"What was she doing there, living dangerously?"

The question started Hank to talking, and before he knew it, he'd blurted out most of the details, including everything about Carly's eye disease. Afterward, Zeke just sat there, staring at the toes of his boots.

"Would you please say something?" Hank prodded, his voice ragged with stress and embarrassment.

"I can't think of anything." Zeke downed the contents of his glass in three gulps. Whistling at the burn, he said, "I can't believe I'm hearing this, Hank. A blind girl? What in the hell are you gonna do?"

"That's why I'm here, for advice. It's not the usual situation. I can't just help her out financially, arrange to see the kid, and let her manage on her own."

Zeke leaned his head against the chair back. When he looked at Hank again, he said, "You need a drink, little brother. You're shaking like a leaf."

Hank glanced at his hands, saw that Zeke was right, and said, "Maybe so. I'm still in shock, I think. When her friend Bess started laying all this on me, I felt numb. Now feeling numb would be an improvement. I can't believe I did something so damned stupid. That it was with someone like Carly only makes it worse."

"A drink or two can't hurt," Zeke assured him. "Maybe it'll calm you down so you can get this sorted out. The sofa's yours for the night."

"Thanks. I'm sure as hell not going to drink and drive. The way my luck's running, I'd have an accident."

Zeke paced back to the bar. "Pardon me for pointing it out, but it sounds to me as if you've broken that rule a few times." At Hank's questioning look, he added, "Driving two blocks over to a motel. Ring a bell?"

"There's a connecting alleyway," Hank explained, "and it's always late at night. I only have to cross one public street, and it's a side street with no traffic at that hour. Most of the time, though, I just lock my truck and call a cab."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'd hate to think you drove on a main thoroughfare in that condition."

"Never." Hank met his brother's gaze. "I know it may not sound it, but for the most part, I've been responsible. The situation with Carly was a deviation from the usual for me."

"How did you get that far into things without-you know, realizing she was a virgin? At some point, didn't you notice she wasn't practiced at all her moves?"

"Her moves seemed pretty damned good to me. She was-" Hank broke off and frowned. "You aging that whiskey or pouring it?"

Zeke finished filling the glasses and resumed his seat. After handing Hank a tumbler, he said, "If this Carly loses her sight again, how in the world will she stay in school without grants and financial aid? That aside, she'll have a lot of additional costs-doctor bills, hospital bills, and possible complications during the pregnancy. And how will a blind woman deal with the day-to-day burden of caring for an infant while she's trying to attend classes?"

Hank just shook his head, feeling heartsick.

"You're right," Zeke said. "Picking up the tab for everything won't be enough. I'm not even sure that's a practical solution. Just the cost of supporting two households for a couple of years would be a huge drain on your pocketbook. You may not be able to swing it, Hank."

Hank had thought the same thing.

"Do you like this young woman well enough to marry her?"

"I can't honestly say if I like her or not," Hank confessed hollowly. "That night, getting to know her wasn't on my agenda. She was pretty. I wanted to score. The chitchat was just window dressing-something a guy does to break the ice. As for marrying her?" Hank puffed a breath into his cheeks. "It's the only affordable solution I can think of, and my druthers don't really matter."

"Have you mentioned marriage to her as to option?"

"No. I never got around to discussing options with her. She won't talk to me. Every time I call, she hangs up."

Zeke arched his dark eyebrows. "You had sex with the woman, and now she won't speak to you?"

Giving his whiskey a slow swirl, Hank explained the confusion about Carly's name. "I wasn't exactly what you'd call a prince that night, either. I can't clearly remember what happened, only that she cried out. That was when I realized she was a virgin. Directly afterward-well, I think I must have passed out. I woke up the next morning on the back floorboard. She was long gone. I've been worried sick for a week and a half. I couldn't remember her last name to track her down, and she didn't get in touch with me until this evening."

"Well, little brother, it's definitely a complicated situation. Maybe you should go to her house and talk to her, face to face. It's been my experience that women find it more difficult to cut a guy off when he's there in the flesh."

