Home on the Ranch--The Colorado Cowboy's Triplets

by Laura Marie Altom

  Forcing a breath, he pushed open the door to the private room.

  Only a dim light shone above the bed and curtains had been drawn on the sunny day. The stench of cleaning chemicals accosted his senses.

  From where he stood midway into the private hospital room, Emily could have been sleeping. Some kind soul had brushed her hair and dressed her in a fresh blue gown. The bed linens were drawn high and the scene was as peaceful as he supposed it could be.

  But the closer he stepped, the more last night’s chaos raged in his head.

  “Where you headed?” he asked, when his sister wobbled while rising from the sofa. In the process, she knocked several prescription bottles to the floor. “Need help?”

  After shaking her head, she teetered toward the kitchen. “Wather.”

  “What?” He trailed her. “Hon, are you okay?”

  “I—I’m so sad. I—I took extra and I still cry.”

  “You’re not making sense. How many of your tranquilizers did you take?”

  She shook her head. “I love my...s-so much. Why can’t better mom?” Tears wetted her cheeks.

  “The babies? I love them, too. You’re a great mom. But back to your medicine. How much do you think you took?”

  “I hurt. I m-miss him so bad. M-my heart aches for...” She crumpled as if an invisible force had pulled her life’s plug.

  “No, no, no...” He dropped to his knees, feeling Emily’s carotid. Weak, but still there. Terrified for her, he shot into action by calling 9-1-1 on the kitchen landline. “Stay with me.”

  “Nine-one-one. How may I direct your call?”

  “M-my sister. I think she may have accidentally overdosed.”

  “I’m sending paramedics. The address I have on file for this number is...” She rambled off a number Jed hadn’t heard in a while but thought sounded right. “Is your sister conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Is she breathing?”

  “Yes—but her inhalations are slow.”

  “Okay, sir. I’ll let the paramedics know. Please stay on the line.”

  Each minute had stretched into an eternity.

  Seated on the kitchen floor, cradling Emily’s head in his lap, Jed had held the cordless phone in the crook of his neck, giving the operator updates as needed.

  Finally, strobing ambulance lights sliced the night.

  And then he’d left the calm of Ollie’s, the shelter of Camille’s voice, to once again thrust himself into the heart of his sister’s tragic storm.

  Frenzied ER nurses and doctors shouting medical directions in what to his soldier’s ears sounded like a foreign language.

  Then came hours of silence, with him assuming his sister would be fine. Only she wasn’t. And now, here he stood, hands rammed in his jean pockets, unsure what to do or say.

  “Em...” He’d finally reached her bedside.

  He tried holding her hand, but it was cold and stiff, reminding him in no uncertain terms that she was well and truly gone.

  Jed wasn’t a crier, but found himself hunched over her, sobbing like one of the babies she’d left behind.

  “W-why?” he asked, trying to make sense of the illogical. “What am I supposed to tell Mom? Your daughters? I want—have—to believe this was an accident. But then I remember the hollow look in your eyes and it scares me. Did you want to be with Chase more than the rest of us?”

  He stared at her for the longest time, feeling like an idiot upon realizing he was waiting for her to answer.

  Jed needed to kick something. Punch a wall. But this was neither the time nor place.

  Now was the time when he wished he could be more of a touchy-feely sort. He needed to say—do—something deep or profound. But he had nothing. Where his heart used to beat with love and pride for his sister and her little family, was now an empty shell.

  He wanted to believe Emily’s death had been an accident, but what if it hadn’t? What if she truly had been so overcome by grief that not even the bond of motherhood could override her depression?

  Jed had come here to help, but instead, his sister died on his watch. What did that say about him?

  Eyes welling again, he pressed his lips tight, fighting this fresh onslaught of emotion.

  With three infant nieces now in his sole charge, taking time to grieve would be a luxury he didn’t have.

  “Rest.” He kissed Emily’s cold forehead, then took a step back. “I promise... Your girls will never want for anything—especially love.”

  After signing paperwork and insurance forms and speaking with a funeral home representative about the impossible topic of body storage until after Jed’s mother could be found, he finally left the hospital and walked on autopilot to Emily and Chase’s SUV.

  The sky above shone a deep cerulean blue.

  The only reason he knew the color was because of the summer he’d fallen so hard for Camille. With her leg broken, she’d passed time with her new hobby of painting. She’d always been begging him to drive her to an Aspen art supply store for more of her favorite shade.

  Did she still paint?

  He suddenly needed to know.

  The vehicle’s air was stuffy and too hot, and smelled of soured baby formula and something sweet and no doubt sticky.

  He started the engine and cranked the AC, but otherwise couldn’t seem to move. His limbs were as frozen as his heart.

  Leaning forward, he rested his head against the sun-scorched steering wheel. The black leather stung his forehead, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care.

  All his capacity for caring remained in that sad, sterile hospital room with his once vibrant sister.

  Lord, how he wished he hadn’t screwed things up with Camille. She’d always been good in a crisis. That time his mother’s Pomeranian, Cupcake, had been eaten by a coyote—she’d known exactly how to console his mom by giving her a tray of pretty pink-frosted cupcakes along with a matching headstone of sorts that Ollie had helped her make. She’d painted the wooden sign pink, adding the dog’s name and the dates she’d lived, along with a brief poem she’d written.

