ONCE IN A BLUE MOON (BLUEBONNET, TEXAS Book 2) (6 page)

Late in August, just before school started, their mom, who was the source of their blonde hair and always looked frazzled, showed up on my doorstep with both envelopes. And
that’s
when I got tickled.

"Betti, I’m sorry to bother you, but I found these in my mail."

"Oh Bev, that was for the boys mowing my grass. I hadn’t seen you around, so I just left their money in your mailbox."

"Well, see now, that’s the thing. The boys left July 1 to go spend the rest of the summer with their daddy up in Wichita Falls. Then my mama got sick a week later, and I’ve been in Alabama. Sally Truesdale’s been collecting all my mail and watering my yard. I just got back last week, and I’m still trying to set my house straight."

"So, who cut my grass?" Frowning, I stepped out on my porch and looked around. Like the mysterious grass cutter would still be nearby.

"I have no clue, but Sally did mention she’d seen Ty Boudreaux pass through here quite a bit lately."

What in the hell was Sally Truesdale smoking? Bev wasn’t one to gossip...but she was a woman. And Sally was
always
in the know. We eyed each other in the porch light, both of us fully aware my response would be reported to Sally and then repeated all over town.

 "Why in the world would Ty Boudreaux come around here?"
Least said; least spread
was my motto. "This isn’t his side of town." I put on my best "I have no clue," frown and crossed my arms. Thank God it was dark out.

"She said she saw him more than once." Bev could fish ‘till the cows came home. "I hear he’s been having a lot of trouble since Rhea up and left him."

My lips were sealed.

But if Sally had seen him, then who else had? No way was I going to try and find out first-hand what Sally knew, or worse, canvas the neighbors to find out if anyone had actually
seen
Ty mowing my grass. And honestly, why would he?

Mowing a woman’s
grass while she wasn’t home
had to be the most insane thing I’ve ever heard of. Right?

* * *

Before I realized it, Labor Day and Halloween had passed us by—and my waistline had swelled to
alarming
proportions. Tall and curvy was one thing, but my size sixteens had become downright uncomfortable. This was not how I wanted to spend my holiday season, bloated like a whale.

Over oatmeal and coffee one morning, my stomach rolled over. I knew last night’s experiment had been a bad idea: Mocha Java Chip ice cream with chocolate sauce on top. The whole morning passed in a nauseated haze, as I lay on my bed unable to move until I had no choice. Once my stomach was empty, I grabbed the phone off my nightstand and buried my head under soft Egyptian cotton sheets, dialing the salon.

"You’re not coming in?" From Tara’s tone of voice, you’d have thought I said I was moving to Tibet. I
never
missed work.

"Not now. Reschedule all my morning stuff and call me back around twelve. I think I caught hold of a stomach flu." I wasn’t about to confess my late-night binge.

"Okay. Feel better and I’ll call you back later."

I curled up in a ball and napped, waking up in a panic hours later and scrambling for the phone. According to the bedside clock, noon had come and gone, and I’d slept the day away. I was a sweaty mess, my hair stuck to my head in curly clumps.

"Why didn’t you call me?" I scolded before Tara had even finished her greeting.

"You’re sick. Cassi and I took a vote and decided to let you sleep."

"My customers," I wailed, flopping back on the pillows.

"Rescheduled."

"Tara!"

Despite my initial protests, I stayed home, rested and sipped soup all afternoon. Feeling worlds better, I headed in to work early the next morning, donuts in hand ready to catch up on some paperwork. I ended up pulling over halfway there.

Nothing like puking your guts out on the side of the interstate as semi’s blew by to get your day off to a crappy start.

Sitting there in the Mustang, it hit me like a stinky diaper. Weight gain, binge eating, cravings and crying jags all pointed to more than a broken heart.

I was pregnant.

I walked around in denial for another week, but it wasn’t as if no one would eventually notice. Finally, I caved and bought a pregnancy test. Okay, I confess, I bought two twin packs. I’m sure the clerk at the drug store thought I was crazy. I did the first two at home the next morning, and the next two the following day at work.

Then called Cassi into my office. I needed her words of wisdom—or at least a shoulder to cry on. Bad Betti finally got caught. And by the mysterious, lawn mowing Ty Boudreaux, no less.
Hell! 

