Kitabı oku: «Her Secret Twins», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

The early-morning sun peeked through Grant’s broken window shades as he sat on his bed, staring at his laptop. He flipped through photo after photo, pausing on each one, trying to soak in each detail of the precious lives he’d missed.

Last night, he’d called Kallie and asked her to email over as many pictures as she could of the kids, from ultrasounds to this week. She surprised him by saying she already had most of them on a couple of flash drives. He swung by to pick them up, then sat and examined each one into the wee hours. He couldn’t bring himself to stop until he’d reached the last photo. And here he was, waking early to look at them again.

His kids. They were perfect. Beautiful. Amazing. His own flesh and blood. So many words and yet none of them quite did Peter and Ainsley justice.

The early pictures were mostly of the kids sleeping, wearing cute outfits that were too big for them. Hard not to be—they were so tiny. Even their skin was too big for them. All those wrinkled rolls on their skinny arms and legs. Grant chuckled, his heart bursting with fierce love and pride he hadn’t known was possible.

May 3 was their birthday. What had he been doing last year on that day?

Out of curiosity, he checked his calendar. He’d been preparing for a clinic, about to train a bunch of bird dogs and offer demonstrations in Kansas that coming weekend. Some of his favorite clients. He remembered that whole weekend pretty well, actually.

His kids had been coming into the world at that very moment. How crazy was that?

And how sad. The loss he felt over missing that day, that week in the hospital, and bringing them home ached inside his chest. He had no way of getting those days back. He’d tried to understand. Tried not worrying about it. What was done was done. But why had she kept them from him?

He had to make sure he made the most of every day from now on.

When he reached the final photo again, he shut down his computer and got up for the day. He padded to the kitchen and dug a plastic scoop into the large bag of dog food he’d leaned against a cabinet.

“Chief. Bella.”

The dogs scurried in from their sleeping spots in Grant’s room, each eagerly awaiting the food as he poured it into their bowls.

He put away the scoop, then reached for the to-do list he’d created last night before calling Kallie about the photos. There was a lot to get done, so he anticipated a very busy day spent contacting people.

At the cottage’s tiny, round kitchen table, he perused his list. Sign up for life insurance and name the kids as beneficiaries. Reroute more of his paycheck to his 401K. Contact Craig Preston, the president of the Helping Hands board, and discuss remote work options.

He paused on the final bulleted task—spend quality time with the kids.

Standing, he left his list on the table before heading out the front door. His stomach growling, he decided another thing to add to his list was to go into Bitter Creek and buy some food to stock his cupboards and fridge. Probably shouldn’t raid Kallie’s pantry all the time.

Chief and Bella were hot on his trail as he strode down the crude road connecting the cottage to Kallie’s place. It was really just two dirt tracks worn through the grass by truck tires. Every step filled his mind with memories of working here. Everything from driving the tractor to working dogs to racing over the prairie on a four-wheeler with Kallie sitting behind him, arms holding on tight.

That was where he stopped reminiscing.

Because memories like that couldn’t be welcomed anymore. Even though he was back at Bitter Creek Farm for the indefinite future, life wasn’t going to return to the way it was back then. His relationship with Kallie wasn’t coming back, and he had to learn to be okay with it. Sure, he thought he’d accepted that fact these past two years. But some of those feelings still lingered, and he needed to cut them off before they had a chance to blossom into something detrimental.

He stepped up to Kallie’s front door and opened it, placing a soft knock on the frame before entering. “Hello,” he called.

Ruby barked twice and hurried to meet him, tail wagging at an exponential speed once she discovered it was someone she recognized.

“Hey, friend.” Grant gave her a good rubdown. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

When he looked up, he realized Kallie sat at the kitchen table, head in hand, staring at a stack of papers. He waited a couple of seconds, but she didn’t move.

“Mornin’,” he said.

She popped to life, as if she hadn’t noticed him come in. “Oh, hi, sorry. I was just going over Dad’s bills.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Still sleeping.”

Grant glanced at the clock on the stove. “At eight in the morning?”

