Chapter 14
“Maybe…it can work after all.”
Cain Caleb Montgomery II spoke the words as if they were being forced from his lips. And he had a grimace on his face while he did it. Caleb had been sitting before the fire in the parlor of Ida-May Peabody’s boarding house, talking with his father for the better part of an hour, hearing all the same arguments and keeping his father’s teacup filled with tea steeped from the little packets Selene had handed him on his way out of the Brand house tonight. He didn’t like the gray tinge to his father’s skin. He didn’t like the dizzy spell the old man had had earlier. And he didn’t like it that his father refused to admit to feeling even slightly less than peak.
Now all those things faded to background worries as shock took precedence. He stared at his father, wondering if he’d heard him wrong. Maybe he’d fallen asleep and just dreamed it. “Did you just say you might have been wrong?”
His father glared at him. “Don’t expect to be hearing it again any time soon.”
He sipped the tea, his third cup, and for just a moment Caleb wondered what sorts of herbs Selene had put into it, and whether they were fully legal.
“That woman, the mother with the onion name…”
“Vidalia,” Caleb corrected.
“That’s right Vidalia. She’s tough. I gave her my worst and she didn’t even flinch. Most females would’ve been weeping.” He puckered his lips in thought, rubbed his chin. “I like that about her. If your Maya has any of her mother’s gumption, she might just make you a decent wife. She doesn’t know how to dress or act, and that hair will have to go, but all that can be corrected. She seems bright enough to learn as she goes. I suppose she has all the raw material to be molded and shaped into—”
“I don’t want her molded or shaped into anything, Father. I like the way she dresses, and I like the way she acts, and I’d fight any man who tried to get near her hair with a pair of scissors.”
His father’s brows went up, and he studied his son’s face. “She’ll never survive in our world as she is, son. She’ll have to change, adapt to it.”
Caleb looked away, because he didn’t want to argue with his father. Not tonight. Not when that statement made so much sense, even if nothing else his father said tonight had. His world would be difficult for Maya. Maybe impossible for her.
But he wasn’t even clear on things in his own mind just yet. No, there was no sense upsetting his father by arguing with him, especially when the old man wasn’t feeling up to par.
“How…er…are the babies?” his father asked, his tone gruff.
For the second time tonight the old man had surprised him. Caleb got to his feet and walked to the fireplace, bent to toss a log onto the flames and stayed there, hunkered down as it began to burn. “The doctor says they’re both fine and strong. No sign of any problems.”
“You’re worried, though.”
Turning, he looked at his father over his shoulder. “Hell, yes, I’m worried. They’re twins. Like I was…like you were.” He felt too much showing in his eyes, so he jerked his head around, focused on the flames again.
He heard his father get up, heard his steps but didn’t turn. A hot tear burned behind Caleb’s eye, but he blinked against it. Then a hand fell on his shoulder. “I’ve been there, you know.”
Caleb’s brows came together. Stunned, he turned to look at his father.
“It’s like a nightmare, where you can only watch what happens, but you can’t move to stop it, or do a damn thing to help. You feel the dread right down deep in your gut, but you’re paralyzed.”
Blinking, Caleb said, “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
“I know.” Lowering his head, shaking it, his father went on. “We knew there were problems with one of you long before the time for the birthing came, son. The doctors felt all along that one of the twins was not developing at a normal rate.” He lowered his head. “It felt like a personal insult to me. Hell, man, I never failed at anything before! And when your mother didn’t make it, either…Caleb, I was never the same. I felt responsible. If not me, then who? I was her husband. I was supposed to protect her, take care of her.”
Caleb rose slowly. “So you blamed me for it.”
Meeting his son’s eyes, Cain nodded. “Maybe…maybe a part of me did, son. That’s true. But that ended long, long ago. Since then it’s just been…a spin.”
“A spin?”
Cain nodded. “All my rubbish about the strong surviving, the weak falling by the wayside, sacrifice for the greater good. Hell it was how I dealt with the loss. By putting a spin on it. By pretending it was a sign of strength. Because if I could make myself believe that about you and the brother you never had, then maybe I could make it true about myself and my brother, as well.” He clasped Caleb’s shoulder hard. “But it’s not true and never was. Your twin didn’t survive because he didn’t develop normally. As for my own, I’ll probably never know. But that doesn’t mean these twins of Maya’s have to suffer the same fate, son. If they’re both strong and healthy this late in the game, then chances are—”
“They’re going to be fine. Both of them. They have to be.”
