The Mountain Man’s Babies: Books 1-5

by Love, Frankie

  Breathing deeply, I try to quiet the fear bubbling inside of me. And just when I think maybe I can get through this, I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen.

  I press my hand to my stomach again, feeling the beginnings of contractions. The familiar pain of labor.

  But this is much too soon.

  I fall to my knees, eyes closed, head to the ceiling. Please let my baby be okay.

  I start to pray for a miracle, but instead, I get a savior.

  I'm on my knees, biting back the ache.

  I've almost lost all hope, not believing he would find me.

  But he is here.

  "Cherish?" James whispers from inside the kitchen. My James. Here.

  I gasp and call out his name. My deepest wish, my only desire—he is here.

  He pulls off a ski mask, a gun in his hand. He reaches for me, but before I can fall apart in his arms—another contraction rips through me.

  "I need a doctor," I tell him.

  "What's wrong?" he asks, worry in his eyes, his hands refusing to let go of me.

  "I'm pregnant," I tell him. "But it's too soon."

  He lifts me into his arms, looking like a man on a mission. I'd be terrified of getting caught, but right now I'm more terrified of what will happen to our child if we stay put.

  As we leave the kitchen, not knowing what we’ll find—a SWAT team surrounds us.

  Police lights blaring, officers with guns in the air.

  James raises a hand and drops his gun.

  A shot goes off in the dark and something warm blooms across me.

  It's not me, though, that has just taken a bullet through the chest.

  James.

  My James.

  He's been shot.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  James

  The trip to Montana was blurry eyed and Red Bull fueled. It was loud music keeping us awake and our eyes on the prize.

  Cherish.

  Finding her. Bringing her home.

  Finally closing the chapter of our lives that took up more space than it should.

  When we get to town Jonah and I stop and assess the plan, our route. We get some food, and buy a few ski masks, and get ready to crawl on our hands and knees into the compound. We park the car and hike in a little ways so as not to draw attention to ourselves.

  Jonah is my backup, and with swift movements, we make it inside the compound. The property is large, but we've memorized the hand-drawn map from Grace and find our way to the kitchen. We don't see anyone, or hear anyone, and thank God for that. But as I walk through the back door, into the place Cherish supposedly lives, a sense of dread washes over me. It's all too good to be true.

  The first thing I think when I see her on her knees, head back, chin lifted, is that she’s praying. Which surprises me in and of itself. I stopped believing in the God of our childhood a long time ago. It's not that I don't believe in some higher power now... but it certainly isn't one carved from the cross our fathers wanted us to believe in.

  No. If I believe in anything anymore, it isn't found on my knees with my eyes wide shut. No. What I believe transcends that small-minded idea of making women weak to feel powerful, it's more than judgment.

  I believe in grace and I believe in forgiveness and, most of all, I believe in the power of love.

  So, when I see Cherish on her knees, for a split-second I wonder if she and I have lost our way on the long stretches of distance over the years. We've had a singular afternoon, a much-too-short night... What we need is a lifetime, a repeat of our childhood. We need never-ending lengths of time to learn about one another, to laugh and grow as one.

  But the idea that she and I grew apart is fleeting because when she turns and sees me, I see she wasn't praying to the God of our childhood at all—she was praying for a miracle.

  Cherish is in pain. Her beautiful face is written in it. Her hands shake, she clutches her stomach.

  She calls for me and I come to her. I will always come to her.

  With her in my arms, I leave the kitchen, hearing her plea for a hospital, understanding the urgency in her voice.

  But before I can get her anywhere, we see police vehicles surrounding the premises, Jonah is in the distance with his arms behind his back. And I drop my gun, needing the officers to understand that I’m on their side. The lights are blindingly bright, but before I can shield my eyes, a shot fills the night.

  And everything changes. The burn of the bullet is hot and cold at the same time. It sears into the right side of my chest, and I fall to my knees, gripping Cherish in my arms, and I find myself kneeling the same way she was only minutes ago.

  Now I’m the one praying for a miracle.

  "James," she sobs, "James," she cries. Her hands are on my face, and then she reaches for my hand, pressing it to her belly as blood pours from my body. "Don't let go. Don't give up. Feel this, it's your child. I'm carrying your baby, James, and you need to hang on. For us." She clutches my face again, staring into my eyes, as my world goes black. "No," she cries, as more bullets are shot around us, as I fall to the ground, and she hovers over me, her own body seizing as she cries out—because she is carrying her own pain.

  On the ground, the night goes dark and Cherish looks into my eyes, wracked with sobs, ripping at my shirt. Begging me to hold on.

  Hold on.

  Hold on.

  God only knows what I'd be without you.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cherish

  In the hospital bed, I wake with a start. Screaming before my eyes adjust to the light in the room.

  "James?" I scream. I clutch the bed sheets. Blood on his shirt. A hole in his chest. His eyes closing. Being pulled away.

  Kicking and screaming as my body contracted.

  Body.

  Contracting.

  I press my hand to my belly.

  Is my baby still with us?

  I shake, terrified. Alone. Screaming for a nurse. "Help me. Help," I call. An IV is in my arm, I am attached to all sorts of machines.

