An Unexpected Arrangement

by Heidi McCahan

  This morning’s disastrous outing to the pediatrician had underscored her concerns. He couldn’t even take the twins to the doctor without help. How was he going to move to another state?

  She parked in front of the Tomlinsons’ house, grabbed her purse and climbed out.

  Jack took his time exiting his truck. The slump of his shoulders and dark circles under his eyes hinted at the kind of night he’d had.

  She met him in the driveway and planted her hands on her hips. “Does your mother know we’re coming?”

  Jack nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he opened the back door and reached in to unlatch Macey’s car seat.

  Does your mother know I’m coming? That was what she wanted to ask, but she resisted the urge to pepper him with questions. She’d planned to run errands while Jack introduced the twins to their grandmother. Until she’d witnessed his struggle getting the twins in and out of the truck, then stayed with him while they all endured their first visit with their new pediatrician. The doctor and her staff were excellent. Laramie and Jack were the problem—they had no idea how to cope with two fussy babies in an enclosed space.

  Jack’s pleading gaze and the look of sheer defeat on his face was all it took to convince her to meet him at his mom’s place. Was she really that easily swayed? One pathetic glance from those incredible blue eyes and she completely blew off her plans? The realization nipped at her, like one of Trixie’s puppies nipping at her fingers. But her errands could wait. The babies needed her. Besides, she’d already agreed to help him.

  She circled around to the opposite side of his truck and maneuvered Charlotte’s car seat from its base. The baby rewarded her with a smile that made Laramie’s heart expand. Jack’s girls were adorable. At least he had that working in his favor.

  “What did your mom say when you told her about the twins?”

  Jack shouldered the diaper bag and strode up the driveway with Macey’s car seat in his hand. He didn’t answer her.

  Oh no. “Jack? You told her about Charlotte and Macey, right?”

  He kept walking, the car seat bumping against his leg. “Becoming a father like this isn’t something I can tell her about over the phone.”

  Laramie glared at his back. Was he joking? “So she’s going to find out right now?”

  “Yep.”

  Laramie followed him up the steps while her stomach coiled in a tight knot. Poor Mrs. Tomlinson. Laramie wanted to jump in front of Jack and beg him to let her go in alone and prep his mom somehow. She was a strong woman, but news like this was a lot to absorb. Before Laramie could say a word, the front door opened, and Mrs. Tomlinson greeted them.

  “Hi, sweetie.” Her smile faltered as her gaze slid from Jack to the car seats and then to Laramie.

  “Hi, Laramie.”

  She wished she could vanish into the porch. This was so awkward. All she could manage was a pathetic wave.

  Mrs. Tomlinson’s eyes toggled between the babies in the car seats. “Jack, what’s going on?”

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet my daughters, Macey and Charlotte.”

  “Your what?” Her complexion paled and her fingers trembled as she pressed her palms to her cheeks.

  “It’s a complicated story.” Jack cleared his throat. “Can we come in? The babies need to eat.”

  Laramie snuck a glance at Jack, then winced at the pain etched on his face. Please, please let us in. She silently willed Mrs. Tomlinson to see past her own heartache and confusion and let them inside. Not just because it was time for the girls to drink their bottles, but because she also knew Jack needed his mother to hear him out. In his heart, he wanted to do what was right and hated to disappoint his family any more than he already had.

  “Come on in.” Mrs. Tomlinson stepped back and opened the door wider.

  Thank You, Lord. Laramie silently offered the brief prayer as she trailed Jack inside. Mrs. Tomlinson swiped at the tears dampening her cheeks. Laramie’s throat ached and she gave Mrs. Tomlinson’s forearm a gentle squeeze. Although they’d all weathered the unexpected storm of baby Connor’s mother abandoning him and celebrated when he found a permanent home with Skye and Gage, this was a much different scenario.

  The aroma of an apple pie baking in the oven enveloped them and Laramie set the car seat in front of the familiar sofa where she’d spent countless hours over the years.

  “I’ll make the bottles.” She stretched out her hand to take the diaper bag from Jack.

