Single with Twins

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “I’ll tuck them in, hear their prayers, then be back to check on you, Mack,” Heather said. “Maybe you’ll reconsider eating something. Come on, sweeties, off to bed with you.”

  Mustering every ounce of willpower he possessed, Mack forced his mind to become blank, allowed no further thoughts to surface. When Heather returned and sat in the chair next to the bed, he stared straight ahead, not looking at her.

  “Would you try to eat something?” she said.

  “No. Thank you.” Mack paused. “Where are you going to sleep?”

  “On the sofa in the living room.”

  Mack continued to look at a spot on the far wall. “Your sofa is lumpy, Heather. You won’t rest well there. I’m feeling very guilty about taking your bed.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “The sofa will be fine. I’m more concerned about having to work in here, continually disturbing you when you should be resting.”

  “You won’t disturb me. The hum of a computer and the clicking of keys isn’t exactly sonic-boom-level noise. Besides, I’ll be up and around tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Heather leaned forward slightly. “Is there some reason why you’re not looking at me, Mack?”

  Oh, hell, no, he thought frantically. Only the fact that he’d just discovered he was irrevocably in love with her and had no idea if it would show somehow in his eyes, on his face.

  Mack turned his head on the pillow and concentrated on the space two inches above Heather’s head.

  “I’m…I’m wiped out,” he said. “Can’t believe how tired I am, considering I slept all day. But, man, I’m beat. Need some more sleep. Yep, that’s it. I’m going to sleep now. Good night, Heather. Thanks for the bed, and the tender lovin’ care and the…see ya.”

  Heather frowned and cocked her head to one side. “Are you all right? You’re acting…I don’t know…rather strangely.”

  “Drug residue,” he said. “That’s what it is. I’ll be fine in the morning. No problem.”

  Heather stood, then bent over and brushed her lips over Mack’s, nearly causing him to groan out loud.

  “I’ll just gather my nightclothes, then shut off the light and let you get to sleep,” she said. “Promise me that you’ll call me if you need me in the night.”

  I need you for the rest of my life, Mack thought, a wave of dark despair coursing through him. But I can’t have you, Heather. Oh, God, I love you so damn much.

  “Yeah. Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

  Heather nodded, collected what she needed, then started toward the doorway.

  “Heather,” Mack said. Don’t go. Stay. Here. Close. With me. Please, Heather.

  “Yes?” she said, stopping to look back at him.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Well, good night, Mack,” she said, then turned off the light and left the room.

  “Good night…my love,” he whispered into the darkness. “I’ve got to remember, never forget…. No past. No future. Just…now.”

  Heather flung back the sheet, got to her feet, then turned and smoothed the bed linens she put on the sofa. She sat back down and leaned her head on the sofa top, staring up at the ceiling. The small clock on the end table announced the dismal fact that it was 1:17 a.m. and she had yet to get any sleep.

  She’d like to blame her inability to escape into blissful slumber on the lumpy sofa that was substituting as her bed, but she’d be lying to herself if she did.

  No, she was awake because she couldn’t shut off her mind, reliving scene after scene of all that she’d shared with Mack…including the incredibly beautiful lovemaking of the night before.

  Not only were the images in her mind unbelievably vivid, so were the memories of the emotions she had experienced. Everything, from the pure joy of laughing and talking with Mack, to the icy terror when she’d seen the spreading blood on his shirt.

  Heather sighed wearily, then looked in the direction of the hallway that led to where Mack was sleeping in her bed. Without realizing for a moment that she had moved, she found herself on her feet and walking toward her bedroom.

  She hesitated in the doorway, then moved to the side of the bed to gaze at Mack. A small gap in the curtains on the window allowed the moonlight to stream in, casting a silvery glow over him.

  A shiver coursed through her and she crossed her arms and wrapped her hands around her elbows as she continued to stare at Mack, her heart racing and tears filling her eyes.

  Here in the solitude and darkness of night, she thought, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the truth. There were no little girls to demand her attention or to allow her to avoid facing what she now knew.

  She was in love with Mack Marshall.

  Heather pressed trembling fingertips to her lips to keep a sob from escaping.

  When had it happened? she thought frantically. At what point had she lost control of her emotions and succumbed to her growing feelings for Mack? When had she foolishly sentenced herself to a lifetime of crying in the darkness for the man she loved who was far, far away? The man who had captured her heart and would take it with him when he left. The man who didn’t love her in return.

  She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Her self-disgust at her own weakness would not diminish if she could pinpoint the moment that she’d fallen in love with Mack. She was so furious with herself, she could just scream, which would solve nothing.

  Dear heaven, what was she going to do? How was she going to get through the following days without Mack realizing how she felt about him?

  If he discovered her true feelings for him, it would be the final blow to her pride, her self-respect. Silly little Heather Marshall had fallen in love with a man who would never in a million years love her in return, a man who wanted no part of forever, of commitment, of having a wife and children, roots like a tree.

  No, she thought fiercely, Mack would never know that she loved him. Mack would never know that the pattern of her life was repeating itself yet again. She loved someone who was going to walk out of her life, leave her to cry in the night…alone.

