Twins on the Doorstep

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Glad that you agree,” Miss Joan said in a tone that indicated there was no other path open to either of them except to agree with her. “Why don’t you go with Cole and help him?” Again, there was no room for argument. “He certainly can’t manage those babies by himself.” Before either of them could protest or even comment, Miss Joan asked Cole, “How did you get them over here?”

  That he could answer, he thought, relieved. “In my truck.”

  Miss Joan gave him a withering look. “I realize that. How did you get them over in the truck?”

  Cole thought for a second. Miss Joan’s interrogation had been known to make many a person’s mind go blank. “I secured the basket with ropes and looped them around the passenger seat.”

  Miss Joan’s eyes shifted toward Stacy, the expression on her face indicating that her point had just been made. “Keep an eye on those babies for me,” she instructed Stacy.

  “I can help,” Eva volunteered, stepping forward.

  Miss Joan obviously had other ideas about the transport. “Too many cooks spoil the broth,” she told the young waitress before looking at Cole and Stacy. “I’m sure these two can manage, working as a team—the way they used to,” she added significantly.

  Stacy took back her earlier assessment. Hotel or no hotel, nothing had changed in Forever.

  The hotel, she suddenly remembered. “I can’t go to the clinic.”

  Miss Joan’s expression darkened. “And just why’s that?”

  “Rebecca just hired me a few minutes ago to work the reception desk,” she said quickly, then blurted, “Elsie just found out she’s been accepted to college.”

  Miss Joan looked unconvinced. “College is not for another eleven months,” she pointed out.

  Stacy shook her head. She could feel Miss Joan beginning to run right over her. “No, she’s going in January.”

  Miss Joan’s expression remained unchanged. “Still got time.”

  Determined, Stacy pushed on. “I know, but she was all excited and took off, quitting right then and there. I told Rebecca I’d take the job.”

  Cole looked at her in surprise. “You need a job?”

  Stacy really didn’t feel comfortable discussing anything personal in front of Cole. Not after the way things had gone between them. But with everyone—especially Miss Joan—looking on, she had no choice. She couldn’t exactly ignore him.

  “It kind of came up,” she finally said. “My house burned down, so I’m staying at the hotel.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, “Why didn’t you come to me?” but in a way he had a feeling that she had, looking at the infants. “If you need a place to stay...” he began.

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly, cutting him off. “But I just said I have a place to stay. The hotel,” she stressed. And then she remembered that she’d only popped over for a quick bite. She needed to be getting back. “Speaking of which—”

  There were those who insisted that Miss Joan was part mind reader. Stacy had a tendency to agree.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Miss Joan said, cutting in. “I’ll send Rachel over to the hotel to explain what happened. This is September,” she reminded the young woman. “Not exactly the busy season for the hotel, so Rebecca should be okay with you not being there for an hour. Or so,” she added significantly.

  Stacy felt as if things were snowballing out of her control.

  “But—” she began to protest.

  As if on cue, the babies began to fuss in earnest, each growing progressively louder than the other, as if it was some sort of a pint-sized competition.

  Miss Joan nodded toward the infants. “I guess you have your marching orders,” she told Cole and Stacy. “Now go. And I don’t want to hear anything about you using a rope,” she told Cole. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Miss Joan,” he replied.

  It was easier that way than getting into an argument with the diner owner. Legend had it that no one had ever won an argument with Miss Joan, and that included her husband, Cash’s grandfather. But then, Henry Taylor had doted on Miss Joan, which, it turned out, was exactly the right way to get along with the woman.

  * * *

  “YOU REALLY FOUND these babies on your doorstep?” Stacy asked several minutes later.

  She had gotten into the back seat of his truck and he had handed her the wicker basket with the babies. The infants were dozing and the silence in the truck felt overwhelming. Stacy couldn’t think of anything else to say, and every other topic would set them off on a course she had no desire to travel.

  “Yes, I did,” he answered, getting into the driver’s seat. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

  As if she didn’t know where he found the babies, he thought.

  He was staring at her, Stacy realized, and it took everything she had not to squirm in her seat. This was a totally bad idea, going with Cole to the clinic like this. But no one said no to Miss Joan and Stacy wasn’t about to be the first. She had no desire to have her head handed to her.

  “Do you have any idea who the mother might be?” Stacy asked him.

  Okay, Cole thought, he’d play along. “There might be a few possibilities,” he responded vaguely. “But that’s why I came with them to Miss Joan. She’s always on top of everything and I figure that she’d be the first to know whose babies they were.”

  “Miss Joan doesn’t know everything,” Stacy insisted.

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “But right now, I figured she was my best shot.”

  Why are we playing these games, Stacy? Tell me the truth. Are these babies mine?

  For one moment, he wrestled with an overwhelming desire to ask the woman in the back seat just that. It would explain why she’d left town so abruptly. But he knew asking her was pointless. He knew her. She wouldn’t answer him. In all likelihood, she’d just walk out on him the way she had the last time.