"I'll have to track her down first. She won't give me her address." The dull ache behind Hank's eyes had sharpened and magnified. "Before I do that, I need to have all my ducks in a row. For obvious reasons, she's not going to be hot on the idea of marriage. But no matter how I circle it, I can't think of a better answer. With the eye problem, she can't possibly work and help out with any of the costs. And her friend Bess told me her health insurance is a bare-bones major medical policy that only covers eighty percent. Mine is more comprehensive, with eye and dental, plus prescription co-pay. Jake and I joined a rancher's association that offers great group insurance at reasonable rates. If Carly's my wife, she'll automatically be covered."

"Even for preexisting conditions?"

"I read the fine print before I left the house. For new spouses, there's only a three-month waiting period on all preexisting. Family rates will cost me more, but I could cover the dividends on both her policy and mine for three months. Then she'd be covered for everything, eye surgeries and childbirth included."

"That alone would save you a bundle."

"Yeah," Hank said, his voice gone hoarse with exhaustion. "Cohabiting would be cheaper, too. One household, one set of utility bills, and all that. I was thinking we might live in the cabin along the creek. It's not the Ritz, but there's no rent, and I can fix the place up. I'm making pretty good money now, and I've got a nice nest egg tucked away, but I'm still not a rich man."

"It's a hell of a way to begin a marriage, Hank."

"I know. But what choice do I have?" Hank stared morosely into his whiskey.

"Getting married isn't high on my list. Trust me on that. But it is my baby. Carly's whole future is riding on me and how I face up to my responsibilities."

Zeke's weathered face creased in a slight smile. After searching Hank's face, he said, "You keep on, little brother, and I might start thinking you've finally grown up."

Hank had a knot in his chest the size of a baseball. "I deserve that, I guess. I was a little late sowing my wild oats. Wasn't I?"

Zeke sank back in the chair and crossed his ankles. "You could say that. I got all of it out of my system in college."

"I was working two jobs and taking a full course load in college," Hank reminded him. "Dad was going bankrupt paying our sister's medical bills my first year, and he lost the ranch the next."

"Ah, that's right." Zeke frowned and his expression turned grim. Hank knew that his brother was thinking of their sister Bethany and remembering that sad time in their lives. Despite the many surgeries and all of their father's sacrifices, Bethany's accident at eighteen had left her a paraplegic, and she'd been confined to a wheelchair ever since. "I guess sowing your oats wasn't an option. Was it?"

"No, and after I graduated, I was too busy working and saving to go in partners with Jake to take any time out for foolishness. This last year, the tide turned. I started making better money, and I didn't have to work myself into the ground doing it. It was the first time I could enjoy myself. I went a little crazy for a while, I guess. Buying myself toys, drinking. Now Carly is paying for it." Hank sighed. "I never dreamed something like this might happen. I feel so-" Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't describe how I feel. Like a shit, only worse."

"You know what Dad says. 'There's no better teacher than regret.' "

Hank turned his glass in his hand. "Enough about that. It's done, and beating up on myself won't change anything. I have to think about Carly and what's best for her and the baby. There'll be time enough later to kick myself in the ass."

"True. The child will be your responsibility for the next twenty-one years or until it graduates from college."

"Right now, I'm more concerned about the immediate future. The way I see it, if I can convince Carly to marry me, I can swing everything financially. My schedule is fairly flexible at the ranch, so I could watch the baby, too, eliminating the cost of childcare and freeing her up to study. The same applies if anything goes wrong during the pregnancy. I'll be able to take care of her. Her friend Bess seems to be very fond of her, but from what I gathered, she's a college student, too. She can't very well attend classes, work a job, study, and still find time to help with the baby or take care of Carly if she gets sick."

"How do you think Carly will greet this idea?" Zeke asked. "It's bound to take some convincing."

Just thinking about Carly's possible reaction made Hank's headache worse.

"Maybe you could go into it as a temporary arrangement," Zeke suggested. "Just for a couple of years, until she's had another surgery to restore her sight, gets her master's, lands a job, and can make it on her own if you help her out financially."

Hank quickly warmed to that idea. "Two years sounds a hell of a lot better than a life sentence. Go on."

