With the baby twins surrounded by the MacLeod clan, Sawyer had made an excuse to leave for just a little while, to take the deep breath he’d barely managed all night. He’d needed some time and space to think—to process what had happened overnight, and so he’d let Maddie know he had to go into work for an hour or two. He put on his uniform, stopped at Java Jane’s for a strong, hot cup of coffee and then headed to the Wedlock Creek Chapel, to finally have that talk with elderly caretaker Annie Potterowski about her delinquent dog.
“Annie, you’ve got to keep Champ on a shorter leash,” Sawyer told her. “He’s swiped food from people six times this month. Twice from the same kid.” This morning, he’d gotten an earful on his voice mail from the parent of Danny Peterman, who thought that children should be able to walk down the street in peace with their allowance-purchased hot pretzel without a dog grabbing it and swallowing it in one mouthful. Apparently, Danny had found it hilarious the first time. Not so much the second time. Especially because Annie had flat-out refused to buy the kid another pretzel.
Short, stout, gray-haired Annie threw her hands up in the air and very slowly bent down to faux-admonish the beagle at her side in the small chapel office.
Normally, he’d leave such small potatoes to his rookie, but Annie was a character (as was her husband and fellow officiant-caretaker), and Mobley had tried too hard to be respectful to eighty-three-year-old Annie, an institution herself in Wedlock Creek, and she’d run roughshod all over him. Besides, Sawyer really had needed a little break from home. From the babies. From this crazy situation he found himself in.
His wife didn’t remember him or their life.
He was suddenly taking care of two newborns who might or might not be sticking around.
Nothing was sure in this world. He knew that. But such uncertainty left him feeling off balance. He didn’t like off balance.
“Chief, I told Champ no more swiping—you heard me tell him. And yes, I’ll put him on a shorter leash.”
Oh, I’m sure Champ was listening. Not. “Thank you, Annie. And if you see someone coming with food in their hand, you might shorten the leash around your hand even more so Champ can’t jump and get it. Also, offering to reimburse what Champ steals from people would be the right thing to do.”
“One time I offered, someone actually took me up on it!” she huffed.
“Annie Potterowski,” he said in his I’m-the-chief-of-police tone.
“Oh, fine, I will, I will, jeez. So what’s this I hear about you and Maddie taking in your baby nephews?”
Word sure spread fast in a small town. “My brother’s babies.”
“I’m so glad for you and Maddie. Everyone felt so bad,” she added on a reverent whisper.
“Bad about what?” he asked. Small town or not, he didn’t have the sense Maddie was telling anyone besides her family about their marital troubles.
“You know, your fertility issues,” she said, whispering the word fertility.
Oh, brother. “Why on earth would you think I had fertility issues?”
“You or Maddie. One of you. Otherwise, you’d have three kids by now.”
Ah.
“Well, now you have those two little newborns to care for,” she said.
“It’s not permanent, Annie.” It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
“Well, for however long. You’ll make one heck of a dad, Chief.”
He almost choked on his coffee. “What? Me? Why on earth would you say that?”
“You have all the hallmarks of a dad. Dependable. Responsible. Everyone can count on you.”
Was that true, though? Maddie hadn’t been able to depend on him for the one thing she wanted most out of life: a baby.
“And you’re just a good guy,” Annie continued. “Kind. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Good sense of humor. Fair-minded. I like you, and I’ve stopped liking most people. Some of the people I marry in this chapel—I could write a book.”
He smiled. “I’m sure.”
A knock came at the door. A couple—woman in a wedding gown and veil, man in a tux and a cowboy hat.
“We’d like to get married this minute,” the woman said.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Annie said. “Guess you’ll need to skedaddle, Chief.”
“Got my eye on you, Annie Potterowski,” he said, then flashed her a smile. He bent down to give Champ a pat. “You behave yourself, beagle.”
As he walked down the long aisle of the beautiful chapel, he easily remembered his own wedding here seven years ago. Maddie had asked him a few times if he was sure he was comfortable marrying at the chapel despite the legend of the multiples. Saying I do at the chapel meant not just one baby but two or more. Some might say it was hocus-pocus nonsense, but this town was chock-full of twins and triplets and a few sets of quadruplets. There were even two sets of quints in one family, albeit with quite an age gap.
But Sawyer had known that it meant a lot to Maddie to marry in the century-old chapel, and he’d figured they were in control of family planning, not the legend, so the legend itself didn’t scare him. Seven years later, no kids, right?
Unless he counted the two in the brand-new nursery of his house.
Those who marry in the chapel will have multiples in some way, shape or form, whether through biology, luck, marriage or happenstance...
He supposed his way was happenstance. Huh.
You’ll make one heck of a dad, Chief...
He wasn’t too sure about that. He knew he’d do what was needed; that wasn’t the problem.
