Whirlwind Reunion. Debra Cowan

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Whirlwind Reunion - Debra Cowan Mills & Boon Historical

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had murmured some unintelligible comment. She didn’t want to know where he was or what he was doing. She didn’t want to think about him at all.

      Five nights after Russ and Lydia’s wedding celebration, she responded to a frantic plea from Davis Lee Holt, Whirlwind’s sheriff, to examine his pregnant wife, who had begun to bleed.

      It was well after dark when Annalise stood at the foot of Davis Lee’s and Josie’s bed, asking questions. It was difficult enough to see her lifelong friend terrified, but the fear of miscarrying their baby on both his and his wife’s faces wrapped around Annalise like a coil of barbed wire.

      For a heartbeat, the pain of her own miscarriage was so sharp she couldn’t breathe. She forced away the memories, struggling to keep all her focus on her patient.

      Seven months along, Josie lay in the big bed. The lamp on a table beside her was turned as high as it would go and the soft amber light showed she was as pale as chalk. Annalise could see the sheen of sweat on both their faces.

      “This has happened before,” Davis Lee offered hoarsely.

      Annalise frowned. “Miscarriage?”

      “Two.” The bleakness in his eyes cut her to the bone.

      Two? Her heart twisted. Going through one had nearly destroyed her will to live. “You said the bleeding just started?”

      “Yes.” Josie pushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes. “I realized it was happening about ten minutes ago and sent Davis Lee for you.”

      “That’s good.” Annalise was glad she lived only a hundred yards from the couple. She started to lift the sheets at Josie’s feet, expecting the lawman to step out of the room as other men did. When he didn’t, she glanced up.

      Josie took her husband’s hand. “Is it all right if he stays?”

      Annalise was surprised. In her experience, men didn’t want to be anywhere around female issues. “If that’s what you want.”

      As Davis Lee eased down on the edge of the bed, Annalise raised the linens, noting the crimson stain was in only one spot.

      Davis Lee spoke softly to his wife. “Just keep your eyes on me, honey. It’s going to be okay.”

      Josie gave him a small smile.

      The man’s tenderness put a lump in Annalise’s throat.

      The blood didn’t appear to be spreading and there were no clots. That was promising.

      She lowered the sheet to cover Josie’s feet. “The bleeding isn’t heavy. That’s a good sign. Have you had any cramping?”

      “Only at the beginning tonight.”

      “Do you have any pain now?”

      “Some, but it isn’t sharp. It’s the baby, isn’t it?” Josie asked fearfully.

      “Yes,” Annalise said gently.

      Tears welled in the woman’s green eyes. Davis Lee stroked his wife’s hair, his eyes closing briefly as agony streaked across his handsome features.

      Annalise’s chest ached. “You’ve done everything right so far—stayed in bed, sent Davis Lee for me.”

      “So now what?” he asked quietly.

      “More of the same. Josie, I’m afraid you’ll be confined to bed for the duration of the pregnancy.” The other woman’s history made the outlook even more grim, but Annalise had no intention of saying so. “You must take extra care. Especially considering your two previous losses. You have less than two months to go. Right now, complete bed rest is your best chance of keeping this baby.”

      “But—”

      Davis Lee squeezed his wife’s hand. “You heard the doc, Josie. You aren’t going to lift so much as a needle.”

      She started to argue, but quieted when her husband gave her a look. “Yes, all right.”

      Annalise bit back a smile. “Davis Lee, if you’ll pick her up, I’ll change the sheets.”

      “Oh, no!” Josie protested. “You don’t need to clean up!”

      Annalise smiled. “Putting down clean sheets will allow me to judge better tomorrow if the bleeding has slowed.”

      He scooped up his wife. In short order, Annalise had the bed stripped and a clean sheet on the moss-stuffed mattress.

      Once her patient was settled, she took her leave. Davis Lee walked out with her.

      “You don’t need to see me home,” she said when they paused on his porch. “Not since I live so close to you.”

      He nodded, glancing over his shoulder then pulling the door shut quietly. He shoved a hand through his dark hair and she could see his hand was shaking. “This can’t be any better for her than it is for the baby. Is she gonna be okay, Annalise? Even if she loses the baby?”

      Annalise didn’t need the wash of moonlight over his rugged features to see the man was terrified of losing his wife.

      “I told her—” He broke off hoarsely. “It was too soon to try after the last one.”

      Annalise’s throat tightened painfully. She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she is fine and I know you are, too. You’re taking good care of her, Davis Lee.”

      He searched her face then a resolve came over him. “She won’t be getting out of that bed. You can count on it.”

      She smiled. “Any more questions?”

      “Not right now.”

      “If she has further pain or thinks she’s bleeding more profusely, send for me right away.”

      “All right.”

      “Count on seeing me tomorrow.”

      He hugged her. “Thanks again. I’m glad you’re back.”

      “Me, too.” She stepped off his porch, angling toward her house. Josie was lucky to have a husband like Davis Lee. To have anyone. Except for a midwife she had only just met, Annalise had been alone when she’d suffered her miscarriage seven years ago.

      Once inside her house, she removed her blood-streaked apron, unable to dodge the memories any longer. She had known she would have to relive them at some point and they flew at her like arrows. If her loss hadn’t been raked up by a possible miscarriage, it would’ve been triggered by a troubled pregnancy or stillbirth.

      Moving as though in a daze, she washed her hands, then the dishes she’d left in a hurry when Davis Lee had fetched her.

      With tears blurring her vision, she changed into her night clothes, brushed out her hair and plaited it then lay down. The images wouldn’t stop. Neither would the guilt. Memories of the pain, the blood, the resulting infection. She’d been lucky

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