Mollywood (Carved Hearts #2)

by L. G. Pace III

  “Oh my!” She giggled, her eyes flying wide. “He is bigger!”

  “And he looks like you.” I added, stealing Eva away from her, when she started to fuss.

  “Look at all that hair.” Molly reached out her newly freed arm to stroke Logan’s dark thick faux hawk. “He’s enormous! How much did he weigh?” Molly asked, looking longingly into Logan’s curious eyes.

  “Six pounds.” I spouted. “You did good, baby girl.”

  “Can you imagine how big he would have been if he was full term?” She gasped, kissing Logan on top of his head. He screwed up his face and his tiny fists flailed out of his blanket. Molly’s radiant smile as she stared down at his beet red face was the most beautiful I had ever seen.

  The following week was a marathon of jumping at every alarm that sounded in the babies’ room and changing endless diapers. Molly drove herself mad trying to get the babies to breastfeed. When she didn’t have one of them at the breast, she was attached to the double electric pump. On several different occasions, she fell fast asleep while holding one of the twins. Terrified she’d drop them, I stood vigil beside her, nudging her encouragingly.

  Seven days after her surgery, Dr. Myers wrote the order to discharge Molly. Unfortunately, the pediatrician wanted to keep the babies for a few more days. I brought Robin back to the NICU with me to translate, and she explained that Logan’s oxygen saturation was a little below normal when they took him off his O2. They also wanted Eva to put on a tiny bit more weight before discharging her.

  When we broke the news to Molly, she didn’t take it well. She marched straight over to the NICU nurses and begged them to find somewhere in the hospital for her to stay. The nurses explained that there were no on sight accommodations for attendant mothers, but assured her that she could come any time, day or night. Molly completely broke down and I was afraid her blood pressure might get too high or that she might pop a stitch. She’d done the same thing a few days before when they’d taken Logan to circumcise him. I’d been so concerned about her reaction that I’d nearly called the whole thing off. In the end, she stayed with Eva and insisted I go with Logan. I did as she asked, though witnessing that procedure wasn’t something I was in a hurry to repeat.

  The nurses finally paged Dr. Myers, who came in to give Molly a pep talk and write her an additional prescription for anxiety. “You need to go home and get some rest, Molly. They’re in good hands. Keep pumping so you can feed those babies, but go sleep in your own bed.”

  “She’s right.” Robin agreed, showing professional solidarity. “Between Joe’s family and ours, there’ll be people here to hold those babies around the clock. The best thing you can do for them right now is to rest up and heal.”

  The sun was setting when we finally pulled into our driveway. Betty had planned to have balloons in the yard and a welcome home party, but once I got word the babies weren’t being discharged, I phoned her and told her to call it off. I knew Molly wasn’t in the frame of mind to have company.

  The house felt unnaturally quiet after nearly a week in the hospital. Robin gave me a heads up that everyone had stayed behind to clean up from Molly’s shower and that they’d had the rug and couch upholstery cleaned. Apparently Molly hadn’t only bled on the rug during her seizure, but she’d also wet herself.

  “Every one of the kids is going to need therapy.” Robin had drawled the day after the C-section. Tamryn, who’d stopped by to take me down for breakfast, had nodded emphatically.

  “I’m coaching Jamie not to say anything to Molly about it. You know how she is. No filter whatsoever.”

  “Gee, I wonder where she gets that?” I’d replied, and her eyes slid sideways. Robin chuckled and Tamryn smirked and tossed a napkin at me.

  Everything was spotless when we flipped on the lights. After a quick once over, we discovered leftovers from the shower in the fridge and all of the baby presents were in the nursery.

  “You hungry?” I asked her, but she just shook her head woefully.” Molly, you’ve barely eaten since your surgery. Dr. Myers said you need protein to heal. You have to eat something.”

  “I just want them home, Joe.” Her voice wavered, but she crossed her arms and the set of her jaw was reminiscent of the fierce girl I used to know.

