Rhys's Redemption

by Anne McAllister

  “Nothing,” he said brusquely, feeling foolish at once. “I just… was having a little trouble with the kitchen faucet. The plumber was supposed to come fix it. I wondered if you would mind going down and checking to see if it’s okay now. That… the water’s off.”

  “I didn’t see a plumber,” she said.

  “You spend every minute watching my front door?”

  “Of course not! I just… all right, fine. I’ll go check.”

  “Take your time. I’ll call you back.” He gave her ten minutes. Long enough, he figured, for her to go down to his place and come back. And then, when he called her back, he could sort of casually find out how she was.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s been a plumber there,” she said when he called her back. “I didn’t see anything new.”

  “He was just going to change the washer. It isn’t cosmetic.” Rhys dismissed the whole issue. “Thanks for doing it. How… how are you?”

  “Me?” She sounded amazed that he would ask. “Fine.”

  “Are you still getting sick?”

  “No.”

  “Feeling better, huh?” Oh, this was a terrific conversation. Really scintillating.

  “Much.”

  Dead air. Then Rhys said heartily, “Well, glad to hear it. Thanks again. Bye.” And he rang off.

  God, he was an idiot! Why the hell had he bothered to call? What difference did it make?

  None. Absolutely none.

  But, oddly, he slept better that night.

  The baby was getting bigger.

  At four months, Mariah couldn’t wear her regular jeans and shorts anymore, not even with the zips pulled down. She spread her hands across her rapidly expanding abdomen and wondered what was going on. It seemed to her that, at this stage, Chloe hadn’t been nearly this big.

  And when she had dinner with Chloe and Gibson the following Friday Chloe confirmed it. Due to deliver any day, Chloe was presently somewhat the same size as a bus and she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position in her chair.

  “I didn’t need maternity clothes until I was past four months,” she said, then looked down at her belly and sighed. “Seems hard to believe,” she said, “that I was ever as slim as you.” She looked at Mariah’s still relatively small tummy enviously. “Ah, well. Won’t be long.” She patted her abdomen. “Ready to go, kiddo?” she asked her unborn child.

  “Not now,” Gibson said quickly. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

  “I’m not supposed to eat if I’m going into labor,” Chloe informed him.

  He looked stricken. “Are you?” He was half out of his chair, looking at his wife with a mixture of concern and alarm.

  “No.” Chloe smiled beatifically. She put her hand over his and squeezed gently. “I’ll let you know in plenty of time.”

  Gibson took a shaken, nervous breath and settled back down. He gave Mariah a wry look as he picked up his beer. “She knows I’m going to panic when the time comes. She thinks it’s funny.”

  Mariah grinned. It was funny. And touching. Watching them together was always funny and touching.

  It always gave her a lump in her throat to watch Gibson and Chloe or Finn and Izzy together. Both couples were so in love, so in tune with each other. Finn and Gibson were both hard-driving, intense men, as alike in temperament as men could be. Their wives were very different—Izzy a little dizzy and Chloe gentle and practical. And yet both marriages worked.

  Because they loved each other,

  Mariah envied them that love. She envied them that their love was reciprocated. She smiled a little wistfully.

  She went home and thought of Rhys. She shouldn’t. It didn’t do her any good. He hadn’t called back. She didn't even know why he’d called in the first place. All that nonsense about a plumber! Had he been checking up on her? And if he had, what did it mean?

  The phone ringing woke her.

  She sat up, panicked, and, in the early morning light, groped for the telephone. “What?” she demanded. The clock on the bedside table said 5:47.

  “It’s a boy!” Gib crowed.

  All the air seemed to whoosh right out of her. Mariah sagged back against the pillows, dazed and relieved.

  “Did you hear me?” Gib could have been heard in Albany. “Seven pounds thirteen ounces. Twenty-one inches long. Blond hair—what there is of it. And Chloe’s eyes. Swear to God, Mariah, he’s got violet-blue eyes!”

