Reunited for the Holidays

“So, more waiting.” She plunked into the offered chair, hardly noticing the dining room echoing around her. The vacant tables, the sounds of the staff hard at work in the kitchen, the rustle of Brian’s clothes as he drew out a chair and sat beside her, facing her, so close she could see the threads of bronze in the melted-chocolate color of his irises.

That kindness she read there hadn’t changed. He was still such a good man. Caring and compassionate. She hoped he’d found happiness in his life. Their failed marriage had been only half his fault.

“What do we tell the kids?” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“All of it. If my argument with Jack taught me anything, it’s that lies can destroy a family.”

“That’s right...you’d mentioned that you’d gotten into an intense confrontation with Jack before you fell off your horse.”

“He wanted to know who his father was, once and for all, and he was furious when I refused to tell him.” She couldn’t remember the argument or even hitting the ground. The details of that day were fuzzy to nonexistent, but it hadn’t been the first argument they’d had on the subject. She leaned back in the chair. “Don’t think I’d forgotten you or forgot the father Jack and Violet should have had.”

He swallowed hard, nodded once, obviously unable to answer. Guilt and sadness moved across his face.

Interesting. Yet again she was reminded that the Brian Wallace she’d once known hadn’t been one to show feelings at all, even in the heat of an argument. But now... She could detect a flicker of raw emotion in his eyes.

“There has always been a huge gaping hole in my life. In our lives.” His confusion sounded gruff, a father who’d been forced to walk away from two of his children. “It tore me apart.”

“Me, too.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. Brian spotted them and leaned in to lay his hand against her cheek. One tear rolled across her skin and into the cup of his palm. The pain she felt, the wrenching agony of the hole in her life where he, Maddie and Grayson should have been, eased. “I never stopped missing them.”

“Me, either. I can get to know Violet and Jack, although I keep wanting to call them by their original names, before the marshal changed them. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“It took me a long time to get used to it, too,” she admitted softly. “As important as it was at the time, I kept slipping up. Violet was just a baby, so she adjusted to her name easier, but Jack kept stubbornly insisting he was Tanner. We had to make a game of it.”

“I can picture it. Grayson cried and cried for you. Night after night, day after day. Being alone when he’d been with his twin every hour of the day and night didn’t help. He cried for Tanner—I mean, Jack—too.”

“I wondered.” She gazed upon his face, the one she knew so well. The memory of him had stayed with her more than she’d realized. “I ached for them every night and day. They were my children.”

“Being separated from them was torture. It would have been easier to reach in and cut out my heart. I knew you felt the same way.” Understanding shone in his eyes. He’d walked in those shoes, too.

Maybe dealing with Brian won’t be so bad, she thought. He’d been hurt, too. God willing, maybe the hurting was over. “I really think we can go on from here. We can be civil, right?”

“Right. For the children’s sake.” He moved away as if they’d never been close, as if they were just two people sitting together, side by side in a big empty room. The clunk and clatter from the kitchen echoed loudly. “We keep them safe, we work together to make sure the past doesn’t harm them and once this is over, I’ll be on my way.”

“Back to Fort Worth?”

“That’s where my life is.” His home, his practice, his church, his friends. “I’ll be back for the weddings, of course. But don’t worry, Belle, you won’t have to deal with me for long.”

“That’s not what I was worrying about.” For an instant, a hint of vulnerability softened her Cupid’s-bow mouth, and in the brush of sunlight tumbling through the wide windows, she looked bronzed, the highlights in her auburn hair gleaming like rare silk, and a flashback from the past roared through him—the image of Belle sitting in the rocking chair, one newborn cradled in each arm, serene and glowing with a new mother’s love. Affection he’d thought was long dead whispered in his heart, just ashes of what was, he rationalized. That’s all it could be. His love for her had died long ago, but his caring for her hadn’t.

That caring was what motivated him now. He launched off his chair and held out his hand. “Let’s check you out of here and get you a real meal.”

“What does that mean? A homemade meal?”

“Sure, in some restaurant. We’ll find one.”

“I’ll text my housekeeper, Lupita, and have the kids bring a meal from the ranch. A big picnic lunch for all of us.” She eased off her chair, her left leg weak. At least she allowed him to help. “We can eat it in the sunroom, although it’s strange to think it’s December. I still look outside and expect it to be hot, sunny July.”

“A lot of time passed while you were sleeping.”

