Married...With Twins!

by Jennifer Mikels

  Luke snagged her just in time. “Yucky,” he said, using her favorite word for anything she didn’t like. He turned just in time to see Brooke clambering from the stroller. Luke halted her and tucked her behind her sister.

  He gave himself a mental pat on the back and pushed the stroller into the grocery store.

  Val had them pegged accurately. In the checkout line, he discovered a candy bar down the front of Brooke’s blouse, a box of cookies that Traci was sitting on and a woman’s magazine known for explicit advice to single women buried under the cartons of deli coleslaw and potato salad. He set the candy bar on the counter and smoothed the cover of the magazine before returning it to the rack.

  The bath had been heavenly. Val had treated herself by taking a glass of ice tea and a paperback in with her. Closing her eyes, she’d sunk into the warm water and relived the tender look in Luke’s eyes when they’d stood in the elevator. During those few seconds, pain, tears, even the lost dream seemed no longer clear in her mind. She would like to forget all of that, she realized. If only she wasn’t afraid to believe in them again.

  Good to his word, Luke didn’t return for almost two hours. Dressed in clean shorts and a striped top, Val helped him unpack the grocery bag. “How did it go?”

  “No problem.” He cast a quick glance at her. By her grin, he gathered she didn’t believe him.

  “No problem?”

  “None.”

  Val’s smile widened as she held up the bag of cookies smashed to crumbs.

  “They are fast,” he admitted.

  Laughing softly, Val whirled away, carrying paper plates and napkins to Traci who stood with arms outstretched. “Here.” She set the plates in her arms. “Would you carry these, plea-”

  “Lu-cas!”

  Brooke’s yell pierced through him. He dropped a chicken leg back into the box and darted for the living room. “What?” he asked, calmer now that he saw no disaster or blood.

  “Put away.” Brooke jabbed a finger at his sneakers blocking the path of her doll’s stroller around the coffee table. “Soppy, soppy, soppy,” she reprimanded, clucking like an old woman and shaking her head as she picked up one of his shoes.

  With the little taskmaster watching him, Luke tossed his shoes in the den. When he returned to the kitchen, Val was holding the phone.

  “Oh, of course. We’ll be glad to see you.” The brightness in her voice sounded forced to him. “Yes, goodbye.” She set the receiver back in its cradle and tore past him. “We have to set the table, and get the girls cleaned up,” she insisted while capping deli cartons. “Do you think we should dirty pots?” She didn’t wait for his answer and began to yank a few out of the cabinet. They clanged as she set them on burners. “She’ll think I cooked,” she murmured more to herself than him.

  Shaking her head, she shoved the pots back into the cupboard. “No that would be dishonest. But what will she think that I didn’t cook?” She smashed the white grocery store bag. “I should have cooked.” Coming up for air, she finally made eye contact with him. “Do something.”

  “Slow down a minute.” Luke blocked her path to the doorway and grabbed both her hands. “What’s going on?”

  “Luke, she’s coming now. That woman is coming. It’s inspection time.”

  Chapter Seven

  Luke asked only one question. “What do you want me to do?”

  Setting the table at top speed, Val spieled a list of orders with the proficiency of an army drill sergeant.

  With a promise he’d read two extra stories to the girls at bedtime, Luke persuaded them to pick up their toys in the living room.

  While physician’s hands disinfected the bathroom sink and swished a toilet bowl brush around in the water, downstairs the vacuum hummed.

  Luke thought the girls needed only their hands washed, then spotted what he guessed was that godawful tasting purple punch on the front of Brooke’s blouse. He wiped grubby fingers and sticky faces. “Sit still,” he appealed to Brooke while he tugged on a clean sock.

  She flopped to her back, twisted to the right, then the left, looking for an escape.

  To his amazement, Luke won the battle. “Where are your shoes, Traci?”

  Busy tugging at the sock he’d put on her minutes ago, she answered distractedly, “In the washing ‘chine.”

