Taking on Twins (20 page)

Wyatt dipped his head and kissed her so tenderly, she knew that he'd forgiven her all of her stupid mistakes. And she had forgiven his. In that regard alone, Wyatt's trip to visit her had been a wild success.

 

The next morning, thousands of miles away in a small Mississippi town, Louise Smith awoke from a deep sleep, and for the first time in ten years felt supremely happy. Like a purring tabby, she stretched in her bed, yawning, enjoying the patch of sunlight that streamed through her
window and heated her back. Eyes closed, she strained to grasp the fleeting remnants of a truly lovely dream.

What was it, she mused as images flitted through her head. Mmm. Yes. There was a garden. But this was not just any garden. This was a special garden. One she'd dreamed of before. One she'd had a hand in creating, she was sure, as the flowers and plants all pleased her sense of color and fragrance. And there was the sound of water. Bubbling water.

She placed a hand on her furrowed brow and forced herself to remember. Why was this place so familiar? She knew this was a recurring dream, but that couldn't be all there was to it. She'd actually been there, she felt quite certain.

“…anyone fitting this description, please notify the authorities immediately. And now for the top-of-the-hour traffic and weather scene here's mean Jean Greene. Hey thanks, Bob, and a good morning it is, too. Right now it's a balmy seventy degrees outside and climbing. We've got a warm front moving…

The rude blaring of her alarm clock's radio distracted her for a moment until she could disentangle herself from her covers and slap the snooze button. Once she'd accomplished that, blessed silence reigned once more. Now, where was she? Oh, yes.

The garden.

She settled back into her pillow and upon closing her eyes, the garden came alive in her mind's eye once more. The tall, dark man was there again. That, she remembered. She always remembered the tall, dark man, because he gave her such a feeling of peace. Security. Happiness. Could this man represent her father? No…but whom?

Every time she had this dream, a powerful sense of relief
filled her, as if she'd been traveling for a long time and had finally arrived at her destination.

Outside her window, the trash men were kicking up a ruckus and she put her fingers in her ears and swallowed a shriek of impatience.
Auugh!
Why couldn't she get a handle on this elusive dream? Surely it was a key piece to the puzzle of her true identity.

Just as she was about to give up, toss back the covers and head for the shower, the fleeting image of the tall, dark man standing beside her in the garden materialized. She pressed her palms into her eyes and she could see him holding her hand. Yes, that was it! He was holding her hand and slipping a ring on her finger!

A ring?

She could recall the feeling of pure joy and utter contentment as she looked down at the two hands, hers and whose? Her husband? What else could it be? She strained to remember but, like an out-of-focus picture, she couldn't spot the details.

However, the feelings were suddenly acute. Nearly palpable.

Love. Deep, abiding love. She could feel it even now. This blurred man was her other half, her partner, the part that was missing from her heart. She yearned for him with a longing so strong her body physically ached.

Drawing her legs up under her chin, she lay curled into a fetal ball, fighting to remember.

Remember. Remember!
Remember,
damn it!

The last vestiges of the dream began to dissolve. Like a bad television signal, everything was breaking up. But before the image faded completely to black, she could tell that they were not alone in the garden. There were people gathered around her and the tall, dark man. Many people, enfolding them in warmth. In happiness. In love.

 

As Liza had hoped, the day of her wedding arrived in the tradition of California's sunny best. Temperate. Cloudless. The merest hint of an ocean breeze. The Hacienda de Alegria's lush central courtyard was a peaceful haven, fully decorated and ready for the impending nuptials.

A harpist was seated off to the left of the first row of seats and, as her fingers danced over the strings, Nick and Liza's family began to filter into the garden. Ushered to their seats by two of Nick's gangly, red-faced, tuxedo-clad, teen-aged cousins, the crowd grew until there were at least fifty family members and just about that many more friends. The excitement was electric and the audience buzzed quietly among themselves. For a moment, the murmurings stopped as Joe arrived with Meredith on his arm, and then, as they took their seats up front, the murmurings began again in earnest.

Annie felt almost as if she were hovering over this blessed occasion, rather than sitting on the bride's side, next to Wyatt, near the back. Heart pounding, head buzzing, stomach roiling, she clutched his hand until her knuckles turned white.

Wyatt looked at her with concern but Annie could only manage a weak smile in return. She glanced at her boys and gave silent thanks that, for once, they were exhibiting model behavior. There was absolutely no way she could handle it if they acted up now.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to somehow orient herself. It was the oddest thing. Almost as if she were having some kind of out-of-body experience. Near as she could figure, the raw terror that had invaded her body arrived last night, when Wyatt confessed his deep and abiding love.

