The Surprise Triplets

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I can’t win against a houseful of women.” Lucky arose with the comics section and his coffee. “I’ll be in my room.”

  “Enjoy.” Since he had the downstairs suite, with a private bath and a small enclosed sunroom, Melissa had no compunctions about chasing him away.

  Karen strolled in, mug in hand. She wore a crisp lavender blouse over a long gray skirt, and had coiled her thick auburn hair atop her head. “Ah, you’re dressed. I was going to offer you the use of my tub.” She occupied the master suite, which had a private bath.

  “Thanks, but I woke early.” Melissa had showered and thrown on jeans and a short-sleeved cotton sweater. “Figured I’d finish in the bathroom before Zora got up.”

  “These are my favorite.” Karen transferred a muffin to her plate. “Listen, I know it’ll be tricky once Rod moves in, sharing a bathroom and all. You can use mine whenever there’s a crunch.”

  “Will do.”

  “He’s coming over this morning.” Karen’s grin made her appear younger than her forty-two years. “We’re switching Rod’s stuff with Anya’s as a welcome-home present for the honeymooners.”

  “You’re putting her stuff in Jack’s apartment while she’s out of town?” Melissa wasn’t sure she would appreciate someone else handling her property without permission. Still, it would save Anya and Jack the trouble.

  “Anya’s already packed the personal items,” Karen pointed out. “And Rod gets lonely, rattling around in that apartment by himself.”

  “He’s here for dinner nearly every night.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  While Melissa wasn’t crazy about adjusting to another man on the premises, she enjoyed Rod’s sense of humor, and as Edmond had noted, having a physician down the hall might be valuable. “He’s excellent company. Jack claims his uncle can’t cook worth a darn, though. Are you sure the main attraction for him isn’t the meals?”

  Karen laughed. “Partly, no doubt. But he helps pay for the food and does the dishes without being nagged.”

  “What more could one ask for?”

  “Precisely.”

  When her friend picked up the entertainment section, Melissa resumed reading the newspaper. A few pages later, a headline leaped out at her: “Driver to Be Sentenced in Street Fair Robbery.” An unflattering photo showed Barbara Everhart, her hair pulled back and her expression grim.

  Most of the details in the article were familiar, but Edmond hadn’t mentioned that the setting had been a street fair or that there’d been three robbery victims, all vendors. Simon Greeley, the alleged robber, had traded gunfire with a police officer and suffered fatal wounds. No one else was hit, almost a miracle in such a crowded venue.

  How did a sweet sixteen-year-old girl get mixed up with that awful man?

  Of course, Barb wasn’t sixteen anymore. The article listed her age as twenty-four; in the photo, she looked older. There was no mention of her daughter.

  Melissa lowered the paper. How strange that Edmond, the last man on earth to become a father, had accepted guardianship of his niece. Was it mostly from a sense of duty, or had he truly bonded with the child?

  Meeting Dawn again yesterday had reminded Melissa that, in her heart, she was still the little girl’s aunt. Divorces might divide a couple, but they didn’t necessarily sever emotional connections to other family members.

  The doorbell rang. “That’ll be Rod.” Karen rose and cut through the den.

  Melissa glanced at the muffin platter. Four remained. She doubted they’d last long with Rod on the premises, not that she’d planned to save any.

  From the front, she heard Rod’s light tenor voice say, “Guess who I found casing the joint.”

  “Just remedying a mistake,” came a deeper male response. “I forgot to send a wedding present, so I’m dropping this off.”

  Melissa’s pulse sped up. She hadn’t expected to run into Edmond again so soon. Swallowing, she chided herself for overreacting.

  Yesterday, they’d sniped at each other. She regretted her testy remark about uncaring fathers, since her situation had nothing to do with Edmond. But his crack about not knowing herself had hit painfully close to home. Much as she treasured the triplets, she’d never expected to raise three babies by herself.

  She realized now that what she’d longed for was a family with kids and a husband to love and care for. But she’d fallen for the wrong man, and then she’d chosen a path that led away from him. If only she’d known her own mind sooner...

  Then what? Sometimes you don’t know your own mind now. Or, as she’d concluded before, perhaps she simply couldn’t have everything.

  The quiet den filled with people as Lucky emerged from his lair. Amid the exchange of greetings, Melissa caught Edmond’s gaze.

  She managed a simple, “Hi.”

  With a nod, he set down a wrapped box bearing the logo of Kitchens, Cooks and Linens, the store where Anya had her bridal registry. “Those muffins smell fantastic. They remind me of Italy.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  “I’m amazed you can smell anything after that whiff out front.” Rod, wearing a deerstalker hat worthy of Sherlock Holmes, grimaced. “I may have to have my olfactory nerves removed.”

  “I’ve smelled worse,” Lucky said.

  “Really? Where?” Rod demanded.

  “Accident scenes. I used to drive an ambulance.”

  Melissa didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. She was too busy trying to remain relaxed as Edmond approached. “You could have mailed the gift,” she observed.

  The light reflected on his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “I had an ulterior motive,” he said. “To apologize for being so rough on you yesterday.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I pushed you,” she conceded. Now let’s change the subject. “It was good to see Dawn.”

