Single with Twins

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “I’m ignoring you, Susie Jenkins,” Heather said. “How much do I owe you for the girls’ movie tickets and my share of hiring Becky to watch over them?”

  “It’s my treat. It’s not every day of the week that I get strawberries and bagels for breakfast. I came out the winner in this deal.” Susie paused. “Listen, why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and take a nap while the kids are gone. You’ve got to be emotionally and physically drained from this morning’s fun and games. I’ll pick up the kids later, so don’t worry about that.”

  “Thank you for everything, Susie,” Heather said. “You’ve been wonderful through this nightmare, just stepped in and took charge and I appreciate it so much.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” she said, getting to her feet. “Friends also have the privilege of telling it like it is. I sincerely believe you’re falling in love with Mack, Heather, and that you’re being too quick to whip out the end-of-the-story bit. Oh, by the way, you now own a baby girl kitten. Emma smuggled it into the movies under her shirt and has named it Maxine in honor of her uncle Mack, who saved her very own kitten’s life, as well as her twin sister’s.”

  “Oh, good night,” Heather said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “That’s all we need around here…another mouth to feed.”

  “Hey, look at the bright side,” Susie said, starting across the room. “It could have been a pit bull that Melissa had been determined to go after in that tree. Emma would be trying to smuggle that beast into the movies.”

  Heather laughed. “Perish the thought. Emma is really attached to this kitty already?”

  “Like super glue,” Susie said as she left the kitchen. “Maxine is a Marshall, no doubt about it. See you later, Heather.”

  “Thanks again, Susie,” Heather called after her.

  After Susie left, a silence fell over the kitchen and with it came a wave of exhaustion that swept through Heather. She got to her feet, her destination the lumpy sofa in the living room where, she decided, she would indulge in a short nap. When she reached the sofa, she hesitated, glancing in the direction of the hall leading to her bedroom.

  She’d check on Mack before she allowed herself to collapse and rest, she thought, make certain that he was still soundly asleep and didn’t need anything.

  In her bedroom, Heather placed her computer chair next to the bed and sat, her gaze riveted on Mack who was deeply asleep.

  He was pale beneath his tan, and the bulky white bandage that encased his shoulder, arm and chest looked heavy and uncomfortable.

  Oh, Mack, I’m so sorry this happened, Heather thought, tears misting her eyes. She wished she could turn back the clock to before she had told the twins to go outside and wait for their uncle Mack, had asked them, instead, to help her set the table for breakfast.

  She’d shooed the girls from her bedroom because they were pressing her about what she and Uncle Mack had done after returning to the house from the fancy restaurant the night before. To wiggle her way out of the conversation, she’d sent them to the front yard to wait for Mack.

  How far back would she turn that clock if she had the magic power to do it? Would she not have made glorious love with Mack so there would be no need to avoid the topic of what had transpired when they’d returned to the house after dinner?

  “No,” she whispered.

  Even if she had a magic wand, she wouldn’t erase what she and Mack had shared last night. She intended to cherish every wondrous moment, every memory, of that beautiful joining.

  Mack stirred in his sleep, groaned, then stilled.

  He was in so much pain, Heather thought, fresh tears filling her eyes. She hated this, she really did. She felt so helpless to relieve Mack’s suffering. She really, really hated this, because she cared so much for Mack and—

  The conversation with Susie suddenly floated through Heather’s exhausted mind and she frowned. Susie was convinced that she was falling in love with Mack Marshall, which simply wasn’t true. Susie was fantasizing, creating a romantic scenario of the young widow with the two little children finding new and lasting love and…well, it would make a good movie, but it wasn’t remotely close to reality.

  Yes, she cared for Mack. A lot. Which was more than a little. But that was a long way from being in the process of falling in love with the man. Nor was Mack falling in love with her.

  And that was that.

  And that was fine.

  The way it should be, given the circumstances.

  “Right, Mack?” Heather said. “Right.”

