A Dad for Her Twins. Lois Richer
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pushing back arctic gusts of January air that swept through the valley nestled in the foothills of the Rockies. He flicked the heater up a notch but in spite of the warmth pouring out, Cade shivered. Hot, sunny days were the only thing he missed about Afghanistan.
Well, the heat and Max—Maxwell McDonald, the best friend Cade ever had. Max with his exuberant laughter; Max who found joy in a desert sandstorm. Max who’d once saved Cade’s life, then lost his own over five months ago on a mission that Cade had refused to accept. He’d received a hardship discharge because of his father’s strokes, and despite the military’s offer of a one-time premium payout, he couldn’t go back. The big fee showed how badly they wanted his specialized skill set of breaching enemy defenses. He could have used that money, but not enough to suppress his fear of dying in that war-torn country. Finally they’d accepted his refusal and Max had left without him.
Memories of past missions braided with guilt in Cade’s head for the entire half-hour drive. Why hadn’t he just gone? Why hadn’t he been there for his best buddy? Why was he such a weakling? By the time he pulled into the winding road of the cemetery and made his way to where Max’s grave marker thrust out of the snow, a familiar anger festered inside.
Why Max, God? Why not me?
The question died in his throat at the sight of a small, huddled form kneeling beside his grave. Abby, Max’s wife.
Cade hesitated, not wanting to interrupt her. But the winter afternoon light was already fading because he’d been later than planned getting away from the ranch. Now there were clouds forming in the west, suggesting his drive home might be stormy. He waited several minutes, then switched off his truck, grabbed his gloves and stepped down, following small, feminine footprints through deep drifts of snow. Gasping sobs made him stop just behind the diminutive brunette.
Feeling like an intruder, Cade fiddled with his hands. He should have left this morning’s fence mending till tomorrow. If he’d arrived earlier he could have avoided Abby.
“I failed, Max. I’ve failed so badly.” Her weeping wrenched at Cade’s heart. He almost decided to go away until she finished her private mourning, but changed his mind when the wind whipped snow around them and she shivered.
“Abby? Are you okay?”
She twisted her head to look at him.
“Hi, Cade.” She forced a smile, but her pale skin, sunken eyes and too-prominent cheekbones shocked him. She looked nothing like the full-of-life beauty Max had loved, but then she wouldn’t. Almost six months ago she’d lost the man she’d been married to for four short months. She swiped a hand over her cheek to erase the tears. “It was nice of you to come. He would have liked that.”
Her awkwardness when she tried to stand surprised him. Cade reached out a hand to lend support, then gulped hard when she rose. Abby McDonald was very pregnant.
“I didn’t know—” He stopped, swallowing the rest of his comment.
“You couldn’t,” she excused him with a faint smile.
“I should have called you.” Guilt ate at Cade. He hadn’t visited her since the week after the funeral because seeing her roused a tickle of envy. Why hadn’t he ever met someone like Max’s Abby? Someone to love?
“Cade?” She’d obviously said something he hadn’t heard. “I’m all right.”
“That doesn’t excuse me. Max would have wanted me to make sure you were.” He watched as she placed a tender hand on her abdomen and smoothed circles. “Is everything okay?”
“With the babies? Yes.” She sounded guarded, which bothered Cade until his brain clicked in.
“Babies?” he gasped. “As in more than one?”
“Twins.” Her glance slid to the gravestone and her smile seemed to drain away.
“Congratulations. When are you due?” Though he felt awkward asking something so personal, Cade was determined to make up for his neglect. Ensuring Max’s beloved Abby was all right was the very least he owed his friend.
His conscience reminded him that it couldn’t make up for the guilt of not accompanying Max on that last mission, the one that had cost his buddy his life. Cade should have been there to protect him.
“The babies will arrive in three months, give or take.” Abby’s black calf-length coat didn’t fit around her bulk. She dragged on the lapels, trying to close the gap and shuddering as the January wind sucked at them. She didn’t look directly at him. That bothered Cade.
“It’s too cold for you out here.” He flicked his key fob to remote start his truck. “Let’s sit inside.”
“Ok-kay,” she stammered. She took one step toward him and slipped.
As Cade reached out to grab her, Abby fell forward into his arms. The breath squeezed from his lungs at the contact. He held her until she was stable but he couldn’t stop staring.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, her green eyes at his chin level. “I’m not as agile as I used to be.”
“No problem.” He tore his gaze free and drew her toward the truck, moving slowly, his hand firmly anchoring her. But when he threw open the door, Abby just stood there, looking from it to him helplessly. That’s when he realized she couldn’t manage the high step.
“Hang on.” Without asking permission, Cade scooped her into his arms and lifted her until both feet were on the truck step.
Abby gasped a thank-you before scooting inside the cab. As she drew off her gloves, Cade noticed their thin shabbiness. Her snow boots looked worn-out, too, the leather battered and nicked, the heels run-down. He remembered how her glossy brunette curls used to bounce with life. Now the lank strands were scraped back from her face and tied in a ponytail. The only color she wore was an emerald-green wool scarf twined around her neck. It matched her eyes.
Abby looked nothing like the vivacious blushing bride he remembered and yet he couldn’t keep from staring at her.
Cade closed her door and walked to the other side of his vehicle. He climbed into his truck, trying to imagine what could have caused such change. Not that Abby wasn’t beautiful. She would always possess the timeless lines and angles that neither time, worry nor age would ever diminish. But today she looked drained, careworn, and Cade had a hunch it wasn’t all due to her pregnancy. He cursed himself for not checking on her with more than a monthly phone call.
Cade had missed Max’s funeral because of his dad’s second stroke. To make up for his absence, he now visited the graveyard every month. He’d gone to see Abby twice, but she’d seemed so shattered during those times that Cade had made do with phone calls from then on, unwilling to interrupt her grieving. Now he realized he should have done more. He should have gone to visit Abby every time he came to town. She’d always said she was okay, but he should have made sure.
Of course, Cade had been preoccupied with the ranch, trying to wrest every acre of land and animal from the fiscal chaos his father had created. Abby had known his phone calls were only duty calls, even made light of them, teasing him about his commitment to Max. She kept insisting she was fine and Cade had accepted that because the one thing he didn’t need, didn’t want, was responsibility for something or someone else.
Judging by what he now saw, Abby was not fine.
She held her bare hands in front of the heating vents. He noticed with some surprise that the diamond solitaire and matching gold band Max had given her were absent from her pale ring finger. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed, as if she’d lost her last ounce of strength. Was her pregnancy so difficult?
“Max was such a good man.” Abby stared out the side window at her husband’s grave, then, after a moment, turned to look at him. “I know God directed his every move.” Pain wove through her words. “I can’t understand why he had to die.”
“I can’t, either.” Cade could