She’d gotten to know him at Paul’s wedding. In addition to being an amazing photographer, he was also a kind, generous and sensitive human being.
“Very. We’re lucky people.”
He set his camera on a small table and gave Meg a long, warm hug. “Me, most of all. I can’t begin to thank you for—”
“Shh…not yet. We have a multitude of hurdles to clear before we get a green light. So, let’s keep it between us until we have good news, okay?”
He nodded. “I told Flynn. My brother. Did Mia tell you he’s transferring to Montana? He’s in Kentucky, now. So, no chance he’ll blab. But he told me to tell you if this works out, you’re his hero.”
Meg touched her fingertips to her chest and smiled, but, in all honesty, she didn’t feel heroic. Just the opposite.
If she were being honest, she’d have to admit this gesture was completely self-serving. She wanted to experience pregnancy and give birth to a baby. She’d dreamed of this her whole life.
But dreams changed. Meg also wanted a life with Henry and his grandchildren, who for all practical purposes would become their children once she and Henry were married and Meg moved to the ranch full time.
Annie already slipped on occasion and called Meg, “Mommy.” Something Meg hoped to make permanent when she and Henry adopted all four. She unconsciously crossed her fingers.
“What are they talking about?” she asked, nodding toward their significant others.
“My guess? Paris.” He winked, then stepped away, picked up his camera and took half a dozen shots of her.
Meg was still chuckling when she walked up behind Henry and gave him a squeeze. “Hello, handsome. Is this flashy lady in red bothering you?”
Mia rolled her eyes.
“As a matter of fact, your sister just gave me some very good news. Amazing, strange, crazy coincidence kind of news,” Henry said, twisting to one side so Meg could sidle up next to him.
“Tell me.”
Mia made an offhand gesture. “I talked to D’Vede today.”
“You called him?”
“He called me. He was a little embarrassed. After going off on Henry at Christmastime, threatening to take the kids and all that, he decided the timing wasn’t right.”
Meg looked at Henry who made a face she knew well. “David is moving to Paris. Apparently, some gallery saw his work online and invited him to do a stint in their Artist in Residence program.” He looked at Mia, a definite twinkle of mockery in his eyes. “Or should I say ‘arteest?’”
Meg looked across the room at Ryker. Everyone knew he’d lived in Paris for a time and had many continental connections. “Is this legit? He won’t get there then turn around and come back when it turns out to be a hoax, will he?”
“Totally legit,” Mia said. “You should go online and check out his work. It’s not bad. Some of his nudes are pretty impressive.” She looked at Henry and added, “Your daughter had good taste in art. But lucky for us, he can’t parent worth a crap. And that goes for his mother, too.”
Meg held up her hands waiting for more.
“When I asked D’Vede if his mother was giving up her claim, as well, he told me she’d met someone new and was going to Barbados for New Year’s Eve. So, we shouldn’t plan on hearing from her for awhile.”
“Wow,” Meg said, a sort of letdown sensation rushing through her veins. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry with joy.
Henry pulled her into an embrace, and they stood for several minutes, letting the news sink in, until Mia asked, “So, when are you going to make the big announcement?”
“What big announcement?” Austen said, walking up to join them.
Big mouth, Meg mimed to Mia.
Oops.
“Your sister and I are getting married,” Henry said, simply. Firmly, in case anyone took exception to the idea.
Austen looked mildly surprised, but he held out his hand. “There’s a lot of that going around. Congratulations.”
“On Sunday at one o’clock,” Meg added.
“What? Why so fast? Are you pregnant?”
Meg threw back her head and laughed. “Not yet. But, Henry has four children, and we want to set a good example. So, I’ve lined up a Justice of the Peace.”
“I fixed the runners on the sleigh, and JJ’s been practicing driving the rig so he can ferry guests out to Laurel’s knoll—a spot on my land that my daughter loved—where we plan to say our vows.”
“It sounds perfect,” Mia said. “We’ll be there.”
