The Baby Twins

by Laura Marie Altom

  "Why are you shaking?"

  "I don't know," she confessed, telling the truth. "Probably wedding nerves."

  In all seriousness, Lola said, "Becky talks a lot about those. She said her mom's favorite medicine for that is vodka."

  * * *

  "HOW DID THE SHOPPING GO?" Brady asked when Stephanie returned to her hotel room. He'd offered to put her up at his apartment, but out of respect for Lola, she'd politely declined.

  "Exhausting, but fun," she said, collapsing onto one of two cream-colored armchairs in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of Mount Ranier was impressive, but not nearly as awe-inspiring as his bride.

  "I'm glad you're back." Putting the Snickers wrapper he'd been using for a bookmark in his adventure novel, he pushed himself up from the bed. He knelt in front of her and rested his head in her lap. Her jeans were still cold from the outside, and smelled woodsy. He loved that about the Northwest. How everything carried with it the reminder that nature was bigger than any of them.

  Combing his hair with her fingers, she said, "I'm even more glad to be back. Lola's quite a handful."

  Chuckling, he glanced up at her. "What trouble did her mouth get her into this time?"

  "She not only wanted to know where we were going for our honeymoon, but if we were going to kiss."

  "What did you tell her?" Grasping her hands, he blew warm breath on the tips of her chilled fingers.

  "Essentially that we would try not to—kiss."

  "Oh, yeah?" Pushing up the sleeves of her thin red sweater, he said, "So this wouldn't qualify?" He pressed his lips to her wrists, blazing an erotic trail all the way to her inner elbow.

  When she squirmed and giggled, he knew he'd found the right spot.

  "Or this?" Raising her sweater's hem, he forged a leisurely exploration of her abdomen.

  "Stop…" She halfheartedly protested even while raising her hips into his kiss. Shaking her head, she made cute panting noises when he unbuttoned her jeans and nipped at her white lace panties. "Never mind…Keep going…"

  "You don't have to ask me twice." Pushing aside all clothing blocking his way, he gently parted her legs, kissing her inner thighs and then more. Her hands in his hair, she pulled hard, moaning and bucking after each breathy exhale.

  Once she'd cried out in pleasure, he made hasty work of removing his clothes.

  Scooping her weak-limbed into his arms, he set her on the bed, proceeding with the all-important business of practicing for their first official night as man and wife.

  * * *

  "AND YOU WERE FINE ON all four legs of your trip to Seattle?" Dr. Naomi Hembro asked the Wednesday before the wedding. Stephanie had loads of much more important matters to attend to, but without telling Brady or her nosy sister and friends, she'd made the appointment more as a reassurance to herself that she was all right than for any of them.

  "Absolutely. I didn't have a lick of trouble." Remembering their last night in their posh hotel brought on a rush of heat. Luckily a quick glance at her current sterile surroundings brought her overheated imagination back to the normal zone.

  "Did you take tranquilizers at least thirty minutes before flying?"

  Stephanie nodded while her friend made notes on her chart.

  "Describe what happened in the bridal shop. Were you feeling claustrophobic or overheated?"

  "No. Best as I can remember, it was sleeting that day, so if anything, I was probably cold." What she didn't tell her doctor was that she remembered exactly what'd triggered her irrational fear. Michael. A rush of tangible memories that haunted her to this day.

  And then there were the hand tremors, striking out of nowhere with such severity she could hardly sign her name. But that didn't have anything to do with Brady or the wedding, right?

  "Sounds to me as if this is just a case of situational anxiety. Understandably, fear of flying is a trigger to many people. The bridal shop incident, though, still puzzles me." Jotting more notes, and then writing a name on one of her prescription pad sheets, the woman said, "I want you to speak with a therapist. She's a longtime friend of mine who specializes in grief management."

  "But I'm fine with what happened to Michael," Steph protested, not at all pleased that her doctor and future husband were on the same page in regard to her mental health.

  "Your loss would be hard for anyone to deal with. Throw in running your own business and single-handedly raising infant twins, and anyone would be under extreme pressure."

