The Baby Twins

by Laura Marie Altom

  "Don't let her get to you," Olivia said, fluffing Stephanie's hair. "She'll eventually come around, and when she does, she'll give you a big apology and everything will be better between you."

  "Hope so." Staring at herself in the mirror, Stephanie suddenly felt old. Tired. She'd been through a lot for such a young age. It seemed as if only yesterday since she'd been dress shopping for her wedding to Michael. Her budget had been much smaller, and she'd ended up having a friend's mother make her gown. It'd been simple, yet elegant. Perfect for their summer garden wedding.

  Eyes closed, she saw Michael standing at the end of the morning glory-covered gazebo that'd served as their altar. He'd worn his navy dress whites. His white rose boutonniere matched the flowers in her hair.

  Lightning bugs glittered like stars in the trees and the perfection of the moment they shared their first kiss as man and wife had been spellbinding.

  From out of nowhere, her heart began to race.

  Eyes open, she said to Olivia, "I have to get out of this dress."

  "What's wrong?" her friend asked. "Are you sick?"

  Unable to speak, Stephanie just nodded.

  Clawing frantically at the row of buttons she'd once thought charming, she felt light-headed and queasy and drenched with sweat. "I have to get out. Please, help me."

  "I am," Olivia assured, "but just like it took a while to get you into this fancy number, it's going to take time to get you out."

  "No," Stephanie said with a wild shake of her head. "I need air. I can't breathe. Seriously, I'm going to die." Bolting from the dressing room with her dress only half-undone, she found an emergency back exit that when she pressed the panic bar, launched a fire alarm's wail.

  The clerk came running. "Is everything all right?"

  Outside, sleet pelted Stephanie's bare arms and face. She didn't care. She was beyond caring. All she knew was that she had to run as far as possible to escape. To find her way back to Michael. But she was so tired, and her limbs ached. She tried reaching Olivia's SUV, but her legs turned numb, buckling with her every step.

  "She can't wear that dress out of here," the clerk shouted. "It's over three thousand dollars."

  "Leave us alone for a second," Stephanie heard Olivia tell the woman, "and I promise we'll be right in to pay."

  "Do I have stupid written on my forehead? Your crazy friend just set off my fire alarm, and now she's out in the snow, wearing one of my priciest gowns."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake," Olivia snapped, digging through her purse and then flinging her Visa Platinum across the pavement. "We're paying for the damned dress. Just leave us alone."

  With an indignant string of insults, the woman finally left.

  "Steph? Honey?" Olivia slowly approached. "Where's your medication?"

  "I don't know," she said through messy tears. "I don't have attacks anymore, so I didn't think I'd need it."

  "Uh-huh." With so much of her skin exposed, in the midteen temperatures, Stephanie's teeth began to chatter. Olivia wrapped her arms around her, urging her back into the shop. "Come on, honey. Let's get you warmed up."

  Exhausted, Stephanie went along with whatever Olivia wanted her to do. She usually insisted on making her own decisions, but with Michael's heartbreakingly handsome image still haunting her, she was just too tired.

  * * *

  "YOU CAN STOP TALKING ABOUT ME like I'm not here." Dressed in a gray sweatsuit with her feet snug in thick, white socks and her hair crammed into a scrunchie, Stephanie knew she was far from looking her best, but at the moment, her appearance was the least of her worries. With Brady and Olivia sharing the sofa, the twins happily gumming blocks in their playpen, the afternoon should've been idyllic. Far from it. After she'd slept the whole way home, and then crawled directly into bed from there, her best friend and fiancé stared at her as if she'd sprouted alien antennae. "I know I freaked out, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

  "That's the problem," Brady said, "you obviously don't know when one of these attacks are coming. What if this happened when you're alone with the girls?"

  "It won't," she barked, sitting hard on the armchair across from the sofa.

  "Honey," Olivia said, her voice softer than Brady's, "we're understandably concerned. Do you have any idea what triggered it? One minute, you were happy and smiling, and the next, out of your mind."

  "Thanks," Stephanie said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "It always makes me feel better knowing my friends are on my side."

