McCallum Quintuplets (19 page)

“Well, we were short on time, and I didn't want to waste any of it with any…” Her voice stopped on a shudder when he bent toward her and touched his lips to her throat, finding a spot by her ear that sent signals deep into her being. Then the shirt was being slipped off, and the jeans followed. Adam's hands against her naked skin, his heat mingling with hers and the beating of the rain on the windows only echoed her heartbeat.

There was an urgency in her, a fierce need for him that shook her. It had only started the other night. She tugged at his clothes, needing to feel him, to know him, to be part of him. Then his clothes were gone, tossed away, and she and Adam lay together, their bodies entwined in the
cool linen, her head against his heart, his breath ruffling her hair as the storm built outside.

“I want this to last forever.” He breathed roughly as his hands slipped lower, skimming over the curve of her hip, then circling to the front, splaying his fingers on her stomach. “For it to never stop.”

She felt a slight hesitation as his hand explored her, the way her body had changed after the babies still bothering her a bit. Adam stopped, his hand still on her abdomen, and he drew back to look at her. “What?”

She felt foolish and vain, but she told him the truth. “I wish…” She bit her lip, startled at the tears that burned behind her eyes. “Oh, shoot,” she muttered, falling back to stare at the ceiling. “I wish I worked out ten hours a day and jogged every morning.”

“You do a lot more just taking care of the babies,” he said, so close to her that his breath played warmly across her bare breasts.

She was shocked that she hadn't thought of the babies for a while. She'd forgotten to remember, and that brought her up short. “Do you think I should call Grace?” she asked as she twisted toward him, their legs tangling together.

“No.” The single word came out abruptly, then he softened it. “It's only been a few hours, and she's got the number here.”

“I know, I know, but what if—”

He touched her lips with two fingers, hushing her completely. “Maggie, love, stop it. Twenty-four hours. The two of us. Remember?”

“I remember,” she said, trying to focus, to regain that feeling from just moments ago.

“I thought you said I could do anything I wanted to do,” he whispered, and moved, startling her when his lips
found her nipple. It peaked immediately, and she groaned spontaneously, her thoughts jumbling from the pure pleasure of his touch on her. “I want to do this,” he murmured against her skin, and his hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of her hip. “And this.” He touched her stomach again, then slipped lower. “And definitely this.” He breathed hoarsely as he found her center.

He pressed his hand against her, moving slowly, and she arched against his touch without even thinking about what she was doing. Every thought was gone. She wanted him. She needed him. Then his fingers slipped into her, and she gasped, lifting her hips to meet his hand. She felt him deep inside her, then he was gone, and in the next instant, he was over her, and she felt him against her again. His hard strength touched her, tested her with its velvety heat. Then, as she wrapped her legs around his hips, he pressed into her, deeply and completely into her.

Both of them were motionless for a long moment, savoring the sensation, the oneness, then Adam was moving, slowly at first, then faster, a pace that matched her aching need for him. She met him, over and over again, feeling that building of ecstasy that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. Until the apex came. The final thrust, that instant when there was nothing between the two of them, when for a split second in eternity, she melted right into Adam and became one with him.

She heard a voice cry out and knew that it was hers, the pleasure beyond anything she could absorb, the climax together, pure sensation and release. Then she was with Adam, tangled with him, holding him, the rain beating outside and his heart beating against her cheek. The babies had been conceived on a night like this, that one time in all those months when their lovemaking had been intense and spontaneous, without any mention of the thermometer
or it being “the right time.” They'd come to relax, and they'd ended up making the babies.

She snuggled closer to Adam, holding him, loving him for being a part of the five tiny lives. But even as she rested with him, she had to fight the urge to call home and check on those lives. So tiny, so fragile. She felt his breathing start to even out, and she made herself lie there. She made herself close her eyes, and she made herself try to not think about anything but the moment.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't sleep, and she couldn't get past the niggling feeling that something could be wrong, that the babies might need her. She felt Adam's heart against her cheek, felt him take one easy breath after the other. He was sleeping, and all she could think of was being so far from the babies.