  “No, that’s okay. You don’t—”

  Laramie shot him a pointed look. “You and your mom need to...catch up. I’ll change their diapers and get the bottles ready.”

  Jack relented and surrendered the diaper bag.

  The modest rambler didn’t offer too many places for her to go where she couldn’t overhear their conversation, but she was determined to give Jack and his mom a few minutes alone.

  While she mixed the formula in the bottles in Mrs. Tomlinson’s kitchen, she glanced out the window at the backyard where the family often gathered. As Skye’s best friend, Laramie had spent plenty of time in that yard. Now her imagination quickly sprinted ahead and offered images of her and Jack here together with the girls. Preschool-sized versions of Charlotte and Macey squabbling over who had the next turn on the rope swing suspended from the tree in the far corner. Laramie and Jack sitting in the chairs circled around the patio, while Gage or Drew grilled hamburgers and hot dogs for the whole family and the girls chased each other across the grassy lawn.

  Stop being ridiculous. Disappointment snuffed out the happy thoughts and she quickly turned away from the window. Jack wasn’t interested in her romantically. He only cared about the utilitarian role she played right now. She was foolish to get her hopes up that his feelings might change just because she knew how to change diapers and fix bottles. He even planned to move away as soon as he could. The only thing Jack wanted was a nanny.

  * * *

  This was hard. A million times harder than confessing he’d shoplifted the candy bar from the grocery store in town when he was eight. Harder than sneaking in past curfew his senior year and finding his mother waiting for him in that same chair. Harder than carrying his uncle and his father’s caskets at their funerals.

  His mother’s tears wrecked him.

  He should’ve listened to Laramie and told his mom about the twins before today.

  Jack rubbed his clammy palms against the fabric of his cargo shorts and forced himself to meet his mother’s troubled gaze.

  “I never meant for this to happen.” He winced, realizing how many times those same stupid words had left his lips. “The truth is, I was only thinking of myself. This is just another disappointment in a long string of mistakes and poor choices I’ve made. I’m sorry and I’m going to do what’s right.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Her expression crumpled and she reached for another tissue from the box on the coffee table between them.

  Laramie strode into the room with Macey wedged on her hip and a warm bottle in her other hand. Macey was puffing out little gasps, reaching for the bottle with both hands and kicking her chubby leg against Laramie’s hip.

  “Hold on, sweet girl.” Laramie stopped next to the coffee table, uncertainty flashing in her eyes as her gaze swung between him and his mother. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a hungry baby here. I still need to change Charlotte, too. Mrs. T., would you like to feed Macey?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if—”

  Laramie silenced the protest by depositing Macey in Jack’s mom’s lap. “Here you go. I’ll bring you a burp cloth in a minute.”

  Jack smothered a smile with his hand. He was beyond grateful for Laramie. This whole day would’ve been a disaster if he’d tried to fly solo. As she lifted a fussy Charlotte from her car seat and carried her out of the room, Jack couldn’t help but stare after her. Taking care of people came as naturally a
s breathing for Laramie. Especially his girls. How was he ever going to find someone trustworthy, someone so attentive, when he moved?

  “How long is Laramie helping you?”

  Jack didn’t miss the unspoken message underlying his mother’s question. She knew he needed a truckload of help. But did she also suspect his feelings toward Laramie were changing? He’d need to keep that a secret, too. Although staring after her all doe-eyed was a great way to blow his cover.

  “She’s agreed to help me until she takes her team to volleyball camp. That starts July 15.”

  “Wow, that’s very generous.” His mom gently cradled Macey and tilted the bottle for her. Macey stared up at her grandmother, both hands gripping the plastic bottle while she drank noisily. She didn’t seem to care who was holding her, as long as there was food involved.

  “You know, Laramie’s grandparents are struggling. You need to make sure she has plenty of time to take care of her own family, too.”

  Jack frowned. She had mentioned something about her grandparents. The last several days had been a blur, but snippets of their conversation from when he’d gone to visit the puppies at her house replayed in his mind.