His father drew a breath, sighed. “My great-grandmother had twins, and both survived. Did you know that?”
“No.”
They stood side by side now, both staring at the fire. “Maya, she’s strong. Healthy. Comes from good stock, if that harridan mother of hers is any indication,” Cain told his son.
Caleb nodded. “The woman gave birth five times without problems,” he said.
“That’s good. That bodes well.” Cain didn’t turn. He said, “Your mother used to quilt. Did I ever tell you that?”
Caleb looked at him in surprise.
“I read in that article that Maya does that sort of thing, too. Just thought you’d like to know it was something she had in common with your mother. She was talking about giving it up. Said it was too rustic a hobby for a woman in her position. She never did, though. Just kept it to herself.” Turning, he set his empty cup down. “Guess I’ll head up to bed now. Big day tomorrow, with the wedding and all.” He started toward the stairs.
“Dad.”
The old man stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Thanks.”
“Goodnight, son.”
“Night.” Caleb sat down again, alone now with his thoughts. His fears. And the new, confusing things circling his mind like sharks. He was glad his father had reached out to him tonight, tried, in his way, to mend old wrongs. But he couldn’t help but think he should have been having a long conversation with someone else tonight.
With Maya.
Because, dammit, there was so much he needed to work through where she was concerned. So much he was confused about. Mostly he wanted to know why she’d agreed to marry him. Had it been for the reasons he’d laid out? Because, frankly, he’d been making those up as he went along. It scared the hell out of him to admit it, even to himself, but he had to know. They were at zero hour. Mostly he’d just wanted to lock on to her and the babies in some way that assured him they wouldn’t just vanish from his life, fall through his tenuous grasp someday. Coming out here, he’d discovered that they were precious to him…she was precious to him. He could understand feeling that need to hold on to the babies. They were his, after all. But why that desperate need to cling to Maya?
She was the mother of his kids. That had to be stirring some kind of primal instincts to life inside him. There were probably all kinds of psychological reasons why a man would feel drawn to a woman who was about to bear his children.
Weren’t there?
And why didn’t it feel as if that was the answer? Why was he suddenly dreading the thought of taking her with him, into his world, watching her evolve into the perfect political wife, seeing her change…and maybe cut her hair? Or…give up quilting?
He stayed up by the fire for a long time, thinking, searching his mind. But all he kept seeing when he imagined th
e future was a log cabin on a hillside above a wildflower-strewn meadow. A couple of kids, and a big shaggy dog bounding through the blossoms. Maya on the front porch, in the sunshine. A doe and a pair of spotted fawns feeding out back.
He fell asleep, and the images wove into dreams. Vivid, achingly wonderful dreams.
Maya had pleaded exhaustion and gone to her room just to get out of the sight of her mother and sisters before the tears came. And once they started, they didn’t seem to want to stop. She buried her face in her pillows and thumped her mattress repeatedly with her fist, but it didn’t help.
After twenty minutes she forced herself to sit up, reached for a tissue and caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. Red puffy eyes, wild hair, streaks on her face and a runny nose looked back at her. “You are a basket case, Maya Brand,” she told herself. “Why don’t you get a grip?”
“Because you’re going to become a wife and a mother of two all in the space of the next few days, darlin’.” Her mother’s voice made her jerk her head around. Vidalia sat in the chair beside the bed. In her hands she held a big bowl of vanilla ice cream, with chocolate syrup drizzled over the top, a generous dollop of whipped cream…and two spoons.
Maya sniffled. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long enough for the ice cream to get just soft enough. I figured I’d let you cry it out. It’s cleansing, a good cry. Sometimes you just need to let it rinse you clean.”
She held out the bowl.
Maya eyed it. “I’m not hungry,” she said.
“Since when do we eat ice cream because we’re hungry?” Vidalia asked, and set the bowl in her daughter’s lap.
Maya picked up the spoon and took three consecutive bites.
“You came upstairs before I got to tell you about the wedding plans that man of yours managed to put together.”
