stairs. When he reached the second-floor landing, he heard Nic say, “Guess what, Sarah? We’re having twins.”
Gabe’s stomach took a roll. Wonder if morning sickness is contagious.
FOURTEEN
By suppertime the following day, Nic was ready to declare the honeymoon officially over. Her husband was a tyrant.
First he demanded she hang a Closed sign on the clinic door and refer her patients to the vet hospital in Creede. No amount of calm, collected insistence that she could still perform her job while on crutches moved him. Next he refused to leave the bathroom while she hung her head over the toilet for her daily dose of morning sickness. Even if she did appreciate his steadying hands at her waist and his help keeping her hair out of the way, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t have control over who accompanied her to the bathroom under what circumstances. Finally, when she mentioned her intention to go to Cavanaugh House after supper for a meeting Celeste had requested, he took it upon himself to arrange for the meeting to be moved to Nic’s house without even asking her if she cared.
“Of all the nerve,” she grumbled as she sat in the overstuffed chair in her living room, her injured leg propped on an ottoman, flipping through the mail he’d brought in from the mailbox moments before.
The worst part of it was that she knew he was right about just about everything. She’d awakened stiff and sore this morning and hadn’t wanted to move, much less work. He’d filled the bathtub with warm water for her, and when she’d gone shy about getting naked in front of him, he’d shown amazing sensitivity and promised to keep his eyes closed while helping her in and out of the tub. She hadn’t caught him peeking, either.
She told herself she was glad about that.
She also told herself she shouldn’t be so grumpy, that she should be grateful to him for his help, and that it wasn’t his fault that it was snowing again and she was sick to death of winter. If she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit that the only reason she felt so put out was because she had planned a different beginning for their marriage when Gabe returned to Eternity Springs.
She’d spent a lot of time thinking about their situation while he was in Virginia. He’d called often, keeping her apprised of his schedule, sharing bits and pieces of his days, and nurturing the friendship growing between them. She’d enjoyed the phone calls. Each one left her feeling hopeful about the future and cautiously optimistic that her marriage just might take.
Aware that he was as skittish as a wounded fox, she’d known she would need to proceed slowly and carefully. She’d planned a strategy intended to nurture their relationship that included inviting Gabe over for dinner, spending time with him at town meetings and events, and, when the time was right, inviting him into her bed.
Her plan hadn’t included her being black-and-blue with bruises the first time he saw her naked.
Nic sighed heavily, set the electric bill and a postcard from her vacationing mother and aunt aside, then threw the junk mail in the trash just as her doorbell rang. Gabe stood up from the drawing board he’d set up in her library and answered the door, the boxer at his side. “Hello, Celeste.”
“Hello, dear.” Celeste went up on her tiptoes and gave Gabe a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome home.”
His expression registered surprise, and he smiled crookedly before saying, “Thanks.”
Next Celeste patted Tiger’s head and cooed, “Hello, puppy dog. Look at that tail wag. I bet you’re happy your daddy is home, aren’t you?”
Gabe rolled his eyes but refrained from the usual he’s-not-my-dog protest when a second woman Nic didn’t know followed Celeste into the house. She and Celeste both carried bulging tote bags.
“Gabe and Nic Callahan, I’d like to introduce you to Alison Timberlake. Alison Cavanaugh Timberlake. Ali is my first guest at Angel’s Rest. She’s coming to reconnect with her family roots.”
As Gabe said hello and shook the newcomer’s hand, Nic waved a hello to the attractive, classy-looking blonde wearing black slacks and a carnation-pink sweater set. “Welcome to our home and to Eternity Springs, Ms. Timberlake.”
“I’m Ali.”
“Ali, then. I’m Nic, and I’d get up, but my dictatorial husband has threatened me with torture if I rise from my chair in the next hour.”
Alison grinned and repeated, “Torture?”
Gabe nodded. “We had a discussion about bad disco music this morning. I