  “Yeah, of course. She can take whatever time she needs.” He rubbed his fingertips along his stubbly jaw. Guilt pinched at his insides. Those words didn’t exactly line up with how he’d behaved. He said she could do what she needed to do, but in reality, he’d monopolized all her free time. And hadn’t bothered to pay attention to what really mattered most in her world—her family. Man, he was a real idiot sometimes. Maybe most of the time.

  He’d have to do better. He would do better. Starting today.

  Laramie came back into the room, Charlotte’s cries echoing through the small house.

  “Here, why don’t you let me feed her and you can go on home?”

  Confusion flashed in Laramie’s eyes as she sat beside him on the sofa and offered Charlotte her bottle. “What? Why?”

  “You’ve helped me a lot. Probably way too much. Don’t you have things you want to do?”

  Laramie’s gaze swiveled toward his mom, then back to him. “Well, yeah, but I said I’d help you and—”

  “I’ve got this.” He held out his arms and Laramie hesitated before handing Charlotte over. He caught a familiar trace of Laramie’s sweet floral perfume as she stood. Charlotte squirmed in his arms and he instantly regretted offering to take care of the girls on his own.

  Laramie cast him one last doubtful look. “If you’re sure...”

  “Perfectly sure.” Sort of. He forced a confident smile while Charlotte cried and pushed the bottle away.

  “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Laramie said, one hand on the doorknob as she glanced at Jack again. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.” Jack tilted his head toward the door. “Go on.”

  “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  Jack nodded, resisting the temptation to tell her he’d already changed his mind. After the door closed behind her, he sagged against the sofa cushions and blew out a long breath. Charlotte stared up at him, pitiful tears trailing down her pink cheeks.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” his mother asked.

  Jack frowned at her amused expression. “It’s going to be another long night.”

  Mom chuckled. “I think you’re right about that. And I hate to kick you while you’re down, but I’m not going to be able to help you, either. I’ve got a date.”

  It’s a good thing he was sitting down. “A what?”

  “A date.” Mom’s expression glowed. “I met a nice man from Denver and he’s taking me out for dinner tonight.”

  A date? A sour taste coated the back of Jack’s throat. Did Skye and Drew know? Was Jack supposed to meet this guy?

  “Good for you.” Jack kept his focus on Charlotte, who’d settled down and changed her mind about drinking her bottle. He didn’t want to hurt his mom’s feelings, but he so wasn’t ready to think about his mom seeing someone romantically.

  “I guess we both had surprising news to share, didn’t we?”

  “I’m definitely surprised.” Jack’s words fell flat. He wanted to be happy for her. Really, he did. Even though three years had passed, he still wasn’t over his father’s death. Her news was another reminder of all they’d lost. Would he ever outrun the heartache?

  * * *

  “Grandma? Grandpa?” Laramie let herself into her grandparents’ farmhouse and closed the door. “It’s me.”

  The television blared from the family room toward the back of the house and the scuffed floorboards creaked under her sandals as she strode from the front hall into the kitchen.

  “Hi, sweetie.” Grandma stood at the yellow Formica counter, wearing a blue gingham blouse, white shorts and white sandals. Her silver hair was twisted into her trademark bun and she’d even put on a little bit of makeup, but the worry lingering in her gaze and her rounded shoulders confirmed Laramie’s worst fears. Caring for Grandpa was wearing her grandmother out.

  “Hi, Grandma.” Laramie pressed a quick kiss to her soft cheek. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you.” Grandma shrugged self-consciously. “It’s just the gals I quilt with, but I felt like wearing lip gloss and a new blouse.”

  “Good for you.” Laramie smiled. “I’m glad you can get together with your friends tonight.”

  “Me, too.” Her smile wobbled. “I don’t get to quilt too much anymore.”

  Laramie’s heart ached for all her grandmother had given up to care for Grandpa. After decades of hard work and running the family farm they’d inherited, it was a shame her grandparents had to wrestle with Grandpa’s dementia now that they finally had retired from farming.

