The Housekeeper's Daughter

by Palmer, Dee

  “That I can do. I feel exhausted, and I’ve only been awake for an hour tops.” I try to brush off my concern with a lighter tone. The unspoken worry is like a thick fog in the room and adding to that isn’t going to help the situation. The doctor is right; it’s early days.

  “Listen to your body, it knows what it needs. I will be back tomorrow after your scans.” He briskly leaves the room, and the nurse is quick to follow.

  I have so much information crowding my head I don’t know how to start processing.

  “Baby, listen to the doctor; you need to sleep.” Atticus’s hand sweeps a line around my face, and he kisses my forehead. My lids are too heavy and they close with the blissful feeling of the tender contact.

  “Close your eyes, T. We’ll be here when you wake, always.” Logan bends down and kisses my lips, soft and sure and so filled with love my eyes wells with tears. I can’t keep them waiting; it isn’t fair.

  “Logan, Atticus… I can have a test to see who the father is—”

  “That’s not important.” Logan states and Atticus repeats the sentiment with a decisive shake of his head.

  “It’s not?”

  “It’s not what’s important right now. The only thing that concerns us both is getting you better and getting you home, my home,” Atticus insists and Logan throws a light but equally firm punch across the bed, hitting Atticus on his shoulder.

  “My home but we’ll argue that one later. First things first young lady…you need to sleep.”

  “I don’t understand, why isn’t she walking yet? The last scan was fucking perfect.”

  “Language, Mr Kruse, this is still a hospital.” The curt hushed reprimand rouses me from my nap. After I woke from the coma, I spent one week in intensive care. Every test possible was conducted, checked and double-checked, and I couldn’t bring myself to moan. I wanted to be absolutely sure we were all right, me and our babies, no mistakes. I was then transferred to a state of the art rehabilitation centre that Atticus found and I’ve been here for three months. I feel fighting fit, relatively speaking and the babies are healthy. I just haven’t managed to walk or stand or even move my legs.

  I can hear Atticus’s frustration, and I echo the sentiment. I can wiggle my toes, feel every pinprick the doctor runs up the length of my legs on a daily basis, and I can certainly feel every stroke of the strong hands that help me with my twice-daily physio sessions. I must have had a hundred scans and they have all come back with no damage to my spine and no physical reason as to why I can’t move from the waist down.

  “It will take time. There is nothing physically wrong that we can detect but the spine is a complex system. You have to be patient.” The doctor explains.

  “Is there anything else we can be doing? What about hydrotherapy?”

  “As soon as her cast comes off, yes I would recommend starting hydrotherapy.”

  “And when is that?”

  “On Friday, and you can stop whisper shouting, and you can stop being cross with the doctor for that matter. It’s not his fault I’m broken,” I yell out and start to shift myself into a sitting position. I never used to have much upper body strength, but after heaving my body this way and that for three months, I think I could challenge Mike Tyson to an arm wrestle and not embarrass myself.

  “You’re not broken, well, a little broken but not completely.” Atticus leaves the doctor with a brief shake of his hand and is at my side, needlessly assisting in the last few adjustments to me sitting upright.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I doubt that.” He wiggles his brow playfully, and I almost crack a genuine smile.

  “It’s all in my head. I’m so fucking frustrated, Cass.” My eyes prickle with tears, and I fight them spilling, squeezing the lids tight.

  “I know, Tia. I know.” Atticus moves to wrap his arms around me. It’s awkward but welcome. I hold him tight, and his broad shoulders and strong arms envelop me, and I sink into their comfort. I can hear the steady thump-thump of his heart and relish the tender kisses he is sporadically bestowing on my hair.

  “Where’s Logan?”

  “I moved my stuff over to his place, but it’s all stacked up in the hall. He’s clearing out the guest room.” I pull back and tilt my head with a silent query, and my brow wrinkles with my obvious confusion. “We’ve talked to your consultant, Mr Jones, and he’s letting us take you home.”

  “Really?”

  “We’ve been taking care of you most of the time.”

  I hate that I am so helpless but I can honestly say they never make me feel like any sort of burden, even with the toilet trips, which were mortifying to begin with. After about a week, I stopped blushing every time I need to go, and after two weeks, I stopped worrying. “We actually think you’ll do better at home.”

  “You agreed to move into Logan’s house?

  “He’s had a water well installed in the conservatory and although my building has a pool, it isn’t private. Besides, once Tartarus is renovated we’ll all be living there so I thought I’d give him a few months at his place.”

  “We’ll all be living at Tartarus?”

  “Yes,” Atticus states with absolute certainty. He pulls the covers back and scoops me into his arms. “Come on princess, time for round two of your exercises. You need to use the facilities first?”

  “I do, sorry.”

  “You’re sorry for needing to take a pee?”

  “No, you know what I mean.”

  “I really don’t and neither does Logan, so stop. We nearly lost you. After that, nothing is as important as having you any which way we can. Period.”

  “Period? You’re all American now, hmm?” I tease.

  “A throwback from college, but it’s apt because that is an end to the discussion, understand?”

  “Yes Sir.” I mock salute and get a tight flutter in my tummy when his eyes darken and he responds in a throaty voice.

