For The Twins' Sake

Her future was in her arms. In the carrier beside the sofa. Her children. Hours ago she’d had only a son. Now she had twins.

Take the blessing and let that fill you, she ordered herself. Because letting herself get caught up in anger over the past—recent and not so recent—would only hold her back. She had a family to raise, money to earn, a life to start.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the other photos on the mantel, surprised to see one of her and Noah in their caps and gowns, their high school graduation. They’d both worked at the Circle D then, a prosperous ranch a half hour away. Sara had lived there as the foreman’s daughter, and Noah was a hand. But a month later, when he turned eighteen, Noah had moved there too, so upset by the conversation he’d had with his dad a half hour earlier that he’d gone off alone. Sara still didn’t know what had gone on during that discussion.

The other photos were of his siblings, the six of them together when Noah was sixteen. They’d still come home to celebrate his birthday, though they’d refused to have Christmas at the ranch with their dad and had flown Noah to one of their homes instead.

There was a photo of his mom, a pretty brunette with blue eyes who’d died when he was ten, something that had brought Sara and Noah even closer. They never had to talk about how awful it felt to miss your mother, to wish she were there. They just knew and could be together, quiet, skipping stones in the river, throwing bread to the ducks, climbing trees and sitting up there for hours.

She missed the Noah he’d been three-quarters of the time—even to the very end of their relationship two years ago. She missed that guy so, so much.

And she’d missed this cabin. She turned to look around. She had so many memories here, so much history. She knew every nook and cranny, which floorboards creaked on the stairs, how many steps it was down to the creek (182), how she’d sat on her bed in her room upstairs, writing Sara Dawson in hearts in her journal like the lovesick teenager she’d been.

“Where’s my sweet baby girl?” a woman’s voice called cheerily through the front screen door, followed by a set of knocks. “I need my Annabelly time.”

Sara froze. Oh God. Who was this?

Noah’s wife? Girlfriend?

“Noah? You here?” the feminine voice called.

Sara bit her lip. Should she go to the door? Pretend she wasn’t here?

Curiosity got the better of her, since this woman might have helped Noah take care of Annabel the past seven weeks. Maybe, in fact, she’d done all the work. That was more likely.

She went to the door, and her heart soared. It was Daisy Dawson, Noah’s only sister.

“Daisy!” Sara said, hearing her voice break and not caring. Her long honey-brown hair in a braid practically to her waist, a straw cowboy hat on her head, pretty, sweet Daisy had been a good friend from childhood until Willem had isolated Sara from everyone she used to care about. Daisy was also at least six months pregnant.

“Whoa—Sara?” Daisy asked with a shocked grin, pulling open the screen door and coming inside. She glanced at Annabel in Sara’s arms. “This is a huge surprise. Did you come for Dawson’s grand reopening?” Before Sara could even respond, Daisy added, “That rascal Noah—he didn’t even tell me you two had gotten back in touch. God, Sara, it’s so good to see you. You look amazing. So healthy and glowy. Is Noah here or did he have to step out to deal with something?” Daisy touched a finger to Annabel’s cheek. “I’m so glad you got to meet my beautiful niece. Isn’t she precious?”

My beautiful niece. Sara’s knees buckled.

Sara tightened her arms around Annabel, more out of instinct than because she was worried she’d really drop to her knees.

Her every emotion must have been showing on her face, because Daisy tilted her head and looked at her. “Sara? You okay?”

“Not really,” Sara said. “Not by a long shot. I’ll be okay, though.”

Daisy put a hand on Sara’s arm, her warm blue eyes filled with concern. “How about we go talk in the kitchen? I know I could use a cup of decaf. I actually could use a big mug of real coffee. But I’m limiting myself to one cup a day, and I had that.” She patted her belly.

Sara glanced at Daisy’s left hand. No ring. She wondered what the story was there as she followed Daisy into the kitchen. Daisy always used to talk about wanting to be a mom one day, but she was insistent on picking the right guy so she’d never get divorced like her parents had, let alone thrice divorced like her dad. Sara had once pointed out that you could pick the right guy, as her own mother had, and leave him a brokenhearted widow at age thirty-six. You just never knew what life was going to throw at you.

As Daisy headed for the coffee maker, reaching for two mugs in the cabinet, Sara found her attention taken by the refrigerator door, all the things hung up with magnets. There was a checklist of baby-proofing essentials. A cutout newspaper ad for a local grandmother of five who did hand embroidery personalization on baby clothing and blankets and towels. The American Academy of Pediatrics’ recommendations for feeding and napping schedules.

“Noah loves Annabel, doesn’t he,” Sara said, more a statement than a question, her voice sounding far away to her own ears as she stood in front of the fridge. “I can tell. I knew it as soon I saw him with her in the Snugli.”

Daisy tilted her head. “Of course. He loves that baby girl to pieces. Did you hear the crazy story? How someone left her on his porch right before that terrible rainstorm just about two months ago? There was a note that said the baby was his. He had no reason to doubt it. He even insists Annabel looks like him, but I don’t see it. Don’t tell him I said that!” She laughed and pressed a button on the coffee maker.

Sara almost smiled at the thought of Noah thinking Annabel looked like him. Once upon a time, when she’d still held out hope for marrying Noah Dawson and having a family with him, she’d always pictured little Noahs, two or three, with intense blue eyes and wavy dark hair, mischievous grins and big hearts.

“Daisy, I have a crazier story,” Sara said. And told her everything. Not leaving a detail out.

