Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
The weeks between the first and second ultrasounds were all about plans and preparation. Not just for the baby, either. Jason and Lyla's wedding was at the end of August and Tim was their best man. He had to find a suit that would meet Lyla's exacting standards and also had to write a speech. He was dreading that part the most, but Al had promised to him so it wouldn't be a complete disaster.
Planning for the baby was a lot more fun and Tim didn't even mind shopping for the crib and stroller. He was always astounded by the amount of equipment babies required. Car seats and high chairs and playpens and swings and walkers not to mention all the clothes. He remembered all too well his experiences babysitting his niece and nephews and how they could go through about six outfits in a day.
Billy had warned him that Al might just "pop" one night, that she'd go to bed with a small bulge and wake up with a big ol' pregnant bump. Tim had thought Billy was just exaggerating or teasing, but it sure seemed like that's how it happened. About a week before the ultrasound, Al finally looked unquestionably pregnant. She reluctantly agreed to buy a few pairs of maternity pants, but she refused to buy tops, choosing instead to just raid Tim's wardrobe. He didn't mind – she looked cute in his shirts and he found it especially funny at work, to look at her and see his own name on her chest.
Al was still reading The Great Gatsby out loud, few pages every night, but they hadn't started thinking about girl's names yet. They'd agreed that they'd ask to know the gender of the baby at the second ultrasound. But it turned out that Baby Riggins was exactly as stubborn and uncooperative as his or her parents. Throughout the procedure, the baby managed to move in such a way that made it impossible to tell.
The Saturday after the ultrasound, Al and Tim were having breakfast in the kitchen. Al was looking through brochures from different hospitals and talking about things like birth plans and birthing suites. Tim was eating cornflakes and hoping she wouldn't get too graphic and put him off his breakfast.
"You don't have to come in to the delivery room, you know." said Al.
"Like hell I don't. Where else am I going to be?"
"It's just, I know how you feel about hospitals."
"I think I can get over it for this. Just keep the clowns away," he said with a smile.
She grabbed his hand and put it on her belly, just in time for him to feel a sharp jab. He looked at her, eyes nearly as wide as his grin.
"That's amazing. It's weird....like getting contact from aliens or something," said Tim, knowing that in his excitement, he probably wasn't making sense.
"I know," smiled Al. "I've been able to feel movement for a couple of weeks, but it's only since yesterday that the kicks started to get sharp enough that you'd be able to feel them."
"You realize, I'm never going to be able to take my hand off your belly now," said Tim, pulling her out of her seat and into his lap so he could wrap his arms around her and press both hands tight against her bump.
She took the opportunity to kiss his neck. "I've never had any problem with you keeping your hands on me."
Tim enjoyed the moment, Al's warm breath on his neck and her curls tickling his face. He felt a few more jabs against his hands and tried to imagine what their baby would look like and would grow up to be like.
"Do you hear that?" asked Al.
Tim listened, then shook his head. "I don't hear anything."
"Exactly!" said Al. "It's finally stopped raining."
Tim looked out the window and could see the sun for what felt like the first time in weeks. It had been one of the rainiest springs on record, a fact Al had complained about since it meant she didn't get to walk as much as she would have liked. She jumped out of his lap.
"Let's go for a walk before the weather changes its mind."
Hearing the W-word, George leapt up and began dancing around the kitchen. Bruno, however, remained on his side in his bed, his tail thumping against the floor. Al went over to the kitchen door, put on her shoes, and brought Tim his boots. While he was sliding them on, Al put on her green barn coat and started to clap her hands.
"C'mon, Bruno, we're going for a walk. Let's go."
The old dog rolled over and struggled to stand. His back legs wavered underneath him as he forced himself up from the floor. He was nearly standing when he yelped and collapsed, one leg splayed out at an unnatural angle. Al rushed over to him and gently eased him onto his side. She picked up his leg, which caused him to yelp and begin panting. She tried again, but any movement at all to the leg produced obvious pain.
Tim looked on helplessly as Al stood up. He saw sadness and fear on her face, then watched as those emotions were replaced by grim determination.
"Timmy, stay with him a minute, would you?" she asked as she brushed past him, her hand light and reassuring on his back.
He got down on the floor next to Bruno, rubbed the dog's ears and scratched his neck. George followed Al out of the room. Tim could hear her opening the garage door. She was gone for about five minutes before she returned with a blanket.
"Where's George?" asked Tim.
