by Kaitlyn Rice
Abby woke up, stumbled off the couch and headed for the bedroom to see which one needed her. By the time she’d crossed the threshold, she remembered. Jack had taken Wyatt.
It had required all the self-control she could muster to help that man through his troubles yesterday, when all she’d wanted was to go over there and bring Wyatt home.
Lifting Rosie off the mattress, she hummed softly. The baby began to quiet immediately, but Abby knew she was probably hungry. It was six o’clock, about the time the babies usually woke up.
Trudging into the kitchen to pull a bottle from the refrigerator, Abby warmed it, then wandered back to her rocker with both baby and bottle. She settled in for a while, watching Rosie drink.
Yesterday’s events kept replaying in her head like a nightmare. Jack had really taken Wyatt. And then he had called her all day long, reminding her constantly that his knowledge of babies could fit on the wing of an aphid.
She wondered how Wyatt had slept last night, or whether he had slept at all. A brutal stab of longing pierced through her heart, starting her tears falling again.
She let them flow, reassuring Rosie that crying was healthy and healing. The sweet girl looked at Abby as if she understood the pain, seeming oddly wise—until she reached up with chubby fingers and clenched Abby’s nose.
Abby’s responding chuckle caused Rosie to smile back and kick her feet in happiness. And for all her innocence, she provided a wealth of comfort.
After Rosie had been fed, burped, bathed and dressed, Abby let her play on the floor with a bowl of plastic fish while she gathered some things in a diaper bag.
Yesterday had proved that she couldn’t wait for serendipity to solve her problems. Jack had no business trying to fit a sweet little boy into his self-absorbed lifestyle. Paige wouldn’t have wanted that, no matter what the will said, and now it was up to Abby to make sure it didn’t happen. Somehow.
She wanted nothing more than to raise both twins together, on the farm in the country. After all, that was a modified version of her lifelong dream.
Ever since she was a young girl, a country life was what she had envisioned for herself. She’d wanted to marry some dark-haired, faceless man, raise a yardful of kids and animals, and grow flowers.
Many of the childhood games of “let’s pretend” she had played with her sister had revolved around that theme.
After her divorce, Abby realized her fairy tale would never include the dark-haired man. She’d made a foolish choice once, and she didn’t trust herself to try again. But she’d never forgotten the rest of the fantasy.
Her sister had been more successful in starting down all the right paths, but she was gone now. It was only fitting that Abby should carry on pursuing their shared hopes.
If only she could convince Jack to give up Wyatt.
A few minutes later, she drove down the long dirt lane to the eighty-year-old-house she’d loved most of her life. Jack’s silver two-seater sports car was parked haphazardly in the drive, with his familiar blue cap resting on its hood. He’d beaten her here.
She parked behind him and hopped out to pull Rosie from the back seat. A whistle sounded, and she whirled around to find Jack watching from beside a massive white column of the wraparound wooden porch.
His hair was as unruly as ever, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved today. The dark stubble turned his eyes impossibly blue, and a loden-green sport shirt showed off his wide chest. He looked handsome in a homey sort of way. In fact, his relaxed approach to grooming only sparked her interest more.
He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
“You make that look easy,” he said.
“What?”
“Getting her in and out of that seat. It took me a long time to figure out those straps again after I got Wyatt to the hotel yesterday.”
“Where is he?” she asked, just now realizing that Jack wasn’t carrying him.
He pointed to his car. Whether from overprotectiveness, or a complete lack of trust, Abby was peering through the car window within seconds.
Wyatt was in his car seat, sound asleep. The cracked window provided adequate ventilation, and the morning air was comfortable for early August. The boy was in no danger, but still…
“How long have you left him in there?”
“Less than two minutes,” Jack said. “He was asleep when we got here, so I came up to look around on the porch.”
Abby squinted at him, wondering if he was being truthful. After yesterday, she wouldn’t be surprised if Wyatt had been left much longer. Jack might be some guru computer consultant, but he knew nothing about babies.
