Evergreen Springs

Two months ago, everything had changed. First had come a call from his ex-wife. She and her current boyfriend were heading to Reno for a week to get married—her second since their stormy marriage ended just months after Ty’s birth—and Sharla wanted him to meet her in Boise so he could pick up the kids.

Forget that both kids had school or that Cole was supposed to be at a horse show in Denver that weekend.

He had dropped everything, relishing the rare chance to be with his kids without more of Sharla’s drama. He had wished his ex-wife well, shook hands with the new guy—who actually had seemed like a decent sort, for a change—and sent them on their way.

Only a few days later, he received a second phone call, one that would alter his life forever.

He almost hadn’t been able to understand Sharla’s mother, Trixie, when she called. In between all the sobbing and wailing and carrying on, he figured out the tragic and stunning news that the newlyweds had been killed after their car slid out of control during an early snowstorm while crossing the Sierra Nevada.

In a moment, everything changed. For years, Cole had been fighting for primary custody, trying to convince judge after judge that their mother’s flighty, unstable lifestyle and periodic substance abuse provided a terrible environment for the children.

The only trouble was, Cole had plenty of baggage of his own. An ex-con former alcoholic didn’t exactly have the sturdiest leg to stand on when it came to being granted custody of two young children, no matter how much he had tried to rebuild his life and keep his nose out of trouble in recent years.

Sharla’s tragic death changed everything and Cole now had full custody of his children as the surviving parent.

It hadn’t been an easy transition for any of them, complicated by the fact that he’d gone through two housekeepers in as many months.

Now he had his sister to take care of. Whether her ankle was broken or sprained, the result would be more domestic chaos.

He would figure it out. He always did, right? What other choice did he have?

He picked up a National Geographic and tried to find something to read to keep himself awake. He was deep in his third article and the kids on to their second Christmas special before the lovely doctor returned.

She was every bit as young as he had thought at first, pretty and petite with midlength auburn hair, green eyes that were slightly almond shaped and porcelain skin. She even had a little smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Surely she was too young to be in such a responsible position.

He rose, worry for his sister crowding out everything else.

“How is she? Is her ankle broken? How are the babies?”

“You were right to bring her in. I’m sorry things have been taking so long. It must be almost the children’s bedtime.”

“They’re doing okay for now. How is Tricia?”

Dr. Shaw gestured to the chair and sat beside him after he sank back down. That was never a good sign, when the doctor took enough time to sit down, too.

“For the record, she gave me permission to share information with you. I can tell you that she has a severe sprain from the fall. I’ve called our orthopedics specialist on call and he’s taking a look at her now to figure out a treatment plan. With the proper brace, her ankle should heal in a month or so. She’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks, which means a wheelchair.”

His mind raced through the possible implications of that. He needed to find a housekeeper immediately. He had three new green broke horses coming in the next few days for training and he was going to be stretched thin over the next few weeks—lousy timing over the holidays, but he couldn’t turn down the work when he was trying so hard to establish Evergreen Springs as a powerhouse training facility.

How would he do everything on his own? Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

“The guest room and bathroom are both on the main level,” he said. “That will help. Can we pick up the wheelchair here or do I have to go somewhere else to find one?”

The doctor was silent for a few beats too long and he gave her a careful look.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

She released a breath. “Your sister also appears to be in the beginning stages of labor.”

He stared. “It’s too early! The babies have to be too small.”

Panic and guilt bloomed inside him, ugly and dark, and he rose, restless with all the emotions teeming inside him. She shouldn’t have been outside where she risked falling. He told her she didn’t have to go out to the bus to pick up the children. The stop was only a few hundred yards from the front door. They could walk up themselves, he told her, but she insisted on doing it every day. Said she needed the fresh air and the exercise.

Now look where they were.

“We’re monitoring her condition and I’ve been in consultation with the best ob-gyn in the valley. We’ve given her some medication to stop her contractions and put the brakes on. It’s been less than an hour, but so far it seems to be working.”

