Twin Surprise

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Until Marta’s pregnancy, Derek might not have understood. Now he pictured these two towering figures as uncertain kids. “Did you consider giving me up?”

  Tearfully, she conceded that they had. “In the end, I couldn’t let you go. Dad came around, but I had to drop out of school. When you were two, I returned to school and he started clerking for a judge. We rarely got enough sleep, and we fought constantly. We even separated for a few weeks.”

  “Why did you get back together?” he asked.

  “We missed each other.”

  He’d had no idea. “You should have told me.”

  “You were a baby! Later, we assumed we’d put everything behind us.” She swallowed. “That our tensions affected you didn’t occur to me. People used to say children are resilient. Maybe, but they’re highly sensitive to emotion, negative as well as positive.”

  “Yet you had two more,” he pointed out.

  “Once I finished law school and Andy started earning decent money, things got better. We decided to complete our family with one more. Tom was an easy baby and your dad longed for a daughter.”

  “You wound up with two little sweethearts and one curmudgeon.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness.

  “Two compliant children and one with a forceful temperament.” Lainie laid her hand on his arm. “Derek, I admire you tremendously. You have such strength and integrity. The qualities that drove me crazy in a toddler stand you in good stead as an adult. If I had to depend on one of my children in a crisis, I’d choose you.”

  He scarcely believed he’d heard correctly. “I don’t deserve that. I’ve been nursing my adolescent resentment far too long.”

  “You have a right to be resentful. We should have seen a counselor, as my parents urged. Instead, when you erupted, we bailed out and sent you away.” Lainie wiped a tear from her cheek. “A classmate of yours told me years later that you were fighting a bully that day to protect a younger child. When it happened, we simply accepted the school’s description of you as a troublemaker. Derek, I’m terribly sorry.”

  She must have bottled up these regrets for ages. Like him, she hadn’t known how to breach the gap.

  From deep in memory drifted a comment Dr. Wrigley had made during her sessions with Derek. Children who don’t feel loved come to believe they’re not lovable. They think they’re flawed.

  His mother’s words quickly followed. If I had to depend on one of my children in a crisis, I’d choose you. He couldn’t imagine a stronger declaration of love.

  “Thank you for telling me this.” Derek met her halfway for a big hug, an all-enveloping embrace instead of their usual tentative pat. “I love you, Mom.” His throat clogged.

  “Be happy, son,” she said. “That’s all I ask.”

  Now he had to figure out how to do that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marta tried in vain to read Derek’s expression on the drive back to Villazon. He’d been in a thoughtful mood since he and his mother disappeared into the kitchen. She gathered that he’d disclosed his illness, and had noticed a new rapport between the two of them.

  His family had been warmer than she’d expected, and the memory of his sister’s baby made her heart contract. Those people loved Derek, even if they didn’t know how to reach him.

  Right now, he remained lost in reflection. Marta chose not to intrude.

  Rachel and her pediatrician husband lived at the end of a cul-de-sac in the Amber View development, on the east side of Villazon. Their front porch blazed with holiday lights.

  When Russ welcomed them, they found about a dozen friends gathered in the living room. At a freestanding, carnival-style popcorn maker that scented the air deliciously, Rachel was filling yellow-and-red striped bags for the kids.

  Greetings flew. As Marta returned them, she scanned the guests: Connie and Hale, Elise and Mike, detective Jorge Alvarez, Mark Rohan and Rosa Mercato—wearing an engagement ring—and Joel Simmons. No sign of Tracy. A large-screen TV showed a scene of snow falling across a woodland. That was as close as Southern Californians came to enjoying a white Christmas.

  The chatter had died with their entrance. Connie broke the lull. “My mom says your cheapskate father bought you a bathrobe. I hope it has solid-gold buttons.”

  Marta settled onto the couch with a cup of hot apple cider. “It’s a fresh beginning.”

  “Yeah, you can bet on Christmas to turn us all lovey-dovey,” Joel grumbled.

  Although Derek’s forehead furrowed, he didn’t reply. The others also let the comment slide.

  The conversation ranged across topics from football games to, inevitably, Frank Ferguson’s angry departure the previous day. “I’m sorry I missed it,” Elise said. “He should have waited until shift change so more of us could hear.”

  “Yeah, and it was pretty thoughtless of the chief to duke it out with Ben during lunch hour,” Hale joked. “A guy doesn’t dare even leave for a sandwich. You don’t know what you’re going to miss.”

  Derek chuckled. Across from him, Joel looked away. But amid the ripple of laughter, Marta believed that humor had defused any tension. That is, until Mike innocently asked how the captain’s position would be filled.

  “Oh, they might pick one of us lieutenants, or just hand it to a bootlicker like Reed,” Joel answered.

  “Give it a rest!” Connie snapped.

  Her ex-husband showed no sign of complying. “He shouldn’t mind. He’s been angling for a promotion for the past year.”

  “I didn’t ask to be community relations director,” Derek replied quietly.

  “You love it over there, kissing up to the chief. What happened to the guy who used to swear he’d never leave the field except in a pine box?” Joel demanded.

