Her Secret Twins

by Janette Foreman

  Kallie’s brows shot up, her thoughts derailing. “Are you serious? You don’t want your half?”

  Grant shrugged and for a second, it looked as if his thoughts warred behind his gaze. “I don’t know what I would do with it. I can’t keep it. I mean, you and me owning the same spread of land...” He trailed off, then seemed to gather his thoughts and head in a different direction. “It’s just not a good idea. You can understand that, right?”

  She straightened away from the counter. “I guess I can.”

  “Great. Glad that’s settled, then.”

  “Yeah, great.”

  Settled. Is that what they were?

  It sounded so cold, so final. But then, wasn’t that how their relationship was now? And thankfully, he hadn’t claimed his inheritance only to turn around and sell his half. She’d been afraid that would happen—because if anyone bought the land, it would have to be her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to afford to stay here, either. Not that she could afford this land if it went up for sale. Money was already tight, due to Dad’s medical bills and the loan he took out to pay for seeds this year. She still needed to sit down and calculate everything—his assets compared to his outstanding balance.

  Coffee mugs in hand, they lingered in silence. Kallie watched Grant as her heart squeezed. All their memories, a few triumphs and many regrets, floated between them. Present yet unacknowledged. Was she supposed to ignore them like they’d never mattered? She’d almost married this man.

  One thing was certain. No matter how quick this meeting went with Grant Young, it certainly wasn’t going to be painless.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Hello?” Rachel’s voice carried through the screen.

  Kallie’s heart dropped. She rushed to the door. Rachel stood there with a baby car seat carrier placed on either side of her on the porch.

  “Rachel,” she hissed, hoping Grant couldn’t hear her—though hiding was futile at this point. “You weren’t supposed to be here until seven.”

  “Seven?” Rachel’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! I thought you said by five.”

  Five? Dear Rachel Whethers had always been a little scatterbrained, but this was over the top even for her. “No, I need longer than that.” She heard Grant’s chair shift. “Please, Rach. Take them somewhere. Anywhere.”

  Concern crossed Rachel’s face, a slight breeze picking up strands of her dark hair. “What’s going on? You okay?”

  “That Rachel Gunsing I hear?” Grant appeared over Kallie’s shoulder.

  Rachel made eye contact through the screen, and suddenly understanding bloomed across her face. “Grant Young. Well, that’s a surprise I’d never expected.” She glanced at Kallie as if in question, and Kallie shook her head in response. Rachel turned back to Grant. “I’m actually Rachel Whethers now. Got married to Kyle eighteen months ago.”

  “That’s great, Rach.” He reached around Kallie for the door. “Why don’t you stop in and catch up?”

  Kallie’s heart rate tripped. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not necessary. She’s probably pretty busy—”

  Grant eyed her. “She drove the twenty minutes from town to stand on your doorstep for thirty seconds? I don’t think so.”

  “Actually, I do need to be going.” Apology slashed her friend’s gaze. “Kyle’s taking me out for my birthday tonight since I have to work on the actual day.”

  Just then, Peter began to cry, no doubt eager to get out of his seat.

  Kallie cringed. Grant glanced at the babies for the first time, and his brows rose. She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer for mercy.

  * * *

  Grant Young glanced between the two car seat carriers on the porch, then back up at Rachel Whethers. No doubt about it, things sure had changed in the span of two years. Last time he saw Rachel, they were all newly out of high school, and she’d been full of life and totally disinterested in settling down.

  And now it seemed she’d become a mom.

  “Twins?” he asked.

  Rachel began to pale before glancing at Kallie. “Yep.”

  And Kallie. Grant couldn’t believe how seeing her again had nearly knocked him flat as he’d stepped out of his pickup.

  He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d traveled all the way out to the farm just to tell her his simple plans regarding his half of the inheritance. He supposed a piece of him really wanted a reason to see the place again, to remember Frank in the environment the man had loved so deeply and to offer his condolences to Kallie. And, of course, he was curious how she had fared these past two years and what she was up to these days.

