For The Twins' Sake. Melissa Senate

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СКАЧАТЬ his. She glanced around the room, taking in the pale yellow playpen with its pastel mobile atop it by the bay window. The baby swing. The big basket of baby paraphernalia by the coffee table—she could see neatly folded burp cloths, a pack of diapers, a pink pacifier on a silver tray on the coffee table. An infant stroller was by the front door with a tote bag hanging from its handles. Lots of photos on the mantel were of Annabel, a few of Noah holding her.

      She gasped as it really sank in that Annabel had lived here these past seven weeks, that Noah had taken her in—as his daughter.

      Was he relieved that the mother had come back to take her? Upset? Noah Dawson was the bachelor of bachelors. Clearly he’d gotten his act together to reopen the guest ranch, but perhaps his siblings were all involved in that. The Noah she’d known near the end of their relationship two years ago didn’t wake until noon, despite having a ranch to run. Didn’t take care of business. Didn’t take care of their fledgling romance, the one she’d fought and kicked so hard for. Turned out Noah Dawson had been right about himself—that he’d only break her heart in more ways than one.

      She always thought she knew better, didn’t she.

      Her future was in her arms. In the carrier beside the sofa. Her children. Hours ago she’d had only a son. Now she had twins.

      Take the blessing and let that fill you, she ordered herself. Because letting herself get caught up in anger over the past—recent and not so recent—would only hold her back. She had a family to raise, money to earn, a life to start.

      She took a deep breath and glanced at the other photos on the mantel, surprised to see one of her and Noah in their caps and gowns, their high school graduation. They’d both worked at the Circle D then, a prosperous ranch a half hour away. Sara had lived there as the foreman’s daughter, and Noah was a hand. But a month later, when he turned eighteen, Noah had moved there too, so upset by the conversation he’d had with his dad a half hour earlier that he’d gone off alone. Sara still didn’t know what had gone on during that discussion.

      The other photos were of his siblings, the six of them together when Noah was sixteen. They’d still come home to celebrate his birthday, though they’d refused to have Christmas at the ranch with their dad and had flown Noah to one of their homes instead.

      There was a photo of his mom, a pretty brunette with blue eyes who’d died when he was ten, something that had brought Sara and Noah even closer. They never had to talk about how awful it felt to miss your mother, to wish she were there. They just knew and could be together, quiet, skipping stones in the river, throwing bread to the ducks, climbing trees and sitting up there for hours.

      She missed the Noah he’d been three-quarters of the time—even to the very end of their relationship two years ago. She missed that guy so, so much.

      And she’d missed this cabin. She turned to look around. She had so many memories here, so much history. She knew every nook and cranny, which floorboards creaked on the stairs, how many steps it was down to the creek (182), how she’d sat on her bed in her room upstairs, writing Sara Dawson in hearts in her journal like the lovesick teenager she’d been.

      “Where’s my sweet baby girl?” a woman’s voice called cheerily through the front screen door, followed by a set of knocks. “I need my Annabelly time.”

      Sara froze. Oh God. Who was this?

      Noah’s wife? Girlfriend?

      “Noah? You here?” the feminine voice called.

      Sara bit her lip. Should she go to the door? Pretend she wasn’t here?

      Curiosity got the better of her, since this woman might have helped Noah take care of Annabel the past seven weeks. Maybe, in fact, she’d done all the work. That was more likely.

      She went to the door, and her heart soared. It was Daisy Dawson, Noah’s only sister.

      “Daisy!” Sara said, hearing her voice break and not caring. Her long honey-brown hair in a braid practically to her waist, a straw cowboy hat on her head, pretty, sweet Daisy had been a good friend from childhood until Willem had isolated Sara from everyone she used to care about. Daisy was also at least six months pregnant.

      “Whoa—Sara?” Daisy asked with a shocked grin, pulling open the screen door and coming inside. She glanced at Annabel in Sara’s arms. “This is a huge surprise. Did you come for Dawson’s grand reopening?” Before Sara could even respond, Daisy added, “That rascal Noah—he didn’t even tell me you two had gotten back in touch. God, Sara, it’s so good to see you. You look amazing. So healthy and glowy. Is Noah here or did he have to step out to deal with something?” Daisy touched a finger to Annabel’s cheek. “I’m so glad you got to meet my beautiful niece. Isn’t she precious?”

      My beautiful niece. Sara’s knees buckled.

      Sara tightened her arms around Annabel, more out of instinct than because she was worried she’d really drop to her knees.

      Her every emotion must have been showing on her face, because Daisy tilted her head and looked at her. “Sara? You okay?”

      “Not really,” Sara said. “Not by a long shot. I’ll be okay, though.”

      Daisy put a hand on Sara’s arm, her warm blue eyes filled with concern. “How about we go talk in the kitchen? I know I could use a cup of decaf. I actually could use a big mug of real coffee. But I’m limiting myself to one cup a day, and I had that.” She patted her belly.

      Sara glanced at Daisy’s left hand. No ring. She wondered what the story was there as she followed Daisy into the kitchen. Daisy always used to talk about wanting to be a mom one day, but she was insistent on picking the right guy so she’d never get divorced like her parents had, let alone thrice divorced like her dad. Sara had once pointed out that you could pick the right guy, as her own mother had, and leave him a brokenhearted widow at age thirty-six. You just never knew what life was going to throw at you.

      As Daisy headed for the coffee maker, reaching for two mugs in the cabinet, Sara found her attention taken by the refrigerator door, all the things hung up with magnets. There was a checklist of baby-proofing essentials. A cutout newspaper ad for a local grandmother of five who did hand embroidery personalization on baby clothing and blankets and towels. The American Academy of Pediatrics’ recommendations for feeding and napping schedules.

      “Noah loves Annabel, doesn’t he,” Sara said, more a statement than a question, her voice sounding far away to her own ears as she stood in front of the fridge. “I can tell. I knew it as soon I saw him with her in the Snugli.”

      Daisy tilted her head. “Of course. He loves that baby girl to pieces. Did you hear the crazy story? How someone left her on his porch right before that terrible rainstorm just about two months ago? There was a note that said the baby was his. He had no reason to doubt it. He even insists Annabel looks like him, but I don’t see it. Don’t tell him I said that!” She laughed and pressed a button on the coffee maker.

      Sara almost smiled at the thought of Noah thinking Annabel looked like him. Once upon a time, when she’d still held out hope for marrying Noah Dawson and having a family with him, she’d always pictured little Noahs, two or three, with intense blue eyes and wavy dark hair, mischievous grins and big hearts.

      “Daisy, I have a crazier story,” Sara said. And told her everything. Not leaving a detail out.

      Daisy was an expressive woman to start with, СКАЧАТЬ