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When the nurse stepped into the room again, he startled. “Baby Girl,” she announced, carrying two bundles, one on each arm, “and Baby Boy. Have you chosen names for them, Mr. Smith?”
“No,” he said, pulse stuttering in alarm. He’d left those choices, and most others, to Amy. He should have paid more attention.
He considered making another protest—what did he know about babies?—but the nurse transferred one twin, then the other, into his hastily outstretched arms. He could hardly have refused to take them; they would have ended up on the floor. Since the cover and the first mini cap were blue, he must be holding the boy. Next, in pink…the girl. “God, they’re small,” he muttered.
“Yes, but not preemies. They weighed in almost the same, remember, just over five pounds each. And healthy. Their Apgar scores were off the chart.” She smiled, looking misty-eyed. “Go ahead, you can touch them. They won’t break.”
Hadley wasn’t sure of that. He tried to repress the image, but he couldn’t help but note that the babies were no bigger than two sacks of potatoes, together maybe a quarter the weight of a good saddle.
He’d seen birth before…at least on the ranch. Give him a laboring cow to manage, let a newborn calf slide into his hands, and he knew exactly what to do. Its mama soon took over, and Hadley’s job was done. He’d once reminded Amy’s doctor of that, and Amy had chided him for comparing her to cattle. But he had no idea what to do with these two little babies.
He decided not to share this sum total of his experience with the nurse, who kept giving him weird looks anyway.
Saying, “I’ll leave you with them,” she vanished into the hall.
A fresh spurt of panic shot through him. What was he supposed to do? Even with his friends’ kids, he’d only watched, never taking part in the childcare.
“Wait,” he called after the nurse, but she didn’t hear him. She’d promised to come back soon, but how long would that be? Minutes? An hour? He sat rigid on the sofa, his head throbbing. Already his right arm ached from the slight, warm weight resting against it, and something niggled at the edges of his mind again, then flitted off. In his numbed state, what was he missing? Then the boy snuffled, and Hadley’s pulse lurched. Could he breathe all bound up like that?
With one finger Hadley nudged the blanket aside and saw a little face staring up at him, blue eyes wide and intent, the most focused look he’d ever seen. “Hey, pal,” Hadley murmured. He blinked but his focus had somehow quit for the second time that day; the first had been when he learned Amy hadn’t survived. The tiny girl’s cover slipped, and there she was, too.
Like her brother, the baby had Amy’s reddish-gold hair, and Hadley swore he could see Amy’s face. Her nose, her lips, her chin. Well, maybe his ears, but that was all he could see of himself in the little girl. Ah, Amy. She would never experience this awesome sight. He noisily cleared his throat. “Look at you, sweetie pie.”
She reached out her hand again, as she’d done earlier through the nursery window. A random motion or was she seeking him? When Hadley dared to touch her, she wound her impossibly small fingers around his and held on much tighter than he would expect from such a little mite, and his heart clenched. Her skin felt creamy and smooth. She smelled like…innocence. Her nails were perfect, translucent. An all-around miracle, as birth always was.
When Sawyer McCord suddenly appeared in the doorway in his white coat, Hadley couldn’t speak.
Sawyer’s dark blue gaze softened. “Nothing like it, is there?”
“Nothing,” Hadley managed to say. He didn’t suppose they meant the same thing.
Odd as it seemed, though, theirs was a shared experience. Sawyer and his wife, Olivia, had become the parents of a son only last spring. Hadley looked from one twin to the other, uncertain which seemed more vulnerable, sweeter.
Gazing at him, Sawyer had folded his arms as if he expected Hadley to try to shove the newborn twins at him, then run, the big tough cowboy who only wanted the open range and a horse of his own. He’d done bad stuff in his life, inherited bad genes, but… He gazed down at the squirming babies in his arms, and his whole being turned to mush. He hadn’t been a good husband, at least not the one Amy had wished for. He sure hadn’t wanted to have kids who might turn out like him. The one family member who’d relied on him years ago, Hadley had let down—to put it mildly.
If he wanted to live by the cowboy’s code of honor, which Hadley did, he needed to accept the consequences of his own actions now. Never mind his rocky, on-again, mostly off-again relationship with Amy. That was, sadly, over.
In a few short moments, he’d morphed from a possibly divorced man into a widower, then a father. And finally he knew what to do. This would be different from his marriage. These were Amy’s babies, always would be, but they were also his. What other choice was there? “Guess I’m a daddy now,” he told Sawyer.