“You’re all invited,” Meg told her brother, “but don’t break your necks trying to get there. We’ll throw a big party in the spring and invite the whole county.”
To share Mia and Ryker’s good news, as well, she thought. By then, with any luck, their baby would be safely and comfortably gestating in Meg’s womb.
Austen exchanged a look with Mia. “Twin-speak,” Meg used to call it.
Then he gave Meg a big hug. “Congratulations.”
She knew he was happy for her…in part because he was happy, period. And they all had Serena James to thank for that.
After he let go, he walked to the center of room and tapped his champagne flute with a fork. “Everyone. Your attention, please. We’ll start serving dinner in fifteen minutes. Buffet-style in the kitchen. The beef is mine. The gourmet veggies are all Serena’s parents, and we can thank Peyton and Macklin for the amazing appetizers.”
His guests all clapped but he cut them off with a staged cough. “A couple of other things. I just spoke with OC Jenkins in the barn. Your children are fine. Most of them, anyway.” He grinned to show he was kidding. “They will be constructing ice cream sundaes as soon as they’re done grinding the old-fashioned ice cream maker my brother unearthed in a storage room at Big Z’s.
“So if any of you had plans to have sex tonight, I suggest you do it before your darlings consume more sugar in one hour than they normally get in one year.”
Meg saw several parents blanch, but nobody left the room.
Austen polished off his champagne as if for courage, then he made a come-here motion to Serena who was watching from a few feet away, a highly amused smile on her face.
“I know you’ve all met Serena by now, but, in case there’s any doubt, I want you to know that Serena James is the love of my life. My pathetic excuse of a life until she came into the picture and rescued me.”
He dropped to one knee with the debonair air of a dancer and took her hand. “I’ve asked Serena to marry me about a hundred times, but she just laughs and tells me she’ll think about it. I’m hoping that if I put her on the spot in front of fifty of my closest friends and family, she might feel pressured into saying yes.”
Meg’s heart was pounding hard on his behalf. The risk was great. Everyone who knew Serena knew she was an independent person who didn’t feel the need to meet other people’s expectations.
But when he looked into his beloved’s eyes, all joking disappeared. Austen’s heart was right there in the open for all to see. He’d bared his soul in a way few politicians would dare to do.
No one made a sound until Serena nodded, ever so slightly. Then she clamped both hands on her hips and said, “Wait. First, show me the ring.”
Austen fished the biggest diamond Meg had ever seen out of his pocket and presented it to her. Serena’s lips parted and her eyes filled with tears. “I was kidding. This is too much. Austen…”
He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Nothing’s too much for you, my love. But we can exchange it for something different.”
“Maybe a little smaller…and fluffier?”
Austen laughed and shook his head. “Woman, you have alpacas on the brain. Say yes, I promise to help you build the best alpaca herd in the land.”
She slipped the diamond on her finger without a second glance and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
*
Many hours later, with Meg behind the wheel and Hank’s head a little fuz
zy from all the congratulatory toasts he’d consumed, and their three youngest children out like the dead, Hank reached across the empty center console to touch Meg’s knee.
“Are you sure it was okay to leave JJ with Paul and Bailey?”
“Yes. Markie needs a friend, and JJ—even though he’s a couple of years older—is a good match. They’ll be best cousins, I think.”
Best cousins. Hank liked that idea. He’d never been close to any of his aunts and uncles or cousins because they all lived in South Carolina and New Hampshire. And living in the country had made having close friends a challenge.
Face it, he thought, I was a lonely kid. And adult, his conscience added.
But now, his life was full and rich and bigger than he’d ever imagined. He let his head fall against the headrest and closed his eyes.
Instantly, an image of Laurel on horseback popped into his head. She was ginning ear-to-ear and waving. He tried to place the time and location, but then he realized she wasn’t waving to him.
“Goodbye, Daddy. Be happy,” she called. “I love you.” A moment later another rider joined her. Jacob.
