Free Caribou Crossing by Susan Fox Page A

She didn’t really have to ask; the sense of an aching void inside her told her it was true.
    Her mom’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and when she opened them again they were glazed with moisture. “I’m afraid so.”
    â€œWhy?” she asked plaintively, not bothering to wipe at the tears that streaked down her cheeks. “What did I do wrong?” She wanted her husband. Where was Wade? He should be here, holding her. How could she get through this without him?
    â€œNothing. But there was a problem with the baby. You couldn’t have prevented it.”
    A nurse came in and checked the monitors. “Your doctor’s in the hospital, Mrs. Bly. I’ll let her know you’re awake and she’ll come see you as soon as she can.”
    When she left, Miriam turned back to her mom. “Where’s Wade?”
    â€œHe just stepped out for a minute. He’s been here by your side.”
    Reassured, she returned to the one thing that most mattered. Trying to understand, she said, “But I was past the first trimester. You’re supposed to be safe then.”
    Her mother bit her lip. “Sometimes miscarriages happen later.”
    â€œMy baby,” she sobbed. Her abdomen hurt, but the real pain was in her heart. “Was it a boy or a girl?”
    â€œA boy.”
    Two girls, two boys. That was what she and Wade wanted. All their dreams had been coming true and now they’d lost their son. A quick stab of anxiety made her ask, “Jessica? Is she all right?”
    â€œShe’s fine. Your dad took her to school and he’ll pick her up this afternoon and take her to our house. Andie will baby-sit.”
    Reassured, Miriam said, “Thanks.” For the first time, she realized how tired and worn her mom looked, though the love and concern in her eyes touched Miriam’s broken heart. “I want to go home, Mom. I just want to go home.” Actually, she wanted to go to her parents’ house and have her mother look after her. But she wanted Wade there, too. “When can I leave the hospital?”
    â€œNot quite yet.” She seemed about to say something else when Wade stepped into the room.
    His eyes widened and he rushed to the bed. “You’re awake.”
    Miriam had seen him after he’d been up all night with ranch emergencies, but never had he looked so drained. When he took her hand, she gripped his fiercely. “We l-lost our son,” she wailed, fresh tears sheeting down her cheeks.
    He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Rather than lift his head again, he rested it on the pillow next to hers. “I know, honey.” His voice was choked. Slowly, as if it took superhuman effort, he raised his head and glanced at her mother. “Have you . . . ?”
    She shook her head. “The nurse says her doctor’s coming.”
    â€œOkay.” He sank down in the chair on the other side of the bed, still holding Miriam’s hand. “You’re going to be all right. That’s the most important thing.”
    He didn’t think losing their son was important? But no, that was unfair. Of course he did. He was just trying to make her feel better. As if anything could.
    â€œI love you, Miriam,” he said. “Our love’s strong enough to get us through anything. Right?” His deep brown eyes looked wounded and pleading.
    Could they—could she—get through this? Women did. Miscarriage wasn’t all that uncommon. But she’d made it past the first trimester. She’d felt the baby move. “Right.” She hoped that saying it would make her believe it, but grief, pain, drugs had muddled her brain. Except for the one thing she was sure of. “I do love you, Wade.” She squeezed his hand, gently this time. “And our Jessica.” Then she turned to her mom. “And you and Dad, and my sisters and brother.” Right now, that love was the only thing holding