  Sensing what came next, Marta gripped her cup tightly. Sure enough: “He got Parkinson’s disease,” Derek said.

  In the abrupt silence, the children’s voices echoed from down the hall. Playing a board game, Marta gathered.

  “That’s why the chief tapped you?” Hale asked at last.

  Derek gave a short nod.

  “Oh, hell.” Joel sounded disgusted, this time no doubt with himself. “I’ve been mad at Tracy for what she did to us, and I took it out on you. Sorry, man.”

  “Apology accepted.” Whatever Derek might have added was cut short when his phone rang. He excused himself to answer.

  Marta watched his expression shift into duty mode. “Where?…Has anyone issued a statement?…I’m on it.”

  He clicked off. “There’s been an explosion. I have to go deal with the media.”

  A chorus of questions greeted this disclosure. He responded that he had little information beyond the locale: Frank Ferguson’s house.

  That generated even more inquiries. He had no answers. “Watch the news channels. I’m sure you’ll get a glimpse of my mug soon enough.”

  “We’ll take Marta home,” Connie volunteered.

  “Thanks.” Derek caught Marta’s eye. “Walk me out?”

  “Sure.”

  She accompanied him to the sidewalk. “Sorry I have to split.” He lowered his head until their foreheads touched.

  “I understand.”

  “Save New Year’s Eve for me, will you?” he murmured.

  “Of course.” Marta sighed as he brushed a kiss along her temple. “Congratulations on telling everyone the truth. They needed to hear it.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Well, we’ll talk later. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She cherished the endearment.

  Inside, the others pelted her with questions about Derek’s illness. She answered as best she could.

  “Nobody had a clue,” Rachel observed when they’d exhausted Marta’s knowledge. “Derek’s always been such a tough guy. The kind who could deal with anything.”

  “Almost anything,” she corrected.

  Russ changed the TV station. A camera crew in front of Frank’s home was running scenes of firefighters mopp
ing up. The blackened garage, stark in the glare of spotlights, bore a gaping hole.

  The group at Rachel’s house stuck around until Derek appeared and issued a statement outlining the course of events. Earlier, several neighbors had reported a blast. Suspended police captain Frank Ferguson had been found dead after a bomb he was building accidentally detonated.

  He’d left no indication of the bomb’s intended target.

  *

  Tracy Johnson waited until the other reporters left the scene, Derek noticed. This being a Tuesday and past her weekly deadline, she didn’t have to hurry.

  She walked beside him as he trudged toward his car. “He meant to kill the chief, didn’t he?”

  “That’s supposition,” Derek responded automatically.

  Despite his disgust with Ferguson, the man’s horrific death twisted in his gut. Such a waste of a human life. He also found it hard to accept that his former colleague had plotted Will’s murder.

  “He must have been insane,” Tracy said.

  Yeah, maybe, Derek thought.

  She stuck around while he unlocked the sedan. Something was troubling her, he gathered.

  “I have to respect my sources,” Tracy told him. “But I’m responsible for what I choose to print, too.”

  “Next time, question the motives,” he responded. “They matter. And they may guide you to a bigger story.”

  “I sure missed this one.” Tracy tightened the belt on her red-and-green holiday-themed sweater. She must have been pulled from a celebration, too. “Joel underestimates you, Derek. You’re not just a pretty face.”

  “All compliments gratefully accepted.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She headed off, a solitary figure in the night.

  He returned home, eager for a peaceful refuge. Tonight, though, the bare surfaces and neutral colors of the condo lost their appeal.

  The condo needed updating. Next weekend, he’d see what he could do.

  *

  Marta missed spending at least part of the following weekend with Derek. He had to help his sister with a project, he explained.

  He kept busy at work during the week, too. The press descended daily for its fix of Frank-related scandals, she saw on the newscasts, as tales emerged of gambling debts, an ex-girlfriend threatening to bring abuse charges and a rambling pseudonymous blog that described the intention of destroying an enemy called “The Bogus Chief” with a car bomb.

  His mental problems appeared to have kicked into high gear when Vince Borrego was forced to retire. Frank had assumed the position of chief belonged to him by right. As his personality disintegrated, he’d blamed all his problems on the man he insisted had cheated him.

  In a positive development, Chief Lyons and his son reconciled. “It never occurred to me someone might try to kill my dad,” Ben told an on-air interviewer. “I’d be lost without him.”

  Throughout the media frenzy, Derek’s low-key manner provided a refreshing contrast to all the hype. Marta only wished he could have accompanied her to a doctor’s appointment on Monday, when Dr. Bennett decided to perform a second ultrasound as a safeguard.

  All appeared well. This time the probe detected the babies’ gender—both male.

  Two boys. Two little Dereks. Marta ached to keep them so much she retreated to the ladies’ room and cried for several minutes.

  Then she washed her face and returned to her job, determined to maintain a cheerful façade. She refused to ruin this special New Year’s Eve.

  Derek collected her at seven. He looked, if possible, even handsomer than usual in a suit and dark shirt. “Would you mind if we swing by my place before dinner?” he asked. “I’d like your opinion on a new purchase.”

