Adventures In Parenthood

It wouldn’t quite be real until she’d told her sister. Brianna alone knew how much this meant. With the sponsorship, Aubrey’s blog—Extreme Adventure Girl: Ordinary Girl on an Extraordinary Journey—would reach thousands more women—hell, millions—and change more lives.

Calm down. It’s not official. The test run would be at the adventure race in Utah next month. Still, she was so close she could taste the triumph.

She was especially glad to tell Brianna because of the odd talk they’d had on their mother’s birthday—they always called each other then—right before Brianna left for Tahoe and Aubrey for Norway.

Brianna’s question had come out of the blue:

You’re sure this is what you want—the blog and the travel and all?

Aubrey had sucked in a shocked breath. Of course. This is what I’ve worked for. You know that.

Aubrey’s blog and her podcast shared her trips and challenges, mostly outdoors. Her purpose was to prove women didn’t have to be amazons or athletes—or even that coordinated—to achieve difficult challenges. The secrets were training, tenacity and guts.

The women who followed her lead became empowered. They found the courage to break up with bad boyfriends, demand raises, go to graduate school, snatch stars they’d thought out of reach. Aubrey was proud to have had an impact on their lives.

I’m saying you don’t have to push so hard, Brianna continued. If you wanted to quit, have a family, go to school, whatever, you can. You’ve done more than Mom could ever have wanted.

Their mother’s bedtime stories had been tales of all the places she’d biked, hiked, climbed and kayaked before she’d had them. They’d lost her to breast cancer the summer after they graduated high school.

Where is this coming from? Aubrey had asked, her stomach bottoming out at her sister’s abrupt doubts about Aubrey’s chosen path. Brianna was her number one fan. I feel like you’re out there for Mom and for me, she’d always said. Now she wanted Aubrey to quit?

Then it hit her. Wait, it’s the money, huh? You know I’m running short. You don’t want me to feel bad if I have to quit and get a regular job, right?

I just want you to be happy.

Relieved, Aubrey had rushed on. You don’t need to worry. I might have big news when I see you. I have a meeting about a possible sponsorship.

Brianna had been excited, but after they got off the phone, Aubrey still felt a shiver of unease. That wasn’t the whole story. Her sister had sounded melancholy. She’d mentioned wanting to find their grandparents, who’d been estranged from their father, who’d been killed in a ski accident before Aubrey and Brianna were born. The girls need more family.

Brianna did have a point. Their other grandparents were gone—their grandfather at forty due to diabetes, their grandmother two years later from pneumonia.

The conversation had gnawed at Aubrey until she finally figured out what was going on with Brianna. She misses you. She’s lonely. The family the girls need more of is you.

Once she’d figured it out, Aubrey burned with the need to fix this, to make it right, to be there for her sister...and for her nieces.

How had she been so blind? Shame flared hot on her face. She’d fooled herself that the Skype chats and occasional visits had been enough.

They grow up so fast, Brianna always said. She’d been gently warning Aubrey, and Aubrey had missed it completely.

Brianna always filled Aubrey in on the cute things the twins said and did, sent Aubrey videos of them at gymnastics and martial arts—classes Aubrey had paid for. They didn’t need more classes from their aunt. They needed more time with her. It made her ache to think that Brianna had held back her feelings for so long.

Aubrey knew why. Brianna understood the pressure Aubrey was under to keep her blog fresh and interesting. To keep her advertisers, Aubrey needed thousands of people glued to her blog and downloading her podcasts. That meant constant travel, research and training. Stay fresh or die was a fact of life in the blogosphere, where it was rare to make a living wage.

Brianna had been too understanding. Aubrey would visit more, starting with this trip.

“Meow.” Her cat, Scout, offered up an opinion from her spot on the passenger seat, where she sprawled to catch the sun that shone on her spotted fur. She was a Belgian leopard cat—a blend of domestic cat and Asian leopard. Scout was brilliant and bold, and could practically read Aubrey’s mind. Because she went with Aubrey on her adventures, usually tucked into a special pocket in Aubrey’s backpack, her fans had dubbed her Scout the Adventure Cat.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she said to her doubtful cat. The ALT sponsorship would escalate her travel schedule, add promotional appearances and other obligations, but it had to be done.

Scout gave a disdainful blink of her topaz eyes.

“I’ll make it work,” she insisted. Family matters most.

