Lost and Found Family (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
HROUGH
THE
OPEN
tack room door, Christian heard a shout from the arena. He and Rafe exchanged looks. Then they were both in the aisle, running toward the ring, before the thought had even crossed Christian's mind to move. Grace!

But when they reached the entrance, Christian saw his daughter lying on the ground, propped on one elbow and shaking her head as if to clear it. There was no one in the saddle. Then Emma flew past him, skimming along the sawdust-covered floor, gripping the reins in her still-bandaged hand.

“I can't let go!” she yelled. “My hand's stuck.”

Christian silently cursed. Then, heedless of the fact that he might only send the panicked horse into a faster gallop, he had already reached the center of the ring when he saw Rafe, who'd been right behind him, switch course and head for Grace. He bent over her, checking for injuries, then dragged her closer to the wall, out of harm's way.

Christian knew Rafe would take care of her. His daughter seemed safe, but Emma was not.

In the next heartbeat the General rushed past and Christian's momentum slammed him into the horse's shoulder. He grabbed for the bridle, caught it, then jerked, not caring if he got stepped on by giant hooves. A second later Rafe scrambled away from Grace to help him.

“Whoa!” they both shouted. Between them, they managed to bring the General to a halt. Exhausted, the horse was breathing hard, his sides pumping like a bellows. Christian unwound the reins from Emma's hand, causing her to cry out again. “Your burns,” he said, the words little more than a wheeze of sound. Still holding the reins, he gathered her in his arms. “My God, I thought—” He laid his cheek against the top of her head. Emma was trembling, too.

“Haven't you seen enough?” She tried to pull away from Christian's embrace, to distance herself from the General. “I've told you—he's a
dangerous
animal!”

But it was Rafe who answered, his gaze somber. “No,” he said. “He's not.”

“After last year—after
today
—how can you say that?”

Christian hung his head. “Today he was scared. Last December...” He waited a moment then said, “If you want me to sell him, Emma, I will.”

He started toward the barn aisle, leading the General as if for the last time. But he'd taken only a few steps before Rafe stopped him. He took the horse's reins from Christian, holding them loosely in one hand. The General nosed his shoulder but Rafe didn't seem to notice. Certainly he didn't fear the horse.

He stroked his muscular neck. “Emma, I need to tell you what really happened that day. You, too, Christian. I would have said something sooner, but I knew how painful it is for you to even think about this.” He cleared his throat. “You already know the General was in his stall then. When you went to answer your phone call, Emma, while Grace and I were still in this arena, Owen must have dragged the mounting stool over to the door.”

“I know that,” she said. “Don't you dare try to make that his fault. He was a child, scarcely more than a
baby
...” She choked on the word.

But Rafe held her gaze. “True. And he couldn't reach high enough to feed his gummy bears to the General so he must also have climbed on that stool. He obviously managed to shove the bolt open, then cracked the door wide enough to slip inside.”

“The General can be like a lot of other horses,” Christian admitted. “Territorial about his stall—”

“Or he wanted that candy so badly,” Rafe said, “that he may have sidestepped or even pushed Owen off balance to get at it. In his eagerness—because I think that's what may have happened—he probably shoved or backed him into the wall. Owen fell hard and hit his head.”

“A more than thousand-pound horse against a little boy who weighed thirty-four pounds,” Emma said, her tone bitter.

“That was no match, I agree, but even Christian doesn't know the rest.”

Rafe laid his free hand on Christian's shoulder then raised his voice so Grace could also hear. She was just getting to her feet. “I'm sure you remember, I was the first person to reach the stall, to see Owen lying there...” His voice turned husky. “You know what else I saw? The General standing over him. Quiet as an old school horse, not moving a muscle, and making these little snuffling sounds as if to explain to me what had happened, if he could.” He held her gaze. “He was guarding Owen, Emma. I swear he was.”

“Why didn't you tell us this before?” Christian asked.

“I wish I had. But until the General colicked because of Hailey, then today—minutes ago—it wasn't as if we were all great friends, so I...well, I wasn't sure. I'm still not. We'll probably never know exactly what happened, but that's the feeling I've had.” He patted the General's neck, straightened his forelock. The horse's ear didn't flicker. “I still do. I thought you should know.”

Christian let out a shaken breath. He released Emma, brushed a hand down the General's nose and left the arena.

* * *

E
MMA
SAW
HIS
shadow cross the wall out in the barn aisle. Then it was gone. He'd walked outside, probably to get control of himself. She wished she could.

Emma didn't know what to believe, but the General gazed at her with liquid brown eyes, unblinking. She'd need time to make sense of what Rafe had told them, what she'd always believed. For now, she limped over to Grace.

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “You're not a real rider until you've fallen off. More than once.”

Rafe scowled at her. He was still holding the General's reins, the horse standing quiet. “You're going to see a doctor, Grace. Don't say another word.” His mouth looked hard. “Next time you want to ride, I'll lead you around like a little kid on a pony.”

“Maybe you won't,” Grace murmured, but her eyes were soft. “I love you, too. Don't forget to cool him down,” she said.

Rafe didn't answer. He led the horse away, but his face was still ashen. He'd been terrified for her.

“Oh, sweetie,” Emma said. “You're in trouble now.”

Grace sobered. “With you, too.” She reached for Emma's hand. “I've been such a brat.” Emma shook her head, just grateful she was okay, but Grace said, “No, I let you down with the store when I knew you were struggling to hang on to your business. I should have been more of a help, but I got caught up in packing the condo—moving is really the pits—being married isn't easy either, you know.”

“Yes, I do know. It's an adjustment.” One Emma probably no longer had to make, but she drew Grace into her arms, and this time Grace didn't avoid her touch. “I don't know what's going to happen with the shop after New Year's, but if there's any way to save it, I will. I want you to be part of that, Grace.”