  "I love my life," Stephanie said, fishing through her purse for a stick of cinnamon gum. Her hands shook so badly, she was glad for the cover. "I'm getting married in less than a week and feel better than I ever have."

  Sitting on a low stool, the doctor said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but if everything in your life is so wonderful, why are you here?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  The doctor's question bugged Stephanie all the way back to the shop. If her issues with Michael's death had been resolved, going to her family physician wouldn't have been necessary. So much in her daily life had changed for the better. Why was she then finding it impossible to forget her former life? Why was she consumed with thoughts that if she did marry Brady, she'd only end up losing him, too? And she wasn't just caught up in the whole pilot thing. The odds of him also dying in a crash were practically nil. But there were other ways to lose a husband.

  Disease.

  Another woman.

  Being a big enough nut job that he'd rather be single than stay with you….

  With Valentine's Day that weekend, she'd hired three local women for temporary help at the pastry shop. Ordinarily, she and her usual staff would've handled the added holiday load, but it'd been a matter of great pride to her to make her own wedding cake.

  She'd already been working on the five-tiered creation for a day, and due to the complex lace icing pattern, she fully expected it to take until Friday to finish.

  "Where have you been?" Helen asked, wiping her hands on a white apron. "We've got orders backed up, and the register is completely out of change."

  "I'll run down to the bank," Stephanie said, neatly sidestepping the issue of where she'd spent the past hour. "Need anything else?"

  "You look feverish." Her friend held the backs of her fingers to Steph's forehead. "But you don't feel hot. A good thing being so perilously close to your big day."

  "Be right back," Stephanie said, taking the large bills from the register and slipping them into a green zippered bank bag.

  "Steph, your hands are shaking like a leaf."

  "It's wicked cold outside. Brrr." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to emphasize the degree of her chill, and to hide her little white lie about what was truly going on.

  She hated dodging Helen, but it was as necessary as getting to the florist to confirm her wedding order.

  At the bank, Stephanie ran into two high school friends who asked too many questions about Brady. She was thrilled to be marrying him, but the closer the ceremony came, the more superstitious she grew. As though if she talked about it too much, it might never happen.

  * * *

  "SO THERE WE WERE," CLARISSA said to everyone assembled at the rehearsal dinner that Olivia and Tag had volunteered to host at their house, "walking for hours up the glacier at Lake Louise, when all of the sudden this momma grizzly and her two cubs stepped out of the woods." Guzzling the last of her white wine, she signaled to a hired waiter. "Well, you should've seen Vince. He squealed like a third-grade girl."

  "Did not," he protested, "in fact, if I remember correctly, you were the one who said you nearly peed your pants."

  "Yes, but I am a girl," she pointed out, after which Brady's parents, Gloria and Charles, practically fell out of their chairs laughing.

  Stephanie's mom, Phyllis, too.

  She'd flown in from Tucson for the occasion. She wasn't at all what Brady had expected. Much taller than Steph and her twin, the woman had brown eyes and short-cropped brown hair. From her s
tares, he got the impression Phyllis had been talking a little too much with Lisa, who never failed to remind her sister that the wedding had come about too fast.

  Speaking of Steph's evil twin, she spent the bulk of the night alternately scowling and/or cozying up to a never-empty glass of merlot.

  Excusing himself, Brady left the dining room to hide out for a few minutes in one of the three living areas. The house was more like a hotel with so many rooms he'd lost count. But their host and hostess were cool. Unaffected by their apparent wealth.

  Standing before a wall of windows overlooking the Arkansas River, he tried recalling how he'd gotten to this point. To a night where he was on the verge of marrying one woman, while his first wife was partying with his brother and their folks. It was nuts.

  "Brady?" the only voice of sanity in his life said. "You okay? When you didn't come back I got worried about you. Thought you might've gotten lost."

  "I did," he said with a sigh, "but since you've found me, I'm thinking I'm going to be okay."

  Easing her arms around him, she rested her cheek against his chest. "We're both going to be great," she assured. "And just think, by tomorrow at this time, I'm going to be Mrs. Brady McGuire."