They’d always made the perfect couple—petite Laurel and big, strong Jacob. Hank swore he’d seen sparks fly the moment the two met.
He was glad they’d crammed so much living and loving into their short time together.
See, Daddy, we’re still together. Just like you and Meg.
Laurel’s voice sounded so real in his head, even though he knew he’d never hear her voice again.
“Damn French champagne,” he muttered.
“Headache?”
“Probably will in the morning. Just thinking about Laurel.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not surprising. The way you described her knoll where we’re going to say our vows made me feel as though she were still alive. I love having that connection to her, Henry. You have to promise we’ll never let that fade away.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What if her spirit goes away on its own?”
“Then, it will be up to us to keep her memory alive for her children.”
“And Jacob’s, too.”
“Good point. I’d love to hear more stories about him.”
Henry couldn’t think of a single one at first. Then, strangely, the words started to flow, as if the young man he’d loved like a son was sitting there listening. And laughing.
“Jacob laughed a lot. He grew up alone mostly. Didn’t have a pot to piss in, as they say. Reminds me of OC’s story in a way, but Jacob never drank. Not even a beer. He said life was too short to miss any of it by getting drunk.”
The memory of Jacob’s example had helped Henry stay sober after Laurel left.
They drove most of the rest of the way in silence, except when Meg mentioned the gossip she heard from someone in the know.
Apparently, big changes were taking place within the Search and Rescue hierarchy. A former SAR administrator who was on leave pending investigation of an alleged burglary charge had been arrested on child pornography charges.
Henry shook his head but didn’t say anything. He was glad to let the whole matter go and know they’d never have to think about or mention Ken Morrison’s name again.
As Meg pulled into the Silver Springs’ driveway, Henry looked around with a feeling of satisfaction. Maybe he would have a legacy to leave his grandchildren after all. With Meg at his side, anything was possible.
Meg and her family.
The Zabrinski clan was a force to be reckoned with, he’d decided. By the time they left the party, Paul had made Hank promise to talk seriously about combining Big Z’s Outdoor Recreation plans with Hank’s Silver Springs Agro-tourism experiment.
“I see big things happening here together, man.”
“Your brother is exuberant.”
“Paul? Yes. He loves people, Montana and selling stuff. And Bailey.”
Hank liked all the women in the Zabrinski family, but possibly Bailey most of all. He’d immediately recognized another survivor when he met her. She’d lost a lot, but, like Hank, she kept moving forward. And her perseverance finally paid off. She and Paul were expecting a baby in a couple of months.
“With our wedding announcement and Austen’s proposal, I think you were smart not to bring up the surrogacy.”
“I know. Mia’s dying to tell people, but I want to keep it on the down low, just in case.”
She parked in a spot that once was reserved for Laurel’s car. She didn’t turn off the engine right away. Instead, she turned—her silver dress sparkling like iridescent jewels in the dash lights.
“You know me, Henry. I’m thirty-nine. There’s a chance the IVF won’t take…or it might take a couple of tries. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“All I know is you look twenty-five and I can’t wait to get you inside and out of that dress.”
She batted his hand playfully. “You have daddy duty first. Two for you and one for me?” she asked nodding toward the sleeping threesome in the back seat.
“Sounds perfect. And I’ll open the tailgate for Rook.”
As Meg helped Henry gather Annie and Bravo in his arms, she paused to hug him fiercely. Never, in a million years could she have predicted this outcome to their story.
Once she had Mystic’s carrier in hand and the truck was locked, she turned to follow Henry—the rancher who once thought she was out to ruin his life. Instead, the man she’d secretly admired from afar so many years ago turned out to be her mate.
The lone wolf found her pack. She paused on the porch to look at Rook standing guard in the middle of the snowy moonlit yard. The big dog looked over his shoulder at her then lifted his head and let out a sweet, some-might-say mournful howl.
