Triplets for the Texan

by Janice Maynard

  In the space of a few weeks, all of her priorities had changed. It was a sobering realization to understand that every single one of her heartaches and heartbreaks was of her own creation.

  She wasn’t able to sleep in her bed that night. Instead, she went to the guest room and curled up in a ball where Troy had lain. The sheets still smelled like him. She cried for an hour and then made herself stop. It was no longer possible to be the same self-centered, ego-driven woman she had once been.

  By this time next year, she would have three infants living under her roof. Hutch or no Hutch, that was her reality. It would have been easy to blame the babies for her situation. Without them, perhaps she and Hutch might have found their way back together for good.

  Even reeling from the afternoon’s trauma, she had to face the truth. Hutch was gone. The babies were here to stay. And she was their mama. Bless their hearts. Already, she knew they deserved better.

  Somehow, she would pick herself up and go on. Somehow...but not tonight. Tonight, she would grieve, and if she was lucky, perhaps she wouldn’t dream about the good doctor at all.

  Twelve

  When morning came, she tried to avoid looking in the mirror. She knew she was haggard and pale. At least she was strong enough to drive. Her stomach was a little queasy, but that had more to do with heartbreak and a sleepless night than her pregnancy.

  She showered and styled her hair on autopilot. Choosing something to wear, once a pivotal point in her daily routine as a young twentysomething, now barely merited a moment’s thought. The only reason she cared at all was that she didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her.

  With that in mind, she chose a sunshine-yellow dress, sleeveless with white trim, and paired it with cork-heeled sandals. Normally, she used foundation only for special occasions. She’d been blessed with good skin.

  Today, though, she needed help covering up the deep shadows beneath her dull eyes. Mascara and brightly colored lip gloss gave her a semblance of health, but if anyone looked closely enough, they wouldn’t be fooled.

  Frankly, she was terrified. She knew the ultrasound itself was painless, but what the test would reveal was a mystery. If she had asked either Naomi or Cecelia, both would have volunteered to come with her. Was it pride or a need to lick her wounds that kept her from contacting her two best friends?

  She would see them later today. If the news she received at the hospital was bad, she wouldn’t be able to hide her grief. Maybe that was for the best. They were the only people who would be able to help, the only ones who knew her inside and out.

  Much like before, the ultrasound tech was professional but frustratingly uncommunicative when it came to explaining the images on the screen. Simone lay on the table with her eyes closed and prayed.

  At last it was over. She dressed again in her cheerful outfit and managed a smile when the tech escorted her to an exam room. Then came the usual pokes and prods. Her blood pressure was a tad low. The scale showed she had lost ten pounds since her last visit. The nurse’s expression of consternation was quickly masked, but Simone knew she should be gaining.

  The last hurdle was waiting for Dr. Fetter. There was no need for a pelvic exam today. The only reason Simone had come to the hospital was to discuss the ultrasound. So she clasped her hands in her lap and waited.

  Twenty-seven-and-a-half minutes. Could have been worse. Janine Fetter burst through the door with a quick apology. “I’ve got two babies in progress, one about to deliver three weeks early. But we have a few hours yet. Let’s take a look at these pictures so you can be on your way.”

  The other woman opened Simone’s record on the laptop. The tech had already uploaded the images. The doctor studied them for interminable minutes, flipping from screen to screen, and finally looked up with a smile. “Congratulations, Simone. As far as I can tell, you have three extremely healthy fetuses. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I think we’re past the immediate danger point.”

  “But what about all the weight I’ve lost?” Simone asked, afraid to give in to relief too fast.

  Dr. Fetter stood up and tucked her reading glasses in the pocket of her lab coat. “That’s the wonderful thing about babies. They’ve been taking all the nutrition they need. You’re the one who’s fragile right now, not them. Since your nausea is easing to a great degree, I’m confident we’ll see your weight bounce back in the coming weeks.”

  “Oh...”

  The doctor cocked her head. “Simone?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You can drop the ma’am. I’m not that old.”

  “Sorry.”

  “My job is to take care of you and your babies, not to pry into your personal business. But...” She trailed off with a wince.

  “But what? Go ahead. Say what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t think you understand what you’re facing.”

  The doctor’s lack of faith hurt. “I’m doing my best,” Simone said stiffly.

  “It’s not that. I’m talking about after the pregnancy. Having triplets is not a solo event. It requires coordinated teamwork. For quite some time.”

  “Naomi and Cecelia have promised to help me.”

  “That’s lovely, and I’m sure they mean well, but neither of them knows babies, do they?”

  “No. Isn’t it a kind of learn-as-you-go thing?”

  “Yes and no. Giving birth to triplets means having your life scheduled beyond belief. It means at least three adults holding, feeding and diapering three babies around the clock until they begin sleeping through the night. Are your parents physically capable of helping you?”

  Simone shook her head. “Physically, maybe, but not emotionally. They won’t be the warm, fuzzy kind of grandparents.”

  “Pardon me for asking, but what about Dr. Hutchinson?”

  Simone froze inside. “What about him?”

