"Oh, honey. Are you still dealing with grief? If so, I've got numbers of counselors who—"
Stephanie tossed Michael's sweatshirt on top of the dresser, then covered her face with her hands, vehemently shaking her head. "This has nothing to do with Michael."
"Then what?" Kicking off floral sneakers, Lisa sat cross-legged on the bed.
"I kissed a man."
Eyes wide, Lisa asked, "Who?"
Stephanie groaned. "Remember that nice couple we used to live next door to in Dallas? Clarissa and Brady?"
"Yeah…"
"Well, Brady was the pilot on my flight. I saw him in his uniform and in my less-than-stable condition, thought he was Michael. He was so kind, even waited at the airport security office for me. He took me out to dinner and we laughed and enjoyed a delicious meal. He told me that he and Clarissa were divorced. The next day, we went to the beach and we were soaking in the sun and running through the waves and—" Hand over her mouth, she mumbled, "I'm not sure if I kissed him, or he kissed me, but at the time, it felt so natural, but then—"
"Time-out," Lisa said, crossing her hands into a T. "First things first, did you like it? Kissing him?"
"Well…yes, but that's not the point."
"What is? Why are you flipping out over a kiss?"
Pacing, Stephanie said, "I'm flipping out because I very much not only liked the kiss, but being with Brady. I liked everything about him. He's compassionate and funny and when he laughs, it's like his whole body lights up, and—"
"Breathe." Blocking Stephanie's path, her sister said, "When Michael died, I was so scared for you. Still am. But since when is kissing a great guy problematic? Steph, I know Michael and I didn't always see eye to eye, but one thing we both agreed on was that if anything should ever happen to him that you go on with your life. It's been over a year that he's been gone. Why are you being so hard on yourself?"
Hands back over her face, Stephanie squealed.
"Now, what's wrong?"
"You said hard, and during the kiss, well…" Hands lowered, her cheeks blazed. "What's wrong with me? I never think dirty things like that."
"Ask me," Lisa said, fanning herself with a 2007 Super Bowl program, "it's about damned time."
Chapter Four
"See?" Lisa said once their flight safely landed in Little Rock, "With me by your side, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Not at all," Steph admitted while they taxied to the gate. "But then my medicine makes me feel like I'm flying without the benefit of a plane. Does that nullify my accomplishment?"
Gathering their two magazines and a bottled water from her seat pocket, Lisa asked, "Would you rather be high or back in a padded cell?"
"It wasn't padded. In fact, there wasn't a single soft item to be found."
Sighing, Lisa rolled her eyes. "I rest my case."
With her twin's arrival, the rest of Steph's week in Miami had passed in a busy blur.
They'd given most of Michael's clothes and ragtag furniture to charity. For his mementos, Steph had arranged for the boxes to be shipped to Valley View.
Being with Brady felt like a dream.
"You excited to see the twins?" her sister asked.
Throat unexpectedly tight, Steph nodded.
Lisa took her hand. "You're going to be okay, you know? Great, even."
She and her sister had always had a knack for sensing each other's moods. Never had she been happier to have someone in her life who knew her inside and out. "I love you."
"Ditto."
While the plane jerked to a stop and a flight attendant opened the cabin door, Steph and her twin shared a quick hug.
It took five minutes for the passengers in front of them to file off the plane. It took another five to walk the long concourse to where friends and family gathered to pick up arriving travelers. When Stephanie first caught sight of Tag and Olivia holding her smiling, waving babies, happy tears stung her eyes. Emotionally, the past week could only be described in terms of a battle. One from which she'd just now emerged victorious.
Running, she laughed through tears. "You're both so adorable," she crooned, kissing Melanie and then Michaela.
"Thanks," Tag quipped. "I wasn't sure about my hair, but I guess it looks good after all."
Olivia gave him a jab. "Welcome home," she said, passing Steph Michaela, who had been her firstborn, and was named in honor of her father. She'd dressed the girls in matching pink corduroys paired with pricey-looking cashmere sweaters as soft as the girls' blond curls.