  Tears spilled onto Heather’s cheeks and she reached out one hand, wanting to touch Mack, to feel the warmth of his skin, the strength in his magnificent body, the softness of his lips that had captured hers in kisses that caused desire to consume her instantly.

  Heather snatched her hand back and hurried from the room, nearly stumbling as tears blurred her vision. In the living room she curled into a ball on the sofa, hugging the bed pillow as she tried and failed to stop crying.

  No past. No future. Just now.

  The words she had spoken the previous night before she and Mack had made love echoed suddenly in her mind and Heather clung to them like a lifeline.

  Just now. Just now. Just now, she thought. That was how she’d survive the days, hours, minutes, until Mack left. She’d live one second at a time, get through it, then square off against the next. She could do this. She had to.

  “And then Mack will get on a plane and leave,” Heather whispered. “But he’ll never know that I…oh, Mack, I love you so much.”

  Heather buried her face in the pillow and wept, feeling as though her heart was shattering into a million pieces that she’d never be able to put back together again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mack slept until noon the next day and woke feeling amazingly better…physically. His drug-induced headache was gone and the pain in his shoulder had receded to the level of a throbbing toothache.

  Mentally, emotionally, he knew, he was in rough shape. He was shaken to the core over the realization that he was deeply in love with Heather, a fact that held the promise of a bleak and lonely future.

  He couldn’t change his stripes, the basic makeup of who he was, couldn’t erase the wanderlust spirit he’d inherited from his father. He was who he was, and that truth meant that Heather would never be his.

  Well, he thought dryly, if little Emma knew what had happened to her uncle Mack’s heart, min
d and soul, she’d be jumping up and down with joy.

  Because Mack Marshall now had a dream.

  He wanted to marry Heather, to stay by her side until death parted them, to be a father to the twins and to future Marshall babies.

  Oh, yeah, he had a dream, but that was all it was…a fantasy, a heartfelt yearning, that never would be his. A chubby pink china dream piggy wouldn’t help him to achieve it. Nothing would.

  What stood between him and his dream was himself, and he was powerless to change who he was.

  Mack frowned. He was assuming a lot here, he supposed, taking too much for granted. If he was a different kind of man, Heather would quickly agree to marry him, declare her love for him, want a future with him just as he did with her. Maybe her feelings for him didn’t even run that deeply. She’d bid him adieu when he left, then get back to business as usual…Mack Marshall being out of sight, out of mind.

  No, he thought fiercely. He didn’t believe that, not for a second. Heather cared a great deal for him, he knew she did. She might even be in love with him right now, for all he knew.

  He didn’t care if she had said “no past, no future, just now” before they’d made love, because Heather was not the type of woman who would have taken that momentous step without her heart being as willing and involved as her body.

  “Ah, hell,” Mack said out loud, dragging his free hand across his beard-roughened jaw.

  Why was he doing this to himself? Why torture himself with the belief that Heather would—yes, damn it, she would—agree to be his wife if he was a man who would make a decent husband? He was just pouring salt in his raw, emotional wound, and enough was enough.

  Mack turned his head on the pillow and saw that his clothes, including the scrub top from the hospital, were on the chair next to the bed. There was also a plastic cape of sorts that he guessed he was supposed to use to cover his huge bandage while he showered. A note had been placed on top of the pile and he shifted closer, grabbing it with his right hand.

  “‘We’ve gone to the grocery store,’” he read out loud. “‘Please be careful if you get out of bed. Back about one o’clock. Heather.’”

  Mack tossed back the blanket and sheet and eased himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed, gripping his injured shoulder as he moved. He groaned out loud since there was no one to hear him when the pain kicked up a notch in disapproval.

  Deciding he could pass for a hundred-year-old man, he retrieved his belongings from the chair and shuffled off to the bathroom. There he found a fresh towel and washcloth laid out for him, as well as a new disposable razor.

  “Tender lovin’ care, Marshall style,” he said quietly, running his hand over the fluffy towel.

  He had a decision to make, he thought, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He could leave Tucson as quickly as possible, put distance between himself and Heather, his dream, and attempt to get on with his life, such as it was.

  Or he could drag out his stay for as long as was feasible, gather more memories of Heather and the twins and tuck them safely away.

  What should he do? He didn’t have a clue.

  When Heather, Melissa and Emma entered the house shortly after one o’clock toting grocery sacks, they found Mack sitting on the sofa, dressed in dusty, blood-splattered slacks and the green scrub top. He was cleanly shaven and his hair was still damp. Maxine, the kitten, was curled up asleep on his right thigh.

  “Mack,” Heather said, stopping dead in her tracks and causing Melissa to bump into her from behind. “You’re not in bed.”

  “No, I’m baby-sitting this kitten,” he said. “The two of us are great pals already.”

  “Isn’t she cute, Uncle Mack?” Emma said. “Her name is Maxine ’cause you saved her and she’s my very own kitten. I thought she was gray, but I gave her a bath and she’s white.”

  “Yep,” he said, nodding.

  “Let’s get these groceries put away, girls,” Heather said, ignoring the racing tempo of her heart as she averted her gaze from Mack. “Uncle Mack is probably starving. I’ll make lunch.”

