The Manning Grooms

by Debbie Macomber

  “I don’t believe you,” she muttered.

  “You’d better, because it wouldn’t take much to convince me to prove it right here and now.”

  “James, honestly.”

  “I am being honest.”

  She smiled, and he couldn’t resist kissing her a second time.

  After they got home, Summer sat outside in the sunshine. She propped her feet on a stool, and her hands rested on her stomach.

  James brought her a glass of iced tea.

  She smiled her appreciation. “You spoil me.”

  “That’s because I enjoy it.” He sat down next to her. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought about packing up and leaving me lately?”

  Summer giggled. “Once or twice, but by the time I finished dragging out my suitcases, I was too tired to go.”

  “You’re teasing.”

  “Of course I’m teasing.”

  “Speaking of suitcases, do you have one ready for the hospital?”

  “Aren’t we being a little premature?”

  “Who knows what Mutt and Jeff are thinking.” James’s hand joined hers. It thrilled him to feel his children move inside her. “And this time you might want to take more than your toothbrush, a book and your bedroom slippers.”

  “That goes to show you the mental state I was in.”

  “Never again,” James said firmly.

  Summer propped her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Never again,” she agreed.

  The day of the September primary, Summer woke feeling sluggish and out of sorts. Getting out of bed was a task of monumental proportions. She felt as if she needed a forklift.

  James was already up and shaved. He’d been watching her carefully all week. To everyone’s surprise, including her doctor’s, Summer hadn’t delivered the twins yet. She’d read that twins were often born early. But not Mutt and Jeff, as they’d been affectionately named by James.

  “Most babies aren’t born on their due dates, so stop looking so worried. This is your day.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her hand to the small of her back.

  James offered her his arm to help her upright. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know yet.” The pain at the base of her spine had kept her awake most of the night. It didn’t seem to go away, no matter how often she changed her position.

  “When are we voting?” she asked.

  “First thing this morning,” James told her.

  “Good.”

  “Why is that good?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think today’s the day?”

  “James, stop! I’m in perfect health.”

  “For someone nine months pregnant with twins, you mean.”

  Summer swore that somehow, God willing, she’d make it through this day. James was so tender and endearing, but she didn’t want him worrying about her during the primary.

  They gathered, together with Walter, at the large Manning home for the election results that evening. Summer was pleased for the opportunity to be with her friends.

  Jason and Charlotte, along with their toddler and infant daughter, Ann Marie, were among the first to arrive. Many of the friends who’d worked so hard on James’s campaign showed up soon after, shortly before the first election results were announced.

  Summer planted herself in a chair in the family room and didn’t move for an hour. The ache in her back had intensified.

  Feeling the need to move about, she made her way into the kitchen. She was standing in front of the sink when it happened. Her eyes widened as she felt a sharp, stabbing pain.

  “James,” she cried in panic, gripping the counter. Water gushed from between her legs and onto the floor. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “Summer?” James stood in the doorway, along with at least ten others, including Elizabeth Manning.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking at James. “But I think it might be time to take me to the hospital.”

  She saw her husband turn and stare longingly at the election results being flashed across the screen. “Now?”

  Fourteen

  “James…I’m sorry.” The pain that had been concentrated in the small of her back had worked its way around her middle. Summer held her stomach and closed her eyes, surprised by the intensity of it.

  “Sorry,” James demanded, “for what?” He moved quickly and placed his arm around her shoulders.

  “You’d better get her to the hospital,” Elizabeth advised.

  “I’ll phone the doctor for you,” Eric added.

  James shouted out the number he’d memorized, and five or six Mannings chanted it until Eric found a pad and pen to write it down.

  Summer felt as if everyone wanted to play a role in the birth of their twins.

  “Toss me the car keys, and I’ll get the car as close to the front door as I can,” Jason Manning shouted.

  James threw him the keys, and Jason hurried out the front door.

  “What about the election returns?” Summer asked, gazing at the television.