  Camille was a good person.

  And I’m not?

  Not particularly. The things Jed had seen and done had hardened him to a point that he no longer recognized himself. Right now, he should be speeding back up the mountain to care for his sister’s newborns.

  The only thing he wanted to do? Point the SUV toward Coronado and hop the first C-130 bound for anywhere in the world besides Marigold, Colorado, and Camille and more responsibility than he could comfortably handle.

  Chapter 3

  “Shouldn’t Jed be back by now?” At almost noon, Camille sat on the living room floor on the quilt she’d spread in front of the TV. Not sure what to do with three babies while her grandfather watched a Western, she tried keeping the fussy critters in their makeshift corral. “Hope Em’s going to be okay.”

  “She’s fine. You know how hospitals are. Taking too damn long for every damned thing—that way they can suck all the money out of you at the same time they suck your blood.”

  “Cynical much?” She cocked her head. Not that she had room to talk, considering her own negative world views.

  A baby tried escaping, but Camille snagged her around her tiny waist. She wished she’d paid closer attention the previous night when Jed had run through the girls’ names. She’d been so distracted by his call last night—the first in years—that she hadn’t thought to ask then, either. In her current state of too little sleep and too much worry for her friends, it bothered her, not knowing such a basic fact. She reached for her cell nearby and tried dialing Jed’s number, now in her phone from last night. No answer.

  “Do you have Emily’s number?” she asked her grandfather. She used to, but her friend recently changed it and her cellular service provider.

  “
Maybe? If I do, it would be in that blue spiral notebook I keep by the phone.” The landline phone that had sat on the kitchen counter long enough for the rubber pads to have worn off the old-fashioned rotary dial base.

  “Thanks. Mind keeping an eye on those two?” Camille rose, taking the runaway cutie for a ride on her hip. Her sisters looked like upside-down green and yellow turtles while examining each other and their toes.

  “Sure, sure...” Her grandfather waved her along. “Though I still say it’s a waste of energy to worry.”

  “Duly noted.” Camille rolled her eyes.

  Sifting through her pack rat grandfather’s papers was always an adventure. He kept every receipt and jotted mining notes as if he were a full-time college student. About two inches deep into a foot-tall pile, she unearthed the blue notebook.

  Inside were quotes from John Wayne to Oprah. Recipes for Italian Seasoned Popcorn and Candy Corn Rice Krispies Treats. Eventually, she noticed phone numbers scrawled in the margins but none for Emily.

  Sighing, she gave the baby in her arms a jiggle. “Hope your mom’s okay. Your uncle, too.”

  The infant stared, her big blue eyes wide and inquisitive. As if looking at the stranger holding her wasn’t providing enough information, she jabbed her tiny hand into Camille’s hair, curling her fingers into a fist.

  “Ouch.” Camille laughed. “You’re strong.”

  “So is Emily.” Carrying the other two babies, her grandfather entered the room. “Stop worrying. She’ll be fine.”

  “I know...” Absentmindedly nuzzling the crown of the baby’s head, Camille stared out the kitchen window at snow-covered Meyer’s Peak and shimmering, aptly named Glass Lake. She’d planned on packing a lunch and hiking there today. Looks like she’d need to put it off for another time.

  The morning feeding led to the afternoon feeding.

  With her grandfather asleep in his recliner and John Wayne’s The Quiet Man playing not so quietly on TV, Camille had almost convinced Baby #3 to close her eyes when the sound of a car engine outside jarred the tiny creature into an outraged howl that was loud enough to rouse her sisters.

  “Crap...” Camille sighed. Motherhood was no joke.

  Thank God, Jed and Emily were back to take over.

  With the two loudest little ladies in her arms, she went to the door to greet her neighbors. With poor Chase gone, Camille vowed to be there for her friend as much as possible. It wouldn’t take just a village to raise three newborns, but a thriving metropolis.

  A quick glance over her shoulder showed Baby #1 cuddling with her fuzzy pink blanket and stuffed unicorn. Eyes blessedly closed—yes.

  On her brief trek to the front door, Camille narrowly avoided tripping over stuffed bunnies and teething rings and the swing she had yet to assemble.

  She opened the door, expecting to find Emily and Jed exhausted but otherwise okay.

  The sight she encountered filled her with instant cold dread. Her stomach knotted.

  Jed sat behind the wheel—alone.

  But that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  Em could still be at the hospital. Or lying down in the roomy SUV’s backseat. There were any number of logical explanations for Jed returning on his own. She wanted to hear one of them. Now. Her runaway pulse rocketed to the worst-case scenario and that wouldn’t help any of them.

  With the babies held snuggly on her hips, she carefully navigated the porch stairs. The day was bright and sunny—not a trace of wind, with temperatures in the downright-balmy high seventies. Conifer-laced air reminded her why she loved not just Colorado, but her grandfather’s special corner of the world.

  “Hey...” She slowly approached the car.

  Jed still wasn’t moving.

  Alarm bells rang, but she shut them down.