  But now, after sitting in her kitchen and drinking from a random mug he actually remembered, he realized it was a huge mistake. Emotions he’d assumed were long buried had begun to resurface the instant he saw her standing on the walkway, her sweet blue eyes and waist-length blond hair tucked behind her ear. Man, she still looked good. Sounded good. Still fit snugly into a pocket he hadn’t realized lay open in his heart.

  A pocket he knew he needed to close forever. Because he and Kallie would never work. He’d left here a young man scared of commitment and full of big ambitions—and he’d always regretted it.

  Growing up with a bum for a father had scared him into believing he’d repeat the man’s mistakes. That he wouldn’t be a good husband to Kallie and wouldn’t be a good father if they ever had kids.

  So at the time, it was easier to run away. But he’d been wrong to do it. She deserved better treatment than that. Now here he was, a bit washed up and lost, looking to regain his sense of direction. But he needed to remember he wasn’t going to find that here.

  Rachel coughed softly into her fist, standing there awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure what to do next, which only served to make Grant suspicious. What was going on and why wouldn’t she come in?

  He was about to ask when the phone in his pocket chimed. Cell service was nonexistent out here, so it had to be Kallie’s Wi-Fi. Hmm, an email. How about that? His phone remembered this place and had automatically connected.

  Quietly he excused himself to check the email. As he did, Kallie scurried out onto the porch, her voice hushed as she asked something of Rachel.

  Who knew what they were discussing. Turning his attention to the phone, Grant opened his inbox. The email was from Will Parker, his contact for the Helping Hands board of directors, responding to Grant’s question of whether or not they’d held their meeting yet—the one they were supposed to have last week in order to okay the plans for the facility’s office rebuild, which they’d lost in a fire earlier this year. Something had postponed last week’s meeting, though he didn’t know what, and they’d promised to hold a new one today.

  Grant,

  No meeting yet. Waiting on some measures to finalize before we meet. Perhaps next week.

  —Will

  Grant frowned. Not the answer he’d anticipated, for sure. He tapped out a reply.

  Finalize measures? What kind of measures?

  Kallie opened the screen door, so Grant slipped his phone into his jeans pocket. He froze in his movement, though, when he noticed her hefting one of the carrier seats. Rachel came in behind her with the other one.

  Okay, so maybe she was staying for a visit after all.

  Grant stepped out of the way, watching the two women head to the living room and unload two dark-haired babies onto the carpet. A boy crawled toward a stuffed giraffe Kallie handed him, and a girl toddled quickly after him before also dropping to her knees.

  “Well,” Rachel glanced hesitantly at Grant before sending Kallie a look, “I’ll see you Sunday.”

  “Thanks for watching the kids, Rach.”

  Grant blinked. Wait, what?

  Rachel brushed thick hair over her shoulder, and inched back toward the screen door, peeking at Grant as she retreated past him. “S
afe trip back to Iowa.”

  “Um, thanks.” He watched her go before turning back to the living room.

  Was Kallie a mom?

  And was she married? Grant glanced around the kitchen for any sign of a male’s presence. A work coat or muddy boots or even a family photo taped to the fridge. But nothing.

  His focus returned to the babies making themselves at home, and he was suddenly aware of the muscles tightening in his stance. Stiffly, he made his way into the living room, lingering just inside the doorway, eyesight never leaving the twins.

  This made no sense. Was there a guy? There must not be because otherwise, why would Frank will half of the farm to Grant? Actually, regardless of whether or not Kallie was seeing someone or married or whatever, he had no idea why Frank had left Grant in the will. But especially if some guy’s kids were involved. Unless Grant was...

  No. No. That couldn’t be the case. These kids were little, and he’d been gone two years. He had no real experience with babies, but he’d guess they were only seven or eight months old.

  After a couple of long, deep breaths, he found his voice. “So—they’re yours?”