  "I'm totally on your side," Olivia argued, "but Brady and I are both worried that Lisa may have been right. Maybe you aren't ready for another wedding so soon after losing Michael."

  "So soon?" Stephanie shook her head. "It's been nearly two years. I think that's long enough to sit in my self-imposed depression prison. I'm tired of being sad. I just want things to go back to the way they were meant to be."

  "Please don't take this the wrong way," Brady said, "but you do get the fact that I'm not Michael, and never could hope to take his place? I love you, sweetie, but the two of us have to make a fresh start, and if you're still hung up on—"

  "Quit," Stephanie pleaded, hands over her ears. "For heaven's sake, I'm over him. Why won't any of you believe me?"

  Instantly by her side, Brady knelt, cupping his hands to her knees. "Maybe because you just flipped out in the middle of a bridal store? Sweetie, I hate to say this, but I have to agree with Olivia that maybe marrying so soon isn't the best idea."

  "It's a wonderful idea," she snapped. "And you're awful for suggesting what we're doing is wrong."

  "That's not what I'm saying. I'm worried about you. We all are."

  "Well, stop." Leaning forward, she forced a smile and gave him a kiss. "I'm fine. Great. I had a little setback and it won't happen again."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "You sure you took your medicine?" Brady asked Steph on board their Seattle-bound flight. He wished he'd been able to fly her out himself, but with his schedule full, there hadn't been time. Steph had seemed anxious through the Little Rock to Dallas leg of their travels.

  She nodded.

  Holding tight to Steph's cold hand, Brady wasn't sure that with only two weeks until their wedding, flying out for a whirlwind weekend shopping trip for Lola's flower girl dress was a good call, but since Steph had seemed fine since her incident, he'd agreed with her plan. He'd managed to snag first-class seats, which he hoped would help calm her.

  With coach-class passengers still streaming by, he said, "We don't have to do this, you know? If you're not feeling it, you can change your mind."

  "Why are you making this a big deal?" she asked. "I used to fly all the time. The only reason I had trouble on the way to Miami was because it was the first time I'd flown since Michael died."

  "That's all I wanted to know. I love you."

  "Me, too." Sleepy from her tranquilizers, she rested her head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

  Though Brady was relieved that the flight would be stress-free, he couldn't help but worry that more was going on with Steph than he knew. Most times they were together, he felt as if he'd known her forever. Then there were days when she seemed quiet and withdrawn. And when he asked what was bothering her, she always said she was tired. But what if it was more? What if she still suffered from depression over Michael's death and her marriage to Brady was nothing more than a bandage for her still-raw wounds?

  Another issue nagging him was the fact Steph had never once said she loved him. Oh, she'd shown she cared for him a hundred different ways, but she'd never said the words. A small thing, but important. At least to him.

  About twenty minutes from landing, Steph roused. "Did I sleep through the whole flight?"

  "Pretty much," he said, kissing her forehead. "You didn't miss anything too exciting."

  "I've never flown first class. What was the meal?"

  "A little filet mignon, lobster, caviar. The usual."

  "And you didn't wake me?" she complained with the cutest pou
t.

  "I'm teasing. Dinner was tasty, but nothing fancy. Some kind of chicken stuff. I'm sure you wouldn't have liked it."

  The plane hit a patch of turbulence, causing Steph's face to pale.

  "We're fine," he said. "Take deep breaths."

  Nodding, she said, "I know. Thank you for putting up with me. I'll be better once we're down."

  He stroked her hand. "Why did you want to do this? Clarissa and Lola are perfectly capable of finding a pale pink dress."

  "I never said they weren't. I just want to help." Fidgeting with the end of her seat belt, she added, "Plus, I wanted you to see that I'm over my fear of flying. I know you're worried about my panic attacks, but you need to know I'm better."

  "Are you?" He didn't mean to put her on the spot, but he was on the verge of sharing his life with her. If he knew for sure she was better, he'd stop worrying about her. If not, he wanted to make sure she got the best medical care.

  "Yes. Of course. You don't believe me?" Her eyes pooled.