With that pronouncement, he'd brought them to a “Y” in the road. It was him or her family and Keyhole.

Either way, a broken heart of gargantuan proportions was staring her in the face and she simply did not know if she had the strength to navigate another loss. Only in the last couple of years had she begun to live again. The boys were less work, the store was flourishing and she'd moved beyond her grief and into a rather bland, but nonetheless, peaceful existence.

Try as she might to calm herself, the more she thought about her own future, the more panicky she became. It was a horrible feeling and she was utterly helpless to control it.

Peering through her tunnel of fear and depression, she watched as Nick and his best man, Jackson, moved to stand under the gauze wedding tent. Moments passed and then the bridesmaids followed a tiny set of flower girls down the aisle. Behind them, a darling ring bearer, no older than three and clutching a heart-shaped pillow, stumbled up to stand by the girls.

The harpist began the wedding march and a sea of happy faces rose. Annie watched herself being propelled to her feet by some autopilot life force that seemed to be standing in for her at the moment. The only thing holding her upright was her death grip on Wyatt's steely bicep.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Mmm.”

“This bring up too many bad memories?”

“It's not that. I'll be okay. I just feel a little weird. Jet lag.”

“Oh.” Wyatt was not convinced.

Looking the picture of serenity, Liza floated down the aisle on her father's arm. Annie envied her this strength. This calm. This certainty of family and destination.

Why couldn't it be this simple for her and Wyatt? Why did life always have to be so blasted hard? Tears burned at the backs of her eyes and she struggled to fill her lungs
with air. Sometimes it felt like all she ever did was fight the good fight.

But damn it all, she was tired of fighting. Tired of healing. Tired of making decisions that were right for everyone but herself.

She rummaged through her purse and withdrew a tissue and joined a number of other people who were dabbing their eyes and discreetly blowing their noses. Fortunately, for different reasons altogether.

Annie shuddered with the heaviness of her sigh. She hadn't been this miserable since her own wedding.

The ethereal harp music reached a conclusion and Liza, looking for all the world like one of Grimm's beloved royal heroines, bestowed her father's ruddy cheek with a light kiss, and then turned to face her prince. Expressions glowing with love for each other, she and Nick moved to stand together before the altar.

Amid rustling and whispering, the audience was once again seated, and Liza and Nick began the journey that would take them through the rest of their lives together.

Annie fished her purse once more for tissues and came up with an empty tissue package, a ticket stub, a grocery receipt and some empty gum wrappers. Great. Running mascara went with her unruly hair, and that panicked deer-in-the-headlights expression she was sure she wore on her face.

Luckily, a woman seated at her side, who'd introduced herself and her husband as Elizabeth and Jason Colton, was on the ball and pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Her nine-month-old son reached for the lacy scrap, but missed and began to fuss. His father took him into his lap and the baby immediately quieted.

“Keep it,” the woman whispered. “I have a feeling you're going to need it.”

Annie nodded and, feeling utterly foolish but unable to control her emotions, dabbed and sniffed and blew her way through the minister's opening remarks. Coltons to the left and right of her sent knowing smiles and she returned them to the best of her ability with trembling lips. Luckily, they had no idea that her heart was breaking.

When the time came, Nick winked at the little ring bearer who labored to untie the ribbons that contained Liza's ring. When he'd accomplished his mission, he stood right there, between the bride and groom, staring straight up, absorbing the solemnity of the moment, as the groom slipped the small circle of gold on the bride's slender finger.

Neither Nick, nor Liza, seemed to notice the small child hadn't moved away.

Nick's mellifluous baritone resonated strength as he began to recite the vows he'd written for Liza.

“I, Nick Hathaway, take you, Liza Colton, to be my partner and wife. I promise before God and these witnesses to be your loving husband and friend. I will comfort you in sickness, rejoice with you in health. I will share in your happiness and success, and uphold you in sorrow.”

Temples throbbing, Annie ducked her head and watched her tears splash off her purse and drip onto her raw silk skirt. Wyatt squeezed her hand, but she was too weak with emotion to return the favor.

“I want,” Nick began, then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as if he couldn't quite believe that this moment had finally come. The deep love in his eyes for Liza was evident, even across the room, “I want to provide loving and sensitive leadership in our marriage that will leave a lot of room for individuality. I will help and encourage you in achieving the dreams and goals that God has given you. I pledge myself to you alone as a loyal companion. I
will hold you in my heart as long as we both shall live. I love you, Liza.”

