"I want to see them," I said as I kicked off the blankets and tried to stand.
"No walking, wheelchair only. You come with a set of instructions," he said as he held up a folder with "Alexia Hale" printed on it.
He'd scribbled "Cobb" under it.
I pushed the button for the nurse. She entered the room and helped me clean up. Childbirth was a messy business. It took both of them to get me in the chair. Ben pushed me down the hall and stopped at the desk. Our hospital bracelets were scanned, and we were allowed entry.
Familiar voices greeted me.
"I allowed them to have visitors while you rested," Ben said.
"He's a heartbreaker. Those pouty lips and a two-day beard, women will swoon. Mark my words, he'll leave the nursery with a few phone numbers," Irene said.
"If this was a bar, he would be punching all the guys hitting on his sister. She's stunning. Money can't buy this shade of blonde," Eleanor said.
"So you approve?" I asked.
My sisters sat in rocking chairs holding my children. They both got up and laid a sleeping baby in each arm and kissed me. I held them close, feeling their hearts beat.
"What are their names?" Irene asked.
"They didn't tell you?" I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Three months later, the museum entered its final stages. The letter rooms were decorated. The exhibits had been crated and shipped. The curator and staff had been busy working on the grand opening.
We did the final walk-through of the house and signed the papers. Ben hadn't lived in a suburb in twenty years.
"The quiet is deafening," he said.
The sticking point for us was a nanny.
Ben said yes. I said no.
"I want to care for my own children," I said.
"Of course, but with two, you will need some help. She will not replace you by any means. Just supplement your efforts. One day you might like to go out alone. She would be the permanent baby-sitter."
"Please let me try on my own. I'll do a good job, I promise."
"You'll be the best parent ever. A nanny will allow you to come up for air once in a while."
"All of the duties of the household have been assigned. I'll save us money, and I won't have some cute girl sniffing around you."
"What?"
"Read the tabloids. All the celebrity guys divorce their wives and marry the nannies."
"I plan to chase you for decades to come."
"Maybe you should, help me drop these last twenty pounds," I said.
* * *
The Helen Nance Cobb Children's Museum opened to much fanfare. Donors and their families were invited to have a private tour. The press reported live from the turquoise carpet: Helen's favorite color. Local dignitaries, politicians, and the general powers that be from the city and state were all in attendance.
Ben needed to make a speech to thank everyone for all their efforts and hard work. Benjamin Emanuel Cobb held his grandson, Paul Benjamin Hale-Cobb. I stood holding our daughter, Margaret Helen Hale-Cobb. After his remarks, our family of five posed for the photographers. Everyone cooed over the babies. They were angelic. Paul was the image of Ben: dark gray eyes, black hair, chiseled chin and nose. Just like my dream. Margaret was me: small frame, fair skin, a cap of blonde hair.
Paul was older and Margaret's protector. He reached for her, especially when she fussed.
After an hour, the children were getting cranky. They were packed and put in their car seats. Ben carried Paul, Mr. Cobb carried Margaret, and I carried the bags.
The driver waited in the car. I sat between the babies in the back seat of the town car. Both Cobb men leaned in to kiss the three of us goodbye.
We drove away, but only went a short distance and pulled into an alley. Something was wrong.
I sat forward and was greeted by a grinning Richard Grant.
"You're supposed to be in jail," I said stunned to see him.
"Bailed out. Now keep your mouth shut," he said in a hoarse voice.
He waved a billy club toward us, nicking Paul's car seat.
"The world would be better off with less Cobbs," he said menacingly.
Threaten me, I was scared. Threaten my children, he was dead.
I grabbed his arm, sunk my teeth into his wrist, and he dropped the club on the passenger seat. Both babies wailed, and there was a scream from the street. He yanked me up by my hair with his other hand. The upper part of my body wedged in between the seats.
He punched me in the back of the head and the side. I saw stars but didn't let go of his arm. He clutched his hand around my throat and squeezed. My bite faltered and everything dimmed. I used the last of my strength to push his little finger backward. The click of the bone breaking made him scream and release me. I grabbed the club and swung at his head, clipping his ear. Another pass smashed his nose. I lost my grip and dropped the club. We both dove for it. His fingers almost touched it. I needed another weapon. I reached back in the diaper bag and grabbed my portable breast pump. I clocked him in the side of the head with it. He turned as I switched it on. I aimed for his mouth and the suction drew in his bottom lip. He pulled at it, then seemed to seize up, clutched his chest, and passed out.
I popped the lock, swung the passenger side door open, and started to scream for help. Two guys rushed to the car, and a woman was on her cell phone, presumably to call nine-one-one.
I fell into the backseat, unbuckled my children, and held them as I listened to the screaming sirens.
After the paramedics checked the three of us out, the police transferred us into the back seat of a squad car. I rocked my babies and said nothing. Lights flashed around us, and I watched Grant being loaded into an ambulance. A car screeched to a halt and both Cobb men jumped out. My father-in-law tried to drag Grant off of the gurney. Three paramedics were on his back, but he still punched Grant in the face.