Because no way would he let anyone else have them. Once before, he’d given up someone he should have cared for, and it wouldn’t happen again. Looked like he wasn’t going anywhere. For now.
That was when he glanced up and saw the woman standing frozen in the doorway. And at last Hadley remembered the other problem that had been circling, half-formed yet unreachable, through his head. Jenna Moran would have been his easy way out.
Instead, he had a fight on his hands.
“I GOT HERE as soon as I could,” Jenna said. “I can’t believe this has happened. How terrible.”
She’d been crying ever since her friend Olivia, who’d heard the news from her husband, Sawyer, called. During the drive from her apartment building to the hospital, Jenna had sobbed at the wheel. Poor Amy. The friendship they’d nurtured as neighbors over the past months of her pregnancy had just ended abruptly, and Jenna would never see Amy again. Which seemed impossible.
Sawyer touched her shoulder. “It’s a sad day, Jenna. I’ll leave you two to talk.” He said a few low words to Hadley Smith, who forced a brief smile. Then Sawyer swept from the room in a blur of dark hair and broad shoulders that, unlike Hadley, she imagined would willingly carry the weight of the world. She was surprised Hadley was still here.
The consensus in town before Amy’s loss was that Hadley would flee as soon as the twins arrived. Now he was an unlikely single dad. But from what Jenna knew, largely from Amy, she couldn’t imagine this rough cowboy sticking around long enough to change diapers.
The cold look in Hadley’s eyes, a penetrating steel blue, didn’t change her mind about him, not that she was normally given to judging other people. But even physically—with his powerful, athletic build—Hadley seemed too tall, too big and, most of all, too remote to be a daddy. Those traits reminded Jenna of her own father, who had either neglected her or unleashed his anger on her. According to Amy, Hadley had a temper, too. She refused to meet his stare.
She knew what her friends in their Girls’ Night Out group called him. The Bad Boy of Barren. There were others in town who were attracted to his rugged good looks and that brown, nearly black hair, but Jenna couldn’t see past the picture Amy had painted of Hadley.
“Well,” he said, “I know why you’re here. And you’re wasting your time.” His mouth had tightened. “My kids don’t need a stand-in mother.”
“You mean a standby guardian,” Jenna corrected him. She’d never heard the term until a few months ago. “Amy asked me if I would be the twins’ guardian, and I said yes.” Because Jenna, who was unfailingly loyal, supported her friends. “But I never imagined anything terrible would actually happen to her.”
“I didn’t expect Amy to die, either.”
Jenna blinked. “I wish with all my heart she hadn’t. But you must have known about the court hearing to appoint me guardian.” The judge would have made it official for Jenna to take over custodial duties for the twins in case something happened to Amy, and Hadley also left them and disappeared.
Heaven knew, Amy had wanted Hadley to love her as she loved him, a man who’d never wanted a family and claimed he couldn’t love anyone. She’d never stopped trying to change him, but she’d also never trusted that he wouldn’t abandon her, or in this case, their babies.
“That hearing,” Jenna said, “was scheduled for next week.”
“It won’t take place now. Which means you’re free and clear.” He gazed at the babies he held. “Our marriage was always shaky. By the time these little ones were born, I might have been somewhere else.” He paused. “That’s all changed now, though. To set your mind at ease, I mean to stay.”
This wasn’t at all what Jenna had expected. She wouldn’t have to go through with the guardianship, which would have been difficult for her at best, and instead she could continue putting herself together again after her divorce. Nothing would ever again derail her the way her broken marriage had. No one, she told herself, including Hadley Smith.
“Amy ever mention what names she picked out?” he suddenly asked.
A couple of weeks ago, one night while Hadley was out, Amy had talked about her choices, and Jenna did recall several of them. “I remember 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.
CHAPTER TWO (#u4c1dd979-e42f-549f-9259-52b654d85705)
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 a week, was too often for Hadley. Fortunately, he was usually at work then.
“I should look for another place, Clara,” he began, then held up a hand. “I know, you’ve told me you like having us here, and you’re great with Luke and Gracie, but we’re in your way.”
Clara’s eyes filled. “Move out now? How would you manage, having to work and care for those sweet babies with no one to help?”
Had he been wrong after all? Hadley tried to ignore a sudden mental image of Jenna. Why think of her? They were like oil and water. She had a sense of style that set off her auburn hair and blue eyes, liked antiques and probably other fancy stuff. Hadley preferred working in a barn. He was jeans and old boots. This was her hometown, but Hadley was already planning to move—on his terms, not like when he was a kid. “I can put the twins in day care. I know how tough this has been on you.”