Except for the occasional sniffle, for which Annie was mainly responsible, the room was silent. Holy. Filled with joy.

After helping the little ring bearer—who hadn't strayed from where he stood, directly between them—with Nick's ring, Liza looked up at her beloved and, in a voice strong and clear and filled with vitality and health, began her own vows.

“I, Liza Colton, do give myself to you, Nick Hathaway, before God and these witnesses, to be your wife and receive you as my husband. I promise you tenderness and love. I want to always treat you with sensitivity and understanding. I desire to always make decisions in your best interests. I promise to always be faithful and loyal, no matter what circumstances we may face.”

Annie bit back a sob.

“I want to dream your dreams, to be your best friend and loyal supporter and companion, to comfort you in sickness, rejoice with you in health. I will share your happiness and uphold you in sorrow. I pledge myself to you alone and trust you and hold you in my heart as long as we both shall live. I love you, Nick.”

The minister nodded, satisfied that the vows were completed, and the rings exchanged. “By the powers vested in me by the great state of California, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife. If you like, sir, you may kiss your bride in celebration.”

As Nick swept her into his arms, the ring bearer disappeared among the folds of Liza's voluminous satin and lace skirts where he remained, amid much laughter, until the ardent kiss was over.

T
he reception was being held in the great room, which truly lived up to its name in every sense of the word. A high stone hearth formed the room's central focal point and casual leather couches and mission-style furnishings created a comfortable atmosphere for entertaining. Today, every spare square foot was set with lavish tables, both inside the great room and on the giant patio beyond the dozens of wide, glass doors.

Annie watched her boys join some other children who were darting through the milling throng and normally, she would have cautioned them to be careful, but she simply did not have the energy. The mental fortitude. The will to drag herself through the rest of this extravaganza, let alone scold her rambunctious offspring.

Fantastic floral arrangements, ice sculptures, champagne fountains, along with endless buffet tables loaded with every conceivable delicacy decorated the filled-to-bursting
great room and patio. Already several hundred people had arrived after the wedding, and more were expected as the evening progressed.

Nick and Liza had been hugged and kissed within inches of their lives in the receiving line, and were now moving about the dance floor, lost in a haze of their love. Over in one corner an orchestra played lively music from the Big Band era, and already, the party was hopping. Waiters and waitresses worked the crowd, delivering fluted glasses of champagne to the adults and sparkling cider to the children. Gourmet hors d'oeuvres designed to tickle the most distinguishing palate were also making the rounds, while those with a heartier appetite jumped into the buffet line.

Rumor had it that the party would be going on until well past midnight, which was not unusual, given the history of social events at the Hacienda de Alegria.

Annie only hoped she could make it through an hour or so without coming completely unglued. By sheer grit alone was she holding onto her fragile sanity. She knew she had to get away. To be completely alone to think and pray and grope for answers to her future before she would begin to feel even a tiny bit better.

At the moment, however, that was impossible.

People were interested in meeting and carrying on meaningless conversation with Wyatt's date, and so she had to rally. To rise to the occasion. To discuss the beautiful weather with the best of them.

“Actually, I think the horizontal stripe on the mother of the bride's dress is quite flattering.”

“Yes, I love living in Wyoming. And yes, we have a car. It's actually quite modern.”

“No offense taken. I know people are curious about the circumstances of my late husband's death. But no, he was much closer to my age than that.”

“Why, thank you. But, no. Wyatt is not their father.”

“Hard to tell in this light. You might want to have it appraised. Unless it's a costume piece, antique stones any larger than a walnut are usually kept in a vault.”

“No, I'm not insinuating that your grandmother's brooch is fake. Only that you take great care with a jewel of such size.”

“Yes, I've seen the way he looks at her.”

“I'm sure they will live happily ever after.”

She wanted to scream.

And, when she caught Wyatt's eye, she knew he was concerned. He was so sweetly solicitous, and rescued her from more than one endless conversation, but she didn't want sympathy. She wanted answers, damn it. She wanted to know what the heck she was supposed to do with Wyatt's undying love when he lived halfway across the stupid country.

She needed an aspirin.

She sighed.

She needed a shrink, but she'd settle for an aspirin. Tapping Wyatt on the arm, Annie politely excused herself and headed for the nearest powder room.