  “I know, baby girl.” I wrapped my arms around her and breathed a sigh of relief when she hugged me back.

  THERE ARE THINGS that we are prepared for in life. People coach us on taking our driver’s test. Older friends prep us for prom night and graduating high school. We prep ourselves for the first time we can go out and legally drink. And then there are the things that we only think we are ready for. Like parenthood, for instance. No matter how many books you read, or how much advice you get, you’re never ready. Period.

  I thought I was getting to know the twins in the hospital, but it wasn’t until they came home, ten days after I was discharged, that my real schooling began. Even with all the endless string of volunteers, it was overwhelming…especially trying to breast feed. I pumped and pumped and produced almost no milk. We had no choice but to supplement, but the lactation consultant had a subtle way of making me feel guilty that I was starving my babies.

  Mom went to Whole Food and brought back a special tea that was supposed to help and Granny told me to drink a beer. I finally broke down and called Dr. Myers. She didn’t seem nearly as surprised as the breast feeding guru had been that I was having trouble. She called in a prescription to help with my milk supply and it did make a small difference. Still, there was no way I was making enough to feed even one of the twin’s breast milk and Eva couldn’t latch to save her life. Joe told me to quit worrying about it. They’d get what they’d get and they were gaining weight. It was hard not to feel like a failure, but I tried to let it go.

  My children were so different, even though they shared a womb. They liked different lullabies. Eva calmed down for me when I sang Let It Be, but Logan only responded to Joe’s voice. And they rarely napped at the same time. They had a variety of cries for totally different reasons, and figuring them out was like trying to crack the Davinci code. We just had to learn by doing, and both Joe and I got better at it as the days passed.

  Little Eva had Joe’s thousand-mile stare, and sometimes it appeared as if she were merely tolerating our presence with righteous indignation. She simply glared at people when they spoke to her in baby-talk. Her regal quality had us calling her HRH, short for “Her Royal Highness”.

  Logan watched everyone and everything with bright and curious eyes. He ate like crazy, and already had chubby little cheeks and forearms like Popeye. Logan was the mellower of the two, and responded with unabashed wonder when people made silly faces at him. I took pictures of them both daily and was glad I did since they were changing so much so quickly.

  Then there was the most astonishing change of all. The transformation of my fiancé. That’s something I don’t believe anyone could have ever anticipated. Everyone warned me that our relationship would change when we had kids, so I’d spent months preparing for that…mourning our freedom and the erotic heat of our sex life in advance. I figured nothing could spoil the moment more than a squawking baby…except maybe two of them. But the metamorphosis of Joe…was nothing short of remarkable. And like everything else with us, it wasn’t what one might expect.

  About three weeks after our babies had come home from the hospital. I lounged on the swing in the front yard with Robin, taking a sanity break while my mom and Tamryn fed the twins. I should have been napping, but sometimes the need for girl talk supersedes common sense.

  “Slow down!” I called after a large SUV that zipped down the road a little too fast.

  “Oh Molly-girl, you’re such a mom. It’s like you became a buzzkill overnight.” Robin joked.

  “I know, right?” I said, watching a dark sedan make a suspiciously slow journey passed our house. The windows were tinted, so naturally I imagined a psychotic child- snatching clown behind the wheel. “Next thing you know I’ll b
e the president of the neighborhood watch.”

  Robin chuckled, and then filled me in on the latest gossip. Kelly had finally agreed to a second date with Mac. He’d volunteered at her school, doing pro bono framing for a construction project that Francis clued him in on. She’d nearly ridden her bike into a tree when she saw him, and when she swerved she crashed on the grassy knoll full of stickers. He rushed down to see if she was okay, and the furious way she leapt to her feet and hobbled away made him realize his presence at her workplace had had the opposite effect he was going for. The following day, he conned one of her coworker into putting a rose in her mailbox in the school office. With it, he left her a note saying he was sorry and asked for a second chance.