“And a lot of things changed. Like the fact that our kids are suddenly all madly in love. I just wish I had been here to see them find their perfect soul mates.” Her chin hiked up, full of grit. “And did I mention I’m going stir-crazy in here? What I need is to be outside beneath the big blue Texas sky, and I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will be.” Tenderness gathered behind his sternum, but surely it wasn’t tenderness, it only felt that way. It had to be worry for what the kids had gone through, seeing her fall off her horse, expecting her to get up and praying for her to be fine but she wasn’t. The rush to the hospital, the terror in the waiting room, the fear and anguish at her bedside praying for her to come back to them.

Thank You, Lord, he prayed automatically, as if caring about Belle was second nature. Once it had been. Now, she was the mother of their children, nothing more. It made him sad. He waited while she tapped away at the phone she drew from her pocket, her auburn hair tumbling forward to curtain her face. When she was done he tucked the chairs into place beneath the table and waited for her to amble into the aisle.

“I know the girls were planning to keep me company for lunch anyway,” Belle explained. “I told her to bring the boys along. We’ll tell them over the meal.”

“I know that look.” The furrow across her forehead. “You’re worried about how they are going to take this.”

“I’ve spent twenty-five years second-guessing my decision.” She halted, her pearled teeth digging into her lush bottom lip. Vulnerability carved into her face, showing every bit of the gentle girl with the big heart he’d fallen in love with once. “Their safety wasn’t the only reason I didn’t tell them the truth. I was afraid they would hate me for separating us. For not letting you and the other half of the twins come with us.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Belle.” It cut him in two to think back upon that unhappy time. “We both made that decision, remember? We agreed to stay apart. It was for the best.”

“Yes, but will they understand?” For all her strength and bravado, Belle’s world had revolved around her children. Clearly that was as true as it had ever been.

“We’ll do our best to make them understand.”

“Maybe now is a good time to tell you something else. The twins received Bibles from an anonymous person while I was in my coma. There were notes inside asking for forgiveness. There was no explanation and I can’t help but wonder if it could be from him?”

“I’ll find out. I promise you.” He reached out to cover her hand, wanting to comfort her and reassure her, but hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea.

As if she agreed, she gave his outstretched hand a worried look, straightened her shoulders and moved forward. “I think I need to lie down for a while.”

“Fine.” He stayed planted where he stood in the corridor, watching her progress along the tiled floor, hurrying away from him. Tall, lean, graceful, even with a limp. It wasn’t longing he felt—his affection for Belle was in the past—but he couldn’t put his finger on what emotion tugged at him. Perhaps he would always want to make things better for Belle, always want to make her happy.

Not that he’d ever been able to do so. Shoulders braced, he headed for the nurses’ station. He had a few questions for Belle’s doctors.

* * *

“...Lord bless us and keep us. Amen.” Belle finished the blessing, trying to keep her voice from wobbling with nerves. Thankful for her faith that sustained her and for her family, united and happy, she opened her eyes and gave Violet’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it.

For a minute it was like seeing double—two identical sons and two identical daughters seated in wicker chairs around a patio table watching her every move. No doubt for signs of weakness. They worried over her health too much. She was a Texas girl, born and bred. She was tough, she was resilient and she’d defeat the last effects of her head injury in no time. She hated that they were troubled. Worse, she hated the crinkle of concern carved into Brian’s handsome face. Movie-star handsome, she might add. Honest piercing brown eyes, exquisite cheekbones and the strongly angled jaw that maturity had only improved.

Now, why exactly was she noticing? Probably because it was better than the difficult story she was about to tell. Anxiety fluttered in her stomach, making the appetizing meal Lupita had packed for them look like a very bad idea indeed. Her midsection rolled, and her hunger tanked. The secret had lived inside her for so many years. She’d avoided this moment for more than one reason, for more reasons than she’d admitted to Brian. What if telling the truth brought more pain?

“Do you want me to start, Belle?” Brian couldn’t be kinder as he searched her face across the length of table. Behind him a Christmas garland slung across the doorway into the sunroom. “I’d like to.”

“You didn’t mention that earlier.” Her words were light and meant that way, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed. It was her story to tell, she was the one who’d torn this family apart long ago. Hadn’t that been how she’d spent the past hour in her room, practicing what she would say and how she would say it? Fearing all the while the twins wouldn’t understand. That they would resent her for disrupting their childhoods and separating them for over two decades. Each twin had grown up alone because of her.

“If you want to go first, then go.” Brian nodded absently, and Carter slipped a pulled pork sandwich onto his plate. Brian’s entire focus zeroed in on her. “Let me take the blame.”

“But you aren’t at fault.” His steadfast tone almost made her believe it.

“You weren’t the one who saw—” She stopped herself, seeing it happen all over again.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Jack leaned forward in his chair. “What did you see?”

“Yeah...what’s this all about?” Grayson asked.