  "It's not that," he assured her while flight attendants prepared the cabin for landing. "I love you, care about you. You claim to be magically better, but how do you know? Virtually anything could trigger another attack."

  Sighing, she turned to gaze out the window. "Do we have to do this now? This trip was supposed to have been fun."

  "It will be." He took her hand and brushed her palm with his thumb. "I'm sorry I upset you. That's not at all what I'd intended."

  "What did you intend, Brady?"

  Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he said, "I don't know. Again, I'm sorry I even brought it up. I thought the whole panic thing was isolated to flying. You're not in the air that often, so taking a pill for relief is a no-brainer. But when you flipped out wedding dress shopping…We're talking a whole new ball game."

  "I hardly flipped out." Beneath the cabin, the landing gear clunked into position. Stephanie had a death grip on her seat's armrests.

  "An issue of semantics," he said, trying to stay calm. "Even if you were, let's say, unsettled, it's something I'd like you to get checked out."

  "You want me to go to a shrink?" Expression mortified, she said under her breath, "My doctor—the one I've been with for over a decade—seems to think I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me that an occasional dose of medicine won't fix."

  Not wanting to rock the boat—or her mood—any further, he acquiesced. "You're right. I'm overreacting, and the fact that you've made it through this flight with no incidents proves you've already made progress."

  Snorting, she said, "Thanks for at least admitting that. No matter what you and my friends and my melodramatic sister think, when I'm with you, I don't have a care in the world."

  Great. But what about the times when she wasn't with him?

  * * *

  "STEPHANIE," CLARISSA SAID, holding open her front door. To say the house was merely beautiful would be a major understatement. "It's been too long. Lola chats about you and your adorable twins all the time."

  "I've heard about you, too," Stephanie said, brushing past her one-time friend with her sleek dark hair and legs that went on for miles. Compared to her, Steph felt like an Oompa Loompa straight out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

  Lola wasn't yet home from school, and while Brady was outside roughhousing with a lovable sheepdog, Clarissa pulled her aside. "I owe you an apology."

  "Oh?" Forgiveness requests seemed to be the day's theme.

  "I was mortified when Lola told me she'd told you that I'd called you some, well, unflattering names. It was a bitch move, and I'm sorry. Things with Brady have been tough. Sometimes I find myself just wanting all of this drama to end." With a sad laugh, she added, "Ironic how this time, I was the one to start it."

  Taken aback by Clarissa's words, she said, "Um, thanks. I covered for you with Lola as best I could."

  "I know." Covering her face with her hands, she ad mitted, "Lola reported back with your new-and-improved definitions for my words. You acted classy, whereas her own mother did her a disservice. Again, I'm sorry, and I hope we can pick up where we last left off."

  "Um…" Surprised by this turn of events, Steph grasped the woman's outstretched hand. "If you'll recall, the last time we were together involved lampshades and way too many margaritas."

  They shared a long, cleansing laugh.

  "Oh, Steph, I can't believe it's really been that long since we all hung out. Who would've thought dear, funny Michael would be gone and you and Brady would end up together? Crazy, huh?"

  Throat aching, all Stephanie could manage was a nod.

  "What's going on?" Brady asked, smelling of conifers and the light rain that'd started to fall. After the dog bounded inside, Brady closed the door.

  "We're getting reacquainted," Clarissa said. Moving through the open floor plan with gracious ease, she headed for the kitchen. "And for the record, I think you've made an excellent choice for your future bride." Eyes tearing, complexion pale, Clarissa forced cheer. "Now, how about I fix you two up with a nice, hot mug of hot chocolate or tea?"

  With a tense quality to his tone that Stephanie hadn't heard before, Brady said, "I'll take a beer."

  * * *

  "DAD!" AN HOUR'S WORTH of excruciatingly awkward small talk later, Lola burst into the house, tossing her book bag to the floor before hurtling herself into Brady's arms. Behind her stood Vince. A taller, thinner, three-years-younger version of Brady who hadn't been out of a suit since third grade. Oh—and Brady forgot to add that Vince also struck him as being perpetually uptight. "I missed you!"