  He’d retrieve them later. Satisfied the girls were clean, he watched the two of them, looking angelic, trod off. But where were they going? he wondered. Indecisively, he stood in the hallway, torn between changing his shirt or playing bloodhound.

  “What are you doing?” Val asked on her way up the steps. She definitely sounded a touch panicky to him. With a look he could only interpret as disbelief, she nodded in the direction of his shirt before breezing past him. “Your shirt is wet.”

  After what he’d just been through, he didn’t need any critique of his dress. “And your knees are dirty,” he quipped.

  She froze in midstride. Glancing down, she groaned at the dark smudges that marked her knees from wiping the kitchen floor of Brooke’s spilled punch. “Damn,” she muttered low and raced into the bathroom.

  “Don’t mess up in there,” Luke yelled. How often had he heard her say those same words to him before company arrived? On a laugh at the role reversal, he went into the bedroom for a clean shirt.

  Wearing only a teddy, she was rummaging in her closet for a dress. “This one?” she asked, whirling toward him and holding up a long white dress with small blue flowers.

  Personally he thought she looked great in the teddy. A male preference. He doubted she’d view his opinion as humorous under the circumstances.

  “Do you like this one?” she repeated.

  He had no chance to answer. Behind him, the phone rang. “Edwin,” Luke said a second later, holding the receiver out to her.

  She shimmied into her dress first. “Hi, Gramps,” she said, turning her back to Luke.

  Enormous control kept him from bending forward to kiss her bare back while he tugged up the zipper on the dress. Romantic notions were dispelled as quickly as they formed. Now was not the time.

  Downstairs, Luke headed for the garage for Traci’s shoes. He was there only a moment. Empty-handed, he returned to the living room to see the twins still clean, sitting quietly over their puzzles. “Traci, where did you say your shoes were?”

  “In the washing ‘chine.”

  “They’re not there.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on the puzzle. “Yep.”

  “No, they’re….” Luke stopped himself, sensing the futility of arguing the point with a two year old.

  “We can search after dinner,” Val suggested on her way to the kitchen.

  Dinner in the kitchen wasn’t exactly what Luke had planned. Rushed, it lacked the fun and relaxation he’d envisioned when he made the suggestion.

  “The woman said she’d be right over,” Val grumbled, already rinsing some of the dinner dishes though Traci was still poking at her meal. “So where is she?”

  Luke shrugged, and sensing her anxiousness intensifying, he decided retreat was in his best interest. He carried the last of the dishes to the sink and steered the girls into the living room.

  On the sofa beside him, Traci wiggled stockinged feet. Sometime before the state worker popped in, he needed to find her shoes.

  “Were you looking for these?” Val asked, standing in the arched doorway, dangling Traci’s shoes from her fingers.

  He was not losing it, he told himself. The sneakers weren’t in the washing machine. “Where did you find them? I looked in the…”

  “Dishwasher.” Looking ready to burst into laughter, Val dropped the shoes beside Traci, then started up the steps.

  Dumbfounded, Luke stared down at Traci. “In the…”

  Slipping on a shoe, she tore her gaze from the television screen. “Washing ‘chine.”

  Except for a grumble, he said nothing. He crouched to tie her shoes. There was no arguing with a female when she thought she was r
ight. No matter what age she was.

  Head bent, he tied one sneaker, then slid the second one on her foot. The sound of paper crinkling behind him made him look up.

  Standing at the cupboard, Brooke cradled a box of crackers in one arm and a handful of them in her other hand.

  “Hey, put those back.”

  She gave Luke her best grin, then took off, smashing the crackers as she raced past him in the living room.

  On a low groan, he visually followed the trail of cracker crumbs she’d left in her wake.

  Calmer with the dishes done, and everything ready, Val finished brushing her hair. She was halfway down the steps when she heard the vacuum. “A problem?” she yelled over the noise, though she’d already spotted the crumbs scattered across the carpet.

  Some male thing prevented him from admitting that two pint-size scamps were running him around in circles. He killed the power on the vacuum cleaner. “Nope.” By her grin, he knew she didn’t believe him. “What did Edwin want earlier?” he asked as he set the vacuum in the nearby closet.