  Mariah smiled. She laughed softly. “The girls will be drooling over him.”

  Gib laughed, too, and it sounded suspiciously like he’d been crying. “All in good time,” he said. “He’s got a little growing up to do first.”

  “Not much. I’ll be up to see him later today. I expect to do my share of drooling. How’s Chloe?”

  “Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Remarkable. She was a trouper. God, I almost died just watching. And she never batted an eye. Acted like having babies was a picnic.”

  Mariah kept right on smiling as she listened to the doting husband, the proud father. She doubted Chloe had thought it was a picnic. She bet Chloe had batted her eyes more than once or twice. She had no doubt, though, that Chloe had been a trouper. She was just glad Gib noticed.

  Of course he’d noticed. He loved Chloe. Desperately. Mariah had never seen a man as shattered as Gib had been last year when Chloe had gone back to Iowa and he’d thought she was going to marry Dave.

  He’d been a wreck then. He was a wreck again now. A good wreck. A happy wreck.

  “They’re beautiful,” he told Mariah now. “Both of ’em.”

  “I know.” Mariah was sure of it. “I’ll be up to see you all later.” Then she settled back down in her bed and added softly, “Congratulations, Gib.”

  She reached out and set the receiver on the cradle, then dragged the extra pillow tight beneath the quilt and hard against her abdomen, liking the feel of it there, warm and supporting. Other women had their husbands’ backs to hug.

  Mariah hugged a pillow.

  She swallowed hard and blinked back sudden dampness in her eyes. It was just that she was happy for Gib and Chloe and their brand-new son.

  It had nothing to do with her own life.

  She could make it with a pillow. Other women did.

  Other single parents got by every day of the week. So could she.

  “We’re going to make it just fine,” she whispered to the baby now. “You and me, we’re a team. And everything’s going to be fine. Got that?” She reached between the pillow and her belly and gave it a gentle rub.

  And felt an odd fluttering under her fingers.

  She jerked. “What?” She pressed her fingers hard against her abdomen.

  And felt it again. Fluttering!

  “Oh, my God!” She sat straight up, threw back the covers and stared at her belly. She flattened both hands against her stomach and sat completely still. Waited.

  And there it was again!

  Like butterfly wings inside her. She laughed. And felt lighter. Happier. Stronger. No longer one against the world.

  They were a team. There would be the two of them.

  Even though nothing had changed, everything was different.

  It came again. Here. No, there. Boy, could that baby move!

  She hugged the pillow to her as another half laugh, half sob welled up inside her.

  “Ah, Rhys,” she whispered. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  She went to the hospital that afternoon.

  She was looking forward to going, to meeting this new person. Brendan Gibson Walker. All seven pounds thirteen ounces of him.

  She found him asleep in a bassinet in Chloe’s room, one fist in his mouth, butt in the air. While the proud mother and father looked on, Mariah bent and studied him. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but he had fair hair like his mother and his father’s nose. She thought she could see the best of both in this beautiful child.

  “He’s lovely,” she said softly. “Gorgeous.”

>   “Gib’s already taken half a dozen rolls of film.” Chloe laughed.

  “What’s the use of having a camera if you aren’t going to use it?” Gib said practically. He winked at Mariah, then looked at his wife with an expression that was such a combination of love and tenderness that Mariah felt another tug of longing for a relationship like theirs.

  She thought of Rhys who perhaps once had felt that way about another woman. And she couldn’t help wishing he felt that way about her. Her throat felt tight and achy and she swallowed hard. This wasn’t the time to indulge herself in hopeless wishes. It was a time to rejoice—to take part in the joy that Gib and Chloe so obviously shared.

  Just then Brendan opened his eyes, blinked and yawned around his fist. And Mariah could see that his eyes really were a deep blue-violet.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “You will have to fight the girls off this one.”

  “Terrifying, isn’t it?” Chloe agreed cheerfully as Brendan began to root around in his bassinet, apparently looking for his next meal. “Bring him to me, will you?”

