And Babies Make Five

by Judy Duarte

  It wasn’t as though she was trying to be dishonest or vague. She just hadn’t been ready to tell Hector everything yet. “What I’m about to say and that phone call are two separate issues.”

  Okay, so that explanation wasn’t exactly true. Marian Keating and her babies’ father were definitely related. But the invitation to the Keatings’ house for dinner had nothing to do with anything.

  She glanced at him, saw the curiosity etched across his face, but she had to give him credit for biting his tongue and waiting for her explanation.

  “I’m pregnant…”

  His expression softened. “I know, Samantha. And I’m actually getting used to the idea.”

  Of her being pregnant? Or of her soon becoming a mother?

  But would he ever get used to the idea that she was having three babies in one fell swoop?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “There’s not just one baby, Hector.”

  His jaw dropped, and his lips parted. “You’re having twins?”

  “Twins plus one. Two boys and a girl.”

  “Three babies?” His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped lower yet. “Triplets?”

  She gave a little shrug. “I knew there was a possibility of having multiples, but I was just hoping for one. And…I guess you could say that I got lucky.”

  At least, she felt lucky. And she hoped Hector saw it that way, too.

  “Wow,” was all he said.

  Triple wow, she thought.

  He lifted his arm and glanced at his wristwatch again. “I’ve got to get out of here. Can we talk about this later?”

  What was there to talk about? She was expecting triplets. And any normal guy who wasn’t biologically involved—and maybe some who were—would be long gone at the news.

  As she heard his footsteps make their way from the house to the garage, as the automatic garage opener went on and the car started up, she realized Hector was long gone already.

  Whatever they’d been tiptoeing around, romance or a little harmless flirtation, she was certain had dissipated with the anticipation of three times the diapers, three times the crying, three times the mess.

  She had a feeling that when Hector returned from the office today, he’d be cool and distant.

  After all, why would he want to get involved with a woman who was having three babies?

  Chapter Eight

  For a guy who had no trouble thinking on his feet, Hector had been dumbfounded to learn that Samantha was pregnant with triplets. And even if he hadn’t been in a rush to leave, he would have been speechless.

  Of course, once his thoughts quit spinning, a slew of questions began battering him, like when were the babies going to be born? And how did she plan to raise them alone?

  If he hadn’t had a ten-o’clock appointment at Langston Construction, and if he hadn’t known that it would take him at least an hour to drive across town during morning rush hour, he might have stuck around the house a little longer. He could have called the office and told them he was coming in late. But Bradley Langston didn’t like to be put off. And he’d been champing at the bit to have this meeting.

  Still, Hector had thought long and hard about Samantha and her plight on the drive to Langston’s office.

  She was really going to have her hands full when the babies came. Who in the world would help her?

  He supposed she could hire a nanny, but something told him she would want to take a hands-on approach and raise the children herself. And if that were the case, he had no doubt that she’d do a good job of it.

  The morning meeting went into overtime, with Langston finally admitting that he might have flirted a little with the former employee who was now suing the corporation for sexual harassment. And then he’d added that he might have jokingly asked her to spend the weekend with him in Atlantic City.

  As Langston droned on about being a victim, Hector began to suspect the young woman had a solid case, and he strongly suggested they try to settle out of court. The board of directors was inclined to agree, but Langston wanted to fight it, saying his former employee misunderstood his intent.

  “If you want to fight this thing to convince your wife that you’re true blue,” Hector said, “tell her that your attorney advised against it. And that the board wanted to keep the cost of litigation down, since the legal fees could skyrocket. Then, if you’re that concerned about saving your marriage, take her on a second honeymoon. How about a cruise? A trip like that might do your health some good, too.”

  “But who’s going to run things around here if I leave?” Langston had argued.

  “Oh, hell,” the vice-president of operations snapped. “What are we? Office fixtures? Take your wife to the Mediterranean. She’s a good woman, Brad. And she doesn’t deserve the embarrassment or the grief.”

  Langston had reluctantly agreed, then buzzed his secretary and asked her to book them the best cabin available on the Crystal cruise line—ASAP.

  After the meeting ended, Hector returned to the office just in time to check his messages, return phone calls and grab a bite to eat at the corner deli, where they made a great roast beef and cheddar sandwich.

  While he was seated at one of the café-style tables near the front window, he glanced across the tree-lined street and noticed an antique shop that displayed several pieces of furniture out front. One of them was a wooden rocking chair.

  It reminded him a lot of the one his mom used to have, one she had his father bring down from the attic when Yolanda had first announced she was expecting.

  “Mija, you have no idea how handy that chair is going to be,” his mom had said. “Or how comfortable it is. They just don’t make chairs like this anymore. It used to belong to my grandmother, and she gave it to me. I rocked each of you kids in it.”

  Yolanda had gotten all teary-eyed, and the women had hugged. Later, Yolanda told Hector that the gifting of the chair had been a special mother/daughter moment.