Grace would call her, she told herself. She'd promised. Then thunder tore through the cabin, followed by the brilliance of lightning flooding the bedroom. What if the phones were out? The cell phone was in the car. Maybe the cabin phone hadn't even been hooked up. She should have checked. She should have made sure.

She waited as long as she could, then eased back from Adam. She'd just check. And if the phone didn't work, she could get the cell phone. Adam would never have to know. He'd sleep, and she'd be back before he woke and knew anything about it. She'd just make sure.

Adam woke to soft darkness, rain beating against the cabin windows and an empty bed beside him. He shifted, felt coolness in the sheets, then opened his eyes and pushed himself to a sitting position. “Maggie?” he called through the shadows as he looked around. The room was empty, and it was night. The rain was really coming down, and a damp chill was in the air.

“Maggie?” he called again. Nothing.

He got up, and without bothering with any clothes, crossed to open the bathroom door, but Maggie wasn't there. He turned, listening, but couldn't hear anything. He went to the bedroom door, opened it but only found shadows, chilly air and the echoing sound of rain beating on the windows. No Maggie.

“Maggie?”

Nothing.

For a moment Adam had the real fear that Maggie had gone, that she'd driven off back to the house. The he saw that the front door was ajar. As he started for it, he heard footsteps on the porch, then the door was pushed open and Maggie was there.

With the stormy night at her back, she looked almost
waiflike in the gray sweatshirt, bare legs and feet, her eyes deeply shadowed. “Where in the hell?”

She held up the cell phone. “The house phone is out, and I went out to the car to get the cell,” she said, coming in and closing the door.

“Why?”

“I told you, the house phone isn't working.”

She came closer, and he could see the way she was holding the phone, as if it were her lifeline. “What's going on?”

“I just…” She bit her lip and was so close that he could catch the scent of her in the air. “Adam, I was going to call Grace,” she said, then added quickly, “just to check.”

She tilted her head, watching him, trying to read him, and all he could think of was he sort of liked her short hair now. It exposed the sweep of her neck when she tilted her head that way, an enticing invitation.

“I need to check, Adam,” she said when he didn't respond. “You can understand that, can't you?”

Of course he could, and he did. “Just what do you think's going on?”

“That's just it, I don't know.” She shrugged, a painfully vulnerable action of her slender shoulders. “I'm going to call,” she said, but didn't move to put in the number. She watched him with a touch of uncertainty.

Did she think he'd forbid her to call? Had he come across as that heartless? That pained him. “Go ahead and call,” he said, then added, “then we can get back into bed.”

He'd meant to be suggestive, to retrieve a trace of that passion that had been there between them so recently, but that didn't happen. Before he'd finished his statement, she
was dialing the number to home on the cell phone and pressing the send button.

“Grace, it's Maggie. I just…” She glanced at Adam. “I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

As he watched her, he saw the uncertainty change. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth tightened. “What?” she asked with a touch of tension in her voice.

He went closer, catching her eyes, motioning to the phone. “What's going on?” he whispered, but she barely looked at him.

“Exactly what did he say?” she asked.

She listened intently, and when Adam laid his hands on her shoulders from behind, he felt her jerk with shock. She twisted, looked at him, then spoke into the phone again. “I knew it. I shouldn't have…” He felt her release a shuddering breath. “I'll be there as soon as I can.” She closed her eyes tightly as she listened for a brief moment before saying, “I said I'll be there.”

She hit the end button, dropped the phone on a chair then slipped out of Adam's touch and headed to the bedroom. “What's going on?” he asked, going after her.

She didn't stop, but spoke over her shoulder. “Jackson's sick. He's got a fever and…” Her voice was lost when she disappeared into the other room.

He ran, getting into the room to find her putting on her jeans. “Sick?” he asked, his heart hurting from the shock and fear of thinking that one of the babies was sick, that he'd forced this outing on Maggie and this had happened. “What's wrong?”