“Go ahead, touch the hood of the car,” he said with a raised brow. “It’s probably still warm.”
“That’s not necessary.” She sniffed and carried Rosie onto the porch. Once there, Abby foraged through her purse with one hand, searching for the door key.
“Let me help,” Jack offered, holding his arms out.
Reluctantly, Abby handed the baby over just long enough to locate her keys. Neither he nor Rosie seemed to mind the exchange. He smiled sweetly into the baby girl’s face, provoking a sweeter smile from Rosie, and a string of syllables that sounded something like, “Bibibibi deek?”
Ignoring Jack’s chuckled response, Abby opened the door and stepped inside. Subdued light from an overhead window set off the foyer’s original wood flooring, and somehow the house smelled fresh, despite the fact that it had been closed up most of the past two weeks.
Maybe it was an illusion—she’d always felt welcome when she walked through this doorway—but now just being here put her at ease. As if she’d come home.
Jack followed her inside, with Rosie prattling happily in his arms. “Why don’t I get Wyatt and put him in his crib?” Abby offered. “It’s still set up in the nursery.”
Without waiting for a response, she jogged back outside and lifted Wyatt from the car seat, cuddling him close as she returned.
Jack had disappeared into the house with Rosie, so she headed upstairs to the nursery. She put Wyatt into his own crib and backed quietly away.
At the doorway, she switched on the baby monitor and took the receiver with her. She found Jack and Rosie in the kitchen, looking out the French doors into the greenhouse Abby and Paige had built last year.
Jack was speaking gently to the child, holding her up so she could see out. As soon as Abby walked into the room, he turned and said, “The flowers are thriving out there. Have you been keeping them up?” He shifted Rosie to his other arm, already seeming adept at holding a baby.
Abby’s heart fell; she’d been counting on his complete and continuing discomfort with kids.
She put the receiver on the table and went to claim her little girl. “I have,” she admitted. “I had been helping Paige start a commercial cut-flower business, and I couldn’t let it all go.”
“Didn’t your family know the man who owned this place?”
“Mr. Apple Man,” she began, and paused to chuckle at herself for the mistake. “That’s what Paige and I called him when we were growing up, because of the orchards. Actually, his name is Larry Epelstein. When he got too old to run the place, he offered to sell it to us, cheap. He wanted to be sure someone got in here who would take care of his trees.”
“Everyone in your family has a green thumb, don’t they?”
“Guess so,” Abby answered, gnawing at her lip as she looked out at the colorful melange of flowers.
She’d need to water them today, and some of the varieties would need deadheading. She hadn’t found the energy to get the blooms to market lately. If things didn’t improve anytime soon, perhaps she never would.
Jack touched her arm. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we talk now?”
Still staring out into the greenhouse, she considered why it felt as if he held her very life in his hands. He seemed to hold a balance of power here. He had Wyatt, and the land the orchards were situated on. She knew Rosie and the house were every bit as valuable,
but there was one difference.
Abby wanted what he had.
Pretending a courage she didn’t feel, she wandered over to the antique oak table that dominated the middle of the kitchen. “Guess now’s as good a time as any,” she said as she slid into a chair with Rosie on her lap.
Jack sat across from her, and actually smiled when Rosie started fussing. “Well!” he said. “It’s good to know that you can make yours cry, too.”
Abby swallowed a bristling retort and forced herself to smile back. “She probably just wants to play,” she said. “There’s an activity center in the nursery. I’ll sneak up and get it.”
She plopped the crying baby back into Jack’s arms and grinned at his swift change of expression. Now he looked close to tears.
She ran back up to the nursery, reminding herself all the way of how much more effective she’d be if she kept her cool.
After she lugged the toy back down to the kitchen and put Rosie into the seat, her sobbing stopped. But the knowledge that she and Jack were assured a few minutes of peace did little to calm Abby’s nerves.