  Mack shifted his head on the pillow and Heather held her breath for a moment, afraid she’d disturbed him by speaking out loud. He quieted again and she got to her feet.

  “Nap,” she said. “I need a nap.”

  “Heather,” Mack said, his voice thick.

  Heather’s eyes widened as she looked down at him, then realized he was apparently having a drug-induced dream.

  “Heather,” Mack said again.

  Heather moved closer to the bed and leaned over. “Yes? I’m here, Mack. Just rest, sleep.”

  “Don’t want…” he mumbled. “No.”

  “What don’t you want?” Heather said. “Maybe I can fix it if you tell me. Oh, Mack, I don’t even know if you can hear me.”

  Mack took a shuddering breath, but didn’t open his eyes. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and Heather’s heart ached as she looked at him.

  “No,” he repeated. “No, I don’t want…don’t want…to leave you, Heather. Tree roots…stay with…Heather, twins…find…my…dream…no, no…can’t do it…can’t do it…father’s son…must go…go…go…”

  Heather straightened and two tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  “I know,” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “I know you can’t stay with me and the girls. I know that, but…”

  Heather shook her head, then turned and ran from the room, tears streaming down her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mack stirred, opened his eyes slowly, then snapped them closed again as he came to the instant conclusion that there was a jackhammer pounding in his head and someone was drilling deep for oil in his shoulder. He also registered the late-arriving fact that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

  “Uncle Mack?” a little voice whispered. “I saw you open your eyes. Are you awake? It’s me…Melissa.”

  Oh, right, Mack thought groggily. Melissa, Emma…and this was Heather’s bed he was occupying. Weird. He couldn’t for the life of him remember how he got here.

  The last clear image he had in his brain was taking part in a rather confusing conversation with Heather in an examining room at the hospital. Beyond that…nothing; his mind was a total blank.

  “Uncle Mack?”

  Mack opened his eyes again and turned his throbbing head on the pillow to see Melissa standing next to the bed. She was wearing her nightgown and had bandages on her forehead and chin with cartoon pictures of a strange-looking bald kid, and another one with orange hair, buck teeth and heavy square glasses.

  “Hi, Melissa,” he said. “How ya doin’? Cool bandages you’ve got there.”

  “Rugrats,” Melissa said, her voice still very hushed. “I snuck in here to see you while my mom is on the phone, ’cause I gotta talk to you, I really do.”

  Mack shifted slightly and stifled a groan as the pain in his shoulder increased, shooting all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

  “Go for it,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

  Melissa glanced quickly at the door, then leaned closer to Mack, her nose only inches from his.

  “I wanna say thank you a bunch for catching me when I fell out of the tree ’cause I really didn’t want to die and go to heaven and be an angel yet, and I’m really, really sorry that your shoulder got all icky and bloody and stuff ’cause you grabbed me ’fore I splatted on the ground, and…and…” Tears filled Melissa’s eyes. “And I love you, Uncle Mack, and I hope you feel better real soon.”

  “Ah, Melis
sa,” Mack said, a strange achy sensation gripping his throat as she finished speaking her heartfelt words. “I’m going to be just fine. Don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re all right, sweetheart. Hey, I’m going to complain to the doctor about this boring white bandage he has me wrapped in. He didn’t even give me cool stuff like Rugrats.”

  Melissa frowned. “Buzzy’s mom used up all their Rugrats bandages on me. Maybe I can take some pennies out of the dream piggy and buy you some.”

  “No, no,” Mack said quickly. “Those pennies are for your very own home, your dream. You can’t use them for anything else. I really don’t need Rugrats bandages. Okay?”

  “’Kay…I guess.” Melissa sniffled. “Are you sure the doctor fixed you good? I don’t want you to die and go to heaven and be an angel, either.”

  Mack chuckled. “I don’t think I’m a candidate for being an angel. The image doesn’t quite fit. Anyway, I promise you that I’m going to be all right. I just need a little bit of time for my shoulder to heal up again.”