He sat back down, relief coursing through him. “Okay. Okay. That’s good. Isn’t it?”

“It’s still too early to tell. We have to keep her overnight up on the obstetrics floor to continue monitoring fetal activity.”

“Sounds wise.”

She paused for a long moment and he tried to sort through her silence for whatever else she might not be telling him.

“There’s a chance she might have to stay longer. I just want to make you aware of the possibility. She’s a complicated case—multiple births are always a little tricky. Add in an ankle injury that’s going to make it tough for her to get around at home and possible premature labor, and her chances of needing hospital bed rest go up. I’m consulting with the ob-gyn but that’s one of the options hanging out there.”

Hospital bed rest. Damn. Could things get more complicated?

“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

She glanced at the children, then back at him. “You’re all welcome to go back and talk to your sister. I think she’s feeling pretty alone right now.”

He nodded and rose again. “Thanks. Kids. We can go back now.”

“But, Dad! This one is almost over!” Jazmyn exclaimed. “Can’t we wait ten more minutes to see the end?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. First she didn’t want to watch the show; now she didn’t want to leave until she saw the end.

That just about summed up their life together. She was never happy with anything he did. If he made pancakes for breakfast, she insisted she wanted French toast. If he tried, in his fumbling way, to put her hair in pigtails, she told him she wanted a ponytail that day.

It was driving him crazy—and he had a feeling that was part of the reason both women he had hired to help him had lasted only a few weeks.

The doc gave him a sympathetic look. “If you’d like, I can stay with the children for a few minutes until the show is over while you have a moment alone with your sister.”

Her thoughtfulness surprised him. In his experience, physicians weren’t usually so solicitous. “It’s just a TV show. She can catch it online later. I’m sure you have other patients to attend to.”

“Right this moment, no. You actually caught us on a slow night. I’ve got to answer a few emails, which I can easily do out here while you talk to your sister for a few minutes.”

He hated needing help. It was the toughest thing about being a single father, but in this case, he decided it would be stupid to argue.

“Thanks. The minute the show is over, you can send them back.”

“No problem. I’ll buzz you back. She’s in room two.”

She swiped her name badge across the door and he walked back into the emergency department. He found the room quickly. Inside, he found his baby sister looking pale and frightened, hooked up to a whole bunch of monitors.

He hurried over and kissed her cheek. “How are things?”

“I’ve been better.” She shifted positions on the bed to try for a more comfortable spot, something that couldn’t be easy given her advanced condition. “Did you talk to Devin?”

“Briefly.”

“So she told you the ankle isn’t broken.”

“Yes. And that you’re in premature labor.”

“The beginning stages, anyway. So far the contractions have stopped.”

“What happens if they start again?” He didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’ll probably be transferred to a bigger hospital in Boise with a higher level obstetrics department and larger newborn intensive care unit. Even if they don’t start again, I’ll likely be put on strict bed rest from now to the end of the pregnancy.”

“Are the babies okay?”

Her mouth quivered a little. “They seem to be. They’re not in distress or anything, at least for now.”

“That’s the important thing. That you’re all okay.”

Her eyes filled up with tears and her hands scrunched up the edge of the blanket. “Their lungs aren’t fully developed yet. They’re still so tiny. If they’re born now, there’s a chance they’ll have to be on ventilators and might even have brain damage. Premature babies have all kinds of complications.”

“Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet.”

“I should have known I would screw this up, too.”

He reached for her hand and gripped it in his, helpless and worried.

“You need to call Sean and let him know what’s going on.”

Tricia’s mouth trembled slightly until she straightened it into a thin line. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Trish.”

“No. Don’t go all big-brother protective and call him. Stay out of it. He made his wishes perfectly clear. He never wanted to be a father. He doesn’t want these babies and he doesn’t want me. If you call him, I’ll never forgive you. I mean it.”