  “Now that’s more like it.”

  Four Months Later

  “You can feel this?” Logan has one hand around my waist, holding me flush to his strong and nearly naked body. The warm water swirls around us as we are both pummelled with fierce jets of water while ‘walking’ on the treadmill on the floor of the water well. His other hand is stroking my thigh as my legs move with each step of his.

  “Oh god, yes. Please do that again.” I sigh and moan, dropping my head with a thump against his chest. I release my hold on the bar in front of me and slip my arm into the water, grabbing a meaty handful of his taut arse.

  “You’re not helping, Tia.” He moves his hips away, but I can still feel the stiffness of his cock against my backside. He wears swim shorts and I do the same but we may as well be naked for the sexual tension that accompanies each of these sessions.

  “And neither is this.” I splash the water with a dramatic slap of my hand on the surface, covering us both in a warm wave of water. I pull myself out of his hold, floating onto my back and letting the water and a large intake of air support me. My large belly sticks high above the water and I rest my head back on the cushion side of the well. It’s been four months since I moved back home, and despite the relentless physiotherapy schedule that both Logan and Atticus have implemented, I am no better. That’s not entirely accurate, the breaks in my bones have healed and the cuts and bruises have vanished. The babies are healthy, yet I still need to be carried everywhere. With my steady weight gain I can’t help thinking that Logan must be regretting the decision to move me into his three-story house.

  “Give yourself time, Tia, stop beating yourself up. You’ll walk when your body is ready.”

  “I’m ready Logan. I wanted to have the babies my own way. I thought I’d be walking by now. I feel fine.”

  “You feel better than fine.” Logan inches close, and I can feel his hands crawl up my legs to my hips.

  “Now who’s not helping?” The water makes it easy to shift around him, and he pulls my legs around his waist even if I
can’t keep them there. It feels almost normal for the short time they are locked in place.

  “I’m teasing, T, and before you jump to some crazy conclusion, yes, I want you, you can feel how much; however, we both want you better before we take the next step.” He rolls my hips against him, and I can feel every inch of how much he wants me.

  “The next step?”

  “The next step on from us sleeping together as we do now, with all the kisses and cuddles.” His throat bobs when he pauses and swallows. “What happens next, needs to be discussed for sure, but you have enough on your plate, that can wait.”

  “I get whiplash sometimes, from having zero sex drive to, well, I have two of the sexiest men on the planet sleeping naked on either side of me each night and—”

  “One of the sexiest,” Logan interrupts with a wry grin. “We’ll get there, T. There’s no rush. We have a lifetime.”

  “A lifetime for what?” Atticus steps into the room.

  “Fucking.” Logan replies.

  “God, you’re crass.”

  “I think you’ll find I’m to the point.”

  “Jesus, Logan, put some damn swim shorts on. I use that pool!”

  “I’ve got shorts on…this time,” Logan teases. “And lets not get precious over sharing a fitness pool when you’re more than happy to share this one’s sexy body.” He slides in behind me and cups my sizeable breasts. It’s a proprietary move to irritate Atticus, but it feels good all the same.

  “I never said I was happy. I said I accepted Tia’s decision.”

  “I didn’t make a decision.” I move Logan’s hands off my body and pull myself to the step.

  “Exactly.” Atticus responds.

  “Hand me the towel would you?” I stretch my arm out, but Logan has sloshed his way to me and has scooped my up into his arms.

  “Here, let me carry her, you’re going to break your neck trying to climb over the edge with her like that.” Atticus hold his arms out.

  “We’re fine, how do you think we normally manage?” Logan climbs the steps up and out of the pool.

  “I know you manage, it’s just better when we work together.” Atticus holds out a large fluffy towel.

  “Gay,” Logan retorts with a suppressed smile.

  “Oh, for fuck sake, here take the damn towel. I only came down to tell you lunch is ready.’

  “You made lunch?” I drop my mouth wide open in a mock surprise.

  “I’ve been teaching him the basics,” Logan explains, and I’m almost positive his tone holds a hint of affection. I can’t help myself when I respond.

  “Gay.”

  “How are you feeling?” Logan caresses my cheek.

  “Nervous. I really wanted to do this myself you know?” My voice catches, tears instantly spring to fill my eyes, and I curse the damn hormones for making me this emotional.

  “I know, baby.” Logan catches the first fall of tears on his thumb and sucks them into his mouth.

  “It’s the safest way, princess.” Atticus places a sweet kiss on the palm of my hand he is holding. He stares deeply into my eyes, and despite both of their reassurances, I can see he’s just as nervous.

  “It is, and hundreds of women have caesarean births, I just—” I suck in a stuttered breath and Atticus catches me before I fall.

  “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be here every step of the way.”

  “Good, I’m glad you’re here, both of you I mean.”

  “We know.” They are getting far too good at synchronised responses.

  “Right, Miss Parker, are we ready to meet your babies?” My nurse enters the room followed by two porters with a gurney.

  “Six weeks early, but yes, we’re ready.” I answer and try to calm the riot of butterflies raving in my tummy. I was never going to go full-term in my condition. Once I had accepted that, I knew a C-section was always going to be my only option. Still, I’m not a fan of the whole surgery thing.

