Full hart, p.12
Full Hart, page 12
“Knock off the fighting or I’ll set the table myself,” Chase called to his children before prying himself off the couch and lazily making his way into the kitchen. He was about to cup his wife’s butt, but she spun around with something white between her fingers and told him to open his mouth.
He did as he was instructed.
“Is the gnocchi ready?” she asked.
It was hot, but it was delicious. Anything cooked in fried onions and bacon was delicious. He nodded. “Seems ready to me.”
“Grab some water glasses and fill them for me, please,” she said, turning off the burner for the stove.
He once again did as he was instructed. “So … Grant …”
She turned around a bowl of the steaming gnocchi now in her hand. She walked toward their unfinished-edge wood table with the copper light fixtures hanging overhead. Stacey had gone with a bit of a country house, an almost barn-like theme for their décor, with lots of white accents and, of course, windows. “Yes? What about Grant?”
“He’s …”
“Not the evil monster you men think he is. But I already knew that. He didn’t have to launch himself in front of a car to save our daughter to prove that. At least not to me. Not to Lydia, Krista, or Pasha. Just you, apparently. And Heath. Heath seemed to have warmed up to just above freezing toward Grant by the end of the day.”
Chase grunted just as a herd of wildebeests in the shape of his two children came running heavy-footed down the hallway.
“I hope you didn’t set the table yet, Daddy,” Thea said, “’cause I want to.”
“I didn’t,” he said dryly, setting the full water glasses in front of where each of them sat.
Thea grabbed the step stool from the pantry closet and went about getting down plates. Connor was grabbing the utensils from the drawer.
Chase had to hand it to his wife; she’d trained these kids well. Somehow tricked them into liking chores.
Of course, he was skeptical how long the novelty would last, but for the moment, he and Stacey planned to foster and encourage their children’s willingness to pitch in as much as possible.
As if they didn’t even know how to bicker, the two kids set the table together beautifully and peacefully.
“What’s this I hear about Grant having access to a bus?” he said to Stacey, grabbing the bowl with freshly dressed Caesar salad and taking it over to the table.
She had the chicken thighs on a plate and followed in his wake. “Yeah, doesn’t it sound like a great idea? Grant is licensed to drive thirty-passenger vans. He moonlights as a backup driver for one of the retirement homes. You know, the luxury ones that shuttle their residents around town? He said he could borrow the van for no charge—just gas—and we could all go see the Christmas lights together instead of our usual multi-car convoy and walkie-talkies.”
“We can’t have walkie-talkies?” Connor asked with disappointment.
Stacey rolled her eyes. “No need when we’re all in the same vehicle.”
Connor pouted.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Stacey went on, returning from the kitchen with a big tray of cut-up raw veggies and placing it on the table before taking a seat.
The kids took seats, too, and Chase pulled out his chair at the head of the table.
“So he’s just invited himself along to the Christmas lights, then?” Chase asked, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork and letting it drop to his plate.
Stacey rolled her eyes again and helped dish some gnocchi onto Thea’s plate for her. “No. Your mother invited him, then he offered up the van.” The heated and almost angry glare she gave him next made his asshole pucker just a touch. “Knock it off. He saved your daughter. He’s not a bad guy, and your mother really likes him. You don’t have to like him, but I don’t want to hear any more of this crap.” She pointed at the kids. “Particularly in front of these two.”
Thea and Connor exchanged confused expressions.
Thea picked up a piece of gnocchi and popped it into her mouth. “You don’t like Grant, Daddy? You don’t like the man who saved me? Are you mad at him for saving me?”
Stacey fixed him with a “You made this mess” face.
Ah, fuck.
Chapter 12
Rex & Lydia
“I’m just pulling into the Root Cellar to grab some brussels sprouts,” Lydia said through the Bluetooth hookup on her phone as she pulled into the grocer’s parking lot. “Anything else you can think of that we need?”
It was Thursday mid-morning, and Rex was on his way out to Sooke for an all-day plumbing job. Their phone conversation was getting more and more staticky the farther away he drove.
“Get … yams … marshmallows … spaghetti … limes.”
She turned off the ignition. “Get yams so I can make a casserole with marshmallows, then spaghetti and limes? I missed that last bit.”
“Spag … squash … limes … Caesars. Celery … and pick … ed … eans.”
Ah, now she got it.
“Roger!” she said with a nod. “Good thing we’re so in tune with each other, eh? Otherwise, you’d be disappointed when you got home and I didn’t have spaghetti squash and all the ingredients to make Caesar cocktails.”
“That’s … love … you.”
“Love you, too. Drive safe, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
He disconnected the call, and she pulled her phone out of the holder fixed to her dash. She glanced in the mirror and saw Maeve in the other mirror, sitting in her rear-facing car seat, aggressively gnawing on her fist. The baby was teething something fierce. She only had one tooth so far, but there were a lot of almost erupted ones in her mouth, and it was driving Maeve—actually, their entire household—crazy. Poor kid had been up most of the night crying in pain and pulling on her ears.
