The Baby Twins (Babies & Bachelors USA)

by Laura Marie Altom

  In the kitchen for a snack, she made microwave popcorn to go along with a diet root beer.

  Never had three minutes taken so long. Especially since all she could focus on was the wall-mounted phone.

  Should she call him?

  If she did, what would she say? An apology for her part of their argument was probably in order, but what then? What did she expect from him? As much as Stephanie hated to admit it, Lisa was right in that she had no business growing attached—even in a friendly way—to another pilot. Then there were his issues with Lola and his ex-wife. Truly, his leaving had been for the best.

  The phone stared at her.

  Mocked her.

  Called her chicken.

  Usually, she was immune to name-calling—especially when coming from an inanimate object. But this was different. If she’d learned anything from her in-flight meltdown, it was that it was high time she faced her problems rather than hiding from them. She wasn’t supermom or superwoman. If she’d done like her doctor had suggested and taken a light sedative before flying, she never would’ve gotten herself in such a mess. On the flip side, she wouldn’t have met Brady again. A man who, for whatever reason, had gotten under her skin.

  “Fine,” she said, hands on her hips, staring at the phone. “You wanna play hardball, let’s go.”

  Marching into the living room, she found her purse on the table by the front door. After fishing out her wallet, she found Brady’s number on the back of a grocery store receipt right where she’d left it.

  In the kitchen, she gripped the phone’s handset, punching in her only tangible link to the man.

  It rang five times before an answering machine picked up. Hey—you’ve reached Brady. You know what to do.

  At the beep, Stephanie hung up.

  “IT MIGHT BE FUNNY NOW,” Clarissa said, slipping her arm around Lola and giving her a squeeze, “but at the time, I was ready to wring your cute little neck. There were bubbles everywhere.”

  While on one side of his parents’ Seattle family room Brady’s ex droned on about their daughter’s latest escapade involving laundry detergent and the dishwasher, he tried focusing on his mother, Gloria, who was extolling the wonders of Heath, her new personal trainer.

  “He worked me so hard,” she said, fanning her face while she talked, “I thought my arms were going to fall off of my body.”

  “That’s nice,” he said, trying to eavesdrop on Clarissa.

  “It was hardly nice,” she scolded. “More like agony. Agony I had to pay for. Your father’s livid. Charles says I’m trying to be sixteen again, but honestly, is it wrong for me to want to look my best?”

  “Mom?” he asked, envying the way Clarissa and Vince shared the sofa with Lola sandwiched between them. They’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner around three that afternoon, and after the guys had cleaned the kitchen, the whole family was lounging in his parents’ family room, watching football. He was so annoyed he hadn’t even noted who was playing. “Would you mind getting out of here for a minute?”

  “Like where?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “It’s a holiday.”

  “I don’t mean leave the house, but get out of here. Away from—” He cocked his head in the direction of Clarissa and Vince.

  “Come on,” his mother said, pulling him by the arm to her upstairs craft room. It used to be a guest bedroom, but now that he and Vince had moved out, there was more than enough space for his folks to spread out their hobbies.

  Once she sat in her rolling desk chair, and he was on the love seat, she demanded, “Out with it. You’ve had a scowl all day.”

  “Sorry.”

  Sorting a pile of yarn, she said, “Makes no matter to me. More pie and turkey leftovers.”

  “Love you, too.” Grabbing a pincushion, he busied his hands with pulling pins out and then sticking them back in.

  “You know what I mean,” she soothed, patting his knee. “Come on, hon. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Where did he start? Ever since his angry words with Stephanie, he hadn’t been right. Sure, he performed his job with the same faultless attention to detail he always had, but in his off-time, he’d felt as if his life was aimless. Like he had no beginning or end to his days. No purpose other than getting through.

  “Brady…”

  “I’m in trouble, okay?”

  Her expression clouded with worry. “Are you sick? Being laid off?”

