Her Secret Twins

by Janette Foreman

  “Yep.” She didn’t look up—kept her gaze fixed on the numbers.

  Nodding, Grant headed for the door, his English muffin in hand. “I’m going out to check the fields, then. See what the crew’s plans are. I’ll be back in a few hours to say hi to the kids.”

  He glanced behind him, but it was almost like she hadn’t heard him get up. Shaking his head, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the sunlight.

  Kallie Shore wasn’t used to sharing responsibility. And honestly, why would she be? For two years, she’d been taking care of her dad, the farm and then the twins to boot. But who was caring for her?

  Times were changing. She now had a partner in all of this, if only she would realize it.

  * * *

  Kallie took the front steps and headed across the turnaround, zeroing her sights in on the barn. It was naptime, and so with the baby monitor clipped to her pocket, it was time to get some work done.

  That work today included starting a garden.

  This morning, after she’d figured all of Dad’s remaining expenses, she’d lined up all the bills according to size. The best way to build momentum, she figured, was to attack each bill one at a time, smallest to largest. Then she’d jumped on the computer to pay a couple of the really small ones with Dad’s savings account.

  Now, she was planning out her long game.

  There were the crops from her fields, of course, and those would bring in the most money, but not until late in the summer. Until then, she needed other moneymaking options. One of those would be a domestic garden, which she could then harvest for the summer’s farmers market in Bitter Creek every Saturday.

  And before the garden’s harvest was ready, she would bake goods to sell there.

  It wasn’t going to bring in a ton of money, but it was something. And right now, she’d welcome just about any something that came along.

  In the barn, she dug through equipment until she reached the tiller. Covered in dust, the dinosaur of a machine hadn’t been used since the last time she had a garden—at least two years ago, but possibly three. Now was the time to resurrect the task.

  After maneuvering it out of the barn, she pushed the tiller across the turnaround to the large plat where the garden was located. A tall fence surrounded it to keep out animals, and the gate was just wide enough to bring the tiller inside. Working one of these things wasn’t easy, and she’d gone soft a little since the kids were born, but if she didn’t do it, she’d have to wait and ask Grant to do it whenever he popped back into the house to see the kids.

  And she wasn’t ready to ask for his help unless she absolutely needed it.

  Was it the independent spirit that pushed her to do it on her own? Probably. And the fact that she’d managed the farming business, her dad and two children before this. If she’d lived through that just fine, she could handle a tiller.

  Once positioned, she pulled the cord to start it. Nothing happened.

  She pulled the cord again. Still nothing.

  After some fiddling, it finally jolted to life. Grasping the handles with both hands, she started down one side of the hard, packed earth, turning the soil until it was workable and soft.

  The power of the machine’s blade pulled it along and rocked the machine as it dug into the ground. Gritting her teeth, Kallie tightened her grip and pushed it forward, willing it to continue the path rather than veer off on its own. The longer she tilled, the softer the ground became beneath her feet and the harder it was to remain steady. Her feet shifted with every step, and her back muscles began to scream at the strain.

  Only halfway through, she thought she heard something high-pitched over the grind of the machine’s motor. She turned it off, and yep, as the tiller’s growl faded away, Ainsley’s distinct cry sounded over her baby monitor.

  So much for finishing the garden now.

  She glanced at the gray clouds hovering in the sky, laden with rain. She didn’t know when it would hit, but it sure would be nice to get the garden tilled beforehand. It’d be even nicer to get some of it planted, but that was a wistful dream if she’d ever heard of one.

  Leaving the tiller, she headed back to the house.

  After getting the kids up, she brought them downstairs to feed them lunch—mashed green beans and cooked sweet potatoes she had on hand in the fridge.

  A sudden, distant whir of a motor caught her attention.

  “Oh no,” she mumbled, heading to the window. She looked out in the direction of the garden, and sure enough, there was Grant. Manhandling that tiller across the rest of the unturned soil. She sighed.

  The kids were done eating, so she hoisted them from their chairs and took off across the lawn, a baby on each hip.

  The sun, higher now, heated the back of her neck and arms as she approached the high fence. “Grant!” she called, hoping he’d hear her over the tiller.

  He glanced at her but continued to turn the soil.

  She scrunched her nose. “Grant!”

  Peter fussed a little, the noise seeming to bother him. That or the sun—she shouldn’t keep the babies out here too long without hats or sunscreen. If only he would stop long enough to listen to her.

  Finally, he must have realized she wasn’t leaving and cut the tiller’s power. He raised his gaze to meet hers.

  “I was working on that,” she said.

  “Yep. And I’m finishing it.”

  “I was coming back this afternoon.”

  Grant motioned to the sky. “It’ll probably rain by then. Best to get it done now.”

  Her stomach knotted with guilt. The last thing she’d wanted was to create work for Grant to do. This was her project, her way of helping save Bitter Creek Farm. He wasn’t her personal handyman or a hired employee to finish all of her projects for her.

