The Mountain Man's Secret Twins

by Alexa Ross

  “I found a photograph in your cabin. A photograph of you, and a beautiful blond woman, and a baby. Where is your wife and child? Why don’t you tell anyone about them?”

  Bryce looked taken aback. Immediately, Kenzie was fearful, realizing she’d drawn the line between them, calling him out on his falsehoods. But how could she live knowing he was telling her lies?

  Bryce leaned back against the bench, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “Well. I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d be telling this story today. Although, it’s always running through my head.”

  Kenzie frowned, sensing tragedy. Her heart grew heavy in her chest. She focused on her breathing: inhale, exhale.

  “That’s one of the only photos I still have of my parents,” he said, sighing. “The man you thought was me is actually my father. But he never lived to be as old as I am. The year after that photo was taken, when I was only two, both of my parents died in a house fire not far from here.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Kenzie whispered, her shoulders falling. “That’s horrible.”

  “I survived the fire. My room was near the back of the house, and a firefighter was able to break my window and save me. But my parents were too deep inside the house, and the stability of the place was totally gone. Strange, isn’t it, that I’m always building fires?”

  “I assume you have your reasons,” Kenzie answered.

  “I don’t have any memories of my parents,” he said, “but I have a vague feeling for the warmth of them, holding me by the fire. I know it sounds crazy, but building those fires seems like a way to link myself with them. So I chop wood, and I build fires, all day and all night, up in my cabin.”

  “But you moved away,” Kenzie said. “I went to the cabin first, and it seemed you’d been gone for weeks.”

  “I always go back. I sometimes like to be closer to where I grew up. You see, this park is the very one we took that photo in. After they died, they renamed the park.”

  “Blue Blossom?” Kenzie asked, remembering the wooden sign.

  “That was my father’s nickname for my mother,” Bryce said. “Because of her bright blue eyes and her cheerfulness. At least, that’s what my mother’s friend told me. She made sure the park was appropriately named.” Bryce moved his back away from the bench and gestured toward the golden plaque there, which read: Carter and Molly Walker, R.I.P.

  Kenzie placed her finger against the plaque, tracing the words. Sitting beside Bryce, with nothing hidden between them anymore, she felt the chemistry, the electricity, the lust growing within her. She placed her hand on Bryce’s knee, and he took her fingers in his. Her nose filled with his musk. Kenzie leaned into him, kissing his soft, pink lips and feeling the scratchiness of his beard.

  Once the kiss broke, Bryce smiled. “You’re even more beautiful now that I know you’re carrying my babies.”

  “You’re even more handsome now that I know a bit more about you,” Kenzie said. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been terribly hard, growing up without them.”

  “But that’s all the more reason I want to be a part of our children’s lives,” Bryce said. Tears glittered in his eyes. “I bounced from foster home to foster home, never finding a place to land. Never adopted. Too quiet for that. Potential parents said I ‘lacked something.’ But really, I was just guarded. I’d never really known love.

  “Now that you’re pregnant, I want to do it all right. I want to play baseball in the backyard, and help my daughter learn to cook, and run around, and laugh. I want to open up more and stop being such a closed-off hermit.”

  “You could never be an asshole,” Kenzie said, laughing, feeling giddy from his promises. “You have demons, Bryce, but you can overcome them. This is a new start.”

  Kenzie leaned toward Bryce and kissed him again, lifting her body onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. She lifted his hand to her abdomen, allowing him to feel her stomach. “I didn’t know what was wrong,” she said, laughing with joy. “I was sick all the time and always gaining weight!”

  “You look absolutely perfect,” Bryce said, kissing her neck. “That said, I want to take you back with me. I won’t have my babies out here in the cold another minute.”

  “Already you’re such a strict father,” Kenzie teased. She felt electric, her face so close to his. It felt as if they’d never been apart.

