Page 26 of Darla's Christmas Knight
Bobby understood how much it took Darla to ask. She was one tough cookie, and admitting what she’d perceived as a weakness showed just how much today’s events had gutted her. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and never let her go, but the confines of the sedan prohibited that action.
He straightened and held out his hand. “Of course.”
She placed her hand in his, and he guided her from the vehicle. “My purse,” she protested, reaching back in.
“I’ll get it.” He hated letting go, even if it was for just a moment. He made it a quick moment, grabbing the straps of the bag, tugging the weighty leather across the seat. Slinging it over his own shoulder, he closed the door. “Does your car self-lock?”
Darla nodded, stepping away. She swayed, and he let out a curse, scooping her up like he wanted to earlier.
“Bobby! Put me down,” she protested.
“Hush. I’ve got you, love. You can rest now.”
To his relief (and surprise) she relaxed her body, going so far as to rest her head against his neck. He climbed the stairs, holding her close, wishing it were under better circumstances. But the memory of the anguish in Colt’s eyes and the fear in his young voice when Bobby drove the lad to the hospital still lingered. How much more had Darla experienced, right in themiddle of the traumatic event from start to finish? He knew how he felt when losing a foal. It gutted him. And for her, each patient, each baby was like her own.
Her fear of losing their child was justified. The risk of problems increased with age; her pregnancy considered geriatric. What if—
Stop! She wasn’t evenpregnantyet. No need for going down a maudlin path. Pulling her closer, he rubbed his chin along the side of her head.
And prayed,Please, Lord, let Darla and our baby be okay.
It had been a long time since he’d turned to the religion of his youth. Maybe the visit to Pastor Miller’s church had woken something in him.
Bobby reached Darla’s apartment and stared at the door in annoyance. “Hang on, love. I need to find your keys in that cavernous contraption you insist on lugging around,” he muttered, lowering her legs to the floor.
Propped against the wall, Darla scowled at him. “Outside zipper.”
He viewed the pale grey bag with a frown of his own. “There arefivezippers,” he grumbled, taking hold of a zipper tab.
She snickered. “The one below.”
He shot her a side glance. “Are you laughing at me?” he quipped, extracting her key ring.
“There’s a certain … wariness in his movements when a man delves into a woman’s bag.”
He unlocked her front door and shoved it open. “That’s because it’s a veritable minefield.”
“Is big burly Bobby Bell scared of an itsy-bitsy tampon?” she asked, walking past him.
He shut the door and turned to answer her, but his words dried up. Darla stood in the middle of the entrance, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, love,” he whispered. He droppedher bag, tore off his jacket, and pulled her into his arms. “Come here.”
Darla lowered her head to his chest. The sounds of her sobs just about broke his heart. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, repeating his earlier words, scooping her back into his arms. He strode to her couch and sank down.
She fisted his shirt. “He was perfectly formed. No obvious problems,” she whimpered.
He tightened his hold. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, brushing his lips over her head.
She exhaled a huge sigh. “They declined an autopsy, so we’ll never really know.Inezwill never know.”
Darla struggled upright, swiping a hand over her cheeks. “She blames herself. Her father claims an act of God.” Her eyes shot shards of coal as she met his stare. “ButI’dwant to know, Bobby. I’d want to know,” she repeated brokenly, tears starting up again.
He stayed quiet. There was nothing he could say to alleviate her sorrow. And he’d want to know as well.
Then Darla spoke again. “I went back to the clinic, went over all my notes, reviewed her scans. Was there something I missed? Something—”
Oh, no, she wasn’t. “You’re bloody good at your job, Darla. Don’t take this on you.”
“I can’t help but feel responsible.”