Determination caused her to sit taller, drive faster. She’d set off for Phoenix right from the ALT corporate offices, stopping only to grab gifts for the girls, along with flowers, champagne and an anniversary card for Howard and Brianna, as well as a new burner phone. She’d lost hers somewhere in the snow-packed fields of northern Norway. Aubrey went through phones like tissues.

Scout didn’t look convinced. Aubrey projected far too many human emotions onto the cat, but in her mind, a good cat was worth three bad boyfriends any day.

Scout was worth double that.

Not that Aubrey had had all that many boyfriends, bad or otherwise. She had fallen in love only once. Rafael Simón was a freelance travel writer heavy into extreme sports. They’d seen each other for nearly a year. Aubrey had broken it off once it was clear they wouldn’t work out.

Aubrey rubbed her grainy, sandpapery eyes. She was bone-tired and jet-lagged from the flight from Norway.

She finished off the last of her third energy drink, tossed the empty can onto the floor of the backseat, where it rattled against the ice chest containing the champagne.

Maybe they sold caffeinated date shakes at the Date Ranch Market—the halfway mark to Phoenix. She had to stop to get the girls’ favorite treat—the special red licorice only available there—and to use the huge, sparkling restrooms. When they traveled, Scout usually did her business hidden by trees, but Scout liked the Date Ranch facilities, even though people gawked and exclaimed over a cat using the toilet.

Aubrey sat up straighter, widened her eyes and blew out a breath. Stay awake. Think about the girls.

She’d love to bring Brianna and the twins on her adventures. In a couple of years, they could handle a white-water raft trip on the Colorado. Howard would likely have to be talked into it.

He was cautious and overprotective anyway, but the plain painful truth was he didn’t trust Aubrey with his girls. It had started when she made the mistake of buying sparkler birthday candles for their second birthday, excited to see the girls’ surprise and delight. Instead, the sparks had stung their cheeks. Sienna had shrieked and Ginger cried. The next day, Aubrey had offered to watch the girls while Howard and Brianna went out to dinner and she’d overheard Howard tell Brianna he wasn’t comfortable leaving the girls with her.

He hadn’t liked the bikes and helmets she’d bought last year, either. She’d confirmed on her blog that four-year-olds could ride bikes, and she’d gotten the proper sizes and everything.

It hurt that he thought she would endanger the girls, but he would come around over time. She hoped he’d like her anniversary gift as much as she knew Brianna would. Through one of her advertisers, Aubrey had gotten a great deal on an adventure trip for two in New Zealand, a haven for outdoor recreation, with breathtaking scenery. Aubrey would watch the girls while they were gone. The only hitch had been that Brianna and Howard would have had to buy the plane tickets, and she knew they saved every extra dime for their agency.

But now, with the sponsorship, Aubrey could buy their tickets, too! She smiled, thinking how delighted Brianna would be. She’d give them the gift right off, not wait for the party.

If her timing was right, she’d reach Phoenix not long after Brianna and Howard returned from Tahoe.

She couldn’t wait to make it up to her sister and her nieces for the time she’d lost with them. She was as determined and driven as she was when she faced a new adventure. She couldn’t wait to see her sister’s face when she opened the door and saw Aubrey on the porch, gifts in hand.

CHAPTER TWO

SIX HOURS LATER, Aubrey parked in front of the Craftsman bungalow where her sister lived. Thank God she hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel. Scout had sensed her drifting a couple of times and meowed in warning.

Whew! Made it. Cheated death again.

She smiled at the thought. She always said that to herself when she’d met a difficult physical challenge. It meant she’d pushed past fear and doubt, taken the risk, the leap and made it out alive. She always felt amazing afterward. Her nerves tingled, her skin hummed. Colors were brighter, the air fresher, smells so much sweeter.

Her adventures weren’t always death-defying. More often, they were mental risks. Each win was a step up the ladder, a notch on her belt, a memory added to the stack. If she died tomorrow, she’d have enjoyed every minute to the fullest.

Shake every thrill from life. That had been her mother’s advice to her and Brianna. She’d made them both promise to do it.

Aubrey had absorbed the advice to her bones.

Because her mom had died of breast cancer, Aubrey had always feared that the disease ticked away inside her, marking off the months, weeks, minutes she had left. It was part of what drove her so hard. Do it now. Don’t waste a second. Do it before cancer blooms in you like a toxic flower. Brianna worried about cancer, too, but more quietly.