  “Me?” Mariah looked at her, startled.

  “Do you mind? I just thought you might want to get a head start on what you’re going to be doing before too long.” She gave Mariah a conspiratorial smile.

  “Oh. Right.” Nervously, Mariah scooped Brendan up into her arms. He was so… tiny. So fragile. So helpless. She felt a momentary sense of panic. How was she going to cope with someone just like him depending on her?

  She touched his hand and automatically Brendan’s tiny fingers locked around one of hers. His grip was amazingly strong. He whimpered and nuzzled and looked up at her through curious, unfocussed eyes. “Just a minute, buddy,” she told him, and carried him to Chloe and settled him in his mother’s arms.

  Brendan found her breast at once and glommed on. Mariah, watching, felt her body respond, as if there was some inner connection between her, an expectant mother, and this other mother and child.

  It was odd. Primal. She wondered at it even as she felt that new flutter in her abdomen again. Her murmur of surprise had Gib and Chloe looking her way.

  “Kicking you already, is he?” Chloe asked. She fixed Brendan with a loving glare. “He did his share.”

  “Not really kicking yet,” Mariah said. “Unless maybe it’s flutter kicks. Still got room to maneuver, I guess. Sure feels like it.” Her hand traced the pattern of the flutter, moving here and there.

  “Fast swimmer,” Gib said with a grin. “I was amazed the first time I felt Brendan move.” He shook his head at the memory. “It was the first time it seemed like he was real.”

  “To you. You weren’t the one throwing up and growing out of your clothes,” Chloe reminded him.

  They smiled at each other again.

  Mariah stayed a few minutes longer. Then she said she had to go. “I have a doctor’s appointment. Just a monthly check. He’s going to do an ultrasound today.”

  “So you’ll get to see your swimmer,” Gib said.

  Mariah hadn’t thought about that. It made her smile. She left them a few minutes later, and they were still smiling— at her, at their son, at each other. At the world.

  Rhys had never been happy to fight a fire before.

  He welcomed the distraction now. He didn’t care that he’d been called out of bed in Santa Barbara in the middle of the night and sent to Alaska. It was fine with him.

  He focused on what needed to be done the moment he got there. It took all his skill, all his energy, everything he had.

  But he couldn’t fight the fire every waking moment. And he couldn’t control the content of his dreams.

  And that was where Mariah seemed to blindside him.

  It made him twitchy and irritable. It made him short-tempered and sharp. He was annoyed with himself for not being able to forget her.

  He wanted to forget her! He needed to forget her!

  The trouble was, he couldn’t.

  It’s because she isn’t settled, he told himself. If he knew she was being taken care of, he’d be off the hook. If he were sure that ol’ Kevin Whoever was capable of being her husband and a father, Rhys assured himself that everything would be fine.

  She would be fine. He would be fine. The baby would be fine.

  But he didn’t know.

  He needed to find out.

  One more phone call wouldn’t hurt. Even though he’d never called her from work before this time out, things needed to be settled. It wasn’t as if he was calling her every day.

  He checked his watch. It was four p.m. in New York. A good time to get hold of her—well after any lingering sickness she might be feeling and, hopefully, before Kevin Whoever turned up for the evening.

  He punched in her number before he could think twice about it. The phone rang. And rang. He got her answering machine and stood there frozen, completely unprepared to leave a message.

  Then the phone picked up. “Hello?” she said. Her voice was breathy, gasping, as if she’d run.

  “It’s Rhys,” he said briskly. “Did you just come in?”

  “I… yes. I…” And then she didn’t say anything at all.

  He waited. Got nothing. “Mariah? Are you okay?”

  “I’m… fine.”

  Swell. They were going to have another useless conversation.

  But then she said, “I felt ’em moving, Rhys.” There was excitement in her voice. “I went to the doctor today. I saw them on the ultrasound.” There was more excitement in her tone now. Also amazement. Astonishment.

  And Rhys, repeating the words in his head, felt a quickening sense of panic. “What did you say? You saw them moving?”

