She glanced away. “Not exactly. They don’t know what’s wrong yet.”
“Oh.” He was silent a moment, then his voice took on an optimistic tone that only quivered a little. “Well, doctoring takes time. Once they figure things out, you’ll be good as new.”
“I know,” she whispered, although she didn’t know at all. She was scared to death, but certainly didn’t want Travis to see that, so she managed what she hoped was a convincing smile. “The twins look adorable. Sue Anne did a wonderful job.”
“Sue Anne didn’t do squat,” Travis muttered, tossing his Stetson on the vacant bed. “Except cackle over the radio while I was getting peed on.”
Peggy felt a draft on her tongue, closed her mouth and was as startled by the concept that Travis could actually have handled the twins as she was by the fact that he was now kneeling beside the bed. “You took care of them…all by yourself?”
“I did my best,” he murmured, gently lifting her feet, guiding them back under the covers. He fluffed her pillow. “Sure are hungry little devils.”
“You fed them?”
He looked stung. “Did you think I’d let ’em starve?”
“Well, no, not on purpose.” She moistened her lips. “I mean, you found the formula?”
“Yep, and ah, well…” He scratched his ear, casting a glance down at the stroller. “Thing is, they kind of went through all of it you had made, what with breakfast and lunch and all, and I figured, well, what with it being near supper time, I figured they might be craving—” he tugged at his shirt collar, drawing Peggy’s attention to a stiff milk stain on his shoulder “—well, you know.”
She looked from his spotted shirt to his tousled hair, which poked up in sticky spirals dusted with some kind of white powder. “Would you like me to feed them?”
Before the words were out of her mouth, Travis had whipped T.J. out of the stroller and plopped him into Peggy’s arms. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” he said, fairly melting with relief.
Peggy hugged T.J.’s warm little body, rubbed her cheek against his silky skin and fought tears of sheer joy. “You picked him up,” she murmured. “You actually picked him up. I can’t believe it.”
“Well, I asked ’em to crawl into the stroller on their own, but they couldn’t quite manage it.” As if to prove the point, Travis scooped Ginny up and tucked her into the crook of his arm. Granted, his movements were a bit awkward, and there was no mistaking the stark terror in his eyes. He smoothed the front of her little jumpsuit, adjusted the elastic bow. “See there, darling, I promised Mommy was going to fix your supper. Cowboys always keep their promises.”
Ginny gazed up adoringly.
Travis’s eyes crinkled. He brushed a tender knuckle across the baby’s cheek.
Peggy watched the loving interaction between Travis and her daughter with awe, and infinite wonder. The contrast of male strength tempered by tender compassion, of worn blue jeans and tiny frills, of boots and baby powder and milk-stained plaid was so overwhelming that her heart ached at the sight.
So this was fatherhood. This was what she had missed, what her children would miss. This was love.
Travis smiled at Ginny, gazing sweetly down at her little face as if he’d forgotten where he was until Peggy coughed the lump from her throat. He glanced up, blushing to the roots of his stiff powdered hair. “Oh, uh, I figured I’d just, umm, kind of keep Ginny company until you’re ready for her.”
Peggy moistened her lips and shifted T.J. in her arms. “I’m ready for her now.”
“You do them both at once?”
“It saves quite a bit of time.”
“Well, yeah, sure, I reckon it would.” For a moment, Travis was oddly hesitant to relinquish the precious bundle. He gazed into Ginny’s face for a moment, felt an odd tug inside his chest, then gentled cradled the baby girl in the crook of her mother’s free arm.
Peggy smiled her thanks, which made Travis’s heart twitch. She turned her attention to the babies, rotated her shoulders, and somehow managed to free her hands from beneath the two squirming infants. Travis realized that she was loosening her clothing, preparing to breast-feed. He knew he should look away, but he was so intensely fascinated by the process that he continued to stare rudely.
Peggy didn’t seem to notice and wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about the nursing procedure. Oddly enough, neither was Travis. It seemed so natural, so nurturing, that he was transformed inside, overcome with wonder. This was motherhood, he realized. This was the purest form of love.