  “They’ll do what I say, and that means they’ll follow their curfew,” Bryce teased back. He lifted Kenzie into the air and carried her, just as he had in the forest nearly two months before. He took her back to his truck, telling her he’d grab her car the next day—that he just wanted to be close to her for fear of losing her again. Exhausted after her long day of driving, Kenzie agreed. She was grateful for the warmth and familiarity of his truck, for the scratchy radio station, for Bryce’s sturdy hands on the wheel.

  Bryce drove them back toward the Blue Boys Clubhouse. They passed it quickly, Kenzie peering out at Gunner and Larry, both of who were smoking near the entrance. “I can’t believe you used to drive motorcycles,” she said, laughing. “I can hardly picture it.”

  “Really?” Bryce said. “I had a leather jacket. Thick boots. We would go all over the country—once we drove all the way to New Orleans. It was the only time I felt really free from all my anxieties. And none of the guys cared if you shared anything about yourself or not. But I always listened.”

  “That’s what they said. But it sounded like you,” Kenzie said, feeling warm. “I remember when I first met you, I word-vomited everything about my ex to you, and you just took it. It was exactly what I needed back then.”

  “Oh yes, the infamous Austin,” Bryce said, laughing, knowing he didn’t matter any longer to her. No one else did. “How did that go when you got back?”

  Kenzie rolled her eyes playfully. “He’s a dick. I was grateful to be rid of him. Plus, it gave me more time to daydream about you.”

  Bryce peered at her curiously. “You left because you were scared of what this could be? Or because you found that photograph under my bed?”

  “Maybe a bit of both,” Kenzie said honestly, feeling foolish now for wasting any time. “I probably wasn’t ready. I needed to stew over you for a while.”

  “Same. I’d spent too much time alone. I felt things for you I didn’t fully understand.” He paused for a long time, screeching the wheels as he turned into a driveway next to a yellow bed and breakfast. “But now I think I’m ready. Let’s do this, baby. Full steam ahead.” He smacked the steering wheel, making Kenzie giggle.

  Bryce helped Kenzie from the front seat, offering her his sturdy arm. He gestured toward the yellow bed and breakfast, explaining its origins. “I always stay here when I want a break from the cabin. Larry’s sister owns it, and she always gives me a discount. But most of all, she treats me like family, which, as you know now, means a lot to me.”

  At the door stood an older woman who did resemble the shaggy-haired man at the Blue Boys Clubhouse. She grinned behind her cat-eye glasses, looking Kenzie up and down. “Bryce. In all your years here, you’ve never brought a girl home. What’s gotten into you?” she teased.

  “Marnie, we’re going to need two pieces of pie, I think. And some tea. Up in my room, if you don’t mind.”

  “Absolutely. The apple or the cherry?”

  “One of each, of course, please,” he said, laughing. He lifted Kenzie again and carried her gingerly up the steps, Kenzie wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Marnie stood below, on the first step, shaking her head at them. “You’re a 30-year-old man, Bryce. Act your age. Let the lady walk.”

  Bryce tapped Kenzie’s tiny feet on the landing and saluted Marnie, giving her a foolish grin. “I can’t help myself. I just found out I’m going to be a father. Twins, Marnie.” He wrapped his arms around Kenzie again and kissed her forehead tenderly, overjoyed.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” Marnie said. “I didn’t think any woman around
here would come within three feet you, let alone…” She trailed off. “I’ll get that pie up to you, darlings. Happy news!” She clacked back to the kitchen, which exuded the smell of gooey cinnamon rolls.

  Bryce opened the far door, revealing a small, intimate bedroom with a canopy bed and antique furniture, including an eggshell blue lamp that hadn’t worked for at least 40 years. “They always have things that don’t work in bed and breakfasts,” Bryce said. “It’s almost a requirement.”

  “Can I show you how I would sell this room as a real estate agent?” Kenzie said, unbuttoning her coat to reveal her sweater beneath. She dropped the coat onto the floral bedspread, waggling her eyebrows. “First, I’d tell you that about ten people are currently squabbling over this place, but I got you the very last viewing possible.”

