Charlotte Maclay - Montana Twins

He shoved his fingers through his hair, shorter than Rory’s, more brown than black and several shades lighter. Now that he was trying to explain this baby situation to his brother, it sounded pretty damn crazy. Maybe it was a hoax. One of those adolescent games when a kid calls someone and asks if their refrigerator is running. When the victim says yes, the kids giggle and say you’d better catch it before it runs out the door. A silly, harmless prank.

But his caller hadn’t sounded like a kid. More like a woman with a sultry voice who hadn’t wanted to call him at all.

And the story of his mother, who had run through boyfriends like water through a sieve, sounded legit, too. She could have gotten pregnant again.

God, could it be that all these years he’d had a sister who he didn’t even know existed and now she was dead? He’d never have a chance to meet her. Or talk to her. Why hadn’t she come looking for him sooner?

Or could that call have been nothing more than a cruel trick? The woman the same kind of person who would abandon her own kid?

Tears stung at the backs of his eyes as memories assailed him. He’d been ten years old and standing in the parking lot of a fast-food hamburger joint. Looking for his mother and her current boyfriend. Looking for their car. He knew where it had been parked. It wasn’t there anymore. He’d had to go to the john. They’d left without him. God, he’d felt so alone. So hurt.

How could any mother do that to a kid?

He hadn’t had a sister then. He’d been an only child, crowded into the back seat of the car along with everything they owned, and making it a point to stay out of reach of his mom’s boyfriend. The guy had big meaty fists, Eric remembered that. And he knew how to use them.

A sob rose in his throat.

The office door opened to admit a current of fresh spring air along with Rory’s wife, Kristi, and their son, Adam.

Swiping the back of his hand across his face, Eric struggled to pull his emotions back under control.

“Hi, Uncle Eric.” The dark-haired five-year-old made a beeline for the nearest jail cell and began to swing on the door, peering out through the bars.

“Where did I put that key?” he asked, playing the game he and the boy had started recently. “I’ve caught me a monkey and I need to lock him up.”

The youngster giggled and made scratching gestures under his arm pits. “Hoot-hoot-hoot.”

Kristi stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Ted Pomperan is at the clinic with a dog that cut its foot.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there. Eric’s been telling me he’s going to be a daddy. Twins, he says.”

“Girls,” Eric added. If the tale was true.

“You’re kidding!” Kristi whirled toward him, her eyes widening. “I certainly hope you plan to marry the woman.”

“Well, no. I mean, I don’t even know the woman. She just called a couple of minutes—”

“I’d say you know her plenty well enough if she’s going to have your babies,” Kristi insisted.

Adam piped up. “Does that mean I’m gonna get some more cousins?”

“She’s not going to have my babies. They’re already three months old. And they might not even be—”

“So she hadn’t told you she was—”

“Rory!” Eric came around the desk, caught Rory and Kristi by their respective elbows, ushering them toward the door. “Go take care of your canine patient, and in the meantime will you please explain the situation to your wife so she doesn’t think I’ve committed some mortal sin.”

“I’m not sure I get the picture myself,” Rory complained.

“Neither do I. With luck, when the woman shows up tomorrow with the twins, I’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.” Assuming she comes at all.

Rory opened the door for his wife.

“You be nice to the woman, Eric Oakes,” Kristi admonished him. “If she’s had your babies, she’ll be feeling very vulnerable and unsure of herself. I know that’s how I felt when I came back to Grass Valley and had to face Rory and tell him about Adam.”

Exasperated, Eric said, “Talk to her, bro.” He eased them out the door, closing it behind them and drew a deep breath.

Incredible. Was he really about to become a father of two baby girls?

Which reminded him that he didn’t know squat about babies and diapers and bottles or any of that stuff. How the hell was he going to manage if it came to that?

Turning around, his gaze landed on Adam, who was still behind bars.

“Your folks just left.”

The boy lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. “The door locked itself. I can’t get out.”

“Right.” He headed for the ring of keys hanging on a peg behind his desk.

Not only did he know little about caring for babies, he wasn’t all that sure he’d be able to handle a couple of girls Adam’s age when the time came. And God help him, when they became adolescents, his goose would be cooked.

If they were his nieces and he was about to become their daddy.

“I DON’T KNOW how you can give away those sweet little babies.” Barbara Cavendish shaded her eyes against the morning sun as Laura loaded the twins inside her SUV for the trip to Grass Valley.

“It’s what their mother wanted. Amy made that abundantly clear.” A knot formed in Laura’s throat at the mere thought of handing the twins over to a perfect stranger, even if he was their only living relative. And she fully understood that in her mother’s heart, she’d already claimed the twins as her grandchildren.

Laura tried for a brave smile as she adjusted Amanda’s car seat, then reached across her to the second car seat and caressed the blond fuzz on Rebecca’s head. She’d never seen two more beautiful babies, small for their age but absolutely perfect in every way. She desperately hoped that once their uncle Eric met the twins he wouldn’t feel the same way about them as she did. There was no law that said he had to raise them. He could easily reject the idea once he realized what it entailed.

“You know I loved Amy as if she were my own child,” her mother continued. Barbara Cavendish had taken Amy into her home and heart as an abused foster child when the girl had been only ten years old. Laura had become her big sister—a role she’d loved and continued as best she could after Amy had moved out on her own. “I’m just not sure she was thinking clearly, wanting to give her babies away to a complete stranger when she knew you—”

“Her half brother, Mom.”

“Who she didn’t even know existed until she rummaged through that shoe box of things her mother left her. I wish you hadn’t hired that private detective to find the man.”

In more ways than Laura could count, she wished that too. “I promised Amy I’d follow her wishes if I could.”

During Amy’s last trimester of pregnancy, it had become clear she wouldn’t be able to continue working as a waitress, and the complications of Amy’s diabetes made the pregnancy high risk. She was told she could die.

Not wanting to burden Laura’s mother, who tended to be overly protective, Amy had moved in with Laura. Soon after that she’d discovered she had a half brother—the twins’ only living blood relative.

Then the worst had happened. Amy slipped into a coma before she gave birth to the twins. Only the doctor’s quick action, taking the babies by cesarean section, had saved them. Amy had given her life for the children she never had a chance to hold.

Preparing for that contingency, she’d left written instructions for Laura to follow, signed and notarized, as binding as any will. Find Amy’s half brother, if she could. See if he’d be a suitable daddy. If not, Amy wanted Laura to raise her babies. In the end, the decision would be Laura’s.