This was what he had missed in his life.
For the first time since he was a child, Travis saw the image of his own mother in his mind’s eye. He remembered her gentle smile, the softness of her hands, the melodic tinkle of her laughter as she’d scooped him into her arms.
Then he remembered whispered voices outside his darkened room the night she died. He remembered his screams and his tears and the pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
He had loved his mother so much. So very, very much.
“Travis?”
He blinked, saw the twins sucking greedily and looked at Peggy in bewilderment.
There was concern in her eyes. “You look a little odd. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, great. Never better.” He glanced down at the twins and felt his cheeks relax into a smile. There was nothing sexual about breast-feeding, he realized, and was vastly relieved. All you could see was a swell of freckled skin above the babies’ fat little cheeks. He’d secretly wondered if the process would, well, arouse him. It didn’t. It did, however, fascinate him and cause a peculiar, rather pleasant billowing sensation inside his chest. “They sure look happy.”
She laughed then, a melodic, tinkling sound that sent shivers down Travis’s spine. “I’d be happy, too, if I’d just spent an entire morning being pampered and fussed over by a handsome cowboy.”
“I didn’t do much—” He widened his eyes. Whoa. Did she say “handsome”? Was it possible that Peggy Saxon, who was prettier than a buckskin filly in a field of starflowers, could actually consider a bowlegged cowboy with a crooked chin to be handsome?
Before Travis could fully digest the implications of that shocking statement, Dr. Amanda Jennings pushed open the door and strode into the room. “Well, well, what have we here?”
Travis whipped a blanket out of the stroller and used it as a modesty shield. The gesture was instinctive, protective, and apparently amusing, since Dr. Jennings concealed a broad smile behind her hand and Peggy burst into laughter.
“I think she’s seen this before,” Peggy said between chuckles. “She is a doctor.”
“Oh. Sure.” Feeling more than a little stupid, Travis lowered the blanket, twisted it behind his back and wished the ground would swallow him whole.
Still grinning, Dr. Jennings opened the clipboard chart. “The lab results are in,” she said cheerfully. “You’re a very lucky lady.”
Travis heard a low hiss and realized that Peggy had exhaled all at once. “I’m all right, then?”
“You certainly will be, with proper treatment.” Softening the ambiguous response with a smile, Dr. Jennings flipped the chart closed and crossed the room. “You’re mildly anemic and there’s evidence of an upper respiratory infection, neither of which are serious by themselves. When coupled with exhaustion and dehydration, however, the effect could have been quite damaging if we hadn’t caught it in time.”
“But she’ll be okay, right, Doc?”
Dr. Jennings glanced up, smiling curiously. “I believe so. We’ll treat the anemia with iron supplements, the infection with antibiotics.” She turned her attention back to Peggy. “I’m most concerned about how dehydrated you were.”
“What caused it?” Peggy asked.
“A combination of things. The infection upset your stomach, so you weren’t able to keep liquids down. That, combined with hot weather, breast-feeding and the antihistamine tablets you were taking for your allergies, led
to a very serious fluid loss.”
“I’m feeling better now,” Peggy insisted, a bit desperately, Travis thought. “I’ve been drinking water like crazy, and I’m not the least bit queasy anymore.”
“That’s good.”
“So, when can I go home?”
Dr. Jennings frowned. “I’d like to keep an eye on you for a while. There’s also the matter of a mild concussion. Nothing serious, but you should be closely observed for a few days in case other symptoms develop. Meanwhile, we’ll start the antibiotic—”
“A few days!” Peggy’s eyes went wild. “Oh, no, I can’t. You don’t understand, I have to take care of my babies….” She shifted her frantic gaze to Travis. “Tell her, Travis, tell her I can’t stay here.”
Jolted, Travis touched his chest with his thumb. “Me? Uh, well, thing is, if the doctor thinks you need to be in the hospital, then that’s where you need to be.”
Peggy sagged back as if she’d been kicked.