  Grandma tucked her wallet inside her purse, then hoisted her tote bag onto her shoulder. “Thank you for staying with your grandfather. I was so tickled when you called and offered.”

  “You’re welcome.” Laramie patted her arm. “Don’t worry about a thing. Grandpa and I will be just fine.”

  “I know you will.” Grandma hummed softly as she picked up a disposable container full of cookies. “He gets anxious when I leave, so I’m going to sneak out without saying goodbye.”

  Oh. Laramie’s stomach tightened. What exactly did she mean by anxious? “Um, all right. Have fun.”

  “I’ll be home by nine,” Grandma whispered and slipped out the back door.

  Laramie quickly scanned the counter for any notes or instructions. The dishwasher was running already. Knowing Grandma, she’d already fed Grandpa and cleaned up before Laramie arrived. She hadn’t planned on spending the evening here, but her mother had asked her to because she knew how much Grandma wanted to go to her quilting group.

  Besides, helping her grandparents tonight kept her from hopping back in her car and driving straight to Jack’s place. Macey and Charlotte had occupied so much of her time and attention lately. She felt strange not being with them.

  Oh, brother. She’d have to get over that, because leaving Jack and the twins alone for the evening was best for all of them. At least that was what she kept telling herself. Jack was a single dad now. He needed to get used to being responsible for the girls on his own.

  Since dinner was taken care of and Grandma had managed to leave without Grandpa noticing, Laramie joined him in the family room. He sat in his faded green recliner, wearing his favorite Colorado Rockies T-shirt, black shorts and slippers.

  Laramie’s steps faltered when she saw the angry bull bucking his rider into the dirt on television. Great. The last thing she wanted was to watch bull riding, but if he got anxious when her grandmother was away, there was no reason to challenge his entertainment choices.

  “Hey, Grandpa.” Laramie sank to the floor beside his chair and patted his forearm. “What are you watching?”

  His he
ad swiveled slowly and his green eyes, which used to gleam like he’d just finished laughing at a good joke, narrowed into an icy, suspicious glare.

  “Who are you?”

  His harsh tone stung. “Grandpa, it’s me. Laramie.”

  His leathery features puckered. “Like the town in Wyoming?”

  She managed a nod, her throat thick with emotion. He knew the whole story about how her parents met and promised to name their firstborn after the town where they’d fallen in love. Grandpa had heard it dozens of times. How could he not remember? And how could he not remember her?

  “Huh.” He grunted. “Don’t reckon I know anyone named Laramie.”

  He pointed a gnarled finger toward the television. “I’m watching my grandson. He’s a world champion bull rider. Ever heard of him?”

  Laramie gritted her teeth and forced herself to look. Oh, yes. She knew her brother well. How he traveled the country, winning almost every competition he entered. Landon Chambers was the pride of Merritt’s Crossing. How ironic that Grandpa had no trouble recognizing her brother, even though she couldn’t recall the last time Landon had bothered to grace them with his presence. Even her aunt, uncle and cousins in Nebraska managed to get away from their busy lives on their own farm to visit a few times a year.

  Thankfully, Grandpa didn’t seem too concerned if she answered his question about Landon. Another bull rider entered the chute, preparing for the gate to open, and Landon wasn’t slated to ride for a few more minutes.

  She stood and pulled her phone from her shorts pocket. Her fingers pecked out a text message to Jack, but she hesitated before sending it. What was she doing? Checking up on him? Making sure he could handle an evening alone with his daughters? Laramie erased the message and put her phone away.

  Instead of sitting in her grandmother’s recliner beside Grandpa’s and watching a competition she didn’t care about, she crossed the small room and surveyed the framed photos filling the wall. Her grandparents’ wedding portrait hung in the center, with dozens of other photos fanning out in opposite directions. Birthdays, graduations and harvest celebrations all documented a life well lived. Laramie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Dementia was a cruel robber, snatching away bits and pieces of the grandfather she’d always known and loved. She had to find a way to help him get the care he needed, before Grandma endangered her own health, too.