Twins On The Doorstep

As if on cue, the babies began to fuss in earnest, each growing progressively louder than the other, as if it was some sort of a pint-sized competition.

Miss Joan nodded toward the infants. “I guess you have your marching orders,” she told Cole and Stacy. “Now go. And I don’t want to hear anything about you using a rope,” she told Cole. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Miss Joan,” he replied.

It was easier that way than getting into an argument with the diner owner. Legend had it that no one had ever won an argument with Miss Joan, and that included her husband, Cash’s grandfather. But then, Henry Taylor had doted on Miss Joan, which, it turned out, was exactly the right way to get along with the woman.

* * *

“YOU REALLY FOUND these babies on your doorstep?” Stacy asked several minutes later.

She had gotten into the back seat of his truck and he had handed her the wicker basket with the babies. The infants were dozing and the silence in the truck felt overwhelming. Stacy couldn’t think of anything else to say, and every other topic would set them off on a course she had no desire to travel.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, getting into the driver’s seat. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

As if she didn’t know where he found the babies, he thought.

He was staring at her, Stacy realized, and it took everything she had not to squirm in her seat. This was a totally bad idea, going with Cole to the clinic like this. But no one said no to Miss Joan and Stacy wasn’t about to be the first. She had no desire to have her head handed to her.

“Do you have any idea who the mother might be?” Stacy asked him.

Okay, Cole thought, he’d play along. “There might be a few possibilities,” he responded vaguely. “But that’s why I came with them to Miss Joan. She’s always on top of everything and I figure that she’d be the first to know whose babies they were.”

“Miss Joan doesn’t know everything,” Stacy insisted.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But right now, I figured she was my best shot.”

Why are we playing these games, Stacy? Tell me the truth. Are these babies mine?

For one moment, he wrestled with an overwhelming desire to ask the woman in the back seat just that. It would explain why she’d left town so abruptly. But he knew asking her was pointless. He knew her. She wouldn’t answer him. In all likelihood, she’d just walk out on him the way she had the last time.

And, angry as he was about her leaving him, he didn’t want that happening again. Not until he’d had a chance to talk with her—really talk.

Desperate for something to say, he fell back on what Miss Joan had said when she’d first greeted Stacy.

“I’m sorry to hear about your Aunt Kate,” he told her. “What happened?”

“She died,” Stacy said stoically.

Why are you acting as if you care? We both know you don’t. You don’t care anything about me or about Aunt Kate, so stop pretending.

“I realize that,” he said, doing his best to be patient. “That’s why I said I was sorry to hear about her.” Getting his temper under control, he asked, “Did it happen while you were in Europe?”

She looked out the window on her left. “Yes.”

He felt pity stirring within him. “That must have been awful for you, having her die and having no one to turn to.”

She blew out a breath. She didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want anything from him. Still looking out the side window, she said, “I managed.”

“We’re here,” he announced, and just like that, the topic was closed.

For now.

Chapter Four (#u6881fc46-1d62-5674-b4c6-f4498156b67e)

Rounding the truck’s hood, Cole came to the rear passenger door and opened it before Stacy could. Bending down, he got a firm grip on the wicker basket and drew it out of the truck. The babies were just beginning to wake up again.

“I’ll get the door,” Stacy volunteered, sliding down off her seat as soon as he had the basket. Before she hurried to the clinic’s front door, she paused to look at the babies. One of them was beginning to squirm just enough to throw the basket’s weight off while Cole was carrying it. “You want help with that—um, with them?” she corrected.

Was it his imagination, or was she trying too hard to appear unaffected by the sight of the twins? For now, Cole dismissed the thought, but it continued to hover in the back of his mind.

“Just get the door,” he told Stacy. “I’ve got the basket.”

For the briefest of moments, Stacy allowed herself a fleeting smile.

“Yes, you do,” she said, adding, “You surprise me.” When he raised an eyebrow in silent query, she explained, “I didn’t think you’d be any good with babies.”

He supposed he could see her point. She hadn’t been there to see him with either Devon’s baby or the one Cassidy rescued. “I guess we never know what we’re capable of until we’re confronted with the situation.”

“I guess not,” she agreed.

It hurt, Cole thought, talking to Stacy like this. The only thing that would hurt more would be not being able to talk to her. When she’d suddenly taken off the way she had, he’d thought he would never see her again. He hadn’t understood just what hell he’d been in these last eight months until just a few minutes ago, when he saw her walking into Miss Joan’s.

Lord, but he’d missed her.

Cole cleared his throat. “Just get the door,” he told her gruffly.

Stacy squared her shoulders as she pulled open the front door, then stepped to the side as far as she could, clearing the space for him. The basket was obviously unwieldy, despite his efforts to hold it steady, and she didn’t want Cole dropping the babies.

The second they walked in, they became the center of attention.

As usual, the clinic was full. It was the only available medical facility within a fifty-mile radius, so everyone who had a complaint of some sort, or found themselves in need of a checkup, came here. These days there were two doctors on the premises, as well as two nurses. Even so, the clinic was open from around eight, sometimes earlier, until eight, sometimes later. The doors were never officially locked until every patient in the waiting room had been seen.

Initially, the din in the clinic today was a little louder than usual, with fragments of conversations crisscrossing through the air. All that came to an abrupt, startled halt when Cole walked into the reception area carrying the wicker basket with the two babies in it. The fact that Stacy, his former girlfriend, came in right behind him was missed by no one.

Jackson’s wife, Debi White Eagle, was behind the desk when they walked in. She immediately rose to her feet, ready to help Cole with the infants he had in the basket.

“Cole, what have you got there?” Debi asked, even though she was actually looking at Stacy when she asked the question.

Cole appeared almost sheepish as he explained, “They were on the doorstep when I left the bunkhouse this morning. I really could have used you,” he added, looking at Debi.

Debi had crossed the reception area and was beside him now, getting a closer look at the babies.

“Well, you seem to be doing all right with them,” she told Cole with approval. “Whose babies are they?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Cole admitted.

His response had a room full of patients murmuring to one another.