  The doctor clearly tried to choose her words with care. “If there is something between you—if he is willing to help—I think it would be in your best interests to let him.”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as a poor bargain for Hutch?”

  “Troy Hutchinson is a grown man. I’m sure he can make those decisions for himself.”

  * * *

  Simone left the hospital in a daze. She was thrilled her pregnancy was not in danger. Even so, the confirmation that she would be giving birth to three babies was shockingly real.

  She returned home just as Naomi and Cecelia pulled into her circular driveway. Hugging them both, she blinked away stupid tears. “Thanks for coming. I really want to finish all the details for the masquerade ball. The nausea is better for the moment, but it might come back again. I want all my ducks in a row before that happens.”

  “If it happens,” Naomi insisted as she gathered up a stack of file folders and followed the other two up the steps.

  Cecelia nodded. “Think positive.”

  Simone didn’t shoot back with a sarcastic retort. Naomi was entitled to her optimism. After all, she was the only one not slated to be a parent in the near future. Cecelia, on the other hand, should know better. Even though she seemed to be sailing through her own pregnancy, surely she didn’t think the rigors of childbirth and motherhood could be withstood using perky catchphrases.

  Suddenly, the truth dawned on Simone. Cecelia wouldn’t be any help at all with the triplets. She and Deacon would have their own bundle of joy. How had Simone ignored that glaring reality? Maybe because Cecelia seemed so normal. Not to mention the fact that the three friends had barely seen each other in the past few weeks.

  As the other two women spread all their work on the dining room table, Simone grabbed a handful of plain crackers. “You want anything?” she asked.

  Naomi shook her head. “I’m good.”

  Cecelia declined, as well. “
Let’s get started,” she said. “We have a lot to do.”

  Planning an event of this magnitude was fun but challenging. Cecelia had struggled at length with color-coded spreadsheets to work out the placement of tables in the large room. The final information would be transferred onto diagrams so the volunteers and hotel staff would have something to work from during decorating and setting the tables.

  Naomi, a gifted amateur artist, had sketched out three different themes and color palettes for the event as a whole. “I like the silver and navy,” she said. “But do we need an accent color?”

  Simone and Cecelia studied the other two contenders. Cecelia pointed at the brightest of the lot. “These colors are great, but they remind me more of a beachy summer event.”

  “I agree,” Simone said. “And I think the burgundy and gray is too dark.”

  Naomi nodded. “So we’re going with the silver and navy?”

  Cecelia nodded. “I do like it the best. We could always add some pops of crimson.”

  “Perfect,” Naomi said.

  Simone jotted notes in her phone. Pregnancy brain must be a real condition, because she was already having trouble remembering things. She hoped one of the dresses she had ordered would fit. With the color scheme they had selected, the red would work nicely.

  After an hour, most of the urgent decisions had been made. Naomi yawned, still in the midst of jet lag. Cecelia excused herself to call Deacon about something. Simone nibbled the end of her fingernail.

  “Naomi,” she said quietly.

  “Hmm...” Her friend blinked and sat up straight. “Sorry. I should have flown home yesterday. Early-morning flights are a killer.”

  “Do you still think me getting pregnant is a terrible idea?”

  Naomi lifted an eyebrow. “Does it matter? That horse is out of the barn, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  “Well, duh. But yes, it does matter.”

  “Why?”

  Simone jumped to her feet and took a glass out of the cabinet, keeping her back to Naomi so the other woman couldn’t see her face. “I know you won’t lie to me.”

  “Damn.” Naomi sighed. “Nothing like being boxed into a corner. Look at me when I say this.”

  “That bad, is it?” Simone managed a smile.

  Naomi drummed her fingers on the countertop. “I don’t understand why you did it. I don’t know how in the world you’re going to manage. I’m worried about the risks of childbirth and a complicated pregnancy. I’m feeling like an outsider while you and Cecelia are in some special club I can’t understand. I’m confused about why Troy Hutchinson is hanging around. I know I want to help you, but my on-camera schedule is not very flexible right now. The whole situation seems like a recipe for disaster.”

  “Wow...” A tear rolled down Simone’s cheek.

  “Let me finish.” Naomi stood up and wrapped her arms around Simone. “I know you, Simone. I know your generous heart and your loyalty. I’ve seen you make big mistakes, but I’ve always noted how hard you work to overcome them. If you want babies, then by damn, I’m going to play the auntie role to the hilt. And if anybody in Royal has the guts to criticize you, they’ll have to answer to me.”

  Simone sniffed. “I think I got snot on your shirt.”

  “No worries.”

  “It’s a designer piece, isn’t it?”

  Naomi gave her one last hug and released her. “Gucci. But my dry cleaner is a miracle worker.”

  Cecelia returned right about then, all starry-eyed from her conversation with her fiancé. She stared at the two in the kitchen. “What did I miss?”

  “Not a thing,” Naomi said. “Simone was being stupid, but I straightened her out.”

  Cecelia sniffed. “You shouldn’t be unkind to a pregnant woman. We need to be cossetted.”

