It wasn’t perfect—was just flat messy at times—but one thing he knew: he wanted that for his children. Comparing their lives in New York to their lives intertwined with Grant and Audrey’s, CeeCee’s, and all of Landyn’s siblings and their families, had made him ache all over again for what he’d missed growing up. Living these weeks at Landyn’s grandmother’s house, he felt like he’d made up for some of the nurturing he’d been deprived of as a child. He didn’t want his own children to ever know anything other than this warm, loving, crazy family he’d gotten himself mixed up with.
“What’s so funny?” Grant was studying him with an odd expression on his face.
He startled, unaware that he’d let his expression give his thoughts away. “Sorry. Just thinking about—something your mother said.” That was the truth, if not the whole truth.
“I’m sure you two are ready to get out of there and have a place of your own. I know Mother can be a pistol sometimes, but I hope—”
“No, she’s been great. She’s a lot of fun actually. Keeps me and Landyn in stitches most of the time. She’s probably the one who’s ready to have her place to herself again.”
Grant looked looked stunned to hear the sentiment from Chase.
Chase started to ask him what was wrong, but before the words were out of his mouth, it struck him that his “attitude of gratitude,” as CeeCee called it, probably was shocking to Grant.
He felt bad that he’d taken everything Landyn’s family had done for them for granted. For too long. He decided then and there that he would try to make it up to them however he could.
A lump formed in his throat, and he turned away and knelt on the dusty floor, pretending to be intent on picking up a few stray nails he’d missed when he swept earlier. When he gained his composure again, he straightened and turned to Grant. “What would you think about using corrugated tin on that opposite wall too?”
Whether Landyn’s dad caught on to his show of emotion or not, Chase couldn’t tell, but he was grateful when Grant played along.
“I don’t know,” Grant said. “I’d be careful about overdoing a good thing. Maybe live with it on this one wall and see what you think. You could always add more later.”
“Yeah.” Chase rubbed at a paint stain with the toe of his work boot. “Good point. Besides, it won’t cost as much if we do it the way you suggested.”
* * *
“Mom, I can’t get this stupid thing to thread right.” Landyn bent her head, trying to see where she’d misrouted the thread in her mother’s old sewing machine.
Mom came into the dining room where Landyn had fabric and cotton batting spread over every flat surface, including the floor. She leaned over Landyn’s shoulder. “Hmm . . . It looks right. Here, scoot over. I can’t tell unless I sit in the driver’s seat.”
“Yeah, and even though I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, I can’t get close enough to see because of this stupid huge belly.”
Mom placed a palm over the mountain of Landyn’s stomach. “It’s getting close. I can hardly wait!”
“I can hardly wait to have my figure back.” Landyn rolled her eyes. “I’m not so sure about the four a.m. feedings and dirty diapers, and—”
“Times two,” Mom joked. “Everything times two.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” she said wryly.
“Happy to help.”
Landyn slid off the chair and her mother slipped behind the sewing machine. In half a minute, she had the machine re-threaded and purring like a well-fed lioness.
“How about if I trade you? I could do laundry or something . . . whatever you need done, if you’ll finish up the hems in those curtains.”
Mom gave her a look that said, you-little-Tom-Sawyer-you. Landyn laughed and put on her best pouty face. But in that moment she felt overwhelmed with joy and with gratitude that they’d made the decision to leave New York. She had loved working with her mother on some advertising for the inn. It had paid off, too. The inn was booked for most of the summer.
Chase was enjoying being back in Missouri, too. He’d made a trip to New York to meet with Miles. His work was selling reasonably well and “gathering steam” according to the rep. Even better, Chase was beyond passionate about the studio he was creating over their apartment in Langhorne—with plenty of help from her dad. She had to admit the place was shaping up nicely, and she was eager to begin this next chapter, imagining what their small-town life would look like.
“There’s plenty of laundry in the baskets upstairs, and a bedroom to make up.”
Her mother’s voice interrupted the swirl of daydreams. “Okay. Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
Mom gave her a watery smile that hinted she, too, was grateful for where life had carried them all.
Landyn lumbered up the stairs—lumbering seemed to be her only speed these days—and found clean sheets for the guest room. She unfolded the fitted sheet and smoothed it out over the mattress cover, then added the flat sheet, tucking in the corners hospital-style like Mom had taught them all from the time they were old enough to make their own beds. She still got homesick for the house she’d grown up in, but having her own nest to feather in downtown Langhorne had eased the pangs considerably.
And she was beginning to realize how transforming this house had been a necessary thing for her mother. As Mom liked to say, “if you do your job right as a mother, you soon put yourself out of a job.”
Landyn unfolded a pillowcase and reached across the king-size bed for one of the feather pillows. She gasped as something gave way and a contraction—far stronger than the Braxton Hicks ones she’d been feeling regularly—rolled over her. She wasn’t due for another month. This couldn’t be the real thing.
She sat on the edge of the mattress waiting for the contraction to subside. It did and she rose to resume making the bed. But not five minutes later, another one began its crescendo.
