He never wanted to be in a position where he couldn’t help, couldn’t do anything.
Lots of unknowns where children are concerned, he thought, catching himself by surprise. He’d never thought about that connection. He’d heard people say that having children was like having your heart walk around outside your body. And he certainly couldn’t be there to protect his children 24/7. Hell, he’d been standing fifty feet away from where Maddie had crashed her car; he’d seen it happen. Unable to stop her, help her.
Maddie took his hand again, shaking him from the memory, from the unsettling direction of his thoughts. In five minutes they were at the hall, where town residents could hold events and where the Wedlock Creek High School prom was held every year.
“We went to the prom together? Just as friends?” she asked as they walked into the hall. It was empty now, light filtering in from the huge oval windows.
“Nope. You went with a date. The guy you liked finally asked you, and you thought it was going to be the start of something. You slow-danced to three songs, and then he talked you into taking a walk to Legend Point.”
Maddie narrowed her gaze at him. “Is this a true story? How do you know how many songs we slow-danced too?”
“Because you told me. Tears streaming down your face.”
“Oh. That bad?”
He nodded. “Legend Point is the place where everyone goes to fool around. Or claims to. He got you there and wanted to go further than you were ready for. He got angry and took a wad of dirt and rubbed it on your dress and called you a tease—in a more vulgar way than that—and abandoned you there.”
She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. “Awful.”
“Yup. And that’s when you called me. To bring you home. But when I found you, sitting with your head down and sobbing between a row of hedges, you couldn’t talk or get up, so I just sat and put my arm around your shoulder and you leaned your head against me and cried.”
“Poor seventeen-year-old Maddie.”
“Yeah. I felt horrible for you. I wanted to kill that jerk. I started telling you how he didn’t deserve you, that you were so great, and you said you wished you’d gone to the prom with me, then you popped up and wiped away your tears and said, ‘Let’s go. We can hang out back and listen to the band and dance if we feel like it.’”
“So in my dirt-smeared dress and...I assume you were in jeans and a T-shirt, we went?”
He nodded. “We stood behind the school, and a slow song came on that you loved, and you put your arms around my neck and your head against my chest and I blurted out, ‘Maddie, I love you. I’ve always loved you.’”
Maddie gasped. “Really? What did I say?”
“You looked up at me with your gorgeous blue eyes and said, ‘I’ve always loved you too.’ And then you leaned your head up and kissed me. For the first time on the lips. I almost passed out I was so happy.”
She laughed. “Then what happened?”
“We just stayed there and slow-danced through the next five songs. And then I drove us home, and we went down by the creek and sat on that rock and made out and talked about how we’d been so dumb for so many years.”
“What about the pact to not ruin the friendship?” she asked.
He smiled just thinking about that moment. “We made a new pact. To never break up.”
She threw her arms around him and held on. “I love us. I love Maddie and Sawyer, the seventeen-year-olds.”
“Me too. And then suddenly we’re talking separation outside a marriage counselor’s office with the first snow of the season coming down on our heads.” The weight of the world coming down on his, he thought, a jab in his chest.
“I wish we’d been more focused on the first snow, on Christmas, on how much we loved each other.”
“You were, until you couldn’t take it anymore,” he admitted. “You tried—hard.”
Snow flurries whipped around them and she looked up. “A sign! A second chance to appreciate what we do have.”
“That’s nice, Maddie, but it’s not fair to the woman you were.”
“She’s not here right now, so it’s all I’ve got,” she said with a smile, sticking out her tongue to catch a snowflake.
He laughed, unable to help it. “I don’t deserve you, Maddie. How you’re able to be so good-humored about any of this is beyond me.”
“I probably always was, right? I mean, I am me. I’m just not reacting to you based on any kind of history. But the me I am, that has to be the same, right?”
