Searching for serenity, she had fled the ranch a month after Erik’sdeath, settled in a new place on the opposite side of the state, gotten a boring jobthat paid the bills and prepared to await the birth of her child. Erik’s baby. Heronly link to the husband she had adored, but hadn’t always understood.
She stopped the dark thoughts before they could spoil her festive holidaymood. There was no point at all in looking back. She had her future—she rested ahand on her stomach—and she had her baby, though goodness knows she hadn’tplanned on being a single parent. Sometimes the prospect terrified her.
She found a station playing Christmas carols, turned up the volume andsang along, as she began the last hundred and fifty miles or so of the once familiarjourney back to White Pines. Her back was aching like the dickens and she’dforgotten how difficult driving could be when her protruding belly forced her to put theseat back just far enough to make reaching the gas and brake pedals a strain.
“No problem,” she told herself sternly. A hundred miles ormore in this part of the world was nothing. She had snow tires on, a terrific heater,blankets in the trunk for an emergency and a batch of homemade fruitcakes in the backthat would keep her from starving if she happened to get stranded.
The persistent ache in her back turned into a more emphatic pain that hadher gasping.
“What the dickens?” she muttered as she hit the brake, slowedand paused to take a few deep breaths. Fortunately there was little traffic to worryabout on the unexpectedly bitter cold night. She stayed on the side of the road for afull five minutes to make sure there wouldn’t be another spasm on the heels of thefirst.
Satisfied that it had been nothing more than a pinched nerve or a strainedmuscle, she put the car back in gear and drove on.
It was fifteen minutes before the next pain hit, but it was a doozy. Itbrought tears to her eyes. Again, pulling to the side of the road, she scowled down ather belly.
“This is not the time,” she informed the impertinent baby.“You will not be born in a car in the middle of nowhere with no doctor in sight,do you understand me? That’s the deal, so get used to it and settle down.You’re not due for weeks yet. Four weeks to be exact, so let’s have no moreof these pains, okay?”
Apparently the lecture worked. Jessie didn’t feel so much as atwinge for another twenty miles. She was about to congratulate herself on skirtingdisaster, when a contraction gripped her so fiercely she thought she’d losecontrol of the car.
“Oh, sweet heaven,” she muttered in a tone that was partprayer, part curse. There was little doubt in her mind now that she was going intolabor. Denying it seemed pointless, to say nothing of dangerous. She had to take aminute here and think of a plan.
On the side of the road again, she turned on the car’s overheadlight, took out her map and searched for some sign of a hospital. If there was onewithin fifty miles, she couldn’t spot it. She hadn’t passed a house formiles, either, and she was still far from Harlan and Mary’s, probably a hundredmiles at least. She could make that in a couple of hours or less, if the roads wereclear, but they weren’t. She was driving at a safe crawl. It could take her hoursto get to White Pines at that pace.
There was someplace she could go that would be closer, someplace only fivemiles or so ahead, unless she’d lost her bearings. It was the last place on earthshe’d ever intended to wind up, the very last place she would want her baby to beborn: Luke’s ranch.
Consuela would be there, she consoled herself as she resigned herself todropping by unannounced to deliver a baby. Luke probably didn’t want to see herany more than she wanted to see him. And what man wanted any part of a woman’slabor, unless she happened to be his wife? Luke probably wouldn’t be able to turnher over to Consuela fast enough. With all those vacant rooms, they probablywouldn’t even bump into each other in the halls.
Jessie couldn’t see that she had any choice. The snow had turned toblizzard conditions. The world around her was turning into a snow-covered wonderland, asdangerous as it was beautiful. The tires were beginning to skid and spin on the road.The contractions were maybe ten minutes apart. She’d be lucky to make it these fewmiles to Luke’s. Forget going any farther.
The decision made with gut-deep reluctance, she accomplished the drive bysheer force of will. When she finally spotted the carved gate announcing the ranch, sheskidded to a halt and wept with relief. She still had a mile of frozen, rutted lane tothe house, but that would be a breeze compared to the five she’d justtraveled.
A hard contraction, the worst yet, gripped her and had her screaming outloud. She clung to the steering wheel, panting as she’d seen on TV, until itpassed. Sweat streamed down her face.
“Come on, sweet thing,” she pleaded with the baby. “Onlya few more minutes. Don’t you dare show up until I get to the house.”
She couldn’t help wondering when that would be. There was nobeckoning light in the distance, no looming shape of the house. Surely, though, itcouldn’t be much farther.
She drove on, making progress by inches, it seemed. At last she spottedthe house, dark as coal against the blinding whiteness around it. Not a light onanywhere. No bright holiday decorations blinking tiny splashes of color onto thesnow.
“Luke Adams, you had better be home,” she muttered as shehauled herself out from behind the wheel at last.
Standing on shaky legs, she began the endless trek through the deepeningsnow, cursing and clutching her stomach as she bent over with yet another ragged pain.The wind-whipped snow stung her cheeks and mingled with tears. The already deepeningdrifts made walking treacherous and slow.
“A little farther,” she encouraged herself. Three steps. Four.One foot onto the