He’d never been able to put the problem into words—that was the real problem, according to Maddie. Or maybe the issue was that he didn’t want to put it into words, to dredge up all uncomfortable feelings. His earliest memories included the MacLeods welcoming him at all hours, all holidays, always making a place for him at the table with an “Oh, Sawyer-boy, so glad you’re joining us for breakfast—we’re having omelets to order.” He knew what a good, solid family could be, could mean. He’d grown up witnessing it next door. But his earliest memories also included the ones he’d never been able to shake, the ones that were just there, deep inside him. Times when he couldn’t wake up his dad. When he was so hungry for breakfast and the MacLeods weren’t home and there wasn’t any milk for cereal or bread that wasn’t half-green. When a strange woman would tell him to scram for a couple of hours, his dad smiling at her while running his fingers through her hair.
When he was a bit older, twelve, thirteen and so on, all that hadn’t mattered so much. He’d gotten used to it and had his own money from his paper route. But family, his family, those were the memories lodged in his chest, the ones that had the grip on him. He’d explained all this to Maddie many times, but it didn’t make sense to her, and it didn’t really make sense to him. The feeling where paternal instincts might be was just dead, didn’t exist. He’d never wanted to go there. And he’d avoided it as long as he could.
For a long time, their love had won out, had been stronger. Maddie had truly believed he’d change his mind, and though he’d never promised her that or even said there was a real possibility of it, he’d hoped he would change his mind. That was why he’d felt okay about marrying her with such a fundamental issue standing in their way. The hope had been enough, and Maddie had never doubted he would change his mind.
He’d never changed his mind.
He walked the half mile down to the police station, the bright sun helping with the cold temperature. As he passed the community center, an easel out front next to a decorated Christmas tree caught his attention. Be a Holiday Happymaker! Adopt a family for the holidays!
That was the program that Maddie had volunteered for. He headed inside and found a few people plucking envelopes off another big Christmas tree. A sign on the wall read: Pick an envelope and inside you’ll find the holiday wish list for an anonymous fam
ily in need. Each family member is to receive at least the item noted on the form. Once complete, drop off the unwrapped items in a bag and include the ticket inside your envelope so that we can match the family with the gifts. Thank you for being a Holiday Happymaker!
Sawyer plucked an envelope off the tree and opened it.
Anonymous Family #7
Thank you for being our Santa. We can barely afford heat this winter, let alone gifts. We sure do appreciate this.
Father: Age 26. Heavyweight wool socks for outdoor work (I’m in construction).
Mother: Age 25. A Christmas Eve ham to serve 4. Thank you.
Son: Age 3. A yellow dump truck.
Son: Age 16 months. Warm pajamas with feet.
Sawyer’s heart clenched. The mother’s Christmas wish for herself was a ham enough to serve her family? The father wanted socks? To wear at his outdoor job?
Done. All done. And then some. Family number 7, you’ll be getting a lot more than socks and ham and pajamas and a dump truck.
He was about to pluck another envelope when his cell pinged with a text. Reed Barelli, one of his detectives, wanted to talk over a case. He sent back a quick See you in two minutes, and headed out, turning back to look at the tree. There were so many envelopes that his heart hurt. Maddie did this, he thought as he headed into the cold December air. This was her baby, her idea, and she made it happen.
She was such a good person and deserved every bit of happiness. And what she wanted most of all was a family—something he’d denied for so long. He didn’t want children; that hadn’t changed. But right now, they had children—for how long, he didn’t know—and while they were here he was going to change his attitude, somehow, someway.
Because hadn’t he promised Maddie ten children if that was what she wanted?
* * *
Maddie loved the hours she’d spent with the twins and her parents so much that she barely thought about her lack of memory. Her twin had had plans with her husband’s family, so she’d had to leave, and the past three hours Maddie and her mom and dad had set up the whole house, stashing “newborn twin survival totes” in all areas so that she—or Sawyer—would never be caught without easy access to a diaper or a burp cloth. April MacLeod had raised twins and was full of tips and tricks for needing more than two hands. By the time her parents had left, Maddie could honestly say she adored the MacLeods, even if she couldn’t remember them past yesterday.
She stood in the nursery, admiring the pretty yellow glider and round shag rug, the mobiles with pastel little stuffed animals that spun around above the matching white spindle bassinets, the beautiful babies asleep inside them, on soft sheets.
“It’s way too quiet in this house for newborn twins.”
Maddie whirled around. Sawyer was back. She hadn’t even heard him come in, likely because he was trying to be quiet for the babies’ sake.
“They’re asleep?” he asked, peering past her into each bassinet.
She nodded. “They’ve been asleep for five minutes, but I’ve just been standing here watching them, their tiny chests going up and down. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He stood beside her, looking down at them, Max in his new tiny-monkey-print pajamas, Shane in his green-and-white-striped ones. “No text or call back from Cole. Not even to ask about them or to check in.” He shook his head.
“I suppose he knows how they’re doing if they’re with us,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.
He looked at her. “True. It would be nice to be able to count on him the way he can count on us.”
Maddie tilted her head, taking that in. With that simple sentence, everything about Sawyer Wolfe made sense to her. He’d never been able to count on his own family. He’d never had a mother. His father had neglected his well-being. His brother never considered Sawyer’s feelings or position. Family friends and good neighbors or not, Sawyer had learned from the most tender of ages that family meant sorrow, loss, worry, fear. No wonder it was so ingrained him not to want to create his own family.
