4. Buried Fault
CHAPTER FOUR
BURIED FAULT
Claire
“If nobody’s wearing pants, this is your final warning,” Sloane says.
Across the kitchen, Ethan chuckles, a spoon clinking against his cereal bowl. “Your people are here.”
“My people are loud,” I groan into my coffee mug, the ceramic warm against my hands.
“They’re not wrong about your usual Saturday pants situation, Dad,” Ellie says playfully as she appears from the hallway, her bare feet padding on the wood floor.
“It’s Saturday, that’s what weekends are for,” he says, taking a noisy bite of cereal.
“I’m not complaining,” Sloane calls from the foyer, her voice closer now. “No one should be expected to wear real clothes before noon.”
The women burst into the kitchen with bakery items from The Cinnamon Finch. As Lucy places the pretty lavender boxes on the island, Sloane makes a beeline for the nearest chair, dropping into it with a dramatic sigh. After decades, they don’t need an invitation.
“Okay, spill,” I say, turning to Lucy.
Sloane laughs. “Tell them about Captain Conception.”
Lucy groans. “That’s not his name.”
“I have many names for him in my head,” Sloane says, grabbing a scone. “The man is a superhero who makes babies for a living.”
I laugh. “What happened at the appointment?”
Lucy covers her face. “It was fine.”
“Fine?” Sloane scoffs. “She’s leaving out the part where fertility doctors are seemingly male models now. Six-foot-three, jawline like he moonlights in cologne ads.”
Even Ellie perks up.
Ethan laughs. “What’s his real name?” he asks.
“Dr. Finn Tierney,” Lucy says, rolling her eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” Ethan asks, grabbing a doughnut.
“More tests,” Lucy says, her joking demeanor fading. “Blood work, procedures…they have to check everything.”
“And Jensen?” I ask.
“He’s getting tested too,” she says. “Dr. Tierney said it’s a team sport.”
“And then?”
“Then,” she says, taking a deep breath, “if everything looks okay, we start with medication, and then…maybe IVF. Hopefully, we’ll get a baby before we run out of and then.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I think so.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“It’s just hard,” she says, staring down at her coffee.
“I spent most of my life assuming this would happen naturally,” she says, her voice suddenly quiet.
The clinking of coffee cups stops. “You know? You get married, you decide you’re ready to start a family.
Eventually there’s a baby. Sitting in a fertility clinic with so much unknown wasn’t part of the plan. ”
Sloane bumps her shoulder affectionately.
“Hey,” I say, taking her hand again. “You’re allowed to be scared.”
Her eyes well with tears. “Yeah, I know.”
“You don’t have to pretend in front of us.”
Ethan looks around the kitchen. “So why wasn’t Jensen at the appointment?”
“He intended to be,” she tells us.
“Uh-huh,” Sloane states.
“He did,” Lucy defends.
Sloane gives everyone a look. “Men always have excuses.”
“He’s a trauma nurse with a hectic schedule,” Lucy says firmly.
“Not good enough,” Sloane tells her, and I have a feeling they’ve had this argument before.
“Haven’t you had this appointment scheduled for a couple of months?” Ethan asks.
“The appointment got moved up because of a cancellation. The clinic called two days beforehand,” Lucy explains.
“And?” I ask.
“And Jensen’s best friend from nursing school just moved to Juniper Ridge. Yesterday was her first day at the hospital, and he wanted to be there to support her.”
Ethan sets his coffee down, his expression unreadable. “Her?”
“Yes,” Lucy answers. “He felt bad that she was starting a new job in a new town all alone.”
Sloane lets out a sharp laugh. “Right.”
Ellie gives a small, practiced nod. It’s the same one she uses when we talk about my work schedule or when a teacher explains a concept she’s already mastered—a quick dip of her chin that’s more about ending the conversation than understanding it.
“He spent the entire morning texting me for updates,” Lucy says, coming to his defense again.
Sloane huffs.
“What? He was worried,” Lucy says.
“So basically, it was like he was there,” Ethan says.
“Exactly.” Lucy smiles like that settles the matter. “He hated missing it.”
“Because he loves you.” I say, trying to give her some reassurance.
She offers a small, grateful smile.
A few minutes later, the back door opens, and Jensen walks in, still in his scrubs. He’s grinning as he walks over and kisses Lucy on the cheek.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Sloane says to him, and then turns and directs her attention to me. “Okay, you’re too somber. What’s going on? You have your ‘the world is ending, and it’s my fault’ face on.”
I sigh, and Ellie gives me a look—the one teenagers reserve for maximum guilt. “Apparently,” I say, using air quotes, “I’m the worst mother in Sonoma County.”
“Mom, I did not say that,” Ellie says, drawing out each syllable.
Lucy looks over at me. “What did you do now?”
“I missed her school awards program Thursday night,” I reply.
Sloane winces. “Ouch.”
“It was a work emergency, stitches and all.”
Ellie folds her arms. “It’s always work.”
Lucy and Sloane exchange a weighted glance.
“It started with the drama program,” I say, the words tumbling out. “They need volunteers, but Juniper House might not even make payroll, and I haven’t really slept in a week, and—” I stop, pressing my palms to my eyes. “My brain just feels full of static.”
Sloane leans on the island. “Maybe you should see your doctor.”
