Her Secret Twins

by Janette Foreman

  She stared at him for a few second before relaxing her shoulders and looking out the window. “Well, thank you.”

  The one street lamp in town popped on, and Grant turned the corner just before Rachel’s house. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just thought I would have gotten more pushback from you, that’s all.” He eyed her with a spark that had her fighting back a smile.

  “I figured you needed a win every now and then.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  They parked outside Rachel’s house and dropped off the kids before being on their way to Maxwell Thornton’s party. He was holding it at his house in their backyard, and Grant had said it was “a small shindig,” but when they arrived and had to park down the street behind a whole bunch of other vehicles, Kallie was fairly certain it was anything but.

  They strolled down the sidewalk past a couple of houses until they reached the right one—a modest house like many others in Bitter Creek, with whitewashed siding and cute black shutters. Rosebushes in the flower beds and an apple tree near the front walk.

  In the backyard, string lights swooped from pole to pole in a whimsical web of stars, and mellow acoustic music played over a speaker somewhere. A couple of long folding tables had been set up along one side of the yard, draped in white tablecloth with scores of desserts and finger-food appetizers. A firepit in the yard’s center boasted short, upturned logs for chairs and what looked like a decorated umbrella stand full of thin sticks. The sign hanging from the stand said “For S’mores.”

  Even the lawn games and a photo booth set up in another corner of the yard were charming.

  Kallie couldn’t help but feel a hint of excitement. “Okay. This is going to be cool.”

  “I guess, if you like this sort of thing.”

  She sent him a knowing smile. Grant wasn’t much for charm and sentiment. All that romantic stuff—it just wasn’t his thing. But that wouldn’t stop her from enjoying herself tonight.

  Right off the bat, she dragged him to the photo booth. She stuck a funny hat on his head and she wore a feather boa and sunglasses while the camera snapped away. Every time Grant shot her an annoyed look, she couldn’t help but grin in response. Which generally made him crack a smile, too.

  Eventually, after chatting with some old friends, meeting a few new ones and sampling a little bit of everything from the refreshment table, Kallie and Grant wound up at the firepit. A few others had gathered there as well, the night air tinged with a slight chill on the breeze.

  Kallie turned the thoughts in her mind to the same speed as her marshmallow over the flames. “If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

  Grant shrugged. “I guess maybe it’d be cool to see the ocean. But I’ve really enjoyed traveling the country with my clinics, and I’m not sure there’s anywhere else I want to see.” He pulled his marshmallow from the fire, blackened the way he liked it. “What about you?”

  “When I was in eighth grade, I did a genealogy project and learned my family came through Ellis Island. There’s a book they have on display with everyone’s names. Since then, I thought it would be really cool to go.” She pulled her marshmallow out of the flames and lightly squeezed it. Nope, still firm. Gingerly, she placed it back near the fire and began to rotate her stick. “Dad couldn’t go with me, with the farm and dog training keeping him so busy.”

  Grant sat so close, his arm brushed against hers as he regarded her. “And your mom?”

  “She said she’d take me but it never happened.” She shrugged it off, then plucked her marshmallow from the fire. If it wasn’t done by now, she’d just eat it the way it was.

  “At least both your parents were interested in doing fun things with you,” Grant said. “My mom was, but she worked too much. Dad was always available but never had the time, if that makes sense.” He stared into the fire as it crackled and popped embers into the dark sky. “There was one time I remember where he actually acted interested in hanging out with us. Together, we walked around the neighborhood doing a paper route of sorts. We didn’t know anything at the time. All we knew was that we got to spend time with Dad like other kids got to do with theirs.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven. So Jill was nine,” he said. “Anyway, sometimes the people we gave papers to would give my dad money. Sometimes it was dark bottles, though we had no idea what they were.”

  Kallie arched her brows. “They paid him in alcohol?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Then he disappeared into some guy’s house for—well, I don’t know for how long, but it was a good, long while. I still don’t know what they were doing in there, but here we were, two little kids, stuck in the front yard of some run-down house in a trashy neighborhood.” Grant shook his head. “We could’ve been hurt. Or worse. My dad was careless. He only thought about himself.”

  “And you were only seven?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m sorry he did that to you, Grant. That’s crazy.” Her heart hurt for kids that had to live through childhoods like that. She’d been missing her mom, certainly, but neither of her parents had ever put her in danger. “I didn’t know about all that.”

  Grant scrunched his nose. “I don’t talk about it much.” As if to change the subject, he grabbed another marshmallow. “How about a contest? Let’s see who can roast the most perfect marshmallow.”

  “According to whose standards?”

  “Yours. No black marks, no charring, no smoke damage. Just a rich, plump, golden brown.” Grant tossed a marshmallow to Kallie, then stuck his own on his stick. “Ready? And go!”

  * * *

  Monday night, moonlight cast leafy shadows across Kallie’s house as Grant stood beneath the old tree in the front yard. Light glowed through the kitchen window’s curtain, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. After working all day on random farm chores and beginning to fix up the cottage, he was looking forward to a big home-cooked meal tonight.