“I know, it’s weird. But I think they’re growing. They’ve been eating a ton and had a long nap yesterday afternoon, too, for Rachel.” She got up from her chair and stuck her coffee mug into the microwave.

After approaching the counter, Grant pulled down a mug of his own. He momentarily eyed hers as it turned in circles.

“Do you have to do that very often?” He motioned to the mug. “Reheat your coffee?”

She laughed. “A lot of moms do. I don’t even get a chance to make coffee most mornings, so…no, I guess not.”

He chuckled and filled his mug, then brought it to his lips. “Mmm, this is good.”

“Yeah, when you don’t make much of it, you can afford to buy the good stuff.”

“Well, prepare to buy the cheap stuff ’cause I drink a lot of coffee.”

Kallie’s smile faded, then Grant’s did, too. The microwave beeped, but she didn’t move to open it. Instead, she pushed off the counter and retrieved a plate she’d been using from the table. “Have you eaten? I’ve got some English muffins in here. Or eggs. Which would you prefer?”

“I’ll go light this morning and do a muffin. But I can get it myself.” She didn’t need to treat him like a guest if he was going to be sticking around. “I’ll buy you some more when I go to town today. That business I have to take care of while I’m there? It’s for Maxwell Thornton. Do you remember him from high school? He was in the grade above me.”

“His little sister was in my class. He’s still in town? I thought he moved away.”

“Well, I guess he’s back. And planning to build a guiding business for bird hunters.” Grant stuffed his English muffin into the toaster. “He reached out to me a couple of weeks ago, asking if I had any advice on getting the business up and running. He knew I’d worked with your dad and that his business had a solid reputation. I told him I was going to be passing through on my way to Wyoming, so I’d just stop by. Of course, that was before—”

Before Frank had passed away and Grant had learned the truth.

Kallie frowned. “When do you leave for the clinic?”

“I’m not anymore. It just isn’t a great time to be leaving the farm.”

Her frown deepened. “Is that going to be okay? Canceling like that? Do you have room to reschedule?”

He hesitated. “My schedule’s pretty open right now.”

“Why?”

“I canceled them all.”

Her brows shot up. “What? You’re kidding.”

“Look, I want to be here for my kids.”

“Grant…” she groaned. “How long are you planning on staying?”

“I told you. I’m not leaving.”

“You say that now, but life’s going to get in the way. Just watch.”

“Why do you assume that?”

“It happens to everyone who tastes freedom. Everyone who has left the farm for a time. Happened to my mom.”

“In case you forgot, Kallie, I just found out I was a father less than twenty-four hours ago. It’s not fair of you to assume what I will or won’t do regarding the kids. And come on. Give me a little credit. I’ll stay committed to them.”

“Well, you didn’t to me.”

Grant clamped his jaw shut. Sorry didn’t even begin to describe how he felt about the way he’d left. Just a month after his proposal, Grant was driving away from Bitter Creek with no plans of returning. It had been stupid, childish. The worst thing he’d ever done. He hadn’t known how to deal with anything hard in life.

“I made that mistake once,” he said, his voice quiet but strong. “I won’t make it again.” He’d hoped she would understand but by the wounded look in her eyes, she didn’t. “You’re just going to have to trust me, Kal.”

The toaster popped, so he lifted out his English muffin halves and dropped them onto a plate.

After a few more seconds of silence, Kallie cleared her throat. “So, down to business. If you’re going to be living here, then you’re going to have to help with the chores.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She paused for a moment, as if she’d expected more pushback from him. “Well, good.”

Grant took a seat across from Kallie and she immediately leaped from her chair like his muffin had from the toaster. She headed for the living room without a backward glance. “I can’t believe the kids aren’t awake. They never sleep this long. I’d better check on them.”

“Hold up a second.”

She stopped in the doorway and slowly turned back.

“I don’t want to fight with you all the time,” he said.

Maintaining eye contact, she exhaled, as if releasing tension that had been pent up since before he’d arrived. “I don’t, either.”

“Can’t we call a truce or something?”

It took her a long moment to answer, and he wondered what was going through her mind. She never had been much for communication. Which didn’t bother Grant, usually—except for when it came to discussing important issues. Like the one they were facing now.

