She didn’t have to finish the thought—he knew about the tensions between Nora and Dina. Nora had only ever visited for a few days at a time, and he knew that her stay in Hope would wear thin sooner or later. There had been a reason why she’d stayed away, and these babies didn’t change the underlying problem.
“You won’t be here for long, will you?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she admitted. “I only have twelve weeks parental leave and I’ll have to go back to my life in the city sooner or later.”
“Okay.” He wished his voice sounded more casual than it did, but he could hear the tension in it. He cleared his throat.
“Easton, I’m a grown woman.”
“I know.” He was painfully aware of that fact. “I just wanted to know what to expect. Thanks for telling me.”
It suddenly occurred to him: she’d probably been counting on this house for when she did come back to stay. That would explain why she was so upset—her dad gave away her safety net. He didn’t know how she planned to make this work with the babies, with the ranch, with her mom...but the old homestead would have been a convenient answer. Except he now owned the solution to her complicated situation, and he couldn’t help but feel mildly guilty about that.
“I don’t have a whole lot of options here in Hope,” she said.
Her self-pity was irritating, though. She had actually expected to waltz back into a life here at the ranch—at her convenience, not anyone else’s.
“Not a lot of options?” He shot her an incredulous look. “You’re the sole heir of six hundred acres. You have a university degree. Seriously, Nora. You’re spoiled. You have every privilege and you don’t even see it.”
She blinked. “Did you just call me spoiled?”
Yeah, he had. If he was a little better rested, he might have rethought that one, but it was the truth. She always had been—her dad had mollycoddled her from the start. Nothing was too good for his little girl.
“Figure out what you’re going to do,” Easton said. “And for the record, I’m not pushing you out. I’m just not feeling as sorry for you as you’d like.”
This was the thing—life was hard for everyone, not just Nora. In fact, life was arguably harder for pretty much everyone else. He could appreciate the position she was in, but she wasn’t as stuck as she seemed to think.
“I didn’t ask for your pity,” she snapped. “And I will figure it out, but I’m not in any position to make promises about how long I’ll be here.”
Well, Easton wasn’t in a position to make promises, either, and he had his own complications to sort out, without the benefit of a massive inheritance to come or a university degree to bolster him up. Cliff had left him this house for a reason, but the older man wasn’t much of a talker. He’d told him that having someone living in the place full-time, someone with a stake in it, would take a load off his shoulders. Easton had even been considering renting the place from his boss, and then Cliff had passed away.
If he’d been a renter, would it still have been this awkward? Easton needed a few answers of his own if he was going to be able to go on living here, making a life out of this once-in-a-lifetime gift. He needed to know why Cliff Carpenter had given him this small patch of land, and ease his nagging conscience.
Chapter Five
The days here on the ranch were bleeding into each other. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant feedings and diapers, but Nora was getting to the point where she wasn’t even sure what day it was anymore. She’d had to check the date on her cell phone to be sure—it had been a full week now since she’d arrived. She had a doctor’s appointment for the babies that she couldn’t miss. She wasn’t used to the blur of motherhood. It was exhausting in a whole different way than she was used to—no breaks, no turning off. At least in her bookkeeping job she could leave the office and turn off her phone. She could have silence, a bubble bath, let her mind wander. But with the babies, she was on constant alert, listening for cries or thinking ahead to feedings...
The last few days, she and Easton had been on egg shells. He’d been out a lot, checking fences and cattle—more than was necessary, it seemed to her. And she’d been trying to stay as polite as possible, to keep her intrusion to a minimum. This wasn’t going to last, and one of these days, she had a feeling one of them was going to snap again.
Today Nora could use another nap—the only way she seemed to get sleep these days—and she was about to try to lie down for ten minutes when her cell phone rang. She seriously considered ignoring it, but when she saw the name on her screen, she relented. It was Kaitlyn Mason, her oldest friend.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were in town?” Kaitlyn asked when she picked up.
“It’s complicated...” Nora confessed.
“Yeah, so I heard. Even more reason for a friend, right? You need coffee. I’m sure of it. And you need to vent.”
“And you need to tell me about married life,” Nora added. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding. It’s been like two years. Wow.”
“See?” Nora could hear the smile in Kaitlyn’s voice. “It’s an absolute necessity. Now, do I come to you, or do we meet up in town?”
It would be nice to get out alone, if that was possible. Was it? Or was that selfish, like Easton has accused her of? Just then Riley started to whimper—very likely a wet diaper. She poked a finger into the top and felt dampness. Yep, wet diaper. Was it wrong to want some time to herself this badly? And was it normal to feel guilty about it?
“I’m going to call my mom and see if she can watch the babies,” Nora said. “I’d love to get out to see you for a couple of hours—alone. I’ll call you back, okay?”