  Val glanced at the twins, content now as they listened to the singing of a cartoon lion. “Gramps is going on a date.”

  Luke shut the closet door. “Who?”

  From a distance, thunder rumbled. “Myrna Traynor.”

  Remembering how devoted she’d seemed to be to her grandmother, he couldn’t help asking, “Is that all right with you?”

  The idea of her grandfather having someone he enjoyed being with again did please her. “Yes, he-” Val jumped in response to the doorbell. “Calm down,” she mumbled to herself, scanning the room. She couldn’t afford to be nervous. “Does everything look all right? Do I?”

  To soothe, Luke caught her hand. “You look beautiful.”

  “I like the playroom for the twins,” the state worker said. A tall, thin woman in her early fifties, she’d revealed a warm personality more than once during the past hour.

  Val had visualized the dour-looking woman being picky and difficult to please. First impressions sometimes were definitely wrong.

  Ending her brief play with the girls, the woman handed Brooke a block. “I can see you went through a lot of effort to offer Brooke and Traci comfortable surroundings.”

  What’s your impression of us? Luke wanted to ask. He remained silent as Val ushered the woman to the door.

  “This isn’t my usual type of case. However, because of the stipulation in the Dawsons’ will, you must meet certain criteria for the courts to approve your custodial obligations.”

  Val bristled. They loved the girls. Why didn’t anyone recognize that? “We don’t view the girls as an obligation,” she cut in before the woman went on.

  Surprise widened the woman’s eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Val squelched a grimace. She shouldn’t have flared at the woman. Did she think she was too shorttempered? “We’re glad you came,” she said, hoping the woman remembered her parting smile and not that outburst.

  “Thank you.” As Val opened the door, a gust of wind sprayed rain into the room. The woman sighed and placed her hand on her umbrella in preparation of shooting it open once she stepped outside. “You’ll be notified about my report.”

  Val prayed that the disagreeable weather didn’t have an affect on the woman’s mood. Closing the door, she pivoted toward Luke and the girls who were glued to the Disney movie again. “Luke, I shouldn’t have…”

  Beside Traci on the sofa, Luke nestled the child closer in the crook of his arm. “All it showed is that you care.”

  Val chose the closest chair to relax on. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Rain,” Brooke murmured with an anxious look at the window. A flash of lightning bolted her from the carpet and onto the chair with Val.

  Thunder rumbled, long and loudly.

  Burying her face in Luke’s chest, Traci clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes tight.

  “Bedtime,” Val announced even though fifteen minutes still remained for them to be up. With the storm raging, she thought the sooner they fell asleep, the better.

  During their baths, the twins splashed merrily, seeming to completely forget about the weather.

  While Val wiped out the tub, Luke read a Christmas story. Brooke’s choice. In a voice two octaves lower than normal, he said Santa Claus’s lines.

  Val entered the room in time to hear his soprano version of Mrs. Claus hurrying her husband out the door to deliver presents. Eyes round, the girls hung on his every word.

  Unlike other nights, tonight when he finished the story, neither twin was sleeping. With a tiny hand clutching the rail of her crib, Brooke darted a look toward the window. Another crack of lightning cast the room in an eerie glow.

  “Potty,” Traci insisted, sounding almost panicky.

  Val gathered that her need for cuddling more than a bathroom prompted the demand. Before they returned to the bedroom, she did her best to allay Traci’s fear with a story about angels bowling. Calming her didn’t mean her mirror image was, too.

  “Pee, pee, too,” Brooke yelled, waving her arms when Val entered the room.

  Though certain her demand was bogus, Val ushered Brooke into the bathroom. Five minutes later, she carried her through the dark hallway to the bedroom.

  With a long rumble of thunder, she death-gripped Val’s neck. “Tirsty.”

  Two glasses of water later, both girls were again in bed.

  All it took was a glance at Traci to know another request was coming. Her eyebrows knitting with a frown, she relinquished her hold on her blanket and wagged her head. “No Polly.”