  Back in Iowa, home cooked meant macaroni and cheese out of a box. But unlike him, Kallie knew how to cook. That, and seeing Ainsley and Peter, had kept his steps incredibly light throughout the day.

  As did the memory of spending last night around the fire with Kallie, just like old times. He hadn’t sat around a campfire probably since they’d dated, and the sound of crackling wood and the spray of ember fireflies had taken him back there in a blink.

  Which was obviously messing with his mind—making him want to do ridiculous things like put on aftershave and a nicer shirt after showering before coming over here. Must have inhaled too much wood smoke.

  Smoothing back his unruly hair, Grant strode up the front walk. The phone in his back pocket chimed—must’ve picked up Kallie’s Wi-Fi—so he paused to check the new email message. It was a reply from the life insurance company he’d written to last week. Looked like in order to qualify, he needed to get on the phone for a lengthy interview about his life history. Something that had to be done during normal business hours. Maybe he could do it tomorrow, if Kallie agreed to let him watch the kids for the day while she worked the farm.

  Grant slid his phone back in his pocket and opened the screen door.

  Ruby let out a sharp bark from right inside, no doubt guarding the place from intruders. Grant quickly slid to his knees and buried his fingers in her copper ears and in the ticking along her neck and shoulders.

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “It’s just me.”

  A baby’s soft whimper carried in from the living room, and suddenly Grant realized no one was in the kitchen with him. No supper smells lingered in the air, either. He stood, frowning. Was everything okay? Had Kallie forgotten about their plan for tonight?

  He made his way into the living room and found her—sunk into the overstuffed recliner, a sleeping baby nestled in each arm.

  She looked
up, eyes tired, offering a half smile. “They’ve been cranky all afternoon and finally fell asleep. I didn’t have the heart to move.”

  Seeing her like this, with the twins cuddling against her and breathing deeply, made something thicken in his chest. Brought his emotions a little closer to the surface than he wanted them to be.

  He had to snap out of it. Blinking, he broke the stare. “Did I hear one of them crying just now?”

  “Ainsley startled at Ruby’s bark, but it didn’t fully wake her...as you can see.” Laughing softly, she lowered her gaze to her daughter, whose tiny thumb had taken refuge in her mouth.

  Kallie’s glow of admiration was nearly palpable, overcoming Grant to the point that he couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something truly special about being a parent, and he longed to really know what it felt like. Lifting one corner of his mouth, he knelt beside the recliner and swept his gaze over each child, in awe of the peace resting across their cherub faces.

  “They’re something else, aren’t they?” He nearly reached out to touch Peter’s shoulder, clothed in green and grey stripes, but stopped himself for fear of waking him.

  Kallie released a sigh. “They are.”

  He could hear her fatigue even as she tried to hide it. He’d never taken care of kids this little, especially not two of them, so he couldn’t imagine how much work they were. Though anything done on your own for too long could feel exhausting.

  He stood. “Are you hungry? Let me make something for you.”

  “Oh, really, Grant. You don’t need to.”

  “It’s no problem.” He stood before she could stop him. “I’ll look in the fridge and see what’s there.”

  “You won’t find much,” he heard her mumble, probably more to herself than to him.

  She was right. When Grant opened the fridge and inspected its contents, he found the farm usuals—butter, eggs, milk, but nothing substantial. There was always an omelet, he supposed.

  He opened the freezer. Bingo. Frozen pizza. Just his style.

  After pulling out the flat box, he stuck his head back into the living room. “How does pepperoni and sausage pizza sound?”

  Kallie’s eyes lit. “Perfect, actually.”

  Grant set the oven temperature and readied the pizza to bake. As he did, he heard one of the kids fuss a little, though not for long. Apparently Kallie was pretty good at soothing them. Which baby had cried, Grant had no idea. But one day, he would know who was who just by their sound.

  Growing up, there’d been times he’d gone a week without his dad saying a word to him. If Grant had left town for a few nights, he suspected the man hadn’t even known he’d been gone. While his dad lay on the couch, Mom had worked two jobs and still made it to many of Grant’s school activities. His father’s absence had stung for a while, but eventually Grant had numbed himself to the pain. However, having kids of his own brought a lot of that pain back to the surface—and made him realize he hadn’t actually coped with any of those emotions.

  He never wanted to put his kids through something like that—the possibility of messing up really made him nervous.

  Leaving the oven to preheat, he returned to the living room. Kallie looked up from the sleeping babies.

  “Have you thought any more about me watching the kids tomorrow?” he asked. “I’d like to.”

  She nodded, lips pressed together as if she’d given it a lot of thought. “I think that’s a good idea. It’ll give them a chance to get to know you...and for you to know them.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too. Maybe tonight after they go to sleep, you can show me what’s what around here.”

  “Deal.”

  In his opinion, she looked a little uncertain about the whole thing, but he didn’t need her to be fully convinced. Just needed her to let go of enough control to give him a chance.

  The oven chimed, so he went back into the kitchen to put in the pizza.

  But before he could put the pizza in, he heard one of the babies start to fuss. The baby’s cries grew louder. He hastened back into the living room.

  It was Peter.

  The boy’s fussing had grown into restless fidgets. Kallie shifted to accommodate him, but if he rolled too much more, he’d wake Ainsley.