So Nora changed Riley’s diaper, and then Bobbie’s and Rosie’s, too. Then she dialed her mother. Dina agreed to look after the girls for a couple of hours, and Nora felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Still, she felt that same nagging guilt—not only because she was getting some time off, but also because her mother was going to be looking after Mia’s babies. Doing this alone was hard...really hard. And this was what grandmothers were for, right? Grandmas were on a whole different level than babysitters. If these weren’t Mia’s babies, but Nora’s own, she wouldn’t feel any guilt at all about having her mother babysit. Her own grandmother had watched her on a regular basis when she was young, and she’d treasured that relationship. Her grandma had played with her, told her stories and after a few hours together would look down into her face and say, “You are such a special girl, Nora.” The triplets deserved to have a grandma who thought they were special girls, too.
When Nora arrived at the main house a few minutes later, her mother helped her to unload the babies from their car seats and get them settled inside. They were awake by then, and three pairs of brown eyes stared up solemnly from their bouncy chairs. Dina squatted next to the babies, her expression melancholy.
“They’ve all been fed and changed,” Nora said. “Their next bottle is due at 2:30, but I find it helps to start about fifteen minutes early. I feed Rosie or Riley first and feed Bobbie last. She’s able to wait a little more patiently than the other two. Riley can’t stand a wet diaper, so if she cries, you can be pretty positive it’s that. If you change Riley, it’s a good idea to change the other two at the same time, otherwise it gets really overwhelming. Rosie is a snuggler, and she’d stay in your arms the whole time if you let her. I don’t like Bobbie to be neglected, though, just because she’s a little stronger—”
“Sweetheart.” Dina stood up and put a hand on Nora’s arm. “We’ll be okay.”
Would they? It wasn’t really the babies she was worried about; it was her mother. This couldn’t be an easy task for her. Dina regarded her with misty eyes. Suddenly, the strong, resilient woman who had strode through Nora’s life with an answer for everything looked fragile.
“Mom, are y
ou all right?”
Dina wiped an errant tear from her cheek.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Do they remind you—”
“No, no.” Dina shook her head. “I mean, of course they do, but it’s not that. It’s just that I remember knowing you that well, once upon a time. You liked being on my hip every waking hour, and you’d toddle around in a wet diaper for hours. You hated being changed.”
“I grew up,” Nora said with a small smile. “It happens to the best of us.”
“I know, but I could make anything better for you back then. I can’t anymore.” Dina sighed. “And while you grew up, I never stopped being your mom.”
There had been a time when her mother had been able to predict every passing mood that Nora had, but that was in the days of strawberry-picking and whipped cream. If she raised these girls, would they drift away one day, too? Would she lose this ability to make things right for them?
Nora was tired, overwhelmed. She hadn’t slept properly since the babies arrived almost two weeks ago, and every waking moment was taken up with diapers and bottles, crying and soothing...all times three.
“Mom, you doing this—taking care of the babies for a couple of hours—this is just what I need right now. And I really appreciate it.”
And she meant that with every fiber of her being.
“Well.” Dina cast her daughter a smile. “I’m glad.”
Nora adjusted her purse on her shoulder and looked down at the babies. “I’ve been thinking about it lately... And I’m not sure that I’ll be able to, but I want to keep these girls. And if I would be Mom to them, that will make you their grandmother...sort of. Right?”
Dina winced and swallowed hard. “I’m not their grandmother. Angela Hampton is their grandmother.”
“Angela’s dead,” Nora replied. “And so is Mia.”
“We’re the other family.” Dina’s eyes glittered with tears. “It’s not the same. I know you love them, sweetheart, but it’s not the same at all.”
If they were looking for the same, they could stop searching. Nothing would be the same again—Nora’s father was gone, and his memory was tarnished. The security she’d had in her parents’ marriage had been whipped out from under her. That was the thing—she was just recognizing it now: her father’s affair had taken away her ability to trust. If she couldn’t trust her own father, how could she trust anyone? Even an old friend like Easton suddenly became suspect.
“No, it’s not the same as if I were the natural mother, but we’re all the babies have,” Nora countered.
“You’re not the one who was cheated on,” her mother replied. “It’s easier for you. These girls are the grandchildren of the woman who slept with my husband behind my back. They belong to your idiot father and that woman—together. And I’m left out of that.”
Did her mother think that Nora was unaffected by her father’s infidelity? She’d been affected—very deeply—but she also had three innocent babies looking to her for love and comfort. She’d been thrown into the deep end of motherhood, and she didn’t get the luxury of sifting through her feelings.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she retorted. “My dad cheated on my mom. That’s not pretty. That’s not pleasant. I had a half sister I never knew—a half sister I shouldn’t have had. My role model for what to look for in a husband of my own turned out to be the wrong kind of man.”
“I’m just suggesting that you think it through,” her mother said, her tone tense. “Because I’m not Grandma. I can’t be.”
That felt like a rejection to Nora—of the babies, but also of her. “You actually could,” Nora replied, emotion catching her throat. “If you chose to be. You’re my mother.”
“I can’t...” Her mother shook her head, sorrow shining through her eyes.