She pushed her legs into her jeans, zipped the zipper and started looking frantically around the room. “My shoes, where are they?” she asked, and dropped to her knees to look under the huge poster bed.

“Maggie, stop and tell me what's going on.”

“I told you, Jackson's sick. I have to get back there.”

She stood with her boots in her hands, then sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. Adam grabbed his jeans and put them on, then turned to a frantic Maggie who could barely push her feet into her boots. He crossed to her and dropped to his haunches in front of her. “Stop and explain this to me. How sick is he? What is it? What did the doctor say?”

She kept lacing her boots, not looking at him at all. “Sick. He's got a fever and he's flushed and he's crying.” She stopped and looked at him. “I could hear him crying,” she whispered. “I need to get back to him.”

She tried to stand, but Adam stopped her by pressing his hands on her shoulders, holding her down. “What did the doctor say?” he said, trying to keep calm.

“Grace put in a call for him.” She tried to get free of his hold. “We can't waste any time. We'll talk in the car.”

“No, you sit still and take a deep breath. I'll call Grace and then we'll figure out what to do.”

She twisted to free herself. “Adam, what's to figure out? Jackson's sick, and we can't waste any time.”

She slipped past him so quickly that he barely had time to move out of her way to keep from being pushed backward. He got to his feet and followed her into the great room, almost running into her back when she stopped abruptly and turned to him. “Where's my purse?”

“In the car,” he muttered, before saying, “Let me call Grace,” as he picked up the phone.

“Call anyone you want to call,” she said, her face slightly flushed. “But do it while we drive, okay?”

He motioned to the windows and the rain. “It's pouring out there. If we don't need to go, let's not do it.”

“What?” she gasped, looking as shocked as if he'd said that he was an alien. “Not do it? Just not go?”

He held up one hand, palm out. “I didn't say that, but give me one minute before we go running out into that storm. Just give me one minute?”

“He's sick, Adam, and he's so tiny, and I'm not there. I don't know why you're arguing with me.”

“You think I'm not scared about this? God, after everything we went through to have the babies. I'm scared spitless, but I want to figure it out. I want to—”

“Do whatever you want, but I'm going,” she said and turned from him, half running toward the entry.

He went after her, catching up as she opened the front door and a blast of cold, damp air burst into the cabin. She headed for the car, stopped by the passenger door and turned to him. “Are you going to come?”

“Maggie, look around you,” he said, pointing to the stormy night. “It would take hours to get back to the house,
if
we could even get through. The roads are going to be a mess, and you know how the roads get in heavy rain this time of year.”

He might just as well have been talking to the wall for all the good his logic did. Maggie pulled the door open, climbed in the passenger seat, then turned to him. “Are you coming?”

He held up the phone. “One call.”

She closed her eyes, scrunching them tightly, the way a child would who was angry or upset. “Okay, okay,” she muttered. “Just do it, then you'll see, and we can get going.”

He quickly dialed home. The phone rang once, then Grace answered and he heard the sound of crying in the background.

“Grace? It's Adam. What's going on?”

“Adam. Thank goodness you called. I didn't mean to upset Maggie, but she asked, and I told her that Jackson's
fussy and got a bit of a fever. Nothing big. The doctor thinks it's probably just teething, told me what to do, and he'll be on call if things get worse.”

He felt a partial easing in his chest. “You think that's it, just teething?”

“I'd bet it is. The doctor seemed pretty certain.” The crying was almost drowning her out. “He's not a happy camper, but he's got great lungs.”

“Maggie's pretty upset,” he said, a real understatement. He watched her in the car. Hands clenched in her lap, her eyes shut, her head and shoulders shaking slightly from tension. “I just wanted to check and make sure we didn't need to head back.”

“Oh, honey, no, don't do that. Babies get sick. It's part of the growing process. And you and Maggie need to be there. You need time. Your dad's worried, and so am I. Just stay put, and I promise I'll call if anything changes.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling a huge weight lifting off him as Grace spoke. “Call if there's any change, otherwise, we'll be back around noon tomorrow. Okay?”