Acetaminophen only seemed to help a little bit, as did chewing on a cold wet washcloth. By the end of it, Lydia had taken Maeve out of her crib and gone and cuddled with her on the couch in the living room. They both dozed, but Lydia wasn’t nearly as rested as she hoped to be.
When they got home and Maeve went down for her nap, Lydia was going to make sure she took a nap, too. This pregnancy was kicking her butt. She might not have nausea anymore, but she definitely had the fatigue. Between the baby growing inside her and the mischievous one she looked after all day, her energy was completely zapped.
The rain had let up and it was just a heavy mist now, but even so, with it being cold and flu season, she made sure to pull her knit cap over her auburn locks, zipped her down vest up to her neck, and mentally patted herself on the back for donning wool socks that morning. Otherwise, her toes would probably turn into frozen sausages in her black knee-high leather boots.
She climbed out of the driver’s side, opened up the back seat and went about the long but now down-to-a-science routine of getting Maeve out of her car seat and bundled up in all her own gear. If Lydia’s daughter lasted ten minutes with her hat on, Lydia would consider that a victory. Maeve hated hats.
Once they were both ready to climb Mount Everest and not just walk across the parking lot to the grocery store, she grabbed her reusable shopping bags and headed to the carts, where Maeve could sit and resume chewing on her fist.
As it was all day, every day, The Root Cellar was packed with people.
A locally owned small produce store, it boasted a large variety of fruits and veggies—many locally grown that weren’t necessarily found at chain grocery stores—as well as specialty items from local vendors. Their deli was also somewhere Rex would die a happy man after gorging himself on all their different kinds of meat.
But she was on a mission.
She followed The Root Cellar on social media and saw that they had a flash one-day sale on brussels sprouts for seventy-five cents a pound. She hoped because it was only ten o’clock in the morning and midweek, there would still be some left. She always made her mother’s “famous” pan-roasted brussels sprouts for Christmas dinner, and since they were such a good price, she’d buy extras for their own house for dinner.
Rounding the corner past the tomatoes, she located the bounty.
Of course, it was shoulder-to-shoulder people around the bin of sprouts.
Her belly wasn’t big enough to play the preggo card yet and politely bump people out of the way, laughing as she apologized and inched her way to her destination. Besides the benefit of getting a baby at the end, knocking people out of the way with your belly was one of the real benefits of getting pregnant.
But alas, she was still in her first trimester, not showing—at least not to the world. She’d have to wait her turn like she taught all the children at her preschool to do and refrain from sighing loudly with impatience.
A person right in front of her stepped away.
Ah-ha! An opening.
Grabbing a reusable mesh produce bag from her bag of bags in the cart, she made her way forward to sidle up to the bin but bumped shoulders with someone else who had the exact same idea.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and familiar.
“I’m sorry,” she echoed, glancing up at him. “Grant!”
His smile made her insides tingle and grow warm. “Lydia, fancy meeting you here.”
Another person stepped away, and now they both had room to begin loading their bags with sprouts.
“Can’t beat this deal,” she said with a chuckle.
“No, you certainly can’t. I’m cooking dinner for Joy tonight. I’m making my mother’s famous truffle and Parmesan roasted sprouts. What about you?”
She continued to fill her bag, chuckling. “I’m making my mother’s famous sprouts recipe for Christmas dinner. But we all love them roasted—even Maeve—so I’ll probably roast some up tonight for dinner, too. Truffle and Parmesan sound delicious. You’re pulling out all the stops for Nana Joy.”
He winked. “She’s worth it.”
“That she i—” Pain erupted in her belly and between her legs, as if someone had just thrust a machete into her abdomen.
Dropping the bag of sprouts to the ground, Lydia hunched over and held her stomach.
Something wasn’t right.
Something wasn’t right at all.
Grant’s hand landed on her shoulder, panic coating his tone. “Are you all right?”
Glancing up at him, her vision blurry from the pain, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I … I’m ten weeks pregnant—today.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Do you think you’re …” Slowly, nervously, Grant let his gaze drift down her body, and when those stormy gray orbs closed, she knew that what he saw confirmed what she felt.
Blood.
She was wearing light gray yoga leggings, so if the blood was substantial enough, he’d be able to see it.
Apparently, it was.
Another stab of pain shot through her, so much so she thought she might pass out.
No!
This couldn’t be happening.
She wanted this baby.
Rex wanted this baby.
They wanted this baby so badly.
“We need to get you to the hospital right now,” Grant said softly. “Where are you parked?”
She was barely able to get the words out through the pain and the clawing ache in her throat from trying to keep the tears and fear at bay.
Stupidly, she brought her hand down between her legs, and when she pulled it back up, as she suspected, it was covered in blood.
She was losing the baby.
Her baby.
Rex’s baby.
Grant reached into the pocket of her vest and pulled out her keys, hitting the fob. She barely registered the fact that he was gently guiding her out of the store and into the parking lot, steering the cart with Maeve in it. The flash of her vehicle’s taillights blinked out of the corner of her eye, but she wasn’t really paying attention.
