Wyoming Christmas Surprise

by Melissa Senate

  God.

  At just after one forty-five this morning, he’d gotten the call that had finally brought him back to life. The serial killer who’d turned Theo’s world upside down was now dead. The threat was gone.

  And Theo could come out of the shadows.

  Last year at this time, with the weeks counting down to the holidays, he’d wanted nothing more than to get that call so he could go home for Christmas. He’d been hiding out for months at that point, alive and well on a remote cattle ranch, when everyone believed he was dead. Living under a fake name, keeping to himself, earning just enough to get by and move on if necessary. But the months went on and on until, finally, the call he’d been waiting for had come. He was going home.

  The waitress came over with the refill, and Theo ducked his head low, nodding a thank-you. He’d recognized the woman, who used to work in the coffee shop on Main Street. But he couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him and gasping. Since he was supposed to be dead, he figured anyone who did a double take would assume he was just a guy who looked a lot like the Wedlock Creek police sergeant who’d been killed in the line of duty. But he wasn’t taking any chances until he explained himself to Allie.

  While the waitress poured, making small talk about the weather, he reached for the Wedlock Creek Chatter the previous customer had left on the table and pretended great interest in flipping through the free weekly newspaper. Anything to keep his head down and conversation to the bare minimum. The waitress left and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He was about to push the newspaper aside when a small boxed notice on the People in the News page caught his eye. His heart started to pound and he read the two-line notice again.

  Then again.

  Today was Thursday. And it was now, according to the clock on the wall, 11:40 am.

  Theo threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, shot out of the booth and the diner, and jumped into his black pickup, a trail of dust in his wake as he sped toward town.

  Toward Allie. His wife. About to marry another man.

  No. No, no, no, no.

  He had twenty minutes to stop her. He was fifteen minutes from the town hall. A five-year veteran of the Wedlock Creek Police Department, the former sergeant knew full well that a patrol car would be hidden in the alley just after East Elm Road; people loved to speed on the service road into the center of town. And though Theo wanted to floor the gas pedal, he couldn’t risk getting pulled over.

  Because no one, except for one FBI agent and one US marshal, knew that he was alive, that he hadn’t been killed in an explosion during a stakeout gone terribly wrong.

  He’d pay a visit to his captain later. The first person who deserved the truth about him was Allie. He’d explain and—

  And what? he thought, gripping the steering wheel. She’d moved on. She was marrying someone else.

  Maybe he should let her. Allie deserved love and happiness. She deserved a good life with whoever this Elliot Talley was. An accountant. Accountants didn’t risk their lives. They didn’t get shot at by bad guys. They didn’t almost get blown up in dark old supposedly abandoned buildings.

  Or fake their deaths.

  Thing was, regardless of all that, Allie was already married.

  So he had a wedding to stop. That was all he knew for sure right now.

  He pulled into a parking spot in the back lot at the town hall and rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time. A gold plaque marked Ceremonies was on the door at the far end of the long hallway. Theo sucked in a breath and pulled open the door, ready to shout Stop the wedding! like an insane person, but there were two people standing in front of a podium behind the mayor of Wedlock Creek and neither of them was Allie.

  They—and the mayor officiating—swiveled their heads toward the door, expressions annoyed at the intrusion.

  “Sorry,” he said, ducking back out.

  Phew. Or then again, maybe he was too late. Maybe they were ahead of schedule.

  Next to the Ceremonies room was a door with another plaque: Bridal Preparation.

  As Theo stood there, staring at the door, pushing his hat down even lower on his head as two people walked past, he realized Allie was in that Bridal Preparation room. He felt it. He felt her.

  She was in there.

  Allie. His wife.

  He sucked in another breath and thought about taking off the sunglasses and the hat, but there were people walking at the other end of the hallway. People he recognized.

  The black-and-white utilitarian clock on the wall said it was eleven fifty-six. There was no time to figure out what to say, how to say it.

  He knocked.

  As the door opened, Allie, beautiful Allie, was smiling and saying something about needing help with a tie.

  She’d been expecting her groom, he figured.

  But then she saw him and froze and her smile faded.

  And she whispered his name.

  “Theo.”

  Chapter Two

  Allie had been freshening her lipstick when someone knocked on the door. She’d glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-six. She’d figured it was Elliot needing help with his tie. He always dressed for their dates in a sports jacket and tie—and the tie was always either crooked or the knot halfway down his shirt. She’d opened the door, expecting to see Elliot’s kind, pale face in the doorway.

  But it wasn’t Elliot.

  It was a ghost.

  Theo. Wearing dark sunglasses and a black Stetson pulled down low. Even so, she recognized him. Knew it was him.

  It can’t really be Theo, Allie thought numbly, her head spinning, her knees wobbly. I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating.

  “Theo,” she whispered. “Theo.”

  He took off the hat and held it against his chest, then pocketed the sunglasses in his black leather jacket.