  “No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “Nothing like that.” After giving his mom the highlight reel of how Stephanie and her girls had come into his life, he got to the heart of the matter. “So here we were having this idyllic night with her kids, but then it hit me. What was I doing? Playing house with another man’s kids? A dead man’s kids.” Pressing the heels of his hands against closed eyes, he said, “Somehow it came out that Vince was responsible for what happened between Clarissa and I, and—”

  “Stop right there,” she said, putting her newly formed yarn ball on her worktable. “Do you honestly believe it was solely Vince’s fault for what happened to your marriage?”

  “Hell, yeah,” he answered. “You don’t?”

  She took too long to answer.

  “So what did I do besides love my wife and little girl?”

  Lips pressed tight, she began a new yarn ball. “I’m not the right person for this conversation, Brady. You know I love you, but what happened between you, Vince and Clarissa is none of my business.”

  He snorted. “If you’re part of the family, you’re part of the problem.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Increasing her pace on yarn rolling, she noted, “It wasn’t me who worked ungodly hours for years. It wasn’t me who asked your brother to watch after your family while you were gone. Vince was doing you a favor, and what happened—while I don’t condone it—was the natural outcome of a man and a woman raising a child together. Vince didn’t steal your wife, son. You gave her away.”

  “BRADY?” STANDING AT the open front door in her robe, Stephanie had a tough time believing he was really there. It was seven in the morning, the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The sky was gray, threatening sleet, freezing rain or snow. Weather forecasters said it was a toss-up as to what might fall. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Sorry,” he said, brushing past her when she gestured for him to come in from the cold.

  His cab drove off.

  “I know I should’ve called, but I’ve been flying for days, and saw there was an early flight out for Little Rock, and—”

  With Brady inside, out of the cold, Stephanie closed the door and pulled him into a hug. All anger was gone. In its place a quivery sense of relief. “I tried calling, but—”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t even been home.”

  “It’s all right.” The longer he held her, the better she felt. He smelled of the damp outdoors. Of sweet wood smoke from a neighbor’s fire. The leather of his jacket.

  “I feel terrible about how defensive I was with you,” he said, his words mingling with his warm exhalations into her hair. “I couldn’t wait to see you. Explain.”

  Nodding against the wall of his chest, she said, “I called to apologize. I shouldn’t have needled you. What happened between you and Clarissa is none of my business.”

  Releasing her, he tucked flyaway curls behind her ears. “By bringing up the subject, I made it your business.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, helping him remove his coat. “I just want to go back to us being friends.”

  “Me, too,” he said, catching her gaze and holding it longer than usual. He looked hungry for something. But what? “How are the girls?”

  “Snoozing,” she said, covering a yawn. “Finally. They were up most of the night tag-teaming me with wet diapers and hungry wails.” She sat cross-legged on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her.

  “How do you do it?” he asked on his way over. “Clarissa and I used to take turns with Lola and we still always felt like zombies.”


  “You know how it is. You do what you have to.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned his head back, stretching out his legs. “What’d you do over the holiday?”

  “Moped. With Mom off on a singles’ cruise, it just wasn’t the same. She’s the one who makes the bulk of the meal.”

  His hand warming her knee, he said, “Aside from moping, what else did you do?”

  “Lisa and I made spaghetti and watched chick flicks.” Laughing from the disaster of it, she said, “It was like the anti-Turkey Day. Right down to frozen cheesecake for dessert instead of pumpkin pie.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “How about you? Were you with Lola?”

  He nodded.

  “Well?” she prompted. “How was it? Did you two get any quality time?”

  “A little. We went to a dinner and movie. At Dave & Buster’s she beat me at Skee-Ball like twenty times in a row.”

  Laughing, Steph said, “Ouch. That had to wound your male pride.”

  “A wee bit.” He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “But the size of Lola’s grin more than made up for my bashed ego. At least we were talking.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stephanie said.