  “Jed?” she asked through the closed car window. “Everything all right? Long night?”

  When, even after her questions, he still didn’t so much as glance her way, she could no longer deny nothing about this scene was normal.

  She took the liberty of trying to open his door, but it was locked. The engine was still running.

  “Jed?” She landed a light kick to the door. “How about killing the motor?”

  As if on autopilot, he at least complied with that small request.

  “Good,” she said with a tight nod, slipping into crisis-management mode. “Very good. Now, unlock the door for me. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  He pressed a button, resulting in an electronic click. It was an awkward move with two tiny infants pressed to her chest, but she managed to fit her hand into the handle and squeeze the latch.

  With the door open, she found Jed wearing the same clothes he had last night—khakis and a Go Navy T-shirt that hugged his remarkable chest in all the right places. Given the circumstances, whatever they might be, the observation was in incredibly poor taste.

  Slipping back into professional mode, she noticed his eyes. Red-rimmed and bloodshot to the extreme. Had it even been safe for him to drive the winding mountain road?

  “Jed...” She repositioned the babies to cup his forearm. “I’m afraid to ask. But Emily? Is she okay?”

  He shook his head. Covered his face with his hands.

  “She’s still at the hospital? That’s all right. She’s been through a lot—losing Chase. Caring for the girls. Any new mom would be overwhelmed. In fact—”

  “She’s gone.”

  Camille frowned. “Like, her doctor transferred her to another facility? Denver? Salt Lake City?”

  “She’s gone.”

  Dawning was slow to come, but when it did, the terrifying jolt was as shocking as if she’d been electrocuted. No. Chase and Emily both gone? No, no, no. The thought was inconceivable. She refused to believe it.

  One glance at Jed’s defeated posture and blank features proved his statement true. “I can’t find my mom,” he said. “I need to find her. She needs to know.”

  “Of course. I have friends on the Miami force who will pull strings to track her down.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Let’s get you inside. You need coffee. A good meal and rest.”

  “I can’t eat.”

  “You will eat. Come on...” She gestured for him to exit the car. No doubt in shock, he couldn’t seem to unlatch the seat belt, but with the babies in her arms, she wasn’t much help. Eyeing their car carriers still buckled into the back, she opened the rear door, set each baby securely in their seats, then rushed back to Jed, who needed her far worse.

  She reached past him, freeing him from the belt before easing the gearshift into Park. Thank goodness, his foot was already on the brake.

  “Come on...” She held out her arms and he fell into them.

  How many nights had she’d lain awake, dreaming of holding him again? But never like this. Not under these awful circumstances.

  Bracing herself to bear his weight, she cradled his head into the crook of her neck, smoothing his too short hair. She knew from the news that oftentimes SEALs wore full beards and long hair to blend with locals. How long had it been since Jed had been stateside from his latest overseas mission?

  He didn’t cry, just held her, clung to her as if relying on her strength to carry him through. Didn’t matter that they’d ended their once loving relationship on the ugliest of notes.

  The past ceased to matter when the present hurt this badly.

  In that moment, he needed her. She needed him.

  All the heinous death she’d witnessed, all the crimes so vicious they might have been committed by animals as opposed to humans, came roaring back.

  Jed might have held back tears, but she couldn’t. Not when sweet Emily and Chase were gone, yet monsters roamed free.

  Wasn’t fair.

  Didn’t make sense.

  Inste
ad of feeling more at peace with her place in the world, she felt more at war. Three innocent babies were now without parents. A brother without his sister. A mother without her daughter. Senseless tragedy piled atop tragedy and for what?

  If there was a God, she’d be hard-pressed to find evidence of His existence...

  * * *

  Jed was slow to wake.

  When his eyes fully opened, he rubbed sandpaper from them, gazing about his sister’s sun-flooded living room. It was the same, but different. And then it all came rushing back.

  “What happened?” one of the paramedics asked. He was a mountain of a man with a bushy red beard and hair.

  Since Emily’s situation seemed more time sensitive, Jed let the three tenors—his nieces—do what they did best. Make noise. “She lost her husband a couple weeks ago and was prescribed tranquilizers to help cope. I think she may have accidentally taken more than her prescribed dosage.”

  The two-man crew pushed him aside to lift Emily onto a collapsible stretcher. Within a few minutes, she’d been taken from the house and hefted into the ambulance’s service bay. While the red-haired mountain of a man started an IV, the slimmer of the two paramedics thrust a clipboard filled with forms at Jed.

  “Are you a relative?”

  “Her brother.”

  “Good. I’ll need you to sign for consent to treatment.”

  Jed did.

  “Does she have insurance?”

  “I’m sure, but I’ll have to find her card.”

  “You can show it at the hospital.”

  Nodding, Jed asked, “Which one?”

  “Aspen Valley. Add an emergency contact number beneath your signature.”

  Done.

  “Want to ride along?”

  “Can’t. My sister has newborn triplets. As soon as I find someone to care for them, I’ll head that way.”

  “We gotta go!” The mountain man shouted loudly enough to be heard over the rioting babies. “Her pulse is tanking.”

  “Wait—what does that mean?” Jed chased the driver out the front door. “You can help her, right?”