Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Is it the pizza from last night?” I asked, remembering that the cardboard box from the local pizza place had been mysteriously missing from the refrigerator when I was gathering our things.
“Maybe,” she said. “It might also be some M&Ms. And a small jar of pickles.”
“Pickles?” I asked.
“Do you want some?” she asked. “Dill, not bread and butter.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “Do they go well with the pizza?”
“No, silly,” she said. “They go with the M&Ms.”
“Oh,” I said, putting the truck in gear. “Right.”
Carmela pulled out her phone to connect to the radio and started streaming music as I drove. It would only be a ten-minute drive or so, but she loved having her music on any time I was driving, and I didn’t mind either way. I was fine with music as much as I was fine with silence, but anything to make the woman I loved more comfortable while she was clearly struggling with her nine-month tenant I was down for.
We made it to the ranch before the second song was through, and it had just faded out when I cut the engine.
“Good timing,” she said, sliding out of the truck and landing on her feet.
“You should really let me help you get out of the truck,” I said, laughing as I went around to her side and she took my arm.
“I can do it,” she said. “I’m fine. Is Camden here?”
“I don’t see the truck,” I said.
“It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” she asked. “Ugh, I hate not working at the office. I can’t ever remember what day it is anymore.”
“What happens on Tuesday?” I asked, avoiding the subject of her working at the office as best I could.
It was one she brought up occasionally, but then also made me promise to talk her out of it every time she did so. She had an irrational fear of giving birth at the office.
“He has to go up to Crozet to get specialty feed,” she said. “He always makes a trip up there on Tuesdays and stops at the sandwich shop.”
“Oh,” I said. “When does he usually make it back home?”
“Around three,” she said.
“So that means we have a couple hours with the ranch all to ourselves then,” I said.
“I guess it does,” she grinned.
“I brought the blanket,” I said, indicating the overly full backpack on my back.
“Dr. Murphy,” she said, her eyes cutting deviously toward me. “You know what the books say. That could induce labor.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Perhaps we should refrain.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said, laughing and taking my hand.
We walked into the ranch land and headed for the trails around the back. There were several back there, each one at a different level of difficulty. Some were designed for experienced hikers who wanted to do something challenging, going through heavily wooded areas near the back and up some pretty steep hills. Another was meant for leisurely strolls, a trail that horses sometimes took intermediate riders on to get a taste of what riding a horse outside of the ring was like.
We took the easier route, still heading into the woods, but with fewer hills and more clearings along the way. I didn’t want to risk Carmela over-exerting herself.
We chatted amiably, mostly just taking in the cool air and mild exercise as we made our way deeper into the trail that eventually wound back around to the stables. Technically, we were going down it backward, since most people taking the horses would go from the trails to the open fields. I was about to point out the last time I had been on the trail—where we were was a place that I had almost fallen off the horse because it got spooked—when I noticed Carmela making a face.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Indigestion. I shouldn’t have eaten the pepperoni before going on the hike.”
“I thought that pizza was a bad idea,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Tell me again what you were thinking about for the nursery. You mentioned something about a built-in speaker.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, excited to go back to the subject we had discussed the day before. “I was thinking about installing a two-way speaker system in the room. Like one of those doorknob ones. We could pull it up on an app and hear everything wherever we were. For instance, if I was at work, I could listen in on the baby if I felt like I just wanted to hear her.”
“Mark, that’s weird,” she said. “The last thing I need is to be putting the baby to bed and have you start talking to me through the wall and scare me to death.”
“You wouldn’t be scared because you would be used to it,” I said, using what I thought was flawless logic.
“Yeah, I don’t—" she started and then froze.