Cole wanted to tear his hair out—or his brother-in-law’s, at any rate. What he really wanted was the chance to take the man to some secluded canyon and beat the shit out of him for whatever he had done to devastate Tricia enough to walk away from their life together in California.

As tempting as it was to jump in his truck and drive from Idaho to California, violence wasn’t always the solution. Cole would just end up in prison, which wouldn’t help anyone.

Arguing with Tricia only served to make her dig her heels in harder, something she was very good at.

He sighed. “I’m only going to say this one more time, and then I’ll let it drop. These are Sean’s kids, too. However mad you might be at him, I believe he has the right to know what’s going on with the three of you.”

“Lecture duly noted,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze. Feeling like an ass at the tremble in her voice, he squeezed her fingers.

“You’ll be okay, kiddo, and so will those little lima beans in there. I have a good feeling about this.”

She sniffled a little and gave him a watery half smile. “Devin is admitting me. I guess she probably told you that.”

“Do you trust this doc? You said you know her from way back, but is that the most important thing here? I’ve been in my share of emergency rooms when I was on the circuit and I do know you have the right to be transferred by ambulance to a bigger hospital in Boise if you want another opinion, maybe from somebody who’s watched a little more water pass under the bridge.”

Tricia shook her head. “I don’t want anybody else. I know she’s young but I trust Devin. In fact, I’m going to ask her if she’ll deliver my twins when the time comes, unless they end up coming early and I need a specialist.”

“Why? You haven’t seen her in years. You know nothing about her on a professional level.”

“I’m not a complete idiot. Everybody who comes into the room raves about her, from the nurses to the receptionist to the ob-gyn we consulted.” She held up her smartphone. “I also looked her up on Google, and she has excellent reviews online.”

“And being married to a tech guy, you know you can certainly trust everything you read online.”

“I trust my gut. That’s the important thing.”

He shook his head. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have.”

The woman had been very kind to stay with the kids—which reminded him that he needed to find them before they became wrapped up in another show.

“Are you okay here? I’m going to go grab the kids and get them some dinner, and then we’ll be back.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine tonight. Take the kids home to their own beds and I’ll be in touch with you in the morning with an update.”

“Are you sure? I don’t feel good about leaving you here by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. To be honest, after all this excitement—plus the medicine they gave me—all I want to do is sleep.”

That didn’t completely convince him, but he didn’t know what else to do but take the kids home to preserve as much routine for them as possible. He couldn’t spend all night in the waiting room with them, especially if Tricia didn’t need him.

“You’ll call or text me right away if anything changes, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“If you send me a list of what you need to be more comfortable, I can run it back tonight.”

“Just my bag from the car.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve had an emergency hospital bag packed for weeks. Even before I came out here, I brought it with me to Idaho and grabbed it on impulse on the way out the door this afternoon. It’s got my phone charger, a robe and some slippers and a couple of magazines I’ve been meaning to get to.”

This didn’t surprise him. Tricia was just about the most organized person he knew. It was what made her brilliant at her job as director of a nonprofit charity in San Jose.

“I’ll grab your bag. If you think of anything else, call me.”

To his alarm, she started to tear up again. “I will. Thank you, Cole. For everything. You’ve always been the one person I can count on in this world.”

He managed not to snort his disbelief. She must be on some serious drugs if she could say something so ridiculous. He hadn’t been around when she needed him. First he had been too busy partying on the circuit, then he had been paying the price for all that hard living. A good chunk of their relationship over the past decade and a half had been long-distance.

He couldn’t repair all that he had done. If he had learned one thing in prison, it was the lesson that a guy could only fix what was in front of him. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You know I love you, squirt.”

“I do.”

“Your only job right now is to take care of yourself and those little spudnuts in there, got it?”

“Is that an order?”

“If that’s what it takes. Just rest. I’ll be back in a minute with your bag.”

“Thank you.”