Nora could see the truth in her mother’s words. This wasn’t about what should be or what could be...this was about what her mother could give and what she couldn’t. She’d had her heart broken twice—first by her husband’s death, and then by the revelation that he hadn’t been faithful. Dina couldn’t be the grandmother Nora needed her to be. She couldn’t look down into these girls’ faces and tell them how special they were...
“I’ll cancel with Kaitlyn,” Nora said.
“For crying out loud, Nora, I’m not a monster.” Her mother tugged a hand through her hair in exasperation. “I can babysit.”
Nora met her mother’s misty gaze. Right now all Nora wanted was for her mother to become that strong, resilient font of all answers again. She wanted to hear her mother say that everything would be all right, and that they’d figure this out together. But that wasn’t going to happen, because everything would not be all right. Everything was broken.
“Thanks, Mom,” Nora said past the lump in her throat. “I won’t be more than a couple of hours.”
Nora shut the door and headed out to her truck. She’d come home because she couldn’t imagine doing this alone, but it didn’t look like she’d have much option. If she kept these babies, she’d be a single mom in every way.
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON WHEN Easton came back to the house for a coffee, he found a note on the fridge from Nora saying that she’d gone out for a few hours. It was strange, because coming back to the empty house had been all he’d wanted lately—to get back to normal—but it felt lonely, too. He’d started getting used to having her around, was almost tempted to call out “I’m home!” when he got back from working in the fields.
When he’d gotten back to the house after their argument, they’d both apologized for being too harsh and agreed that being both overtired and under the same roof was stressful for the both of them. So he’d been trying to be a more gracious host. He wasn’t sure if it was working or not, because Nora was almost too nice to him lately, too—like someone who didn’t know him well enough to be straight with him. And they had enough history to make that flat-out wrong. Regardless, there had been no more fights.
That afternoon he’d ridden out to the north field to check on the bulls, and on the way, he’d talked to Scarlet about the whole situation. Except that talking to Scarlet only made him realize all the things he wanted to say to Nora—if they weren’t in the middle of this politeness standoff, that is.
Cliff had advised him to find a nice girl, and maybe he should do that. This time with Nora could be used to get her out of his system, and then he should look around next time he was at church and start thinking more seriously about filling up this house with a family of his own. Playing house wasn’t going to suffice.
Easton had an hour or so before he needed to head out to the barn and check up on a sick cow, and without Nora here, he had a chance to do something he’d put off for too long. He gulped back some coffee then headed up the narrow staircase to the top floor. He paused, looking up at the attic door in the ceiling above.
Easton had seen a couple of boxes in the attic when he’d moved in. When he’d peeked inside, they looked like Cliff’s things so he’d let them be. Maybe it was grief, or he’d simply been too tired to deal with the boxes then, but now that Nora had made him question why Cliff had left him the house, he’d been thinking about those boxes again. Maybe there’d be a few answers. And maybe not. Cliff had left these boxes in the homestead for a reason, and Easton suspected it was because he hadn’t wanted his wife and daughter to know about them.
He pulled on the cord, and the attic stairs swung slowly down. He unfolded them and they hit the wooden floor with a solid thunk. He climbed the narrow steps and ducked as he emerged into the A-frame room above. A single bulb hung nearby, and he clicked it on.
The attic was dusty but otherwise clean. An old single-width metal bed frame leaned against one side, half-rusted. A couple of cardboard liquor boxes were stacked next to it, and beside them some rat traps which were, thankfu
lly, empty. There wasn’t much else up here—probably cleaned out when the original owners died. He loved the feel of the attic—the warped panes of glass in the two square windows at either end of the room, the knot holes in the floorboards and the sense of lives lived for decade upon decade in this old house.
Easton had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the slanted roof, and he pulled the first box toward him and squatted next to it. He opened the flaps and peered inside. He found a worn denim jacket, a pair of old cowboy boots, a chipped coffee mug—nothing that looked terribly precious. Underneath the boots was nestled an old manila envelope. He took it out.
The envelope hadn’t been sealed. Inside were what appeared to be a few old letters and a handful of photos. Easton sorted through the photos first. One was of a newborn, all bundled up, the date September 12, 1988 written on the bottom next to Mia’s full name: Mia Alexandra Sophia Hampton. Angela hadn’t used the Carpenter name for their daughter. There were a few pictures of a blonde toddler with her brown-haired mother. Angela was rounded, with a full bust and ample hips. She was attractive enough, and Easton paused, looking at the photo, trying to imagine Cliff Carpenter with this woman. Angela wore a little too much makeup for Easton’s taste, but he could see her love for the little girl in her arms, and that was what mattered. A few years of photos seemed to be missing, and then a school picture of Mia as a blonde little girl with braces and freckles, and then as a teenager without braces. Mia had been quite lovely. Next was a snapshot of her as a young woman in front of a Route 66 sign, squinting into the sunlight. She had her mother’s full bust and ample hips, but her face looked more like the Carpenters. There was something in her sparkling blue eyes that reminded him of Nora.
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