“Mom!” Her voice seemed to come from somewhere outside herself. She called again, but she was trembling so hard she needed to sit down. She half-sat, half-rolled onto the clean sheets and waited again for it to pass.
When it did she called again for her mother. This time Mom must have heard, for Landyn heard a rush of footfalls on the stairs, and her mother appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. “Landyn?”
“I—I think I might be in labor.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Mom grabbed the pillow Landyn had been reaching for when this all started and plumped it behind her. “Stay right there. I’ll get your dad.”
“And Chase,” she called weakly. “Don’t forget Chase . . .”
But Mom was already halfway down the stairs.
39
It’s too early . . . too early.” Landyn hadn’t quit trembling since Chase had walked in and found her curled on the bed in her childhood bedroom.
He’d received a frantic call from Audrey, and he and Grant had raced home from the loft, leaving a concrete countertop halfway poured and likely sitting off-level this minute. He shouldn’t care. This was an emergency. Landyn wasn’t due for another month and although the doctor had told them to expect her to go into labor early, this seemed too early.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked wisps of her curly hair away from her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.”
But why couldn’t she seem to quit shaking?
When three contractions came exactly five minutes apart, they decided it was time to get to the hospital. Better to get there and find out it was false labor than to wait too long and not make it to the hospital in time. At least Audrey was here. Chase gave a silent sigh of relief. He’d had more than one nightmare about having to deliver the babies himself.
Grant and Audrey had guests arriving any minute and Audrey was on the phone downstairs trying to get hold of Corinne, hoping she could come and help out with the inn.
He leaned down to look Landyn in the eyes. “Do you think you can get up and walk to the car?”
No
answer.
“Baby?” He repeated the question.
“I don’t know. I’ll try.” But she made no effort to sit up. She seemed unfocused—and terrified.
Audrey appeared in the doorway. “Aren’t you going?” Her harsh question was aimed at Chase.
“Yes. We . . . I’m waiting for her to get up.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost noon. Should you have some lunch before we go, Landyn?”
“No. She probably shouldn’t eat anything until they make sure this isn’t the real thing. Come on, sweet girl.” Audrey gave a huff and pushed herself between him and Landyn. “Get up. You need to get yourself in the car.”
Audrey and Chase manhandled Landyn until she was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He stuffed his wife’s swollen feet into a pair of Toms and put her arm around his shoulder. “Come on, baby, don’t make me carry all three of you.”
That didn’t earn him even a hint of a smile. He’d never seen her so scared.
Which scared him.
Despite Chase’s protests that they could take their car—they’d replaced their cars with another Honda, which ran fine—Grant insisted they take his Highlander. He brought the SUV around to the front of the house and, between the three of them, they got Landyn in it and buckled in.
Audrey shut the passenger side door and turned to grab Chase by his T-shirt. “You drive safe, Chase. But drive fast. This is the real thing. Those babies are coming.”
“And you call us the minute you can,” Grant barked.
“Now, hurry.” Audrey all but pushed him around the vehicle.
He backed around and barreled out of the driveway. Landyn was making strange noises that sounded frighteningly like what they’d called “transition” in the three childbirth classes they’d attended at the hospital in Cape.
At least he knew his way to the hospital, thanks to those classes. It was a twenty-minute drive—he’d clocked it last time they’d driven to class—but he pulled into the emergency room bay exactly sixteen minutes later.
He laid on the horn, then jumped out and ran around to open Landyn’s door.
“I can’t walk, baby. I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can!”
He tried to help her down from the high seat, but she slumped over and slid from the seat like a rag doll. Chase caught her before she hit the pavement.
“Here! Right behind you!”
Chase turned at the shout. Two uniformed men were hurrying toward him with an empty wheelchair. He half dragged Landyn and helped her into the chair.
She was weeping openly now, saying unintelligible words, but he knew she was talking about the babies and worried they were in danger.
“You Spencer?” the younger orderly—or EMT or whatever he was called—asked.
“Yes. How’d you know?”
He nodded toward Landyn. “Her dad called. Said you were on your way.”
“She’s in labor. Twins. But she’s not due till April. April first.”
“April second,” Landyn grunted.
“Seriously? You’re going to quibble about that now?” Chase almost laughed.
But he had to run to keep up with the men wheeling his wife toward the wide doors marked ER.
“You’re going to need to move your car.” The guy directed him to the parking lot around the side of the building.
“Just ask the reception desk when you get inside. They’ll tell you where to find us.”
“Okay.” He dug in his pocket for Grant’s keys, then realized he’d left them in the Highlander. And left it running. Great move, Spencer. Get it together, man.
“I’ll be right there, baby,” he hollered to the two uniformed backs shielding Landyn from view.
No reply. He watched them disappear into the building with his wife. With his family.
He ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in. This was it. The real deal. At least they’d made it to the hospital.