“Okay,” she said, tugging at the neck of her T-shirt as she sat down again. “Where should we start?”
“I did a lot of thinking last night,” he said as he frowned at his hands, which were folded on the table. “We need to work out a way to keep the twins together.”
Abby felt a rush of relief so profound that she hopped up to kiss him. It was nothing more than a hasty smack on the cheek, but as soon as she did it she realized her mistake.
His beard scraped against her lips, making them feel soft and pouty. And he smelled incredible. Manly, like some bracing man’s soap, or like ocean air. She hadn’t experienced that sort of smell in a long, long time.
A deep, urgent response walloped her so powerfully that she immediately closed her eyes and collapsed back into her chair. When she opened them again, she realized he was checking out her chest.
Apparently, her kiss had affected him, too. Or perhaps he was always ready for an opportunity to check out a female body. Even Abby’s.
She crossed her arms in front of her. “Sorry,” she said. “You caught me by surprise.”
His crinkle-eyed gaze floated leisurely up to her face.
“Hey, don’t ever apologize for kissing me,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “I just don’t know how to do it.”
“Um, do what, exactly?”
“Keep them together.”
“Oh, of course,” she said, sweeping her gaze to the precious baby girl she’d managed to forget for an instant.
“I’m not ready to give up my place in Kansas City,” he explained. “It’s a phenomenal town home, near the heart of the business district. Many of my clients have offices nearby.”
“Are you planning to leave Wyatt here?” she asked.
Perhaps her hopes were coming true. If he would sell her the land, too, her dreams would be tied up with a tidy bow.
“No,” he said, dashing her hopes abruptly. “I’ll stay a year as Brian requested. If you run the orchard, the proceeds can go back into the farm. Next fall, we can talk about a fair price for the land, and a way to keep Wyatt and Rosie in contact. Things might be easier by then.”
“Maybe.”
Jack ran a hand along his whiskery jaw, staring out at the greenhouse. “I could sublet the town home….”
Abby listened as he thought out loud. Since he was moving things in her direction on his own, she decided to let him ramble on before she butted in. Maybe he’d realize he should just leave Wyatt here with her. Forever.
“…and find a place around here. You know of anyplace?”
She thought of the land surrounding the farm. There was a cattle ranch on one side and a wheat farm on the other. She shook her head. “There’s nothing to rent out here.”
Wyatt’s howl exploded into the room, causing Jack to jump out of his seat. “Hot damn—” he began, then glanced at Rosie. “Hot dang, what is that racket?”
Abby clicked off the receiver. “Just the baby monitor.”
He stared at the device. “Why is it so loud?”
Abby was already headed for the stairs. “A bad habit,” she hollered back. “This house is so big I’m afraid I won’t hear them, so I turn it up full blast.”
Wyatt quieted almost immediately when Abby picked him up.
She used one of Rosie’s diapers to change him, and then carried him back downstairs, thinking all the way.
She loved this baby. She wanted to be near him every single day and night. She’d do anything to achieve that goal.
Anything.
When she got back to the kitchen, she handed Wyatt to Jack, then lifted Rosie out of the bouncer and laid her belly-down on the floor. “This is when a high chair would come in handy,” she said. “Paige was thinking about getting one, but the babies only started eating solid food a few weeks ago.”
A frown creased Jack’s forehead. “Is Wyatt hungry?”
“No, but one baby could sit in a high chair with a couple of toys while the other took a turn in the activity center.” Abby took Wyatt and deposited him in the toy’s seat. “It’s just another source of amusement for the twins.”
Wyatt immediately started bouncing and batting at colorful knobs. “You were just ready to play, weren’t you?” she crooned.
Opening a cabinet drawer, she pulled out a couple of toys and tossed them in front of Rosie, who propped herself up on sturdy arms to grab a set of plastic keys.
When she dropped them, they produced a clacking sound that must have pleased her, because she snagged them right back up and began hitting them repeatedly against the terracotta tiles.