Scout meowed, eager to go. Aubrey unzipped the hard-sided carrier so her cat could jump in, closed it, put the strap over her shoulder and got out of the car, wincing as her new scabs protested the change in position. She had a bruise the shape of Scandinavia on her hip, along with scrapes from falling on the ice during the race. Reindeer were unbelievably fast, and the hairpin turns had scared the crap out of her. She’d squealed and yelped the whole way, but she refused to be embarrassed.

The whole idea of her blog was to be real—to share her worries and fears, her mistakes and pains. If Aubrey could do it, her readers would see that they could, too, shrieking all the way.

She slipped the gift-bag loops over her wrist, lifted her well-scuffed roller bag out of the cargo hold, tucked the flowers under one arm, grabbed the handle of the small ice chest in her other hand and trundled up the walk, Scout hanging at her hip.

The gift bag held in-line skates for the girls, who were just old enough to have the required balance. She’d bought boy skates—dark blue and much cooler than the babyish pink ones for girls. Why did manufacturers infantilize girls? She’d done a blog rant on the topic around Christmas time that three major news outlets had picked up.

She had her mountain bike with her, so she’d ride bikes with the girls while she was here. She’d bet money Howard had installed training wheels she’d have to take off.

Her sister’s neighborhood was modest, the house small, but so well cared for it practically glowed. With its sunny yellow paint, friendly porch swing, and crowd of bright flowers in brass pots, the place matched Brianna’s personality. Her sister made a house a home, for sure.

Aubrey glanced back at her car—an XTerra she’d chosen for its rugged versatility. Her tough, mud-spattered vehicle and her sister’s cozy, flower-bedecked house reflected their different styles. Aubrey was the restless soul, Brianna the settled heart.

At the door, she saw someone had left a foil-covered cake pan on the mat. Maybe Aubrey had beat them home. That was fine. The babysitter—Jessica, who lived next door—was probably there with the girls. If not, Aubrey had a spare key.

She knocked, smiling in anticipation, expecting her nieces.

But it wasn’t the twins who stood in the doorway. It wasn’t Brianna or Howard, either. It wasn’t even the babysitter.

It was Dixon. Howard’s brother. Her heart lurched like it did each time she’d seen him since the humiliating incident at the wedding.

He was good-looking, for sure, with strong features—a straight nose, square jaw, generous mouth and serious eyes so dark they seemed black. He was built like a tennis player—tall and lanky with broad shoulders and long, strong arms—and he moved with an athlete’s grace.

In a flash, she remembered him carrying her down the hall to her hotel room. He’d slapped in the key card, then kicked the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. It was as if he wouldn’t let any barrier keep them apart. She’d felt a thrill that totally erased the pain of her ankle.

Except instead of throwing her on the bed and making love to her, he’d put ice on her ankle and left, shutting the door he’d so hotly kicked in moments before with a soft click. Damn. Just thinking about it pissed her off again.

“Aubrey?” He sounded surprised and not happy to see her.

Ouch. “I’m early,” she said, though she had every right to visit her sister whenever she wanted. “They’re not back?”

“No. They’re not.” The words seemed to desolate him. She noticed his eyes were bloodshot, his jaw rigid, his mouth grim. Something’s wrong.

He glanced behind him, then pulled the door closed, joining her on the porch. “The girls are eating,” he said as if that were a legitimate reason to keep her outside. What the hell was going on? He seemed shaken, as if he’d heard terrible news. Terrible news he was about to share.

A chill washed over her. Scout gave a mournful yowl, either picking up Aubrey’s tension or wanting out of the carrier. Aubrey set it down, along with the gift bag and the ice chest, taking the flowers from under her arm. Three daisy petals drifted to the porch, white on white, snowflakes landing on a drift.

“What’s the matter?” she asked faintly.

“I tried to reach you, but I got voice mail. I left a message.”

“I lost my phone. For God’s sake, tell me what it is.” Goose bumps moved in a wave down her body. She felt colder than when she’d tumbled over the crusted snow pack on that final turn in Norway.

“You should sit.” He motioned at the porch swing. “It’s bad.”

“Just say it.” Her legs wobbled, so she stiffened them, refusing to give in to weakness.

“Brianna and Howard were in an accident coming back from Tahoe.”

She gasped.

Dixon swallowed, as if it would take effort to say more.

