She had already spread herself too thin. Between her part-time job teaching at the rodeo school and training barrel race horses on her ranch, she hardly found time to practice her own sport. As much as she loved racing, she didn’t want to be doing it when she was fifty.
She had a strong five-year plan. At least she’d thought so a week ago. She’d bought the ranch with organic farming in mind, but the large stables and round pen areas had given her the opportunity to board horses in addition to training them. Every waking hour of her day had been chock-full before the twins had become her full-time responsibility. None of her careful planning mattered anymore. Her first priority had to be Charlotte and Cheyenne, and she didn’t even know where to begin.
* * *
IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock in the evening when Noah rolled down Main Street. Ramblewood was located in the heart of Hill Country, almost two hundred miles southwest of College Station. The town was quiet except for a local honky-tonk. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he drove into town. He’d had an inexplicable need to get to Ramblewood, uncertain of what he’d find or even wanted to find. He’d asked himself the same question repeatedly during the three-and-a-half-hour drive. What will I do if the girls are mine? Somewhere south of Austin he’d concluded he wasn’t ready to be a dad. It might be a little too late for that, though.
He had passed a hotel on the way into town and decided to double back and check in for the night. After he spoke to his boss and let him know he wouldn’t be coming into work until sometime after Thanksgiving, he phoned his mother. Her disappointment that he wouldn’t be home for the holiday coupled with her curiosity about the business that would keep him away left him antsier than before. He loved his mom, but he felt the need to leave out the majority of the details. She’d be on the next plane to Texas complicating matters further if she knew the whole story. Once he had the paternity results, then he would tell her—if there was anything to tell.
He walked down the hotel hallway to grab a soda from the vending machine. How do you let your mom know you’re the father of almost-two-year-old twins? Hell, he couldn’t even fathom the fact he may have created another life, let alone two lives. His knees buckled. He reached out for the wall to steady himself, almost knocking a fire extinguisher to the floor.
I can’t breathe.
Noah barreled through the exit leading to the outdoor pool. He collapsed into one of the lounge chairs and closed his eyes, praying the world would stop spinning. Paternity test. He’d heard about them on The Jerry Springer Show, but he’d never actually known someone who needed to take one. He had no idea how long a test would even take, but he’d schedule it right after he found out where the girls lived. If he could find them. He had to find them. But then what? Take them home? He supposed the sooner the children had an established routine, the better. The thought alone surprised him. Hours ago, he was a childless man sitting in a bar. Now he might be the father of two, worrying about their routine. No, he definitely wasn’t ready for this.
Noah had hoped to find fresh perspective by morning, but that would’ve required sleep. Instead, he was back in town before the sun was even above the horizon. Memorial Garden Cemetery had been simple enough to locate. The freshly covered grave and flower arrangements were visible from the street. His feet felt leaden as he forced himself out of the car and onto the lawn. The gentle autumn breeze carried the delicate scent of roses and carnations, almost teasing him with the promise of something happy.
A hand-printed sign had been placed at the head of the grave. The L and E in her name stood out long before he got close enough to read the rest. He’d been to more than his share of funerals, but he’d never seen this many flowers. The obituary had even requested donations be made to an educational fund for the girls in lieu of flowers. The phrasing had left a bad taste in his mouth. His children shouldn’t need donations when he could provide for them. And he would have if he had known they existed. He snorted quietly. Here he was getting annoyed about other people providing for two kids he didn’t even know were his. The sound of a truck backfiring startled him. A battered Ford pickup trundled into the cemetery on what appeared to be its last legs. Appropriate place for it to die. He caught a glimpse of the driver. She looked remarkably like the woman he’d pulled up on the internet last night. Hannah Tanner...one of the country’s top barrel racers. Hers was the only other name mentioned in the obituary. His only lead to the truth.
He casually walked away from the grave, slipping his sunglasses on to hide his obvious perusal. After exiting the driver-side door, she lifted two tiny tots out of the passenger side. Since when was it okay for kids to ride in the front seat of a truck? Holding each of their hands in hers, they made their way slowly toward the mountain of flowers. Hannah’s long copper-red hair shone in the morning sun. And that was when it hit him.
