And it’d only been a week.
Despite feeling lousy, Ginger allowed Hayden to invite his friends Kyler and Anton McKay for a sleepover. The boys amused themselves, but seeing Kyler reminded Ginger of Kane. The boy was all McKay with his dark hair, blue eyes and boyish cowboy charm.
Week two didn’t fly by any faster than week one had.
When Ginger threw up her breakfast, lunch and supper for three days straight, she knew she’d have to break down and make a doctor’s appointment. It’d been a lousy winter regarding her health, between the accident and the sinus infection that’d dragged on for a solid month. Her immune system was slacking; she’d caught every virus that’d come down the pike. Grateful as she was that neither Hayden nor her father had contracted anything from her, she was damn sick of being sick.
Doc Monroe ordered a bunch of tests. The worst one was the influenza A test, when the nurse stuck a tube up her nose to gather mucus. Urine and blood work were a piece of cake in comparison.
She sat in the exam room, staring at her sock-clad feet. She’d felt so rotten and off-balance the last three weeks she hadn’t even worn high-heeled shoes.
Ten minutes ticked by. She rolled down on the exam table. Even that simple movement sent her stomach churning. She curled into a ball, pulling the blanket under her chin. Maybe if she closed her eyes the room would stop spinning.
“Ginger?”
She jumped and sat up, completely disoriented. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”
“It’s okay. We’re overbooked today.”
Ginger rearranged the sheet across her thighs after she tugged down the hospital gown. She looked at Joely, flipping back and forth between pages in her medical chart. “So Doc, what’s the prognosis?
Influenza A?”
“No. You tested negative.”
“Shit. Is it swine flu?”
“You tested negative for that too.”
When Dr. Monroe set the clipboard aside and pinched the bridge of her nose, Ginger had her first feeling of alarm. “What’s wrong with me?”
“A couple of questions first. You were on a ten-day cycle of antibiotics after your accident, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And then, according to your patient’s report, you filled a fourteen-day-cycle prescription of antibiotics for a sinus infection four weeks before that?”
“Yes. But it didn’t seem to work, so I refilled it again a couple of weeks ago.”
“First of all, you should’ve set up an appointment instead of getting a refill, an oversight I’ve corrected by canceling your standing prescription at DeWitt’s. I’m curious to know the details of your sinus infection symptoms, and why you didn’t feel the antibiotic worked.”
Ginger frowned. “Besides my head being stuffy? I constantly have a headache. My equilibrium is off and I get motion sick very easily. So I’m nauseous and dog-tired all the time.”
Dr. Monroe crossed her arms over her chest. “Ginger. You’re a smart woman. How could you not read the warning labels on the drug information sheet? I know you got them. I know you scour them if it’s Hayden’s medication. But you don’t do that for yourself?”
Not a good sign, getting her ass chewed by her doctor.
“Here’s the CliffsNotes version of pharmacology. Antibiotics can render birth control pills ineffective, especially the low dosage type you’re currently taking. I would’ve made a point of discussing it with you if I’d known you were sexually active—”
“This hasn’t ever been an issue before because I’ve been a freakin’ monk since I moved here.”
“When did your abstinence status change?”
“After my accident. When Kane stayed with us. It just sort of…happened.”
“So it was a one-time thing?”
Ginger bit her lip, tempted to lie. “No, it wasn’t a one-time thing. God. He’s become like this…addiction. We’re doing it all the freakin’ time. I can’t keep my hands off him and Kane can’t keep his hands off me. I’ve never felt this way about any man.” Ginger inhaled slowly and steadily. “It’s like my hormones have taken control of my life.”
“Your hormones are in control, Ginger, because you’re pregnant.”
Her mouth dropped open and all the air emptied from her lungs. “What?”
“You honestly had no clue?” Dr. Monroe asked gently, but with a hint of skepticism.
She shook her head.
“Your last menstrual cycle ended…just after New Year’s?”
“Yes.” She paused and counted. “Oh. My. God. It’s…March!”
“Which means, in my estimation, that you are eight weeks pregnant.”
Holy hell. She’d probably gotten pregnant the very first time they’d had sex. Ginger’s thoughts bounced like a million rubber balls. Her tears fell—part frustration, part relief, part fear. “How am I going to tell Kane? He’s been calving for almost three weeks and he has limited cell phone service…” Not something she wanted to tell him over the phone anyway.
But Dr. Monroe didn’t have any magical advice about how to break the news to the father-to-be. She helped Ginger sit up. “Eat small meals until the morning sickness passes. I’ll give you vitamins. And obviously you can stop taking the pill.”
“Funny.” Ginger dressed. She ran her hand down her stomach. Was it her imagination or did she have pooch there? Already?
She dreaded going back to the office, so she wandered down the sidewalk and found herself standing in front of Sky Blue.
Coincidence?
The aroma of sage, lemongrass and lavender greeted her. Followed by the sweet scent of wild summer roses, the crisp, clean tang of freshly laundered clothes hanging on the line, and an earthy trace of newly mown grass.
“Ginger! Good to see you,” Skylar said behind her.
She spun around. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in to browse. There are so many new products.”
“You should try the goat’s milk soap. It’s unbelievably creamy and the almond scent is to die for.”
“When’d you start this line?”
“A few months ago. Kade’s cousin Chassie raises goats and she has leftover milk from cheese making, so we experimented and came up with a few products. They’ve been very popular. We’re working on a new liquid hand soap that’ll infuse the scent of chokecherry blossoms.”