what we were thinking,” said Joiner. “But the doctor said absolutely not. He said if they didn’t take the baby out, both she and Stella would be dead in two weeks.”
“That’s terrifying!” Cullen’s eyes were as big as Texas.
Joiner nodded gravely.
Mac adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. “I’m just thankful you brought her when you did, and they caught everything quickly. From what I heard, the prognosis sounds very hopeful.”
“Yes. Yes it does.” Joiner nodded. “Dr. Laws seems to think babies are pretty safe to be born after twenty-eight weeks and we are in the thirty-second.”
“That’s great,” said Hunt.
“It’s not ideal.” Joiner squeezed his hands into fists. “But probably—surely—everything will be okay.”
Mac patted Joiner on the back. “I believe it will. Stella is a strong woman.”
Joiner sighed. “It’s not how we planned it, but I have to trust God has a plan.”
They ate their steaks in relative silence compared with the usual brotherhood meetings back in Kilgore. It seemed there was everything and nothing to say. The gravity of the situation—its danger as well as its potential joy—hung in the air around their table.
Joiner didn’t hurry them, but Mac knew he wanted to get back to the hospital. He tried to pay the bill in secret. Mac saw and stopped him. “This one’s on me. It’s not every day a guy becomes an uncle.”
* * *
THEY ALL HUNG out in Stella’s room for a few hours after Buster left. Alma and her husband, Felix, arrived with a bag of clothes and toiletries for Joiner and Stella, along with hot sopaipillas and honey. Thirty minutes or so after they left, Hunt and Cullen drove back to Kilgore with their wives. Mac stayed till bedtime.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Try to get some rest.” He kissed Stella on the cheek.
She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for taking care of us.”
“Love you, girl,” Mac said.
“Love you back.”
As he and Joiner walked toward the door, his brother said, “The plan is to start Pitocin about seven o’clock.”
“I’ll be here at eight—that good?”
“How will you manage that with work?”
“It’s already managed. New assistant, Jacqueline, remember?”
“That’s good.” Joiner hugged him hard. “Thanks for everything.”
On the way home, Mac decided to call Jacqueline, not because he had any new news to report or even because he was curious about what might have happened at the office. He wouldn’t admit this to her, and most certainly not to himself, but he decided to call simply because he wanted to hear the sound of her voice.
NEMESIS PURRED IN her lap as Jacqueline read and highlighted pertinent sections of the Texas tax code. Sixteen people had brought bundles of tax information by the office that day and she wanted to have them in order for Mac to begin processing when he returned to work, which she presumed would be Wednesday. Wearing her midnight blue velvet-fleece robe that tied at the waist with a rope tassel, she lounged on her couch across from the lit fireplace. She was fresh from the shower, hair wet and falling forward, tickling Nemesis’s ears when she bent her head a certain way. The kitten alternated between batting it and fussing over her robe’s tassel. Jacqueline’s long legs stretched the length of the couch and she wore slippers to keep her feet toasty.
The phone on the table beside the pecans flashed on. She had turned the ringer off, but had kept the phone in her vision all evening in case Mac called.
“Hello?”
“Hey there. I hope it’s not too late to call.” His voice was as smooth as a chocolate truffle. But he sounded tired. It was ten o’clock.
“Well, I do have this mean boss who makes me get up early.”
Mac chuckled. “That’s not what I heard. I heard you were running the place.”
“Ha! Right.”
“I guess you can make up your own hours tomorrow.”
Jacqueline stroked the kitten’s fur. “Nemesis and I were just thinking about you.”
“Nemesis? And what were you and Nemesis thinking?”
“We were wondering if you were in the vicinity.”
“I’m actually on the road back from Tyler.”
“Hmm. I’m in my robe, but I would gladly put on my best sweats if you’d like to stop by for tea and sympathy.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’d love some sympathy.”
Jacqueline’s heart warmed toward him even more. “Rough day?”
“Not near as rough for me as Joiner and Stella. But yeah. I’m beat.”
“You don’t have to stop by—”
“It’s too late, you temptress. I’ve already exited. Put the kettle on.”
“Will do, boss.”
Jacqueline changed from her robe into gray sweats and a KARIS T-shirt. The kettle was just beginning to whistle when Mac’s headlights shone in the driveway. She flipped on the front porch light, as well as the light above the side door, where he knocked.
“Come on in!”
He opened the door and stepped inside.
He removed his hat and coat. “You want me to take off my boots, too?” He motioned to a metal boot rack where she kept her rain boots and a pair of running shoes.
“Suit yourself,” she said. “It’s kind of ‘anything goes’ around this house.” Jacqueline took his coat and hung it on a hook. He set his hat on the table with the lamp and followed her, bootless, into the kitchen.
“Don’t bother sitting on the doll furniture.” Jacqueline grinned. “Just let me get the tea and we’ll go into the living room.”
Mac went ahead of her and warmed himself by the fire. A few minutes later, she followed him, shuffling along in her slippers. She set a wooden tray on the coffee table. It held two mugs, a thermal carafe of water and an assortment of teas. There was also a salad plate with oatmeal cookies. “I made these tonight. My grandma’s recipe.”
They sat together on the couch. “I like your glasses,” Mac said. “I didn’t know you wore them.”
“I only wear them at home.” She raised her hand self-consciously to straighten