"You look awful serious there, girl."

Seated at my desk, aching, bare feet propped up, I stalled, unsure I could even get the words out of my mouth.
Could you choke on your own words?
"How are the kids?"

"They’re fine. The twins are at band camp this week, George’s visiting with Mom, and Casey’s at sports camp."

"That’s good. Sit," I said with a sigh.

Cassi settled in the chair beside my desk and waited, her creased brow revealing her concern.

"I think I’m pregnant." The words came out in a rush, ending on a huge sigh of relief. I was so relieved to finally share my news with someone and felt as if a ton of bricks had been lifted from my back.

"Oh my God, Bet! Are you sure?" Cassi sat forward, wide eyed with shock.

"My pants barely fit. I’ve been queasy and my boobs hurt, but it’s been just over three months. I go to the clinic next week. I did some of those home pregnancy tests, but I just don’t trust them."

"How many is ‘some’?" Despite her twitching lips, I knew her too well to be angry at her amusement.

"Four."

"Did they all come out positive?" she asked, giving into her laughter.

Rule Number Eleven:
Your Best Girlfriend is Worth Her Weight In Ice Cream
. Even if she laughed at you for taking four pregnancy tests. In lieu of an answer, I sighed and reached in the trashcan under my desk, pulling out an empty box. Waving it at her, I chanted, "Pink, pink, pink ... pink."

"Home pregnancy tests are pretty reliable." Cassi sat patiently waiting. She knew me well enough to know I needed someone to vent to, not solve my problems for me.

"I have to be sure," I wailed, tears filling my eyes.

"Aw, honey! Then why don’t you go tomorrow?" She reached out and patted my hand.

"It’s Saturday." I sniffled and grabbed a tissue off the box on my desk. "I can’t just take off."

"So, take a half hour, and go first thing in the morning! You’ll feel better if you know, but I seriously doubt four home pregnancy tests are wrong. Do you have any early appointments?"

"Not until nine. I’ve been so blah and yucky lately, I haven’t scheduled any in a while."

"That’s perfect! Stop on your way in. Just one thing...Do you know whose it is?"

"Well, thanks at lot, Cassi," I grumbled, slumping lower in my chair.

"I didn’t mean it like that. Do you know what you’re gonna do? Are you gonna tell him? Will he be excited? Happy?"

"Have a baby, I suppose. I can set up a mini-nursery in here." I waved my hands, indicating the oversized office.

"But what about the father? Raising a kid alone isn’t a picnic, Betti."

"You think I don’t know that!" I sighed, unsure what to say next. If I could raise my sister, I could certainly raise one from scratch. "Last time we talked, I got the distinct impression Ty was still very much in love with his ex-wife."

"But you’re having his baby. That must count for something. I’m not talking marriage, Bet, but he has a right to know about his kid."

"And his brother told him it was a hook-up."

"A hook-up?"

"Yeah."

"How y’all made that baby doesn’t matter!" Scowling, she reached out and poked me with the toe of her shoe for emphasis.

"I want to, but he’s only been divorced a few months—" Talk about a souvenir. This had to be some sort of cosmic payback for popping Rhea in the grocery store. I honestly wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news of a baby after our last confrontation.

"This is the Sixth Grade guy, isn’t it?" she asked, eyes wide.

I nodded, drying the last of my tears. "You know what’s weird? I think he’s been cutting my grass."

Cassi’s snort of laughter got my attention.
"Your grass?!"

"Someone has been cutting my grass, Cassi! And Ty has been seen in the neighborhood." I slumped in my chair with a sigh. "Maybe it was leprechauns. At least I have an excuse to go see him."

"How long’s it been since your grass was cut?" she asked, arching one dark brow.

I looked at her and she looked at me, and we both ended up with a pants-wetting case of the giggles.

"Not since August," I finally worked out, my face sore from laughing. "Do you know, last night I cried at a stupid-ass Campbell’s commercial?"

That set Cassi to howling again, but not me. "You’re
definitely
pregnant, girl."

"Well, I figured you’d be an expert on that," I quipped back, poking her with my toe this time.

* * *

Early the next morning the clinic confirmed my pregnancy, and after consulting with Cassi and a bevy of experts—in other words, moms—I’d decided to be brave and go the natural route. Two weeks later, I walked in the office of my new midwife, Marilyn Carstairs.