  She gasped at how real he looked. Same thick dark hair, same intense green eyes, same scar along his chiseled jawline. Very tall at six foot two. Muscular, as always. Were ghosts muscular? Of course not.

  You’re seeing things, she told herself, staring at him, aware her mouth was hanging open, as she reached out like a crazy person to touch him. He’s not here. He died almost two years ago.

  His ghost had come to tell her not to marry Elliot Talley, a man she didn’t love “that way,” she figured. Or his ghost was here to give his blessing. One or the other.

  “It’s me,” Theo said, reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face. “Oh, God, Allie. It is so good to see you. I have so much to tell you.”

  The contact of his hand on her face was real. He was real.

  “It’s so good to see me?” she sputtered. “What?” She shook her head again, sure he wouldn’t still be there. “I was at your funeral. You’re...”

  He stepped inside the room and shut the door, then took both her hands and led her over to the two chairs by the mirror. She sat down right before her legs gave out. “I didn’t die that night, Allie. Obviously,” he added in a choked voice as he sat beside her. “But I had to make everyone think I did to protect you.”

  She slowly shook her head again, trying to listen as he started saying something about the serial killer he and his team had been after for months. “He threatened—”

  A knock on the door interrupted him.

  “Um, Allie?” called the voice of Elliot Talley. Her fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry in two minutes. “I need to talk to you.”

  She glanced at Theo, who moved against the wall. He put back on the dark sunglasses.

  “Allie?” Elliot called out again with another knock. “I really have to talk to you.”

  Well, Elliot, she thought as she stood up, legs like rubber, it’s kind of perfect timing, since I have to talk to you, too. Seems marrying you would make me a bigamist. There went her knees again, wobbling around.

&n
bsp; She pulled open the door. Now it was Elliot who stood in the doorway, looking pale as the ghost she’d thought Theo was a minute ago. Elliot looked sick, his face a bit contorted in pain, one hand clutching his stomach.

  “Allie. Oh, God, Allie. I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Elliot said. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I’m sorry. One baby, sure. But—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe this is just cold feet and I’ll come to my senses later, but I don’t think so. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, then turned and ran down the hall. Allie stared after him openmouthed until he pushed through the door of the town hall.

  Well, she thought.

  “That him, running through the parking lot?” Theo asked, gesturing out the window.

  Allie walked over to the window, more aware of her husband standing beside her, the presence of him, than of her runaway groom, racing to his car in his tan suit. They watched as he got into his car and peeled out.

  Allie sank back down onto a chair. She’d been so careful not to sit and wrinkle her outfit. Now she planned to ball this suit up and chuck it. Or give it to Goodwill.

  Theo was alive? Theo was alive. Theo was alive.

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t process.

  “How did you even know to come here?” she asked, barely able to get the words out.

  Because he’s been keeping tabs on you, she figured. It was the only thing that made sense. He couldn’t let her get married when she already had a husband—alive and well. So he’d rushed over to stop the wedding.

  If anyone has any reason why these two should not be husband and wife, speak now or forever hold your peace.

  Then again, did mayors officiating even say that at town hall weddings? She wasn’t sure.

  I object! she imagined Theo calling out, rushing in at the last possible second. Turns out I’m not dead!

  She was losing her mind. Obviously. Her dead husband, whose funeral she had attended, was sitting right beside her, and she was out of her mind. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think.

  Did the entire police department know the truth? Had they been informing him what was going on in her life? Was that why he’d turned up here at the last possible second?

  No, she realized suddenly.

  No one was keeping tabs on her for him. She knew that with certainty. Because even if he was able to leave her, to stay “buried” for two years, there was no way he would have stayed away if he’d known about the quadruplets. She knew next to nothing about what had led Theo to fake his death, but she knew him.

  Oh, God. He didn’t know he was a father. He had no idea.

  Her brain was moving a mile a minute—so many questions, assumptions. And then her mind just shut down and filled with static and, inexplicably, the wedding march. She heard it playing over and over. Her brain on overload.

  She shook her head again, trying to make some sense of this. Theo was here. Alive.

  He pulled something from the pocket of his jacket, a folded-up piece of newspaper. He unfolded it and pointed.

  Ah. It was the wedding announcement her sisters had insisted on placing, since Allie had said no to anything wedding-ish. She’d relented on the announcement mostly to quash the whispers she still heard in the supermarket and at the baby/toddler play center: There’s that poor widow with the quadruplets! Look, she has two different sneakers on and Cheerios in her hair. She’d figured that literally alerting the media to her impending nuptials would stop the pity.

  She could imagine what people would be whispering now. Turns out her husband wasn’t dead after all, and she had no idea! That poor not-a-widow!

  Theo looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at her. “You know that truck stop diner on the freeway about ten minutes out of town?”

  Of course she knew it. They’d gotten gas there a zillion times over their five years together. Early on in their marriage, when they’d stay up all night just talking, they’d go to the twenty-four-hour diner at two thirty in the morning for omelets and home fries, gazing at each other like lovesick dopes. It was just a greasy spoon, but they made amazing chocolate milkshakes and the Starks had gone at least twice a week. Of course, that was years ago. Before, before, before.

