Twins Under His Tree (3 page)

“You'll have Troy's benefits,” Mitch reminded her.

“That money is going into a trust fund for the twins.”

He didn't contradict her, or try to convince her otherwise. She wanted to give her girls the advantages she'd had growing up. Yet, most of all, she wanted them to appreciate the people around them who loved them. When she'd lost her parents, she'd realized how little material possessions actually meant, and she'd grown up quickly.

“Did you grow up here in Sagebrush?” she asked Mitch, curious about his childhood.

“Yes, I did.”

Frustrated he wasn't more expansive, she prompted, “But you don't have family here.”

“No, I don't.”

“Mitch,” she said, letting her frustration show.

“What do you want to know, Lily? Just ask.”

Studying his collar-length black hair, his chiseled features, she let the question pop into her head.
Are you just here out of duty or do you care?
Instead she replied, “I
am
asking. But you're not telling me much.”

“And why is this suddenly important?”

That was a good question. “I'm not sure. I guess talking about Ellie, thinking about how I'm going to raise the twins— It just made me wonder, that's all. At least give me something to think about while I rest and twiddle my thumbs.”

“Crochet,” he pointed out.

“Same difference.”

The silence in the living room enveloped them for a few moments until Mitch said, “Your background and mine are very different.”

“How do you know about mine?”

“Troy shared some of it when we played pool.”

Lily's husband and Mitch had gone out and shared an evening of guy stuff now and then, the same way she shared time with her friends.

“Just what did he tell you?”

Mitch's shrug told her he was attempting to make the conversation casual. “That your father was a respected scientist and professor at Stanford. That your mother was a pharmacist who developed her own line of cosmetics and did quite well with them. Something about after your father died, she sold the formula to provide you with a college education.”

“Yes, she did,” Lily murmured, mind-traveling back to a time that was filled with bittersweet memories. “Daddy died of a massive coronary when I was in high school. My mom died of breast cancer when I was in
college. Losing them both made me want to find a profession that gave life.”

“If your father taught at Stanford, how did you end up
here?
”

“My mom had a friend who lived in Lubbock, so we moved here. But she and my dad had always planned I'd go to their alma mater. I was at Stanford when she got sick. I flew home as often as I could, but then took off a semester when we called in hospice.”

“You've had a lot of loss.”

“The people I love leave me.” She stared at her hands when she said it, but then she raised her gaze to his. “I know. I know. I shouldn't believe that. If nothing else, I should think positive to change the pattern. But this negative pattern is awfully fresh again and it's hard not to wonder.”

“You have two little girls now to love.”

“I do. And you can bet, I
will
be an overprotective mom.”

“I don't think there's anything wrong with that.”

Somehow the conversation had rolled back to Lily again. Mitch was so good at deflecting. Why had she never realized that? But she was also determined to delve below the surface.

Hiking herself up higher against the sofa arm, she nodded toward the space at the end of the couch where her feet had been. “Tell me how you grew up.”

He looked as reluctant to sit on her couch as she was to have him sleep there tonight. But in the end, he decided she wouldn't rest until he gave her something. So he sat on the sofa, his thigh brushing one of her stockinged feet. He looked terrifically uncomfortable. “There's not much to it.”

She waited, her gaze on his rugged profile.

With a grimace, he finally said, “My father married my mother because she was pregnant when they were both eighteen.”

She knew Mitch was probably going to need some prompting, so she asked, “Did it last?”

Mitch's brows drew together as he, obviously reluctant, answered, “He stuck around for a year, then took off on his motorcycle and bailed. She went to business school and became a medical transcriber, but she couldn't always find work. Other times she held two jobs, cleaned offices at night and saved for when times were thin again. I was determined to make life better for both of us.”

“Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“Do you mean was it a lifelong wish from childhood? No. Actually, at first I thought I might become a stockbroker or an investment banker.”

Lily couldn't help but smile. She couldn't imagine Mitch as either of those. She didn't know why. She just couldn't. “So why aren't you working on Wall Street?”

“I was good at sports…basketball. I won a scholarship to college. But during my sophomore year my mother got sick and didn't tell me. She didn't have insurance so she didn't go to the doctor. She developed pneumonia and died.”

“Oh, Mitch. I'm sorry. That had to be awful for you.”

Again he looked uncomfortable revealing this part of his past. “She'd been my motivator. After she died, I took a nosedive. I'd been a good student, but my grades tanked. Then one day, after a few months of drinking
into the night and sleeping too late to get up for class, I looked out the dorm window and knew that campus wasn't
real
life. Guys hooking up with girls, frat parties, learning to play teachers for better grades. I thought about my mom's life, how hard it had been and how it ended, and I decided to make a difference. I wanted to help patients who didn't have much of a chance. I wanted to give life when it was hardly there any longer. So I juggled two jobs, got my B.S., and went on to med school. I decided on trauma surgery. In my last year of residency, September 11th happened.”