  And, angry as he was about her leaving him, he didn’t want that happening again. Not until he’d had a chance to talk with her—really talk.

  Desperate for something to say, he fell back on what Miss Joan had said when she’d first greeted Stacy.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your Aunt Kate,” he told her. “What happened?”

  “She died,” Stacy said stoically.

  Why are you acting as if you care? We both know you don’t. You don’t care anything about me or about Aunt Kate, so stop pretending.

  “I realize that,” he said, doing his best to be patient. “That’s why I said I was sorry to hear about her.” Getting his temper under control, he asked, “Did it happen while you were in Europe?”

  She looked out the window on her left. “Yes.”

  He felt pity stirring within him. “That must have been awful for you, having her die and having no one to turn to.”

  She blew out a breath. She didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want anything from him. Still looking out the side window, she said, “I managed.”

  “We’re here,” he announced, and just like that, the topic was closed.

  For now.

  Chapter Four

  Rounding the truck’s hood, Cole came to the rear passenger door and opened it before Stacy could. Bending down, he got a firm grip on the wicker basket and drew it out of the truck. The babies were just beginning to wake up again.

  “I’ll get the door,” Stacy volunteered, sliding down off her seat as soon as he had the basket. Before she hurried to the clinic’s front door, she paused to look at the babies. One of them was beginning to squirm just enough to throw the basket’s weight off while Cole was carrying it. “You want help with that—um, with them?” she corrected.

  Was it his imagination, or was she trying too hard to appear unaffected by the sight of the twins? For now, Cole dismissed the
thought, but it continued to hover in the back of his mind.

  “Just get the door,” he told Stacy. “I’ve got the basket.”

  For the briefest of moments, Stacy allowed herself a fleeting smile.

  “Yes, you do,” she said, adding, “You surprise me.” When he raised an eyebrow in silent query, she explained, “I didn’t think you’d be any good with babies.”

  He supposed he could see her point. She hadn’t been there to see him with either Devon’s baby or the one Cassidy rescued. “I guess we never know what we’re capable of until we’re confronted with the situation.”

  “I guess not,” she agreed.

  It hurt, Cole thought, talking to Stacy like this. The only thing that would hurt more would be not being able to talk to her. When she’d suddenly taken off the way she had, he’d thought he would never see her again. He hadn’t understood just what hell he’d been in these last eight months until just a few minutes ago, when he saw her walking into Miss Joan’s.

  Lord, but he’d missed her.

  Cole cleared his throat. “Just get the door,” he told her gruffly.

  Stacy squared her shoulders as she pulled open the front door, then stepped to the side as far as she could, clearing the space for him. The basket was obviously unwieldy, despite his efforts to hold it steady, and she didn’t want Cole dropping the babies.

  The second they walked in, they became the center of attention.

  As usual, the clinic was full. It was the only available medical facility within a fifty-mile radius, so everyone who had a complaint of some sort, or found themselves in need of a checkup, came here. These days there were two doctors on the premises, as well as two nurses. Even so, the clinic was open from around eight, sometimes earlier, until eight, sometimes later. The doors were never officially locked until every patient in the waiting room had been seen.

  Initially, the din in the clinic today was a little louder than usual, with fragments of conversations crisscrossing through the air. All that came to an abrupt, startled halt when Cole walked into the reception area carrying the wicker basket with the two babies in it. The fact that Stacy, his former girlfriend, came in right behind him was missed by no one.

  Jackson’s wife, Debi White Eagle, was behind the desk when they walked in. She immediately rose to her feet, ready to help Cole with the infants he had in the basket.

  “Cole, what have you got there?” Debi asked, even though she was actually looking at Stacy when she asked the question.

  Cole appeared almost sheepish as he explained, “They were on the doorstep when I left the bunkhouse this morning. I really could have used you,” he added, looking at Debi.

  Debi had crossed the reception area and was beside him now, getting a closer look at the babies.

  “Well, you seem to be doing all right with them,” she told Cole with approval. “Whose babies are they?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cole admitted.

  His response had a room full of patients murmuring to one another.

  “There was no note?” Debi asked, looking from Cole to Stacy.

  Cole shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered.

  Stacy merely shrugged. “I wasn’t there.”

  “If you ask me, I’d say it’s finders keepers.” Ted Reynolds, an old ranch hand, chuckled.

  “The poor darlings,” Amanda Rice, the grandmother of three, cooed as she came over to join the widening circle of people admiring the babies. “Where’s your mama, darlings?” She raised her eyes to look at Stacy. “And when did you come back into town, Stacy?” she asked warmly. “You’ve been missed,” the older woman told her.

  “Did you bring the babies in for one of the doctors to examine?” Debi asked, wanting to take control of the situation before things got out of hand.

  “Well, yes,” Cole confessed, “but I didn’t think that there’d be this many people here already.” He looked at Debi apologetically. “I’ve got to get back to my family’s ranch—”

  “Well, if it helps, you can go ahead of me,” Ted Reynolds volunteered. “I’ve got no real plans for today. Nothing that can’t wait, anyway.”

