The Mountain Man's Secret Twins

by Alexa Ross

  But standing there, Kenzie felt her first contraction. She cried out, placing her hand against her massive belly. Bryce immediately dropped his shovel and ran to her, his blue eyes wide. “Is it happening?” he asked her, panicked.

  “I think so,” Kenzie said. She leaned against the cabin, waiting for the contraction to stop. “It hurts. They said it would hurt, but I didn’t know it would be this bad…” Her face was pale.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Bryce said, although he didn’t sound convinced. He swiped his hand over his hat, ridding it of the thick snowflakes. “Why don’t we grab the bag and try to make it down the mountain, huh? If I go slow, I think the tires can make it.”

  “Are you sure?” Kenzie asked, imagining cartoon car crashes, the truck barreling off the steep road.

  “Of course,” Bryce said. He grabbed the bag from inside the cabin, not bothering to lock the door behind him. “When we get back, we’ll have two safe babies in our arms. Just focus on that. And on your breathing.”

  Bryce helped Kenzie to the truck, unable to carry her any longer. Kenzie shifted up into the passenger seat, watching as Bryce cleared the snow from the windshield. He leaned toward her as he got in, kissing her quickly. “Let’s do this.”

  But the truck didn’t make it far. It spun its wheels quickly before bounding down the mountain, losing traction. Bryce stabbed his foot on the brake, making the back end of the truck lurch forward. The snow was still coming quickly, the windshield wipers unable to keep up. Kenzie didn’t scream, but she felt like it. The truck was sideways on the road, and the hospital was over a 30-minute drive away.

  “What are we going to do?” she cried, wrapping her arms tightly around her babies. “We should have stayed in the city this week. We’re not going to make it.”

  Kenzie’s fear made her think terrible thoughts, reminding her of all the things that could possibly go wrong during a birth—especially a botched home birth.

  Bryce didn’t speak for a moment. He needed time to think. He pressed his lips together, gripping the steering wheel. After what seemed like nearly forever, he burst from the driver’s seat, bounded through the snow, and got Kenzie from the passenger seat. “We’re going back to the house. I know someone who can come help.”

  Kenzie allowed Bryce to help her back to the cabin. She lifted her exhausted legs high, her knees cresting over the snow, having to stop only once to breathe through her contractions. She reached the house after what seemed like a small eternity and collapsed on the couch, still in her massive coat.

  “What’s your plan, then?” she asked Bryce, her weary eyes turning toward him.

  “The widow I used to work for,” he said, pacing. “Laurie Smith. She was also a midwife for a long time. She helped give birth to many of the people who still live in the town at the base of the mountain.”

  “You think you can get to her?” Kenzie asked weakly.

  “She lives only a mile down the mountain. I’ll walk down and grab her, bring her back up with me. I promise, we won’t be any more than 40 minutes. Do you trust me?” He clung to her tiny shoulders, gazing into her eyes with those big, blue irises. Kenzie couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else more.

  “Go now,” she whispered. “Another contraction’s coming on, and I want to practice my scream.”

  Bryce kissed her nose and fled the cabin, shoving his hat back on his head. He bounded past the window and into the trees, the very portrait of a mountain man. And as he fled, Kenzie’s contraction intensified, alerting her that the babies were on their way; they were coming soon.

  After the contraction passed, Kenzie tried to distract herself from her fears. She rose from the couch and placed another log on the fire, grateful for the licking flames. Bryce had been gone only 25 minutes at that point. Time was moving slowly.

  When Kenzie had imagined the birth, she’d imagined white-coated doctors, nurses telling her to push, and then she and Bryce kissing beneath the fluorescent lights of the hospital, holding their babies in their arms. Now, she didn’t know what to imagine. Pain, certainly. Suffering, absolutely. But at least Bryce would be there to hold her hand.

  After nearly an hour—something Kenzie would nag Bryce about, teasingly, for years to come—Laurie Smith and Bryce appeared in the doorway. Kenzie was sweating, wearing only a thin nightgown, her shoulders slumped in fear and pain. Her eyes were wild, like an animal’s. “Bryce,” she whimpered. “What took so long?”

  Bryce bounded toward her, placing his hand behind her neck and dabbing at the sweat. “It’s okay now. Laurie knows just what to do. She told me on the way here she’s delivered almost 40 babies, all of them healthy.”

  Kenzie eyed Laurie tentatively, noting she was nearly 90 years old and had probably struggled through the snow. The woman was bone thin, with a crooked nose and flashing eagle eyes. She unwrapped her scarf and laid it on the dining chair, moving with her bag toward the kitchen sink.

  “She’s going to wash up her equipment and then prepare you for delivery,” Bryce explained. “Remember, she’s done this a million times.”

  “Only forty,” Kenzie corrected, looking lost. Another contraction barreled through her, and she clung to Bryce’s hand, making his fingers striped with red and yellow.

  Mrs. Smith approached her then, wearing a long sweater dress she’d obviously knitted herself. She still wore her boots. Her face was stern, but kind and sure. “Kenzie, I need you to come to the floor. We’re going to create a little area for you, near the fire, so you can stay warm and comfortable.” Her words were succinct, without any emotion.