Lily thought of Raina and her first husband, a fire-fighter, who had lost his life that day. Her knowledge of Mitch's character and her intuition where he was concerned urged her to ask, “And that's when you signed up for the Army National Guard?”

“Yes.”

“When did you go to Iraq?”

“Two years later.”

They were both quiet for a few moments.

Mitch flexed his hand and moved his fingers as she often saw him do, and she knew he was remembering something he never talked about…something that caused those deep fatigue lines around his eyes some mornings.

To break the heavy silence, she asked, “Are you happy being part of our fertility practice?” She and two other doctors had been in unanimous agreement, voting him into their partnership.

“You mean would I rather be performing surgery? Sure. But I like what I do. You and me, Jon and Hillary…we give the seeds of life a chance, as well as at-risk pregnancies. That's rewarding. What I miss is not
being part of the Guard, no longer having that unique camaraderie and sense of spirit. Before deployment, it was tough trying to be a doctor as well as a guardsman. But it was what I wanted to be doing.”

Abruptly he stood, his body language telling her that this conversation was over. He already knew Lily was the type who wanted to know more, who would ask questions until she got her answers. He was cutting that off before it could go any further. To her surprise, she already missed his presence at the end of the sofa.

“I checked your refrigerator and you have a couple of choices,” he said with a forced smile. “Scrambled eggs, scrambled eggs with asparagus and bacon on the side, or… I think I saw sausage in there that I could turn into sausage and pasta of some kind, maybe with canned tomatoes.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes were open wide and she was staring at him as if she really didn't know him.

“I told you my mom taught me the basics. But in college I had an apartment with two other guys. I couldn't stomach pizza every night, so I cooked. I borrowed a cookbook or two from the library and they kept me going for the year.”

“You're just full of surprises,” Lily said, laying her head back against the arm of the sofa, suddenly tired and feeling weak.

“Is the adrenaline finally giving out?” he asked her.

“If you mean do I feel like a wet noodle, yes. Are you happy now?”

The corner of his mouth turned down. “Seeing you tired doesn't make me happy. But knowing that because
of it you'll get some rest does.” He took hold of the afghan and pulled it above her breasts. He made sure she was covered from there to her toes. Then he gave it a little tuck under her hip so it wouldn't fall away.

Mitch's fingers were strong and long. She felt heat from them with just that quick touch. He'd used his left hand. From what she'd heard, he didn't have much feeling in the fingers of his right hand.

She caught his arm before he moved away.

His gaze crashed into hers and they stared at each other for a few moments.

“Thank you for bringing me home.”

“No problem,” he responded, as if it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal to Lily. She'd never forget his friendship with Troy. She'd certainly never forget his kindness to her. But something about that kindness and her acceptance of it unsettled her. She had to figure out why it bothered her so much that Mitch would be sleeping on her couch tonight.

L
ily stared at the TV that evening, not really focused on the newsmagazine show that was airing. She was too aware of Mitch rattling the back screen door, fixing loose weather stripping.

Over supper they'd talked about the house and former tenants, needing dispassionate conversation. When they didn't stay on neutral territory, they seemed to wander into intensity…or awkwardness that came from being alone together. It was odd, really. For the past two and a half years while working with Mitch, she'd found him easy to be with. Now…

The phone rang and Lily picked up the cordless from the end table. When she saw Gina's number on caller ID, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” Gina said. “How are you and Sophie and Grace?”

“I called the hospital a little bit ago. They're doing okay. And I'm…good. I'm at home.”

“So you said in your message. I'm sorry I just got it. My plane had a delay taking off. It was a whirlwind trip, leaving yesterday and coming back today. But I didn't want to be away from Daniel and Logan any longer than I had to be.”

A baby development expert, Gina had received an offer from a Houston hospital to start her Baby Grows center there, too. Lily was sure Gina would someday not only have an additional Baby Grows center in Houston but many all around the country.

“So Mitch is keeping you company? How's that going?”

“It's okay. It's just…he's hovering. He insists I shouldn't be alone today. He gave me the option to sleep over at his place, or his sleeping on my couch. So he's sleeping here on my couch tonight.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Sure.” But Lily knew her voice didn't sound sure. A man who wasn't her husband sleeping under her roof. Is that what was bothering her? Or was there more to it?

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” Lily was quick to answer. “You need to be with your family.”

“I was going to take off work tomorrow. Why don't I drive over first thing? Then Mitch can go to Family Tree.”

“Are you sure you don't have other things you have to do?”

“I don't,” Gina replied. “Tomorrow we can talk about Sophie and Grace, possibly visit them, and maybe I can get some things ready for you.”

Seeing her twins. Baby talk. Girl talk. That sounded great to Lily. “I really appreciate this.”