  Kallie looked into his eyes. She nodded, and even though that was the answer he’d expected, something in Grant’s world still knocked sideways.

  Who...?

  No, he couldn’t ask that question out loud. It was brash. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Didn’t keep his mind from scrolling through the possibilities. There weren’t many—Kallie hadn’t dated anyone before Grant. Someone new must have come to town.

  Oh. Except for Brendan Millard.

  Grant clenched his jaw and lowered himself onto the sofa, the same one he’d used when he’d worked here, and Frank would encourage him to take a quick nap after lunch before returning to the tractor.

  Brendan Millard’s parents ran the neighboring farm, and he’d grown up with Kallie. From the beginning, he hadn’t been a fan of Grant, who’d moved to Bitter Creek in high school and was a grade older than both of them. Grant suspected, though, it was because Brendan’s feelings for her ran deeper than friendship.

  Grant rubbed at his temple and then down his shadowed jaw. The kids had to be Brendan’s. She would have told Grant if they were his.

  Right?

  “This is Peter,” Kallie said, her voice soft, bringing Grant’s thoughts around. “And this is Ainsley. Peter’s older by nine minutes, but Ainsley acts like she’s in charge.”

  Peter threw a burp cloth over his head, and giggling a silvery laugh, Ainsley joyously yanked it off, causing them both to squeal.

  Grant couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re cute.”

  “Thanks.”

  Watching, Grant felt pummeled. Kallie had always insisted Brendan was just a friend, but what if that hadn’t been the case? Had he stepped in after Grant left? It would make sense. Brendan loved to farm. And he had a bunch of siblings. He was built for family.

  Two things that weren’t in Grant’s blood—no matter how hard he’d searched for them years ago, when his relationship with Kallie had depended on it.

  But where was Brendan now?

  “We should feed the dogs,” Kallie said suddenly, rising to her feet, Ainsley in her arms. “I’ll grab the stroller from the truck bed if you don’t mind bringing Peter.”

  “Oh. Sure.” He scooped up the little boy, so light he worried about squashing him. Relax, Young. He’s not a newborn pup.

  He followed Kallie outside, heading for her truck parked in the turnaround. “I’m surprised Peter’s doing as well as he is, since he doesn’t know you,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Why? Is he generally shy?” And why had she asked him to carry the child if she knew that about him? Grant looked at Peter in his arms, but the boy only squinted in the sun, distracted by the outdoors.

  “Generally.” Kallie placed Ainsley on the grass so she could open the tailgate and pull out a folded double-wide stroller. “He loves people, but he has to warm up first.”

  Ainsley quickly approached the stroller, seemingly recognizing it. Kallie unfolded it and lifted her daughter into one of the seats, then buckled her in. Grant brought Peter over and followed suit, albeit awkwardly.

  “Do they like this thing?”

  “They love it. I do, too.”

  “Is it hard to maneuver around here?”

  “Actually, it’s easy.” She checked the stroller’s visors so the sun wasn’t in the kids’ eyes, then pushed the stroller across the turnaround. “It’s a sport utility stroller, so the tires are really nice. We use it all the time.”

  The kids kicked their legs and pointed out scenery as they rumbled over the gravel and dirt.

  As they approached the barn, a Llewellin skittered out of the shadows and loped toward them.

  “Hey, Chief.” Grant kept up with Kallie and the stroller, though a couple of yards to her right. “You remember Chief, right?” He motioned to the bird dog as Chief’s nose tugged him toward a stand of scrub oaks.

  “I do. Took me a moment. He’s from the same litter as Ruby, I think.”

  “Yep.” Grant slid his hands deep into his pockets, gravel scraping beneath his boots. When he’d worked here just out of high school, Frank held summer camps for training bird dogs, and in the winter, he guided hunters. The South Dakota prairie teemed with pheasants and grouse. One winter, some hunters had sold Frank a pair of Llewellins, and Grant had purchased Chief from their first litter.

