The Mountain Man’s Babies: Books 1-5

by Love, Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  HARPER

  When I wake up, an IV is connected to my arm; a fetal monitor is strapped to my stomach. I’m in a hospital gown, and a screen records the thumpthumpthump of the babies’ heartbeats.

  They are alive. I am alive. Oh, my heart—I’d thought, as I fell, it was all over.

  I blink back tears, press my hands to my growing belly. We’re okay. My babies and me, at least. Because I don’t know if there is anyone else left.

  Jaxon’s rumbling voice, calling out my name, asking me to stay with him in the car, rings through my head as I remember what happened before I tripped and fell.

  I told Jaxon we were done. We fought at the doctor appointment. We’re too different, from different worlds, with different dreams—and he never asked for me to stay, to be his. He agreed to let me live at his cabin after I pushed my way in.

  This housewife-game I’ve been playing at all month was a one-sided daydream that ended with me in a hospital bed, waking up from a nightmare.

  “Harper, you’re awake.” A nurse in pale pink scrubs, her dark hair tied back, enters the room. She walks over to the monitor tracking everything happening within my womb. “You’ve been here several hours, but we had you sedated to let you recover in your own time from the trauma.”

  “I see the three heartbeats,” I say, pointing to the monitor where three heartbeats are being tracked. “That means all three babies are okay, right?”

  “You are a very lucky mama,” the nurse says, repositioning a monitor on my stomach. “All three are doing very well. Look at him, there, he is just happy as a clam.”

  “He?”

  “Mmmhhmm,” the nurse says absently as she prints some records off the machine that’s tracking the babies’ and my heart rate. “I’m sure everyone says it, but you will be such a busy mother. Three babies is one thing, but three boys? You are a saint!”

  “Three boys?” My voice catches, and I don’t hide it. “I’m having three boys?”

  “You didn’t know? Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I assumed you knew. It’s routine with a multiple pregnancy that everyone involved has a very clear picture of the babies.”

  I felt overwhelmed before ... but now? Now I need what I was looking for when I fled Jaxon’s car. Comfort. Familiar. I need family.

  “Is anyone here for me?”

  “Yes, there are quite a few people waiting. Looks like you come from a big family yourself. Your parents are here, along with quite a few children. And the father is here too.”

  “My father?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure the man, Jaxon, is the father of your children. He’s been pacing the hospital for three hours, signing releases on behalf of the babies. He’s a nervous wreck, to be honest.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “The doctor is on her way. So first I need you to speak with Doctor Vance, then you can see your family.”

  As if on cue, Doctor Vance walks in, tablet in hand.

  “Harper,” she clucks. “I should never have let you walk away today.”

  “I’m just glad the babies are okay,” I say quietly. “And I hear they’re three boys?”

  She smiles softly, pulling up a chair and then sitting beside me. The nurse leaves the room, and I release a deep sigh, sure I am about to be reprimanded, and with good reason. I’ve been irresponsible in thousand different ways.

  “While you were recovering, we did ultrasounds on the triplets, and are so relieved to know they sustained zero impact from the fall. And you’re in perfect health, which is helping tremendously as you carry three babies.”

  “But…?” I frown, knowing there is always a but.

  “But your stress levels are too high. You can’t continue to term if you’re so unsettled, so up in the air. It sounds like the family doesn’t know about the high-risk pregnancy, and you and the triplets’ father don’t appear to be on the same page.”

  “High-risk pregnancy?

  “A multiple birth pregnancy is inherently high-risk, Harper. I know having triplets can appear exciting, but there’s a huge responsibility added to this situation.”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Well, first thing I suggest is make a plan with your support. That seems to be your parents and partner. After that, we can debrief on the plan and I will need to determine if, as the health care provider, it sounds feasible before I can discharge you. I think a good step would be conversations with both parties, and then everyone together.”

  I nod, knowing that what she suggests happens next is the scary part. Talking to Jaxon. And my parents. In the same room, at the same time. The thing I put my children at risk to avoid.

  I will never be so selfish again.

  Even if it means I’m doing this next part—raising these sons—all alone.

  JAX

  I watched the Doctor walk in Harper’s fucking room. That tells me she’s awake, and it also tells me that the hospital bullshit I’ve been fed all day is just about over. They told me I’d be able to see her once she was awake.

  I fought them on that; I should be able to sit in there with Harper and the babies. My children. My motherfucking family. But they said no.

  Granted, Harper decided she doesn’t quite see me that way. Which is just another piece of bullshit red tape I have to cut through to get what I want.

  What I fucking need.

  Harper back in my arms, our children growing between us.

  I need to make her understand that, yeah, this started as a one-night stand. And yeah, I don’t want to be a father right now. But I am, and I can be more. I need to show her that.

  A nurse walks past me—a nurse I know I screwed in the bathroom at Mo’s Bar downtown. Twice. Of course I have to see that shit at the same time I’m pacing the halls alongside Harper’s father.

  Did I mention her entire family is here? And yeah. They are pissed.

  But, honestly, I fucking get it.

  Their oldest daughter ran away a month ago, not telling them shit besides she was off screwing some guy in the woods.