Just my luck, I saw Ty’s sister-in-law, Jessa of the Cher-hair, coming and going. As I sat in the waiting room filling out paperwork, I crossed my fingers, hoping she didn’t recognize me three months after the fact.

After having my blood drawn, my blood pressure taken and peeing in a cup, Marilyn jotted down notes in my file. Pausing, she looked at me expectantly over her half-glasses. "You don’t have a partner?"

"Not right now." I cringed with guilt—the completely self-inflicted kind. "I...I haven’t told him yet."

"I see. A healthy diet and exercise are important for a successful pregnancy, Bettina, but so is support of your loved ones," she gently scolded. "Lie back, and relax. Let’s see what we have here."

Loved ones. That was a joke. I still hadn’t worked up the nerve to set foot on the Boudreaux’s ranch and share my good news with Ty. Feeling chastised by the motherly old blonde, I laid back on the table, promising myself I’d go see him ASAP.

Raising my shirt, she tucked my pants down to my pubic bone. "I’m going to palpitate your abdomen, Bettina."

"What’s that?"

"I’m checking the size of your uterus." She chuckled as her fingers probed my belly, and she measured me. "Relax, by the time we’re done you’ll feel like a pro. I’ll also give you a list of recommended reading material before you leave." She chuckled again and continued, "This’ll feel cold."

I looked down and saw her squirt goo on my abdomen. "Ew."

"This is a Doppler." She held up what looked like a portable miniature microphone. "We’re going to use it to hear the baby’s heartbeat."

I held my breath, waiting until she found a swoosh-swooshing tattoo that was the baby.

"One-hundred-forty beats per minute." She beamed.

"Oh my God." I stared at the ceiling, laughing while tears pricked my eyes. There was a real little life in there, not just some intangible
thing
. "Put it back, put it back!" I hollered as she lifted the little microphone off my belly. "Is that good?"

"That’s perfect, Bettina," she reassured me, placing the Doppler back on my belly.

Chapter Six

LOVE STRUCK BABY

Every Wednesday at ten o’clock Ty spent fifty minutes spilling his guts at a cost of two dollars a minute.

He was in the wrong business.

He didn’t really whine. He couldn’t be more thankful his brother had found Dr. Ritter. The sessions
had
helped him learn to deal with and began to move past Rhea, but some days he just hated going.

Hated looking at himself. Maybe it was a guy thing.

Before he left, he looked up Bettina’s home phone number and stopped to call her. No one answered. He jotted down the number given on the recorded message, then stopped at Tim’s and snagged his cell phone.

Now that the affects of last night’s Xanax had worn off, he was taking Zack’s visit, and the news that Jessa had seen Bettina at her midwife’s much more seriously.

A part of him had hoped some neighbor
would
tell her they’d seen him cutting her grass, and she’d call or come by. That’s why he’d gone back a second time. But he hadn’t heard from her. How he’d managed to pull it off without the whole town talking about it, he had no clue.

And now Bettina might be having his baby.

Which wasn’t exactly something he could keep from his family.

But before he could deal with Bettina, he had to get through another session with Dr. Ritter. Thirty minutes later he sat in his regular chair. The nubby blue one with uneven back legs that sat on the right side of her desk.

"How was your week?"

After last night’s especially vicious dreams, he felt ornery, and like a toddler, chose to ignore her.

And like a mother, she seemed to read him right. "Have a bad night, Ty?"

"Yeah. Real bad and I’m tired of it."

"What do you think will make them stop?"

"I don’t know! Why don’t
you
tell
me
?" He leaned over and rubbed his tired eyes. If anything, his fatigue had gotten worse the last couple of months, and he didn’t feel like thinking today. Not about Rhea or Bettina, he just felt angry and cranky. And he’d much rather take his frustrations out on the back of a horse than be confined and forced to think.

She leaned forward, eyebrows arched, pencil and paper ready. "Bad week? Taking your meds?"

"Yes! And they’re not helping! Why can’t you wave a wand and make the damn things go away?" He stood and crossed to the window, unwilling to look to his left where Dr. Ritter sat.

"If the Xanax isn’t working, we can try something else."