“Not shopping,” he said, looking offended. “We can go right out back. I can cut it down with a chainsaw, drag it through the woods with my bare hands.”
She grinned up at him, sliding her arms around his waist and up his muscled back. “Do you have a chainsaw?”
He sighed. “No. You’re killing my manly plans.”
“I’m sorry. You never mention you wanted to be a lumberjack.”
“Mmm.” He nipped her neck. “I have another idea. Don’t go home tomorrow.”
She pulled back to look at him.
His face was serious now. “The airport will be a nightmare with this weather.”
“A nightmare, huh? You might be right.”
“So change your flight.” He cupped her bottom, pulling her up against him. “Stay.”
“Daddy!”
“Think about it,” he said, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “I’ll get the minions.”
AFTER LUNCH, AND WHILE the boys slept, they bundled the girls up for a second romp in the snow.
“Daddy, I can’t breave,” Maci mumbled, under the layers of snowsuit, hood, and scarf.
“Hang on just another second. Can’t have my baby girls getting cold.”
Clare did the same with Margo, and when the four of them were sufficiently wrapped and covered, they bounded into the cold and white.
After nearly an hour of snow angels and snowman building, they went inside and stripped off the layers. While she nursed the boys, he read the girls a story and got them down for a nap then joined her in the kitchen for hot chocolate.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. “My brother,” she said. “And shoot. He’s called three times. Probably wants to make sure you’re not holding me captive.”
“Maybe I am.” He smiled, and she smiled back.
“I’ll go call him back and try the airline again.” The first two times she’d called, she’d given up after ten minutes on hold.
As she climbed the stairs, guilt had her calling her brother first. She’d only sent him a short text saying she was going to Ohio.
“Clare,” he answered after one ring.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Are you still at Deacon’s?”
“Yes. Sorry I never called. The trip was crazy. You wouldn’t believe it, and now we’ve gotten so much snow here. It’s beautiful. You should see Deacon’s girls. They’re over the moon.”
“Clare—”
“I’m thinking of staying an extra day or two. There’s just no reason to fight the nightmare of cancelled and delayed flights.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“What? Why?” She bent to pick up the blanket that had fallen off the side of the bed.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Is something wrong?” She froze. “Is it Dad?”
“No, he’s fine. But I do think something’s wrong.”
“You think so? It’s not like you to be so indecisive,” she teased.
“It’s about Deacon. I found out some stuff.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just hear me out, okay? I know a guy in the police department.”
She heaved out a sigh. “Connor—”
“Just listen. I just asked my friend to dig around a little. It was before I met the guy, and I was worried. He didn’t even sound like he was going to do it, but he got back to me last night.”
“And?”
“And I don’t think you know the whole story about him.”
“Okay.” She sorted out the baby things with spit-up. She’d need to do a load of laundry if she was staying. “What’s the story?”
“There was a restraining order against him. By the date of it, you could surmise it was from the mom of his other kids.”
“Okay.” He had her attention.
“How much has he told you about her?”
Not much, she thought. “I know she’s not in the picture. That she never has been.”
“Did he tell you he paid her to have his daughters? Went to her house and harassed her to the point she issued a restraining order? Made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, he just wanted the babies, then demanded she hand over custody?”
Clare sat down on the edge of the bed, a burp cloth in one hand, the phone gripped against her ear. She swallowed. “How does your friend know all this, Connor? Where is he getting this?”
“It’s all in her statement in the order. Clare, I don’t think you know him as well as you think. I want you to come home. Get on a plane and come home, or I can come get you.”
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
“Come home today.”
She pressed two fingers to the twitching pulse just above her right eye. “I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. I told you. Flights are cancelled and delayed and—”
“Clare,” he said tightly. “He met her at a conference. That was also in her statement. Met her at a conference and got her pregnant. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
She heard him but didn’t want to. Blood thundered in her ears.
“Clare?”
“Yes. I heard you.” She needed to talk to Deacon. She wanted to hear it from him. “I’ll call you back.”
She ended the call and stood, looking around the room. Had it all been too good to be true? Her suitcase was on a chair in the corner, and she suddenly felt the need to collect her things. She threw in her black booties on the floor by the bed. She’d let herself get too spread out here. Too at home.
“Hey.”
She spun to see Deacon leaning in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh.” She turned back to her suitcase, away from his hopeful smile. “Just getting my stuff together.”
“Did you get the airline?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Oh.” He stepped farther into the room. “I thought I heard you on the phone.”
She picked up her hairbrush from the dresser. She put it down, straightened it. Despite herself and everything good he’d shown her, the doubt shoved its way in. Another conference. Another woman. One who’d meant little to him, one he hadn’t known well.
Was she just another? Was she not seeing what was right in front of her? Again?