She sniffed, ate another bite, looked at her mother.
“He spoke to Reverend Jackson, and the reverend says he’ll personally take care of getting the church ready. He even offered to have the full choir turn out, and Mrs. Sumner is practically begging to be allowed to play the organ.” Vidalia sneaked a quick taste of the ice cream with her own spoon. “And get this, Mrs. Mackensie and the Ladies’ Auxiliary volunteered to see to it the flowers arrived and take care of the decorations. Well, you know, Mrs. Mackensie’s sister is the only florist in town, so I suppose that makes sense, but—’’
“But, Mom, the church ladies don’t even like me.”
“Oh, honey, they do now.”
Maya thrust out her lower lip. “I don’t think I want them at my wedding.”
Her mother smiled. “That’s exactly what Caleb told them. He said he just wanted use of the church, thank you very much. Said he had his own florist in mind, and that he didn’t want anyone there who wasn’t specifically invited. Told the reverend his next sermon ought to be on loving thy neighbor and the dangers of false pride.” She smiled. “The reverend laughed! He said it was about time someone put that bunch in their place, and he thought Maya Brand was just the one to do it.”
Maya’s eyes widened as she stared at her mother.
“It’s true, hon. Oh, don’t you see, child? You’re getting what you’ve always wanted. Respectability. Why, you’re marrying into a family who could buy and sell this town and everyone in it. Every person who ever snubbed you is gonna be kissing up full force, just hopin’ to get invited to have a cup of coffee with you.”
Maya’s face puckered and her lower lip quivered. “Y-you’re right. That’s wh-what I’ve always w-wanted. But I wanted to earn it…not marry into it.”
“You’d already earned it, Maya. That’s the point. Those women are forced now to give you the respect you already deserved. You should be happy to see them so firmly put in their places.”
“I…know I should.”
Her mother tilted her head to one side. “Well, then, how come you’re crying?”
“I don’t know!” she wailed, and the tears flooded her face, and she shoveled in some more ice cream.
“Darlin’,” her mother said after a moment, “I do know. And so do you, deep down. And you’d best get busy thinking it through and figurin’ it out, because you’re gonna be married in a few hours, and it would be a darned good notion to have your head on straight when you do.”
Blinking several times, sitting up straighter, she thought very hard. Her mother snatched tissues from the box and wiped Maya’s face, her nose.
“Well?”
Maya stared down at the melting ice cream in the bowl. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough to be a senator’s wife.”
“You’re good enough to be anything you want to be, and you know it. I haven’t raised you to think otherwise. Now think some more. What’s really wrong?”
Maya frowned. “Maybe it’s…that I think he might not think I’m good enough—”
“Bullcookies. He wouldn’t be marrying you if he thought that way. Try again.”
“His…father. Yes, that’s it, his father hates me, and—”
“His father is a teddy bear trying to act like a grizzly. I can’t believe a daughter of mine didn’t see through that stuff and nonsense at first glance.”
Licking her lips, Maya nodded. “I did. He’s just lonely and feeling left out.”
“Uh-huh.”
Drawing a deep breath, Maya sighed, took a big bite of ice cream and thought some more. “Maybe it’s…that I don’t know what’s going to happen. I mean, I don’t want to move away from here. But he’s going to have to, if he becomes a senator. And I don’t want to go with him, but I don’t want to be left behind, either.”
“Why not?”
Her brows went up. Another bite. “Well, I…I…the babies. It would be hard on the babies, and hell, I don’t want to be raising them all alone. I mean, I’ve seen how hard that is.”
“We’ve been just fine alone, Maya. You know you could do it, and do it in spades, if you had to.”
“But this is different. I mean…okay, it’s not that I don’t think I could raise the kids alone, I mean, I could. Of course I could. I know I could.”
Vidalia nodded and dipped her spoon in for another bite.
“It’s just that I don’t want to be alone.”
“You were fine alone, a year ago,” her mother pointed out.
“That was before I met Caleb….” Maya blinked and went very still with a spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. She lowered the spoon. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “What if I love him?” She turned to stare at her mother through eyes gone wide with horror. “Landsakes, Mom, what if I love him?”