If they weren’t going to meet their issues head-on, he’d at least see if they could agree to disagree, rather than watch Kallie sidestep the elephant in the room day after day. He only hoped he could draw out a discussion about their new situation piece by piece, over time.

“Okay,” she finally said, finding a faint smile. “A truce it is.”

He smiled, too, and hers widened. Man, it was a great smile.

She came back to the table and took a seat, then must have remembered her coffee because she got up to get it.

“I’m glad you brought up chores,” Grant began. “I want to split them with you. Sometimes I’ll do them, and other times you can. I want a couple of days a week to take care of the kids. To get to know them.”

He brought the mug to his mouth, watching her reaction. He could tell she didn’t love the idea but thankfully, she nodded. It’d be nice if he could better understand why she had an aversion to him getting involved with the kids. Maybe the truth would come out in time, and maybe he could eventually earn her trust.

“You said you were looking at your dad’s bills?”

“Yeah,” she said through a sigh, sinking back into her chair and flipping through a couple of pages. “He got a loan at the beginning of this year to pay for the crops. And his combine finally quit a couple summers ago, so he had to get another one. Not to mention all the medical bills.” She raised her eyes to meet Grant’s. “Dad’s savings was next to nothing, and all of these need to be paid off. I just feel all this pressure, like a dragon is breathing down my neck.” She rubbed her forehead with both hands and sighed again. “If we can’t pay for them, then we’ll have to use the estate to do it.”

“Now, hold your horses, Kal.” Grant sat up so he could lean closer. “I’m sure there’s something we can do. How much is the total owed?”

Kallie pointed to a number scribbled on some notebook paper.

Grant tried not to grimace. “Okay, well, it’s not as bad as it could be. What about his life insurance policy?”

“Didn’t have much. Like, hardly any. He never signed up for one until he found out he was sick.” Her expression clouded. “It covered his funeral expenses, but that’s about it.”

Not good. How sad that Frank had found himself in that situation. Grant couldn’t imagine leaving his kids with nothing. Good thing he was inquiring about his own insurance this week. “Don’t worry, Kallie. We’ll figure it out.”

Her shoulders stiffened, and he could almost visibly see the wall going up around her. “Thanks, but it doesn’t need to involve you.” She bunched all the papers into a tight pile and tapped them together on the table. “I’m the executor of the will, so it’s my responsibility.”

He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, debating on how much to say. It might legally be her responsibility, but it was half his estate, too. Not to mention their children’s inheritance one day. Finally, he stood, sensing it was time to back off for a bit. “Okay, then. Did you hire a crew to do the spraying?”

“Yep.” She didn’t look up—kept her gaze fixed on the numbers.

Nodding, Grant headed for the door, his English muffin in hand. “I’m going out to check the fields, then. See what the crew’s plans are. I’ll be back in a few hours to say hi to the kids.”

He glanced behind him, but it was almost like she hadn’t heard him get up. Shaking his head, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the sunlight.

Kallie Shore wasn’t used to sharing responsibility. And honestly, why would she be? For two years, she’d been taking care of her dad, the farm and then the twins to boot. But who was caring for her?

Times were changing. She now had a partner in all of this, if only she would realize it.

Kallie took the front steps and headed across the turnaround, zeroing her sights in on the barn. It was naptime, and so with the baby monitor clipped to her pocket, it was time to get some work done.

That work today included starting a garden.

This morning, after she’d figured all of Dad’s remaining expenses, she’d lined up all the bills according to size. The best way to build momentum, she figured, was to attack each bill one at a time, smallest to largest. Then she’d jumped on the computer to pay a couple of the really small ones with Dad’s savings account.

Now, she was planning out her long game.

There were the crops from her fields, of course, and those would bring in the most money, but not until late in the summer. Until then, she needed other moneymaking options. One of those would be a domestic garden, which she could then harvest for the summer’s farmers market in Bitter Creek every Saturday.

And before the garden’s harvest was ready, she would bake goods to sell there.

