Page 20 of Written in the Charts

“Just a few more days, babe.” He repositioned his camera to show himself from the chest up. “Alright?”

“Sure. I understand.” His punishment for getting a speeding ticket seemed a little severe to me, but I wasn’t military personnel, so there was probably a lot I didn’t know or understand. What I did know was that I was in love with him, and the weight I’d been carrying—like a brick around my feet in fast-moving water—had to go.

When Evan had apologized for breaking my heart, it had been the perfect time to tell him about the baby, but he’d gotten called away. It had been on my mind ever since—well, since he came back into my life, really. Maggie had told me to be honest with him, and with the mental stress I’d been under with classes and tests, I couldn’t keep carrying the extra emotional baggage.

“Evan, can we talk?” I sat up, pointing my camera up higher. It was chilly in my room, so I pulled my blanket up around my shoulders and held it together in front of me. My hair fell in a tangled mess around my face, but it was a sexy messy look. I felt confident.

“Sure, what’s up?” Evan sat up too, as if he knew I needed to talk about something serious. I really wished I could have done this with him in person. It was a long time ago, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have feelings about it.

I took a deep breath and braced myself. “So, there is something I need to tell you about. It happened a long time ago, and I never said anything because you were going through so much with your father’s death. Then you just left town, and I had no idea where you went until months later when your mom finally answered the phone and told me you’d enlisted.

“I wrote it into a dozen letters but never mailed them. I didn’t think it was something you should hear about in a letter. I wanted to do this face to face, but I feel close to you now, and it will be a few more days before you can leave base again, so... well...”

Evan repositioned his computer screen again, offering a concerned look. “Just spit it out, okay?” He chuckled nervously and folded his hands in front of himself.

“I got pregnant, and I miscarried the baby, really late in the pregnancy, too. I named her Chloe. She would have been seven this year.”

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed, and a thoughtful look washed over his face. “But we were together seven years ago.” His eyes narrowed, and I could see how he was mentally putting the pieces together slowly, so I helped him.

“Evan, she was your baby. I got pregnant and never had the chance to tell you. You were so lost in your grief. I was waiting for the right time. And then you just left.” I sighed and put a fingernail in my mouth to chew it again. He seemed hurt, or angry. I couldn’t read his expression. “I was like twenty weeks when they found out I had placenta previa, and I ended up bleeding so badly...” I started to cry. Call it the nerves, or maybe it was my own grief piling on top of me. “Evan, say something.”

He started breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling faster and faster by the second. “I can’t believe you kept something like that from me.”

“Evan, you were gone. You left without a trace. What was I supposed to do?”

“Why didn’t you tell me the minute I came back!” He screamed at me, and I flinched. I hadn’t expected rage out of him—emotion, yes, but not this.

“Please, don’t be angry.” I whimpered, crying.

“Angry? You want me to not be angry after you told me you kept a secret from me for the past seven years? And now, after we’ve been together for what, five weeks, you never told me then, either?”

I opened my mouth to respond, and he slammed his computer shut, effectively ending the call. My heart broke. I stared at that screen with my face still staring back at me and sobbed. I should have told him years ago. I should have sent those letters or told his mother. Anything.

What if I had just ruined my chance with him?

I curled up in a ball and shut my computer, not bothering to close the Skype app. The close emotional connection I felt only moments before was gone, replaced with a fear that I’d never see him again. And all I was trying to do was the right thing.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Evan

Peter led the mare around the corral on the long rein, the golden Lusitano keeping step with the quarter horse on the rein I held. We’d been working the mares all morning to keep them agile. The ground was too frozen after the last hard freeze we had to ride these beauties, so exercising them in the corral was the next best thing.

“She’s such a beautiful horse,” Peter commented, gently flicking the horse’s backside with the whip to encourage her to pick up the pace. A quicker pace meant a better likelihood of a good workout and a better stretch to their muscles.

“Yeah, she is. How did Derek come about her?” It was nearing the top of the hour, and we had a few more horses to work out. I glanced at my watch and nudged Peter. “Looks like about five more minutes and we switch.”

“Right...” Peter nodded. “Whoa...” He pulled the reins, and I followed his lead, bringing the horses to a nice cooldown pace. “Well, I’m not sure where he got the quarter horse, probably some farm around here. But the Lusitano was a gift from my father—a wedding gift, of all things.” Peter chuckled. “Derek had wanted one of these since he graduated high school, but Dad wasn’t a big farmer.”

I grinned. I knew Peter and Derek’s father was a minister, and not much for animals, but Derek loved them. I’d been drafted to help with the animals right from the start, mostly shoeing them or trimming their hooves, which I knew from my days in 4-H—something Dad insisted I do as a young boy.

We slowed the horses a bit more, bringing them around and leading them to the barn. Peter fell in step beside me and the horses brought up the rear. Our breath puffed out in crystalized clouds that dissipated into the November sky. It was nearly Thanksgiving, and I was expected back home, which was something I’d have to bring up with Derek and Peter. They’d need to take on the duties here at the farm that I normally did. It likely wouldn’t be a problem, but I always hated telling them I’d be away.

And I’d only just returned last week from my time away due to the driving ban on the base. Now that my knee was feeling better again after the cortisone shot Serah gave me, and I was allowed to drive again, I was pretty much back to normal—except talking to Gypsy. I hadn’t done that in ten days, not since she told me the news about our past.

“Strange thing to give for a wedding gift, don’t you think?” Peter yanked the barn door open and walked his mare through first. Her body glistened with sweat. I followed him, leading my mare in after. We hooked them to the grooming post and picked up the brushes we used to clean the two horses we’d walked earlier.

“Yeah, but I get it. They’re finally talking after years of being at each other’s throats.” I remember when Derek and his father finally put their differences to bed and reconciled. I also remembered it was about the time that his wife, Maggie, had run off and not told him she was pregnant with his twins. That tore him up.

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