His Outback Cowgirl(39)

Henry grunted. “Ten minutes and not a minute more. We’ve got crosswords to do.”

Hand still linked with his, Bridie followed Ethan outside through the side kitchen door. She’d only walked down the first step when Milo brought her a much-loved ball and dropped it at her feet. He lay down, his head on his paws and blinked his big puppy-dog eyes.

Ethan groaned. “Great. Now Milo’s playing the too-cute card. I’ll be lucky to have you to myself for five minutes.”

Bridie brushed Ethan’s lips with hers. “Just three throws, I promise. Then I’m all yours.”

She tossed the lopsided ball across the yard. Milo scampered away to fetch it. Rocket came to Ethan’s side and Ethan sat on the top step to pat the older Australian Shepherd.

Milo returned the ball and waited for Bridie to toss it again. This time she threw it to the back of the yard. Milo followed. When he reached the ball he tried to grasp it but his nose propelled it further and it rolled beneath a bush. Milo whined and looked back at her.

“Okay, you poor possum. I’ll get it for you.”

She walked over and bent to look at the ball wedged toward the back of the bush. She reached into the thick leaves. Too late she registered the small round wasps’ nest in line with her lowered shoulder. She pulled back her hand but not before a pair of angry brown wasps buzzed and swooped. Pain shot through her upper arm.

She clutched at the bite and slowly sank to the ground, trying to keep her breathing even. Soon she’d be fighting for her every breath. Milo’s wet nose nuzzled her leg.

Ethan was beside her in an instant. “EpiPen?” he said hoarsely, even as he lifted her into his arms and turned toward the house.

“Purse.”

Eyes closed, she waited for the pain of the sting to be replaced by a telltale tightness in her chest.

“Hang in there, honey,” Ethan breathed as he maneuvered open the kitchen door and raced inside.

She felt herself laid down on something cold and smooth. She opened her eyes to see Ethan pulling the EpiPen out of her purse that Henry held. She took a deep breath ... and then another. Just when Ethan was about to jab the EpiPen into her thigh, she grabbed his forearm.

“Hang on.”

“Bridie?” Ethan’s tone was tortured. She knew he understood that he had to administer the epinephrine as soon as possible to prevent her body from going into anaphylactic shock.

She sat up and breathed again. Easily. “I ... think ... I’m okay.”

She looked at Ethan. Strain etched his face in sharp, haggard lines.

“The bite hurts but with a bee sting usually I can’t breathe by now. I mightn’t be allergic to wasps. No one knew for sure if I’d react the same way as I do to bees.”

“Henry...” Ethan spoke without looking at his father.

“Calling Marietta Hospital now.”

Henry headed for the kitchen.

Ethan placed the EpiPen on the sofa arm and bent close. “Can I take a look?”

She lifted her hand. They both examined the swollen bite. While it was red and angry, no hives had broken out over her skin and her arm remained the normal size.

“See, everything looks ... fine.” She placed a hand on Ethan’s chest to reassure him she was okay.

Ethan’s only reply was to press a long kiss to her forehead. Beneath her palm she could feel the pounding of his heart and the ripples of his tension.

The shuffle of Henry’s footsteps sounded and he stood in the doorway, expression grim but grip on the phone relaxed.

“Okay. A reaction may still happen half an hour later but apparently bee and wasp venom are different and yes, having a reaction to one, doesn’t guarantee you will react the same way to the other. I’m calling your mother now to let her know what has happened.”

“Thanks, Henry. Please tell her not to worry.”

He nodded and disappeared.

Bridie smiled and swung her legs from off the sofa. “There you go. I’m not allergic to wasps. I’m fine. Crisis over.”

But Ethan didn’t return her smile.

Grave-faced and solemn, he stared at her.

Bridie swallowed. She knew such a look. It was the same one she’d glimpsed on her face in the hospital windows as she’d sat first with her mother and then with her father during rounds of chemotherapy and radiation.

It was a look of abject fear, of powerlessness, of desperation. It was a look that she’d never wanted to see again or to have reflected back at her in the mirror.

Ethan cared for her. If he even felt half of what she did for him, then he cared a great deal. Everything she’d ever wanted, love, a family and a home, the man standing before her could give her. But seeing his anguish that he might lose her reminded her of life’s uncertainty, fragility and unfairness.