Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I hadn’t seen her before she’d spoken, and she startled me slightly, making me jump. “Sorry.”
“That one.” I pointed at my girl who was having her shoulder examined by a doctor. “She had what they call shoulder dystocia.”
She patted me on the shoulder.
“It’s scary, I know.”
I looked to the woman with beautiful, long gray hair and said, “You know?”
She nodded. “My son, Luca, was born with shoulder dystocia, too. But look at him now.”
I did, glancing down the hall at a tall man with black hair and bulky shoulders. He had his hands on the glass as he smiled down at a tiny little baby boy who was getting put into a fresh diaper.
“He had it?”
She nodded. “Scared the hell out of both me and his father. I thought that I was going to die. That he was going to die. But he turned out okay, and yours will, too. The broken collarbone is scary now, but I promise you, she won’t remember a thing. Neither will she have any developmental issues with her shoulder.”
Relief tore through me at the thought.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
She patted me on the shoulder. “What’s that name say on her chest?”
I smiled again. “Margery Mae.”
“A strong name for a strong girl.” She smiled. “Where’d you get the name from?”
“My daughter’s great-grandmother on her daddy’s side,” I explained. “Her middle name is Mae. Her grandfather’s middle name is Eam. I thought it would be a cool play on that name if we went with Eam spelled backward.”
Because if it wasn’t for Sawyer, none of this would be possible.
He’d saved me when I was sixteen, and he didn’t have to.
It was only fitting that we name our girl after his mother and him.
“Oh, honey. That sounds perfect.”
And it was. It really was.
Twenty-Eight
I often get mistaken for an adult because of my age.
—Nettie’s secret thoughts
Nettie
“I’m going to get started on the dishes.” Eddy headed into the kitchen, careful to stay as quiet as possible as she moved.
Margery was asleep on one side of me, and baby Margery was asleep on the ottoman on the other side of me.
It was cute.
It was even cuter that they were both on the same nap schedule.
Margery had practically moved in with us when we got home from the hospital, and I would forever and ever cherish the days that we got with her.
It was like she’d gotten a second wind upon her namesake’s arrival.
“Nettie,” Boone said quietly, drawing my attention from our daughter’s face to my husband’s.
“What?” I asked, worried about the blankness of his face.
“I…” He hesitated. “Come outside.”
I frowned but got up, leaving our daughter to sleep on the ottoman with blankets wrapped around her so she couldn’t roll.
When we got outside, he tugged me to him and hugged me tight. “It’s over.”
The suddenness of the movement called a small twinge in my nether regions, but I didn’t complain.
Not when the look on Boone’s face was scaring me.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s over,” he answered.
“What is?” I asked.
“She was found dead in that same snowplow that she smashed into us with.”
We both knew who he was talking about without naming her name.
She’d been a bad stink that never seemed to go away.
It was like we were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I blinked. “What?”
“Some fly fishermen found her this week in the river. One of their flies got stuck on something in the middle of the river. When they were right on top of it, they noticed that whatever the fly was hooked on was shiny and red. They called the authorities, and they sent some divers down. It was the snowplow that hit us. It looks like my mother tried to sink it into the river. But she didn’t think that far ahead and wasn’t able to get out of the truck in time before the cab filled up with water and she drowned. She was confirmed dead a couple of minutes ago.”
“Whoa.” I was so shocked I couldn’t come up with words.
A cry came from the house behind us, and Boone left me like a hot potato and hurried toward his one true love.
He picked her up and curled her close to his chest, cooing soft, soothing words to her as he did.
“Shhh, baby girl. Shhh,” he rumbled, which always calmed her down instantly. “I’ve got you, Margery Mae.”
The middle name that I fought so hard for slipped so easily out of his mouth now.
“What now?” I finally asked. “Do we finally get to go through her things and find out maybe why?”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “The apartment that she was staying at was rented to another tenant. The apartment put her stuff up for auction a couple of weeks after no contact and no payment. Since we weren’t listed as her emergency contact or contact people at all, they auctioned all her stuff off. There’s nothing left.”