  Heirlooms aside, he realized that Samantha wouldn’t be having any of those mother/daughter moments.

  So, after wolfing down his sandwich, Hector carried his soda across the street to get a closer look at the rocker on display. He even sat in it to make sure it was sturdy, yet comfortable.

  “How much do you want for that old chair out in front?” he asked the shopkeeper.

  “Three hundred dollars, but I’ll take off ten percent for cash.”

  Hector couldn’t believe he was asking so much. What would a new chair cost?

  “That’s a lot of money for a used rocker,” he said.

  “No, it’s not. That chair was handcrafted before the Civil War, and it’s in good condition.”

  Hector pondered the purchase a moment longer, then reached into his wallet and peeled out three one-hundred dollar bills.

  After getting a receipt, he picked up the chair and carried it back to the office. Once he got home, he would surprise Samantha with it. He figured, with three babies, she’d get three times the use out of it.

  Of course, a brand-new rocker might have been a more practical gift, since he hadn’t noticed a single antique in her house, but it looked so much like the one Yolanda had.

  And for some lame reason, Hector wanted to give Samantha a special moment, too.

  All day long, Samantha had been uneasy. And now, as it neared five o’clock, she was waiting for Hector to return from work.

  She had a feeling that their relationship had taken a big turn this morning, and not in a good direction. She’d cooked dinner for two, but if he acted the least bit distant, she was going to check into a hotel.

  Of course, if the thoughts she’d had about romance were only one-sided, and if, as he’d said, he was only trying to be neighborly, then her having three babies instead of one wouldn’t bother him a bit.

  At ten minutes after five, she picked up the newspaper he’d left on the kitchen table and carried it into the living room. Then she took a seat near the window, in the warmth of the setting sun
as it shined through the glass.

  She was reading an article about a fashion show luncheon and an auction that would benefit the local women’s shelter. Halfway through, she decided to not only attend but to offer her financial support, as well. She’d just found a contact number, when she heard Hector’s car drive up.

  She tried her best to look cool, calm and collected, but when he walked into the house carrying a beat-up old rocking chair and banging the spindled backrest against the doorjamb, she couldn’t help but stare at him.

  “What’s that?” she finally asked.

  “A rocker.”

  “I realize that, but what are you doing with it?”

  “I’m giving it to you.”

  She folded the newspaper, set it upon the glass-top coffee table and got to her feet. “For me? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s an antique. And I thought it was kind of interesting. I know it just looks like something you’d find at a garage sale, but it was handcrafted in the early nineteenth century. It’s really comfortable. You ought to try it out.”

  When it came to giving and receiving gifts, Samantha’s mother had always insisted that it was the sentiment behind the gift that held the most value. And Hector’s thoughtfulness touched her beyond measure.

  “You don’t like it,” he said as he continued to stand in the middle of the room.

  “No, that’s not it. I’m just…surprised, that’s all. Where did you get it?”

  “At an antique store not far from my office.”

  She ran her hand along the carved backrest, then set the chair in motion.

  “My grandmother used to have a rocker like that,” he added, “and she gave it to my mother a couple of months before I was born. And just recently, my mom passed it down to Yolanda, who was thrilled to get it. So I thought…”

  “I don’t know what to say, Hector.”

  His smile faltered. “I just picked it up on a whim. It’s no big deal. I can take it back if you don’t like it. I’ve got the receipt.”

  “Oh, but I do like it.” And as far as she was concerned, it was a very big deal. Besides, it was the first baby gift she’d received.

  She took a seat in the chair, rested her hands on the armrests and proceeded to rock back and forth.

  “I know this isn’t an heirloom, like the one my sister has. And since you don’t know the original owner, there’s no sentimental value attached to it.”

  He was wrong, Samantha thought. There was a great deal of sentiment in the gift. And she’d been touched by the man who’d given it to her.

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Hector. When my mom and I escaped from my stepdad that night, we only packed a few clothes and whatever we could carry. We had to leave everything else behind—photographs, jewelry my real father had given her, even the old family Bible, with the names and birth dates of my great-grandparents. So you can be sure this rocker will have a place of honor in my house.”

  “You can have it refinished,” he said. “It would look good with a new stain and varnish. Or you could even paint it to match the colors in the nursery.”

  “It also has charm and character, so I just might leave it as it is.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  She stopped the chair’s motion, got to her feet and faced him. “Thanks for thinking about me. It’s a wonderful gift.”

  Then she gave him an appreciative hug, letting their contact linger, absorbing his warmth and strength, relishing his woodsy scent. She melded into him, much like she’d done last night when she’d had the nightmare and he’d come running to her rescue.

  She would have let go, would have stepped away, if he’d given her a sign that he thought it had gone on long enough, but he continued to hold her, as if he was breathing her in, too. As if his feelings were evolving into something that matched her own, something powerful and lasting.

  As she finally released her arms from around him, she looked into his eyes, caught an emotion she couldn’t quite grasp.