He sucked in a breath of air and realized he was trembling almost as hard as Landyn had been. He hadn’t had time for more than a desperate prayer, thrown up as they rushed to the hospital, but he prayed now. Prayed as earnestly as he’d prayed that wintery night after the ambulance had whisked Landyn away and he’d been left behind, staring at her mangled car.
“Please help her, God. Help us. Help me be what she needs me to be.”
* * *
The room was deathly cold. And deathly silent.
Landyn stared at the table in the corner where they’d taken her baby. She raised up in the bed and strained to see past the knot of doctors and nurses working—frantically, it seemed to her—over the table. “Is the baby okay? Is it—”
Another contraction started, taking Landyn’s breath away. She tried to breathe the way they’d shown her in the childbirth classes, but nothing was working the way they’d said it should. Her body had betrayed her and she felt at its mercy.
Chase stood at the head of the delivery bed, holding her hand, giving her ice chips, whispering encouragement. But all she could think about was the tiny, purple body they’d whisked away from her the minute it had slid from her body. She didn’t even know if she’d delivered a boy or a girl.
The pressure built and she braced herself for the inevitable pain.
Dr. Gregory’s voice came as if he were calling from a tunnel. “Push, Landyn. I need you to push.”
She tried. But she was exhausted. Her body would not obey her brain’s commands.
“Come on, baby. One more time. You can do it.” Chase’s voice sounded falsely bright. And that fear had never left his eyes.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You can do it, Landyn. I know you can.”
She wanted to. She’d tried so hard. For more than ten hours she’d labored. Twice she’d heard them discuss the possibility of a cesarean section. She’d convinced them she could do this. But had it been for nothing?
She glanced over at the table again, praying to hear a baby’s cry. And hearing only the hushed murmurs of the medical team working on her baby.
She and Chase had decided they wanted to be surprised about the babies’ genders. But why hadn’t they told her now? Something must be terribly wrong. She tried to ask Chase, but she was too exhausted even to turn her head and look at him.
His voice stirred her now. “Landyn? Stay with me, baby.”
The contraction finally subsided, but another one began with barely a second’s pause between. She just wanted this to be over. She was so tired. So very tired . . .
And then, a quiet cheer rose from the gathering in the corner. And the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. A whimper at first, building to a squall, and then a furious, glorious scream.
At the foot of the delivery table, Dr. Gregory laughed. “That one is going to give you a run for your money.”
“Is it . . . a baby?”
Chase laughed. “It’s a girl, Landyn. A little girl. Didn’t you hear us?”
Had they told her? How could she have missed that? Why did she feel so light-headed?
“The first baby was born at eleven-fifty-six,” a nurse said. “If you want your twins to share a birthday, time’s a wasting.”
“Yes, it is.” Dr. Gregory sounded concerned. “Landyn, we still have another baby to get out of there. Come on, Mommy. I need you to push.”
She felt another contraction starting and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the agony that had come with every push. This time, the pain didn’t seem quite as strong. She summoned every last ounce of strength and strained until she thought she might pass out. A second later, she felt the baby slide from her body.
Almost instantly, a cry identical to the noisy one still going on in the corner filled her ears.
“That’s more like it,” the doctor said, smiling. “Another healthy girl. But you missed March 1 by three minutes.”
“Two birthday parties every year?” Chase groaned.
“It’s a girl? Two girls?” Landy
n struggled to stay awake.
“That’s right. Another little girl,” Dr. Gregory said.
“Two girls . . . Wow.” Chase looked a little dazed.
Dr. Gregory shook his head. “Brace yourself, Dad. You’re badly outnumbered.”
“Not complaining,” Chase said. He leaned down to kiss Landyn’s forehead. “You did it, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
“I thought we lost our—” The tears came then. Buckets of them.
Chase put his cheek next to hers and cradled the other side of her face in the palm of his warm hand. “No! No, babe. We didn’t lose anything. Everything is fine now.”
“They’re okay then? Both of them? Two girls?” She couldn’t seem to stop crying.
He nodded against her cheek. “Two perfect little girls. March 1 and March 2. You did great.”
“We’ll let you hold them for a few minutes,” a nurse said. “But they’re a little small, so we want to get them right into the warmers.”
“How much do they weigh?” Chase asked.
Dr. Gregory looked to the nurses and aides, waiting for a reply.
“Baby A is five pounds, three ounces. And baby B is not quite five pounds. Looks like . . . four pounds, fourteen ounces. They’re both doing well.”
Chase beamed. “That’s ten pounds of baby you’ve been hauling around.”
She gave a wan smile, feeling light as a feather. But feeling herself fading fast. “I should write a diet book,” she mumbled. “Make a million . . .”
That made Chase laugh.
It was a good sound to fall asleep to. A very good sound.
40
The damp breath of April blew across the creek, and Audrey breathed in the first scents of spring. Standing on the back deck, looking down the hill to the kids’ climbing tree, she could just make out a mist of a million green buds beginning to unfold in its branches. And along the banks, the daffodils were popping open en masse.
“You want to go for a walk?”
She hadn’t heard Grant come out. “Sure. Let me change into my tennis shoes.”
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