Maya’s mother sat beside her, stroking her hair and talking to her until she finally fell asleep. A restless, fitful sleep, but still, she needed the rest. And she did rest, just fine, until about 1:00 a.m. when something woke her. She wasn’t sure whether it was the howling wind outside or the sensation of being soaking wet from the waist down. She only knew that the house was freezing cold and pitch dark, and that her water had broken.
“Mom?” she called.
And then a giant band seemed to close tight around her middle, squeezing her front and back, inside and out, and she gripped her belly and yelled louder, pain and fear driving the single word out of her with far more force than before. ‘‘Mamma!”
An insistent, howling sort of cry shook Caleb out of sleep. At first, in his drowsy state, he thought it was Maya’s voice, crying out to him for help. He came awake with a start, surprised that when he opened his eyes, the only light to be seen was the orange red glow of the coals in the fireplace, a few feet from him. And the cry he’d heard was only the wind, shrieking abnormally outside. Blinking away the sleep haze, Caleb realized he’d fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room of Ida-May’s boarding house. Still, there was usually a light left on down there at night.
Sitting up, he rubbed his shoulders, suddenly chilled. Then he reached for the big lamp on the end table.
Click.
Nothing. He tried again, but it was no use. Either the bulb was blown or…
“…or the power’s out,” he said aloud. And that was when that wailing wind outside drew his attention again. And there was rattling, too. He half expected to see a death wagon come thundering into the room with a banshee at the reins, singing her funeral dirge.
He shook that image away with another shiver, a full body one this time. “It’s the wind,” he muttered. And he went to the fireplace, added three chunks of wood, then rose again and tried the wall switch. Still no lights. But as the flames grew, they illuminated the room for the most part. He could see around him. Orange and yellow, leaping shadows.
Then another light appeared. A small flame, floating closer out of the shadows, until it morphed into Ida-May herself, carrying an old-fashioned kerosene lamp. “Caleb?” she asked, squinting at him, then nodding in answer to her own question. “Power’s out,” she told him. “And it’s storming to beat all. Why I’ve never seen anything like it. Not here, and I’ve lived here my whole life!” She set the lamp on a high shelf and quickly went to the hearth to light another lamp—one Caleb hadn’t even noticed sitting there. Come to think of it, there was a candelabra on that marble stand in the corner.
Caleb went for that, brought it to the fireplace and reached for the matches there on the mantel. He didn’t need to listen to hear the fury of the storm. The wind whistled and moaned, and branches skittered against the windows and walls. He went to the nearest window, parted the curtain and tried to look outside. Dark as pitch. The entire town was black, and even the whiteness of the snow—snow that hadn’t been there last night—didn’t break it. “Looks like the whole town’s blacked out.” Then he turned. “I need to check on Maya.”
“Oh, my, yes!”
Footsteps thundered, and in moments Bobby reached the bottom of the stairs with Cain at his side. In the fire-glow, the old man’s face looked downright mean. “Dad, here, take the sofa.” Caleb helped his father to a seat, then yanked a blanket off the back and draped it over his shoulders.
“It’s colder than the hubs of hell in this place.” Cain growled, pulling the blanket closer and hunching into it.
“The power’s out, Mr. Montgomery,” Ida-May explained. “But we have the fireplace. You’ll be warm as toast in no time.” Then she looked at Bobby. “Someone should wake the others, those two lawyer fellows and Ol’ Hank. Have them come down here where it’s warm.”
“I’ll get them,” Bobby said. “Along with some more blankets.”
“Why’s the power out?” Cain demanded. “And what’s that infernal racket?” Then, blinking, he looked toward the windows. There was snow piling in their corners. He sent a startled look at Caleb. “Snowstorm? Here?”
“Yeah, the whole town is without power, by the looks of things.” Caleb tried the telephone, but there was only dead air. He clicked the cutoff several times, to no avail. Then he went to the foot of the stairs and called up them, “Bobby, bring your cell phone down.”
Cain was shaking his head. “How bad is it out there, son?”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
The old man pursed his lips. “That Brand girl…she shouldn’t be out there without heat, or even a telephone.”
“I know.”
