Chapter 7 – Love Hurts

I think Doralice was hoping that I'd get up in the morning and go to work just like I usually did, but I wasn't gonna let that happen. She'd avoided a visit to Simon Petry long enough that I was suspicious of her motives; it seemed like the headaches were bothering her more than she wanted to admit.

Simon did an exam and then spent more time asking questions. He wanted to talk to both of us, and we sat in his office and waited. Doralice was sure it would be nothing important; I wasn't so confident. "When did the headaches start, Doralice? Before or after the nausea went away?"

"Right after, Simon."

"And do you have one every day?"

"Well, almost every day." This, of course, she hadn't told me.

"Have you noticed any change in them? Are they getting worse?"

Doralice hesitated, and I caught it right away. "They are, aren't they? That's why you didn't want to see Simon, isn't it?"

Finally she answered, ignoring my questions and answering Simon's. "They are . . . a little worse than when they first started."

Simon studied the paper he'd been writing her answers on; then he frowned before raising his eyes to meet mine. He quickly shifted his gaze to my wife. "Doralice, I don't believe these are regular headaches. The symptoms you describe – nausea, the inability to tolerate bright light, the continuous pounding behind your eyes – they all point to a type of headache known as a migraine. They usually decrease in intensity when a woman is carrying a child, but they seem to have done the opposite in your case. They could continue as they are, they could increase or decrease, the amount of pain could increase or decrease. There's not much you can do about them . . . lying down with your eyes closed is the best treatment."

"What about the baby?" I interrupted.

"They shouldn't bother the baby," Simon replied, this time looking straight at me.

"Are you sure?"

"Only in very rare cases," Simon answered, emphasizing the word rare. I certainly hoped he was correct.

"And there isn't anything Doralice can do but wait and see what happens?"

Simon shook his head and looked annoyed. "No. Nothing that I know of."

"Now will you stop worrying?" Doralice asked. "I told you Beauregard was fine."

"Beauregard?" Simon sounded confused.

"It's a boy, and we're going to name him Beauregard," my wife explained.

Simon nodded. "Makes perfect sense to me."

I shook hands with the doctor and helped my wife out of her chair. As Doralice headed for the door, Simon pulled me aside. "Quit worrying so much," he instructed me quietly. "Doralice is healthy and everything is fine."

Once we got outside Doralice began to chuckle. "What?" I asked.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"I know you did. But I wanted to hear it from Simon."

Doralice said something under her breath that I couldn't understand. "What?"

"Stubborn."

XXXXXXXX

With my tendency to worry too much temporarily abated, life went on as normal. Or as close to normal as our household could get. Lucy gave birth to two tiny kittens under our bed, and we had to get used to sleeping with the little 'meow's' going on constantly; 'Beauregard' continued to grow in Doralice's belly; and Jody seemed calmer, more at peace with the outside world. Until the afternoon several weeks later when she came to visit me at Maude's.

The sandwiches that Evan and her sister were selling through Maude's were a big hit, and Evan would come by the saloon late in the afternoon or early evening to see how many we wanted for the next day. I turned that decision over to Billy, and I noticed he and Evan seemed to be getting closer. One afternoon I discovered he'd begun courting the little baker, and they were sitting at an empty table drinking coffee the afternoon Jody chose to visit.

She'd been in a relatively peaceful mood that morning when I left; she was anything but when she crashed into one of the chairs in my office. "Well, I didn't expect to see you this afternoon. Everything alright at home?" I received no answer from my sister; she just made some kind of noise that sounded almost like a snort. When I looked up it was obvious she was upset over something. I, of course, jumped to the wrong conclusion. "What's wrong? How's Doralice?"

"When did that start?" my sweet, innocent little sister asked in a voice that was decidedly hostile.

"What?"

"Billy and that little baker girl."

I sat there for a minute, unsure of what I'd just been asked, before I gave her an answer that only seemed to make her more upset. "Couple weeks ago. They look good together, don't they?"

And before I could say another word, Jody burst into tears. "No," she stated emphatically. "No."

Dense as I am sometimes, it took me a while to understand what was happening. Jody fell in love with another man. She went nowhere but home and work. Billy Sunday had grown into a handsome young buck, who had suddenly decided that Montana was too cold for him and left abruptly for Texas. Even I can figure out eventually that two plus two equals four.

I got up hastily and closed my office door. "Jody?"

"What?" she sobbed.

I went to her then, took her in my arms and let her cry. Right or not, good for her or not, she was in a lot of pain at this particular moment. "It's Billy, isn't it?"

"Y-y-y-yes."

"Does he know that you love him?"

"I don't . . . I don't know."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"No."

"What if he loves you?"

She pulled away from me then, and sat back down in her chair. "Does that look like he loves me?"

"Well . . . no." I sat in the chair next to her. "Is that why he moved to Texas?"

She shook her head. "I really don't know. The cold weather always bothered him. But when we got to be friends . . . I mean really friends . . . we agreed it would be better if we weren't around each other anymore."

"That sounds like someone who has feelings for you."

"I don't know, Bartley. Maybe I waited too long; maybe I missed my chance. Maybe I don't love him at all. I don't know; I just don't know."

I had one more question for her. "How much does it bother you that Billy's courting Evan?"

It didn't take any time at all for her to answer me. "A lot."