  I’m glad her father never showed up to try and chew me out, but, shit—I know he has a few choice words for me. He’s been stewing for hours, his wife looking at me from head to fucking toe. Probably judging me on all the ways this situation is messed up.

  Her siblings, all nine of them, are sitting quietly with heads bowed, whispering. Not one is running around or arguing or fighting. Her family may be leaning toward the crazy side, but they’re sure as hell well-behaved.

  I need to man up and go talk to her parents. Because the last thing I want is to get in a room with them—with Harper—and fight. Harper doesn’t need that, and neither do the babies.

  I run my hand through my hair, over my beard. Nervous tics that are boyish bullshit. I need to be a fucking man.

  I pull back my shoulders, swallow hard. Crack my neck. I can go over there and introduce myself. This isn’t fucking rocket science.

  “Hey,” I say to her father. “I’m Jaxon.”

  He nods his head stoically. “I’m Reverend Robert. This is my wife, Shelly.” He pauses, then offers me his hand. The handshake is weak, but at least it’s a fucking handshake. An olive branch or whatever religious bullshit this guy is gunning for. Whatever. I’ll take it.

  For Harper, I’ll take anything.

  I should have fucking told her that back at my cabin, or in the doctor’s office. In my car. I should have stopped being such a pig-headed fool, and never let her run away from me. She’s here right now in a hospital bed because I was an ass. A real man would never have let it come to this. Sure, she’s having my kids, but she’s also the only woman I ever fucking want.

  She’s soft in the ways I’m hard, and curious in the ways I’m cold. She’s resilient in the ways I run, and I’m strong in the ways she’s scared. We fucking belong together. And I need her to know that.

  “Good to meet you both.” I cough as a way to pause, wanting t
o make sure I get it right. “Obviously, Harper has been at my place all month. I assume you got the letter from Dean?”

  Robert nods again. “Dean came by a month ago, yes. Seemed like a nice fellow.”

  “And the letter? He gave you that?”

  “He did. Did you read it first?”

  “No, sir,” I answer, suddenly a fucking diplomat. Since when did I fucking care about being polite?

  Oh, right—about the time Harper was admitted in the Emergency Room. About the time I nearly lost everything.

  That fall in her parents’ front yard could have been so much worse. She could have landed face down. She could have lost all the babies. Instead, everyone survived.

  She calls this pregnancy a fucking miracle?

  I call her a miracle. And I call her mine.

  “She wrote some pretty disappointing things, Jaxon. Questioned her entire faith, her values. Her moral integrity. She questioned them, and—at the same time, apparently—hid a pregnancy from us.”

  “I thought you knew,” I tell them.

  “We didn’t.”

  Robert looks at Shelly, whose eyes are rimmed in tears. I hope—shit, I’m not a praying man, but I pray he redeems himself right about now, for Harper’s sake. She ran from the car today hoping this family of hers would give her what she needed, something familiar and something safe.

  I pray they can fucking deliver.

  Robert speaks again, “This afternoon has been shocking. Losing our daughter to the sins of the world, to a man like you, is one thing. But to know she is bringing life into a life of sin? It’s unbearable to accept that she would choose such a deplorable future for her offspring. That she would choose a man of this world over eternity with her family.”

  “That is fucking bullshit, sir,” I tell him, not able to hold back. “You think Harper is a sinner? A fucking disgrace? She’s a fucking angel. So don’t stand here and talk about her like she’s dirty. Because she’s not. She’s as pure as a doe. She is nothing to be ashamed of. And to say that here, when she’s in the hospital, is goddamned crazy.”

  Robert clenches his jaw, disgust written on his face.

  “Don’t speak such vile words to me,” he says, his lips pursed in hate. “Don’t say such filth in front of my children and wife. Harper has chosen to live the life of a whore. She has chosen a man like you, with a reputation like you have, over a pious life in the church.”

  “My words are vile? You’re the one calling your daughter names—a woman who is brave and strong. You’re the one calling a woman who is fucking beautiful something dirty. Fuck you—fuck all of you,” I shout.

  I want to punch him. To bruise him. I want to hurt him, because he’s a fucking pig. A man I never want to see again. A man I never want my children near. I need Harper. And I need her now. I need her to know the truth. That I’m not going anywhere.

  Not now, not ever.

  “Excuse me, everyone.” Doctor Vance materializes as I’m neck-to-neck with Robert.

  I step back, trying to calm the fuck down. But, damn, it’s hard. I want to punch that asshole until he spins.

  Doctor Vance speaks again, “Harper is ready to see you all. I think, at this time, it would probably be best if you go in two separate groups. I know you’re all anxious to see her, but she and I have just spoken and made a tentative plan. She needs to speak with everyone separately, and then hopefully everyone together.”

  I step forward. “Can I go in now?”

  “Actually, Harper has requested to speak with her parent first,” Doctor Vance says. “How about you go get some food from the cafeteria and come back in, say, an hour?”

  I want to scream, fight, say no. But I need to let Harper be the woman she is, speak with who she needs to speak with. It’s not like her fucking father’s true feelings are going to be masked.

  I’ll be here when she’s ready.

