The Firefighter's Twins. Heidi McCahan
on either side of her, and he was too tired to fight them.
“I’ll fix their milk.” He trudged to the kitchen, side-stepping the mess on the floor.
Once their sippy cups were full, he returned to the den. Mom was halfway through The Little Blue Truck. Aiden’s eyelids drooped, and Liam had already fallen asleep.
She touched a finger to her lips and then kept reading. When she’d finished, Shay carried first one boy and then the other to their room. Although they had separate cribs, they’d refused to sleep apart. He settled them both in one crib, turned on the monitor, night-light and music box. Tiptoeing out of the room, he closed the door behind him. What a day.
In the kitchen, Mom stood at the counter, ladling beef stew onto a plate. “Have you had supper?”
He shook his head. “No. The boys did, but I didn’t get a chance.”
“I’ll warm this up. Would you like some bread? I brought rolls.”
“You didn’t have to do all that. What’s Dad eating?”
She waved him off. “I’m happy to help. You need to eat, son.”
His mouth watered. In the weeks after Monica’s sudden departure, the anger and confusion were all-consuming. People brought meals, but most of it ended up in the garbage. Now, almost a year later, he craved real food again. He could sit at the table with the boys and not let the empty fourth chair bring him to tears.
Mom slid the plate into the microwave.
“You didn’t answer my question. Where’s Dad tonight?”
While his supper reheated, she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice and water. He waited. The set of her shoulders indicated she didn’t want to talk about it. But they never talked about it. That was the problem.
“He has plenty to eat. Don’t worry about him.”
“Mom, if you coming here is an issue, I can hire a nanny.”
The microwave beeped. “Don’t be silly. I love coming over.”
“But Dad doesn’t.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and carried his plate to the table.
He followed, gently placing his hand on her arm. “I’m serious. I hired help in Virginia, and I can do it again here.”
“Nonsense. You don’t need strangers watching the boys. That’s what grandmothers are for.”
“Not when it aggravates the grandpa.”
She offered a sad smile. “Don’t you worry about your father. I trailed him all over creation for years with the military. This is how I want to spend my retirement. He understands.”
“But he doesn’t have any time for his only grandchildren.” Shay bowed his head and silently thanked God for his food. When he opened his eyes, Mom stared at the table, cupping her glass of water with both hands.
“He loves Aiden and Liam in his own way.” Her voice, thick with emotion, gave him pause.
Measuring his words, Shay spread a paper napkin across his lap. “At some point, he’s got to demonstrate that. They’re perceptive. They’ll start asking why Grandpa never wants to hang out with them.”
“Honey, we aren’t going to change your father. The best thing we can do is keep praying and creating opportunities for him to be involved.”
Shay speared a bite of meat with his fork. While her response carried truth and wisdom, it still stung. So far, Dad had avoided almost all interaction with the boys. He’d come by the house once, maybe twice, since they’d moved in. The complex web of hurt and guilt undergirding most of his interactions with his father wasn’t the boys’ fault. He wouldn’t let them carry the heavy burden of disapproval.
“Were you able to join that committee the young lady at the birthday party mentioned?”
Shay dipped his bread in the broth, pooling on his plate, too hungry to protest her deliberate shift to a new topic. “Yes. My first meeting was this afternoon.”
“Oh? How’d it go?”
“Great. Looks like the fire department will play a big role in the festival.”
“Wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be a tremendous help.”
“Hope so.” He also hoped he could find a way to get Natalie’s teasing smile out of his head. His thoughts had turned to her often. Too often. Dating wasn’t even an option. They’d lost so much when Monica left. While the thought of being a single dad forever planted an icy ball in his gut, bringing someone new into the boys’ lives was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
By the middle of the week, Natalie’s stomach was twisted in knots over the email from Forever Love, as well as the lack of progress on the service project. She paced the street in front of the unfinished house, her mind racing. Discarded candy wrappers and empty plastic water bottles littered the quiet space. Despite the community’s faithful commitment to help, they were woefully behind. At this rate, they’d have little more than a shelter to offer their chosen family.
She stopped pacing and glanced across the street to her family’s farm. Even though she’d read Karen’s email at least a dozen times, she still couldn’t believe it was real. The thought of telling her parents about the offer had squelched her initial enthusiasm. She’d conveniently avoided the conversation and kept the offer a secret from everyone. Maybe she needed to just get it over with. She fished her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and mentally rehearsed the call.
Hey, Mama. Got a minute? I’m thinking about selling Magnolia Lane and moving to...
Ha. That would not go over well. She sighed and shoved her phone back in her pocket. This was home. All she’d ever known, minus her years spent an hour away in Chapel Hill, at the university. Could she pick up and start over in Charlotte? If she said no, would she always wonder what if?
The uncertainty weighed heavily on her mind. Despite her own personal heartache, orchestrating weddings that exceeded brides’ expectations made her happy. Fulfilled. Their ecstatic smiles, and the groom’s expression when he saw his bride for the first time, made all her efforts behind the scenes worth it. Forever Love’s offer meant an end to juggling Magnolia Lane and the farm. An end to her constant frustration over turning away clients because she felt pulled in two directions. She’d always dreamed of planning weddings full-time. Was this finally her chance to pursue her dream?
Tires crunched on gravel behind her, and she turned around. Three pickup trucks had turned off the highway and approached, easing into a tight line on one side of the street.
Car doors slammed, and she counted six men reaching into truck beds and pulling out toolboxes, power saws and a portable cooler. The guy parked closest to her was the last one to get out of his truck. When his boots hit the ground, he grinned at her through the driver’s-side window.
Her pulse kicked up a notch. Shay?
The guys chatted back and forth while they hauled their tools and supplies toward her. She stared in disbelief.
“Hey, Natalie,” Shay called out, pausing to anchor his tool belt around his waist. “How’s it going?”
“I’m—you—why are y’all here?” Warmth flooded her cheeks as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.
“Campbell rounded us up.” Trent angled his head toward Shay. “He said you needed a little help finishing this house.”
“A little help?” She let out a wan laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
Shay grabbed a large