  A couple of days later she sent him a text saying, “Don’t pick me up on your bike. I’m wearing a dress so you’d better make it good.” I laughed hysterically, realizing how much I’d misjudged Kelly. She just might have it in her to date my brother after all. The question was whether Mac could handle a woman who could handle him.

  Robin and I sat swinging and brainstorming places that Mac could take her that might be an antidote for Chickenshit Bingo when Joe pulled up behind the wheel of a brand new F-250 extended cab. I nearly fell off the swing as I scrambled to my feet.

  He’d been on one of his kicks, what I’d begun to refer to as ‘alpha nesting’. He’d built the babies a crib that was made to look like a train engine with an attached train car dresser. When I jokingly asked which one of the kids it was for, he looked stricken and a few days later Mac told me he was building a canopy crib for our Her Royal Highness.

  Then there was the vehicle situation. Ever since our first car ride hone from the hospital (and wedging two infant seats into the Coop) Joe had talked about getting something a little more family friendly, since his classic Ford could only seat the two of us. He’d even joked that I should trade in my mini coop for a minivan. Even so, seeing him lumber to a stop in this huge gas guzzler took me by surprise.

  “What do you think, babe?” He hopped out and leaned back against the oversized air craft carrier that took up our entire driveway.

  “What did you do?” I tried to contain my disbelief, but it was impossible. I stared at him, my mouth agape.

  “I needed something with a backseat.” He turned and eagerly opened the door. “See? I already bought car seats for it!”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded, blinking rapidly. He was glowing with pride and I hated to burst his bubble. “Joe?”

  “Yeah, baby?” He asked almost absently, beaming at his new toy.

  “How am I supposed to scale that thing to get the babies into their seats?” I expected him to look devastated, but instead he just shot me a wide grin.

  “Easy,” he motioned down and I saw a running board deploy as he opened the door. “I got this baby all decked out. I even had them install video screens so the kids can watch movies when we go places.”

  I stared at him in open disbelief. “But you loved your old truck.”

  “I love our children more. I’d rather they ride inside with us than strapped to the roof with bungee cords.” Placing his hand at the nape of my neck, he pulled me in and pecked me on the cheek. Then he bounded up the stairs. “I’m going to play with the kids,”

  “It’s official. The world’s gone completely mad,” I said to Robin, following after my fiancé. He’d reverted back to his old self so swiftly that my head was still spinning. Since I’d woken from my surgery, Joe laughed easier and seemed to relax in a manner I hadn’t witnessed since coming back to Austin.

  “He’s downright adorable.” Robin called after me, taking a sip of her Coke.

  By the time I caught up with Joe, he had a baby in each arm and was wandering around the living room talking to them in an overly enthusiastic tone. They both stared up at him as if he were some fascinating creature that had appeared out of thin air. It was hard not to chuckle at their matching furrowed brows and serious frowns.

  “Is Mommy baking bread? It smells yummy, doesn’t it? Too bad! Y’all don’t get any.” Joe murmured to the babies in a high pitched and excited voice. When Eva began to coo at him, he nodded as if he spoke her language. “Hey, don’t blame me. Grow some teeth, kid.”

  “So is it your night to stay, Betty?” Robin asked my mom. Mom, Felicia, James, and Granny were taking turns staying in our guest room. Having a third person to rotate into the night shift was a godsend, and thanks to their help, my incision was healing nicely, and I didn’t have to worry about drowsy Joe accidently chopping off his fingers or something. By rotating someone different in every night, we weren’t exhausting our help either, and Great Grandma and all the Grandparents got some time to bond with the twins. It was a bit bizarre having no private time at night, but we were nearing the end of this phase. We figured the babies would be sleeping through the night by eight to twelve weeks, and by that time Joe and I really would be craving some privacy.

