B uzz was too angry to talk, so he lagged behind a few feet. He’d promised to give her an hour before stopping for the night, but an hour came and went and he didn’t mention it. He knew she was exhausted and running on little more than nerves and that steel determination he saw in her eyes every time he looked at her. But the truth of the matter was he didn’t want to have to sit down and look into her eyes and see all that pain or, God forbid, talk about how they were going to handle their having a son.
He knew that’s what would happen if they made camp. He simply wasn’t up to talking. He was too angry. Too off-kilter. Too damn…everything to do anything but make the situation infinitely worse. He figured they may as well keep walking until they were both too tired to talk.
The three-quarter moon was sinking low in the west when he finally spoke. “Kel, let’s pack it in for the night.”
He’d expected her to argue, felt a sharp retort sizzle on the tip of his tongue in preparation. But surprising him, she stopped and just stood there, staring into the darkness as if listening for a cry in the night that never came.
Her face glowed pale in the dim moonlight, her eyes dark and troubled. When he stepped closer, he saw the exhaustion and defeat and the tired remnants of fear in her eyes and a pang of compassion gripped him despite his efforts to remain distant.
“We’ll sleep for a few hours and start again first light,” he said.
“It’s so cold,” she said tonelessly. “I wish it wasn’t so damn cold.”
For a moment, Buzz thought she was referring to herself, then realized her own physical comforts were the last thing on her mind. She was worried about Eddie. The night was uncomfortably cold, but it wasn’t harsh enough to cause hypothermia to a child with a jacket. As long as he wasn’t wet.
Because Buzz didn’t know what else to do to comfort her, he dropped his pack and stooped to dig out one of two compact thermal sleeping bags he’d packed. Rising, he handed one to her. “Unzip this and put it around your shoulders.”
She obeyed without objection. Then, huddled within the blanket, she just stood there, staring into the darkness, listening, waiting.
Buzz had been through some intense moments with Kelly. But in all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her like this. Bleak and filled with despair and utter hopelessness.
At a loss as to what to do next, he looked around and spotted a semi-protected area where they would be out of the wind. Picking up his backpack, he walked over to it and began unpacking. He removed the stove first and lit the wick. The flame cast yellow light on the surrounding trees and nearby outcropping of rock. A few feet away, Kelly sank down on a fallen log and put her face in her hands. She didn’t make a sound, but Buzz saw her shoulders shaking, and he knew she was crying. Jesus, he hated seeing that. He’d seen plenty of women cry over the years. He’d long since grown used to female tears. But to see this strong, stubborn woman reduced to tears tore at him like a sharp-fanged little animal.
“We’ve got to believe he’s going to be all right, Kel. Don’t let your mind get away from you,” he said after a moment.
When she raised her head and looked at him, tears shimmered like wet diamonds on her cheeks. “I ache inside. I’ve never hurt like this before. If something happens to him, I’ll never—”
“Don’t go there, damn it,” he interjected harshly. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a basket case.”
“Don’t apologize. This isn’t easy. For either of us.”
Rather than upset her, his harsh tone seemed to bolster her control. Rising, she approached him and knelt in front of the stove to warm her hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Buzz passed her his backpack. “I brought some protein bars. Get out a couple, so we can eat. Put down the tarp.” He could have very well done those things himself, but he knew Kelly well enough to know that she functioned better if she was busy, no matter how minute the chore.
While she did that, Buzz pulled the first-aid kit from his pack and set it atop a relatively flat rock. “Come here,” he said.
“That’s not—”
“I’m the EMT,” he said. “Let me worry about the first aid, all right?”
She handed him one of the protein bars. “I’m too tired to argue with you.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Keep that blanket around your shoulders and sit down.”
Relief slipped through him when she sat down without an argument. Buzz removed an antiseptic cleansing pad, some antibiotic cream and a large square bandage. “Any headache or blurred vision?” he asked.
“No.”
“Nausea?”
She shook her head.
He cut her a hard look. “The truth, Kelly.”