 

“Enjoying yourself?”

Jackson looked up from the hors d'oeuvre tray to see Meredith sidle up next to him, wearing a phony smile. She was carrying two glasses of champagne, which he figured might account for the flush in her cheeks.

“It's my sister's wedding. Of course I'm having a good time.” He eyed her with suspicion. “Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself. That and to take a moment to bury the hatchet between us.”

Between us, Jackson wondered sourly, or in me? “Why?” he asked again.

“Because,” she simpered, pouting, “I hate it when there are hard feelings. We are usually such a close-knit family.”

“Meredith, I hardly know you anymore.”

She lifted a delicate shoulder. “Be that as it may, I still want for us to be bosom friends. The way we used to be. When you were a little boy. Here.” She held out one of the glasses she carried.

Jackson stared at her.

“C'mon,” she cajoled, “take it. Drink with me. To friendship. To family.”

Jackson ground his back teeth and forced himself to mentally count to ten. He could hardly refuse her when they were surrounded by so much happy family. Besides, making a scene on her wedding day would hardly be fair to Liza. Hating himself for giving in to this viper's wishes, he took the glass from her and waited.

Meredith pouted. “Forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For our little disagreement the other morning. You caught me at a rather bad time, and I'm so sorry. I simply don't know what has come over me lately. I think I'm just so terrified of hurting Joe.” She pulled a full, rosy lip between her teeth and studied her glass for a moment. “I'd do anything to protect him. That includes making sure that he never finds out that our son is really—” she lifted her lashes and glanced over the rim of her fluted glass until her gaze landed on Graham “—his.”

Jackson snorted. “Blackmail is not the answer.”

“You're right, of course.” Carefully arranging her face to appear contrite, Meredith nodded. “There's a better way of handling all this, I'm sure.” She held up her glass. “In any event, I'm sorry. For everything. I made a terrible mis
take, and I'll spend the rest of my life dealing with the consequences. I can only beg your forgiveness.”

Jackson glanced away from Meredith and watched his sister glide around the dance floor on a cloud of love. The last thing he felt like doing was bestowing this witch with his forgiveness. But it was probably the right thing to do. This day, of all days, was a day to unite families. Feeling as if he had no choice, he gave a curt nod.

Meredith held her glass to her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, then took a sip. “To friendship and new beginnings.”

Jackson brought his own glass to his lips as he continued to watch Liza flirt with Nick. “I'll drink to new beginnings.”

 

Annie returned from the rest room to find Wyatt deep in conversation with Lucy and Rand. Deciding not to interrupt, she forced a bright smile to her lips and stood just far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough to still feel as if she were part of the group. She took this quiet opportunity to further attempt to collect her runaway emotions.

It was the wedding.

It had to be.

Weddings always brought out the high emotion in people. Annie was no different. Worse, maybe, considering her own unfortunate foray into matrimony. But still, none of that explained the nausea, the dizziness, and the inability to simply breathe.

In the powder room, she'd run cold water on her wrists and taken the quiet time to give herself a pep talk, but it wasn't really working. If anything, she was more of a wreck than ever. Last night, as she'd lain tossing in her bed she'd
considered each possible scenario and come up wounded at every turn.

She could feel Wyatt getting ready to propose, and once he did, there were only two answers she could give.

Yes, she could rip her children away from her mother and sell the store that had been in her family for generations and follow Wyatt to the big, scary city and miss Keyhole for the rest of her life. Or no, she could stay single and spend the next two or three years climbing back out of a pit of depression over another broken heart. And then, miss Wyatt for the rest of her natural life.

She needed to go lie down. And stay down until she woke from this nightmare.

“Excuse me…”

Annie looked up at Jackson Colton's rather wobbly approach, and at first she thought he was trying to make the melancholy girl in the corner smile with his silly antics. He held his hand out in front of his face and stared intently at it for the longest moment, then held it out to her.

“Can you tell me, does my hand look really huge to you?” He glanced up at Annie, concern lying just under his lopsided grin.

Annie returned his silly grin. “Is this a trick question?”

Jackson pushed his hand right up under her face. “For pity sakes, woman, look at it! My fingers are Polish sausages! My palms are like—” he stared intently at his palm “—they're like hams. Say, look at that! They are so far away. And huge. They sort of have a life of their own.” He grew pensive. “I'd never really noticed that before this very minute. Our hands have lives of their own.” Slowly, his gaze floated back to Annie's face. “My hands have left. I have to go follow them now.” He paused. “You are really beautiful, did you know that? Really, really beautiful. Like an angel.”