  “About what?”

  “Everything you’re going through,” she said. “Loving your kid shouldn’t have to be so hard.”

  “It’s not Lola that’s the problem. I played a huge role in the person she’s become.” Growing reflective, he rubbed his whisker-stubbled jaw. “FYI—I took what you said to heart. You know, about me partially to blame for what went down between Vince and Clarissa.”

  “Oh?” She’d wondered if he’d broach the subject.

  “I asked my mom about it. She said I practically invited my brother and wife to have an affair.”

  “How so?” Shifting her position, she leaned closer to him.

  “Working too much. I thought I was doing good by my family, but maybe not.”

  “I don’t buy it,” she said, thinking back to the long times she and Michael had spent apart. “Michael was constantly gone. That didn’t mean I ran right out to cheat on him.”

  “Good point.” Taking a throw pillow from the end of the sofa, he messed with the fringe. “But to hear Mom talk, you’d think I gave them an engraved invitation to play me for a fool.”

  “While you were in Seattle, did you talk with Clarissa about it?”

  “No.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “How come?”

  “What’s the point? When I approached my mom, I was genuinely trying to make sense of it all. You know, what I could’ve done differently. I admit, I should’ve spent more time at home, but that doesn’t excuse her actions.”

  “Of course not.” Her heart ached for him. But what could she do? “I should never have said you didn’t make Clarissa happy.”

  “Even though it was true?” The hoarseness of his tone revealed his pain. “The crazy thing is,” he added with a sad laugh, “in my mind and heart, I really did try making her feel like the most cherished person in my life. That’s why I know the whole happily-ever-after routine isn’t for me. I tried—and failed miserably.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Mmm…” Stephanie said early that afternoon, tilting her face back to drink in the sun. The morning’s gray skies had been short-lived, and with no wind and temperatures in the midsixties, it had turned out to be a gorgeous day. “This is a treat.”

  With Brady in town, she’d skipped church, opting instead for a picnic in nearby Roaring Falls National Forest. The girls giggled and shrieked in the infant swings. Brady pushed Michaela while Stephanie pushed Melanie. The fact that Brady got along so well with her girls made her all the sadder for his declaration of being a failure at love.

  At this time of year, the park was nearly empty aside from an RV and an orange camper van. What few leaves were still in the trees rustled in the warm breeze.

  “This is nice,” Brady said. “Just what I needed.”

  “Glad we could oblige.” She winked before giving Melanie another light push. “How long are you staying?”

  “Just today. I’m on call Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, but then I’m off for two days. I thought I’d take Lola up to the mountains. There was an early snow and it’s about time she learned to ski.”

  “Sounds fun,” she said, oddly disappointed.

  Michaela began to fuss.

  “Is that a diaper cry?” Brady asked. “Or her I’m-tired-of-swinging cry?”

  “Maybe both,” Stephanie said, glad for the distraction.

  Sure enough, her firstborn smelled suspicious, so while Steph changed her, Brady took Melanie from her swing to the old quilt they’d spread on a grassy slope.

  “Hungry?” After dousing herself in hand sanitizer, Stephanie grabbed the paper sack she’d loaded with ham-and-cheese sandwiches, pretzels and day-old sugar cookies she’d brought home from the shop.

  “Always,” he said, breaking into a plastic baggie.

  “Sorry I couldn’t scrounge up anything fancier.”

  He shrugged. “No sweat. I’m a simple guy. Not really the wine and brie type.”

  With the babies contentedly gnawing on teething biscuits, Stephanie served herself. “I’ve never had brie. Is it good?”

  Seesawing his hand, he said, “Kind of bland. You haven’t missed much.”

  “I’ve missed everything.” She hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, but now that they had, she dove in with a confession. “Michael and I had such plans. After his tour in Iraq, he was going to retire from the military and focus on his work as a commercial pilot. We talked about using his flight privileges to travel the world.” With the sleeves of her red sweatshirt, she daubed her stinging eyes.