  “Nope.” Mom replied, smiling approvingly at Joe as he carried on at the twins like some crazed cartoon character. “Mine was last night.”

  “It’s Friday. Friday and Saturday nights are just the two of us.” I explained. Joe looked up from his staring contest with Logan and gave me a crooked smile.

  “Good.” Robin responded. “My kids want to take their Grandma out for supper. I think they’re a bit jealous of the twins.”

  “When y’all are ready for a date night, let me know.” Tamryn smirked. “I’ll bring the girls and we’ll stay over. It’s never too early to start the subliminal birth control.”

  “Oooo…I like the way you think. Ditto.” Robin chimed in with an evil grin.

  Soon they’d all cleared out for the weekend, and Joe and I breathed a synchronized sigh of relief. Somehow with all of his hyperactive carrying on, he’d managed to lull the twins to sleep, or perhaps he’d just tuckered them out with his nonsense. He crept down the hall to tuck them into the same bassinette. We’d learned the hard way that they slept a lot better when they were cuddled up together co-sleeping. Apparently, sharing a confined space for months on end was addictive.

  I got busy in the kitchen, throwing together chicken salad sandwiches and fresh fruit salad for dinner. I was watching what I bought at the store a whole lot more carefully these days and swore off ordering in and eating out. I had twenty pounds to lose before I would even consider buying a wedding gown. The double stroller Tamryn had given me at the shower was getting a ton of use, and the babies seemed to enjoy long, meandering walks as much as I did. Between delivery, breastfeeding, and not eating ice cream on a daily basis, I’d already dropped twenty six pounds. I still couldn’t fit into most of my pre pregnancy clothes, but I was ready to marry Joe, and anxious to start planning for the next big thing.

  I sensed Joe’s presence before he announced it, feeling his electricity before he even laid a finger on me. My hands stopped mid motion, and then he was there, the length of his body molding against me, his spicy cologne filling my nostrils and immediately raising my temperature a full degree.

  “Alone at last.” His masculine growl forced my heavily lidded eyes close and I instinctively arched back against him. Physically, my recovering body was nowhere near ready for sex, but every part of me craved him. I missed him with every single fiber of my being and ached to be with him. I could feel him harden against me and sensed how badly he missed being with me. He trailed his wet lips along my neck and a desperate moan escaped me. I turned, my eyes digging into him and he cupped my jaw in his large calloused hand.

  Reaching up, I tugged his face down to mine and kissed him possessively. His response was careful…reluctant even, but it wasn’t long before he was responding enthusiastically. Soon my hands were wandering south of his belt and with a frustrated groan, he roughly pulled away.

  “Your hands are writing checks your body can’t cash, little girl.” He quipped with a ragged exhale.

  “We could do…other things…” My voice was raspy with desire and I let my eyes
trail past the waist of his faded jeans.

  He took a large step back and raked his hand through his hair. He turned and made a show of pounding his head steadily against the wall.

  “This is hard enough without you teasing me.” He drawled. It was amazing how he walked the line between cocky and sweet so proficiently.

  “You said hard.” I taunted with a tiny giggle. I couldn’t resist the joke and he turned back to roll his beautiful eyes at me.

  Leaning back against the wall he crossed his arms and gave me that damn sexy grin.

  “Yes I did. And when you’re healed I’ll be more than happy to show you exactly how dangerous it is to bait a hungry bear. But until then…” His tone let me know without question that I was cut off. I tried to pout, but he was remarkably familiar with my trickery, and shook his head.

  “Three more days.” I raised a welcoming brow at him.

  “Three more days and I’ll fuck you senseless.” He fired back, his voice full of virile promise. My heart drummed the way it always did when the animal in Joe surfaced. Then so swiftly it felt like I’d imagined it, his placid expression returned. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he directed me back to the counter. “Now, baby girl: if I’m going to help raise these hungry kids of ours, I think it is long past time you taught me a few things about cooking.”

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