  Though, as Grant started up the tiller again and worked his way toward the remaining stretch of dirt, sweat glistening on his neck and seeping through his gray T-shirt, she couldn’t ignore the rush of appreciation in her heart. As much as she hated to admit it, it probably would have taken her all afternoon to finish the garden. Time she didn’t have, given the impending rainstorm. She definitely had the grit and capability to do it on her own, but a little help from a friend could be welcomed.

  And she knew the perfect way to say thank you.

  Peter began to fuss again, so she left Grant to the task and took the kids inside.

  After she got them interested in some toys on the kitchen floor, she went about collecting supplies to make an apple pie—Grant’s favorite dessert. She worked quickly to get it in the oven before Grant finished the garden. And as she finally slipped the pie pan into the preheated oven, the slow rumble of thunder passed over the house.

  As she cleaned up the baking supplies and put everything away, she heard Grant cut the tiller’s motor. With a glance out the window, Kallie spotted him hauling the machine out of the garden through the gate and then pushing it back to the barn.

  More thunder reverberated overhead. Then, the rain came.

  The soft patter on the roof of her little home picked up speed, splattering the windowpanes and siding with a steady flow. When Grant emerged from the barn at a run, Kallie hastened to the laundry room just off the kitchen. She yanked a towel from the dryer and darted back to the kitchen as the door opened.

  Water soaked Grant’s T-shirt and dripped from his hair sticking out from under his ball cap. He met her gaze with an invigorated spark in his eyes and reached for her towel, arms slicked with rain.

  “Thanks.” He pulled off his cap and tossed it on the nearby counter before scrubbing the towel against his face and arms.

  “I still have some of Dad’s hooded sweatshirts if you’d like something dry to wear.”

  “Sure.”

  Kallie returned to the laundry room and pulled down a box she’d stored on one of the t
op shelves, full of Dad’s old clothing—the stuff she knew he’d loved. She just hadn’t had the heart to get rid of those things. A black hooded sweatshirt lay not too deep in the pile, so she pulled it out and brought it to Grant.

  He shot her a look of gratitude as he exchanged the towel for the shirt, then headed off for the bathroom.

  Ainsley squealed, holding up a bright blue nesting cup she’d successfully pulled out of a purple one.

  “Look at you!” Kallie crouched beside her daughter, drinking in her pure sense of accomplishment. “You did it.” Gathering some of the cups around her, Kallie slid them into each other and handed them to Ainsley. “So many!”

  Giggling, Ainsley grabbed the stacked cups in one pudgy hand, then swiftly turned them upside down, scattering every colored cup across the linoleum. A hardy laugh burst forth from both kids.

  “So, I was wonderin’ something,” Grant said, stepping into the room.

  Kallie looked up and stared. Grant looked back at her, Dad’s sweatshirt fitting him rather well, and a fresh wave of pain collided with the wall she’d built around her heart. A tsunami of bitter sadness and confusion for why her father, of all people, had been struck down by that horrible disease.

  Grant looked down at his shirt and cleared his throat. “It really stinks that he’s gone.”

  She sniffed. “Yeah.”

  “I miss him, too.”

  “I know you do.”

  Grant came in and sat down on the floor next to her, watching the kids play. “I remember once, when I first started working here, he took me out to walk the fields to give the dogs a chance to run. He talked about the loyalty of dogs. It doesn’t matter what kind of day you’ve had or what’s going wrong in your life. Your dog is always right there, ready to offer comfort. That’s why they’re called man’s best friend. But even more powerful is God’s loyalty. Frank was quick to remind me of that. He told me God could offer more comfort than any dog ever could.”

  Kallie nodded. “He told me that a lot, too. That, and warned me not to be a hermit all of my life.”

  Grant chuckled. “Yeah, you could probably hide away for months without coming up for air.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Do you think he left me on the will for a reason?”

  The question caught Kallie off guard. The thought had circled into her mind on brief occasions before she’d pushed it away, refusing to consider it. But yeah, what if Dad had left Grant in the will on purpose? What would have been his reasoning? Just so the kids would know their father? Or was there a deeper motivation than that?

  Kallie shook her head. “I don’t know, Grant. It’s impossible to say now.”

  “Did you know I was still in the will?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  They sat in silence for a moment before Grant shifted his sitting position. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad he did. I’m really enjoying getting to know the kids.”

  She eyed him. “It’s only been a day. You stay long enough and I make you do enough farmwork, you might just be singing a different tune.”

  “Hey, I voluntarily did today’s farmwork. And if I could master the tiller, I think I could master most things thrown at me.”

  Kallie looked away. Time for a change of subject. Conversations like this were good, but if they lasted too long, they deepened to levels she wasn’t interested in exploring. “What were you going to say when you first came in? You were wondering something?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I was going to tell you I saw Maxwell Thornton today.”

  “How does his outfit look? His business?”

  “Good. I was able to give him a couple of ideas he hadn’t thought of yet, and he invited me to come out once the season started.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, he invited me to his house Sunday night for a birthday thing he’s doing for his wife. Said you could come too if you wanted.” He angled his head to catch her gaze. “Do you wanna go with me?”