“Uh, thank you.” Annie stared uncertainly at him. She didn't know Jackson very well, but this did not seem at all right. Yesterday he was the picture of charm and success, and now… It was almost as if he were having some sort of breakdown.

She knew she should be grateful. By comparison, she seemed to have it all together.

Jackson staggered forward and draping himself heavily over her shoulder, began to root around in her hair with his nose. Like a dog in search of a bone, he snuffled and emitted noisy guttural groans of pleasure. “You have great hair. Really, really wonderful stuff. Smells like…a meadow.”

“Oh, Wyatt?” Annie hated to break into whatever deep discussion he was having with Rand and Lucy, but she figured that at the moment, this was more important.

Still speaking in hushed tones, Wyatt turned and blinked, as if suddenly remembering Annie was there. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just talking about you.” He frowned as he noticed Jackson's face buried in her hair.

“All good, I hope,” she chirped. She batted at Jackson and attempted to shrug him off her shoulder. Jackson's hand roved down to settle at her hips. She smacked them off. “Jackson. Jackson, dear, I think I've found your hands.” Eyes wide, she mouthed a message to Wyatt.
I think he's drunk.
She lifted a worried brow.

“You found my hands?” Jackson's voice was dreamy.

“Yes, and they are being a little naughty. Perhaps you'd better put them away.”

“Can't.”

“Why not?”

“They are too big for my pockets. And they keep getting out. They are growing boys.” Jackson's hands snaked around Annie's middle. “See?”

At the narrow look in Wyatt's eyes, Annie gave her head
an imperceptible shake. Jackson was out of it. Trying to reason with him on any normal level would prove fruitless, she was sure.

Rand and Lucy exchanged puzzled glances with each other, and then with an unamused Wyatt.

“Jackson, honey, why don't you show your hands to Wyatt?”

“I love it when she calls me honey,” Jackson announced. “Isn't she beautiful? Hair like fire. Fire. C'mon, baby, light my fire.”

“Jackson, Wyatt wants to see your hands.” Annie pulled her lips into her mouth. It looked as if Wyatt wanted to lop his hands off.

“Why? Is he a doctor?”

“I'm a lawyer, cousin.” Wyatt took a step closer.

“Oh, right. So am I! I'll sue! I'll sue the hand people. I haff defective hands. Jus look ah tha damned things. They're huge! Like a couple a damned Christmash turkeys.” Jackson frowned. “Do my slurs sound word to you?”

“Jackson?”

“Yesh, Dr. Wyatt?”

“How much have you had to drink, guy?”

“One li'l glass of champagne. Thass all. I think…”

Luckily, no one but their immediate group seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to Jackson's antics, with the lone exception of Meredith.

“Hello.” Her smooth, beautifully modulated voice took sudden command of their little group as she approached. Smile wide, her gaze flitted about, bouncing off Jackson whenever he managed to stumble into her sightline. “So, I see our Washington D.C. faction is huddled over here, sticking close together.”

“Just enjoying each other's company, Meredith,” Wyatt said with a grim smile.

“I'll bet.” Meredith tipped her head and tapped a cherry nail on her chin. “So, what have we been talking about?”

“Oh, this and that.”

“And my freakin' hands,” Jackson put in, once again lost in the enormity of his appendages. He fell off Annie and wobbled over to Meredith. “Look at 'em! They're huge. And so far away! I could get you thumbthing from tha food table, if you want. I don' even half to walk over there. My hands will go.”

Annie glanced at Wyatt, then to Rand and Lucy.

“You don't look so good, honey.” Meredith placed a delicate hand on Jackson's flushed brow. “Perhaps you should go lie down.”

“You'd like tha, wouldn' ya?” Jackson nuzzled her neck. “My auntie Meredith. Wants to take a nappie with her boozoom buddy.” He reared back and looked at her, then allowed his eyes to take a meaningful dip. “Speaking of huge, my, what big—”

Abruptly, Wyatt reached for his cousin, supporting him and turning him toward the exit. “How about some fresh air, buddy boy? That might fix you right up.”

Meredith placed a firm hand on his arm. “No, Wyatt, you have a guest. I'm the hostess. Jackson is my responsibility.”

Jackson flailed about, throwing off Wyatt's hold. “I'm nobody's sponsor. I have to go find my hands now. The regular size ones. Sho, if you will all excush me, I'm just going to go to my room and get them now.”