He hadn’t really thought about that. But he supposed she was the same old Maddie. Believed in the silver lining. Saw the good. Tried to flip things. She was a nurturer. “Yeah. You’re you. The you I fell in love with a long time ago. The you I loved the morning of the accident. The you I love now.”
“So no one is separating. No one is getting divorced. We have nephews to take care of.”
He was relieved to hear her say that, but again, she wasn’t the Maddie who was sick to death of his stalling and “irrational” refusal to take the next step. “What if the twins hadn’t been left in our living room in the middle of the night?”
“We’d still have a marriage to save for when I get my memory back,” she said, taking his hand. “That’s the way I look at it. And anyway, there are too many variables for what-ifs.”
He held on tight to her bright pink mittened hand, the flurries dancing around her beautiful face. “With your memory gone, everything is sunshine and roses between us. In the back of my mind, I know that’s not fair to you.”
“Well, I can’t be in a long-term fight that I don’t remember, so I guess we’ll just have to get along.”
He smiled. “You will get your memory back, Maddie.”
“I wonder what that will be like. The old memories mixing with the new.”
“Me too,” he said, and they started walking back toward the parking lot, Maddie keeping her hand on his. He’d been wondering that a lot. How Maddie would feel about him.
“Know what else I wonder?” she asked as she got inside the car.
He got in and they buckled up. “What?”
“How Maddie-with-the-memories will feel when she finds out you’re ready to start a family because of the bargain you made with the universe when she was lying unconscious in the hospital.”
He stared at her. “She’ll be happy. Having a baby is the point. The whole point. It’s everything that’s standing between us.”
“So she’ll be happy that you’re finally saying yes because she’s not dead?” She shook her head. “Okay, it’s really weird that I’m talking about myself in the third person, but I’m not the woman you’ve known since age five. That woman’s not back yet. All I know for sure is that it’s not how that Maddie will want to start a family, Sawyer.”
He shook his head, confusion flashing in his green eyes. “What matters is that we’ll start a family.”
“You love your wife, Sawyer. That’s not in question. That’s never been in question. But trust me when I say the Maddie I’m coming to know will only want a baby with a man who wants a baby too.”
He felt a frown pulling at his face. “The baby should be the point, not the why.”
“The why is everything. You think you’ll have a baby—the ten babies you promised—and suddenly become all excited about fatherhood? Something that terrifies you and sends you in a dark panic?”
Well, when she put it that way.
He got it.
“Let’s go pick up the twins,” he said, his head starting to pound.
Chapter Seven
A few hours later, Maddie was in the nursery, checking on the sleeping Shane and Max and thinking about the conversation she’d had with Sawyer at the prom site, when her sister popped into mind, Jenna telling her she was pregnant and—
Maddie froze.
Jenna was six months along. That was quite obvious; her sister certainly hadn’t needed to reveal the news of her pregnancy in the past few days. This recollection was just that—a memory! She could see Jenna’s nervous smile. Hear the words I’m pregnant coming out of her mouth and feel her own combination of pure jealousy and pure joy for her sister.
There was only the snatch of memory. Those few words without context, and she had no sense of where they’d been during the conversation. But she was sure it was a memory.
She sucked in a deep breath. This was good. This meant her cognitive functions were on the way to returning to normal. She sure hoped she hadn’t been as jealous with her sister as she’d felt in that memory; the feeling was unmistakable.
Stephen and I waited. Pregnant together. But—
She could hear those bits of words in Jenna’s voice. But that was it.
Still, it was more of the memory.
A headache stirred, and Maddie realized she shouldn’t push herself too hard to remember. She had to just let it all come in time. As a bit had just now.
Her twin sister had waited? Because of her? That made Maddie feel awful. She could just imagine how gutted she’d been by that realization, how it may have contributed to the strife between her and Sawyer.
Jenna had put off having her first baby out of love and loyalty to Maddie—because Sawyer wasn’t ready. And clearly, the writing had been on the wall that Sawyer Wolfe might never be ready. Because Jenna had moved along. Rightfully so.