“No problem. Have you heard from Angie?”

Angie was Gina's sister, and Lily knew Gina worried about her when she worked on the team. “No. Have you?”

“No, not since she reached the Gulf. But the disaster relief team really doesn't have time for anything but helping the victims.” After a short pause, she asked, “Why don't I stop at the bakery and pick up croissants on my way over?”

“I'm supposed to be losing weight, not gaining it.”

“You don't have that much to lose. Besides, if you're going to pump milk and then breast-feed, you need some extra calories.”

“The croissants sound good. That way I can convince Mitch he doesn't have to make breakfast.”

“Did he make supper?”

“He did. And now he's doing some minor repairs on the house.”

It must have been her tone of voice when she said it that made Gina ask, “That bothers you?”

“I don't want to be indebted to him. Do you know what I mean?”

“Oh, I know. But remember, Troy asked him to watch over you. That's what he's doing.”

Last fall, Lily had shared Troy's letter with Gina, Angie and Raina. They also knew Mitch was simply fulfilling a promise. She should be grateful instead of uncomfortable.

Lily had just ended the call when Mitch strode into the living room. She told him, “Gina's coming over
early tomorrow morning so you don't have to worry about me.”

No change of expression crossed Mitch's face, but there was a flicker of reaction in his eyes that said he would worry anyway.

“I have a new client tomorrow who will be making decisions about in vitro fertilization and a few follow-up appointments after that. So if you need anything, I can try to rearrange my schedule.”

She jumped in. “No need. I'll be sorting baby clothes with Gina and hanging decorations on the nursery walls. I wasn't prepared for an early delivery, which isn't like me at all!”

Mitch set the duct tape he'd carried in on an end table. “You wanted to stay in the pregnant zone as long as you could.”

Although diplomatic, what he wasn't saying was obvious. She'd wanted to put off the idea of becoming a mother without Troy by her side for as long as possible. For once in her life, denial had definitely been more palatable than reality.

But now reality had smacked her in the face.

“You look lost,” Mitch said, with a gentle edge to his voice.

That gentleness fell over her like a warm cloak. But then she had to ask herself,
did
she feel lost? Adrift? Alone? But she wasn't alone when she had good friends helping her. “No, not lost. Just off balance. I hate the unexpected. And my life has been one unexpected crisis after the other.”

Rounding the coffee table, he approached her and she wished he'd sit beside her on the sofa. But he didn't.
“Sophie and Grace coming home will be grounding. You'll see.”

His dark eyes didn't waver from hers and she felt sudden heat rising in her cheeks. Not from looking at Mitch! How many times had she looked at him in just that way?

No. Not just
this
way.

“The bedding for the sofa is upstairs,” she said in a rush. “I'll get it.”

“Are you staying up there?”

“I suppose.” She produced a smile. “You'll have the downstairs to yourself if you want to watch TV or get a snack.”

“I'll walk up with you.”

There was no point in protesting. What would she do? Toss him the bedding over the banister?

When she swung her legs over the side of the sofa, Mitch was there, holding out his hand to help her up. She could be stubborn. Or she could accept a hand up when she needed it.

His strong fingers closed over hers, and her heart raced as her mind searched for something to say.

“Take it slowly,” he reminded her as she rose to her feet.

Everything Mitch said today seemed to be full of deeper meaning. Although she longed to keep her hand in his, she slid it free and headed to the stairs.

A few minutes later in the hall on the second floor, Lily stopped by the linen closet and opened the door. Blankets lay folded on the shelf above her head. She reached up but she shouldn't have bothered. Mitch was there, behind her, easily pulling a blanket from the closet. His superior height and strength was obvious.
She could sense both, even though he wasn't touching her. Jittery, tired and anxious about what was going to happen next, she knew her hormones were out of whack. That was the best explanation she could think of to explain how she was feeling around Mitch.

He stepped away, bedding in hand. “This is great.”

“Don't be silly. You need a sheet and pillow.” And
she
needed something to do with her hands. She needed something to do with her mind. She needed something to
do
.

Choosing a pale blue sheet, she yanked a matching pillowcase from a stack. “The extra pillows are way up on the top shelf,” she explained, moving away, letting him reach.

He easily removed one of those, too.

“I wish the sofa pulled out. You're going to be uncomfortable all scrunched up.”

He laughed. “Believe me, I've slept on a lot worse. You worry too much, Lily. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

Her husband's name came to her lips, but she didn't say it. She didn't have to. Mitch knew.

He looked disconcerted for a second—just a second—but then he took the sheets from her arms. “Do you have a phone in your room?”

“My cell phone is in my purse. You brought that up with my suitcase. Why?”

“If you need something, call me. You might go to bed and an hour from now figure out you want a pack of crackers or a glass of milk.”