  "I missed you, too, pumpkin." Burying his face in her now curly hair, she smelled like peaches. "I'm loving all of these curls. What happened to the straightener?"

  "It broke. Mom and I decided that even though Becky likes my hair straight, we like it with my natural wave."

  "Great decision," he said, nodding as if they'd decided upon world peace.

  "And, Stephanie!" Flinging herself a short distance sideways on the sofa, the little girl landed on his fiancée's lap. "I can't wait to find a dress!"

  Brady loved the way his daughter once again spoke in exclamations. It returned him to the joy of his childhood. The way he'd had no worries other than what to do with his day. Fishing. Beachcombing. Playing pirate with Vince and their friends. Endless possibilities. Endless fun. He wanted the same for his daughter. Judging by her smiling reunion with Stephanie, his choice of stepmoms was spot-on. And if Lola's devotion to her was any indication, his worries about Stephanie being emotionally off were unfounded.

  From now on, he wouldn't look for trouble where there was none. Like his jubilant little girl, with Stephanie by his side, he would laugh and live and love.

  Thirty minutes later, while Lola showed Steph her tree house, Brady found his way back inside to catch Clarissa and Vince kissing. A few months earlier, the sight would've sent him over the edge. Now, he was happy that Clarissa was in a good place. It made it all the easier for him to move on to his own slice of happiness.

  Clearing his throat, he said, "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk."

  "Sure, bro." Vince had loosened his tie and unfastened the top couple of buttons of his starched white shirt. "What's up?"

  As if tensing for an ambush, Clarissa tightened her grip on Vince's waist.

  "First off, relax." He tried smiling, and found it wasn't the impossibility it used to be whenever he was around these two. "I don't want to fight anymore, but apologize."

  Their mutual relieved sigh was audible.

  "Oh, come on," he said with a half smile, "have things between us really been that bad?"

  Both nodding, their smiles were tentative.

  Ramming his hands in his jean pockets, Brady looked away. Ashamed that as the older of the two, he'd let things between him and his brother deteriorate to this level.

  "Brady," Vince finally said, "you've gotta know neither of us planned for this—us—to happen."

  "Yeah. I know. I screw
ed up and you were there to pick up the pieces."

  "It was hardly that simple," Clarissa said. "You and I, Brady, we just crumpled. Like the foundation of our marriage had been torn out from under us. In a hundred years, I don't think we could pinpoint every little thing that went wrong. And at this point, why would we want to?"

  Nodding, a muscle working in his jaw, Brady figured that just about summed it up. Somewhere in between his reunion with Steph, he'd lost the will to fight. His animosity for two of his former best friends was gone. In its place grew cautious optimism that in the future, for Lola's sake, and even their own, they might once again be friends.

  * * *

  AS WOULD ANY TRUE PRINCESS, on Saturday, with Stephanie by her side, Lola proudly picked her own flower girl dress. It was shell-pink with a skirt sprinkled in crystals and darker pink silk roses. Admiring her self in the dressing room mirror, she said, "Becky's gonna be soooo jealous."

  Laughing, Stephanie said, "I've got to meet this girl before your dad and I head back to Arkansas."

  "Okay," she said, twirling in a circle with her arms stretched wide. "I'll ask Mom if she can sleep over."

  "That sounds fun." Gathering the dresses Lola hadn't chosen from a burgundy velvet bench, Steph said, "When they get older, you'll have to teach the twins how to have the perfect sleepover party."

  "Okay." Shimmying free of her dress, she asked, "Where are you and my dad going on your honeymoon?"

  "You know, we've been so busy planning for the ceremony that I haven't even thought about it."

  "Becky says that's when grown-ups go someplace fun without their kids so that they can kiss and stuff." She tugged on purple jeans and a sparkly white unicorn sweater. "Sounds gross to me, but the vacation part would be okay."

  Biting back a laugh, Steph strove to match the girl's solemn expression. "I agree," she said with a stern nod. "I'll have to tell your father that wherever we go, I want more fun and less kissing. Blech."

  Lola held up her hand for a high five.

  Stephanie met it, but only halfway. "Let me try that again," she said, this time meeting the girl's palm square-on.