I sigh. “Sloane—”
“What? I’m serious.” Everyone stares at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I have serious thoughts occasionally. If you don’t want to see your doctor, Lucy can ask Saint Finn of Fertility for a recommendation.”
Before anyone can respond, Sloane stands. “Okay. I gotta go. I’ll see everyone tonight?”
We all look at her.
“Tonight?” Ethan asks.
“Family dinner, duh.”
Lucy smiles. “Oh yes, at the ranch.”
“Do I get a vote?” Ethan asks.
“No!” we all say simultaneously, and he raises both hands in surrender.
By late afternoon, we’re at Lucy and Jensen’s ranch. Music and the scent of food from the grill fill the air.
I stand by Jensen, who is manning the grill. “Thanks,” he says, as I hand him a bowl. “How’s it going saving today’s misguided youth?”
“It’s going. It’s not a trauma department though. You literally save people.”
He points his beer toward the grill. “Right now, I’m just saving dinner.”
“Much more useful,” I reply as Lucy appears beside me.“Who else is coming? I think we’re almost ready.”
Jensen glances toward the driveway. “My old friend from nursing school,” he says.
“The mysterious nursing school bestie I’ve never met,” Lucy muses.
“You have friends outside of us?” Sloane winks at Jensen.
“I have lots of friends, smart ass.”
Before Jensen can retort, a red sports car speeds down the long gravel drive, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. The car slows near the barn, and Lucy straightens.
“Is that her?” Ethan asks.
“Should be,” Jensen replies.
The driver’s door opens and a woman emerges holding a pie. She’s tall, with bright red hair and a yellow romper that looks like it belongs in the city, not at a ranch. Her wedge sandals immediately sink into the grass, and I can’t help but wonder if Jensen forgot to mention where he lives.
“Jens!” she exclaims.
“Jens?” Sloane mouths to me with a questioning expression.
He grins, a genuine smile reserved for old friends. “About time,” he says, walking over to her. “Glad you could make it, Vivi.” They share a brief embrace, packed with years of history.
Lucy elbows me. “She brought pie,” she says out of the side of her mouth.
“I see that,” I whisper to her.
Jensen walks over, linking his arms with Lucy’s before launching into introductions. “Everyone, this is Vivienne Hays.”
She beams. “Hi.”
Aunt Sarah steps forward first. “Vivienne, welcome to Juniper Ridge.”
My dad reaches for the pie, not taking his eyes off it. “More importantly, welcome to family dinner.”
Vivienne laughs. “I was told food would be welcome,” she says, her voice a deep Southern drawl.
“You were told correctly. Food is always welcome,” Uncle Jeremy chuckles.
Lucy steps forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Lucy.”
“So, this is Lucy,” Vivienne says, giving Jensen a knowing look.
A look of bewilderment crosses Lucy’s face as she regards them.
“Jens talks about you all the time,” Vivienne explains.
Jensen clutches at his chest. “Don’t you start, Vivi.”
“Oh, please, Jens.” Vivienne nudges his hip with hers playfully. “I’m absolutely here to tell everyone your most embarrassing stories. Consider it my civic duty.”
“Huh. You two seem close after all these years,” Sloane says.
Jensen ignores her and continues introductions.
“Claire,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” she replies, and the introductions continue.
“Vivienne, where are you from?” Uncle Jeremy says. “I can’t place that charming accent.”
“I’m from Mississippi,” Vivienne replies.
“Oh, you’re far from home. What brings you this way?” Aunt Sarah asks.
“I needed a change of scenery.” Vivienne answers while not taking her eyes off Jensen.
Vivienne settles into the group—not loud, just comfortable. As we sit down for dinner, she starts recounting nursing school stories.
Everyone enjoys them, especially Lucy. “You messaged your professor, ‘I’ve reached the bargaining stage of nursing school and will trade my soul for a passing grade,’ thinking you messaged your study group?” Lucy asks, grinning.
“It was one time, and it was an accident. I was tired,” Jensen says sheepishly.
Vivienne chokes with laughter. “It was absolutely not just one time. You also accidentally texted the Assistant Dean, ‘Can someone explain why every medication has six names, and all of them sound like Wi-Fi passwords?’”
The table erupts with laughter.
Jensen looks at Vivienne with a relaxed smile. “Vivi, this is why I shouldn’t have invited you.”
“You invited me because you can’t resist my company,” she replies with a wink.
I watch the easy way Vivienne nudges Jensen’s arm, the way he smiles back blindly. She laughs at something he says, leaning in too close, his hand on her forearm. I watch her mouth move, forming words I can’t hear. Something in my chest tightens. I look away, but the image stays.
The evening buzzes with overlapping conversations and laughter.
My dad is deep in conversation with Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Sarah, waving his hands around as he argues solar panels don’t ruin the character of a building.
Uncle Jeremy looks offended by this suggestion, which means they’ve had this exact argument at least twenty times.
Lucy moves around the table, topping off wine glasses while Sloane steals bites from anyone foolish enough to leave their plate unattended. For a few precious hours, everyone is enjoying being together.
Then Uncle Jeremy points his wine glass toward Lucy. “So,” he says with a mischievous grin. “When do we get the full report on The Fertility Jedi?”
“I’m sorry,” my dad says, frowning. “Who?”
Lucy makes wild gestures at Sloane. “This is her fault.”
“Most things are,” Sloane singsong.
“True,” Aunt Sarah replies with a smiles.