  “Not to sound like an insensitive jerk,” he said in a soft, kind tone, “but why can’t you still experience your life to the fullest? You’re too young to give up.”

  “I’ve hardly given up,” she snapped, fighting a fresh swell of tears. “Take a look at my reality. In the girls, I’ve got a 24/7 job. My hours at the shop aren’t much better. I steal maybe an hour or two each night for my self, and that’s usually spent doing laundry.”

  Drawing her into a hug, the sun and the strength of his arms drenching her in hope, she almost dared believe life wouldn’t always be so hard.

  “You’ve got to learn to ask for help, Steph.”

  Shaking her head, she admitted, “I won’t be a burden to anyone else.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that all of your friends—Lisa and Gabby and Olivia—love you? Do you honestly think they consider you a nuisance?”

  “I would,” she said with a sniffle.

  “Bull.” Even though he drew back, he still kept hold of her hand. “You’re one of the most kindhearted souls I’ve ever met. What this all comes down to is letting yourself go—not like never washing your hair again, but in releasing your superhuman need for control.”

  “Control?” That bit of lunacy nearly had her choking on a bite of sandwich. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have control of much of anything.” Least of all, my feelings for you.

  “DAD, DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS?” Lola complained when Brady headed his Jeep toward the playground at the park near her home. He’d had to scrap their ski trip because of a flu making its way through TransGlobal’s pilots. He hadn’t been sick, but he was plenty weary of covering for puking crews. “I’m almost nine. Can’t we just go to the mall?”

  “Your birthday’s not until July. And since when do you shop?” he asked, pulling into an empty parking space in front of the swings.

  “My friend Becky says only nerds wear clothes not from the mall. I don’t want to be a nerd, so she says I have to go to Abercrombie.”

  “Since this is the same friend who got you grounded because of her foolproof plan to reunite your mother and me, you might want to ignore her.” Turning off the engine, he angled to face his scowling child.

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “And y
ou obviously haven’t gotten the news that you can’t do something just because someone else tells you to. What does your own head say?”

  She shrugged.

  Hand to his forehead, he sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then how come you’re so mad? All I did was ask if we could go to the mall.” Her brown eyes sucked him in. He wanted to remain calm and rational, but whenever he was around her, something came up to remind him of just how little he knew his own daughter.

  “I’m not mad,” he said, thumping the heel of his hand against the wheel. “I’m frustrated. Lola, I miss you. I moved back to Seattle, but we still don’t seem to connect. Not the way we used to.”

  “I miss you, too, Dad, but how are we supposed to be friends when you’re flying all the time and when you’re not doing that, Mom said Stephanie’s your floozy girlfriend and you’re shacking up with her.”

  Hearing that kind of language coming from his innocent child filled him with fury. What the hell was Clarissa thinking? “What does floozy mean?” she asked, pulling down the sun visor presumably to check out her newly straightened hair. “I asked, but she said I was too young to know. But then I got to wondering, if she thinks I’m still a baby, then why was she even saying stuff like that around me?”

  “I don’t have a clue, but once we get back from the mall, we’re going to find out.”

  Three hours, six shopping bags and two Chick-fil-A combo meals later, Brady pulled the car up to the curb of what used to be his home. Now, it was just a house. The mere sight of the timber and river stone A-frame he’d been so proud of turned his stomach. The views of Puget Sound he’d once found mesmerizing failed to stir him.

  “Dad?” Lola asked, taking his hand as they approached the front door. Her uncharacteristic affectionate touch warmed him more than the rare Seattle sun.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Are you and Mom going to fight? Because if you are, I’m going to my tree house.”

  A muscle ticking in his jaw, he gave Lola’s hand a firm squeeze before saying, “I don’t want to fight, but just in case, you might want to call over that neighbor girl you like. What’s her name? Lizzie? Loretta?”