Chapter 8
Cody
I took the last group of clients back to the airport today. That was it for the season; no more until fall.
The plan is to get the lodge cleaned up and move Karissa into it sometime in the next few days.
When I walk through the front door, I’m hit with the smell of Mom’s cooking. Except it’s not Mom cooking…it’s Karissa.
Her hair is up in a messy bun, her sleeves pushed up and a towel over her shoulder. She’s got three pots on the stove, the microwave is beeping, and the oven fan is on.
She smiles, playfully. “Hi,” she says.
“Hey…what’s all this?”
“Are you hungry?”
I look beyond her. The table’s set, a loaf of homemade bread between two plates.
“Um, yeah…what’s the occasion?”
She steps aside. “Well, you see, I wanted to say thank you for everything…” she says, “but I had another favor to ask.” She clenches her teeth.
“Oh I see. Who told you food was the way to my heart?” I joke.
Smiling, she sighs. “I have an appointment tomorrow and I don’t want to go alone. Ella’s working, your sister and mom are gardening or something, and—”
“Of course I’ll take you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I nod like it’s obvious.
“So…I didn’t have to make all this?”
I pull out a chair. “No. But I’m still gonna eat it.”
She laughs and dishes me a hefty serving of some kind of soup and sits in the other chair.
“He really made you work for it, huh?” I ask her.
“What?”
“Your ex.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You made this big meal just to ask me for a favor so small it’s barely even a favor.”
She looks down and shrugs, like she hadn’t even realized how bad it really was.
“I’m glad you left,” I say.
She picks up her fork and squeezes it between her fingers, letting out a steady “yeah.”
I reach my hand out. My mind is hesitating but my body doesn’t care. She looks at it for a moment before it clicks, and then puts her hand in mine.
“Dear God, thank you for this day, a great end to the season, and easy clients to work with this year. Thank you for bringing Karissa here so she can feel safe and the baby can be safe. And thank you for blessing her with a seemingly very good ability to cook. In Your name we pray, amen.”
“Seemingly?” She smiles, bright, happy.
“Well, I didn’t taste it yet. It smells good, though.”
“Gee, thanks.” She laughs, cutting into the bread.
“It all looks really good,” I say, watching the first slice fall onto the cutting board as she starts another. It smells like a bakery in here.
I grab the end and take a bite. “Mm-hmm…nothing seemingly about that,” I say as I chew. She smiles more and butters herself a slice.
“I don’t really understand,” she says after we fill our plates with the tossed salad.
“Understand what?”
“Praying.”
“Explain?”
“Like, if God knows everything already, and your life is already planned out and stuff, what’s the point? Like, if I ask him to keep me and the baby safe during delivery, but it’s already decided whether or not one of us dies during childbirth or whatever, what’s the point in asking?”
I blank. While I sorta understand what she’s saying, I still have no idea how to explain it.
“I’m not a preacher,” I admit. “I don’t know all the right words. But prayer isn’t about changing the outcome. I think it’s about trust, not control. Like…even if it’s already decided, it still matters who you’re leaning on while you wait.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I go on.
“I pray ’cause I’d rather bring it to God than carry it by myself. Doesn’t mean I get everything I ask for. But I still do it.”
She’s quiet for a long second. “So it’s more about…peace?”
I nod once. “Yeah. And the relationship. He wants you to talk to Him.”
Another beat passes. Then her voice comes out small. “Okay.”
Just…“okay.” She doesn’t sound defensive, just maybe a little less confused than before.
We eat, not talking much about anything major or life-altering. I tell her she’s a good cook, though. That the food’s great. That makes her smile.
I watch her eat for a second. I can’t help but notice the little amount of food she gave herself. She made plenty. I’m certainly not going to eat it all, and I’d like to think she knows that.
“You eat a big lunch or something?”
“No, why?”
“You’re not eating much.”
She shrugs.
“Aren’t you, like, always supposed to be hungry?”
She laughs. “Yeah, but I don’t want to gain a hundred pounds.”
I lean back against the chair. “You’re not. And so what if you do? If you’re hungry, then eat. Baby needs it.”
“Where’d you read that?” She bats her eyes.
“Nowhere. I just know that’s kinda how that works.”
I reach to spoon more soup into her bowl and put another piece of bread on her napkin.
She sighs. “My ex was sorta on me about my weight, so…”
My jaw clenches.
“He’d make comments like, “You’re so worried about gaining weight, yet you’re eating that,” and it just…I don’t know. Every time I step on that scale, I just cringe.”
I stare at her, my blood thickening. “Where’d you say he lived?”
She shakes her head, letting out a quick laugh. “Cody, stop.”
I do, but not in my head. Because I’m picturing it…finding this lowlife, looking him dead in the eye, and making sure he understands what happens when you talk to a woman like that. Especially a woman bearing your child.
I shove her bowl a little closer. “Eat,” I say, low.
She hesitates, then tears off a piece of bread and dips it in the soup.
If I ever cross paths with him, even by accident, he’ll learn real quick that some things you don’t get away with.