Zeke nodded. "Locking down for a lifetime with someone you don't love is a frightening thought. This way, you could pay all her expenses, help her get through the pregnancy, and take care of the baby while she's going to school. When she gets her degree, you can give her some start-up cash, and then it's adios. She won't be devastated by the hardship, the kid will have your name, and you'll automatically be granted visitation privileges by the state. It's not an ideal solution, but in this day and age, a lot of kids have divorced parents. Afterward, you'll both be able to move on with your lives."

For the first time since his conversation with Bess, Hank felt a ray of hope. "She just might go for that. If I can get her to speak to me, that is."

"I've got no brilliant ideas on that front. You're the one with the charm, little brother. I was in the back row when charisma was handed out."

"You're charming enough."

Zeke laughed and threw Hank a sofa pillow. "Right. Horses love me. Women-well, they're another matter. I call a spade a spade. Women like a man to lie a little." He pushed to his feet. "One question. If Carly refuses to give you her address, how are you going to find her?"

"I have her phone number. A good friend of mine at the police department should be able to get her address from a reverse directory. Finding her won't be a problem. Convincing her to talk to me will be the hard part."

Chapter Seven.

Carly ran her fingers over the bottles on each shelf of the medicine cabinet in search of the sterile eyewash. Since her surgery three weeks ago, she often awakened of a morning with matted eyes.

After locating the squeeze bottle, she filled the plastic cup, pressed it over her eye, and leaned her head back to let the solution soften the crust that had matted her lashes. Even after she cleansed both eyes, the edges of everything still looked fuzzy.

Concerned, Carly went to the kitchen. After several aborted attempts, she finally managed to dial the office number of her corneal specialist in Portland. When he finally came to the phone, Carly was so upset she was trembling. Haltingly, she described her blurry vision and told him that washing her eyes hadn't helped.

"Has the pregnancy been confirmed?" he asked.

Her stomach squeezed with anxiety. "Yes. They called with the results yesterday."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Carly. As I explained during our last conversation, pregnancy weakens your resistance to lattice, diverting most of the nutrients and vitamins to the baby instead of to your eyes. In cases like yours, where an SK was done on already diseased corneas, the lattice already has a foothold and can escalate quickly. In short, if the blurriness is that pronounced, it may be due to the pregnancy. I really wish you hadn't gotten pregnant right now."

Not long ago, Carly had wished the same thing, but now she'd come to want this baby. Bracing herself for the worst, she asked, "With it starting this fast, how quickly do you think I may go blind again, Dr. Merrick?"

The doctor took a moment to reply. "It's impossible to predict." He paused again. "Let's think positively. All right? The blurry vision could be due to a number of other things. Your visual cortex may be acting up. Or you could be developing blepharitis, an inflammation of the eyelids. Yours are badly scarred from the lattice." He paused for a moment. "Just to be safe, I'd like you to be examined. Given the distance, it'd be silly for you to drive four hours to come here when the doctor in Crystal Falls is perfectly qualified to check your eyes. Can you arrange for transportation to his office today?"

Bess had left for another interview, but Carly expected her back in the early afternoon. "I could get there by two or three."

"Good. I'll call his office, have them work you in, and let you know what time to be there."

"Thanks, Dr. Merrick."

"Chances are it's only a mild case of blepharitis or something similar. He may just tell you to continue with your antibiotic drops, give your eyes frequent rests, and try not to worry too much. Getting upset isn't good for you or the baby."

Carly looped an arm around her waist. The doctor was right. How she felt about losing her sight again wasn't the primary concern anymore. She had a little person to think of now.

The specialist concluded the conversation by saying, "According to my records, your six-week checkup is on July seventh. I'll be able to tell you more then."

"If the blurry vision is from the lattice, should I come sooner?" she asked.

The doctor hesitated before replying. "If the lattice is to blame, Carly, there's virtually nothing I can do until the baby's born. We just need to make sure you don't have a postsurgical infection. If, by some chance, that's the problem, the doctor there can treat it as well as I could."

After hanging up the phone, Carly put a piece of bread in the toaster and then stood before the open refrigerator, trying to see what sat on the shelves. Nothing looked appetizing. Over the last week, she'd been craving sour foods. She plucked out an unopened quart of chocolate milk, and then turned to the cupboards. On the middle shelf, she found what she hoped was a jar of sauerkraut.

