Ten Mountain Men's Baby (Love by Numbers 9)

Oh, my goodness. I’m pregnant!

I hadn’t had time to process that “development” yet. And while I waited for Mrs. Freedman, my soon-to-be-born child occupied all of my thoughts. I pictured me taking her—because, in my mind, the baby was a girl—on hikes in the mountains. When she was old enough, I’d take her into the isolated communities with me, and she could play with the other children while I performed check-ups and cleanings.

Of course, I’d also bring her to see her grandfather in San Diego. I could picture her on the beach, playing in the sand or running from the waves that would break on the shore and turn to foam as they nipped at her toes.

I put my hands over my belly, lowered my head, and whispered, “You’re going to have a good life. I’m sure of it. Just be patient. A few short months… a few short months, and then you’ll be out here with me. And it’s going to be great.”

Mrs. Freedman arrived one minute late and apologized profusely for the inconvenience. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t expect there’d be so much traffic today. You’d think the president was in town. Maybe he is. Anyway, I do apologize.”

“There’s no need, really,” I said. “I’ve just arrived, myself.”

She waved the waiter over. Before he’d reached our table, she said to him, “Bring us two glasses of Chardonnay.”

“Oh, no wine for me, thanks.”

Mrs. Freedman frowned at me then addressed the waiter, “One glass of Chardonnay, then.”

Mrs. Freedman looked at me with a kind smile, and I was immediately put at ease. I started by telling her about my mother, the reason why I’d come back to San Diego so soon.

That news took her by surprise.

The article, however, she was well aware of.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I tried to get the reporter not to write it, but she couldn’t be talked out of it.”

Mrs. Freedman shook her head. “Why, dear, are you apologizing?”

“I’ve ruined the blog,” I said. “With my reputation now, I couldn’t possibly continue with the charity. I’m so embarrassed.”

She leaned over the table and loudly whispered, “If I’d known how exciting the Appalachian trail was, I would have gone myself. Look.” She opened her mouth and tilted her head back.

“Oh, you got the bone graft,” I said. “It looks good. They did a good job.”

She smiled proudly. “And tomorrow, I’m having the implant put in.”

“Who’s doing the work?”

“Dr. Stevens. She’s very good.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Not as good as you, of course, but.…”

I smirked and swatted away her compliment.

“It’s all working out perfectly,” she said with excitement.

I furrowed my brow. How is my leaving the thru-hike early and embarrassing the charity “perfect”?

“No more toothache,” she said. “I’m ready to go.”

I stared at her wide-eyed.

“I’ll be leaving for the trail Wednesday.”

“Really? That’s great. And you’re going on behalf of ‘Medicine on the Trail?’”

She nodded. “And I know it wasn’t your intention, but the amount of publicity that article has brought them”—she frowned— “and it is a dreadful article”—she smiled again— “but the amount of publicity it’s generated for ‘Medicine on the Trail—’” She opened her eyes wide and mouthed “wow.”

“Negative publicity, I’m sure.”

She leaned over the table again. “Are you kidding me?” She leaned back and shook her head. “Let’s just say we couldn’t have dreamed of better results.”

I laughed. “Really? I’m surprised.”

She raised her brow. “Sex, if you’re not getting it, or even if you are, it’s always what grabs people’s attention.” She sighed. “I do say, though, ten brothers!”

“Yeah.”

“You have set the bar quite high. I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet our readers’ new expectations.”

I chuckled.

“But believe me”—again she leaned in and loud-whispered— “I’m sure as hell going to try!”

“So, you’re hitting the Appalachian trail on Wednesday?”

“Yep.” She nodded enthusiastically. “And I can’t wait.”

“Well, you absolutely must stop off in Franklin. I’ll introduce you to some friends of mine.”24RykerThey say good things come to those who wait, but I’d never put much stock in that overly passive adage. I’d always believed that good things come to those who don’t wait and, instead, take action.

My motto was confirmed to me in quite a dramatic fashion.

I decided I had moped long enough. Though I still longed for Holly to be with us again, though I still missed her just as badly, I knew sitting on the couch and feeling hurt would not change anything. I phoned the Blue Ridge Hospital director, and I accepted the residency program she’d offered.

No sooner had I made the call—perhaps, ten minutes after, but not more—than Holly phoned me.

“I’m coming home,” she said.

“But I don’t understand. I thought you were in San Diego already. Where are you calling from?”

“Ryker, I’m going to strangle you,” she said jokingly. “It’s a figure of speech. Home, it’s where we feel we belong; it’s where we feel loved and needed.”