“And...?” she prompted him. Get it out. Tell me. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

“They were killed.”

“No. No.” Her insides froze. Her brain locked down. That couldn’t be right. Was this a joke? Had her ears tricked her? They were buzzing now. “What? They...what? No.”

“The doctor said they didn’t suffer. Their necks... It was quick.” He snapped his fingers. She saw he was blinking a lot. He was going to cry? Stable, solid Dixon Carter? Oh, God. It was true. This was no joke.

“They’re dead? Brianna’s dead? No. No. No. No.” She shook her head violently. Her wobbly legs went liquid and she staggered, one foot landing in the middle of the foil-covered pan. Gooey liquid leaked over the sides. She smelled tuna fish and Lipton soup. Tuna casserole? Who even made that anymore, let alone gave it to someone? was her stunned thought.

Focus. Think. What did he say again? I can’t breathe. I feel sick. I can’t throw up in front of Dixon. I can’t move. It was like someone had shoved a pillow onto her face, punched her in the stomach and tried to electrocute her all at once.

Dixon caught her arm to keep her upright. She gasped for air.

Don’t faint. Don’t puke. Don’t lose it.

But she seemed to be dissolving from the inside out. The terrible sound of a human in agony filled the air. As Dixon pulled her into his arms, she realized it was coming from her.

Her heart was shredding, her lungs bursting, her brain going blank. Brianna was gone...lost...forever. Aubrey would never see her sunburst smile, feel her hug against her heart, know she was there, sharing their twin souls.

When she finally realized she was bellowing in the man’s ear, she made herself stop and backed out of his arms.

She had the wild urge to run, to escape, to do something big and physical. She’d felt this way when their mother died. She’d run to the park, taken the obstacle exercise track through the trees for endless hours until her legs had given out and she’d collapsed on the grass, fighting for oxygen.

It hadn’t helped. The heartbreak had followed her. She knew there was no use running now, so she sank onto the swing. It rocked forward, toppling the ice chest, so the lid fell off. Ice spilled and the gold foil on top of the champagne emerged. She saw she’d dropped the flowers, too. Red roses and white daisies. Fresh and romantic. She’d been so happy when she’d bought them, so eager to celebrate her own news and Brianna’s anniversary. Now the flowers seemed fragile, damaged, ruined.

“There must be a mistake. It can’t be,” she said. Maybe she couldn’t run, but there had to be some escape from this horror.

“I’m sorry.” He crouched in front of her, steadying the swing with his hand, as if he sensed her dizziness.

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago. The hospital called me at work. I arranged to have them flown here for the funeral.”

“The funeral. I can’t... I don’t... A funeral?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “The girls!” Her eyes flew open. “Do they know?” Ginger and Sienna had lost their parents. Another wave of horror washed over her.

“Not yet.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to explain it properly. I called a counselor at Bootstrap for advice, but she hasn’t picked up the message. They’re eating now and—”

The door burst open. “Uncle Dixon—” Sienna stopped short when she saw Aubrey on the bench. “Aunt Aubrey?” Sienna surveyed her with the same blue eyes Aubrey herself had. Her hair was the same strawberry-blond, straight and shiny, though not as sun-bleached as Aubrey’s.

“It’s me.”

“You came already!” Ginger’s eyes went wide. They were dark like her father’s and mother’s, and her wheat-colored hair curled like Brianna’s.

“I did,” she said shakily. Get it together. Calm down. The girls don’t know. Don’t scare them. Be strong for them. A band of ice water—as if she’d stepped into a mountain stream—gripped her rib cage and there seemed to be a golf ball stuck in her throat.

Sienna spotted the casserole with Aubrey’s footprint in the foil. “Eww. Someone stepped in it.”

“I did.” Aubrey lifted her foot as proof, glad of the distraction. “Sorry.”

Sienna bent to study the blob that had squirted out. “It’s good you wrecked it. It’s got peas.” Sienna made a face. “Everything Ms. Wilder makes has peas. Yuck. Jessica hates it, too, but we can’t agree with her because it’s not polite.”

“You dropped your flowers.” Ginger picked them up, then noticed Scout’s carrier and got down to look through the mesh window. “Hi, Scout.”

The cat meowed a greeting. Scout loved the girls, tolerating their aggressive attention, even as toddlers, when they would haul her around like a stuffed animal. Most cats would have hidden under a bed, but Scout was made of tougher stuff.