  Mrs. Smith and Bryce set several pillows down, along with newspapers, and then helped Kenzie to the new setup. Kenzie felt that the babies were already really low, pushing toward the outside world, ready to break out.

  “I think it’s soon,” Kenzie said, situating herself on the pillows. She spread her legs, allowing Laurie Smith to check her progress.

  The woman nodded curtly, looking at Bryce with sharp eyes. “It’s good you came when you did. This is going to be a fast delivery.”

  Outside, the wind began to howl, the snow barreling down viciously and coating their cars with another half-foot. But Kenzie’s mind was far away, focused only on the pain of being alive, and of bringing living beings into the world.

  “You’re doing so wonderfully, baby,” Bryce whispered, clinging to Kenzie’s hand and supporting her head. “Just keep breathing, like Laurie says. Just keep going.”

  Laurie Smith was quick in her movements, rolling up her sleeves and eyeing Kenzie clinically. “All right, Kenzie. On the count of three, I’m going to ask you to push.”

  “Okay,” Kenzie said, knowing this was it.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Kenzie pushed as hard as she could, closing her eyes and allowing small tears to run down her cheeks. She squeezed Bryce’s hand, sensing she was almost finished. In a flurry of activity, she heard the first cry of one of her children, who had dropped into Laurie Smith’s outstretched hands. The woman lifted the baby up to Bryce, who held on to it, gazing down at the tiny arms and legs. “It’s a boy, Kenzie,” he whispered.

  Bryce began to wash their new baby, with Kenzie focusing on delivering the second twin. Kenzie watched through bleary eyes as the smooth, gleaming baby skin was revealed. Bryce wrapped the boy in blankets and placed him in a small bassinet, where he cried out for the second time.

  “That’s a beautiful sound,” Kenzie whispered, feeling exhausted. But she pushed a final time, delivering her second child into the world.

  The baby lay, splayed, in Laurie Smith’s arms before hiccupping and beginning to squeal. Laurie handed the baby to Bryce once more, who cleaned her while Laurie finished the delivery of the placenta and helped clean Kenzie up. Kenzie fell asleep almost immediately, her last image that of her two babies lying together, two tiny forms in their bassinet.

  She awoke nearly three hours later to find her babies still sleeping and Laurie and Bryce sitting at the tabl
e, both drinking whiskey. Kenzie tried to rise up on her elbows but felt too exhausted. She smiled up at them and watched as Bryce rushed to her side. He placed his hand on her cheek, kissing her lips. “Kenzie, you were remarkable. Really. Laurie says it was one of the best and easiest births she’s ever had.”

  “Ha. I’m just glad it’s over,” Kenzie whispered weakly, turning toward her babies. “I can’t wait to hold them.”

  “Laurie says we can when they wake up,” Bryce said. “I’m going to set you up in the bedroom and let Laurie sleep out here, in the living room. The snow’s still falling out there. She’ll stay here till morning.”

  “Okay,” Kenzie whispered. Bryce lifted her from the pillows and carried her into the bedroom, helping her change into a fresh nightgown. Afterward, he wheeled the babies into the bedroom, unable to take his eyes from them. “They’re glowing,” he said.

  Kenzie watched as one of them, the girl, began to quiver and then cry, her eyes opening. Her tiny hands waved through the air, searching for comfort. “Bring her to me,” she whispered.

  Bryce lifted the baby into the air and laid her in her mother’s arms, gazing down at them. Kenzie placed her finger gently against her baby’s nose, immediately calming her. But without his sister by his side, her brother began to squeal as well, causing Bryce to lift him into his arms. Bryce held the baby close, his large hand wrapped around his dark head.

  “They have blue eyes. Did you notice?” he asked.

  “And my dark hair,” Kenzie whispered, remembering her dream about the babies playing by the fire.

  “Do you think we should name them? Are we ready?” Bryce asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.

  Kenzie thought for a few moments, watching Bryce. He looked far happier than she’d ever seen, the weight of his past off his shoulders completely.

  “I think we should give them names that mean something to both of us,” Kenzie said.

  Bryce waited, thinking. “We had all those names picked out already,” he said, counting them out. “There was Claire and Connor. Max and Charlotte. Matthew and Olivia.”

  “And I do like all of those names, sure,” Kenzie said, interrupting, “but I think the babies deserve something more.”

  “Like what?” Bryce asked.

  “Why not name them after your parents? Carter and Molly.”

  Bryce didn’t speak for a moment. He looked down at his now-sleeping son, trying to assign the name of his father to his firstborn. “You know, I didn’t say their names for years,” he whispered.

  “I assumed that,” Kenzie said.

  “While they were alive, I probably couldn’t say much to them. I was probably never able to tell them I loved them, or understand that they were anything more than the people who fed me and made me go to sleep. I suppose it’ll be like that for these guys for a while, won’t it? We’ll be the only other beings they know.”

  “I think that’s the way it goes,” Kenzie said, laughing slightly. She saw a smile pass over Bryce’s face as he made peace with the names.

