Kieran walked to the cold fireplace and rested his hand on the mantle, staring at the ashes. “You had your mind made up long before we met.”
“I believed you were ready to have a family the only way I could give you one.”
“Why think about it until we married and knew for certain? It’s not the only way. There are fertility clinics. Significant scarring doesn’t mean your womb can’t carry a child.” The raised tone of his voice, so uncharacteristic, surprised her.
“It would be our child, conceived in our hearts rather than in my womb.” Bonny moved closer to him and cupped his face in her hands. “I have one ovary covered in scar tissue, stage IV endometriosis, and the surgeries failed. Dr. Moncrieffe wasn’t encouraging about other methods.”
“A small-town doctor. If we go to Edinburgh, Glasgow, or London, they can do more. We could try.” He gripped her arms, eyes bright, hope and determination in his voice.
“I’m afraid, Kieran. We live so far from help. What if I had problems again? Is it so important for a child to have MacDonell genes? Children are children, and God puts families together in many different ways. Kari is adopted, and few people we know are more well-adjusted and happier.”
“When Bronwyn and I lived in Glasgow, we had some friends who adopted a little boy. Months later, when they felt like a real family and the adoption was almost final, the birthmother changed her mind and took the baby back. They were heartbroken—gave up on their dreams—never tried again. I’ve lost two children. I can’t lose another. You talk like adoption’s a sure thing, but it’s not.”
“Fertility treatments aren’t either. We just lost a child and you almost lost me. Kieran, there are no guarantees. Why didn’t you tell me about your friends before?”
“I hoped you’d wait to discuss it until you were stronger. Bonny, I don’t want to adopt for a lot of reasons. I’m not certain I could love someone else’s child as my own.” Kieran drew her tight against him, fingers tangled in her hair. “Please, visit the fertility specialist for me. If you can’t get pregnant or it’s too risky, we’ll discuss adoption.”
“No more surgery. I can’t take it physically or emotionally.” Bonny disentangled herself from his arms and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready. Genetics don’t matter to me. Motherhood does. Pregnancy and birth are short-term experiences. Parenting lasts a lifetime. What’s more important?”
She didn’t wait for his answer.
***
Emily—pretty, pitiful, and more heartrending than Kieran described. This baby might be for them, but God, not her, must convince him.
When Kieran asked Bonny to sit in on the Friday appointment, she brought in pictures for the walls, a small table, a lamp, and a couple of plants to make the counseling office at Faith Chapel warm and homey. It still felt cold since they were not going to offer to take the girl’s baby.
“They’ll give you profiles of adoptive parents to choose from, people who have passed all their training and background checks. Loving people who want children desperately.” Bonny bit her tongue until it stung.
“Mum and I agree they need to be Christians. If I can’t raise the baby, we want parents who will teach him right.” Puddles formed in Emily’s dark blue eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept with my boyfriend, but he’s older, twenty-one. I thought he’d marry me.”
“An agency in Inverness works with Christian families. We’ll start with them and make the phone calls for you.” She hoped to secure a social worker who would travel to Fort William. How would she ever remain objective?
Neither spoke on the ride home. Bonny bit her tongue and fought a tug-o-war between anger and sadness, staring out the window rather than facing Kieran.
“I’m going to Torr na Carriach early in the morning to check on the kyloe. I’ll prepare for Sunday’s Bible study tonight and eat dinner in the office while I work.” He announced it when they pulled into the garage. Clearer than the clouds mirrored in the loch, she recognized his determination to avoid discussing the cry of her heart.
“You weren’t supposed to go off alone.” Anyone could check on the Highland cattle.
“I refuse to allow a maniac control over our lives.”
“You make an adoption discussion taboo but you can endanger yourself. What kind of sense does that make?”
“When I asked for help, I knew you’d want Emily’s child. You’ll counsel her better but I can’t adopt now, Bonny. Accept it.” The chill in his voice withered her hopes like leaves at the first frost.
“Fine.” She climbed out and slammed her door. “I’ll save the chicken for tomorrow and make sandwiches. Go ahead and do what you want without regard for anyone else. This isn’t the man I thought I married. I can’t believe you’d be narrow-minded enough to insist on a MacDonell pedigree. A child in need of a loving home isn’t good enough. I’m going to bed early and read until I fall asleep.”
“I’ll get busy then.” Without stopping, Kieran headed upstairs the minute they walked inside, leaving her alone in the kitchen.
Oh, I could shove him into the cold loch if I had the chance. Lord, if you want us to adopt, you have to convince him, because I can’t be objective at all.
Kieran slid into bed after midnight. Bonny remained on her side, feigning sleep. Instead of drawing closer together through the first trials of their marriage, he seemed to pull away.
The next morning, he informed her they had an appointment with a Glasgow fertility specialist in one month. Everything he hoped for frightened her.
***
Kieran left before Bonny awakened the next morning. She scrambled eggs and warmed up leftover patties of black sausage to boost the iron in her blood. A day spent alone in the house would only feed her still-simmering anger and insidious rebellion lurking like the Loch Ness Monster. If Kieran could go off alone, she would too.
With a full stomach, she headed upstairs for her riding clothes, pulled on boots, and walked across the lawn to the barn, lunch in hand.
“Mornin’, lass.” Angus walked out of the barn office. “Are you taking Misty out? She’s feeling her oats without your wild rides.”
“It may not be wild yet, but we both need the exercise.” She headed for the tack room.
The gentle old man brushed past and blocked the door to the tack room. “Kieran would think I’d gone aff my heid if I let you saddle her yourself. You look fair wabbit before noon every day. I’ll do the work. You enjoy the ride.”
“If you’re testing my Scots, I understood every word. You’re not crazy and I am tired. Thank you.” She sat on a bale of hay while he groomed and saddled the little mare, keeping the conversation to farm matters.
He led her saddled horse into the sun and gave Bonny a hand up. “If you’ll pardon me, I noticed the chill in Kieran’s voice when he left. Make your differences right before the day’s end, lassie. It does no good to let resentment build between the two of you. My missus and I never let the sun go down on our anger. If it’s to do with your longing for a bairn, give him time. The MacDonells are a proud lot when it comes to their heritage.”