  Kissing her slowly and sweetly, he said, "I like the sound of that."

  "I've got something to tell you," she stood on her tiptoes to whisper into his right ear. "In case I failed to mention it back in Seattle, you're waaaay cuter than your brother."

  Laughing, he asked, "How is it you always know the right thing to say?"

  "It's a gift," she said, the light from the river reflecting in her eyes. "And it's about to be yours for the low, low price of a wedding ring."

  "And flowers," he tagged on with a smile. "And don't forget the dress and caterer bill."

  "You just had to bring all of that up, didn't you?" Back on her tiptoes, she kissed him right back.

  "I'm pretty sure one of my marital duties is to nag about how much money you spend."

  Adopting her best British accent, she said, "Then I shall try to be careful with your vast financial holdings."

  "That would be most appreciated, fair wench."

  A smile tickling her lips, she said, "I'm so excited about tomorrow. You're going to make a great husband."

  "Ditto." He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

  Snuggling against him, she said, "Me, too."

  * * *

  "KNOCK, KNOCK."

  Upon hearing her sister at the nursery door at well past midnight, Stephanie clutched her chest. In a loud whisper, she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

  Joining her alongside Melanie's crib, Lisa said, "I used my key. I know it's late, but we need to talk. You're my best friend, and I can't take this tension between us."

  That made two of them. But Lisa had made it abundantly clear she was dead set against Stephanie's upcoming marriage. Without a major apology, she wasn't about to kiss and make up. It was only because their mother had begged that Lisa had even been invited back into the wedding party.

  "Steph, I'm sorry if I've come across as the grim reaper of weddings, but I know you better than anyone. You're not ready for taking this huge of a step. I like Brady. A lot. He's amazing with you and the girls, but he's not Michael. You might say you're ready to move on, but I saw your hands tremble tonight at the rehearsal dinner whenever the topic was broached about you and Brady being together forever. You're terrified inside of not only maybe losing him, but of one day giving him up when you realize he doesn't measure up to Michael."

  Turning her back on her sister, Stephanie stormed out of the room. With the nursery door closed, and Lisa hot on her heels, she said, "Thought you came here to apologize. Not deliver more insults."

  Dropping to the sofa, Stephanie grabbed a white throw pillow to hug. "Do you have any idea how bad it hurts for my other half to not be able to see how amazing Brady and I are together?"

  "Oh, sweetie," Lisa said, perching beside her, taking her hand, "that's not at all what I mean. I want you to start fresh. I want you to be happy. But I want you to do it in a healthy way. This thing with Brady happened too fast. How many times did you tell me the two of you were just friends? And then, poof! All of a sudden you're wearing a huge ring and asking me to babysit his daughter. Can't you see that the root of your panic is that your heart hasn't caught up with your head?"

  "W-why are you doing this?" Stephanie asked, her voice small and defeated. "Why can't you just shut up and let me be happy?" She turned her back to her twin. "You've never lost a husband. You've never raised two babies on your own. You've never run your own business and—"

  "I know. Stop reminding me of all the ways I'm not as good as you long enough to hear what I'm truly saying." Taking her hands and holding them tight, Lisa said, "I love you. Plain as that. If marrying Brady is the fulfillment of your every dream, then from here on, I vow to shut up and fully support you. My twin radar is off, and again, I'm so sorry for doubting you."

  "Thank you." Stephanie angled to better face her sister. "You know how much I love you, which is why having you disapprove of my wedding has hurt so bad. Lisa, please, stop making me hurt. I've been through enough and now I just want to smile."

  "Th-that's all I want for you." With Lisa now crying, too, they hugged it out.

  Finally earning Lisa's seal of approval had been the crowning touch needed for Stephanie's happy day.

  * * *

  "I'M SOOOOO READY TO GET married!" Extra hyper during the thirty minutes before the wedding, Lola spun and hopped in her pretty pink dress. Her impromptu dance didn't make the historic chapel's cramped bridal suite feel any larger.