Her chin went up. “No, you do not. When I lost Cliff, I lost myself for a while. Then after you had those beautiful babies, I found out who I was again.”
Hadley twirled his coffee cup. He’d never thought he was doing something for Clara. Quite the reverse.
“I understand about Cliff,” he said. “But before you know it, the twins will be crawling around, then walking and running all over the place.”
She frowned. “You’re saying I’m too old to chase after them.”
“I’m saying you deserve a rest. I can’t ever thank you for everything you’ve already done, but Clara, we’re imposing. I can’t ask more of you.”
“And where will you live?”
A good question. He wasn’t foreman at the Sutherland ranch any longer and didn’t have the house that came with the NLS job. Hadley was now an ordinary cowhand there, hoping he wouldn’t be let go when winter came on again and the ranch hunkered down to wait out the snow. It was early spring now, and his job seemed safe; it was a busy season on any ranch except this one. He glanced out the window at the empty fields the McManns had worked for decades before Cliff died. “I’ll get an apartment in town again,” he said.
“You’ve got this all wrong, Hadley.” Clara set her cup aside. “Does this have to do with Jenna Moran?”
“Partly, maybe. Sure.” In his own place, she couldn’t surprise him with a visit. She’d soon get discouraged, then stop coming to check on the twins—and Hadley.
“You’d let that sweet woman chase you off? When you’re far more comfortable here than you would be in a tiny apartment?”
He blinked. He’d heard another note in Clara’s tone. Sorrow? It had never occurred to him that Clara needed them as much as they needed her. He was never good with women, Amy being no exception. He could never figure out Jenna Moran, either, who got under his skin every time he saw her.
Clara struggled to continue. “I don’t want you and the twins to leave…” Before she said the rest, Hadley knew he’d lost control of the situation. It wouldn’t be his choice after all. “And I hate to do this, making matters worse, but with Cliff gone,” Clara went on, “and our land sitting fallow, it has become too difficult—even with the money you contribute every month—for me to stay here. Nothing will happen right away, but—” She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to sell the ranch, unless…” She paused. “Why don’t you buy it?”
Her question didn’t require an answer. They both knew Hadley had no money.
JENNA RARELY STEPPED into the Baby Things store on Main Street without buying something. And considering the fact that she would never have children of her own, she was running up quite a tab for her new nephew and Hadley Smith’s twins. She seemed fated never to leave the shop without at least one package wrapped in colorful paper printed with elephants or lions, cupcakes or kittens.
From the rear of the store, Sherry, the owner, called out, “You’re my first customer of the day. What brings you in this early?”
Jenna’s gaze cut from the ever-tempting displays of children’s clothes. “I promised my sister I’d pick up her order on my way to work—as if she doesn’t have every possible item a baby might need.”
“The order came in yesterday.” With a laugh, Sherry went back into the storeroom to find the box while Jenna stood stock-still in the center of the shop, determined not to notice the sweet yellow sundress on one table, or the pastel playsuit paired with the tiniest navy blue sneakers on another. When the bell jangled above the door, she turned to see…oh, no. Hadley I-don’t-need-your-involvement Smith.
She’d actually run into him only a few times since that day in the hospital. Once she’d spotted him on the street here in town pushing a double stroller through the winter slush on the sidewalk. The twins had been bundled in adorable matching snowsuits covered with hoods so Jenna couldn’t clearly see their faces. Instead of approaching, she’d hurried into Olivia McCord Antiques, telling herself she was late for work and couldn’t stop even to coo over the babies.
Jenna shot a look at the storeroom, but Sherry didn’t reappear from behind the curtain with its colorful pattern of sailboats and sand pails.
“Sherry here?” he asked.
“In the back. She’ll be out in a minute.” Now would be even better. “I don’t work here,” she added in case he’d thought she did.
“I know. You help at the store down the block.”
“I used to manage it,” she corrected him, surprised to think he’d been keeping tabs on her. Her friend and now former employer Olivia had two shops, one in Barren and the other in Farrier, the next town over in the county.
Jenna had enjoyed the job, but it wasn’t what she wanted long-term. Having just completed her studies to become an interior designer, she’d served her notice to Olivia a couple of weeks ago and was starting her own business—Fantastic Designs—or trying to this first week. She had to support herself now. But she saw no need to share that with Hadley.
“Don’t have much use for old furniture,” he said, running a hand over the nape of his neck, “or new, for that matter.”