  “’Kay,” the twins said, then headed toward the kitchen with their sacks.

  “How…how are you feeling, Mack?” Heather said as she peered into the sack she was holding.

  “Not bad, considering,” he said. “Listen, Heather, I called the hotel where I was staying and talked to the manager on duty. I explained the situation and he’s going to pack my stuff from my room, put the suitcases in a taxi and send it over here. I need clean clothes and…well, I can leave for the airport from here. I hope that’s all right with you.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, still not looking at him. “I’m sure you’d like to get out of those slacks and that hospital smock. Yes, it’s fine that you did that, but…but you’re not planning on leaving Tucson yet, are you?”

  Oh, no, Mack, please, not yet, Heather thought frantically. She didn’t want to say goodbye so soon. She didn’t want to cry yet, not yet. But…but maybe he should go, because just looking at him, seeing him there in her home, was tearing her apart. She loved him so very much.

  “I haven’t decided exactly what the best plan of action is regarding leaving,” Mack said. Oh, man, there Heather stood a few feet away and it might as well be thousands of miles because he couldn’t reach for her, touch her, kiss her, declare his love for her. “I’m mulling it over.”

  “Mulling. Right.” Heather nodded. “I see. Well, I’ll go tend to this food, then make us all some lunch and…here I go, off to the kitchen to do that. ’Bye.”

  Mack frowned as he watched Heather hurry across the room and disappear from his view.

  Was she acting strangely? he thought. No, it was probably his imagination. Maybe he’d be able to think more clearly after he’d had some food. He was a starving man, no doubt about it.

  The sandwiches that Heather prepared were delicious and Mack ate two, along with some corn chips and fresh fruit. But despite having had the much-needed nourishment he was still a muddled mess and announced that he was going to stretch out on the bed and rest.

  “Will I disturb you if I work in there?” Heather said. “Susie is taking Buzzy and the girls to the park this afternoon. It’s rather crowded on Sunday when the weather is this nice, but it’s fun.”

  “I’m taking Maxine with me, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, “so you won’t have to baby-sit her while we’re gone.”

  “Oh, okay, Emma,” he said, smiling at her. He looked at Heather. “No, you won’t disturb me, Heather, if you work on the computer.” She disturbed him, caused his heart to ache for her, just by being Heather. “I don’t plan to sleep, just rest, that’s all.”

  “Well, then I guess we all have our afternoon planned,” Heather said, forcing a lightness to her voice that she definitely didn’t feel. “We’ll circle back later and meet at the ranch.”

  “Huh?” Melissa said. “What ranch?”

  Heather laughed. “It’s just a saying, Melissa. We won’t really meet at a ranch.”

  “It would be cool if we did,” Melissa said. “A ranch would have horses and cows and stuff.”

  “And lots and lots of icky chores,” Heather said, smiling at her.

  “Oh,” Melissa said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think we want to use the money from our dream piggy for a house on a ranch.”

  “What kind of home are you dreaming about, ladies?” Mack said. “You’ve never said much about it.”

  “One where we can each have our own bedroom,” Emma said. “I’ll share my room with Maxine.”

  “I want a big backyard to play ball in,” Melissa said. “Buzzy will come visit a whole bunch of times and we’ll have fun in that yard.”

  “And you, Heather?” Mack said.

  Heather plunked one elbow on the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

  “New,” she said, a dreamy expression on her face. “We’ll be the first family to live in it and everything will be sparkling clean, the
faucets won’t drip, the carpet will be stain free. Yes, a brand-new house. I don’t even care if it still smells like paint. We’ll plant a tree and watch it grow over the years and…” She sighed. “Someday, someday, someday we’ll have our new home.”

  Mack nodded. “I don’t doubt that for a second. Your dream will come true.” And his never would, no matter how much he wanted it. “That home will be filled with love and laughter and…” He stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m off to stretch out on the bed. Thank you for the delicious lunch.”

  Mack left the kitchen and as he crossed the living room a knock sounded at the front door. Melissa whizzed past him and flung open the door.

  “Delivery for Mack Marshall,” a man said. “I have suitcases here and a bill for driving my taxi clear from the other side of town.”

  Mack tended to the business at hand and a short time later was wearing clean slacks and a dress shirt. Having changed, he lay down on Heather’s bed, flung his right arm across his eyes and within minutes was asleep.

  Heather entered her bedroom and turned on the computer, the girls safely on their way to the promised outing in the park with Susie. As the computer was booting up, she moved to the edge of the bed and gazed at Mack, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  Yes, Mack, she thought, our dream house, our brand-new home, will be filled with love and laughter, but you won’t be there. There will be an empty space within those walls and an ache in my heart for all time. I love you so much and I wish to the heavens that I didn’t.

  She spun around as tears threatened and soon immersed herself in work.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Heather jerked in her chair at the sudden sound of Mack’s voice, then got to her feet and rushed to the side of the bed.

  “What can’t you do?” she said. “How can I help you, Mack?”

  “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he said, “but it’s probably just as well that I did. I need to talk to you, Heather.”

  He eased himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. Heather sat and looked at him questioningly.