It wasn’t going to bring in a ton of money, but it was something. And right now, she’d welcome just about any something that came along.

In the barn, she dug through equipment until she reached the tiller. Covered in dust, the dinosaur of a machine hadn’t been used since the last time she had a garden—at least two years ago, but possibly three. Now was the time to resurrect the task.

After maneuvering it out of the barn, she pushed the tiller across the turnaround to the large plat where the garden was located. A tall fence surrounded it to keep out animals, and the gate was just wide enough to bring the tiller inside. Working one of these things wasn’t easy, and she’d gone soft a little since the kids were born, but if she didn’t do it, she’d have to wait and ask Grant to do it whenever he popped back into the house to see the kids.

And she wasn’t ready to ask for his help unless she absolutely needed it.

Was it the independent spirit that pushed her to do it on her own? Probably. And the fact that she’d managed the farming business, her dad and two children before this. If she’d lived through that just fine, she could handle a tiller.

Once positioned, she pulled the cord to start it. Nothing happened.

She pulled the cord again. Still nothing.

After some fiddling, it finally jolted to life. Grasping the handles with both hands, she started down one side of the hard, packed earth, turning the soil until it was workable and soft.

The power of the machine’s blade pulled it along and rocked the machine as it dug into the ground. Gritting her teeth, Kallie tightened her grip and pushed it forward, willing it to continue the path rather than veer off on its own. The longer she tilled, the softer the ground became beneath her feet and the harder it was to remain steady. Her feet shifted with every step, and her back muscles began to scream at the strain.

Only halfway through, she thought she heard something high-pitched over the grind of the machine’s motor. She turned it off, and yep, as the tiller’s growl faded away, Ainsley’s distinct cry sounded over her baby monitor.

So much for finishing the garden now.

She glanced at the gray clouds hovering in the sky, laden with rain. She didn’t know when it would hit, but it sure would be nice to get the garden tilled beforehand. It’d be even nicer to get some of it planted, but that was a wistful dream if she’d ever heard of one.

Leaving the tiller, she headed back to the house.

After getting the kids up, she brought them downstairs to feed them lunch—mashed green beans and cooked sweet potatoes she had on hand in the fridge.

A sudden, distant whir of a motor caught her attention.

“Oh no,” she mumbled, heading to the window. She looked out in the direction of the garden, and sure enough, there was Grant. Manhandling that tiller across the rest of the unturned soil. She sighed.

The kids were done eating, so she hoisted them from their chairs and took off across the lawn, a baby on each hip.

The sun, higher now, heated the back of her neck and arms as she approached the high fence. “Grant!” she called, hoping he’d hear her over the tiller.

He glanced at her but continued to turn the soil.

She scrunched her nose. “Grant!”

Peter fussed a little, the noise seeming to bother him. That or the sun—she shouldn’t keep the babies out here too long without hats or sunscreen. If only he would stop long enough to listen to her.

Finally, he must have realized she wasn’t leaving and cut the tiller’s power. He raised his gaze to meet hers.

“I was working on that,” she said.

“Yep. And I’m finishing it.”

“I was coming back this afternoon.”

Grant motioned to the sky. “It’ll probably rain by then. Best to get it done now.”

Her stomach knotted with guilt. The last thing she’d wanted was to create work for Grant to do. This was her project, her way of helping save Bitter Creek Farm. He wasn’t her personal handyman or a hired employee to finish all of her projects for her.

Though, as Grant started up the tiller again and worked his way toward the remaining stretch of dirt, sweat glistening on his neck and seeping through his gray T-shirt, she couldn’t ignore the rush of appreciation in her heart. As much as she hated to admit it, it probably would have taken her all afternoon to finish the garden. Time she didn’t have, given the impending rainstorm. She definitely had the grit and capability to do it on her own, but a little help from a friend could be welcomed.

And she knew the perfect way to say thank you.

Peter began to fuss again, so she left Grant to the task and took the kids inside.

After she got them interested in some toys on the kitchen floor, she went about collecting supplies to make an apple pie—Grant’s favorite dessert. She worked quickly to get it in the oven before Grant finished the garden. And as she finally slipped the pie pan into the preheated oven, the slow rumble of thunder passed over the house.