“You got it,” Grace said, then hung up.

Adam looked at Maggie in the car. “Get out and come inside. Grace says that things are okay.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“Jackson's got a fever, and he's probably teething, and that's not life and death.”

She didn't move. “How does she know that?”

“That's what the doctor said.”

“The doctor saw him?”

“No, but he called and they discussed it, and that's what he thinks is going on.”

“A phone conference? That doesn't mean anything. It's a guess.”

“An educated guess.”

She leaned toward him earnestly. “It's a guess, and if I were there, I could tell. I know my babies. I really know them. A mother's supposed to, and I do.”

“Maggie, stop it.”

“Adam, it could be serious. You know how careful we had to be when they first came home. How…how delicate they were, and they still are. We can't just let it go.”

“Of course we can't. But Grace will be with him, and if things change, she'll call.” He held out his hand to her. “Come back inside with me, please?”

She looked at his hand, almost recoiling from it. “We have to go home.”

“No, we don't. We've got our time here, and Grace is—”

“She's not his mother, Adam,” she almost yelled at him. “We have to go back.” She gulped in air. “I have to go back.”

He had thought getting her here would be a turning point, that time together would make her realize what they had was precious and fleeting and that they could balance their life with the kids. But in that moment he knew that was all a dream, his dream. He loved her and always would, but he didn't have her. Not even after being so close to her physically. He didn't have her, and he desperately wanted to have her and hold her forever. He drew back his hand and felt as if he'd lost the biggest gamble of his life.

“No,
we
don't,” he murmured.

Thunder and lightning cracked around them, and the light was colorless and dead as she said, “I'm going to our child. Are you coming with me?”

He stood very still, looking at her and aching for what wasn't there anymore, blotted out by her obsession. “No. And I want you to stay here with me.”

“Adam, don't, please, don't.”

“Don't what? I want you with me. I want you here, and there's no real emergency, and it's storming out here.”

She bit her lip hard. “I can't be that selfish.”

“Selfish? Selfish? What in the hell are you talking about?” He was almost yelling. “You think I'm being selfish, being reasonable?”

“I don't know, but I know that I can't think of myself…or of you. Not when Jackson is so sick. That's not what a mother does. That isn't what a mother should do.”

He understood. He didn't doubt her great love for her children. She'd almost died to get them into the world. But this went way beyond that and in an entirely different direction. “That's it, isn't it? It's always the same. She walked out and left you. She turned her back and was never there for you, not when you were sick or well. So you're going to be there, even if it's just for sniffles? Even if Grace can do anything you can do? Even if we've spent most of the last year never taking any time for ourselves?”

“We came here,” she murmured shakily. “We've had time together. And it was terrific, but now we can't just say, ‘forget everything,' and do whatever we want and damn the cost.”

“We aren't. We…” He went closer and touched her cheek, barely making contact with the tip of his forefinger on her cold skin, not trusting himself to make the touch any more substantial. “We are the core of this family, you and me, and if we don't make this work, there is no core.” He drew back. “There is no family.”

“Oh, Adam, that's not so. We've got time. The babies aren't going to be like this forever. They'll grow up and be wonderful people, but we have to be there for them.”

“We are, and we have been and we always will be, but what about their mother and father?”

She shrugged, an oddly fluttery movement of her shoulders. “We're here. And we're okay.”

“Are we?”

“Adam, please, this is a waste of time, we need—”

“Maggie, we aren't okay, and we haven't been for a long time. Dad knew, and Grace and Douglas.”

“You've been talking to them about us?”

“No, they talked to me.”

She took a harsh breath, then moved into the shadows of the car. “Are you coming with me?”

He stood back. “No, I'm not.”

She hesitated, then shifted to the driver's seat and fumbled to get her key out of her purse and into the ignition. “I'm sorry about tonight,” she said as the car roared to life. “We'll have time later, when the babies are okay.”

“Don't count on it,” he said, grabbing the open door and leaning in toward her. “All we've got is right now.”