Ben saw me in the car and opened the door. He slid in next to me and took Margaret from me. I began to cry and hiccupped my way through our ordeal.
"Grant hit Mark from behind, tied him up, and stole the car keys," Ben told me. "When the car pulled away, it dawned on me I didn't see him. One of the guards found Mark and called me. Luckily, there is a GPS in each of my cars. I grabbed Irene's car and raced here. When I saw the police had cordoned off the street, my heart stopped. I should have known you would handle it." He kissed my cheek.
"Is Grant dead?" I asked.
"Probably not, but between you and my dad, I'd say you both tried your damnedest."
"Grant had pure hatred in his eyes. I was terrified, but as soon as he moved toward the babies, I wanted to kill him. Twice."
Ben put his arm around me and kissed me again.
"Protector and defender, you've got this mom thing down."
He was right. I'd found my calling. The hours and pay sucked, but oh the benefits.
Weeks after the press and attention subsided, the four of us went back to the museum for an uneventful visit.
During the night, I heard my babies stirring. Feeding time.
I wandered over to the nursery, pushed open the door, strolled over to the cribs, and changed both diapers. I sat down and had both babies tucked under my arms. Both contently nursed, as I hummed softly. My singing voice would give them nightmares.
"There's a song about brass and me buying a mirror, but I don't remember all the words, and I no longer sing in private," I said to my hungry children. "Your mean old aunts recorded me once while I sang in the shower. I sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard. Never try to hit a high note underwater."
The door opened wider, and Ben stepped in, yawning.
"Am I supposed to buy a mockingbird or a goat?" Ben asked as he trudged closer to us.
I checked the double platinum bands and the four-carat, square-cut diamond ring on my finger. My emerald, the babies' birthstone, ring, necklace, and earrings were in my jewelry box.
"Your shopping list includes diapers, clothes, sh
oes, braces, cars."
"I better keep my day job," he said, leaning over and kissing the tops of my breasts. "Hey, you two, leave some for me."
"Right now, they get dibs," I said, giving him a light head butt.
"You are with the three people in the world who enjoy daily access to your nude body. We need a color-coded calendar to make sure of equal time."
He sat on the floor at my feet and began to massage them. I sighed and put my head back. He yawned after fifteen minutes. His eyelids battled to stay open.
"You need your sleep. I won't be much longer."
"You're right," he said, but instead of leaving me for the warmth of our bed, he curled up on the floor and closed his eyes. I heard his soft snoring in seconds.
Surrounded in love and contentment, I knew my life would only get better. Ben had been attentive and devoted to the babies. We never hired a nanny. Ben could barely be parted from them. I was his designated helper.
When they were done eating, I held the babies and rocked for a bit.
"Wasn't it fun to spend the day with Daddy? We were at Grandma's museum today. We'll go there a lot when you get bigger. She taught Daddy how to draw. She wrote stories too. My favorite one is Benjamin's Bike. It's about Daddy when he was little."
Once upon a time Benjamin wanted a new bike.
* * * * *
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* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Long before DVDs, Mary Jo saw Gone with the Wind in the theater. She was ten. The story never left her. She read the book three times. She saw the movie every time it was re-released. GWTW will be seventy-five years old this year and is her favorite movie. She would only make a minor change: Leave Ashley to Melanie and hold on tight to Rhett. Her writing sprung from reading, watching, and always wanting to edit.
Mary Jo was born in Chicago and has never strayed far from home. She majored in Accounting and received her MBA in Finance. She worked in the investment and banking businesses.
Mary Jo is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Chicago North RWA, and Windy City RWA.
To learn more about Mary Jo Burke, visit her online at: http://www.maryjoburke.com/
* * * * *
BOOKS BY MARY JO BURKE
Spicing Up Trouble
Cupid's Busted Arrow
Mother Nature's Man
All Hours Trading
* * * * *
SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed Spicing Up Trouble, check out this sneak peek of another romantic read from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
FALSE START
by
BARBARA VALENTIN
PROLOGUE
"My weaknesses have always been food and men—in that order."
– Dolly Parton
Of all the things to say to a bride-to-be on her wedding day, "You have no business wearing that skinny minidress with your full figure, and in a church!" isn't one of them.
But Mattie had other things to worry about besides her Aunt Viv's chiding. The ceremony was scheduled to start in two minutes, and the church, overflowing with three shades of fragrant peonies and more than a hundred well-adorned guests, was missing just one thing. The groom.
"I'm sure he'll be here any minute," Claudia, the matron of honor, promised with all of the sincerity of a used-car salesman.
Claudia never did like Eddie. When she learned the object of her baby sister's lifelong, one-sided crush had finally balled up and proposed, she made every attempt to hide her disdain. Almost.
"All people can be divided into two groups, Mattie—givers and takers. You are a giver. Eddie is a taker." Claudia said this so frequently, Mattie expected to see it cross-stitched on a pillow as a wedding gift.
Maybe she was right. Against Eddie's smoldering good looks and irresistible charm Mattie's better judgment abandoned her. Even now, with her stomach in knots, she still made excuses for him.
