CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Epilogue
“What do you think?” Patrick opened the door to the nursery and showed his wife three white cribs lined up against one pale green wall. The fresh paint was trimmed with bright white woodwork. A huge oak rocker sat in one corner. Changing tables were arrayed on either side of the closet doors.
“You did a good job,” Heather said. “The furniture looks good.”
“I got those boys of Lenny’s to do the actual painting,” Patrick admitted. “Cord and Hunter were happy to make a little money. I was too busy visiting my wife in hospital to be decorating. I did not expect our babies to be so early.”
Heather only smiled. “Did they put the furniture together, too?”
“It only arrived yesterday. Zeke and I did it this morning before I picked you up. Shall we put our babies to bed, Mrs. Bascom?”
Heather smiled slyly. “They are sleeping in their car seats. They might wake up if we move them.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “The doctor said not to leave them to sleep sitting up. Something to do with their breathing.”
Heather sighed. “Okay, but I warn you, they will be hungry as soon as they wake up.” She crossed to the window and lowered the blinds. “We might as well keep it dark.”
“Jenna brought over some bottles and formula – in case you can’t manage to nurse all three,” he said hesitantly.
“So far, I seem to have enough milk for two at a time.”
Their three babies were asleep in the hall, lined up against the wall in a row. They still had identification bracelets around their chubby wrists. Their dark hair and red cheeks and squashed noses looked identical to Patrick.
“Can you tell them apart?” he asked.
“Only by smell,” she admitted. She knew they weren’t identical, but right now they sure looked it.
He bent over the first car seat and gently extracted his daughter. He sniffed her neck, glad he was freshly shaven. He was proud of the ring Heather had insisted on, but a member of the bar couldn’t sport a beard. “She smells of milk and you,” he complained. He checked her bracelet. “This is Stella.”
Heather took the baby from him. She was bursting out of her little pink sleeper. “I think she grew on the way home.” She too breathed in their daughter’s sweet scent. “It’s Stella all right.”
Patrick was undoing the straps on the second car seat and extracting another sleeping infant. He nuzzled the dark curls. “Bethany,” he pronounced.
Heather leaned over. She sniffed delicately and gave him a proud smile. “Correct.”
He checked the bracelet anyway. He was holding his cousin’s namesake. Heather had started back to the nursery and he followed carrying his burden close to his heart. Heather laid Stella in her crib on her back and deftly swaddled her in a thin blanket. The baby slept on.
“Do you want to swaddle Bethany?” she asked.
“I’ll have to learn how,” he said.
Bethany woke up in the middle of his inept attempt to roll her into a tight bundle. Her face scrunched up and she opened her mouth in a squawk. Heather took her and loosened her blanket. “Hungry?” she cooed.
She sat down in the rocker and offered Bethany her breast. The baby latched on and began to nurse greedily. Patrick watched his wife with their daughter at her breast. Madonna and child.
Another wail came from the hall. “I’ll go,” he said.
Hope was wide awake and looking around with unfocused eyes. “Hey,” he chided gently. “You’re okay. Daddy’s here.”
His voice made his daughter shriek more loudly. She didn’t stop until he was cradling her in his arms. Her little rosebud mouth opened and closed and her head turned restlessly as she tried to find someplace to suckle. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, “Wrong parent.”
Heather looked up. “Change her,” she advised.
“I practiced at the hospital,” he told her.
“On our babies?”
“On a doll,” he confessed. He laid Hope down on the changing table and kept a hand on her belly while he rummaged for a clean diaper. “This is trickier without a nurse standing by.”
Heather snickered. He could hear Bethany’s greedy suckling. Hope decided he was torturing her and screamed. She cried louder when he exposed her legs and undid her diaper. Stella woke and began to fuss. Their peaceful homecoming was suddenly bedlam.
He got Hope’s diaper on and stuffed her uncooperative legs back into her sleeper. “What do I do now?” Hope’s howls blended with Stella’s.
Heather was at his elbow. “This one’s done,” she said. “Let’s swap.”
“But what about Stella?”
“See if putting her sister beside her calms her?”
“Doesn’t Bethany need changing?” He patted the little bottom and felt the heaviness of her diaper.
“Probably. But you could try changing her in the crib.”
Miraculously, both Bethany and Stella stopped crying as soon as they could touch. Their hysterical sobs turned to hiccups. Little fingers reached out and locked together. “You were right,” Patrick said as he headed for the diapers and wipes.
“They are used to being squished up together,” Heather said. Hope made urgent suckling noises in her arms. “You need to make a bottle for Stella – and a chart. We will have to keep track of who’s turn it is to get formula.”