Meanwhile, Dr. Jennings had leaned over the bed and was cooing at the feeding babies. “My, you two have grown so fat and sassy since I last saw you.” She angled an empathetic glance at Peggy, who’d paled three shades and seemed ready to cry. “I’m sorry. I know how much you want to go home, but until you’ve gained some strength I can’t in good conscience allow you to return to the same situation that made you ill in the first place. You need rest, Peggy, lots of it.”
Travis stepped forward. “If she had someone to, uh, take care of things, would that make a difference?”
The doctor straightened, regarding him with mild amusement. “If Ms. Saxon is all alone, caring for the demands of two infants, she can’t possibly get the bed rest she needs.”
“She won’t be alone.”
Peggy’s head snapped around. “Travis!”
“I’ll be there day and night, long as it takes.” He avoided Peggy’s shocked stare, focusing instead on the doctor. “So, can she go home, or what?”
Dr. Jennings pursed her lips and tapped a fingernail on the chart’s metal sheath. “Babies take a lot of work, Mr. Stockwell. Are you up to the challenge?”
“Yes’m.” He nearly swallowed his Adam’s apple. Something deep in his brain screamed that he was crazy, that he should take it all back, say he’d made a mistake, and run straight to Cheyenne without so much as a backward glance. He should do all of those things, and he should do them now.
Only it was too late.
“I imagine you are at that,” Dr. Jennings murmured, regarding him thoughtfully. He didn’t much care for the devilish gleam in her eye. “All right, then. If she’s still doing well tomorrow, I’ll sign the release.”
“Tomorrow?” The light in Peggy’s eyes almost made Travis’s terror worthwhile. Almost.
Travis wasn’t exactly sure what he’d gotten himself into, but had the sinking feeling that he’d just skidded onto a one-way road and was staring at headlights. He didn’t have a clue where that road was leading. He only knew that life would be a heck of a lot different when he got there.
Chapter Thirteen
The happy squeal was distant, a pleasant intrusion into her midafternoon slumber. Peggy sighed, jogged herself awake and indulged in a luxurious stretch. Although half-asleep, she listened with a mother’s heart, acutely aware of the tiniest sound emanating from the nursery. She recognized a high-pitched, playful squeak from T.J., who always woke up cheery and ready to roll. The cranky, hey-things-are-a-little-damp-down-there fuss was pure Virginia, who was less enthusiastic about the awakening process but was considerably more bright-eyed than her brother as the day progressed.
Peggy sat up, massaged her mussed hair and stifled a yawn. It had been three days since she left the hospital, three glorious days of pampered bliss. Travis hadn’t let her lift so much as a finger. He’d prepared all her meals and served them on a bed tray. He’d set the kitchen clock timer for her medications, watching like a persnickety eagle while she swallowed each and every pill. He cared for the twins like a doting papa, brought them to Peggy for daytime meals and staggered from his sofa bed to take care of night feedings himself. He’d even learned how to mix formula.
Pretty heady stuff for a woman who’d never had a man so much as pour her a cup of coffee.
Even now, he was probably on his way to the nursery to check on the twins. She cocked her head, listening for the familiar scuff of boot heels on carpet. All she heard was baby noise.
Frowning, she left the comfort of her bed, shuffled down the hallway and peered into the living room. A neat pile of bedclothes was folded beside the sofa, topped with a pillow.
“Travis?” Silence tightened her stomach. “Travis, are you in the kitchen?”
She hurried into the living room and skimmed a quick glance through the window. Her heart sank like a stone when she saw the empty curb. Travis’s truck was gone.
He was gone.
Sheer terror iced her bones, numbed her shaking hands. Her mind warred with itself, logic arguing that Travis wouldn’t just leave without a word, emotion screaming that of course he would, because he was a man and men did that kind of thing all the time.
But this was Travis. Travis, her very best friend, the man who made her heart flutter with joy simply by entering the room, the man who had become as important to Peggy as her own children. He was different, special. He was…he was…
A diesel engine clattered outside, hummed closer, then abruptly fell silent. Peggy froze, staring at the front door. It burst open.