“All right, sweetheart,” Grant said, hoisting Maeve out of the cart and fastening her back into her car seat. “Let’s get you settled, hmm?”
Then Grant helped Lydia into the front passenger seat, reclining the chair as far back as it could go. That helped a bit with the pain in her stomach but did nothing for the agony in her heart.
He climbed in behind the steering wheel and engaged the engine. “Hand me your phone.”
She did as she was told, and he put it into the holder on the dash. “Call Rex.”
The phone did as it was told.
“He’s working in Sooke all day. We just got off the phone, and reception was really spotty,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear slid down her cheek and into her ear.
“Rex Hart, for Plumbtastic Plumbing and Harty Boys Security and Surveillance. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”
Yeah, she figured he wouldn’t pick up.
Grant glanced at her as they approached a red light. “Do you want to put this on a voicemail?”
No. But she was going to have to.
Beep.
“Rex,” she said, fighting the tears and the searing burn in her throat. “I’m on my way to the hospital. I … I think I’m losing the baby.”
Saying it out loud made more tears rush forward, and she turned her head, covering her mouth with her hand.
Grant ended the call. “Call Joy.”
It rang twice before Joy picked up. “Lydia, my darling, how are you doing?”
“It’s me,” Grant said.
“Grant?”
“Ran into Lydia at the grocery store. We’re on our way to the hospital. There is … something wrong with the baby.”
“With Maeve?”
His response was quiet. “No.”
Joy’s gasp on the other end only made the ache in Lydia’s chest intensify.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“We’ll need you to take Maeve,” Grant said.
“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll leave right now.”
The call disconnected.
“Doctor or midwife?” Grant asked her as he took the on-ramp for the highway that would take them to Victoria General Hospital.
“Doctor,” she whimpered.
“In your phone?”
She nodded. “Call Doctor Aaronson.”
It rang six times before the receptionist in the office finally answered. “Dr. Aaronson and Dr. Gurpreet’s office.”
“Hello, I have Dr. Aaronson’s patient Lydia Hart with me, and we believe she may be having a miscarriage.”
“How many weeks is she?”
“Ten,” Grant confirmed. “We’re on our way to Victoria General now.”
“Dr. Gurpreet is on call there today. I will call and let her know to expect you. She will meet you at the entrance to Emergency. How far away are you?”
“Just turned off McKenzie onto the highway. Five, ten minutes tops,” Grant said.
“Very well. I’ll call her right now.”
“Thank you.” He ended the call and glanced at Lydia. She was staring straight ahead out the window, trying to calm her breathing. To calm the baby inside her and her racing pulse. Maybe if she slowed her heart rate, the blood wouldn’t flow out of her so fast.
A few minutes later, he took the exit ramp off the highway onto Helmcken, which was right next to the hospital. “How are you doing?”
She glanced at him. The man had kind eyes. Empathic eyes. The creases around them spoke of wisdom and experience but also of well-known pain. His mouth was a slash, and when she caught his gaze drift back down to the V of her pants, she held her breath.
It was bad.
He tried hard to steel his expression, but it was impossible.
It was really bad.
Reaching for her hand, Grant gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
He was so calm. So reassuring.
He knew just what to do. Just what to say.
He’d mentioned on the weekend when Lydia and Pasha bumped into him in the clothing store that he and his wife had experienced miscarriages. But how many?
Even through her own agony, Lydia’s heart went out to the man. Nobody should be a pro at dealing with a woman who was in the middle of a miscarriage, and yet something told her that Grant was.
He swung into the unloading zone next to the ER, and thankfully, Dr. Gurpreet was standing outside waiting for them.
Dr. Gurpreet opened the door, her brown eyes full of concern as she took in Lydia’s pants. She stepped back up to the curb and wheeled down a wheelchair. “Let’s take a look at what’s going on,” she said calmly. Her gaze flicked up to Grant. “You’ll have to meet us inside after you park in the lot.”
Grant nodded. “Yes, I know the drill. Maeve is asleep in the back. Her grandmother is on the way.”
Dr. Gurpreet nodded and helped Lydia out of her SUV and into the wheelchair. Lydia turned back to Grant as Dr. Gurpreet wheeled her over the curb and toward the hospital entrance doors. “Thank you.”
She barely caught it, but she did. A lone tear had slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away before nodding and jogging back around to the driver’s side to go and park her vehicle and stay with her daughter until Joy arrived.
Chapter 13
Rex & Lydia
Rex didn’t bother with the elevator. He raced up the stairs of the hospital, taking them two at a time. His chest ached from the way his heart violently shattered inside, sharp shards of it embedding in his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Lydia.
As soon as he heard her message, he’d violated all kinds of speed limits and traffic codes to get to her.
To get to them.
A message from his mother said that she had Maeve and that Grant was with Lydia.
What the fuck?
Why was Grant with his wife?
Why wasn’t his mother with his wife? Or one of his sisters-in-law?
Why was his mother’s boyfriend, or whatever the fuck Grant was, with Rex’s wife as she possibly miscarried their baby?
This didn’t make a lick of fucking sense, but all it did do was piss Rex off even more.