  "It's okay," a soothing voice tells me. But they don't understand. Nothing is okay.

  "Where is James? I need to see him." I try to get out of the bed, but the nurse is at my side, pressing a hand on my arm, trying to settle me. But she doesn't understand. This can't be settled with a whisper, with a calming tone—I need James. James alone.

  "I understand," the nurse says. Her nametag reads Betty but her name means nothing to me right now.

  There is only one name.

  One name.

  One.

  "Where is he?" I ask again.

  Betty nods as if understanding. "He’s in recovery."

  I choke on my own tears, on relief. On hope.

  I haven't lost hope.

  "He's alive, then?"

  Betty nods. "Yes, and if he hadn't had you in his arms, he might not be.”

  "What do you mean?"

  "You gave him something to fight for, sweetie."

  Betty checks my chart, lifts my gown, and adjusts a heart monitor on my belly.

  A heart monitor. I look at the screen Betty is reading. My heartbeat quickens. "Is my baby alive?"

  She raises an eyebrow, twists her lips. She's an old woman, and with her sure movements and quick adjustments to my IV and monitor, I'm guessing she has delivered bad news a thousand times to patients.

  She wouldn't twist her lip to tell me I'd lost my child.

  Would she?

  "What is it?" I plead. I need to know that my baby is okay, I need James back in my life, and I need to get home to my triplets.

  It's been so long since I've seen their faces.

  A sob escapes me, missing my children so deeply, having lost so much.

  Scared I am losing more.

  "Oh, dear, I didn't mean to worry you. I know you have been through so much. Everyone is talking about it. The local news channel has been reporting the story for hours. That compound wasn't just holding women hostage, they were practicing polygamy, embe
zzling money from the IRS and forcing teens into marriage."

  I clench my jaw—knowing most of that. My shoulders sag, knowing so much of my life has been lost to a false religion.

  "But Cherish, there is good that has come of your James rescuing you."

  I lift my eyes to hers, searching for understanding.

  "The FBI has seized the entire compound. Whatever horrible things were happening out there has been put to rest."

  "How?" I shake my head still confused.

  "I don't know all those details, dear." Betty shakes her head. "I shouldn't be saying all this anyway. Don't you want your happy news?" She taps the screen that is monitoring the heartbeat of my child.

  "It survived?" I ask, already knowing it has. I feel the baby move inside me. "I was on bed rest my last pregnancy. But this time... I haven't been to a doctor and worried it was all my fault but I was so sca—"

  "Shhh, it's okay. The heartbeats are strong— just like yours, and just like James's."

  I bring a hand to my mouth, biting my knuckles in relief. "Thank God."

  "But that isn't all." Betty raises her brow again.

  "No?"

  Betty shakes her head ever so slightly. "As far as we can tell, you must have been praying for a miracle."

  I smile to myself, knowing that is exactly what I have been praying for.

  "You are having triplets, again," Betty tells me. She pulls over the ultrasound machine and presses the wand to my belly. "See?"

  Three little bodies light up the screen. It's beautiful, I never saw an ultrasound image with my last pregnancy, never having gone to a doctor besides our midwife.

  "Triplets?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity. At the wonder of it all. "And they are okay?"

  Betty nods. "You'll need to be on bed rest, but if you can manage to do that for the rest of the pregnancy, you'll be able to go home. Though I’m sure the doctor will tell you all of that."

  "And James?"

  Betty pats my arm. "When he's out of recovery, we’ll make sure the two of you—" She gets cut off. Another nurse pokes her head in the room.

  "Betty, he's out of recovery." She looks at me and smiles. "You’re one lucky woman everyone is talking about!"

  I don't know if she is referring to the fact I was freed from a cult not once, but twice, or the fact I'm carrying triplets for the second time.

  But then the nurse looks at me again. "The babies are lucky, of course— and so is the fact you are alive at all. But I was meaning you are lucky to have a man like James. He is one handsome—"

  Now it's Betty who cuts her off. "Dana, that is completely inappropriate."

  But I don't mind.

  I know just how handsome James is.

  I fell in love with him when I was just a girl, and under the oak tree he kissed my lips for the very first time and offered me his heart.

  I didn't know how to take it then, how to hold on tight to the gift it was.

  But now I know what I was unable to see when I was young.

  A love like this is found once in a lifetime.

  And I was lucky enough to find it with my best friend.

  And I will never, ever, let go again.

  Epilogue 1

  James

  She always said she was rain clouds—that I was the one who looked like blue skies and sun-tea. And maybe that was true before... but now?

  No way in hell is that what I see.

  Because when I look at her, in our cabin, with our three newborns swaddled, two in her arms, and one in mine—I see nothing but a radiant smile, her eyes beaming with pride. I see the woman I cherish, the woman I have and the woman I promise to hold—forever.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, her voice soft, her eyes bright.

  "Because all I can think when I look at you is how goddamn lucky I am," I tell her, sitting beside her in our bed. I kiss the head of the son in my arms. She is holding both girls in hers.

  "You haven't stopped complimenting me since we left the hospital in Montana months ago."