“I have a radio, some batteries. I’ll get them,” Ida-May said, and taking one of the lamps, she hurried away. Caleb went to the door, yanked his coat off the rack and pulled it on. “I’m gonna take a look outside. Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
He stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind him. The howling there was louder, almost deafening, and a rhythmic thumping worried him. He pulled up his collar and went to the door, opened it. The wind hit it, yanked it from his hand and slammed it against the wall. Caleb ducked his head, brought his hands up in front of his face and, squinting, stepped out onto the stoop. Icy barbs of snow slashed at his face like razors. The snow on the ground was level with the top step and still coming. He tried to see up and down the road, but only shadowy drifts looking like miniature mountains and wind-driven snow were visible. Everything was covered, every rooftop and porch, every vehicle and tree. Telephone poles, those he could make out in the darkness, were tilted and leaning. Wires, laden with snow, drooped low.
He hurried back onto the porch and forced the door closed against that insistent wind. It was an effort, but he managed it. He took off his coat, shook the snow off it, stomped off his shoes and went back inside. “It’s a freaking nightmare out there. A full blown blizzard.”
His father and Bobby were pushing all the chairs nearer the fireplace. Martin and Jacob Levitz, Caleb’s lawyers, stood huddled over the radio as Ida-May turned the dial from static to static. The boarding house’s permanent resident, a grizzled fellow Caleb only knew as “Ol’ Hank,” sat in a rocker looking confused.
Finally Ida’s radio dial hit paydirt. “…the unexpected, blizzard is raging through Big Falls and surrounding areas with winds up to sixty-five miles per hour and temperatures well below freezing. Twenty-four inches of snow have already been dumped in the area, with another eighteen inches possible before morning. Residents are advised to remain in their homes if at all possible. Use fireplaces, woodstoves, kerosene heaters if you have them. If not, light all the burners on your propane or natural gas ranges. If you have none of those, then you need to dress warmly, stay dry and keep moving until daylight. All roads are closed. Emergency personnel cannot get through. Phone service is out in most of the county, and widespread power outages have been reported, though the full extent of them is not known at this time. Rescue personnel will be out in force at dawn, when this freak storm is expected to abate. If you need emergency assistance, hang a red flag from a front window or door of your home.”
Caleb swallowed hard and looked at his father. “I have to get to Maya.”
“Son, they said to wait until dawn.” He glanced at the old-fashioned pendulum clock on Ida-May’s mantel. “It’s only five or six hours away, at the most. Surely she’ll be all right until then.”
He met his father’s eyes. “What if she isn’t?”
“You could get killed out there in this mess. It’s a good five miles out to the Brand farm.”
“Dad, the nurse we saw yesterday predicted she’d give birth within forty-eight hours. Anything could be happening out there.”
“Come on, Caleb, what makes you think—”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just…I feel it in my gut. I have to get out there.” He paused, searching his father’s face. “What if it was my mother out there? What would you do, Dad?”
Thinning his lips, the old man nodded. “All right.” Then he turned. “Caleb’s going to need flashlights, with good batteries, and some damn warm clothes.”
“Flashlight, hell,” Ol’ Hank grumbled. “What the boy needs is one o’ them there snow machines. You know, like Joe Petrolla’s got.”
Caleb blinked and turned slowly to Hank. “A snowmobile?” It couldn’t be. Who would have a snowmobile in Oklahoma?
“Yep, that’s what I mean. A sno-MO-bile.”
“Hank, does this Joe…fellow live near here?”
“Lives a half mile south. Turn right at the light, if you can find the light—it’s the only light in town, you know. Turn right onto Oak Street. It’s the first house on the left.”
“I know where that is,” Caleb said, remembering every trip through this town. Picturing the street in his mind, hoping to hell he could find it in the pitch dark, in a blizzard.
“Caleb, there are guardrails along the edge of the road between here and there,” Ida-May said. “Only on the left hand side, though, cause that’s where the steeper drop is. You go out, and you find those guardrails. Let ‘em guide you so you don’t get off track. Hold right on to ‘em, till you get to the traffic light. You hear?”
He nodded. “That’s good advice, Ida-May, thank you.”
She nodded, picking up a lamp. “Now you co
me on upstairs with me. My late husband’s clothes are still packed in the closet. We’ll get you bundled up proper.”
The Brands Who Came For Christmas Page 15