First a headache, now a stomachache. Ugh.
“Everything okay?”
Maddie turned to find Sawyer standing in the doorway. He’d been about make hot chocolate for them when she’d gone up to check on Shane and Max.
“I had a bit of a memory,” she said, hearing the cool bite in her tone. “About my sister, telling me she was pregnant. And a moment later, I remembered just a few words of the conversation. I think my memory is coming back.”
He clearly heard the frost in her voice too. He hesitated, then said, “That’s great, Maddie.”
“Is it?” she whispered. “I mean, of course it is. But look, I’m already mad at you.” And none of the good humor and levity of earlier was anywhere in her now.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Because Jenna and Stephen waited because of me and then felt bad about deciding they couldn’t wait anymore. I know. I felt horrible about that. You felt horrible about that.”
“I’ll bet. And if I’m mad at you from just a piece of one memory, imagine how I’ll feel when I have them all?”
He gave something of a nod. “Ignorance isn’t really bliss. Maybe for a few days, yes. But it’s not reality. I want you to have your memory back. That’s the real you, Maddie. And the Maddie who knows everything is the Maddie I love. The Maddie I said I’d have ten kids for.”
“You say that like it’s a plus.” Again.
“I say it because, to me, it tells me loud and clear how much I love you, that having you is more important than anything—including my feelings about having children.”
“We had this conversation and got nowhere,” she said.
Defeat crossed his face. “You know how many times those exact words came out of our mouths over the past year? A million.”
“No doubt,” she said. When Sawyer had told her they’d been in mediation with a marriage counselor, she hadn’t thought much of it. Now she could barely imagine Sawyer talking about his marriage and the problems between them with a therapist. With anyone. They must have hit rock bottom—the sleeping separately, the stony silences. “I’ll call Dr. Addison in the morning and let her know about the memory. I started getting a little bit of a headache, so I think it’s my brain’s way of telling me not to push it.”
He nodded. “You’ll be back to yourself in no time, Maddie. And that’s what we want. Warts and all.”
Except he looked a little nervous about that. As nervous as she felt. She liked the way things were, crazy as that sounded. She felt cherished by this man, by her family. She had an immediate purpose in caring for the newborn twins. She felt cocooned and happy. And as the memories came back, who knew how she’d feel? Angry? Sad? Worried? Unsettled about knowing she’d have her deepest wish fulfilled—to have a baby—only because Sawyer had bargained with the universe and was a man of his word?
Oh yeah, she had a definite feeling Maddie who remembered would not be okay with that.
* * *
Sawyer sat at the desk in his home office, Moose lying by his feet, gnawing on a rawhide bone. He’d come in here to check the database connected to the WCPD for the name Russtower, to find out why that surname on his Holiday Happymakers form rang a criminal bell. But he hadn’t gotten further than going to the WCPD site. He kept thinking about Maddie and her memory returning.
One small memory had fought its way to the surface of Maddie’s mind and the two of them were already in that off-kilter place. Maddie had turned in early, at barely eight thirty, and he wasn’t sure if the memory had made her tired or their conversation. Probably both. But her going to bed while he was downstairs felt like old times. In a bad way.
He’d thought telling Maddie about the bargain he’d made when he’d been keeping a bedside vigil would solve the problem. She wanted kids; he’d have ten if only she wasn’t taken from him. She’d survived the accident, and now he was making good on his word. But it wasn’t enough for Maddie-who-couldn’t-remember. According to her, at this point it was less about the agreeing to start a family and more about the wanting to. But wasn’t it a compromise? Wasn’t that what marriages were based on? Give and take. Finding ways to keep each other happy.
As if he had all the answers. He wasn’t getting this right—that was about all he knew for sure.
He heard a cry through the baby monitor next door in the living room and took the stairs two at a time to make sure another shriek didn’t wake up Maddie. In the nursery, he found Max waving his arms and scrunching up his face. Sawyer reached in and took him out, checking his diaper, which felt reasonably dry, and then holding the baby against him while he walked around the room, rubbing the tiny back.