  “That’s good,” Melissa said, nodding. “That’s really good. You can stay right there in Mommy’s bed and heal up like you said.”

  “Well, that’s a nice offer,” Mack said, “but I’ll be heading back to my hotel in the morning.”

  “Wrong,” Heather said, coming into the room. “You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Marshall. Melissa, what are you doing in here? I told you that Uncle Mack had to get his rest.”

  “He opened his eyes, Mom,” Melissa said. “I stood here, and stood here, and then he opened his eyes. I had to tell him I’m glad he caught me when I fell out of the tree ’cause I don’t want to be an angel in heaven yet.”

  “I see,” Heather said, smiling warmly at her daughter. “Well, I’m glad you realized that you owed Uncle Mack a big thank-you. Go have your snack with Emma, then it will be time for bed.”

  “’Kay.” Melissa kissed Mack on the cheek, then hiked up her nightgown and ran from the room.

  Heather sat in the chair next to the bed.

  “You slept for hours, Mack,” she said. “Dr. Kildare wasn’t kidding when he said he’d given you a whopping big pain shot.”

  “Dr. Kildare?”

  “That was his name. Don’t you remember?”

  “Vaguely,” Mack said. “The scene at the hospital is sort of a blur in my mind. I seem to recall a conversation that didn’t make much sense.”

  “Oh, that,” Heather said, smiling. “You’re probably getting flashes of when I was passing myself off as your wife because I was afraid they wouldn’t tell me anything about your condition if I didn’t, might have even insisted on keeping you there.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mack said. “Honey.” He paused. “Hey, look at that. You’re blushing.”

  “You and Susie should start a club.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” Heather said, shaking her head. “How are you feeling? Do you think you could eat something?”

  “I feel like I’ve been run over by a very large truck,” Mack said, “and thank you but no, I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, in the morning you’re going to have to eat, hungry or not. Your body needs nourishment in order to heal properly.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “When I get back to the hotel tomorrow, I’ll have room service bring me one of everything on the menu. How’s that?”

  “That is not going to happen because you’re staying right where you are,” Heather said. “You heard me say that while Melissa was still here in the room. This isn’t open for discussion, Mack. The doctor was very adamant about the importance of your getting the proper rest you need and having help doing things that take two hands to accomplish. Consider yourself a prisoner in my bed.”

  “I’d have to be a fool to complain about that.” Mack smiled. “Gotcha. You’re blushing again.” His smiled faded. “We never got a chance to do the…you know…the morning-after thing. No regrets?”

  “None. I promised you that,” she said. “It was a beautiful, memory-making night.”

  No past. No future. Just now.

  There were those words again, hollering like crazy in his head. The words that caused a cold fist to tighten in his gut, and threw him off-kilter. Which didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Forget it, he told himself. He didn’t have the energy to explore his feelings at the moment.

  “Heather,” he said, “I really can’t stay here. You have enough to do with it being tax season without playing nursemaid to me.”

  “Are you thirsty?”

  “You are not listening to me, Heather,” Mack said, frowning.

  “Nope, I’m not,” Heather said, getting to her feet and starting across the room. “You’re just going to have to live with the fact that you’re going to be the recipient of some good old-fashioned tender lovin’ care, Marshall style.” She stopped at the doorway and glanced back at Mack over her shoulder. “Honey.”

  Mack chuckled as Heather disappeared from his view.

  Honey, his mind echoed. Yes, it was all coming back to him now, the scene in the examining room. Heather had been fantastic, so quick on her feet, just stepped up and declared herself to be his wife.

  He could remember too that in his very drugged state he’d liked the sound of it all…he and Heather as husband and wife, having pledged their love and exchanged vows declaring they would be together forever. He’d even told her that they should make a baby, might even create cute little twins.