Hannah was the woman who had been with Lauren when they’d met. In the pictures he’d seen online, her hair had been pulled away from her face and she’d worn a cowboy hat. This morning she wore an unadorned black button-down dress and a cropped denim jacket along with a pair of worn cowboy boots.
He climbed back into his car as he watched them, almost feeling guilty for intruding on their private moment. A part of him wanted to walk up and say hello. But if she recognized him, how would she explain who he was to the kids? He had been a one-night stand, nothing more. He wasn’t exactly a friend, either. If only the twins would turn around and look his way. A photo in a newspaper wasn’t the same as seeing them in person. He needed to be sure before he approached them.
After watching them for a few minutes, he detected the twins’ subtle differences. One was slightly taller than the other. Their barely shoulder-length, rich mahogany-brown hair reminded him of Lauren’s. When the shorter of the two faced his direction, he noticed hers was a shade or two lighter. Her gaze met his and he knew. His heart began to race. The urge to run to her and scoop her into his arms caught him off guard. She had his eyes—electric blue. They were piercingly visible even from a distance and he’d bet any amount of money in the world they were rimmed in black. He should go to her—to them—but his body remained frozen. Perspiration trickled down his left temple.
Before he could muster the will to approach them, they climbed into the old pickup and left. Noah’s palms began to sweat against the steering wheel, which he’d been using for support. Panic set in. What if he never saw them again? Fear and anxiety gripped his heart. He may not be ready to be a father, but he couldn’t walk away. Not without making absolutely sure.
He started his rental car, preparing to follow them. As they drove onto Main Street, he almost lost them at a traffic light. Once it changed, he managed to catch up while maintaining a reasonable distance until they turned onto a dusty ranch road. Quickly jotting down where he was and how he got there, he reluctantly headed into town. He could have followed them home, but that seemed creepy. He didn’t want to scare them or cause Hannah to feel unsafe. Approaching them required some thought and definitely more finesse than he had at the moment.
If he planned to stay in Texas for more than one night, he needed to buy some clothes and toiletries. His original trip to Texas hadn’t involved staying longer than a day. Maybe he’d be able to learn more about Hannah and her connection to the kids before he made his next move. He’d start with calling the hospital about a paternity test. If he was right, he had some enormous decisions to make. That both terrified and excited him. None of his relationships had reached the kid-talk stage. He’d assumed he would have kids someday, but he had never given much thought as to when.
Noah took a deep breath. Most men had nine months to plan for this; he hadn’t even had twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter. He’d love them more than life itself. Noah smiled. He already did.
* * *
THE RAP AGAINST the screen door caught Hannah by surprise. Everyone she knew didn’t bother wit
h formalities and always let themselves in.
“It’s open,” Hannah called from beside the living room hearth. She wanted to finish replacing the loose tiles before her mother dropped off the kids. The person knocked again.
What in the world? Hannah huffed.
She scraped off her trowel and loosely covered the tub of adhesive grout. Her parents had taken the twins over to their house to play, giving her a chance to make some repairs without them underfoot. Just when she completed one task, she’d notice another potential hazard. She’d even considered sending them to her parents’ house to stay for a week or two, but she didn’t want to confuse them even further. “I said it was open.”
Hannah rounded the corner to the front door, surprised to see a stranger in a pantsuit peering at her through the screen.
“Miss Hannah Tanner?” the woman asked.
Hannah hesitated. The woman looked official...too official. “May I help you?”
“Are you Hannah Tanner?” the woman asked a bit more sternly.
Hannah stiffened her spine and gripped the doorframe. “I am, and who might you be?”
“I’m Constance Malone from Luna County Social Services.” The woman’s face showed zero expression. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend Lauren Elgrove. Normally I would have called first, but I was unable to find a number for you. I’m here to follow up on the placement of Charlotte and Cheyenne Elgrove. May I come in?”
“I don’t have a house phone, just a cell.” Hannah opened the screen door, allowing her to enter. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you. I gave all my information to Social Services in Boston. I didn’t realize there was anything more for me to do.”