  “Okay.” In the car, although Marta longed to save her news for a more romantic moment, it burst through her restraint. “I had another ultrasound. They’re both boys.”

  “Is that for sure?”

  “Apparently.”

  Aside from a blink, Derek showed no further reaction as he steered into traffic. Her spirits sank. Subconsciously, she’d hoped the news might affect him as strongly as it had her.

  When they parked at his condo, memories rushed back—of that night before the auction, when she’d helped him prepare, and of their subsequent date, when tenderness had bloomed into a connection that would at some level bind them for the rest of their lives. Even if he refused to admit it.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek held the car door, waiting for her.

  Marta struggled to contain a coil of emotions. Words sticking in her throat, she simply climbed out.

  As they approached the entrance, Marta sought a light remark to disguise her feelings. Impossible. She loved him too much. They belonged with each other and with their children.

  She halted on the front porch. He reached past her with the key. “Let’s go in. You’ll catch a chill.”

  “I’m not cold.” Marta cleared her throat. “I have to say something.”

  Derek arched one eyebrow. “Here? We’re in full view of the street.”

  “Any reporters hanging around?” she asked.

  “No, thank heaven. Planning to take a swing at me?”

  “Not unless you tick me off.” Marta summoned her courage. Once they entered his turf, she might lose her nerve. “I’ve always believed I had a duty to make others comfortable and happy.”

  “At which you’ve succeeded,” Derek observed.

  “I also trained everyone, including myself, to ignore my needs. I refuse to do that anymore,” she said. “Listen up. If you don’t marry me and keep these babies, Derek Reed, you’re an idiot.”

  He stared at her. Then he asked dryly, “Is that a proposal?”

  “I suppose so.” Marta felt deflated. Was that the extent of his reaction?

  Derek unlocked the door. “Let’s continue this discussion inside.”

  When she entered, she gaped in surprise. The lights seemed brighter than she recalled, and the furniture had been shifted to clear space for a playpen. Safety netting covered the stair railing.

  “Is your sister moving in?” She hoped his weekend project hadn’t resulted from the breakup of Jill’s marriage.

  “No, although she did provide invaluable assistance,” Derek murmured close to Marta’s ear. “Let me show you the second floor.”

  In a daze, she let him guide her upward, past the window that overlooked glittering holiday decorations in the complex’s central court. They passed the office, which now held exercise equipment along with a desk.

  In the spare bedroom, the overhead dome illuminated a pair of cribs and a changing station, an animal-themed strip of wallpaper and matching curtains. “We settled on green and yellow. Too bad we didn’t know the gender,” he commented.

  “We might have a girl later,” Marta blurted, then blushed furiously.

  “You approve?” Derek asked.

  She parroted his earlier words. “Is that a proposal?”

  “Maybe we should draw straws to see which of us gets to say yes.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll go first. Yes.”

  “Yes,” Marta echoed.

  A sigh escaped, as if he was releasing years of pent-up tension. “You were right,” he said.

  She relaxed against him. “About what?”

  “I should have trusted my friends enough to tell them of my diagnosis. And you were right that I’m still a real cop, too. I did the department a greater service by using my brain that I ever did with my muscles.” He sank atop a sturdy toy chest and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Is this strong enough to hold us?” she asked.

  “Better be, because I suspect two little boys will be jumping up and down on it.”

  Sheer happiness enveloped her. Still, Marta remained practical. “How will we balance our careers and child rearing and all that?”

  His teeth flashed a brilliant white. “You can quit your job and attend school full-time if you’d like. Hale speaks very highly of Vince’s daughter’s home daycare
, and I’ll watch the kids at night and on weekends while you study or teach. With my current position, I actually have regular hours instead of rotating shifts. What do you think?”

  “That’s awesome,” she admitted. “You’ve devoted a lot of thought to this.” She’d never expected Sergeant Hit-and-Run to turn into the kind of husband and father who stuck around.

  He grew serious. “Marta, I can’t be sure what lies ahead. Physically, I mean. But the future doesn’t seem so frightening as long as we’re together.”

  As if anyone knew what the future held! She’d relinquished that illusion long ago. What mattered was the love they shared.

  “To me, no matter what, you’ll always remain the sexy man I fell in love with,” Marta told him. “You’re my best friend, too.”

  “Better than Connie and Rachel?” he teased.

  “Better than the whole world.”

  He kissed her and they snuggled for a while. Then they went out to celebrate the new year.

  The streets shone in the moonlight as they drove to the restaurant. Inside Marta, two little boys lay snug and safe.

  Someday, she thought, she would tell them about this night and how it felt like a fairy tale. Except that, with Derek, the magic was real.

  The End

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  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author Jacqueline Diamond is known for her romantic comedies, medical romances, Regency romances and mysteries—102 titles as of 2017. A former Associated Press reporter and TV columnist, Jackie currently writes the Safe Harbor Medical Mystery series, including The Case of the Questionable Quadruplet, The Case of the Surly Surrogate and, coming in early 2018, The Case of the Desperate Doctor.

  Jackie has been honored with a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award. A former national board member of Romance Writers of America, she is active in RWA’s Orange County Chapter.