“Thank you, Ellen, I really appreciate it.”
“Let me talk to Susie for a sec.”
Susie got on the phone and Ellen said, “Make sure she’s hydrated. Dehydration is a serious problem, especially in the last trimester. And small healthy meals, as often as she wants, okay? Her stomach is shrinking as the baby grows, but she needs to eat.”
“I’m on it. I just— I’m worried. Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted Margery call, but—”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon.”
Ellen hung up and Penny said, “Do you actually think something’s wrong with her or the baby?”
Penny’s tone sounded like Margery was just complaining.
“No, but she’s nearly thirty-three weeks pregnant with her first baby, and her blood pressure was slightly elevated at her last appointment. Avery and Bobby will be home at two. If they’re not in the door by two-oh-one, call over there. You should be able to reach me on my cell phone, but if not, Margery’s number is on the board.” She pointed to the list.
Penny sighed, but didn’t comment.
Ellen went upstairs and grabbed her medical bag, plus acomprehensive midwife reference book in case she needed to look something up.
By the time she went back outside, the rain was still coming down slow but steady. She put her things in the front of the truck and was about to leave when Jake waved at her from the barn. He looked concerned.
“Mom! You need to see something.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jake crouched on the west side of the barn and pressed his hand to the soaked wood. “It’s wet. The whole thing. Must’ve started last night with the rain. But it should’ve drained by now.”
Ellen joined him, brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at the dark streaks bleeding down the boards. “We cleaned the gutters not two weeks ago.”
Jake nodded slowly. “And replaced them last year. There shouldn’t be a problem, but…” He trailed off, his voice tight with unease. “I think something’s blocking the downspouts. I just cleared out the debris”—he motioned to a pail he’d brought down from the loft—“but the water’s still not draining. Maybe an animal built a nest in there.”
It seemed improbable, but not impossible.
“Rats? We haven’t had a problem with the feed. And I don’t think a bird would build a nest inside the drain.”
“I don’t know. I just know something’s wrong. It’s backing up and forcing water through the seams. We’ll have to cut off the two corner downspouts.”
“That’ll make a mess down here,” Ellen said, already picturingthe muddy flood pooling near the foundation. “But we don’t have a choice. If we don’t, that wall will have to be completely replaced.” She didn’t want to think about the cost—in time and money. “Still, two hours of rain shouldn’t have soaked through like this.”
Jake stood, brushing his muddy hands on his jeans. “That’s the thing. The water’s not just hitting the wall. It’s inside. It’s in the barn.” He hesitated. “The hay in the loft is damp. If it starts to mold…”
Ellen’s stomach sank. Mold would spread fast—and not just in the hay. The entire loft could become a breeding ground for rot. “We need to move it as soon as possible.”
“I was thinking, if we get a break in the storm, I’ll climb up to the—”
“No.” Her voice cracked through the rain like a whip. It was louder than she meant it to be, sharper. Too sharp.
Jake blinked. “I won’t go up on the roof, Mom,” he said gently, reaching for her arm. “I promise.”
She nodded, throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
But the words felt heavy on her chest.
She couldn’t forget. She would never forget.
John had fallen from this roof—an accident that should’ve left him with bruises and maybe a concussion. But it wasn’t the height that killed him. It was the way he landed. His neck had snapped. One second he was alive, patching the barn roof, and the next he was on the ground, broken and dying.
She had seen him fall. Heard his body hit the hard ground. Had sprinted toward him as time folded in on itself, her breath stolen by the impossible. Her husband. The love of her life. The father of her children. She reached him as he struggled, held his hand as he took his last breath. Cried when his body stilled. It had happened so fast… but felt like an eternity.