  If she needs an hour, fine. I know exactly how I’m going to spend it.

  I leave the hospital, leave her parents, because I want nothing to do with them. And I pray Harper doesn’t either.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  HARPER

  I wait in silence, knowing that, as soon as the door opens and my parents walk in, everything will either fall into place or fall apart. This is the moment I’ve been dreading, ever since I confirmed this pregnancy. The moment I know will define my future and the future of my children. My sons.

  “Harper.” My father enters the room, my mother trailing behind him.

  His eyes cast a shadow over the room. They’re heavy with pain, with sorrow. I know this look. I’ve seen him lift up the needs of his congregation, carry their burdens, help them walk toward salvation and toward light. But while those congregants end their journeys with a new sense of peace and righteousness, they always start on their knees, broken.

  I need my parents to see that while I detoured from their plan for me—from God’s will—I ended up on their doorstep for a reason.

  “I’m sorry for leaving,” I say, my eyes on my stomach, not able to bear looking at them. I’ve felt their condemnation before. Right now, I just need their love—but I’m scared it won’t be offered.

  “What else are you sorry for?” my father asks, standing at the end of the hospital bed. My mother is beside him; she covers her mouth with her hand, clearly in shock to see me like this.

  “You want me to apologize right now?” I ask, caught off guard. My eyebrows furrow.

  “Yes. You are a sinner,” Father says, “and if you want to return to the fold, we need to know you intend on walking the straight and narrow path the Lord requires.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but then snap it shut. What am I supposed to say?

  “Have you nothing more to say for your depravity?”

  “Did the doctor tell you about the babies, then?”

  “Babies?” my mom asks. “There are more than one?”

  “The doctor only told us that you were well, and that the pregnancy was intact,” my father says.

  “I’m having triplets,” I tell them. “Three sons.”

  My parents gasp at this information—and, considering they walked in here demanding my repentance, it’s nice to see them grappling for words.

  “Can I be a single mother in your congregation?” I ask my father. “Because I wonder how I can be both? A follower of the God you preach and also a mother raising a family on her own.”

  “I’m so disappointed in you,” he answers, without offering anything concrete. “Your brothers and sisters are here praying for your repentance, your healing—and here you are, questioning our faith.”

  “I’m not questioning you,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m trying to understand. Can I believe in your God, and also be grateful that I have these babies? Because I am. I was coming to your home earlier to tell you how much I need your support, your love. Because I can’t do this on my own.”

  “You want our help now? After you’ve spent a month living in sin with that despicable man? I don’t even know who you are, Harper. No daughter of mine would act this way.”

  “I am your daughter. These babies don’t change that.”

  “These children change everything,” my mother says. “You are no longer pure or chaste.”

  “Do you hear yourselves?” I ask, incredulous. “I stayed at Jaxon’s because I was terrified of your response. And I was right in running. You aren’t being a safe haven; you’re not allowing God to be a beacon, a refuge. You’re only offering condemnation and hate.”

  “That is what sinners say, when they don’t want to look in the mirror.”

  “No,” I say. My eyes close as I determine the precise words I need to use here. “I can look in the mirror and accept the woman I am, the woman I became when I got pregnant, and the woman I want to be as a mother. It doesn’t seem like you’re interested in a relationship with me unless it’s exactly on your terms.”

  “Not my terms, Harper,” my father yells. “The terms the L
ord has laid out. Repent, and return to the fold. To your family. Your sons will be bastards in this world, but they can still be children of God.”

  “Go.” My teeth grind on the fuel their words have given me. “Leave and don’t come back. Not for me. I am done with your hate message. I am done with your hypocrisy. I wanted to give you a chance to love me and my children, but you aren’t capable of that sort of love. The kind of love I have for Jaxon. Love that sees beyond differences and accepts the other person for who they are. You can’t do that. But I can. I’m glad I’m not like you, because if I were, I wouldn’t see so clearly how much I love the man who is the father of my sons.”

  “The man who just stormed out of the hospital?” my father asks, sneering at me in disgust.

  “He left?”

  “Yes. And we are, too.”

  “Mother, is this how you want things to end with me?” I ask. “Don’t you want to know your grandsons? Know me?”

  My mother, with her long braid and plain clothes and flat expression, looks at me. “I don’t want to know you if you can’t repent, Harper. I’d rather pretend you never existed than to acknowledge I’m a mother to someone like you.”

  They leave and don’t look back. No hugs or well wishes, no how-can-we-help. Nothing. It’s as if I’m not their daughter.

  And, after they go, I wonder if I ever was. Because how could anyone turn their back on their child like they just did to me?

  I will never turn my back on my sons.

  My chin quivers as I’m left alone in the sterile hospital room. Jaxon left without saying good-bye, and my heart is shattered, but I am also not surprised. I told him to go. I’m the one who left first. I deserve to be alone now.

  But I don’t want to be alone. I wish I never asked him to return to my parent’s home. Going there forced us apart.

  And all I want now is for us to be together.

  JAX

  I meet up with Dean downtown at The King’s Diamond jewelry store. I park my truck outside, and I’m leaning against it with my hands in my pockets when he pulls up next to me.