After taking Michaela into her arms, drinking in her sweet, familiar scent of lotion and baby shampoo, Stephanie reached for Melanie.
"Steph," her sister warned. "Remember what your doctor said about holding both girls at once. You're going to inflame your bursitis."
"I don't care," Stephanie said, "that's why the Good Lord invented ibuprofen."
Olivia and Tag laughed, but Lisa didn't.
She worried too much. Ever since Michael's passing, she'd appointed herself Steph's watchdog. Whether it be on matters of child care, house maintenance or health, Lisa was always on hand to remind Stephanie just how tenuous of a situation she was in. As a single mom of two, she didn't have the luxury of being achy or sick. She had too much to do, which Lisa was usually happy to point out. While they'd been in Miami, her sister had been the old Lisa. Fun and supportive again as opposed to nagging.
"Don't ruin this for me," Stephanie whispered to her twin while Tag and Olivia fussed over Flynn, who had just pitched his favorite pink hippo from his stroller and was now screaming about it. "All I could think of during this hellish week was getting my arms back around these two."
"I understand," Lisa said, "but that doesn't mean you should ignore your doctor's advice. Look what good that did you on your Dallas-to-Miami flight."
Trying to change the subject, Steph asked Olivia, "How much do I owe you for the girls' posh new outfits? They're gorgeous."
Olivia waved off her question. "Don't even think of giving me money for what amounted to an afternoon's entertainment for Flynn and I. We love shopping, and it was a hoot finally getting to pick out girly stuff."
"Sure?" Steph asked, easing Michaela into the front of the twins' double stroller, and then Melanie into the back.
"Absolutely. Need help?" Olivia asked, hovering nearly as bad as Lisa. Outside of her sister, Stephanie hadn't told a soul about her high-altitude meltdown, which meant, judging by her concerned expression, her friend must've heard about it on her own.
"No, thanks. I'm good." Rising, careful not to favor her suddenly aching back, chest and forearms, she gave her friend a hug. "That was sweet of you to get my girls a new winter outfit. I wasn't prepared for the cold."
"Seriously," Olivia reassured, "it was our pleasure."
"I hate breaking up this hug fest," Tag said, "but we're about to get run over."
Stephanie looked up to see that while she'd enjoyed her reunion, a new crowd had moved in. Some waved Welcome Home banners, and others had American flags.
A glance down the concourse from where they'd just come showed a trio of desert camo-wearing, smiling soldiers. Returning home from Iraq?
Hastily looking away, she busied herself with gathering her carry-on and then pushing the twins' stroller toward the baggage-claim area.
She hadn't missed Lisa's latest worried look, or the way Olivia swatted Tag.
He mouthed sorry.
Stephanie wanted to crawl inside one of the suitcases rounding the carousel. Her friends must think she was a total basket case. Yes, seeing other women laughing through tears while crushing their soldiers in reunion embraces was agonizing, but Stephanie didn't begrudge them their happiness. Of course, she still hurt, but she was a big girl. She'd long ago learned life wasn't the least bit fair.
Once all of the luggage had been gathered, the ride home in Tag's Hummer was awkward and long. The Razorbacks had played that afternoon at War Memorial Stadium, meaning traffic from the airport to Valley
View was a nightmare. With three babies in car seats, Lisa and Stephanie and their luggage were squeezed in. Luckily, Olivia and Lisa kept up a steady stream of chatter while Tag kept his focus on the road.
After dropping off Lisa, the trip to Steph's three-bedroom ranch house was short.
Too bad unloading her suitcase, carry-on and all of Michaela and Melanie's gear took considerably longer. The sky was gray and wind brisk. Tag offered to do all of the hauling but while Olivia stayed with the babies, Stephanie helped pile everything in the entry hall, figuring she'd sort it later.
The house was in a newish subdivision, and without benefit of trees, the cold sliced through her. After Miami's lushness, seeing her dreary home did little to brighten her mood. She and Michael had had big plans for the place. But with him gone, landscaping and her dream of painting the house a cheerful yellow had been indefinitely put on hold.