Daisy was an expressive woman to start with, but the range of emotions that crossed her face was something. “Oh my God, Sara.”

Sara nodded.

“Can I be really happy for you and really sad for my brother at the same time?” Daisy asked. “He must be out of his mind right now knowing you’re going to take Annabel away.”

Take Annabel away. Sara’s stomach flipped over. She’d never really thought of coming to get her daughter as taking the baby away from someone. But now she kept seeing the look on Noah’s face as he’d taken Annabel out of the carrier and handed her over.

It was anguish.

Oh, Noah, she thought. This part of the story never would have occurred to me.

This whole time, from the moment the lawyer had read Willem’s awful letter, Sara had only focused on the fact that her daughter was alive, that Willem had taken her to Noah’s cabin. She’d never stopped to think about what had happened between then and now. Sara had just wanted to find her child and reunite.

But Noah had taken her in, had been raising her as his own, as he believed she was.

And that anguish on his face? Yes, he loved the baby.

Daisy poured two mugs of coffee and then opened Noah’s fridge. “Ooh, half a pecan pie. I think we’re gonna need a little of that too. Maybe a lot. Am I right?”

“Probably,” Sara said. “I’m not sure if I can eat a bite of anything, but since when don’t I stress eat?”

Daisy nodded sagely and grabbed the pie and the container of half-and-half, and Sara brought over the mugs to the table. By the time Sara sat down and took her third sip of the coffee and her second bite of pie, an idea had started forming in her mind.

An either really good idea or a really bad one. She truly wasn’t sure.

Noah barely heard what his ranch hand was saying about the hay bales, but the guy was smiling, so Noah smiled back and nodded. Two days before the grand opening was no time to have his mind elsewhere, but every cell in Noah’s body was focused on his cabin. And what was going on in there.

He knew, actually. Sara was reuniting with the daughter she’d never gotten to hold. Never gotten to meet, let alone know.

And soon she’d text him that she was ready for him to come back so they could talk, so he could fill her in on the last seven weeks.

So he could say goodbye to the baby girl he’d taken care of. His daughter who wasn’t.

The pain gripped his chest again, and he sucked in a breath.

“You okay, boss?” Dylan asked, adjusting his cowboy hat as he peered at Noah. “You don’t look so good.”

“A-okay,” Noah assured him. “So everything’s in order in the main barn. What about the petting zoo?”

Dylan nodded, his mop of blond bangs shifting. “We’re all set. I did inventory this morning. We won’t need to place orders till Tuesday. Layla’s feeding the farm animals now.”

Noah nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He’d hired several experienced hands for the land and animals and knew he could let go for a little while to deal with what was going on with Annabel.

He walked the quarter mile to his cabin and saddled up Bolt, riding her out to the gate a half mile down the gravel drive. He stopped and patted Bolt’s flanks, staring at the hunter green metal that stretched across the road, Dawson Family Guest Ranch in gold letters, the silhouettes of a cowboy and a cowgirl on horses on either side. His grandparents had made belt buckles with the logo to sell in the gift shop, and one Christmas, he’d had six personalized with the grandkids’ names. Noah still had his. In fact, he kept it on his desk, always had, and the past five months the buckle had served as a talisman, a lucky charm.

And for the past seven weeks, Annabel’s presence had spurred him on to go even farther with making sure every detail of the ranch’s reopening was perfect. This was going to be her future.

Now she wouldn’t be part of it. She wouldn’t be around at all.

His phone pinged with a text, and he reluctantly took it from his pocket. The sooner Sara was ready for him to return, the sooner she’d leave. With his baby.

But it was Daisy texting him.

U ok? Where R U? Heard whole story from S in the cabin.

At the gate, he texted back. No, not OK.

She texted back, Be right there.

A few minutes later, Daisy rode up on her bike. She jumped off, one hand on her belly, and threw her arms around him.

“Sara’s going to take her away,” Noah said, letting his sister comfort him for a second before pulling back. He stared out at the woods beyond the road. “Just like that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy said. “You know I love that baby girl.”

“At least Annabel will be with her mother. And Sara will be with her daughter. I should focus on that. She got her daughter back. It’s a friggin’ miracle.”

Daisy nodded. “It is.”

“And I guess Annabel as a Perry and not a Dawson will have every creature comfort, certainly more than I could ever provide.” He knew the Dawson Family Guest Ranch would do well; he was already booked for the weekend and had bookings stretching all the way to fall. Not every cabin was filled for every day, but word of mouth would spread, and the ranch would be a big success. He believed it. But he’d never be able to give Annabel the life Sara could as richer-than-rich Willem Perry’s widow.

“You know what’s crazy, Daize?” he said. “My heart’s been broken before, so I know what that feels like. This feels like that.”

His sister put her hand on his arm. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Sara two years ago. But maybe you can stay in touch, visit Annabel.”

He could just see it now. “Uncle” Noah coming to visit every couple of months, bringing a stuffed animal. How could he become Uncle Noah when that baby had changed his entire life and world? She’d turned him into a father, something he wouldn’t have seen coming in a million years. And dammit, he’d been good at it. Another shocker.

His phone pinged with a text, and his heart sank.

Come talk?—Sara

He stood there, his head hung, unable to move.

“I’m so sorry, Noah,” his sister said again. “I know how much you love Annabel.”

Even he hadn’t known just how much he loved that ten-pound little human until this moment. More than he’d ever realized.

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