  “So, you want to lie to me?” Bryce said, his eyes flashing.

  “Not a lie,” Kenzie corrected. “A stretched truth, maybe. But it’s one of the tools in the business. Afterward, I’d explain that once upon a time, Queen Elizabeth II had slept in this very bed, along with three of her corgis. She’d gotten a cold in it and had thus sold it off to New England, where it now resides.”

  “A royal bed. I had no idea Larry’s sister understood such luxury.” Bryce laughed.

  “Oh, that’s not even the half of it,” Kenzie said. She gestured toward the antique lamp. “The eggshell blue is a sign of the Civil War era, when an old woman waited up, night after night, for her dead sons to come home. Naturally, back then, the lamp had a candle. They upgraded, for practicality.”

  “And now, for practicality, the lamp doesn’t even work,” Bryce pointed out.

  “Sure, but it’s antique,” Kenzie said, shrugging. Exhausted, she collapsed on the deep mattress, raising her arms and gesturing for Bryce to come closer. “So, do you think you’d buy the place? Have I sufficiently sold it?”

  Bryce leaned over her, careful not to put any pressure on her abdomen. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he kissed her soundly, gazing into her eyes. “What’s your asking price?” he teased.

  “It’s not steep,” she whispered back. “The only qualification is you must agree to be the father of my children. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “I think I can,” Bryce whispered, kissing her chin.

  There was a rap at the door. Bryce leaped up and opened it, revealing a huffing Marnie, who carried two plates of countless treats, including cinnamon rolls, pies, cakes, and a pumpkin roll. She placed the plate on the side dresser, looking at them both with bright, approving eyes. “I didn’t know what the pregnant lady was hungry for, so I brought everything,” she said.

  Bryce lifted a cinnamon roll from the plate and bit into it, the sweetness of the icing forcing his eyes closed. “Gosh, Marnie, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

  Marnie blushed but was clearly accustomed to his praises. She pointed to the goodies, telling Kenzie to eat up. “Those babies are hungry, darling. You have permission to eat as much as you want for nine months. Do it for the rest of us.” She patted her own rather rotund yet not-pregnant belly.

  Marnie left them then, sensing they wanted privacy to flirt, gaze into one another’s eyes, and daydream about their future. They placed the pie plate between them and fed each other small bites, feeling like children with crumbs scattered on the bedspread.

  “What do you think you’ll do, by the way?” Bryce asked her. “About your job. About Concord. Do you want me to move there?”

  Kenzie considered this. She realized that after abandoning her meetings that morning, she hadn’t thought beyond what would happen if, and only if, Bryce agreed to be involved as the father of her children. She bit her lip, remembering the gray office carpet, the whitewashed walls, the sad, downward glances of her clients, just looking for a good deal on a three-bedroom colonial. It all seemed meaningless.

  “I can’t imagine going back there,” she said, her voice soft. “I can’t imagine Austin seeing me pregnant. The questions at the office. Showing another stupid house and lying about it. I only did this work because I was good at it. But I’d rather do anything else, like concentrate on being a mom, and on being with you.”

  Bryce looked overjoyed. He stretched his palms flat in front of him. “Move in with me,” he said. “As soon as you can gather all your things. I want to support you and care for you during the pregnancy. I want you to be as comfortable as possible. And I don’t want you running all over Concord with a twin belly.” He wrapped her in a hug, removing the plate from the bedspread and leaning against the pillows. The clock on the wall read 12:30 at night. “I want to rub your feet when you grow tired and make fires for you. I want to argue with you about baby names, and I want to make you sun tea on the deck when you get too hot in the summertime.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll manage to do for you,” Kenzie said, beginning to remove her sweater and pants, preparing for bed. Her eyelids were drooping. “I’ll be far too fat by the time summer hits to do much more than complain to you.”