  Man, a hefty serving of potent drugs sure could scramble a person’s brain. Mack Marshall married? Mack Marshall so deeply in love that he intended to spend the remainder of his days with Heather, as her husband, the father of Melissa and Emma? Hoped to be blessed with more babies born of his love for Heather? To settle in and settle down in one spot? Have roots like a tree?

  “Never happen,” he muttered, then moved carefully to attempt to ease the pain in his shoulder.

  Would it?

  No, no, of course not. But why, he wondered, was he registering such a sense of relief and well-being, knowing he was going to be staying right where he was until his shoulder was on the mend?

  The image of his big, fancy hotel suite was so cold, empty and lonely. But here? In this shabby little house? There was warmth and laughter here, sunshine and caring, and…and love? Not just family love, not just Uncle Mack love, but man and woman love, Mack and Heather love? In love? With each other?

  Ah, come on, Marshall, get a grip. He was still under the influence of the drugs, wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t falling in love with Heather.

  Just because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, just because the lovemaking he’d shared with her had been not only physically sensational but had evoked emotions he’d never felt before, just because his heart quickened at the very sight of Heather Marshall didn’t mean…

  “Oh-h-h, cripe,” he said, dragging his free hand down his face.

  His agent, Marilyn, who had known him for more years than he could count, had told him days ago that he had “heart trouble” in regard to Heather. Mack Marshall, she had said, was down for the count.

  He’d chalked up the malarkey she was laying on him to the fact that he had wakened her in the middle of the night.

  But what had prompted Marilyn to say all that? What had he said and how had he said it that had caused her to reach such a far-out conclusion?

  Oh, forget this nonsense. If a man was in love with a woman, he sure as hell would know it. Wouldn’t he? But what if that man had never been in love, didn’t know what the signs and signals were? Could love sneak up on a guy and knock him over without him even being aware that it was happening? Damn it, he didn’t know the answer to that question. He didn’t know, at the moment, a helluva lot of things.

  Well, he’d better figure out what was going on because this was going to drive him right out of his mind. But then again, even if he was in love with Heather, it wouldn’t change the ultimate outcome. He was still his father’s son
, had to be on the move, couldn’t be a tree with roots. So why bother to attempt to discover his true feelings for Heather? He’d be leaving Tucson just as soon as he was able to travel and—

  And he didn’t want to go!

  “That’s it,” Mack said. “That’s all. I refuse to carry on any further nonsensical conversations with myself. Brain, turn off. I’m going to sleep.”

  Mack closed his eyes and willed himself to relax, to let the silence of sleep claim him, to gain a reprieve from his tangled thoughts.

  “Mack?”

  He opened his eyes again and drank in the sight of the trio standing at the foot of the bed. The twins were standing on either side of Heather in their matching nightgowns and Heather had her arms wrapped around each of her beautiful daughters.

  There they were, he thought, his heart racing. Heather, Melissa and Emma. His family. There they were. The ones who would cry if he died. There they were. The mother, the children, who were so real and honest and wonderful, and who had accepted him unconditionally, welcomed him, made room for him in their lives.

  And there she was.

  Heather.

  The woman.

  The woman who had stolen his heart for all time.

  The woman, he suddenly knew without a single doubt, whom he loved with every breath in his battered body.

  The woman he was going to leave without her ever knowing how he felt because he couldn’t be for her what she deserved to have.

  And, oh, how it hurt, the pain far greater than the discomfort from his demolished shoulder. Yes, he’d spend the rest of his life alone as he’d always been, but now, because of loving Heather, he’d spend the rest of his life…lonely.

  “Mack, the girls would like to say good-night to you,” Heather said.

  “Sure,” he said, hearing the raspy edge in his voice as emotions swamped him. “You bet.”

  Melissa and Emma came around to the side of the bed, then took turns kissing him on the cheek.

  “Good night, Uncle Mack,” they said in unison.

  Good night, Daddy, Mack’s mind taunted.

  “Sleep well,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.