  “Well, I stopped in to fill up the truck,” he said, “and then I figured I’d have a few cups of coffee to prepare myself, to figure out what I was going to say, how I was going to just knock on your door and tell you I was alive. I’d gone over all that in my mind during the five-hour drive to Wedlock Creek, but as I got so close, everything went out of my head. All I could think about was the look that would be on your face. How I’d lied and betrayed you. I could barely move from the booth. Until I saw the wedding announcement.”

  She stood up and moved to the window. “If you say you did it to protect me, I believe you, Theo.”

  But something was poking at her—at her heart, at her gut. That maybe he’d been relieved to walk away from her, from their rocky marriage.

  “When I saw the announcement,” he added, “I rushed here as fast as I could.”

  “Turns out you could have finished your coffee,” she said, then walked over to the window and stared out. A huge Christmas tree decorated the town green in the yard, colored lights and tinsel wrapped around it.

  She turned back to him, half expecting him to be gone, this all just a dream. He was so damned good-looking. And wearing clothes she’d never seen before, clothes the Theo Stark she’d known would never have chosen. Cowboy boots, for one. Theo had liked expensive and very comfortable Italian black leather boots for winter. And these worn, faded jeans that looked so incredibly sexy on his long, muscular frame? Theo liked dark clothing—black pants, black button-down shirt. The black leather jacket was more him, though this one had a rugged look she wouldn’t think he’d have gone for. The sunglasses he’d been wearing, though—pure Theo.

  Where have you been all this time? she wanted to ask. Why didn’t you get in touch, somehow, someway?

  But she couldn’t form words. She could only stare at him, drink him in, as questions crowded her head.

  She suddenly realized he was frowning now and it snapped her back to attention.

  “Allie,” he said. “What did your fiancé mean about the baby? ‘One baby, sure.’ What was that about?”

  “Well, at least I was right about that part,” she said. “You really don’t know.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Know what?”

  That we’re both getting the surprise of a lifetime today, Theo. You’re not only alive—but the father of baby quadruplets!

  She reached inside the top of her jacket and pulled out the gold locket her sisters had given her, flicked it open and held it out to him.

  He stepped closer and squinted at the little picture.

  He looked back up at her. “Four babies. Quadruplets? Who are they?”

  She clicked shut the locket and dropped it back under the jacket. “They’re your children, Theo.”

  * * *

  Allie watched Theo take a step back, shock on his handsome face. As she thought, he really and truly hadn’t known. Allie was surprised someone hadn’t kept tabs on her for him. Then again, she had no idea how these things worked—law enforcement officials faking their deaths for protective reasons. But Allie was well acquainted with every nuance of Theo Stark’s face and features. He’d had no idea he was a father.

  Maybe—very likely—Theo had told his contact not to update him on Allie and her life. She’d bet anything that was the case.

  “What?” he said, staring at her, his eyes full of disbelief. “What?”

  She nodded. “I found out I was pregnant a couple days before you—” What? Not died. Walked away. For almost two years.

  “Oh, Allie,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped toward her, and she could tell he wanted to pull her in
to his arms, but this time it was she who took a step back. “I’m a father?” he added in a tone she’d never heard before. A mixture of fear and wonderment.

  “The night you were—The night of the explosion,” she said, “I’d planned to tell you I was pregnant.”

  She’d never forget how she’d felt when the pink plus sign had appeared in the tiny window on the pregnancy test. That maybe a baby would save their five-year marriage. Then the sinking heart when she knew full well a baby shouldn’t and couldn’t save a marriage. They’d have to do that on their own and they’d failed miserably for the past year. So she’d kept the news to herself as long as she could, until she’d been bursting with it. But Theo hadn’t come home at all that night she’d been determined to tell him, to sit him down and demand they work out a plan to save their marriage. Because of the baby. In spite of the baby.

  There were four babies. And then no marriage to save.

  “You were pregnant,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

  “With quadruplets,” she said. “Boy, did you dodge a bullet. Literally.” Ha ha, she thought miserably and then burst into tears, her hands flying up to cover her face.

  He pulled her into his arms and she let him, her stiff muscles releasing against him.

  For months after his “death,” she’d wished she could feel his arms around her. Despite how worried she’d always been about him, Theo had always made her feel so safe. Even at the end, when their marriage was falling apart, he’d hold her and she’d believe all over again. They’d be okay. They’d work it out.

  “Why didn’t you call me? Text me? Something, anything?” she said. “How could you have let me think you were dead when you weren’t? How?” Tears streamed down her face. If she had raccoon tracks, it was fine with her. She’d earned them. She pulled away from him and grabbed tissues from the box on the table.

  The look on his face pierced right through her. “I couldn’t risk it, Allie. I can’t tell you how many times I held a prepaid cell in my hands, burning with need to hear your voice, to tell you. But I couldn’t.”

  She took a breath and dabbed under her eyes with the tissue.