"Maybe he overslept and had a flat tire on his way to the church. And he forgot to charge his cell phone. And he's having another one of his migraines. And, and, and…"
Claudia rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
The dimly lit storage closet-turned-bridal-room at St. Matthias church felt claustrophobic even in the best of circumstances. Unable to pace back and forth to ease her anxiety, Mattie snuck a frantic peek into the church. Her wide-set eyes swept the pews like a pair of heat-guided missiles seeking their target, scanning the area in front of the altar where Father Bennet stood waiting. At his side was the one element of the wedding to which Mattie did not agree. In fact, she vehemently protested but to no avail.
Nick DeRosa. Why Eddie chose his estranged twin brother over any of his esteemed colleagues at his LaSalle Street investment firm, she had no idea. The awkwardness of their greeting the night before was matched only by its impropriety. Mistaking him for Eddie, Mattie had pulled his face down to hers and, with all of the exuberance of a jubilant bride-to-be, planted a passionate kiss on his surprised lips.
That he had the same chiseled Mediterranean features and wore his chestnut-colored locks in the same style as his brother's was hardly her fault.
That he kissed her back was his.
Hours later, as she was leaving the rehearsal dinner, Nick managed to confirm, if not worsen, the bride-to-be's opinion of him when she overheard him ask Eddie, "Why do you want to marry somebody like Mattie?"
Somebody like Mattie.
Taken out of context, that question could be twisted any number of malicious ways, and twist it Mattie did. But, given that she was less than a day away from becoming Mrs. Eduardo DeRosa, co-owner of a custom-built Gold Coast penthouse and a cherry red Ferrari, she simply added the insult to the already long list of offenses Nick had incurred against her over the years and filed it away for future reference.
Squinting at the spot in which the groom was supposed to be standing, Mattie discovered her veil did little to obscure the obvious. Eddie was indeed missing. She stared so long and so hard, hoping to will him into existence, that Nick frowned at her, glanced behind him, and delivered an awkward wave.
Oh, puh-leeze. How he could possibly share the same DNA as his brother was beyond Mattie's comprehension.
"It's 2:15." Claudia's voice slapped her back to the present.
"I'm sure he'll be here any minute," Mattie heard herself say. But this time, even she didn't believe it.
She turned her gaze to the window, panic welling up inside of her. Seeing the black limousine parked at the curb decked out with ribbons, more flowers, and a professionally hand-painted "Just Married" sign affixed to the back bumper, she whispered, "I don't understand."
She was so thrilled when Eddie proposed that she offered to take care of everything, right down to the color of the bowties he and the groomsmen would wear. Figuring her bills would become their bills post-nuptials, she adopted Eddie's own mantra of "only the best" when selecting the flowers, the photographer, and the Drake Hotel for their reception.
Curiously, the honeymoon was the only thing Eddie insisted on handling. He wouldn't even tell her where they were going.
Claudia gripped Mattie by her bare shoulders. "Nobody can get hold of him. He's not coming, honey. I'll go tell Father Bennet. Wait here." Before leaving, she took her sister's chin in her hand and asked, "You OK?"
Mattie nodded. When she heard the door click shut behind her, she turned and faced her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had starved herself for weeks to fit into the Vera Wang gown she had dreamed of wearing before Eddie even slipped the two-carat diamond on her finger. Despite the weeks of deprivation, it took only a few seconds to convince herself that her Aunt Viv was rightshe looked like a sausage stuffed into a casing of silk taffeta and hand-sewn mother-of-pearl beading. The singsong rhythm of cruel childhood taunting echoed in her ears.
Fatty
Mattie, Fatty Mattie, Fatty Mattie…
The more she stared, the more her chin and lower lip started to quiver. She closed her eyes and tried to make the nightmare disappear.
It was 2:33. She stood there frozen, waiting for Claudia. In the stillness of the unventilated room, filled with hymnals, vestments, and choir robes, there was nothing left for her to do but let the truth sink in. Eddie didn't oversleep, get the time wrong, or have a flat tire on his way to the church.
He had stood her up.
An uncharacteristic darkness settled over her as she envisioned him writhing in pain from one of his debilitating migraines. She was surprised and somewhat disturbed by how much the image lifted her spirits.
As Mattie stood transfixed, the corset underneath her gown started constricting around her midsection like a lace-covered python. Her head began to swirl. Questions started racing through her mind. How could she have misread the cues? Was she that desperate? A combustible mix of despair and fury began to well up inside of her.
Where's Claudia?
She needed her help to get out of her gown, out of the church, and out of this nightmare.
Almost on cue, Mattie heard the door open behind her, but it was a male voice that spoke her name in a low, apologetic tone. "Mat-"
As she delivered a two-carat-weighted left hook to his perfect chin, she felt the fifteen silk-covered buttons holding her bodice together pop with the force of champagne corks.
"Take that you son of a"
She took a step back. With buttons ricocheting off the walls, the windows, and the mirror, she wondered aloud, "Why aren't you wearing the white bowtie?"
CHAPTER ONE
"One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well."
Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy Page 29