With Travis Mann on the payroll, things started running a whole lot smoother around the ranch and over the next two weeks I was able to breathe a little easier. My uncle and Dale still came around to help whenever they could, but I didn't have to rely on them nearly as much anymore. I knew they didn't mind – they constantly told me so – but I still felt bad every time I had to call them up for a favor.

John was doing great with his college work, but I could tell it was wearing him down, especially since he was also working part-time for Darryl's dad to try and help out with the bills.

"It's practice for all of those sleepless nights we'll spend feedin' and changin' Sara when she's born," he joked when I commented on his sleep schedule one night when I caught him studying his anatomy textbook at two in the morning.

"Sara," I mulled over his new choice of name.

"No?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess it's cute..." I shrugged, making my way towards his seated position at the kitchen table and running my hand up and down his back. "Are you just goin' down the whole alphabet at this point? Yesterday you were callin' her Riley," I chuckled.

"You keep shootin' down all my name ideas, I'm runnin' out of 'em," John said amidst a jaw-cracking yawn.

"I liked the name Talia! You're the one that ended up decidin' you didn't like it," I argued, a smile on my lips. Talking baby names with John was getting ridiculous. We couldn't settle on a single one we both really liked.

"How 'bout you princess, what do you think we should call ya?" he asked, twisting in his chair to rest his hand over my bump. I adjusted it a few inches to the right and no more than a minute later the baby gave a nasty kick.

"Did you feel it?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he grinned excitedly, looking up at me with complete amazement in his dark eyes. There was another big kick and John's face lit up. "Damn, she's on fire tonight," he chuckled.

"She's missed her daddy's voice today," I smiled, wrapping one arm around his neck so that I could sit on his lap. I was a little worried I was getting way too heavy for this, but he didn't seem to mind. He held me easily with one arm and kept his other hand on my stomach. "So have I," I admitted.

"I'm sorry," he sighed.

"Don't be, I know this means a lot to you and it means a lot to me too that you're doin' somethin' you really enjoy," I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. He needed a haircut. "Are you comin' to bed soon?" I asked.

"Yeah, just a couple more minutes... I need to finish this chapter," he replied.

"Okay," I smiled.

March 11th was the third anniversary of my father's death and I was having a really hard time with it. I woke up that morning with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. John was already up and getting ready to leave for an early class.

I needed to be strong today and push my feelings down... at least until later. I had a private lesson with one of my boarders at ten this morning and in the afternoon a group of 3rd graders were coming here for a field trip.

At four o'clock, when John finally got home, he took me to the cemetery.

"Hi mama... hi daddy," I whispered, placing a bright yellow bouquet down in front of their gravestones. "I'm sorry it's been a while... I've been uh... busy," I said, glancing at John standing next to me, my hand in his.

He gave my shoulder a light squeeze.

With John's hand on my back for added support, I lowered myself with some difficulty onto the brown grass. He crouched down next to me, reaching for my hand again.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait in the truck?" he asked in a voice that was just above a whisper. I shook my head. I needed him here with me... otherwise I knew I'd lose it completely. "Okay," he said and sat down next to me.

I stared at the white marble of their graves, focusing on the lettering. There was so much I wanted to say to them. Every single day of my life, I wished they could be there to share a memory with me. I wanted my daddy to walk me down the aisle, or for my mama to help me plan my baby shower. They were ripped away from me way too soon.

Steven Atwood, September 7 1966 – March 11 2014.

Right underneath her husband's, my mother's name was written in the same elegant font.

Debra Atwood, January 22 1967 – May 29 2012.

"They would've been married thirty-two years this fall," I said quietly. John wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "They were so good together. I don't think I've ever heard my daddy raise his voice at my mama... ever," I said with a sad smile, looking up at John.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. I squeezed his hand and turned my attention back to my parents' graves.

"Our little girl is doin' great; she's gettin' pretty big... kickin' a lot more," I said, placing both hands on my belly. As if on cue, the baby started moving around with a little more fervor. "We still haven't come up with a name we both like," I added.

"Not for lack of tryin'," John broke his silence, tempting a smile.

It started to rain a few minutes later, so we didn't get to stay too long. As the droplets started to quickly soak through my sweater, drenching my hair, I gave the cemetery one last glance.

I was getting in the truck when it happened.

I gasped out in pain, clutching the lower part of my belly. The muscles tightened uncomfortably underneath my sweater.

"What is it? What's wrong?" John asked, returning to my side in two quick steps and keeping me from collapsing on the soaked ground. Droplets were dripping off the bill of his hat and his shirt was as soaked as mine. I took a deep breath and swept my hair out of my face.

"Braxton Hicks, I'm fine," I said quickly, trying to reassure him. When he still looked worried I touched his cheek, giving him a small smile. "It'll stop in a couple seconds... I'm okay... It's happened before and I've already talked to Sally about it. She says it's normal at this stage," I explained.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking a little doubtful.

"I'm fine. We're both fine," I nodded.

More often than not, I didn't even feel the Braxton Hicks contractions. Every few days I'd get a particularly uncomfortable one, but for the most part I could just go about my business and push through them.

I didn't sleep too well that night or the one after that, and on the third day after going to the cemetery to visit my parents' graves, I felt the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life.

At first it felt like I needed to use the bathroom, so I stood up from my desk chair and took a step, only to collapse back in my seat, clutching my belly and trying to steady breathing. My stomach tightened, compressing downward. The pain was so intense; it was like the worst menstrual cramp ever.

It didn't last long: forty seconds at most. I figured it was just another Braxton Hicks contraction, so I went back to work. If it happened again I'd call Sally and schedule an appointment or something, just to be sure, but I was probably just over-thinking it.

Over the next fifteen minutes I realized the baby was getting more and more restless, moving around a lot and causing me to wince every time her foot rammed against my side. Letting out a shaky breath, I decided to call it quits for the day. I walked back to the main house, the movement helping me feel a little better.

I was too lost somewhere in my own head that I didn't see Travis coming towards me.

"Hey boss, are ya okay?" he asked when I almost ran into him.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine... have you seen John?" I asked.

"I saw him go in the house a couple minutes ago," he answered.

"Thanks," I nodded.

"Yeah, no worries," he grinned and made his way into the barn.

I crossed the driveway and climbed up the porch steps. I had my hand on the door handle and was about to push the door open when it happened again.

Oh God, something was really wrong. I hissed out in pain, fighting back tears as another contraction hit me full force, this one stronger than the last.

"John!" I yelled.

A/N: Uh oh!