  She hesitated. Seemed like an odd way to phrase the situation. Depending on how someone took it, Grant could’ve meant he’d asked Maxwell if she could come. Or Maxwell could have invited her of his own accord.

  “I’m guessing kids can’t go,” she said.

  “Why don’t we see if Rachel will watch them?” He smiled. “Come on. When was the last time you had a night out without the kids? Ever?”

  He was right—she’d never had a night out since the kids were born. Occasionally she’d asked Rachel to watch them, and that had only been so she could get something else accomplished—like clean the employee’s cabin, or meet with Grant about the terms of Dad’s will.

  It was a night out with Grant, but it would also be with other people. So maybe it wouldn’t be an awkward thing.

  “Sure, why not? Sounds fun.” She offered a tentative smile.

  “Great. And by the way...” Grant sniffed. “Something smells an awful lot like an apple pie. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “Consider it a thank-you for your hard work on the garden today. And for nearly drowning in the gullywasher afterward.”

  He broke into a grin, a dimple marking one cheek. “Got any more chores for me to do? I could get used to this kind of gratitude.”

  Biting back a laugh, Kallie gave his arm a little shove and got to her feet to check the pie.

  She glanced back at him as the oven’s timer rang out, announcing that the pie was ready. He’d turned his attention to stacking cups with the kids. Earlier, while watching him till the land, she had referred to him in her mind as a friend. And a part of her really missed him as such. Did she dare actually think of him in that way on a more permanent basis?

  Maybe Sunday night would give her an answer.

  * * *

  In the nursery, Grant looked about as natural as a horse in a henhouse. But for it being the first time he’d attempted a bedtime routine with babies, he was being a real trouper.

  Kallie knelt beside him on the carpeted floor, slipping Ainsley into a fresh pair of footed pajamas after the kids’ bath. She couldn’t help but glance at Grant’s clumsy efforts to put pajamas on Peter, too, while feeling her heart bubble with new respect.

  Tonight, he’d fumbled his way through what she was pretty sure was his first diaper change ever. He’d been given a crash course in drawing bathwater and washing hair. And the way he’d played with the kids, like he’d known them for forever?

  It was like she wasn’t even looking at the same man she’d known a couple years ago. Back then, he’d been young and a little wild, with a head full of big plans. Nothing could tie him down. Had he possibly changed since then?

  “You’ve really hung in there tonight, Grant. Wrangling these peanuts isn’t easy.”

  He caught her eye, the warm glint there unraveling something inside her. “You seem to have it under control.”

  She chuckled, zipping Ainsley’s pink fuzzy jammies up over her bulging baby belly. “You’re being very gracious—but thank you.”

  “I can tell you run a tight ship. That’s to be commended.” He rolled Peter back toward him as the boy tried to make a break for it.

  Kallie grabbed a stuffed animal from a toy bin beside her. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He handed it over and Peter finally stilled, interested in grabbing the animal’s fuzzy ears. “By the way, what’s up with these pj’s?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the zipper’s upside down.”

  Kallie fought a smile. “They zip from the top down—so you can change a diaper without taking the pajamas all the way off. I don’t have very many of them, but the ones I have are lifesavers.”

  “Huh.” Grant raised his brows at the pajamas with what looked like new appreciation. “The things they’ve come up with.”

 
“I know. They’ve solved problems I didn’t even know existed until I experienced them.”

  Peter tossed his stuffed animal, the toy landing on Ainsley, who scrambled to get up.

  “Nice throw, mister.” Kallie reached for the animal, only to collide her hand with Grant’s, who’d reached for it, too.

  He withdrew his hand quickly, animal in his grasp. The soft smile he sent her warmed Kallie clear to her toes.

  She lifted Ainsley to put her in her crib and Grant followed close behind. Kallie kissed each child good-night, and Grant actually managed to make each of them laugh before they turned off the light and left the room.

  In the quiet, they made their way downstairs. As they reached the first floor and headed into the kitchen, Grant pulled out his phone and appeared to be checking something.

  “Finding anything interesting?” she asked, clearing away dishes from tonight’s supper.

  “Oh, it’s another email from work.” He exhaled, the look in his eyes suddenly tired. “I called to tell them the situation, but I only got our secretary, Carol. I had to leave a message with the board president, Craig Preston. Anyway, I told him what’s going on, and he just now got back to me.”

  “About how you can work from home?”

  “Well, sort of.” Grant shrugged and pocketed his phone. “He’s not a fan of my working from here. So I’ll have to come up with some good reasons why it would work and present them to him on Monday.”

  “I see.” Kallie busied herself with sticking plates and silverware in the dishwasher, fighting the worry that continued to hound her. Would the strain that staying here was putting on Grant’s employment be too much for him to handle? What if he ended up going back to Iowa after all?

  She thought about the words Dad had used to describe God’s faithfulness, and she tried to apply it to her situation now. No matter how hard things got, He was always there, ready to offer comfort. Some days, she had a hard time believing it. But today, she decided to try her best to lean into it instead.