  “Then complain away,” Bryce said, laughing. He began to undress as well. They lay beneath the covers in their underwear, their warm skin pressed tightly together. They were too exhausted to make love. They immediately fell asleep, safe from the chilly April weather, listening to their breaths grow slower into the night. Bryce held on to Kenzie’s baby bump, already protecting them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kenzie spent the next several days in Cambridge with Bryce, occasionally hanging out with the Blue Boys—who were much less rugged during the afternoons, when they drank tea instead of beer and didn’t smell of cigarettes. Bryce was open and warm with his friends, who accepted him back into the gang full force. He took Kenzie on a brief motorcycle ride, using Gunner’s bike, and they shot through the tiny town in mere minutes, Kenzie clinging tightly to Bryce’s back.

  Bryce went to Concord for several days with Kenzie to gather her things, driving his truck across the border. He lost his radio station after about an hour’s ride and scrambled to find another with enough oldies, failing miserably. “Another reason to stick to Vermont, I guess,” he said.

  “We’ll wash our hands of New Hampshire soon,” Kenzie replied.

  They arrived at her tiny apartment after several hours, and Kenzie required an immediate nap. Bryce gathered supplies at a local grocery store and cooked them a vibrant meal, conscious of the vegetables, meats, and nutrients Kenzie required now as a pregnant woman.

  Kenzie sent a letter of resignation to her boss, asking him to reassign her clients to other real estate agents. After the company received an email explaining Kenzie’s departure, Kenzie received no note from Austin, no “Good luck.” But she felt a collective sigh across the company, everyone grateful that the drama of Tori, Austin, and Kenzie could be over for good. Perhaps she just imagined it, though.

  Kenzie sold many of her belongings, bringing only the bare essentials for her new life on the mountain. Before leaving, she met a final time with her gynecologist, who set her up with a colleague in Vermont. Kenzie couldn’t have planned anything better; it seemed her life was suited for moving in with Bryce, for motherhood. Even her own mother didn’t seem to care about her decision, seeming frazzled and far away on the phone. “That’s great, honey. Call me when the babies are born.”

  Kenzie supposed she’d done precisely what her mother had asked, at least in a sense. She’d found a man who would take care of her. But that was just the bare minimum. In her mind, she’d found her soul mate.

  The summer months were bright, sunny, with the forest trees springing to life with vibrant blossoms in May. Kenzie and Bryce took long walks together, Kenzie clinging to her belly and Bryce clinging to her, conscious of the uneven terrain. Kenzie poked fun at herself often, telling him that if she grew another inch around her belly, she’d have to start crawling.

  It was true that the twins made her look like a glowing balloon, albeit one with long, flowing dark hair, thin arms, and a wide, hopeful
smile. She didn’t often think about her old life back in Concord. Bryce seemed to have found reprieve from his past as well, having placed a portrait of his parents in the living room instead of hiding them away under his bed.

  The twins’ due date was mid-November, a full nine months after Bryce and Kenzie had met. As Kenzie prepared to give birth, the true Vermont winter weather kicked in, pummeling them with snow showers and sleet. Kenzie began to grow nervous, gazing out the window with her tea in hand. Steam filled her face, opening her pores. “Do you think we’ll be able to get down the mountain when it happens?” she asked, her fear obvious.

  “Your due date’s not for another week or so,” Bryce said, rubbing her tense shoulders. “By then we’re supposed to get some sun. I’ll clear the roads with my snow tires. You know, if anyone can handle Vermont mountain snow, it’s me.”

  But Kenzie was still fearful, becoming the portrait of an anxious new mom. She couldn’t sleep at night, despite being incredibly fatigued, and she found herself growing haggard looking just from worry. One particular night, on November 11, she stood in her winter coat, gazing out at the snowy, winter night. Her boots were laced, her hat was tucked low over her eyebrows, and snow was falling thick and fast. Bryce was out front, trying to dig them out, suddenly conscious that this was the kind of snow he couldn’t conquer. They both seemed to pray for the same thing: No labor. Not today.