“If I can find a big enough apartment, I could run my business from there,” Jack said as Abby returned to the table. “There’s bound to be something suitable in town.”
“Or we could both move in here,” Abby suggested, wondering even as she said it if she was completely insane. “This house has plenty of room for an office, and we could switch off duties so we’d both have time to work.”
“You mean we’d live together as roommates?” Jack asked.
“Of course,” she said, trying with all her might to make the suggestion seem like no big deal. Even though it was. A big deal.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he murmured, staring at her with a bemused expression. “I could set up my office here easily enough, but don’t you work at a flower shop?”
“My parents own a flower shop in town,” she corrected. “I work at a garden supply warehouse, but I was thinking of quitting, anyway. I could pay my share of the bills with the profits from the cut-flower business.”
“Hmm,” he said, pushing out his bottom lip and toying with the whiskers underneath. “I like this idea more and more. The babies would have both of us around for a year and by the end of that time they’d be easier to manage.”
“Um-hmm,” Abby said, worrying about the idea more and more. Could she and Jack actually live here, together?
He might not know her from a garden of weeds, but she was painfully aware of his vitality. Always.
She also knew he led a pretty active social life. Would he want to bring his women here? She began to imagine a revolving door of various women, coming in and out of the farmhouse and cooing at the babies before they vanished into Jack’s room to coo some more.
“Sounds cozy,” he said, breaking into her angst.
“Doesn’t it, though?” She feigned composure, but her alarm grew exponentially as her idea hurtled from impetuous to barely conceivable to likely. And remained, all the while, quite impossible.
CHAPTER THREE
ABBY HAD HAULED seven loads of her belongings past the burned-out front porch light before she finally decided to change it. She had just dragged a kitchen chair outside and perched on top to make the adjustment when her new neighbor, Sharon Hauser, hollered from inside. “Donation box, or new location?”
Sharon’s matronly figure filled the d
oorway. She held a bean-pot lamp on one hip, and Wyatt on the other. Her usual smile was missing as she stared at Abby’s precarious pose.
Abby held up the bulb and light cover, and chuckled when her friend’s big, gummy smile returned. Though Sharon had at least fifteen years on Abby, she was on the same wavelength. Sometimes words weren’t necessary.
Abby finished the job and hopped down. As she carried the chair back in, she said, “I asked you here to help with Rosie and Wyatt. I can finish unpacking.”
Sharon jiggled both baby and lamp, prompting a happy squeal from Wyatt. “Shush,” she told Abby. “Scrap or keep—that’s all I need to know.”
Abby knew not to argue. She squinted at the lamp. “Keep,” she answered. “Put it on the table beside the sofa.”
Sharon swept the lamp and the giggling Wyatt off toward the living room, and Abby headed off in the other direction to cart the chair back to the kitchen.
Her helpful new friend was well on her way to becoming a cherished old friend. She had appeared on that very same porch the morning after the accident, and she’d been just as obstinate then about lending a hand. She’d pushed her way in behind a pierogi casserole, explained that she was the wife of the farmer down the road, and had commandeered the babies and the kitchen duties so Abby could deal with the tragic news.
That morning, Abby had been too stunned to argue. She’d been baby-sitting the twins the night before, and had waited up all night for Paige and Brian’s return. She’d thought they must have decided to stay out overnight, and reasoned that they’d been having too much fun to let her know.
She had only learned the grisly truth at dawn, after their overturned car was discovered near a dirt road just two miles from the farmhouse. The white-tailed deer Brian had swerved to avoid was found dead a few yards away, and the furrowed path in the steep embankment told the rest of the story. At first, Abby blamed herself. If only she’d thought to call someone, perhaps they could have been saved. But the coroner had said their death was immediate. He’d called it merciful.
Abby didn’t know if a healthy young couple could die a merciful death. She only knew they were gone forever, leaving her behind with a couple of babies who would never be orphans as long as she was around.