  Simone shook her head ruefully. Cecelia—blonde, tall and gorgeous on any given day—was absolutely radiant right now. “I’m fine. Believe me.”

  Naomi changed the subject. “Have either of you heard any more about the mysterious Maverick?”

  Simone felt her face freeze. She knew she should disclose the contents of her own threatening email, but she was afraid. “The rumor in town is that he or she has gone underground. Things have been suspiciously quiet.”

  Cecelia huffed. “Good riddance, I say. After the pain he caused me and some of the other members of the TCC, he should be prepared for backlash.”

  After that, the conversation drifted back to the upcoming masquerade ball. Simone ordered pizza for the three of them. When it arrived, they all sat in the backyard to enjoy the evening.

  By eight o’clock Simone was drooping. “I hate to run you off, but I have an old-lady bedtime right now.” The fatigue came in waves, threatening to squash her beneath its weight.

  They walked back through the house and out onto the front porch. After exchanging hugs, Naomi slid behind the wheel of her car. She had picked up Cecelia on the way. “Call us if you need anything.”

  Cecelia nodded. “I don’t like you being here alone. What happened to the yummy Dr. Hutchinson?”

  “He has a job, you know.” Simone managed a cheery smile. “I’m doing lots better. Don’t worry about me.”

  As the car drove away, she bit her lip, hard enough to remind herself that she was a proud, strong, independent woman. She didn’t need Naomi or Cecelia or even Hutch to hold her hand for the next six months.

  After turning off the lights and locking up the house, she took a shower and curled up in her bed with the TV remote. She was too restless to read.

  Hutch was gone. She might as well get used to it.

  The trouble was, everywhere she looked, she saw him. Laughing at her in the kitchen...caring for her in the bedroom when she was too sick to stand...holding her up as he coaxed her through laps around the backyard.

  The man was a healer. Looking after the needy was what made him tick. She couldn’t and shouldn’t read too much into the fact that he had made himself available as her round-the-clock personal physician.

  Really personal. She moved restlessly in the bed. It was humiliating to realize that despite his disdain and their argument and his icy exit, she still wanted him.

  Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was only nine forty-five. Earlier, she’d been exhausted. Now, with yearning and arousal pulsing through her veins, she had no desire to sleep. At all. With a mutter of ridicule for her own foolishness, she climbed out of bed. After putting on old jeans and a soft cotton sweater in blue and gray stripes, she shoved her feet into espadrilles and tossed her hair up in a ponytail.

  She didn’t have a clue about the location of Hutch’s temporary apartment. But she did know which house he had bought. It was the only one for sale in her neighborhood. Suddenly, her curiosity overcame her good sense.

  The pizza she had eaten earlier rolled suspiciously in her stomach, but she ignored it. She was on an investigative mission. Soon, Hutch was going to be living very close to her. What if he brought beautiful women home with him? What if Simone saw them arriving and departing in a steady stream? How was she going to handle that?

  The For Sale sign was still up in the front yard, but the Realtor had tacked a Sold banner diagonally across the original notice. Simone parked in the driveway and got out. The landscaping looked scruffy. Nothing a master gardener couldn’t take care of in a week or two.

  Unlike Simone’s more modern home, this was one of the last original structures on the street. It probably dated back to the earliest days of Royal. She remembered that the previous owner, or maybe the one before him, had gutted the inside and created a more open floor plan.

  Of course, the front door was locked. Someone had left a single light burning somewhere down the hall. She had to be content with peering through a window. The hardwood floors gleamed. In the front
foyer, a set of stairs led upward to the second floor. Did Hutch have plans to settle down and fill his new home with children and a wife?

  A wide porch ran all the way around the main floor of the house. It would be perfect for swings and flowerpots and maybe even a hammock on the side facing away from the street. She sat on the back steps and propped her hands behind her. The night breeze picked up, raising gooseflesh on her arms beneath the light sweater.

  Hutch had clearly come home to Royal planning to stay. He’d been awarded a prestigious job, and he had family nearby. Everything he could possibly want, Royal had to offer.

  It would be up to Simone to learn how to be friendly without betraying her secret. Hutch could never know she still loved him.

  Moodily, she kicked at a cricket that hopped around her shoe. “Go away,” she said. “I don’t like pests.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean me.”

  The deep voice startled her. She jumped to her feet, and as she did so, her toe caught the edge of the top step. She pitched forward in slow motion, striking her knee hard on the wooden floor of the porch.

  Hutch reached for her, but she went all the way down in an ungainly heap. Pain shot from her shin to her toe.

  “Did you hit your head?” he asked urgently, squatting beside her as she struggled to sit up.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gaped at him. “Seriously? You don’t even think I’m capable of assessing my own injuries?”

  “Do you have a medical degree?” he asked mildly.

  Refusing to admit that her leg hurt like hell, she shook her head. “No, Doctor, I don’t. I can tell you with confidence, though, I’m fine.”

  He helped her to her feet. “What are you doing at my house?”

  That was a tricky question. He didn’t sound mad, but he didn’t come across as friendly, either.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So you thought breaking and entering was the way to go?”

  Thirteen