"I put him in the run outside. Here, we need to get Bruno onto this so it'll be easier to lift him."
Tim followed her instructions as they slowly and carefully managed to get the dog wrapped in the blanket. Al wanted to help carry him, but Tim insisted that he could handle it. Al held the dog's head, in case he snapped, but even in pain, Bruno was too good-natured to lash out. He whimpered and yelped as Tim scooped him up and stood carefully, trying not to jostle the dog unnecessarily.
Tim followed Al out of the house and headed for his truck but she stopped him and directed him toward to cottonwood tree that was on a small rise about 50 yards from their house. It was one of Al's favorite spots because they could sit on the low-slung Adirondack chairs and watch the sun set over their lake. He put Bruno down where Al told him to and looked at her, a bit confused.
"Al, aren't we going to take him to the vet?"
She shook her head. "His leg's broken and he's really suffering. I don't want him to suffer anymore."
Tim looked around and saw the shovel leaning against the tree and the rifle open on top of the chair.
"Al, honey, think about this for a minute."
"I have," she said quietly. "I used to spend the summers on my uncle's farm in Iowa. I've seen a few things like this before – horses, dogs. You think it's going to be any better for Bruno if we put him in the truck and bounce him around for a half hour to get to the vet, then haul him out and put him through the exam. Besides, he hates the vet."
"Yeah, but what if the vet can help him. They can fix a broken leg, can't they?"
Al shook her head. "A dog can't break a healthy bone just from standing up. There's something else wrong there, bone cancer maybe. I don't know. Whatever it is, it's not something that's a simple fix."
Tim watched as Al knelt next to Bruno, whispered to the dog and scratched his ears while he tried to lick her hand. She stood up, brushed tears from her eyes, and walked over to the chair, Tim following closely behind her. She picked up the rifle, loaded it, and snapped it shut. Tim put his hand on her arm.
"I'll do it," he said, not sure if he'd actually be able to.
She shook her head and walked past him. She put the muzzle of the gun to the back of Bruno's head and Tim had to close his eyes. He counted Mississipis in his head, the way Billy'd taught him to when he was a little kid who was afraid of thunderstorms. Seven Missisippis later, he heard the crack of the rifle and then snap of Al clearing the chamber and opening it. Before he could react, she'd replaced the rifle on the chair, picked up the shovel, and started digging near the dog's body.
Tim grabbed the shovel and eased it out of her hannds.
"He's my responsibility," she said.
"No, he's our responsibility. Sit down and let me do the rest," Tim put an arm around her and squeezed her tight.
Reluctantly, Al agreed and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and hide her hands in her face. Tim dug quickly, aiming to make the hold about as long as the dog and a few feet deep. The soil was clumpy and dark, but the rain had softened it so the digging was easier than he expected. Tim found that he couldn't look at the blanked-wrapped dog without feeling like he was going to cry, so he kept his eyes either on the shovel or on his wife.
When the hole was deep enough, he scrambled out of it and sat down next to Al.
"Did you want to, I don't know, say a few words or something?" he asked, taking her hand.
She shook her head. "George should see him though before we bury him. I'll go let him out."
Tim watched her pick up the rifle and walk toward the house until she disappeared around the side. About a minute later, a grey and silver streak was loping toward him. George came to him first, snuffled around at his face, then wandered over to Bruno. Tim wasn't sure what to expect, but his dog seemed to know what had happened. He sniffed Bruno's head, nudged him with his paw, and then backed away but stood nearby.
Al returned shortly thereafter with two bottles of beer. She handed them both to Tim and then pulled a bottle of juice from her pocket. Tim stood up, opened one of the beers and drained half of it. Then he and Al went over and eased Bruno over and into his grave. Tim looked at George and wondered if he'd be able to do what Al had done, if he'd be handling it with such sad calmness as she'd been able to. He didn't think he could.
He kissed the top of her head. "Billy was right about you."
"Why? What'd he say?"
"That you were tough as nails and twice as sharp." Tim picked up the shovel and began moving the dirt back into the hole. They were quiet for several minutes.
"Remember the first time you met Bruno?" asked Al as Tim shoveled on the last of the soil.
"Remember it? How could I forget? Not only did he nearly scare the piss out of me, it was the day I met you." He looked up at Al, who was smiling at him.
"C'mon, let's go for that walk now. The weather could still change its mind anytime," she said as she held out her hand.