  She gave a giddy, slightly hysterical laugh. “Yes! It’s twins!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Twins?

  Rhys was stunned. Pole-axed. Appalled.

  He’d called her up just to make sure Kevin Whatever-His-Name was capable of parenting one kid.

  And now she was having two!

  Cripes. Rhys took a deep breath. And then another. It didn’t seem to be doing a lot of good. He felt light-headed, desperate for air.

  Two? It boggled the mind.

  God, he wondered desperately, what were You thinking?

  His thoughts were prayer. Supplication. Pure panic.

  “How do you know?” he demanded hoarsely when he could finally speak.

  “I told you! I saw them!”

  “What?”

  “In the ultrasound. It was just amazing. There they were!” She sounded breathy, excited, and still a little disbelieving herself. “Moving around. Floating. Swimming, you know?”

  He didn’t know. Couldn’t imagine. Was trying to. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, having no idea whatsoever what he should say.

  “I didn’t realize what I was seeing at first,” Mariah said. “The doctor had to tell me. But then I could see. There were two of them! It was amazing. Just amazing. Rhys?” she said when he didn’t reply.

  “Huh?” He managed that much. He couldn’t manage more. He looked around for someplace to sit down.

  “Rhys, aren’t you…? Don’t you…? No, of course you don’t.” The eager breathiness left her voice. It was flat now, colorless. Then she murmured, “I wish…” But she didn’t finish that thought.

  Rhys wished he’d never called. “Are you… going to be… all right?”

  “Of course I’ll be all right.” She sounded brisk and dismissive now.

  “You’re sure? You… feel okay?”

  “I feel fine.” There was annoyance in her voice.

  “Well, good. Good,” he repeated with more enthusiasm. “Glad to hear it.”

  “What did you want?”

  “What? Oh, not much.” He couldn’t ask if Kevin was equipped to handle a baby now—not when they weren’t talking about one single baby anymore! Who the hell was ever equipped to handle twins? “I just had a break. I’m in Alaska, got here three days ago. Things are pretty much under control now, and I… well, I
just thought I’d give you a call.”

  She didn’t say anything to that.

  So he forced himself to go on. “You’re watering my garden, aren’t you?” In times past, it had always been understood that she would.

  “I’m watering your tomatoes, Rhys.” Her voice was flat.

  There was another long pause. A pregnant pause, Rhys thought savagely. Two of them? She was having twins? He still couldn’t imagine.

  Then Mariah said, “There’s someone knocking at the door. I have to go.”

  Kevin? Rhys wondered. He didn’t feel as if he could ask. “Right. I’ll let you go, then.” Twins. He exhaled with a shake of the head. “Take care of yourself, Mariah.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  And she was gone.

  Slowly Rhys put the receiver back on the cradle, then just stood there, unmoving. He tried to think about what she’d told him, tried to make it real. He couldn’t.

  Mariah was going to have two babies? He, who wanted no ties, no strings, no responsibilities, no commitments, was about to become the father of twins?

  No.

  He stared at the phone. Maybe he hadn’t really picked it up and called her. Maybe he’d just dreamed the whole thing.

  He could hope.

  He hoped.

  For three more weeks, he hoped. And worried and fumed. He and his crew finished up in Alaska. They got sent to Venezuela. He usually never minded where they went or how long they were gone. It had never mattered to him before.

  It did now. He was antsy. Irritated. Worried.

  And he didn’t want to worry. Damn it, caring—and worrying—was exactly what he didn’t want to do!

  He wanted to go home, to sort things out. To make sure things were taken care of—to make sure Mariah was taken care of. If he could do that, things would be all right. He would be all right.

  His boss wanted to send him to the North Sea after Venezuela.

  For the first time in his career, he said no.

  He went home.

  He got in first thing in the morning. He’d flown all night. He felt like something scraped up off the bottom of a bird cage. He needed, as he always did, a shower, a cold beer and about ten hours’ sleep.