* * *
The hiss of the deflating blood pressure cuff cuts through the quiet room, followed by the sharp tear of Velcro. The nurse’s brow furrows as she glances at the reading.
“It’s 150 over 90. Definitely high again,” she says, her voice steady but laced with concern.
My back straightens, muscles tensing. Again?
Karissa shifts on the crinkly paper lining the exam table. “I’m just nervous,” she blurts out before the nurse can say anything else.
The nurse doesn’t argue. She gives a polite smile, but it’s clear she’s already made a mental note. “It was high last week too,” she says quietly, then excuses herself to get the doctor, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click.
The silence that settles between us feels heavier than it should.
“You’re that nervous?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light, but the tension still sits in my chest.
Karissa shrugs one shoulder, looking away. “I don’t like doctors.”
“Well, okay, but try and relax. That’s really high.”
“I know,” she says, softer now, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her shirt stretched across her stomach.
A few moments later, the door swings open and the doctor steps in, clipboard in hand. He greets us with a practiced smile and jumps right into the notes. I listen closely, nodding at first, but my focus sharpens when he brings up the high blood pressure.
He starts explaining preeclampsia, warning signs, what to watch for. Headaches that won’t go away. Sudden swelling. Changes in vision. Pain in the upper right belly.
With each symptom he lists, my stomach knots tighter. I watch Karissa. She’s listening, nodding along, but all I can think about is how she’s spent so much time alone at my place and she’s going to be even more alone once we get her in the lodge.
What if she doesn’t call? What if she waits too long? This is something we have to watch closely and take seriously, but I don’t feel as though she understands that. She doesn’t seem concerned and this is the first time I’m hearing about high blood pressure.
* * *
“You were a little uptight in there,” Karissa says soon after we leave the parking lot.
“That’s ironic, coming from the one with high blood pressure.”
“It’s fine.” She brushes it off.
“It’s not fine, Karissa.” My voice is tight.
She rolls her eyes. “I was just nervous.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want you to stay with me until she’s born.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t be alone. He said it can happen fast, and I don’t like that,” I admit.
“You’re overthinking. Ella said—”
“Ella wasn’t at the appointment today,” I cut in.
Karissa crosses her arms over her stomach and leans her head back against the seat. “Well, if she thinks it’s necessary then…fine, but I’m not worried.”
“Whatever.” I shake my head. Her lack of concern irritates me. This is a child. She’s about to become a mother and it doesn’t seem like she fully understands how big a deal that is.
The truck ride home is tense. I’m tense—worried for her, and for this baby.
She has nothing.
I mean, what if she developed preeclampsia tomorrow and they had to take the baby out right away? Then what? Where’s the baby gonna sleep when she brings her home—the dog kennel? She doesn’t have a crib, clothes…anything.
I need to talk to Mom and Ella. Maybe they’ll have an idea. I’m sure Ella could lend her some things Cora’s done with.
“I’m gonna drop you off and head up to my parents’ for a bit.”
“I thought you were so worried about me being alone,” she mutters.
My grip tightens on the wheel. “I am, but I won’t be long, and I trust that if you feel anything you’ll call me immediately.”
“I would,” she murmurs, playing with her hands. It reminds me of Addie. She does that when she’s nervous too.
Stepping through the threshold of the big house, the smell of food hits me. I don’t think there’s ever been a time I’ve walked in here and not smelled something cooking.
Mom’s always baking, cooking, canning, preserving something.
When I turn the corner, it’s just her. Dad’s not even in his chair, and Addison’s car was gone from out front too.
“Where’s everyone?”
“Dad is in the garage cleaning guns and your sister is at Wesley’s.”
“Oh okay.” I slowly pace around the kitchen.
“How’s Karissa?”
I sigh, leaning against the counter, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Oh boy,” she says.
“I don’t know. I took her to her appointment and they’re talking about preeclampsia.”
“Was her blood pressure high?”
“Yeah, and it seems as though I’m the only one concerned.”
“What makes you say that?” She turns to me, but I don’t even think I have an explanation.
“Because she’s just, she’s—” I stutter.
“She’s scared, Cody.”
“Well, scared or not, that baby is coming in the next few weeks and she doesn’t have a damn thing for it.” My tone is harsher than I meant but Mom barely flinches. Like she’s used to it, like she knows how I am. I huff. “Sorry, I’m just—”
She cuts me off softly, gently, like always. “I already have been talking with Ella,” she says. “She’s going to give her some things Cora’s done with. I also talked with Janet, Pastor Charlie’s wife, you know? About having something for her at the church next Sunday.”
Relief hits, but I stare at her. “Well gee, Mom, thanks for telling me.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t think you wanted in on planning a baby shower.”
“I don’t, but knowing that would’ve eased my mind.”
“Well, I’m sorry. Just don’t say anything…we want to surprise her.”
“I won’t.” I start back toward the door, and I can feel Mom’s eyes still watching me.
“Cody.”
“What?” I don’t turn around.
“Be gentle with her. She doesn’t need your bark.”
“Yup. Trying,” I mutter and leave.