As she cleaned up the baking supplies and put everything away, she heard Grant cut the tiller’s motor. With a glance out the window, Kallie spotted him hauling the machine out of the garden through the gate and then pushing it back to the barn.

More thunder reverberated overhead. Then, the rain came.

The soft patter on the roof of her little home picked up speed, splattering the windowpanes and siding with a steady flow. When Grant emerged from the barn at a run, Kallie hastened to the laundry room just off the kitchen. She yanked a towel from the dryer and darted back to the kitchen as the door opened.

Water soaked Grant’s T-shirt and dripped from his hair sticking out from under his ball cap. He met her gaze with an invigorated spark in his eyes and reached for her towel, arms slicked with rain.

“Thanks.” He pulled off his cap and tossed it on the nearby counter before scrubbing the towel against his face and arms.

“I still have some of Dad’s hooded sweatshirts if you’d like something dry to wear.”

“Sure.”

Kallie returned to the laundry room and pulled down a box she’d stored on one of the top shelves, full of Dad’s old clothing—the stuff she knew he’d loved. She just hadn’t had the heart to get rid of those things. A black hooded sweatshirt lay not too deep in the pile, so she pulled it out and brought it to Grant.

He shot her a look of gratitude as he exchanged the towel for the shirt, then headed off for the bathroom.

Ainsley squealed, holding up a bright blue nesting cup she’d successfully pulled out of a purple one.

“Look at you!” Kallie crouched beside her daughter, drinking in her pure sense of accomplishment. “You did it.” Gathering some of the cups around her, Kallie slid them into each other and handed them to Ainsley. “So many!”

Giggling, Ainsley grabbed the stacked cups in one pudgy hand, then swiftly turned them upside down, scattering every colored cup across the linoleum. A hardy laugh burst forth from both kids.

“So, I was wonderin’ something,” Grant said, stepping into the room.

Kallie looked up and stared. Grant looked back at her, Dad’s sweatshirt fitting him rather well, and a fresh wave of pain collided with the wall she’d built around her heart. A tsunami of bitter sadness and confusion for why her father, of all people, had been struck down by that horrible disease.

Grant looked down at his shirt and cleared his throat. “It really stinks that he’s gone.”

She sniffed. “Yeah.”

“I miss him, too.”

“I know you do.”

Grant came in and sat down on the floor next to her, watching the kids play. “I remember once, when I first started working here, he took me out to walk the fields to give the dogs a chance to run. He talked about the loyalty of dogs. It doesn’t matter what kind of day you’ve had or what’s going wrong in your life. Your dog is always right there, ready to offer comfort. That’s why they’re called man’s best friend. But even more powerful is God’s loyalty. Frank was quick to remind me of that. He told me God could offer more comfort than any dog ever could.”

Kallie nodded. “He told me that a lot, too. That, and warned me not to be a hermit all of my life.”

Grant chuckled. “Yeah, you could probably hide away for months without coming up for air.”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you think he left me on the will for a reason?”

The question caught Kallie off guard. The thought had circled into her mind on brief occasions before she’d pushed it away, refusing to consider it. But yeah, what if Dad had left Grant in the will on purpose? What would have been his reasoning? Just so the kids would know their father? Or was there a deeper motivation than that?

Kallie shook her head. “I don’t know, Grant. It’s impossible to say now.”

“Did you know I was still in the will?”

“No, I didn’t.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Grant shifted his sitting position. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad he did. I’m really enjoying getting to know the kids.”

She eyed him. “It’s only been a day. You stay long enough and I make you do enough farmwork, you might just be singing a different tune.”

“Hey, I voluntarily did today’s farmwork. And if I could master the tiller, I think I could master most things thrown at me.”

Kallie looked away. Time for a change of subject. Conversations like this were good, but if they lasted too long, they deepened to levels she wasn’t interested in exploring. “What were you going to say when you first came in? You were wondering something?”

“Oh. Yeah, I was going to tell you I saw Maxwell Thornton today.”

“How does his outfit look? His business?”