At the airport, she'd been so happy to see the girls. Now that the initial euphoria had worn off, exhaustion took its toll.
"You going to be all right?" Olivia asked once everything was in the house—including the twins, who were busy reacquainting themselves with the toys in their playpen. Flynn was asleep in his car seat.
"I'm fine," Steph assured.
"I almost forgot," Olivia said, jogging to the car. From beneath the front seat, she took a casserole dish. "I made you enchiladas for dinner. I know how much you like them, and thought you might be too tired to cook."
Warmed by her friend's thoughtfulness, Stephanie accepted the dish and tried not to cry. "Th-thank you."
"You're so welcome." Expression clouded with worry, Olivia said, "I wish we didn't live so far away."
"Quit," Steph scolded. "You're starting to sound like Lisa. Even before Michael's passing, I learned to be self-sufficient."
"Is your heater good to go?" Tag asked, hunching with his hands in his pockets and back to the wind. "It's supposed to drop to the twenties tonight."
"Yes, Dad," Steph said with a forced smile. "I had it checked during the first sign of a cold snap."
"Don't get sassy with me," he teased. "You're not too old for a spanking."
Olivia conked the back of his head. "On that note, I'm getting you out of here." To Steph, she said, "Love you. Call if you need anything."
"I will," Stephanie promised, even though for pride's sake, she probably wouldn't.
Holding the casserole with one hand, she waved with her other, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat as her friends drove away.
* * *
HOURS LATER, WITH THE TWINS bathed and fed and tucked into their cribs, Stephanie stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the dark.
Wind rattled the glass, and a light drizzle made the cold feel as if it were seeping into her bones. It was only eight, yet it felt more like midnight. She was just summoning the energy to nuke some of Olivia's enchiladas when the phone rang.
Lisa.
Skipping the usual pleasantries, Stephanie asked, "What did I do now that you need to nag about?"
"Actually," her twin said, "I'm calling to apologize. I didn't mean to come off like a bitch at the airport."
"Then why did you?" Stephanie took the glass enchilada pan from the fridge, and scooped a portion into a bowl.
After a long pause, Lisa said, "I was jealous."
"Huh?" Her meal in the microwave for two minutes, Steph sat at the kitchen table. Now that she thought about it, Lisa's voice sounded raspy. "Have you been crying?"
"A-and drinking wine," she said with a sniffle. "At the airport, I wanted what you have. People to actually come home to. My turtle, George, doesn't count."
"Oh, Lisa, of course he counts. I'm sure in his own way, George really loves you."
The microwave beeped.
"N-not the way the girls love you. You should've seen their little eyes light up. I know you lost Michael too soon but he totally loved you. And then you meet up with a guy you hardly even know and get great kisses. What am I doing wrong that I can't be more like you?"
Laughing, ignoring her still-beeping meal, Steph asked, "Why would you even want to be like me? I'm a walking disaster. CNN did a cover story on my lack-luster hijacking techniques."
"They did not," her twin argued. "It was hardly even a blurb."
"Well, it was my blurb, and I'm still mortified."
"About the panic attack," she probed, "or the kiss?"
Cringing through a giggle, she admitted, "Both. Worse yet, ever since the kiss, I've wanted to see him again."
"So? Call him?"
"First, I'd have to stalk him by finding his number."
"Checked your e-mail since you've been home?"
"No…why?"
Through another sniffle, Lisa said, "He was ridiculously easy to track down. Call him, Steph. Now. Second chances don't come all that often. I-If this is your cosmic do-over, you should seize it."
"Sweetie, put down the wine and get over here—no, scratch that. You shouldn't be driving. What you should do is fix yourself a nice bowl of soup, and then go to sleep."
Crying anew, Lisa said, "I'm tired of being lonely."
"Me, too. But that's why we have each other. So we don't have to be alone. And my girls are yours, too. We're a family."
"I—I know. I'm sorry I even called. I j-just wanted you to know that I think you should call him."
Finally answering the microwave's beep, Stephanie said, "Who knows? Maybe I will."