  “I’ll get them later,” James said as if it meant nothing.

  “I’ll leave messages on your cell phone,” Charlotte volunteered, “and James can call us when he has an update on Summer and the babies.”

  Summer bit her lip at the approach of another contraction. It hurt, really hurt. “James.” She squeezed his hand, needing him.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. I won’t leave you, not for anything.”

  Jason reappeared, and the small entourage headed for James’s car. It was parked on the grass, close to the front door, the engine running.

  “The doctor said you should go directly to the hospital,” Walter said breathlessly. “He’ll meet you there.”

  “Don’t worry, Summer, this isn’t his first set of twins,” Elizabeth said in a reassuring voice.

  “True, but they’re mine,” James said.

  “James?” Summer looked at her husband and noticed how pale he’d suddenly become. “Are you all right?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment; instead, he helped her inside the car and strapped her in. Before long he was sitting next to her, hands braced on the steering wheel. Summer saw the pulse in his neck pounding.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she whispered. “Just fine.”

  “I’ll feel a whole lot better once we get you to the hospital.”

  “Call us,” Charlotte shouted, standing on the steps, waving.

  Summer waved back, and no fewer than fifteen adults crowded onto the Mannings’ front porch, cheering them on.

  “James, are you okay to drive?” Summer asked when he took off at breakneck speed. He slowed down and stayed within the speed limit, but there was a leashed fear in him that was almost palpable.

  “I’ll be okay once we get you to the hospital.”

  “The birthing process is perfectly natural.”

  “Maybe it is for a woman, but it isn’t as easy for a man.”

  With her hands propped against her abdomen, Summer smiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know if I can bear to see you in pain,” he said, wiping his face as they stopped for a red light.

  “It won’t be too bad.”

  “Hey, you saw the films in our birthing class. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “You!” she said, and giggled.

  James’s fingers curled around her hand. “This isn’t a laughing matter. I’ve never been more frightened in my life. No, only once,” he amended. “The night I came home and found you gone.”

  “The babies and I are going to be just fine,” she said again. “Don’t worry, James, please. This is your night to shine. I’m just sorry Mutt and Jeff chose right now to make their debut.”

  “At the moment, the election is the last thing on my mind. None of it matters.”

  “You’re going to win the primary,” she insisted. Summer knew the competition had been steep, and Ralph Southworth had done what damage he could, eager to prove himself righ
t.

  “We’re almost at the hospital,” James said, sounding relieved.

  “Relax,” she said, and as it turned out, her words were a reminder to herself. The next contraction hit with unexpected severity, and she drew in a deep breath trying to control the pain.

  “Summer!”

  “I’m fine,” she said breathlessly.

  James pulled into the emergency entrance at Virginia Mason Hospital and raced around the front of the car. He opened the door, unsnapped the seat belt and lovingly helped her out.

  Someone rolled a wheelchair toward her, and while Summer sat and answered the questions in Admitting, James parked the car.

  She was on the maternity floor when he rejoined her, looking pale and harried.

  “Stop worrying,” she scolded him.

  James dragged a chair to the side of her bed and slumped into it. “Feel my heart,” he said and placed her hand over his chest.

  “It feels like a machine gun,” Summer said, smiling. She moved her hand to his face and cupped his cheek.

  “I need you so much,” James whispered.

  Summer couldn’t speak due to a strong contraction. James clasped her hand and talked to her in soothing tones, urging her to relax. As the pain ebbed, she kept her eyes closed.

  When she opened them, she found James standing by the hospital bed, studying her. She smiled weakly and he smiled in return.

  Dr. Wise arrived and read her chart, then asked, “How are we doing here?”

  “Great,” Summer assured him.

  “Not so good,” James said contradicting her. “I think Summer needs something for the pain, and frankly I’m not feeling so well myself.”

  “James, I’m fine,” Summer told him yet again.

  “What your husband’s saying is that he needs help to deal with seeing you in pain,” the physician explained.