“Well, if you’re staying, you don’t really need to pack. Why don’t you call the airline first?”
“I’m not sure I should stay.” She picked up her sweater from the chair in the corner.
“Why not? Is there a reason you have to go back?”
Was there a reason? Did she have a life outside of this? Or was this her life? Before Deacon had come back into her life, she’d been strong, she’d had plans. She was taking care of herself and her babies.
“Clare. Can you stop and tell me what you’re doing?”
“My brother called.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Is it your dad? Is everything okay?”
“My dad’s fine. It’s not that.”
“So why are you leaving?”
“I’m not leaving. I’m getting my stuff together. My flight’s tomorrow morning and—”
“So you’re leaving.”
“No.”
“Well, you’re not staying.”
She stared into her suitcase. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“And I asked you why.”
She heard the frustration in his tone and struggled for the right words, afraid she didn’t want to ask because she was afraid to hear the answers.
“Connor told me some things.”
Deacon leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. “What kind of things?”
“About the girls.” Even as she said it, a part of her brain said No, he’s done nothing to deserve it. There’s no reason to question him. But how could she not ask?
“What girls? My girls? What in the hell would he have to say about them?”
Stupid, but the way he said my girls hurt.
“It
was more about their mother.” She raised her eyes to his. “He said you met her at a conference? That she had a restraining order against you?” She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch before he ran a hand roughly over his face.
Deacon let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Sit down, and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” She felt sick at her stomach.
“Clare.” He heaved out another long sigh, cursed under his breath. “Will you please sit down?”
She sank onto the edge of the bed, holding her sweater like an anchor the way Margo carried her blanket around when she was tired.
“I did meet Natalie at a conference,” Deacon began. “In Pittsburg. And I had a drink with her. That’s all. Unlike with you, I was able to concentrate on the reason I was there, which was work.
“She got my number, and I didn’t think much more about it. A few weeks later she contacted me. She lived between here and Pittsburg, and we saw each other for a few months. It ended. I ended it. Then she contacted me again, maybe a month later, to tell me she was pregnant and that she was having an abortion. That’s how I found out about my daughters.” Pain joined the anger in his face.
“I don’t even know why she told me, just to get back at me for breaking things off maybe. She could have just done it and I would have never known, and that haunts me still. And what else? The money? Yes. She said she was close to landing a modeling contract, and being pregnant would mean she wouldn’t get it, so I gave her money. When she found out she was having twins, she asked for more. I gave her more.
“For the next seven months, I was a wreck. Worried every day. Was she going to the doctor? Being careful? Taking vitamins? Hell. I didn’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “She called me once around four months saying she’d changed her mind and she wasn’t having the babies. I went over there. There was a guy, a new boyfriend…We got into it, and I guess that’s what led to the restraining order.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t want to talk about her. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Angry that my girls don’t have a mother and blaming myself. And mostly because I didn’t want you to think exactly what you’re thinking now. Clare. Look at me. Whatever was in that report, however it looked, that’s not how it was. And it’s sure as hell not what’s between us.”
“I just can’t make another mistake. I’m a mother. I have to be more responsible than to just jump wherever my heart wants to leap. I can’t do that anymore.”
“And you think I’m a mistake?”
“No. I don’t know. It’s not you. It’s me—”
“Oh, please.” His mouth twisted. “Don’t give me lines. I don’t need them. If you don’t feel the same, just say it.”
Unshed tears burned in her eyes. “That’s not it.”
“Then don’t leave.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“I mean why am I staying? Because it would be easier? What am I staying for exactly?”
“I thought that was obvious when I said I was in love with you.”
No, she thought. Nothing’s obvious to me. And that’s my failing, not yours.
Deacon drew in a deep sigh, and she was afraid he was about to say this wasn’t worth it. Not worth the trouble.
“In some ways, it would be easier if you were here,” Deacon said. “Or if I were there, for both of us. And yes, that means being with the boys, too. I can’t separate the two. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. He shouldn’t have to separate the two. “Maybe it should be obvious to me,” she finally said. “There’s just this fear inside me and…”
“And what, baby?” He came to her then, took both her hands in his.
“Remember I asked you at the beach, how do you know when it’s real and you said you didn’t know?”
“I do now. But you don’t,” he said.
“No. I don’t. And I don’t know how to trust your feelings when I can’t even trust my own.” When she met his eyes again, she would have rather seen almost anything but the disappointment.
“So maybe this is all a mistake, then. Maybe I just thought I was in love with you, but now I’m not, or tomorrow I won’t be. Is that it?”
Her face fell. He dropped her hands and took a step away before turning abruptly back.
