. Rafferty ushered them right into his office, launching them into yet another conversation Declan didn’t quite understand. This one was spoken in the language of vets that unintentionally shut him out as they discussed ambulatory tetraparesis and ataxia and a lot of other terms that were almost as incomprehensible as, Granddaddy lost his marbles, and the conversation is finished.
Sure, he agreed with the first one, but did the idea have to be finished? Not even discussed? Even laughed about or toyed with? Couldn’t they even think, What if?
Or had too much time and silence passed? Or, oh God, worse. Maybe she thought he was offering some kind of quid pro quo for all the lost years. Was that it?
“It is most definitely not cervical stenotic myelopathy,” the doctor said, pulling him back into the current conversation.
“Sadly, no,” Evie agreed.
Sadly? Declan leaned closer, forcing himself to focus on Judah. “It’s not Wobbler Syndrome?”
“It is,” Dr. Rafferty said. “But not bone-associated.”
Evie turned to Declan and put a gentle hand on his arm, the way he imagined she talked to dog owners. “Judah’s symptoms are disc-related, within the spine. Essentially, he has chronic bulging discs,” she said. “Which could lead to a sudden herniation, if not treated. And his problems walking will only get worse.”
He cringed. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Evie turned the medical image toward Declan. “See that circle? Imagine his spinal cord is made up of pieces of pepperoni, and this is a slice.”
“Not a perfect circle,” he noticed.
“Exactly. His is badly misshapen.”
Dr. Rafferty leaned forward. “Judah has a more uncommon form of Wobblers, the kind we can’t treat with meds and nutrition.”
“Surgery?” he asked.
Evie tipped her head and looked at the vet across the table from her. “I know what I think, but I’d like your opinion, Dr. Rafferty.”
“I don’t think a dorsal laminectomy will work in this case. Definitely a CVS.”
“So, no surgery?” Declan asked.
“No simple surgery,” Evie explained. “We’ll have to do what’s called a cervical ventral slot procedure, which means we’ll remove damaged discs.”
“A very tricky operation,” Dr. Rafferty said. “The surgeon needs to know exactly how to operate that drill.”
A drill. Yikes.
“I’ve done this surgery a hundred times, and I’ll gladly do it one hundred and one,” Evie said. “If I’m allowed to use these facilities.”
The other vet looked uncertain. “Policy says no, I’m afraid. We can only let surgeons associated with Vestal Valley College’s Veterinary School operate here.”
“Could you do it at Molly’s office?” Declan asked. “You did Rusty’s surgery there. Brain surgery. That was tricky, too.”
“I’d need the scope to see in the actual spinal column,” she said, then looked back at the other doctor. “I did a rotation here when I was in graduate school. Would that help my case?”
“Honestly? Your impressive credentials are probably all we need,” the other doctor said. “But I have to clear it with the powers that be. That’ll take a few days, though.”
“Can Judah wait a few days?” Declan asked.
“He can.” Dr. Rafferty pushed up. “Though I’d like to bring him back in a day