  “Carter and Molly,” Bryce said again, with more certainty. “I’m liking it more and more.”

  Baby Molly responded then with a bright cry. Kenzie fed her instinctively, feeling useful, certain, as if her hormones were guiding the way. She fed baby Carter afterward, and then Bryce put them both back in their bassinets. He checked on Laurie Smith, who he said was now conked out on the couch, her thin arms crossed over her chest like a mummy.

  Bryce lay next to Kenzie, holding her tightly against him as they slept. They drifted off together, safe inside the thick walls of their cabin. Their babies slumbered for several hours, until the crack of dawn, when their cries woke the adults in the house.

  As Kenzie fed the babies, comforting them, trying to juggle them, Bryce checked the roads, finding them to be drivable. He drove Laurie back down to her house, thanking her with another bottle of whiskey, and then stopped at the town store to buy Kenzie the supplies she needed, along with enough food for the next week. He arrived back to find both babies sleeping in their mother’s arms and Kenzie’s eyes on the horizon out the window.

  “I have a feeling a lot of the next few months are going to involve me sitting in this bed, waiting for you to come back,” she said, laughing quietly, her face pale. “This is only the first day of their lives, and it already feels like the last day of mine.”

  “Stay optimistic. Let me make you some breakfast,” Bryce said, laughing. He rustled around the kitchen, tossing bacon into a skillet and cracking eggshells with a fluid motion. Kenzie remembered her first morning at the cabin, when she’d listened to him making her breakfast. She’d been scared of him, of the love she knew could grow between them—and, of course, of losing him. She’d second-guessed everything. But the truth was, when two people fit together, you couldn’t tear them apart. Not for long.

  Bryce helped her place the babies back in their bassinets gingerly, his large hands gentle with their tiny forms. He helped Kenzie out to the kitchen, where she sat up for the first time, stabbing a fork into the yolk of her egg and watching as the bright yellow oozed out.

  Bryce sat across from her and they ate in silence, enjoying the peace after such a dramatic day. Kenzie smiled at him from across the table, imagining her future with this man. Bryce’s eyes, bright blue and gleaming, met hers. Kenzie shivered in anticipation.

  “Do you think they’ll be movie stars?” she asked quietly, joking.

  “Why not scientists?” Bryce said, challenging her.

  “Or architects. I’m sure Carter will learn to chop wood like his daddy. That’s just a few steps away from building a mansion. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “If you want to stretch the truth, sure,” Bryce said, laughing. “What about Molly? Think she’ll join the family real estate business? Learn how to lie like her momma?”

  “Ha,” Kenzie said. “I definitely don’t want that.”

  “Maybe they’ll just want to stay with us, up in the mountains,” Bryce offered. “Build cabins close by. Raise their kids up here.”

  The thought of that made Kenzie’s heart grow warm. “We could rule the mountain,” she joked. “Just you and me and our dynasty.”

  “Precisely,” Bryce said. “I was thinking we should build onto the cabin a bit this spring. We can add two bedrooms to the side, with a hallway beside the kitchen. That way the kids can have their own rooms.”

  “You want to take on that kind of project with two newborns?” Kenzie asked, laughing.

  Bryce shrugged. “It’ll be painful for a while, sure.”

  “Hammers and babies, as far as I can tell, don’t go together,” Kenzie said.

  “But when they’re older, we’ll want nothing but a bit more privacy. Because I’m still going to be into you. In every way.” He winked at her. “Maybe even make a few more kids?”

  “Let’s not talk about that now,” Kenzie said, laughing. “I’m too exhausted. And I’m too in love with all three of you. I don’t have space in my heart for anyone else.”

  “Agreed,” Bryce whispered, leaning toward her and kissing her across the table. Kenzie felt overwhelmed with emotion, hardly able to believe the whirlwind of the last nine months. Now, safely tucked away in the mountains, she had a family, a man she could rely on, and a gorgeous view, ever at her disposal. How could she have been content with anything else?

  EPILOGUE

  Kenzie and Bryce stood on the porch with the early June light pouring over them. Both held a seven-month-old baby, bobbing them to keep them quiet and happy, and watched as Kenzie’s mother drove down the driveway and out of sight.

  As their smiles faltered, Bryce leaned toward Kenzie, whispering into her ear. “That was eventful,” he said curtly.

  “Yep,” Kenzie said. Her smile fell completely and she crumpled into the rocking chair on the porch, lifting Molly higher into her arms. “Did you hear what she said about the cabin? That it was ‘too rustic for a family’?”

  “Oh, yeah. I de
finitely heard that. I also heard her trying to convince you to go home and marry someone in your hometown.”

  “She just wants me to be around so I can run her errands for her, since she’s getting older, and lazier,” Kenzie said, laughing. “She’s always been a kidder.”

  They sat in the silence that followed, gazing out at the summery mountains and trees. The babies collapsed, exhausted, on their shoulders, and—conscious that this was perhaps their last bit of quiet for the day—Kenzie and Bryce opted not to move.