“Damn it, Clare. Do you really think I’m that unsure of my feelings? That I don’t know my own mind? What would be a mistake is us trying to build a life together while you’re over there with one foot out the door, waiting every day for me to come home and say, oh sorry, I changed my mind.”
But it had happened before. Didn’t he understand that?
Easy to love, easy to leave.
Just then, there was a cry down the hall. One of the girls. He glanced out the open doorway then back to her.
“Did you ever think that maybe you weren’t so wrong about Adam?”
She sniffed and stared at him. “I beg to differ. I think I was pretty wrong.”
“No, you missed my meaning. I mean, maybe you never really thought he was right? Maybe you’ve never really thought any of them were right.”
When there was a second cry for Daddy, he dropped his head. “I’ll be right back.” He stopped in the doorway and looked back. “You’ve been fighting this all along, long before your brother called. It’s not a matter of it being real, Clare. It’s a matter of you not having the faith to believe in it.”
* * *
WHEN HE WAS GONE, Clare walked to the window. She leaned her forehead to the cold glass. More snow was falling. She could leave with her sons. His sons. That felt wrong. She could stay and jump. She could barely see the trees she’d walked through last night with Deacon. Though obscured and indistinct, she knew they were still there, just as tall, just as strong. Just as real.
Deacon was right and she couldn’t stay in the middle. One foot in, one foot out. Coming or going.
And hadn’t she known, deep down, that Adam wasn’t right? And the others? So maybe she hadn’t been so wrong. And didn’t she more than anyone know how rare it was to find a love that made your heart tremble? That if you found it, you should grab hold with both hands and not let go?
She breathed and stared out at the white-blanketed world. She had to make a choice, and it was her choice. Either she believed in their love, or she didn’t. And if she didn’t, she should say so and walk away.
And there was something else when she looked close enough. Well before Deacon, even before Adam, she’d more than wanted love, she’d believed she needed it to be happy and complete. That had changed. She’d accepted her life, fallen in love with her sons. She drew in a long, cleansing breath of truth. She could be happy. But Deacon made her happier.
Minutes passed, and she heard his soft footsteps behind her then felt him standing close, but he didn’t touch her.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. It was Maci. As soon as I convinced her to close her eyes, she drifted right back. Clare. Look at me.”
She turned, looked.
“Do you honestly believe I’d say any of these things to you if I thought there was any chance of changing my mind? Would I take that chance with the girls? Because as much as I want you for myself, I want you for them, too. You may have been looking for it, may have had a lot of missteps, but I never thought I was in love until you. Wasn’t even particularly looking for it. And then I found you.”
She opened her mouth to say he wasn’t a misstep. That she was terrified, but not too terrified. Not too afraid to jump over the edge with both feet and trust him to catch her. But the words caught in her throat as she stared into the palm he held out to her.
There, lying in his big hand, was the tiny button from his shirt. The little circle of plastic that had started it all.
“You kept it,” she whispered. She hadn’t been wrong back at the beach. He had cared.
“I did.”
“All this time.” She looked up, her eyes m
eeting his, and it blew through her like a storm. All this feeling, so much it took her breath, and she wondered how people lived with this, how they could possibly carry this much love for someone else inside them.
“All this time.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “I love you, Clare. Always.”
When she laid a hand to his chest, he covered it with his own, holding it right over his heart. And with the rhythmic thump, thump, thump, her mind quieted. His heart beat in time with the quick, hard pulse of her own. She felt the truth and the certainty in every beat, in his eyes holding hers. And when her heart finally opened up, it was like freedom. “I love you.”
His arms came around her like steel bands, and she felt love, strong and sure, flowing both ways. It was the most real thing in the world.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Deacon Montgomery. With all my heart.”
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, CLARE knelt on the airport floor, holding Maci and Margo in a hard hug goodbye.
“But you’re coming back?” Maci asked.
“Yes. I’m coming back. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Tears hung on Margo’s lashes. The little girl had maybe just started to feel what it was like to have a mother, and now she was leaving.
“How do I know?” Maci asked, breaking Clare’s heart.
Clare looked up at Deacon then back to both girls.
“Because I love you. Look in my eyes.” She took Maci’s little hand and put it on her heart. “Do you feel that?”
Maci nodded.
“I love you. That’s how you know.” She blinked back her own tears and kissed both girls’ cheeks. “We’ll be back for Christmas. Well before then.”
“In time for our pwogwam?”
With Maci’s hand in hers, she straightened, felt Deacon’s arm slip around her. “When is it?”
“It’s the fourteenth, but you don’t have to—”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” They’d never had a mother at a dance recital, school program, or birthday party. Deacon had told her they’d recently asked why. Not why don’t we have a mom, but why don’t we have a mom at our program? She figured those were the things that made a mom. Being at things. Reading stories. Kissing boo-boos.
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