She was beginning to understand him, to know him. Maddie had a feeling that the wife she’d been, with all her memories intact, understood Sawyer quite well too—so well that she’d waited and waited and waited for the change of mind she believed he’d come around to. And now she also understood why she’d believed. Because Sawyer’s not wanting children wasn’t so much a choice he’d made but a feeling he’d been saddled with. She’d been trying to show him what love and family commitment was. But seven years later, at thirty-two, watching her twin sister’s belly grow every day, working in a shop full of expectant parents, living in a town where many children were its claim to fame, Maddie could see why she had begun to lose patience with her husband.
“Thank you for taking care of them all day,” he said. “I’ll take the night shift.”
“I loved today,” she said. “One peep out of them tonight, and I’m there. I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“Well, I’ll beat you to it.”
She smiled and put her hand on his arm again, and he turned toward her. She wanted to open her arms to him, hold him, be held, but she suddenly felt shy. Because you’ve known him all of two days, she reminded herself.
She moved behind him and rubbed his shoulders, needing, wanting to touch him. He stiffened for just a second, then relaxed, dropping his head forward and backward. His muscles were amazing. She itched to slip her hands underneath his shirt.
Turn me around. Kiss me.
“I’ll go start dinner,” he said instead. “I stopped at the market for your favorite kind of fish, and I’ll make it with that Spanish rice you love so much. Sound good?”
Oh, Sawyer. You love me. That is not in question. She moved in front of him and stood just an inch from him, her hands on his chest. “That sounds really good.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then covered one of her hands with his. He stepped back with something of an awkward smile, then almost seemed about to step closer toward her. Moose appeared in the doorway, sitting down and watching them. “Someone else wants dinner too. I’ll let you know when ours is ready.”
He squeezed her hand and then left the room, Moose padding after him.
Thanks, Moose, she thought, shaking her head with a rueful grin. She was pretty sure Sawyer had been about to kiss her.
Wishful thinking—probably. Maddie did think he wanted to kiss her, but something was holding him back. Their pre-accident issues? She’d have to make it clear she wanted him to kiss her. Hey, they were husband and wife.
Three hours later, dinner done—and delicious—the kitchen cleaned up, the babies fed, changed, read to while Sawyer held both cradled along the length of his arms in the glider, and now once again sleeping in the nursery, Maddie let out a big yawn.
“Tired, huh?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator.
“Very. I’m definitely ready for bed.” Hint. Hint hint.
“Why don’t you head up, then. I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. And as I said, I’ve got the twins tonight. You go get that much-needed sleep.”
Humph. She wanted him beside her.
“Sawyer, to be honest, I don’t feel like being alone.”
He froze for a second. “Well, in that case, the paperwork can wait. I’ll just, uh, lock up. See you upstairs in a few.”
She smiled. Ask and you shall receive, right? Sometimes, but right now, it had worked.
She could wait for him to lock up. But she had a feeling her husband was trying to allow her to once again change for bed in privacy.
In their room, she grabbed yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and went into the bathroom to change. She washed up, then stared at herself in the mirror. Fresh-scrubbed face, long hair back in ponytail, teeth minty, blue T-shirt. Not exactly sexy.
When she came out of the
bathroom, Sawyer was rooting around in his dresser. He turned and kind of froze, staring at her.
“What?” she asked. “Do I have something in my teeth? Underwear hanging out the back of my yoga pants?”
“You just look beautiful,” he said. “You always do.”
Maddie smiled. “Even with this half bump and scratch down my forehead?”
His face kind of fell, and Maddie realized she was talking from nerves, rambling away. But what she’d done was remind Sawyer of her accident. Just take a compliment when it’s offered, she yelled at herself.
She got into bed, tucking the comforter under her arms. The bed was king-size but suddenly felt small. Last night she’d been aware of Sawyer getting into bed beside her, but she’d fallen asleep so darn quickly only to be woken up just an hour later by the doorbell ringing, and she’d barely slept since. Her eyes felt heavy now, but she was more interested in Sawyer than sleep.
He stretched out beside her, turning onto his side to face her. That was unexpected. She did the same.
“I adopted a family from the Holiday Happymakers tree,” he said. “The dad only wants socks. Warm wool socks. The mother asked for a ham big enough to serve four. I’ll be tripling everything and adding things.”
She smiled. “That’s very kind, Sawyer. This is the program I volunteered for?”
“It was your idea last Christmas. And a very good one.”
“Tomorrow, I’d like to pick a family or two to adopt.”
“I want to adopt another,” he said, “so we can head over in the morning.”
She reached out her hand and touched his face, soft and slightly stubbled at the same time. Then she wiggled closer and lifted her face.
He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, a real kiss, but then he moved back a bit. “Maddie, I want you so much. Trust me when I say that sex has never been an issue between us. But the Maddie you were days ago slept on the sofa the previous two nights. You were upset and angry at me.” He hesitated for a second. “I was trying to get out of going to the mediation appointment.”
A Wyoming Christmas to Remember Page 6