“I can do that. I guess.” It took less time to change Bethany’s diaper. And even less time to change Stella’s. His daughters continued to hold hands and Bethany’s eyes drooped and closed. “I think Beth is asleep,” he whispered.
“Good.”
“Should I take Stella with me when I go to the kitchen?”
“You’ll need both hands.”
Which turned out to be quite true. The fridge had a row of bottles with exactly four ounces in each one. Jenna had taped instructions for warming them and a chart to the cupboard. Do not use the microwave! He already knew that could create a scalding hazard. He settled for the old-fashioned method of inserting the bottle in hot water.
He had had a delightful fantasy of bringing his wife and babies home from the hospital and enjoying them in peaceful contentment. He hadn’t thought how much was involved in keeping his popcorn happy.
One of the girls started crying again. The noise cut off abruptly. Heather appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Isn’t that warm yet?” The baby at her breast pulled her head away and screamed. “She’s figured out that this well is dry.”
“Which one is that?”
“Stella.” Heather rocked the baby tenderly and the crying subsided. “Did I thank you for naming her after my mom?”
Patrick handed her the bottle and reached for his daughter. “It was only fair. We named Hope for mine.” Laura intended to name her daughter after her mother. Her twins were due any day.
Heather expertly checked the temperature of the milk and handed him the bottle. “Don’t let her suck air.”
Patrick sat down at the table and adjusted bottle and baby. “Am I doing it right?”
“Hold the bottle a little lower. That’s the way. I’m going to make us some lunch.”
Stella slurped happily on formula. “She seems content enough with a bottle,” he said with relief.
“The nurses got them all started at the hospital. And we had four whole days for them to get used to taking turns.” Heather pulled a roast chicken out of the fridge. “Where did this come from?”
“Your Aunt Debbie.”
“That was kind of her. I’m starving.” Heather sliced chicken. “Do you mind that they are all girls?”
Patrick stared at the back of his wife’s head. “Are you serious? Three healthy girls are fine by me. I was so worried that you would have them on the way to the hospital that I would be happy if they were furry.” Stella choked on milk. “What do I do now?”
“Take the bottle away. Sit her up and rub her back. Stella tends to gulp.”
The baby felt too floppy to sit, but Patrick did his best while Heather washed her hands. He was ready for her to take the baby, but she just bent over and adjusted his hands. “You’ll never learn any younger. Support her chest with your fingers.”
Once his forefinger and thumb were in her armpits, Stella assumed a thoughtful expression. Her eyes closed. Something like a smile flitted over her tiny, crumpled face. Heather thrust a flannel blanket over his hand. Stella burped milk onto it. “How did you know?”
His wife laughed and kissed his head. “Instinct.”
“I think she’s asleep.”
“Put her in her crib and let’s eat while they are napping.”
He had to spend a minute watching his three lovely babies sleeping contentedly. He was a lucky man. Three beautiful daughters and a wonderful wife.
“Have I told you recently that I love you?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Heather tossed the salad she had made. “You have. But you can say it as often as you like.”
He put the salad bowl on the table and kissed her. A proper kiss that spoke of his love and desire. She tasted different, better, as if the hormones rushing through her body had changed her and him in some elemental way. She returned his greeting with her usual enthusiasm. He could have stood kissing his wife in the kitchen all afternoon, but she pulled away.
“I love you dearly, Patrick Bascom, but you better eat before those girls of yours wake up and start asking for dessert.”
He sat. Reached into his pocket. Pulled out a little red velvet box. “I almost forgot. I bought you a present.”
Heather bit into her sandwich and chewed. Her blue eyes sparkled. He took her left hand where his diamond glittered no more brightly than her eyes. He had bought her a stone big enough to announce she was taken, and every time he saw it he felt a possessive jolt of pleasure. He had become such a fricking bear.
He opened the red box one-handed. A circle of blue and white stones flashed.
“Nice,” Heather said.
He slid it onto her finger. “Thank you for making me complete,” he said. “Thank you for giving me a family.” He kissed her finger.
She took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Bent sideways to kiss him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. Now eat. We’re on the clock here, Bascom.”
On cue, one of their daughters began to wail. “I’ll go,” he said. He took a sandwich with him.
<<<<>>>>
Keep reading for a preview of Bear Fate! Heather’s twin finds her HEA in Colorado on the Bascom ranch. Amber has a choice between two military heroes, as Calvin Bascom and Lance Prescott vie for this luscious she-bear.