A memory of his own popped into his mind. An image of Cole trying to make him a mug of hot tea. Sawyer had been sick with a bad cold and home alone when Cole’s mother had uncharacteristically dropped him off at the Wolfe apartment, angry about something and not checking if their dad was home. Sawyer had been using scratchy toilet paper for tissues, his nose red and raw, and Cole had asked if he should go to the drugstore and get Sawyer tissues and medicine, but the store was too far for Cole to walk. Cole had taken it upon himself to make Sawyer tea, and at ten years old had done a semi-decent job, even if he’d put in way too much sugar. Apparently that was how his mother liked her tea.
“Your daddy has a good heart,” Sawyer whispered to Max. “Same as I do, even if I don’t want kids. No offense,” he rushed to say. “If you’re staying, I’ll take good care of you. I already love you. So no worries, okay? I’ve got you covered.” Saying all that exhausted him, and he sat in the glider chair, staring down at the alert little guy in his arms.
Max stared back.
“You’re really quite beautiful,” Sawyer whispered. “A perfect little being. You just happen to need everything. Love, nurturing, protection, sustenance, shelter.” The blue eyes gazed up at him, full of curiosity. His chest felt tight, and he felt a lump in his throat. “How about a story?” He reached for a board book on the table beside the chair, but given his position and the way the baby was nestled, he couldn’t quite reach it. “Made-up one by Uncle Sawyer, then.”
Max still stared up at him, and Sawyer wondered what the baby was thinking. Could babies think? Beyond feeling? He’d have to look that up. Or ask Reed Barelli or Theo Stark, the resident baby experts on the WCPD. Reed had toddler triplets and twin one-year-olds. Theo had quadruplet toddlers. Bot
h men knew more about babies than your average bear.
“Okay, so once upon a time there were two brothers named Sawyer and Cole,” he said, then hesitated. Had he meant to say that? Guess so, because it had come out of his mouth. “Where’s this gonna go?” he asked Max, who was clearly getting so bored by the asides that he was now looking nowhere in particular. “Their dad used to tell Sawyer that Cole probably wasn’t even his kid, and that anyone could have green eyes and dark hair,” he said. “But Sawyer knew Cole was his brother, just knew. Even if they’d looked nothing alike, he’d still know, because that was how it was. You just knew some things.”
What the hell was he saying? Was it okay that he was being so honest—out loud? He was aware that you were supposed to talk to babies to boost their brain power and language-processing skills. But it wasn’t like Max was actually following what Sawyer was saying, so it seemed okay. He’d text Reed or Theo later and make sure.
“I guess there’s some stuff I’ve always needed to get off my chest,” he whispered, and Max looked at him and wrapped his little fist around Sawyer’s pinky. Sawyer almost gasped. “I’m surprised you like me, but you seem to. I guess I’m doing all right by you and your brother, though.” The baby held on, his grip surprisingly tight.
For a moment, Sawyer just stared at this magical little being, wondering if he might be dreaming this all up. He attempted to pinch his arm with his one free hand, and he felt it, so this must have actually been happening. I’m talking to a newborn. My nephew. Telling him my life story. His father’s life story. Would wonders ever cease?
“Should I continue the story? Yeah? Okay. So the two brothers, Sawyer and Cole. Cole wanted to be closer to Sawyer, and Cole tried hard to get through for a while, but Sawyer was a stupid preteen and not too interested. Then Sawyer wanted to be closer to Cole, but Cole had no interest. They were never on the same page at the same time. Things get complicated, and people and stupid stuff get in the way.”
Such as his dad’s girlfriends not wanting another kid around. Cole’s mother screaming into the phone at their dad to the point that he’d blocked her calls. And his and Cole’s own stupid bravado, not wanting the other to know how much it all hurt. And it had.
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