  “And me,” Amanda said. “You can go ahead of me,” she told Cole. “At my age, the best part of coming in to see the doctor is socializing with whoever’s waiting on him, too.”

  Several other voices chimed in.

  “I can wait,” another patient spoke up.

  “So can I.”

  “Me, too. This is the first break from work I’ve had in over a month,” Jeremy Jones said to no one in particular.

  Debi held up her hand before anyone else gave up their place to the babies. There were a lot of people in the waiting area and if they all spoke up one by one, this could take a while.

  She looked around at the seated people. “Can I assume that it’s all right with all of you if I just let Cole go on ahead and bring the babies in to see the doctor?”

  A cacophony of voices rose in response to her question. The gist was that the patients in the reception area were all in agreement about letting Cole go in first.

  Debi turned toward him. “All right, Cole, you heard them. The people have spoken,” she told him cheerfully. “I guess that’s why I love living in this town. Everyone’s so bighearted.

  “Let’s get these little darlings checked out. Boys or girls?” she asked, leading the way into the back where the exam rooms were located.

  “One of each,” Cole answered. As he started to follow the nurse, he looked back over his shoulder toward Stacy. “You coming?”

  She was about to beg off, saying something to the effect that it seemed as if he and Debi had the situation covered. But that wasn’t strictly true. She knew that Debi had to return to the front desk and even though the other nurse, Holly, was somewhere in the clinic, that still left Cole on his own to cope with two babies. One was probably hard enough for him.

  Stacy sighed. She supposed that staying a little longer wouldn’t hurt, especially since Miss Joan had said she’d get word to Rebecca at the hotel, explaining about her delay. Given her present situation, the last thing she wanted was to lose her job before she actually started it.

  “Yes,” she answered, raising her voice, “I’m coming.”

  Debi opened the door to exam room three. Like the other exam rooms that had been renovated in the clinic, this room was bright and cheery, designed to put the patient in it at ease. Although, Stacy thought, in this case, it really didn’t matter.

  Debi took out a clipboard with two blank forms attached to it. “Since this is obviously their first visit, I’d normally ask a few routine questions about the patients so we could put the information into their charts.” She looked down at the infants and then back at Cole and Stacy. “But I don’t suppose you’ll be able to answer any of those questions, will you?”

  “What kind of questions?” Cole asked, trying to be as helpful as possible.

  “The usual ones. Name, date of birth, parents’ names, things like that,” Debi enumerated.

  Feeling a little helpless, Cole had to shake his head. “Can’t help you there. You know as much about them as I do.”

  “That they’re cute?” It was a rhetorical question on the nurse’s part, asked with a wide smile. “Well,” Debi decided after pausing a moment to think, “at least we can put down their weights. Get this little one undressed so I can put him—her—,” she corrected once the blanket was unwrapped and Cole began to remove the diaper, “on the scale.”

  “Aren’t they going to get cold?” Cole protested.

  “They’re not going to be on the scale for that long,” Debi assured him.

  Stacy was still trying to understand how all this was going to come about.

  “How are you going to—oh.” The question Stacy had about weighing an infa
nt was answered when she saw Debi place the baby on what looked like an old-fashioned butcher’s scale.

  Debi smiled, obviously guessing what was going through Stacy’s mind. “Might not be state-of-the-art equipment, but it gets the job done for these little ones.” After jotting down the number from the scale, she lifted the naked infant and handed her to Stacy. “Definitely not undernourished,” she pronounced. “That’s a good sign. Why don’t you put her diaper and blanket back on and I’ll weigh the other one,” she told Stacy, then turned her attention to the second infant. “You said this one’s a boy, right?” she asked Cole.

  “Right,” he responded, glad to be able to contribute at least something to the process. “Rosa fed and diapered both of them before I came here. That woman’s fantastic.”

  “That’s exactly how we feel about her,” Debi agreed. “Don’t know where we’d be without her.” Once she’d removed the second infant’s blanket and diaper, she placed him on the scale. He whimpered in protest. “Guess he doesn’t care for the feel of metal against his skin.” She jotted down the weight she read on the scale, then glanced at Stacy. “How’re we doing over there?” she asked.

  It was obvious that Stacy was having more than a little difficultly in putting the diaper back on the infant.

  “I don’t know about we,” Stacy said, exasperated, “but I’m not doing too well.”

  The infant seemed to be all moving arms and legs and Stacy was having trouble getting the diaper to stay on her.

  Putting down the second chart she was filling in, Debi made quick work of rediapering the first infant. Stacy looked on, chagrined.

  “It just takes practice,” the nurse said matter-of-factly.

  “How’s this?” Cole asked, holding up the baby he’d attempted to diaper.

  As if on cue, the diaper began a rather quick descent down the second infant’s chubby little hips.

  “You’ve almost got it, Cole,” Debi told him, taking the baby from Cole and quickly refastening the diaper tabs.