There was only one way to answer with a man like Mitch. “I'll call you if I need you.”

But somehow they both knew she wouldn't.

She went to the door to her room, which was only a few feet away. He didn't move until she stepped over the threshold and murmured, “Good night.”

He gave her a slight nod, responded, “Good night, Lily,” and headed for the stairs.

As she closed her door, she leaned against it and sighed. She wanted to make up the sofa for him so it would be comfortable.

How silly a notion was that?

 

“What do you mean you sent Gina home?” Mitch demanded as he stood in Lily's living room the following evening, a gift-wrapped box under one arm.

“She arrived before I was up this morning, as you know. She helped me ready the nursery. She took me to see the babies, and then I told her she should go home to her husband and son.”

“And she just went?” He seemed astonished by that idea.

“She protested, but I plopped here on the sofa, told her I'd stay here, and she saw I meant it.”

Lily was one exasperating woman! There was no doubt about that. But he had to admire her in spite of himself. “What did you do for dinner?”

“What is this, the third degree?”

He just arched a brow.

“Gina made a casserole for lunch and I had leftovers, with a salad and all that. What did
you
have?” she returned, almost cheekily.

All day he'd thought about eating dinner with her last night…saying good-night at the end of the day, spending the night on her couch in the strong grip of an insomnia he knew too well. Yet that was better than waking
up in a sweat after too-real flashbacks or nightmares. Moments of sensual awareness when Lily had come downstairs this morning had been unsettling enough to push him on his way as soon as Gina had arrived.

Answering her, he said, “I went to the drive-through at my favorite burger joint.” At her expression, he laughed. “Don't look so outraged. I have to do that once a week to keep fit.”

Lily laughed then, even though she tried not to. That was the first real laugh he'd heard from her since before—even he had trouble saying it sometimes—since before Troy had died. He wanted to keep her spirits up. “So…how are Sophie and Grace?”

“Sit down,” Lily said, motioning to the sofa. “I hate it when you loom. What's under your arm?”

“We'll get to that.” He considered her comment. “And I don't loom.”

“Whatever you say,” she said too quickly, with a little smile.

Shaking his head, he set the box on the coffee table and lowered himself to the sofa. Not too close to her. Before he'd driven over here, he'd warned himself about that.

“The babies are so small,” she explained, worried. “I can touch them but I can't hold them, and I'm dying to hold them.”

“You'll soon be able to hold Sophie, if not Grace. How's their weight?” he asked, digging for the bottom line like a doctor.

“They're holding their own. My milk should be in soon and I'm going to pump it—” She stopped as her cheeks turned more pink.

“Don't be embarrassed. I'm a doctor, Lily. We talk
about this all the time with our patients.” Right now he had to think of her as a patient so other images didn't trip over each other in his head.

“I know. But it seems different with…us.”

Yes, something
did
seem different. Her perception of him? His of her? The fact that they'd been friends and maybe now something more was going on?

Nothing
should be going on. It was way too soon for her. Maybe way too late for him.

“Can you tell them apart?” he asked, knowing conversation about her little girls would be comforting for her.

“Of course. Sophie's nose is turned up a little bit more at the end than Grace's. Grace's chin is just a little daintier, a tad more refined. They both have Troy's forehead and probably his eyes. It's a little too soon to tell. Sophie's a half inch longer than Grace, but Grace could catch up if she gains weight.”

“She'll gain weight. They both will.”

“Grace is still on the ventilator.” Lily's voice trembled a bit.

Needing to fortify her with the truth, he asked, “What does Francesca say?”

“Francesca insists they're doing as well as can be expected and I have to give them time. I just feel like I should be doing something. Do you know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah. Sitting still isn't easy for either one of us.” He patted the box. “That's why I brought this along. Doing is always better than worrying.”

“A gift?” Lily tore the wrapping paper off and read the information on the outside of the box. “Oh, Mitch, this is one of those new baby monitors.”

“It is. The screen is small, but there's a portable handset you can carry with you to another room. So I'm also going to hook up a larger monitor you won't need binoculars to see. It's in my car.”

“I can't let you—”

He shook his finger at her. “Don't even say it. You're going to be running yourself ragged when those babies come home. Having cameras in their cribs and a monitor down here so you can see them will help save a little bit of your energy.”

“It will save a lot of my energy. Thank you.”

Her blue eyes seemed to try to look inside him, into his heart…into his soul. That unsettled him. His soul was tormented at times by everything that had happened in Iraq. He hadn't been able to save his friend, and that, along with the PTSD symptoms, clawed at his heart. He quickly replied, “You're welcome. Why don't I get this hooked up? That way it will be ready whenever you bring the babies home.”

“The cribs were delivered this morning. Gina supervised so I didn't have to run up and down the steps. But I don't know if she put the bedding on.”