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Val murmured before retrieving the doll.

  With it clutched in her arm, Traci sat in a corner of her crib. Hanging on to the railing with one hand, Brooke gripped her teddy bear. Neither of them looked the least bit tired.

  Val elbowed Luke toward the door, and made ready for an escape. The moment she flicked off the light switch, the demands began again.

  “Potty,” Traci yelled.

  “More tirsty,” Brooke wailed.

  Reaching for the light switch, Val was determined to be firm. “No more drinks of water,” she said, gently urging Brooke down and covering her with a blanket. She directed her attention to Traci then. “And no more potty tonight.” Only a fool thinks she has control of the situation when dealing with two-year-olds.

  With a clap of thunder over the house, the girls screamed as if every monster in the world had appeared before them.

  Luke shrugged and crossed to Brooke to soothe her.

  Quieting Traci, Val nearly winced herself as thunder boomed again above the roof.

  At some moment, Luke gave in to his own tiredness and sacked out on the floor, using Brooke’s teddy bear for a pillow. Sitting in the rocker, Val closed her eyes. She couldn’t deny she was just as sleepy.

  It was sometime after midnight when the storm weakened. Sprawled on the floor, Luke looked so peaceful and relaxed, Val hesitated to wake him. She didn’t have to. As she moved the rocker forward and pushed to a stand, his head turned in her direction.

  “They’re sleeping,” she whispered, and backed out of the room. Inside the bathroom, Val undressed and slipped on a nightgown. It had been a long day and a confusing one. She couldn’t fool herself. Moments with Luke had fostered memories and emotion.

  When she opened the door, a narrow path of light flared from the bathroom into the room. She caught movement and saw his silhouette. Stripped of his shirt, his head was bent. “They’re a handful,” she said on a soft, amused laugh. “But…”

  Luke’s hands stilled on the snap of his Levi’s. “But what?” he asked, unable to look away from the creamy flesh above the lace of whispery-looking cloth.

  “There was a time.when I thought I’d never be this happy again,” she admitted. Lured by the sound of the pounding rain, she ambled to the window. It bad stormed the first night they’d made love. Rain had pelted the ground then, too, muff
ling her moans while his touch had swept a pleasure over her. That night she’d learned the texture of his skin beneath her hands. She’d welcomed him with her body and her heart. “Why couldn’t we talk to each other then?”

  He knew she meant when they lost Kelly. The need to slip his arms around her closed in on him, but he kept his hands to himself.

  Her back to him, she stood ramrod straight, her shoulders back. She’d looked that way at the funeral. Head up, chin out, eyes dry. For months she’d revealed no real emotion, being polite to him as if they’d never exchanged wedding bands, never been lovers, and he hadn’t known how to reach her. How could he explain now? When he’d finally let feelings seep into him, he’d already lost her. That was his fault, but how could he have helped her when he’d barely kept a grasp upon sanity himself?

  As she turned, the light fell across her eyes-eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m really sorry.” The words didn’t seem like enough. Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped away. “I’ll lock the doors.”

  Val dragged in air. All that was and could be controlled her: “Luke?” As she called out to him, she’d never been more aware of her vulnerability, nor of his. She wasn’t certain she’d made a decision before this. And whether it was a mistake or not didn’t seem to matter. His eyes, like slits in the dimly lit room, never left hers. “I needed you, then.” She felt herself taking the last step, reaching out for an old dream. She dropped one strap of her nightgown, and then the other. As if enticing her with the promise of his hands, the cloth slithered over her hips. “And now,” she murmured.

  Darkness mantled the room, and rain beat in a steady rhythm against the roof. He sucked in a breath, doubting he could take another. For a long moment, he absorbed the subtle sweet scent of a flowery perfume that had been one of the gifts he’d bought her for her last birthday. He closed the distance to her but didn’t touch. His blood warming, with something close to reverence, he let his gaze travel over her shadowed body and up to her face. Even beneath the shield of night, he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but it left as swiftly as it came.