“I do like working with you,” she said. “Maybe I'll go back to college, major in business or whatever and someday we can even be partners. If you'd been hurt today, I would never have forgiven myself. You risked your own safety to keep the General from stepping on me. You tried to stop him when you have zero experience around horses.” She paused. “That's a shame, you know. Rafe is right. He would never have stomped on me. He knew I was there.”

Her lips tightened. “Like he did with Owen?”

“Yes, Emma. You heard Rafe. And didn't I tell you once that Bob was depressed?” Grace looked deeper into her eyes. “Couldn't you read the General's expression just now? Think about it. I hope you will. I'm going to think about how to be more mature—be a real help to you from now on. When Owen got...hurt, I blamed you, too. I was wrong. About both of us.”

Not sure Grace was right about Emma's own guilt, she held Grace to her for another moment. Then she drew away and kissed Grace's cheek.

Emma limped toward the main doors of the barn.

Outside, she leaned against its warm metal siding. She must look a sight with her eyes reddened from crying, a hole in her jeans from being scraped along the arena floor. She would ache all over tomorrow. And her stomach still hurt. She'd almost forgotten how bad she felt.

Christian came from around the far side of the barn where the paddocks were. He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. He looked as bad as she felt, and she reached up to pull a stalk of hay from behind his ear.

“Emma, we have to talk.”

If there was any chance of saving their marriage, they did, but a sudden cramp, worse than before, made her stop thinking before a single word could come out. The cramp in her stomach worsened, gripped her now, deep inside, where that new little life was growing.

To her horror, a warm wetness began to seep through the fabric of her jeans. Emma moaned and doubled over.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out as if she were about to fall.

“Christian, I think I'm bleeding!”

* * *

A
T
THE
HOSPITAL
Christian paced the waiting room. No one would tell him anything. He'd pushed through the ER entrance doors an hour ago carrying Emma in his arms, the drive from the farm nothing but a half-remembered blur. All he could think was,
She's going to die, too
.

Then someone had taken her from him.

He had every right to know how his wife was doing, but not a single doctor or nurse or someone they now called a hospitalist had come to see him.

He kept remembering Emma, white-faced, hollow-eyed, moaning in pain as he rocketed down the road, heedless of anything but reaching help in time. If there was time. When he'd finally driven up to the emergency room, she'd seemed only half conscious. A nurse in white had taken her away in a wheelchair.

Rafe had called to say they were on their way. He'd seen to the General and Grace, and even tried to reassure Christian.

But what was happening? He should have heard something by now.

Christian marched over to the reception desk again.

“My wife,” he said. “Is there any news? I've been waiting—”

“She's in good hands, sir.”

“She's pregnant,” he said. “She may be losing the baby.”

The nurse eyed him. He must look half crazy by now. “Mrs. Mallory is still in exam room three. She's being taken care of.”

“That's all you can tell me?”

“I see from her records that you're authorized to receive information under the HIPPA act—but, there's nothing to tell right now.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?”

“I couldn't say.”

Her sympathetic smile didn't make him feel any better. Emma had delivered Owen in this hospital. Without a hitch, he tried to tell himself.

She would be all right.

She had to be.

But the image of her being dragged across the arena floor, her hand trapped in the General's reins, stayed stuck in his head.
I think I'm bleeding
. What if she bled to death? What if his horse had killed her, too? And, now, their unborn baby. Had he sacrificed Emma for the General? Despite what Rafe had said about the accident—his theory—if anything happened to Emma, Christian wouldn't have to make the decision to sell. He'd put the horse down himself.

“I'm going in there,” he said, and started down the hallway that led to the exam rooms. He was halfway there when the entrance doors behind him whooshed open again. His parents walked in with Rafe and Grace.

Everyone rushed at him.

“How's Emma?” his mother asked, her face a mask of worry.

He ran a hand through his hair. “No one seems to know anything.”

“Dad, you look terrible,” Grace said, hugging him tight.

“Thanks, baby. I feel even worse.”

“Sir,” the nurse said, “please, everyone. Sit over there. I'll come for you as soon as I get word that your wife can have visitors.”

Which implied she was still alive. He'd take any hint of positive news he could get. Christian followed his father and mother to the nearby seating area he'd been roaming for the past hour. It seemed like forever. He had so much to say to Emma. If he ever got the chance.

With Grace's arm around his shoulders, he buried his face in his hands.

And waited some more.

* * *

E
MMA
OPENED
HER
EYES
. She'd been trying to sleep, to rest at least, when the curtain to the examining room swept back and a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck came in.

This would be the moment of truth. Had she willed something awful to happen to the baby she hadn't expected to come into her life? What kind of monster did that make her? If only she'd been happier to see the result of that pregnancy test. If only she and Christian could have found their way back to each other instead of shouting accusations.

“Mrs. Mallory?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Doctor Hutchinson. How are you feeling?”

“Not very well,” she said, her bandaged hand moving back and forth across her stomach. She hadn't given a second thought to the baby when she raced into the arena toward Grace. She hadn't looked twice before she grabbed for the General's reins. She'd looped them around her hand, forgetting how she hated him, hoping to bring him to a halt before he trampled Grace. But she'd gotten caught and he'd dragged her, just as he'd attacked Owen.

Now she was paying the price.

Or was Rafe right? Was the General innocent—or at least not guilty—of the accident that had taken Owen from her? Because of Emma's neglect.

The doctor pulled a chair over to her bedside. “When did you first notice you were spotting, Mrs. Mallory?”

She told him about that moment outside the barn after Christian had finally brought his horse to a stop. “I'd been having cramps for a few days, though. And all morning today.” While she'd argued with Frankie, then at her own house, where she'd cried.