  “Do something, Doc.”

  Dr. Wise slapped James affectionately on the back. “Why don’t we let Summer be the one to decide if she needs an epidural? She’s a better judge than either one of us.”

  “All right.” But James’s agreement came reluctantly.

  For Summer the hours passed in a blur. Her labor was difficult, and she was sure she could never have endured it if not for James, who stood faithfully at her side. He encouraged her, lifted her spirits, rubbed her back, reassured her of his love.

  News of the primary filtered into the room in messages from Charlotte and various nurses, who caught snippets on the waiting room TV. In the beginning Summer strained to hear each bit of information. But as the evening wore on, she became so consumed by what was happening to her and the babies that she barely heard.

  She lost track of time, but it seemed to her that it was well into the wee hours of the morning when she was taken into the delivery room.

  James briefly left her side and returned a few minutes later, gowned in surgical green. He resembled a prison escapee, and she took one look at him and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  James drew in a deep breath and held Summer’s hand. “It’s almost time.”

  “I know,” she breathed softly. “Ready or not, we’re about to become parents. I have the feeling this is going to be the ride of a lifetime.”

  “It’s been that way for me from the night I met you.”

  “Are you sorry, James?”

  “Sorry?” he repeated. “No way!” Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “My only regret is that I didn’t marry you that first New Year’s.”

  “Oh, James, I do love you.”

  Dr. Wise joined them. “Well, you two, let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” He grinned at James. “Congratulations, Your Honor. You won the primary. This is obviously a night for good news.”

  Two months later Summer woke to the soft, mewling cry of her infant daughter. She climbed silently out of bed and made her way into their daughters’ nursery.

  There she found James sitting upright in the rocker, sound asleep with Kellie in his arms. Kerrie fussed in her crib.

  Lifting the tiny bundle, Summer changed Kerrie’s diaper, then sat in the rocker next to her husband and offered the hungry child her breast. Kerrie nursed eagerly and Summer ran her finger down the side of her baby’s perfect face.

  Her gaze wandered to her husband and she felt a surge of pride and love. The election had been that night, and he’d won the court seat by a wide margin. During the heat of the last two weeks of the campaign, James had let her compose and sing a radio commercial for him. Summer had been proud of her small part in his success, although she didn’t miss life on the stage. Her twin daughters kept her far too busy for regrets.

  James must have felt her scrutiny because he stirred. He looked up and saw Summer with Kerrie.

  “I might as well feed Kellie, too,” she said. Experience had taught her that the minute one was fed and asleep, the other would wake and demand to be nursed. Her twin daughters were identical in more than looks. Even their sleep patterns were the same.

  James stood and expertly changed Kellie’s diaper.

  When Kerrie finished nursing, Summer swapped babies with him. James gently placed his daughter on his shoulder and patted her back until they heard the tiny burp.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” Summer asked.

  “You were sleeping so soundly.”

  “It was quite a night, Your Honor,” she said, looking over at her husband. “I couldn’t be more thrilled for you, James. Your position on the bench is secure.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he told her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s true,” he said with feeling. “You and Kerrie and Kellie. The voters fell in love with the three of you. Those radio commercials you sang were the talk of the town. I’m the envy of every politician I know.”

  “Because I can sing?”

  “No, because you’re my wife.” His eyes were dark, intense. “I’m crazy about you, Summer. I still can’t believe how much you’ve given me.”

  “I love you, too, James.” Summer closed her eyes. It had started almost two years ago in Vegas, when it felt as if her heart was breaking. Now her heart was filled to overflowing. Life couldn’t get any better than it was right then, she decided.

  But Summer was wrong.

  Because the best was yet to come.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5086-8

  THE MANNING GROOMS

  Copyright © 2008 by MIRA Books.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:

  BRIDE ON THE LOOSE

  Copyright © 1992 by Debbie Macomber.

  SAME TIME, NEXT YEAR

  Copyright © 1995 by Debbie Macomber.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

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