She leaned back against the pillow, looking pale and fragile. Her foot was up on pillows and her big abdomen stretched the sheets.

He again fought the urge to find her SOB husband and knock some sense into the man. Barring that, the only thing he could do was bring her bag back and then take care of his children.

CHAPTER TWO

“THAT WAS A good show,” the adorable boy declared when the closing credits to the animated Christmas show on the television started to roll.

His sister gave a dismissive shrug. “I guess. I thought the elf was kind of stupid. I mean, why didn’t he just give the girl’s letter to Santa in the first place instead of trying to answer it himself because he was trying to be such a big deal?”

“People can make all kinds of crazy choices in stories,” Devin pointed out. “If Elvis had given the letter to Santa, the story would have ended there and he never would have learned to care more about helping other people than about how important he looked to them.”

“Maybe.”

Jazmyn looked doubtful, not particularly swayed by Devin’s thoughtful analysis on the nature of elves in fiction and the character journey of this particular elf.

“When is Aunt Tricia gonna be done here so we can go home?” the girl asked. “We haven’t even had dinner yet and it’s almost Ty’s bedtime. I’m okay, but Ty is starving. He has to keep his blood sugar steady or he gets crazy.”

“I do not,” Ty protested.

“You do. That’s what Mom used to say all the time, remember?”

“I guess.” He looked upset at the reminder. From what she had seen, the boy was extremely sweet, with those big soulful dark eyes and endlessly long eyelashes. “I guess I am hungry.”

“If your dad doesn’t come out in a few moments, I’ll grab some crackers and cheese for you. Maybe that will hold you over until you can get some dinner.”

“But when can Aunt Tricia go home? Is she done with the ’tractions?” Jazmyn asked.

“Did she have to get a big cast on her leg?” Ty asked before she could answer his sister. “My friend Carlos broke his arm on a trampoline and had to get a big cast. It’s camel-flage.”

“Camouflage, you mean,” Jazmyn corrected him.

“That’s what I said.”

“Your aunt has to stay the night so we can take care of her leg—which isn’t going to need a cast but will probably be in a brace that she can take on and off. I’m not sure if we have one in camouflage but I can see.”

“What about her babies?” the girl asked. “She’s not going to have them tonight, is she?”

Devin hoped not. “I don’t think so. They’re a little too small right now.”

“She’s having a boy and a girl,” Ty informed her. “The boy is going to be Jack and the girl will be named Emma. That was my grandma’s middle name. I never met her because she died. Aunt Tricia said I can hold them anytime I want.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a big help.”

“I’m going to. She said I could even feed them a bottle if I wanted.”

“Lucky.”

“You don’t even know how to feed a baby a bottle,” his sister said skeptically. “I do. I fed you when you were little.”

Since Jazmyn was only a few years older than her brother, Devin doubted the veracity of that claim, but she wasn’t about to call her on it.

“With two babies, there will be plenty of chances for everybody to hold them and feed them.”

“Don’t talk about food because I’m starving,” the girl moaned dramatically.

“I’m sure your dad will be out soon to take you back to your house for some dinner.”

“It’s not my house,” she muttered.

“It is so,” Ty argued. “Dad said so. We live with him now.”

“Not for long. Grandma Trixie says she’s going to fight for custody so we can come live with her in California, just as soon as she finds us all a good place to stay.”

Why would a grandparent think she could possibly win a custody fight against a parent? What was the background? Where was their mother, first of all, and why hadn’t they been living with their father before now?

Cole’s life seemed a mad tangle of complications.

“I don’t want to live with Grandma Trixie. I like living with Dad,” Ty said, his voice small. “We have our own rooms now, which we never had before, and a yard to play in and Dad says I can even get a horse of my own after I learn how to ride better.”

“Who wants a stupid horse?” Jazmyn tossed her brother a disgusted look. “With Grandma Trixie in California, we could go to the beach every day, even in the winter, and maybe even see movie stars.”