  He shifted closer. “Being around you meant more to her than I expected.”

  “She means a lot to me, too,” she replied honestly.

  Rod brushed past them to snare a muffin. “Great! An energy boost.”

  Edmond took one, also. After the first taste, he released an appreciative sigh. “These are just like the muffins in Sorrento.”

  “Close.” Melissa still believed her version lacked something—perhaps the taste of the local water.

  “Sorrento. Is that in Mexico?” Impossible to tell if Rod was kidding. “So, Ed, you’re helping us move the bride’s stuff, right?”

  “Uh...”

  “Right this way.”

  As Rod shepherded Edmond to the stairs, Melissa released her grip on the newspaper and smoothed the crumpled page.

  When Edmond tasted the muffins, he’d remembered one of their happiest times together, just as she had. If only...

  If only they could travel and simply be a couple? But she couldn’t lead that alternate life of her imaginings. Wisps of memory were no substitute for planning a future together.

  And there was no way they could have a future.

  * * *

  IT SERVED HIM right to be drafted into hard labor, Edmond reflected as he backed down the stairs, supporting one end of Anya’s desk. He’d had no business intruding on Melissa’s Sunday.

  Embarrassed at forgetting to bring a gift to the wedding, he truly had meant to drop it off and leave. But the scent and taste of those muffins had given him pause. Melissa’s choice of recipe indicated that she, too, cherished the memory of their trip. That didn’t necessarily imply she cherished him, though—the barrier between them loomed larger than ever, literally. So why couldn’t he stay away?

  After the divorce, Edmond had tried dating others. None of them had measured up, and this year he’d been ab
sorbed in his family’s troubles. Now he wondered if that was the only thing preventing him from finding a new relationship.

  He and Lucky eased the desk down the front porch steps. The estuary smell didn’t bother Edmond as much today. He supposed one could get used to it.

  “Interesting how Rod left the heavy lifting to us,” Lucky observed as they carted the desk toward a rental van in the gravel parking area.

  “Is that typical of him?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call him lazy.” Lucky’s amused tone indicated that he liked his new housemate. “But he does have a knack for arranging matters to suit his convenience.”

  “I’m surprised an anesthesiologist hasn’t bought his own house by now.” Edmond would love to do that, but he’d only recently paid off his educational loans.

  “He spent all his money fighting for custody of his daughters, the two little flower girls at the wedding.” Lucky led the way in maneuvering the desk up the ramp. “And lost to Portia and Vince Adams.”

  “As their father, Rod has rights.” Edmond hefted his end of the desk.

  “He found out six years ago during the divorce that Portia had cheated on him and the girls weren’t genetically his, even though he’d raised them as his own.” Lucky shook his head. “They aren’t Vince’s, either, but he’s rich enough to afford the best representation, if you consider scummy bottom-feeders the best. Sorry, I don’t mean to speak ill of lawyers. Well, maybe I do, but I’m sure you’re an exception.”

  “I hope so.” Edmond had heard his share of lawyer jokes, along the lines of Why don’t sharks bite attorneys? Professional courtesy. He chose not to take the cracks personally.

  As for Rod, under California law, he was the children’s father regardless of genetics, since he’d been married to their mother when they were born. However, a guy as rich and reputedly unscrupulous as Vince could grind an opponent into the dust with one courtroom tactic after another.

  “I try to avoid contentious cases,” he said. “My preference is for both sides to reach a compromise.”

  “Are people really willing to do that where children and divorces are concerned?”

  “Not always.” Edmond understood Lucky’s skepticism. “But if they can move past their initial insistence on winning, most prefer to do what’s in the best interests of the child. They can also save themselves money and stress.”

  With the desk stowed, he brushed off his hands and descended the ramp. On the driveway, Lucky stretched. “Let’s hope Melissa won’t be requiring your services.”

  What a strange remark. “Which services?”

  The other man laughed. “As an attorney.”

  “Why would she?”

  “The embryos.”

  Usually, Edmond was quick to grasp people’s meanings, but not in this case. “She said there’s no father involved. Since I assume the sperm donor signed a release, I don’t understand why she’d require legal counsel.”

  “You haven’t heard the story?” Lifting a hand, Lucky shaded his eyes against the midday glare. “She didn’t use a sperm donor.”

  Surely Melissa hadn’t been rash enough to involve a man simply on the promise that he’d stay out of the picture. “Who’s the father, then?”

  “The father and the mother are clients who donated their unused embryos.” Lucky glanced toward the house. “I’m sure they signed off on the whole thing, but people can be unpredictable.”

  “The babies aren’t hers?” That was an inaccurate assessment, Edmond realized as soon as he said it. “Genetically, I mean.”

  “You got it.”

  She was carrying babies that weren’t related to her. Edmond assumed she felt a strong attachment, yet many women served as surrogates and willingly relinquished the infants. Not that he expected Melissa to do any such thing.

  The more he learned, the less he understood her. When he’d moved to Safe Harbor, he’d hoped he might finally grasp what had gone wrong between them and possibly how to fix it. Instead, the picture kept getting muddier.

