Dark Hollow Read Free Page B

meanwhile, had ducked behind me as soon as the fawn emerged. I glanced down at him. He looked back up at me with those soft brown eyes, and then thumped the tip of his tail as if embarrassed.
    “You should be embarrassed,” I told him, and he lowered his ears and looked away.
    My heart still hammered in my chest and my temples throbbed. I felt half-sick from the adrenaline surge.
    Big Steve whined.
    I shrugged. “Okay, maybe we both should be embarrassed. Is that better?”
    Big Steve flipped his tail in agreement and then sulked out from between my legs. He sniffed around where the deer had been. Then his tail wagged steadily as he got his courage back. Deciding that it was all right to continue on our way, he pulled me forward.
    I laughed. The brave mid list mystery writer and his faithful canine companion, scared shitless by a deer. Not just any deer, but a baby deer, at that.
    A baby…
    Unbidden, thoughts of Tara’s last miscarriage came to me again. My stomach ached, and I blinked away tears.
    The woods seemed even colder.

TWO
    When Tara had her first miscarriage, we weren’t even sure that was what it was at the time. It happened a year after we were married. We’d been trying to have a baby since our honeymoon, but weren’t having much luck. I can tell you that it wasn’t for lack of trying. You know the old adage about rabbits? That applied to us—morning, noon, and night, and triple that when she was ovulating. Maybe we were trying too hard, because despite the frequency we couldn’t conceive.
    Then one month her period was a few days late. Tara was usually regular as clockwork, so we both figured she was finally pregnant. Before we could take one of those home pregnancy tests, Tara began experiencing sharp pains, cramps, and a heavy flow. Heavier than normal. There was a lot of blood, but then it was all over, and we chalked the whole thing up to just an unusually strong period. It wasn’t until Tara’s second miscarriage that we learned that was what that first experience had most likely been.
    The second miscarriage was a lot worse. It happened a little over a year ago. That time we knew she was pregnant. There were no doubts. Tara took the first home pregnancy test about a week before her period was due. It showed positive, but the bar indicating the results was faint, so we waited. After trying for so long, we tried not to get our hopes up, promised each other that we wouldn’t, and then, of course, we did anyway. Finally we took the second test and it was also positive, and the following exam at the doctor’s office confirmed what we’d prayed for. We were finally going to have a baby.
    Tara started planning what color to paint the baby’s room, and I started planning how to ask my publisher for more money so that I wouldn’t have to get a full-time job again just to pay the bills. (Back then I was working part-time at the paper mill and writing the rest of the day.) Knowing that we were about to become parents was weird and scary and exciting, all at the same time. We started thinking about names. If it turned out to be a boy, Tara wanted to name him John or Paul. That was her latent Catholic heritage shining through. I didn’t think much of those. I was partial to Hunter, after Hunter S. Thompson, my literary hero. She didn’t think much of that. For a girl we were in agreement and narrowed the choices down to Abigail, Amanda, or Emily. We bought an infant’s car seat, and a family-friendly new car to go with it. We also got a crib, infant swing, high chair, and a closet full of baby clothes. Tara finally decided on light purple for the baby’s room, complete with Eeyore wall borders. I spent a long, tiring weekend painting it, so she wouldn’t have to breathe the paint fumes.
    Tara went to her first prenatal-care class and began researching maternity stuff on the Net. We discussed the merits of breast-feeding versus a bottle. I’d catch her looking in the full-length mirror in our