When she unscrewed the lid, the sour smell that wafted to her nostrils was heavenly. She grabbed a fork, took a tentative taste to identify the contents, and then began eating ravenously straight from the jar. Wonderful, she thought as she chased down a mouthful of fermented cabbage with flavored milk. Rationally, she knew the combination should make her shudder, but oddly it didn't. Even better, it seemed to settle her queasy stomach.

After eating, Carly showered and dressed. Upon emerging from the bathroom, she felt more like her old self than she had in days, the nausea and wooziness nearly gone. Sauerkraut and chocolate milk. She made a mental note to stock up on both items so she would have plenty on hand for breakfast each morning. Brussels sprouts sounded good, too. She remembered hearing somewhere that food cravings during pregnancy were often caused by vitamin and mineral deficiencies.

She'd just finished brushing her hair when the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, she found a man standing on the porch. At a distance of five feet, with sunlight behind him to create a blinding nimbus of gold around his dark head, his features were indistinct. She stared blankly at him, the sudden brightness lancing into her eyes like needles.

"Hi, again," he said.

Carly would have recognized that deep, silken voice anywhere. Her stomach knotted and then felt as if it had dropped to the region of her knees. She clenched her hand over the doorknob, momentarily unsteady on her feet. She was too startled to speak, her mind circling dizzily around unanswerable questions. How had he found her? Why had he bothered? And how dare he say, "Hi, again," as if they'd parted under the best of circumstances?

"Don't you recognize me?" he asked with an incredulous laugh.

Carly wasn't about to explain that the sun was blinding her. He stepped closer, which brought his dark, chiseled features into better focus and made him seem to loom in the doorway, far taller and broader through the shoulders than she remembered. The brilliant blue of his eyes rivaled the sky behind him.

Carly's first urge was to slam the door in his face and run to the bedroom. Instead, she stood there, clinging to the door for support. "Hello, Hank."

He shifted his weight, bending one knee and cocking a hip. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue shirt, he looked exactly as she remembered, the very epitome of rugged strength. When he grinned, flashing even, white teeth, her heart bumped against her ribs, and she couldn't help but stare at his mouth, remembering how she'd felt when he kissed her. The memory infuriated her and filled her with shame. How could she have been so witless? Their encounter had meant nothing to him. She had meant nothing to him. He probably slept with a different woman every weekend.

"Go away," she managed to squeeze out.

He braced a hand on the doorframe. "You know I can't do that, Carly. I spoke to Bess on the phone last night. I know about the baby."

"Bess told you?" Carly's sense of betrayal came hard and fast.

"Someone had to. It is my child. I had a right to know."

Bess knew how Carly felt about seeing Hank again. "And she gave you our address as well?"

"No, no." He held up a hand. "She wouldn't tell me where you lived. I had your phone number. A friend of mine ferreted out your address."

Carly pressed a protective hand over her stomach. She didn't like the determined glint in his eyes. As an undergraduate, she'd known girls who accidentally got pregnant, and she remembered very well how most of their boyfriends had reacted. Get rid of it. If Hank had come here, hoping to convince her to do something like that, he had another think coming.

"I'm sorry for not recognizing your name when you called last night. With all the noise at the bar, I thought you said your name was Charlie. It took me a second to make the connection, and by then, you'd hung up. It wasn't that I didn't remember you. I even went back to the bar and put out feelers, hoping to find you. If you don't believe me, call Chaps and ask Gary, the bartender."

"At this point, I don't really care if you remembered me or not." Even as Carly said the words, her heart panged. "I just want you to go away."

He dragged a boot heel over the doormat. "You're carrying my child." His voice dipped to a husky timbre. "I can't walk away from that."

"I'm not giving you an option."

He locked gazes with her, his blue eyes suddenly sharp and piercing. No smile softened his expression now. "I'd like to talk to you about how we should handle this."

Trembling, Carly said, "I'm having this baby. If you're here to offer me money for an abortion, you can forget the idea as quickly as you forgot me. My baby isn't a mistake to be rectified. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear. I'm not here to suggest anything of the sort. Will you ask me in and hear what I do have to say?"

"You can say it on the porch."

Carly didn't care if she sounded hateful. She'd behaved so foolishly that night. Every cliche she'd ever heard seemed to apply-acting like a besotted idiot at the top of the list.