  “Can I take him?” Grant stepped forward.

  “Please.”

  He gently scooped up his son and headed for the kitchen. “You hungry, bud?” In the doorway, he looked back at Kallie, who’d settled back in order to keep Ainsley sleeping. “What can I feed him?”

  “You can start with a bottle.”

  A bottle. Yes. He could do that. It wasn’t hard, right?

  Entering the kitchen, he looked around. Now, if he were a bottle, where would he be? He could ask Kallie. Or he could look for it himself and save her the headache of explaining everything. Scanning the counter proved fruitless, so he zeroed in on the cabinets.

  Peter, sucking a pacifier, quietly watched what Grant did through sleep-puffed eyes. Grant crouched to check inside a bottom cabinet but had to stop to balance Peter, who apparently hadn’t figured out how to hold on yet or grip his legs around Grant’s torso. Something he figured every baby knew how to do instinctively. Guess it was learned.

  Finally, he located the bottles in an upper cabinet, and thankfully, a tub of formula sat beside them. He pulled each out and inspected the back of the container for directions. Mix with water. Okay, not so hard. He took the lid off his chosen bottle and raised his brows at its inner workings. Weren’t bottles supposed to be a lid and a cup it screwed onto? What was all this extra complex stuff?

  The pizza. He’d forgotten to put it in. Mindful of Peter, he held tightly to his son while he opened the oven door and slid the pizza pan inside. After setting the timer, he returned to the bottle.

  He filled it as directed, and as he shook it, Peter whimpered and reached for it. “Smart kid,” he murmured with a smile. “You recognize this, don’t you?”

  Shaking it in his free hand, he headed back into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. As gently as he could, he laid Peter back against the crook of his arm and put the bottle in his mouth.

  Peter grappled for the bottle, pushing his tiny fingers through Grant’s to get a grip.

  “He can hold it by himself,” Kallie said softly. “In fact, he’d prefer to.”

  Grant moved out of Peter’s way, and Peter went to town on that bottle. One-handed. “Well, I’ll be. What a rock star.”

  Just then, Ainsley rolled and stretched, opening her eyes. Her hair was everywhere—curls that couldn’t be tamed. Kallie stood and took her into the kitchen, probably to get her a bottle, too.

  When the buzzer sounded again. Grant made eye contact with Peter over the bottle. “Well, that was fast.”

  He beelined to the kitchen to find Kallie turning off the oven.

  “Nope, let me get it.” Grant beat her to a drawer and pulled out a pot holder.

  “No, it’s fine, I—”

  “I told you I’d make you supper,” Grant reminded, opening the oven door, “and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  He set Peter in his high chair so he could use both hands to steady the steaming pizza and shut the oven door. Quickly, he sliced it and took down a couple of plates.

  He glanced at Kallie, who stood there watching him as if she was shocked to see him preparing food. “Go sit,” he told her. “Peter and I are right behind you.”

  Without saying anything, she retreated.

  When he joined her, she had settled back into her recliner with a bottle for Ainsley. He handed her a plate and sat with his, allowing Peter to lay with his bottle across Grant’s lap.

  Kallie took a bite and nodded. “Yep. Hits the spot. Thanks for making this.”

  “No problem.”

  “It’s probably the best pizza I’v
e ever had—because someone else made it.”

  Grant chuckled before eating another bite. “Well, I’ve learned a thing or two about preparing food since I’ve been on my own. Literally only a thing or two, but it’s more than I knew before I left home.”

  Kallie laughed. And when she did, it lifted a weight off his chest he hadn’t even known was there. It was like they were really at a truce and that it was actually possible to make this thing work.

  But his thoughts were interrupted when Peter threw his empty bottle and cried out in what appeared to be frustration.

  “Your milk all gone, bud?” Grant stooped to retrieve the bottle. “Are you still hungry?” He glanced at Kallie in question.

  “There’s baby food in the freezer.” She started to move, but Grant stood first.

  “I’ll get it. Stay and eat.” She already served the kids every day with unswerving devotion. He could earn his own keep around here.

  She shot him a grateful look and sat back. “They’re frozen in the shape of ice cubes and separated by food type in freezer bags. Pick a few cubes of any flavor you’d like and put them in a small pot on the stove until they melt.”

  Okay, easy. He moved into the kitchen and did that very thing, choosing cubes of butternut squash and heating them on the stove. Peter watched with complete interest from Grant’s arm.

  “Grant?” Kallie’s voice drifted in.

  “Yeah?”

  “Might as well put on a few more cubes for Ainsley, too.”

  “Consider it done.” He returned to the freezer to grab more. “Genius idea, these frozen cubes of baby food,” he called out to her.

  “You can thank the internet.”

  “Easy to store and all organized. With labels and dates, too. You sure have things under control around here.” It was impressive to say the least—internet or not.

  Grant fought against the feelings of doubt, stirring the cubes as they melted into a soupy consistency. She’d done completely fine without him this whole time. What could he possibly add to this family that she hadn’t already provided? Besides his 401k and life insurance. And willing his half of the estate to her and the kids so it would always stay in the family.