But he was gone.
Disappeared.
No, no, no, no.
“Ren!” My screech sent a cloud of sparrows and starlings feeding on bugs in the grass into the skies. “Ren!” I dropped his dinner and forgot I was pregnant.
I broke into an ungainly sprint. “Ren!”
He didn’t get up.
He didn’t appear.
Please, please, please.
I ran and ran.
Waddled and waddled.
Galloped and galloped.
The field was big, and I was slow.
It took an eternity to reach him, and by the time I did, my belly sliced with an agonising blade.
Grimacing, I ignored it, skidding to my knees beside Ren.
“Come on. You’re okay,” I gasped, telling Ren he was okay, but maybe telling myself more. “Wake up.” Face first in the grass, I brushed aside his sun-bronzed hair and found a closed eye.
Slack lips.
Smooth forehead.
Shallow breath.
Another slice cut right around my middle, wrenching a grunt and groan-scream from my lips.
Once again, I ignored it, and with all my strength, pushed Ren’s shoulder until he rolled and flopped onto his back.
His hands stayed unmoving.
His arms bent.
Legs crossed over each other from being rolled.
Grass stuck to his hair and face, and my hands shook as I tried to brush it aside.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t speak.
Another lacerating pain rippled through my abdomen as I bent over him, tapping his cheeks. “Ren.” Tapping turned to slapping the more unresponsive he became. “Ren! Don’t you dare do this to me, Ren.”
Tears cascaded.
More pain pulverised my belly.
No one was around to help.
Pulling his head close, I had no lap to cradle him, thanks to my pregnant belly. I had to settle with an awkward hug.
I rocked him.
I cried for him.
I did the only thing I could.
I screamed.
And something answered that scream, deep in my belly, twisting and tearing, desperate to get out.
Once again, I ignored it.
“No, no, no.” I hugged Ren, another blood-curdling cry tumbling from my lips.
I didn’t know what I screamed, only that I did.
I screamed again and again.
And still, he didn’t wake up.
And then, in a flash of sunset, something winging caught my eye.
Cassie.
Thank God, Cassie.
She bolted fast on Mighty Mo. Bare back and just a halter, as if she’d snatched the horse from his stable and kicked him into a run. His hooves ploughed through grass rows, jumping others. “Della!”
I groaned, tipping forward into the grass as my own pain overcame me. Planting a hand over the worst pressure I’d ever felt, my palm nudged the small hardness of my pocket-stored cell-phone.
Stupid.
So stupid.
Wrenching it out, I shook and grunted as yet another knife punctured my insides. Crawling closer to Ren, I blinked back tears and punched the numbers for help.
The call connected quickly.
An operator urgent and brisk. “What’s your emergency?”
My breath tore and laced with misery and woe. Another vicious band of agony worked through my belly, my hips naturally spreading, my thighs growing warm.
“A man. He’s unconscious. He has stage one mesothelioma. Please—” Pain cut me off. “Send an ambulance. Cherry River—”
I hissed as yet another wave hit me, this one stronger than the last. I moaned into the phone, buckling over, holding the baby in my belly. The baby who’d chosen this exact moment to arrive. “—Farm. Please hurry.”
“Okay, ma’am, we’re sending someone right now.”
A gush of wetness drenched my underwear, and I laughed.
Laughed with sick disbelief and incredulous timing.
“Oh, Goooddd,” I groaned, not able to hold my belly and my husband at the same time.
Death had visited.
Life wouldn’t be ignored.
Both battled to kill me.
“You okay, Ma’am?” the operator asked.
I shook my head, my lips spread wide.
I couldn’t speak.
But I didn’t need to.
Cassie arrived in a flurry of horse and hooves, leaping off to slam to her knees beside me. Mighty Mo snorted like a dragon, wired and amped, feeding on stress.
Cassie ignored him, took one look at Ren, then focused entirely on me. “Shit, Della.” Snatching my phone, she barked. “Ambulance. Two of the damn things. One for a man with asbestos cancer and another who’s just gone into labour.”
She nodded to whatever the woman said on the other end. “Yes. Back meadow. John Wilson will help you.”
I screamed as yet another deeper, demanding fury filled me. A fury tangled with bone and blood and bruises.
“You need to hurry,” Cassie snapped.
Throwing my phone into the grass, she gathered me close, placed her hand on Ren’s shallow breathing chest, and kissed my cheek. “It’s okay, Della. You’ll both be fine. You’ll see.”
I was glad she was there.
Grateful for help.
Only problem was…I didn’t believe her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
REN
* * * * * *
2022
FLASH.
The field with grass at optimum dryness to bale.
Flash.
A clunk and crunch as the baler wrapped up in stalks.
Flash.
Red and blue lights around me. Sirens loud inside me.
Flash.
Intruders, questions, the swish and sway of reckless driving.
Flash.
Wheels screeching, oxygen flowing, a sharp prick in my arm.
Flash.
Della’s screaming, strangers shouting, a world in utter disarray.
Something dragged me down, something heavy and warm and thick. I wanted to go with it, to give in, but the awful, awful sound of the one person I’d promised to protect every day of my goddamn life wrenched me through the fog.