  He led the way into the barn where the dog food was kept, and Kallie followed, Chief slipping in between them.

  “Do you remember where we keep the food?”

  Instead of answering, he simply took keys from a nail on the wall and unlocked a cabinet beneath the worktable. Then he pulled out the tub of food.

  Chief ran the length of the barn, joining Bella, his second setter who was too busy checking out all the new smells to acknowledge their presence.

  “Did you get your other dog from your shelter?”

  “Yep. That’s Bella. She’s gun-shy, but we do well together.”

  He called her over and Bella approached with obvious fondness. Depositing the keys on the worktable, he knelt and buried his fingers in the tri-colored hair behind her ears. Bella closed her eyes and tilted her head toward him. Then he scooped food into a dish, and at the sound of food hitting metal, Chief was hot on Bella’s trail, looking for his own supper. Grant fed him, too.

  “A previous handler spooked her while hunting. An all-too-common problem with our shelter dogs, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you like working at the rescue facility?”

  “I do. It’s fulfilling to witness so many success stories, you know?” He dropped some food in a bowl for Ruby. “We have it set up where setters are taken into foster homes for a while before they can be adopted. This helps us evaluate their true nature in a home environment. Plus, it gives them the comfort of a home while they wait for a permanent family.”

  “Is that how you found Bella? Did you foster her?”

  “Yep. And once I looked into her big eyes, I was a goner.”

  Much like Kallie. He’d known she was special the moment he saw her.

  Clearing his throat, Grant turned away and locked the dog food back in the cupboard, where it was safe from raccoons who sometimes explored the barn at night.

  Call him soft but he had a love for the setters who needed extra understanding and attention. He’d found that passion while working here at Bitter Creek Farm, and when he’d gotten involved in Iowa training them and running the rescue facility, he’d realized he enjoyed caring for someone other than himself.

  It had awakened an instinct he’d never thought possible.

  The truth ricocheted down through his core as he straightened, letting the dogs eat. Because he feared becoming like his dad, he’d never
wanted kids. And when he and Kallie had gotten carried away one night, the reality of marriage and the possibility of fatherhood had hit him hard.

  That night had woken him up, made him believe that he couldn’t be what Kallie deserved.

  But now...

  He glanced at Kallie and her kids, at the life he could have had if only he’d had the courage. All of this could have been his—this simple life, with their own family to come home to rather than an empty apartment. But he’d missed that opportunity, and someone else had taken his place.

  He only had himself to blame.

  Chapter Two

  “Thanks for letting me stick around for supper, Kallie.”

  “No problem.”

  Though honestly, Kallie didn’t feel as nonchalant as her answer indicated. Ever since Grant had arrived, she’d been flooded with guilt. Back when he left, she’d felt justified in keeping the kids a secret. He’d wanted to forget farm life and train dogs. Wasn’t interested in being a dad or a husband. Not to mention the teensy-tiny detail that he’d flat out left her barely a month after proposing.

  She still worried that he wouldn’t care. That he’d shrug the kids off. So, she’d held her tongue through supper preparation and getting the kids into their high chairs. To keep her mind busy, she worked with her hands—grabbed various pots and bowls of food from the counter to bring them to the table.

  Grant watched her from his chair. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, I’m almost done.” The tasks didn’t need to be completed any faster than they already were.

  Peter and Ainsley sat in matching high chairs beside her place setting. Cooked mashed peas littered their trays, and thankfully, they ate in pure delight—judging by their screeching and their attempts to share the peas across their trays.

  More landed on the floor between them than anywhere else, which Ruby appreciated.

  The oven timer beeped, so Kallie bent and pulled out the chicken potpie, the center boiling through a cracked edge of crust. She’d used the chicken from her slow cooker, thinking with Grant staying that the meal needed to be heartier than she’d originally planned. She set it in the middle of everything else like a centerpiece at a Thanksgiving feast.