“Good. I was able to give him a couple of ideas he hadn’t thought of yet, and he invited me to come out once the season started.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yeah. Anyway, he invited me to his house Sunday night for a birthday thing he’s doing for his wife. Said you could come too if you wanted.” He angled his head to catch her gaze. “Do you wanna go with me?”

She hesitated. Seemed like an odd way to phrase the situation. Depending on how someone took it, Grant could’ve meant he’d asked Maxwell if she could come. Or Maxwell could have invited her of his own accord.

“I’m guessing kids can’t go,” she said.

“Why don’t we see if Rachel will watch them?” He smiled. “Come on. When was the last time you had a night out without the kids? Ever?”

He was right—she’d never had a night out since the kids were born. Occasionally she’d asked Rachel to watch them, and that had only been so she could get something else accomplished—like clean the employee’s cabin, or meet with Grant about the terms of Dad’s will.

It was a night out with Grant, but it would also be with other people. So maybe it wouldn’t be an awkward thing.

“Sure, why not? Sounds fun.” She offered a tentative smile.

“Great. And by the way…” Grant sniffed. “Something smells an awful lot like an apple pie. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Consider it a thank-you for your hard work on the garden today. And for nearly drowning in the gullywasher afterward.”

He broke into a grin, a dimple marking one cheek. “Got any more chores for me to do? I could get used to this kind of gratitude.”

Biting back a laugh, Kallie gave his arm a little shove and got to her feet to check the pie.

She glanced back at him as the oven’s timer rang out, announcing that the pie was ready. He’d turned his attention to stacking cups with the kids. Earlier, while watching him till the land, she had referred to him in her mind as a friend. And a part of her really missed him as such. Did she dare actually think of him in that way on a more permanent basis?

Maybe Sunday night would give her an answer.

In the nursery, Grant looked about as natural as a horse in a henhouse. But for it being the first time he’d attempted a bedtime routine with babies, he was being a real trouper.

Kallie knelt beside him on the carpeted floor, slipping Ainsley into a fresh pair of footed pajamas after the kids’ bath. She couldn’t help but glance at Grant’s clumsy efforts to put pajamas on Peter, too, while feeling her heart bubble with new respect.

Tonight, he’d fumbled his way through what she was pretty sure was his first diaper change ever. He’d been given a crash course in drawing bathwater and washing hair. And the way he’d played with the kids, like he’d known them for forever?

It was like she wasn’t even looking at the same man she’d known a couple years ago. Back then, he’d been young and a little wild, with a head full of big plans. Nothing could tie him down. Had he possibly changed since then?

“You’ve really hung in there tonight, Grant. Wrangling these peanuts isn’t easy.”

He caught her eye, the warm glint there unraveling something inside her. “You seem to have it under control.”

She chuckled, zipping Ainsley’s pink fuzzy jammies up over her bulging baby belly. “You’re being very gracious—but thank you.”

“I can tell you run a tight ship. That’s to be commended.” He rolled Peter back toward him as the boy tried to make a break for it.

Kallie grabbed a stuffed animal from a toy bin beside her. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He handed it over and Peter finally stilled, interested in grabbing the animal’s fuzzy ears. “By the way, what’s up with these pj’s?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the zipper’s upside down.”

Kallie fought a smile. “They zip from the top down—so you can change a diaper without taking the pajamas all the way off. I don’t have very many of them, but the ones I have are lifesavers.”

“Huh.” Grant raised his brows at the pajamas with what looked like new appreciation. “The things they’ve come up with.”

“I know. They’ve solved problems I didn’t even know existed until I experienced them.”

Peter tossed his stuffed animal, the toy landing on Ainsley, who scrambled to get up.

“Nice throw, mister.” Kallie reached for the animal, only to collide her hand with Grant’s, who’d reached for it, too.

He withdrew his hand quickly, animal in his grasp. The soft smile he sent her warmed Kallie clear to her toes.

She lifted Ainsley to put her in her crib and Grant followed close behind. Kallie kissed each child good-night, and Grant actually managed to make each of them laugh before they turned off the light and left the room.