Travis rushed in with a laundry basket tucked under one arm and a grocery bag in the other. His eyes widened when he saw her. “Oh, Lordy, you’re awake.” He kicked the door shut behind him and tipped sideways to release a fistful of mail on the lamp table. “I’m sorry, honey, I figured I’d be back sooner, but those danged laundromat machines are slower than snail spit.”
It took a moment for the euphoric buoyancy to reach Peggy’s lungs and fill them with air. All she could say was “You’re back.”
Travis dropped the heaping basket on the sofa and frowned toward the hall, where a variety of squeaks and squeals was becoming more insistent. “The twins are awake, too? Dang. Nap time is getting shorter every day.” He shifted the grocery bag and gave Peggy a reproachful stare. “What are you doing out of bed, woman?”
Peggy fingered a fluffy little jumpsuit that smelled like soapy lemons. “You did laundry,” she murmured. “I can’t believe you actually did laundry.”
He seemed taken aback by her blatant amazement. “Shoot, I’ve been washing clothes since I was knee-high to a hunting hound. A body doesn’t need a whole lot of brainpower to shove stuff in a machine and push a few buttons. I, ah—” he scratched his ear, glanced away “—used the gentle cycle for your, umm, delicates and such. They seemed to come out okay.”
“I’m sure they did.” She laid the jumpsuit back on the jumbled pile, sobered by the reminder that Travis had been forced to take care of household chores since childhood. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, sidling toward the kitchen. “You go on back to bed now, y’hear? I’ll bring your lunch in directly.” As he spoke, his gaze dropped to the grocery bag, and he shifted it to his other arm, almost as if he was trying to conceal it.
Or perhaps its contents.
Curiosity just naturally brought out the devil in Peggy. She moseyed closer. “Whatcha got in there, hmm?”
“You know, stuff.” He turned away and hustled into the kitchen.
Peggy followed. “What kind of stuff?” When he turned his back, blocking her view, she tried to peek over his shoulder. “Ooh, more juice and a whole gallon of milk.”
“Nursing mothers need lots of milk,” Travis muttered, shifting his position to conceal the open bag. He retrieved a container of formula mix, several cans of soup and tuna, a loaf of bread and a package of chicken breasts. “High protein, low fat,” he explained, setting the package on the table. “Thought I’d grill some up for supper.”
“How nice of you to no
tice that I’m in need of a low-fat diet.” When his stoic expression crumpled, Peggy took pity on him. “I’m just teasing,” she assured him with a happy laugh. “Grilled chicken sounds wonderful.”
Relief in his eyes turned into glowing guilt as he pushed the bag away, took hold of her elbow and tried to usher her out of the kitchen. “Tell you what, if you don’t want to go back to bed, why don’t you just sit yourself on the sofa and watch TV for a spell. I’ll fix lunch as soon as I get the young’uns up.”
Peggy stubbornly refused to budge. Hoisting up on tiptoes, she tried to peer into the grocery bag. “What else is in there?”
“Nothing much.”
“Cookies? I love cookies.”
“You do?” He shifted an unhappy glance at the bag. “I’ll go get some after lunch, okay?”
“Chocolate chip?”
“Sure, honey, anything you want, just go on into the— Aw, doggone it, Peggy.”
Having snatched the bag, Peggy peeked inside and laughed. “A box of cat food?”
He frowned and whipped it out of her hand. “We ran out.”
“Oh, my goodness, I forgot all about that poor stray. You’ve been feeding him, haven’t you? And after he almost got you arrested, too.”
“Little guy gets hungry, just like any other critter.” Flushing to his earlobes, Travis ripped open the box, went to the back porch and poured a healthy dollop of kibble on the kitty plate. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. A moment later, a blur of orange-striped fur shot across the porch.
Peggy tiptoed over, peered through the screen door and was stunned to observe the cat in question enjoying its supper while Travis stroked the animal’s back.
“I couldn’t find the stuff you’re used to,” Travis told it. “This is supposed to have fish in it. You like fish, don’t you?”
The animal crunched contentedly and pushed its rump up for a scratch.
“How did you do that?” Peggy asked. “I’ve been trying to coax him into petting range for months.”
At the sound of her voice, the cat stiffened and shot a look over its shoulder.
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