To Meg, the sound was music to her ears—an affirmation that she’d found her place in the world. Then, she turned and walked inside to her new life and the man she loved with all her heart.
Epilogue
‡
“Are you sure I’m in labor? The C-section is scheduled for Monday. My doctor doesn’t want to deliver twins vaginally.”
“Oh, well,” the labor and deliver nurse said, her focus on the two heartbeats that sounded loud and strong. “These babies know what they want, and they’re ready to come out.”
Meg looked at her husband, her panic starting to recede now that they were in the hospital instead of the big box store where Meg and Henry had been stocking up on food for Henry to cook while she was laid up.
Meg’s obstetrician had been clear when the sonogram at eight weeks showed two viable fetuses floating in her womb. Two. Twins.
Why Meg was surprised was probably the biggest surprise of all. Yes, the possibility had been discussed, but she hadn’t taken the idea seriously because from the very beginning her only goal was to conceive.
“Let it work. Let it take. Please, God, let us get lucky the first time out the gate.”
And their prayers were answered. Ryker’s energetic sperm loved Mia’s recently unfrozen eggs. They mingled and hooked up and several were planted in Meg’s highly prepared womb.
Then all parties waited. And waited. And finally, they knew the procedure took.
Then the real wait began. Along with morning sickness, ridiculous fatigue and virulent ankle bloating. Luckily, Meg walked every day to Laurel’s knoll and back.
The sickness passed. Her energy returned. Along with her appetite, and her imagination.
She ate and wrote. Her book blossomed, right along with her belly. And once she could no longer see her ankles, she gave up fretting about them.
“Did you reach Mia and Ryker?” Meg asked Henry, her husband of ten months.
“Yes. They were at some kind of game with one of the kids. I couldn’t hear because your mother was screaming so loudly. I don’t know if it was for the game or because you’re in labor.”
Her mother and father had returned from Arizona in early May and promptly sold their motorhome.
“We’re retiring
from being snowbirds,” Mom said. “We decided we miss out on too much when our family is here and we’re in the desert. I can’t believe Meg got married without us present.”
If Meg heard that complaint once, she heard it a hundred times, which was why she and Henry held their “Celebration of Wedded Bliss” on the first Saturday in June.
A month later, on the Fourth of July, Mia and Ryker got married near the river on their property, in plain view of the gorgeous new home that was under construction.
With white tents and caterers to beat the band, they feted a huge crowd dressed casually in swimsuits and cover-ups.
That evening, after exchanging vows, they set off one of the most impressive fireworks display most people in Marietta had ever seen.
A pain so far removed from the Braxton-Hicks contractions she’d been experiencing for two days started in her low back and wrapped around her middle like a psycho bear hug.
She gritted her teeth and groaned until it passed. “Who’s got the kids?”
“Bailey, Serena and Louise. I think Paul and OC are taxiing people wherever they need to go.”
As if on cue, Meg’s phone made the beeping sound that told her a text had arrived. She picked it up and read out loud: “Let the pains do the work. Don’t hold your breath. Go with the flow.”
It was signed Mother of Yoda.
Meg snickered…until another pain started. This time she tried implementing Bailey’s advice. She tried not to tense, and the sharpness seemed less intense. “That helped.”
“She should know.”
Bailey had been in labor a grueling eleven hours before giving birth to eight-pound ten-ounce Arya Clementine Zabrinski—who came out red, wrinkled and hungry. Paul, perhaps most unwisely, immediately dubbed his new daughter, “Yoda.”
Arya presently was the cutest, bossiest baby Meg had ever met—and the center of the whole family’s attention.
But, Arya was about to get some competition from Nina Colette and Royce Martin. If the scans were correct, Mia and Ryker soon would have one of each sex, to complement the two Mia already had.
The nursery of their new home was more jungle motif than traditional pink and blue. The walls came alive with gorgeous color photos from Ryker’s travels: zebra, lions, a baby elephant and Meg’s favorite, a baby hippo that looked like it was blowing bubbles.
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