  Yet hadn’t he cherished their differences during their marriage? She’d been his refuge when he felt overwhelmed, and he’d been her strength when her world had fallen apart after her parents’ deaths.

  When she’d brought up the idea of becoming parents, he wished now that he’d listened to her rather than reacting the way he had. But ultimately, they’d still have stood on opposite sides of a great divide.

  The front door opened. Karen emerged, toting a couple of suitcases. Behind her, Rod hefted a box, grimacing as if about to collapse beneath its weight. Either it contained heavy books or he was milking the situation.

  Preoccupied by what Lucky had revealed about the embryos, Edmond was in no mood to stick around for polite chitchat, with them or with Melissa. After a brief farewell, he went to his car.

  As for the triplets, Melissa ought to be safe from a legal perspective. And surely she loved these children. Still, these babies were the blood kin of another couple, a mom and a dad. They’d presumably borne other children, so what were the implications for Melissa of raising triplets who had full siblings living nearby?

  Embryo donation wasn’t as regulated as adoption or surrogacy. In many respects, the legal status of embryos remained unsettled, but their transfer was governed by contract law as if they were property.

  This discovery changed nothing between him and Melissa. So why did he feel sucker-punched?

  Chapter Six

  “You can’t be serious!” On the examining table, Melissa tugged the ridiculously small hospital gown around her protruding abdomen. It still failed to close. “I thought I was doing well.”

  “You are.” Dr. Zack Sargent appeared surprised by her outburst. “I didn’t say you have to go on bed rest right now. But in a couple more weeks, we should consider it.”

  With an effort, Melissa curbed her irritation. Her obstetrician cared about her. Zack had worked her into his Monday schedule to give her an extra checkup due to the increased risks of her pregnancy.

  “My only symptoms are dry skin and trouble getting comfortable in bed,” she reminded him in a calmer tone. “You said I’m in great shape for eighteen weeks.”

  “That’s true.” Zack regarded his computer terminal. An earnest man in his mid-thirties, he was the driving force behind the hospital’s grant program for financially strapped clients. He was also married to Melissa’s boss, Jan. “Blood pressure, weight gain, glucose levels, babies’ heartbeats—everything’s normal. Impressive, actually. But keeping you all healthy until delivery will be a balancing act.”

  “Surely lying around for months can cause problems, too.” The prospect dismayed Melissa. She had too many responsibilities at work.

  “Lack of activity can raise the risk of blood clots and decrease bone mass, which is why I don’t recommend complete bed rest unless absolutely necessary,” he said. “However, bed rest can mean simply staying home and doing less than usual. I’m also concerned about you operating a car as you get bigger.”

  “Karen offered to give me a ride to and from work whenever I’m ready to stop driving.” Melissa was grateful for her generous friend. “And my housemates said they’d pick up groceries for me. I don’t need them to do any of that yet, but I’ll accept it as soon as I do.”

  “Good,” Zack said. “Pay attention to what your body’s telling you.”

  “It’s telling me that staying home would drive me crazy.” Aware of how much he cared about the fertility program, she noted, “And it’s not as if Jan can throw a temp into my position.”

  From the doctor’s expression, she saw that her point had registered. “Talk to her about working remotely,” he advised. “There’s no reason you can’t keep up with your email and meet with clients from home.”

  “I can come into the office as long as I f
eel okay, though, right?” Melissa pressed. “I’ll put my feet up. And it should be easier for you to monitor me here at the hospital than at home.”

  Zack typed a note into the computer. “All true. But don’t forget, there’s a sixty percent chance that multiple babies will be born prematurely, plus your entire body is under stress. It’s working hard even when you’re resting.”

  Melissa closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. “I know that pregnancy is temporary and well worth the trouble. That doesn’t make this easy.”

  “Of course not.”

  If she were married, things would be different, she reflected. Despite the assurances of her friends, the hospital’s paid maternity leave and the staff day-care center, she experienced moments of panic about how she would cope with three babies.

  If only Edmond... But that was ridiculous. He had problems of his own, and his attitude toward fatherhood hadn’t changed. Also, his departure yesterday without saying goodbye puzzled her.

  “Continue eating well and exercising mildly, as you’ve been doing,” Zack concluded.

  “I will.” Melissa enjoyed the gentle stretching exercises she performed every morning.

  “Any questions?”

  She shook her head.

  “I have one.” He smiled. “Have you chosen their names?”

  “People keep asking me that, but no.” She wasn’t ready. Besides, the only names in Melissa’s mind today were Dawn and Barbara, whose sentencing was scheduled for this afternoon.

  “Something wrong?” Zack asked.

  “Nothing we haven’t covered.” It wasn’t her place to discuss Edmond’s family problems.

  He assisted her off the table. “Let’s schedule you for another appointment in a week. Sooner if you experience problems.”

  “You bet.” Regretting her earlier sharpness with him, Melissa added, “I appreciate your working me in this way.”

  “Glad to do it.”

  As she dressed, she was glad she wouldn’t have to face house confinement just yet, especially when she wanted to be there for her niece. Well, with luck she had a few weeks to spare. And perhaps the sentencing wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.