  “Good, lets get you to the operating suite, and you two can go and get changed. We will see you in theatre.” She motions for Logan to move so the porters can bring the trolley alongside my bed.

  “Can’t we come with you?” He steps back and then he and Atticus move in to lift me onto gurney.

  “We will see you in the theatre.” She pulls the sidebars up once I am flat and levels a glare at my men that brooks no further discussion.

  “Fine,” they both reply, and I have to fight the urge to laugh at their matching petulant tone. I’m not sure who is rubbing off on whom, but they both look like naughty schoolboys being told off. They each lean to kiss me, tell me they love me, and in turn, they both make my heart swell and ache at the same time.

  “I think they are a little nervous too.” I explain to the nurse once they have finally left the room. She looks down at me and gives an understanding smile and gentle nod of her head.

  “That’s understandable, one of them gets to be a daddy today.”

  “Yes, one of them does.”

  I feel a little drowsy from the pre-med, but the adrenaline is fighting to keep me alert in spite of the numbing drugs. I don’t feel the incision but I do feel as if someone is wrestling with my innards. It’s not painful; it’s weird, a tugging, pulling sensation that makes me glad there is a screen up across my abdomen.

  “You’re doing so good, princess.” Atticus has his back to the action end and is focused on my face. They have a hand each but Logan keeps trying to peek over the screen.

  “This is really happening. I’m scared.” I puff out a deep breath, hoping to rid myself of the rocketing anxiety.

  “Everything is going to be okay.” Atticus kisses my knuckles.

  “I wish you’d stop making promises you can’t keep.”

  “I’m keeping this one,” he states emphatically.

  “Me too.” Logan’s head snaps back to face me, and with the certainty in his tone and Atticus’s intense stare, I find myself relaxing. I believe them.

  “What happens if they are mine, or yours for that matter?” Logan addresses Atticus, but I reply, incredulous at his timing.

  “Really, we’re doing this now?”

  “No time like the present. You said yourself this is really happening.” Logan shrugs, and my astonishment is compounded when Atticus engages in this surreal conversation.

  “It’s Tia’s choice.”

  “She didn’t make that decision when a knife was held to her. I don’t think she’s going to choose.”

  “I don’t think she will either. So where does that leave us?”

  “I’m right here guys; don’t I get a say?”

  “Are you going to choose?” Logan pauses and raises his brow, and his lips quirk, suppressing a knowing grin I bet.

  “Um…”

  “Exactly! Look, Atticus, we’ve both been through hell and back, but I’m in her life until she tells me she doesn’t want me. The same goes for the babies. I’ll either be the best father or the best uncle, end of scenarios. I’m not going anywhere other than standing right by her side.

  “I see.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I know you feel exactly the same,” Logan asserts, and Atticus lets out an easy laugh.

  “This is her decision.” Atticus squeezes my hand and looks from me to Logan.

  “I think we’re in this thing together,” Logan declares.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Look, we’re not gonna start braiding each other’s hair or anything like that, but you’re not the complete arsehole I thought you were. You love her, and I can’t fault you for that. I’d rather have a half of her than nothing, and that’s the only sacrifice I’m prepared to make when it comes to her.”

  “This isn’t what I had planned either, but I would’ve been out of the picture months ago if you hadn’t intervened with the Russians. You may not have liked me back then, but you knew that letting me die would’ve broken her heart.”

  “Who says I like you now?” Log
an sniffs.

  “Like you say, no hair braiding, but I have to admit you love her, maybe as much as I do…maybe…and you play a fair game of chess.”

  “Hate to break it to you, Cass, but chess isn’t even my game. Poker is my game.”

  “Is that so? Well, let’s take the game to Vegas when she’s better, and I’ll show you my poker face.”

  “Oh my god you guys.” I can feel the trickle of tears, and I swear my heart swells to the point of bursting. I’m about to try and express the inexpressible when there is this noise. Something other than the sound of their banter, surgical instruments and the hum of machines, something precious.

  A baby’s cry.

  “You have a little girl.” The doctor hands a tiny pink shiny body to a nurse who quickly wraps my baby in a waiting white sheet. After wiping the baby’s face, she brings her to me. I wish I could hold her. A tentative stroke of her puffy cheek is all I manage before she is whisked away for checks.

  “And a little boy!” the doctor announces. His tone is elated, but that’s nothing compared to the massive smiles on all our faces, tears streak my cheeks, and once more, I get the briefest chance to touch my baby.

  “Oh babe, you did so well. They are perfect!” Logan exhales the deepest breath in a rush of relief as if he has had it held in this whole time.

  “Can we hold them?” Atticus asks.

  “Of course, just as soon as they are checked over.” The doctor speaks but I can feel he is fixing whatever needs to be fixed behind the screen.

  “Okay, I guess we can wait.”

  “How are you princess?”

  “Happy, really fucking happy,” I gush, my eyes haven’t stopped streaming and my face aches from the stupid grin fixed wide across my face.

  “I don’t think you can say that now. I think you have to use some shit like fudge.” Logan teases.