Twins Under The Tree. Leigh Riker
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Luke,” she said, “and Grace. Didn’t you know?”
“I’m not a very good listener,” he admitted.
Jenna took a few more steps into the room. “I’m sure she left her baby name book on the shelf in her living room. There should be a list tucked inside with the names she liked most starred.”
“Grace,” he said, not looking at Jenna. “Luke. If you say that’s what she wanted, I don’t see why not. Lucas Smith is a good name for a guy, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she murmured, bending down and noting the babies’ fine features. They didn’t appear crumpled and wizened like many newborns’ faces, probably because they’d been cesarean deliveries. “And Grace sounds soft but strong,” she added.
Maybe the only thing they could agree on. Hadley raised his head to study her, and she forced herself to hold his gaze.
Jenna hesitated. She should turn away and go. Honoring her promise to Amy—not a legal issue now, but for Jenna, a moral one—would be equally difficult. Just as it was hard every time she walked into the Baby Things store on Main Street. The yearning she felt when she looked at the frilly miniature dresses and little shirts with adorable sports logos and cute short pants. They reminded her of her lifelong desire to have a family. Another of her shattered dreams.
She resisted the urge to stroke one finger along the babies’ cheeks, to feel their soft skin, smooth and warm. In this town if someone she knew wasn’t getting married, they were having a baby—like her own sister not long ago. It didn’t seem fair that Hadley, who’d never wanted kids, now had two of them, these perfect little humans who had just been born. Jenna chided herself for the unkind thought.
She stared at the twins and felt her heart break twice over. Jenna hadn’t forgotten her own childhood with a father who didn’t care. She knew firsthand how devastating that could be. Her father had fractured their family, and Jenna would not let that happen to anyone else. Her legal responsibility for these newborn babies was, as Hadley had said, void now. Yet with Amy gone, the children had no protection. Jenna had to set aside her own sadness for the sake of the twins.
She mentally squared her shoulders. “Amy begged me to make sure the twins have a safe, stable environment—”
“Something you think I can’t provide?”
“I didn’t say that. But I made a promise to Amy, so this is what I’m going to do now. I’ll visit the babies every week to see how they’re doing. And if I think you’re not taking good care of them, I will hold you accountable. I’ll do everything in my power to bring the matter up with the court.”
“So you could still become their standby guardian?” Hadley said. “I would never have signed off on that. I sure won’t now. Besides, you’d have to get in line behind Amy’s parents. I don’t envy you that.”
Jenna swallowed. “Do they know about her passing?”
He nodded. “We’ve never been on the best terms, but yeah, I called them. They’re on their way now.”
“And I will do whatever needs to be done.” Brave words, when instead she felt torn, even frightened by her own decision. Still. It was necessary.
Regardless of whether Hadley wanted her to be involved, now the twins were all that counted.
Luke and Grace, she thought, aching to reach out and take them from Hadley, to hold them and feel their sweet weight in her embrace. No matter how painful this might prove for Jenna, whose arms would always be empty, she kept her promises.
Four months later
“EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT TODAY?” After checking to make sure Jenna Moran’s car wasn’t parked out front, Hadley banged through the door at the McMann ranch. Jenna’s weekly visits to the twins irritated him. He didn’t like being under a microscope. Who was she to judge him? He was glad she wasn’t there tonight because he needed to speak to Clara, the widowed owner of the ranch, about their living situation.
Clara rushed into the hall carrying both twins. “Couldn’t be better,” she said, but her eyes didn’t meet his, and Hadley reminded himself, as he did most nights, that she wasn’t a young woman anymore. With graying dark hair and light brown eyes, Clara was still slim, even thin, and she must be worn out after all day tending to his babies. Yet she’d taken over their care without a qualm. In fact, it had been Clara’s suggestion for them to move in with her rather than return to the small apartment he’d shared with Amy. The only time Clara seemed flustered was when Jenna Moran came to the ranch, and only because Clara picked up on the tension between Jenna and Hadley.
“Got home soon as I could,” he said. “Had a cow run through some wire and need stitches. Sorry I’m late.”
“You aren’t, dear. We’ve been fine.” She glanced down at Gracie. “But she was a tad cranky this afternoon.”
Teething already? Hadley started to slip a finger in Gracie’s mouth to see if her gums were tender but thought better of it. He’d washed up at the NLS ranch, where he worked, but he doubted his hands were clean enough.
When he’d lived with Amy, Hadley used to take the long way home. Now and then he’d stop at Rowdy’s, the only bar in town, for one beer before he continued on to the apartment. By the time he got there, Amy would have that look in her eyes that seemed to beg him to love her. “It’s not in me,” he’d told her a million times, yet she’d always chosen to believe he could change. Would it have killed him to let her think he really loved her before she died having his babies? They were his daily reminder of the wrong he’d done Amy.
He was also being unfair now to Clara, the kindest person he knew. Hadley owed her, not the other way around. In his teens the McManns had become his last foster parents, and he’d spent several years on their midsize ranch, learning to cowboy from Clara’s husband, Cliff. He’d also learned to be a man—as much as he ever would be, considering his beginnings. By eighteen he’d been on his own, but no other place had ever felt the same, so finally Hadley had come back to Barren. A few years later he’d met Amy, married her, and he was still here, though he got twitchy whenever he stayed anywhere too long.
Hadley’s talk with Clara had to wait until the twins finally fell asleep—at the same time, for once. He and Clara stood by their crib, which the babies shared, just gazing at them. Both twins had their thumbs in their mouths, and their eyes were closed with that expression of utter peace on their faces that always caught at his heart. Hadley laid a hand on each little chest.
“You don’t have to check every night,” Clara said with a knowing smile. “They’re healthy as can be and ready to make more energy for tomorrow.”
She often seemed to sense what he was thinking. Maybe it was neurotic of him to test their breathing, but he couldn’t help himself. After Amy died, and he held them for the first time in that room across from the hospital nursery, he’d become a worrier. He supposed he’d carry that to his own grave.
He and Clara went downstairs where, by habit, they settled at the kitchen table. Darkness had fallen while they bathed the twins, then wrestled them into their sleepers for the night and said their prayers for them.
“Okay,” he said, stirring his coffee, “let’s talk. I’ve made a decision.”
Clara straightened in her chair. “So have I.”
Hadley stiffened. He’d sensed her earlier frown wasn’t about Gracie being fussy. He’d been right. Clara was exhausted. He’d known this moment would come ever since he had moved in and filled her tidy house to the rafters with all the babies’ gear. The twins seemed to outgrow their clothes every week, and he was now a regular customer at Baby Things. Apparently, so was Jenna Moran, who brought shirts and jeans and dresses and toys whenever she came to see them. Which, even once