  Whatever it was set her heart thumping, her hope soaring, but she was afraid to read too much into it.

  Instead, she said, “You have no idea how glad I am that we’ve become friends.”

  “Just friends?”

  Her eyes widened, and her breath stalled. “Are we becoming more than that?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifted his hand, skimmed his knuckles along her cheek. “I really have no idea what’s going on, Samantha.”

  Apparently, the triplets hadn’t scared him off, which thrilled her beyond measure. Like him, she really wasn’t sure where this was going, but she liked whatever she was feeling—a lot.

  Trouble was, she still couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the babies were Peter’s.

  And she wasn’t sure why.

  Just moments ago, Hector had come very close to pulling Samantha back into his arms and kissing her senseless. But good sense—or maybe just plain masculine fear—had held the temptation in check.

  He hadn’t expected her to thank him for the chair by giving him a hug, but he’d relished her touch, as well as the warmth of her body and the whisper of peppermint on her breath.

  The silky strands of her hair had brushed against his cheek, and the floral scent of her shampoo had taunted him. The gentle curves of her body, even the swell of her belly, had fit perfectly into his embrace.

  He would have expected just the opposite to be true—that the bulge of her pregnancy might get in the way and make things awkward. But it hadn’t, and if she hadn’t slowly removed her arms and stepped back, God only knew how long he might have held on to her.

  Their embrace hadn’t seemed to affect her in the same way it had him. Or maybe it had. She’d seemed a little unbalanced, a little uneasy.

  When she’d told him how glad she was that they’d become friends, he hadn’t been able to let that statement go without comment. Still, he’d be damned if he knew just what they’d become, but certainly more than just neighbors, more than friends.

  As they’d stood there, close enough to touch again, to kiss, he’d stroked her cheek, and everything that had been brewing between them had risen to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged. Still, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what to do about it.

  He’d admitted that much, which was a pretty big step for him in and of itself—even if she’d only been expecting one baby.

  Now, as she looked at him, and those pretty blue eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion, she was only a step and a simple reach away. But he couldn’t quite go that far and decided to put some distance between them, at least until he could wrap his mind around what he was feeling, what he was willing to risk.

  He reached for the back of the rocker. “Why don’t I take this over to your house for you and put it away. And while I’m there, I can also check on the painter’s progress.”

  Maybe she craved the distance, too, because she said, “That’s a good idea. Thanks, Hector. I’d appreciate that.”

  “Is there anything you’d like for me to get while I’m over there?” he asked.

  She pondered his offer for a moment, then brightened. “I bought a book the other day and left the bag in the backseat of my car.” She went to her purse, pulled out a set of house keys and handed them to him. “The car is in the garage.”

  “No problem. Is that all?”

  “For now.” She offered him a breezy smile that made him sorry he was leaving, sorry that he wasn’t going to wait it out and see what developed between them.

  “I’ll have dinner on the table when you get back,” she said.

  He nodded, then picked up the rocker and headed for the door. Once outside, he carried it down his walkway, then cut across the lawn to her yard. After letting himself into her house, the smell of paint accosted him, and he was glad she’d moved out until the odor faded.

  Deciding to check out the painter’s work first, he left the rocker in the living room and walked through the house, scanning t
he walls, all of which had been masked and prepared. The man seemed to have gotten a lot done today, but Hector guessed that he had a couple of days’ work left. The nursery, though, with its bright blue walls and white trim, was almost finished. The only thing missing was the wallpaper.

  He tried to envision it with the farm print on the walls, with three cribs, three dressers. Three babies.

  Samantha’s life would be changing big-time in a few months. Did he want to be a part of it?

  He imagined coming home to Samantha, to the babies, and he found himself saying yes. But maybe it was best if he took it one day at a time.

  So he left the nursery, headed for the kitchen and the door that led to the garage. Once inside, he flipped on the light switch and immediately spotted the white Jag—how could he miss it? But he also noticed that the stacks of boxes she’d designated for the Salvation Army were still there.

  She’d told him they were filled with Peter’s belongings and mentioned that she was going to have someone come and pick them up. Had she forgotten to make the call? Or was she dragging her feet on purpose? Maybe, subconsciously, she was trying to hold on to the man and his memory.

  After five years, one would think that she would be able to move on with her life. But maybe she hadn’t.

  Hector made his way to the Jag and found the shopping bag in the backseat, just as she’d said he would. He peered inside and checked out the book she’d bought: What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

  He thumbed through it for a moment, realizing she was definitely looking toward the future.

  Good, he thought. The babies would give her plenty on which to focus. So if she had any lingering thoughts about the past and Peter, they’d fall by the wayside soon enough.

  He certainly hoped so, because he wouldn’t play second fiddle to a ghost.

  When Hector returned to his house with the shopping bag, he found Samantha in the kitchen, preparing a tossed salad.

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, resting her hip against the counter. “So, how does the nursery look? I asked him to start in there.”