  "Me, too," Stephanie said, only for the not-so-admirable reason that she just wanted to get it over with. She hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of Brady's relatives. Clarissa and Vince, around whom he was understandably on edge. Then there were his parents, a parade of aunts and uncles. Cousins who had a never ending stream of Arkansas hillbilly jokes.

  "You okay?" Olivia asked. She looked beautiful in her red velvet strapless gown. As did Gabby and Lisa. For the twins, she'd found an antique white-wicker baby carriage that she'd lined with white satin. Both girls wore frothy pink dresses and had tiny bows in their curly hair.

  Nodding, Stephanie said, "Last night was fun, but took a lot out of me. Who knew Brady's family was large enough to populate a small country. Thanks again for hosting."

  "It was my pleasure—Tag's, too. You know how he likes throwing parties."

  "Yeah." At the mention of the party, Stephanie's memory went back in time to her first wedding reception. She and Michael had been so young, as had most of their guests. High school and culinary school friends who knew how to have a good time. Once the garden ceremony had finished, Michael's best man had fired up the grill, and out came a keg for the guys and dangerously liquored-up punch for the girls. Lisa's then-boyfriend had driven a truck that he'd retrofitted with a DJ station in the bed. A ghost of a smile playing about her lips, she couldn't remember ever having danced harder, or having more fun.

  "What're you thinking about?" Olivia asked.

  Jolted from her thoughts, Stephanie met her reflection in the antique vanity table's mirror. Far from bridal, she looked wide-eyed and terrified. Forcing a smile, she said, "I'm hoping I'll be a great wife."

  "Of course, you will," her co-matron of honor assured. "Brady loves you so much, and anyone can see you love him."

  Stephanie's eyes teared and her pulse raced. Her emotions felt dangerously close to being out of control. Breathing deeply, by sheer will, she held it together.

  "You all right?" her mother asked. It'd been so long since she'd seen her and despite being in her thirties, Stephanie very much needed a hug from her mom.

  Holding out her arms, trying not to cry, she whispered, "I love you. Thank you so much for being here."

  "Where else would I be? I'm so proud of you. Lots of my friends in Tucson who lose their husbands fold up shop and wait to die. Sure, they'r
e older than you—" she fussed over a few of Steph's runaway curls "—but age doesn't make your decision to put the past in the past any easier."

  Sniffling, Stephanie nodded.

  "Stop all of this frowning," her mom commanded. "You're a bride. You're required to be luminous and so gorgeous that all of the bridesmaids want to run away and hide."

  Laughing, crying, Stephanie agreed.

  * * *

  "DAMN, I'M GOOD-LOOKIN'," Brady boasted of himself a few minutes before heading out to the stone church's sanctuary.

  "And not a bit conceited," his best man, Pete, said with a few pats to his back.

  Also standing up for him were Neil Myers, a longtime friend from flight school, and Vince. Since Brady had owned up to the role he'd played in his marriage's collapse, the two had slowly been working their way back to being true brothers. Since Vince had stood up for him at his first wedding, Brady felt it fitting that his brother also stand up for him now, at the start of the rest of his life with Steph.

  From outside the office where the guys had been told to assemble came a knock.

  Neil opened the door to find the elderly pastor who would be performing the ceremony. "Where's my groom? Is he ready?"

  "As I'll ever be," Brady quipped. All teasing aside, he was psyched. It might've come about in whirlwind style, but his marriage to Steph was going to be great. They'd have more kids, and maybe snag a bigger house closer to a hub airport so he wouldn't have such a long commute.

  "That's what I like to hear," the man said. When he smiled, his bushy eyebrows nearly connected with his thick head of white hair.

  Standing at the altar, Brady was blown away by the decorating job Steph and her friends had done on the sanctuary. With stone walls and plenty of stained-glass windows, the place was already beautiful, but with the ceremony set to begin at six, and hundreds of candles illuminating the otherwise dark space, the old church was luminescent.

  Adding to the romance theme were the red roses he'd requested. Far too many to count paired with ivy and tons of other pale and hot-pink blooms that were too fancy for him to know the names. Festoons of fragrant blossoms lined the pews and the altar had become a candlelit wonderland.