“Can I take her out, Auntie Aubba?” Auntie Aubba had been Ginger’s toddler name for Aubrey. Aubrey loved that she still called her that.

“In the house...sure.” Aubrey pretended to cough to hide her shaky voice. Ginger’s innocent eagerness was painful to hear.

“I get to do it, too,” Sienna said, grabbing the handle while Ginger put the strap over her shoulder. “You have the flowers.”

“You take the flowers. I thought of Scout first.”

The two girls had a tug-of-war, but managed to get the carrier and the flowers into the house, only losing a few more petals. They were so excited, so lighthearted, unaware of the dark train roaring from the tunnel to plow into their tender lives.

“Guess we should go in,” Aubrey said, putting the lid on the ice chest, picking it up, along with the gift bag and her roller bag handle.

Dixon stopped her with a warm hand on her arm. “You need a minute out here?”

She shook her head. “Let’s get this over with.” She preferred to remove bandages with a quick rip, not a slow, agonizing tug.

“I don’t want to tell them yet,” Dixon said. “I’ll try Constance again.”

She didn’t see the sense in that, but she didn’t want to argue with the man. She’d hardly absorbed the news herself. Dixon grabbed the ruined casserole and held the door for Aubrey, who walked into the house on legs gone numb. At least she no longer felt her Norway scrapes.

In a glance, she surveyed the living room, with its overstuffed sofa and love seat in a floral pattern, the jewel-toned area rug on the polished oak floor, the play corner with toys in bright buckets. Such a happy place. Such a happy family.

Gone now. A gloom seemed to fall over the room, dimming the colors, making the toys shabby, the furniture cold.

She turned to Dixon, and their eyes met. He looked sad and lost. Exactly like her. She turned to the girls and dropped to her knees. “I need hugs.” She held out her arms, hoping she could keep from crying. Sienna gave her a quick, hard squeeze. Gymnastics and martial arts had turned the girl into solid muscle.

Ginger wrapped her thin arms around Aubrey’s neck and clung to her, giving Aubrey time to breathe in her feather-fine hair, which smelled of bubblegum shampoo, French fries and the sweet salt of little-girl sweat.

When Ginger let go, Aubrey wanted to say, I love you, I missed you, I’m so glad to see you, but her throat was too tight.

“Why are you crying?” Sienna asked, staring at her with her sharp blue eyes.

“I’m just happy to be here.”

“Happy doesn’t make you cry,” Sienna insisted.

She wears me out, Brianna had said about Sienna. She won’t let any question go unanswered. She probes and pokes and demands. Just like you used to.

“Better let Scout out,” Aubrey said to shift Sienna’s attention.

Ginger was already at the zipper.

“No fair,” Sienna said. “You carried her. I get to unzip.” Sienna was clearly the take-charge twin.

The carrier open, Scout jumped out and shook herself indignantly, wiggling each paw, then her tail.

“She prefers to come to you,” she reminded them.

“We know,” Sienna said. The girls sat poised, hands out, eyes so eager Aubrey had to smile. Scout obliged them by delicately sniffing their fingertips, then rubbing her cheek against them.

“She remembers us,” Ginger said. “She’s showing us she loves us.”

“She’s putting her smell on us,” Sienna said. “It’s animal in-stink. That’s what Jessica says. Cats and dogs are animals. They don’t do people things like cuddle and kiss and love.”

“Scout does,” Ginger insisted. “Look in her eyes. That is l-o-v-e, love.”

Aubrey remembered a similar disagreement with Brianna, who’d been convinced that the ducks at the park recognized them, while Aubrey was certain they only saw bread crumbs. Brianna had always had more heart than Aubrey.

The night their mother died, Brianna had held their mother’s hand and whispered to her. Brianna had been there, brave and strong. Aubrey had run away. It still shamed her.

Scout jumped onto Aubrey’s lap. The cat stayed close when Aubrey was upset, purring wildly as if to soothe whatever ailment Aubrey suffered.

“Will she do her tricks for us?” Ginger asked.

“She’s got to get familiar with your house first.” Scout could give a high-five, fetch things, drink from a glass and play dead.

Aubrey’s thoughts began to buzz like angry bees. It can’t be true. Brianna can’t be dead. The girls can’t go through this. Please, no, Brianna. We can’t go on without you.