Constance glanced around the foyer toward the living room, and then in the opposite direction at the dining area, which had become a construction catchall over the past few days.
“Please pardon the mess.” Hannah wrung her hands. “We’re in the middle of making some improvements on the house.”
“We?” Constance removed a pen and notebook from her oversized tote and began writing.
“My family and I.” Hannah didn’t appreciate being on the defensive in her own home. “I am trying to baby-proof the house. The girls’ arrival was quite unexpected.”
“Where are the children? I would like to meet them.”
“They’re visiting with my parents for a few hours while I work on the house.” Hannah pulled her phone from her pocket. “I can call and have my mom bring them back.”
“I can meet them another time.” Constance stepped farther into the living room. “I understand they have lived with you before. Do you mind if I have a look around? I’m required to perform a home evaluation.”
Oh, crap! “Um, sure. I wasn’t exactly prepared for your visit.”
“I understand this is rather sudden. Everyone involved needs time to adjust. That’s why I’m here—to aid in the girls’ adjustment.” Constance examined the thermostat. “Do you always keep it this cold in here?” She jotted down something on her notepad.
Hannah tugged the bandanna from the top of her head in a vain attempt to look more presentable. “I lowered it because my brother sanded the banister earlier and I wanted to air the residual dust out of the house before I damp mopped the floors. That’s also why the front door was open.” She ran her hand down the front of her paint-stained T-shirt.
She followed closely behind Constance for almost an hour as the woman took numerous notes. Hannah’s jaw began to ache from clenching it so tightly. After a mini interrogation about her lifestyle and finances, the social worker handed her a mile-long list of items that needed to be resolved before next week’s inspection.
“What happens if I can’t get these completed by then?” Hannah asked. They’d been mired in long-term renovations even before they realized they’d need to baby-proof.
“Miss Tanner, we understand this is a very difficult time for you and the children.” Constance removed her glasses. “It’s not my intention to appear hardhearted, but your home isn’t exactly a child-friendly environment. I know you were in the middle of renovations when the twins arrived, but it’s my job to put their safety first. I sympathize with you, but I’m afraid if the repairs aren’t made, I’ll be forced to remove the children and place them in temporary foster care until your home is ready. And I’m emphasizing temporary. It wouldn’t be forever. Just until you are better equipped to manage them.”
“Foster care?” Hannah tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m their legal guardian. Our attorneys drew up the documents when Lauren created her will before the twins were born.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Constance gathered the paperwork she’d spread across the kitchen table. “Since you already have a couple of completed rooms and what appears to be a strong support system, I feel comfortable leaving them here with you, for now. But I urge you to complete that list. I will work with you in whatever way I can. It’s clear to me you’re making a valiant effort. Please be sure the children are available next week. I will be out to see you next Friday.”
Hannah followed Constance to the door. Even with her family’s help, it would be impossible to finish everything. “What if I move into my parents’ house with the girls until the repairs are completed? Will that give me more time?”
Constance shook her head. “I’m allowing an additional two days because of Thanksgiving. I probably won’t have a chance to perform another home evaluation before next Friday at a residence you may or may not be living in. You have nine days.” Constance reached into her tote and removed her notepad once again. “Give me your parents’ address and I’ll try my best to visit them before the end of next week. No guarantees, though. So please complete that list. I try to do everything I can to prevent placing a child—let alone two—in temporary foster care before a weekend, because it ties everyone’s hands until the following Monday. Thank you for your time today.” She gave Hannah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I have faith you can do this, Miss Tanner.”
Hannah’s world tilted on its axis. She closed the front door behind Constance and scrambled into the kitchen, pushing the containers of food aside on the counter in an attempt to find her phone. Help! She needed it and fast. She refused to let Lauren down. Hell would freeze over before anyone took those children away from her, even temporarily.
Copyright © 2016 by Amanda Renee
ISBN-13: 9781488010552
A Montana Christmas Reunion
Copyright © 2016 by Rosaline Fox
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A Montana Christmas Reunion Page 19