“I’d rather have a horse and live with Dad,” Ty muttered. Devin had the feeling this wasn’t the first time the two of them had engaged in this particular argument. To keep the peace, she opted for distraction.

“Let’s go see if we can find some crackers and juice. Ty, why don’t you give me a hand?”

The agreeable boy slid off his chair and followed her to the reception desk. “Hey, Brittney. My man Ty here is hungry and so is his sister. Any chance we could grab a few of those cracker packs and maybe some cookies from the food room?”

“Sure, Dr. Shaw.” The young receptionist hopped up. “I should have thought of that. What a dope I can be. I’m sorry. Just give me a sec.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

The receptionist hurried away. While she was gone, Ty became interested in the small Christmas tree on the desk, made entirely of inflated nonlatex gloves cascading down with an elastic bandage garland.

“Are those all balloons? Did somebody have to blow them all up?”

“I would guess so,” she answered.

“I bet that took forever.”

“It’s not that tough. Here, I’ll show you.” She grabbed a glove from the box tacked to the wall and quickly showed him how to bunch the end together and blow it up, then tie the end like a balloon. “And now look.” She grabbed a Sharpie from the canister on the reception desk and doodled a face on it, with the thumb sticking out like a long nose, much to the boy’s delight.

She might not be able to knit, but who said she wasn’t crafty?

She had learned the fine art of glove creature creation during her first surgery, when she’d ended up staying ten days because of an infection. In the children’s hospital in Boise, she had met Lilah, another teenage girl with cancer. It was Lilah, she remembered, who had shown her the trick of creating creatures from surgical gloves. They used to make them for the younger kids receiving treatment.

Lilah had lost her battle just a few months later.

Devin thought a silent prayer for her friend and for the others she had said goodbye to along her cancer journey.

“Can you make one for Jazmyn?” Ty asked.

“You bet.”

In a minute, she had another inflated glove. This face she drew with long eyelashes and puckered lips. Ty quickly took it over to his sister just as the receptionist came out with a handful of treats.

The kids were eating crackers and cheese with enthusiasm—pausing every few moments to bop each other on the head with their inflated glove creatures—when their father walked back into the waiting room.

She suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, which she was fully aware was a completely ridiculous reaction to a gorgeous man.

“Hey, kids.”

“Where’s Aunt Tricia?”

Cole glanced at Devin, looking rather endearingly uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to tell his kids. “She’s sticking around here for the night. Dr. Shaw wants to keep an eye on her and the babies a little longer.”

“Who’s going to fix us breakfast and get us on the bus?” Ty demanded. “We don’t even have Mrs. Lynn to help us anymore.”

“I can do that just as well as Tricia or Mrs. Lynn.”

“Aunt Tricia said you can’t even make toast without burning it,” Jazmyn informed him.

“Aunt Tricia talks too much,” he muttered. “Between you and me, we ought to be able to handle things for a few days, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” she said doubtfully.

“Get your coats and gather up your things so we can take off,” he ordered. “We need to get Aunt Tricia’s bag out of the car, then grab some dinner so I can get you two to bed.”

“Can we take these?” Ty asked Devin, holding out his inflated glove.

“Of course,” she answered. “I’ll warn you, they might start to lose air pretty soon.”

When they were just about ready to go—mittens found, beanies adjusted—Jazmyn turned contrary.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she suddenly declared. The girl was quite a character. She could have gone anytime in the past fifteen minutes but she had waited until she knew her father was in a hurry.

“Can’t you wait until we get home?” Cole asked.

“No. I have to go now.”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

She headed to the ladies’ room just off the lobby. “You need to go?” Cole asked his son. The boy shook his head, content to toss the rubber glove balloon into the air and catch it again.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” Cole said to her.

“No problem. They’re fun kids. How old are they? I didn’t have the chance to ask.”

“Jaz is eight going on about thirty-six and Ty just turned six.”