* * *
"DAD?"
"Yes, hon?" Brady looked up from the Sunday Seattle Times to find his little girl standing in the hall leading to her room, hands on her hips.
"I don't have enough closet space."
"And…" Lola was eight! What the hell was Clarissa teaching her?
"Can I put some of my clothes in your room?"
"I suppose, but you only brought one suitcase for the weekend. How much stuff did you cram in?"
Rolling her eyes, she said, "Geez, Dad, do you have to be all up in my bizness?"
"Carry on." Once she'd left, he returned to the story he'd been reading on the state's unpreparedness for another major oil spill. Great. Like he didn't already have enough to worry about in how he was going to entertain Lola that afternoon.
"Dad!" she shouted from his room. Her voice sounded muffled, leading him to assume she was still in his closet. "Who are all of these people?"
Sighing, he put down his paper. "What people?"
She wandered into the living room with the plastic bag filled with photos that Stephanie had given him. Never one for open sentimentality, he'd stashed them on a top shelf. "Who's this lady with Mom?"
Stephanie. Younger, and without the sorrow on her face that he'd seen in Miami. She and his former wife sat on top of a picnic table, hamming for the camera, making bunny faces. "An old friend."
"How come I've never seen all of these before?"
"Long story."
"I'm not a baby," she reminded, snuggling on the sofa alongside him.
"Okay…Before you were born, your mom and I used to be neighbors with this woman and her husband. Before moving here, I was in Miami and ran into her. She gave me the pictures."
"Does Mom know?"
He shook his head.
"Mom looks really pretty here. I like her hair long." She ran a finger over her mother's form. "Me, too."
"If she grew her hair out again, would you two get back together?"
If only it were that simple.
"I mean, I like Uncle Vince, and all, but you're cuter."
That knowledge brought a small measure of comfort. "No, hon. Me and your mom are done."
"Do you date anyone?"
"Where did that come from?"
She shrugged. "I heard mom talking about it with Grandma. She said you're never going to get over her because you won't date anyone else."
Ouch. "Wanna get out of here? Maybe head for the zoo?"
"Yeah, but her saying that made me mad. I think you're cute, and if you're
not with Mom, you should totally hook up with someone else."
Hook up? Where the hell was his little girl learning this stuff? Brady sighed, suddenly feeling old.
Chapter Five
"What are you doing?" Stephanie asked her sister over the phone Sunday night. After spending the afternoon playing with Tag and Olivia's baby, Flynn, the girls had conked out early.
"Just painting my nails. Why?"
"Come over right away. You have to hear this crazy message on my machine."
Sighing, or maybe just blowing on her nails, Lisa whined, "Do I have to? It's like seriously freakin' cold outside. Can't you just play it for me now?"
"No, and yes, you have to come now or I'll tell Mom how bad you were on your cruise."
"You wouldn't?"
Twenty minutes later, Lisa hobbled through the front door with purple toe dividers laced onto her bare feet.
Shivering, she said, "So let's hear it. I still have to put on a mud mask."
In the kitchen, Steph hit the play button on her answering machine. In a seriously faked man's voice someone said, "Yo, Steph! Waz up? This is Brady McGuire and I wanted you to know I'm available for a hot date! Call me!"
A second message featured the same imposter, only with a little girl's giggle in the background. "Hey, it's me again! I forgot to give you my number." After leaving cell, home and work contact info, the caller finished with more muffled giggles. "I know you really want to date me, so call!"
Scrunching her nose, Lisa said, "Please tell me that wasn't really him?"
"No, thank goodness."
"There is one obvious solution to this dilemma." Lisa shuffled to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair and sat, then leaned over to blow on her toes. "Call him."
"But—"
"No buts. Since you dragged me over here, the least you can do is call the guy. Now I gotta go. I have a date with that mud pack."
After her twin left, Stephanie once again found herself alone with the phone. Finally, curiosity won over sanity.
It took five rings before Brady picked up.
"Hello?" The rich baritone of his voice made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy.
The Baby Twins Page 4