  "You mean the night my life began for the second time?" I run my finger up her bare arm. She's in a tank top and leggings, her hair recently chopped to a short bob—the first real haircut of her life. I love her short hair—a literal weight was lifted, sure, but a metaphorical one too. She isn't carrying so much anymore.

  She’s learning she doesn't have to carry anything alone, ever again.

  She shakes her head, her hair swishing as she does. "You're going to regret being so nice to me. There’s no way I can ever catch up to how good you are to me. I mean, for months I've lain in bed while you've watched Jamie, Andrew, and Jacob. You've been on mom duty and dad duty—and never once have I heard you complain."

  I place the sleeping baby in the bassinet beside the bed, and take the swaddled ones from her arms and rest them beside their brother.

  "I've had help all this time. Jonah and Josie, not to mention Grace." I sit beside her in our king-sized bed, wrapping my arm around her.

  Cherish nods. "I know. But still, I wish I could make it up to you."

  I cup her face with my hand. "Soon enough," I tell her, grinning.

  She sighs, then bites her bottom lip. "The babies are two weeks old. But soon enough they will be two months old. And then," she says. "Then I will make it up to you plenty."

  I kiss her lips, breathing her in, grateful to have her beside me. And of course, ready to take my woman hard and fast—but knowing we are going to need to take things very slow. We haven't slept together since she was rescued, the night I took a bullet; the night the FBI raided the compound.

  After Jaxon got the story out of Grace—the day Jonah and I took off for my girl—they called the police. Apparently, the FBI had been looking for a location on the cult that the Lord’s Will joined forces with. They'd been running a gun cartel for years, embezzling money too— and they were the ones who took a shot at me before the FBI took them all down.

  The entire compound has been dismantled, families displaced—children taken into custody of the state—and for that, we are all grateful.

  But Cherish was put on bedrest... so even though she was only five months along, and in other circumstances, we would have been able to enjoy the fact we were finally together—and whole—but we were forced to abstain for her health.

  "Before we make love for the third time in our lives, we have to take care of a few things though," I tell her.

  "Oh yeah?" She narrows her eyes and suppresses a laugh. "Like make sure I'm on birth control?"

  I grin. Six babies under two are plenty. But I shake my head because that's not what's on my mind. "I'm not talking about that."

  "Then what is it?" she asks as I reach into my pocket.

  I pull out a ring and hold it between my thumb and forefinger.

  "I'm talking about you making an honest man out of me. About you becoming my wife."

  She covers her mouth with her hands, tears in her eyes.

  "It's about damn time, wouldn't you say?" I ask. "I've been in love with you since you made me mud pies when we were four. Since you offered me your song book when we were seven. Since we pinky swore we'd be best friend for the rest of our lives. I've loved you as long as I knew how to run, and Cherish, you are the only girl I ever wanted to chase. I want you to be my future, and I'm the luckiest man to have had you for the entirety of my past. As the Beach Boys would say, we could be married, and then we'd be happy."

  She shakes her head. "I don't need to be married to be happy with you, James."

  "But wouldn't it be nice?"

  She laughs through her tears. "Yes, James. Yes, it would."

  "So, you'll be mine?"

  "Always. I'll always be yours."

  I slip the ring on her finger and start counting down the days until Cherish is my wife.

  Epilogue 2

  Cherish

  I wear a white dress and a veil. And I'm barefoot—though not pregnant!

  It's July, and
our youngest babies are three months old.

  And while I'm no virgin on my wedding night... James and I haven't slept together since our babies were conceived.

  The doctor cleared me a few weeks ago... but we decided to wait.

  After all, we'd already waited long enough.

  I walk down the aisle in our back yard. Our property has a massive oak tree—because of course, it does. And there is no better place for James and me to exchange our vows.

  Everyone is here. Jaxon and Harper of course. Wilder and Stella—who, bless her heart, decorated my new home with magazine-worthy perfection. There are Buck and Rosie, and Honor and Hawk. And everyone's children. At this point, there are so many, it is hard to remember which little goose belongs to whom.

  This mountain may be jokingly called the fertile mountain, but I like to think about it a little differently.

  The couples here, at my wedding, have committed to the thing that matters the most in this world. Family.

  And so ours grow at a ridiculous rate.

  The definition of a miracle is a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws.

  So, I don't call this place the fertile mountain—I call it the Miracle Mountain.

  And I don't know about religion or God or what happens after this—my head and my heart still have a lot to unravel about all that... but I do believe in miracles.

  God only knows what I'd be without you.

  James is under the oak tree, guitar in hand, and he is singing Wouldn't It Be Nice, a song we learned together, the lyrics truer today than ever before.

  The first time I heard his voice, I thought he sounded like a sunny day, and as I walk down the aisle toward him I know he doesn't just sound like a ray of sunshine—he is my happily ever after.

  Jonah marries us, he went back to Miami after the dust settled, and came up for the babies’ birth, and now he’s here for the wedding. Everyone’s trying to convince him to stay… we all know how Josie is pining for him still after all these months. Grace is up front here too, with our year-old triplets. She’s not only been my faithful friend, but she’s been our live-in nanny.