The Manning Brides (16 page)

K
elsey’s weak cry stirred Paul from his light sleep. He blinked and rubbed a hand down his weary face. The midnight feedings were the worst, especially on Friday nights.

Life had fallen into a dismal pattern in the six months since Diane’s funeral. He’d never worked harder in his life. Keeping up with the kids and the house and his job left room for little else. The demands seemed endless.

His family had pitched in to help every way they could. Between his mother and his sister-in-law he was managing, especially with his mother taking the kids every weekday, shuttling the boys to preschool and picking them up.

Kelsey cried again, and Paul threw aside his covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Blindly he searched with his feet for his slippers, then stood and pulled on his robe.

Kelsey’s crib was in his room, and he automatically reached for her, placing her against his shoulder.

“Just a minute, sweetheart,” he said, walking around the room until he’d located a freshly laundered diaper on top of the dresser.

Bless Leah. He didn’t know what he’d do if she hadn’t taken over the laundry. With so many extra medical expenses, plus the cost of the funeral, he couldn’t afford a diaper service or even disposables, or, at least, not as many as he needed. At night he used the old-fashioned kind, often going through two or three. So every afternoon on her way home from teaching at the college, Leah came by to prepare dinner and start the laundry. He wouldn’t have survived the past few months without Leah and his mother.

He deftly changed Kelsey’s wet diaper while her bottle was heating in the microwave. He was getting fairly good at this diapering business. Early in his married life, Paul had teased Diane that she could have as many children as she wanted as long as she was the one who dealt with the messy diapers. Now changing diapers, like so many other tasks, had become his alone.

Settling in the rocking chair with Kelsey, Paul carefully touched the nipple to her lips. The baby’s tiny mouth parted, and she sucked hungrily.

He brushed the soft blond wisps of hair from her sweet face. How grateful he was that Kelsey had been born healthy. Diane had wanted a little girl so badly. An ultrasound early in the pregnancy had told them that she was to have her wish. Paul hadn’t cared one way or the other, but Diane had been overjoyed at the prospect of a daughter.

Paul had been with her when Kelsey was born. Because there’d been so much concern about Diane’s condition, they’d immediately handed Kelsey to him. Despite everything that had happened since, he remembered the surge of love and pride he’d experienced holding his newborn daughter that first time.

It wasn’t Kelsey’s fault that her birth had cost Diane her life. Not once had Paul thought to blame her. Who was there to accuse? God? Fate? Life?

Paul didn’t know. He’d given up looking for answers. There wasn’t enough time or energy left in a day. Not when he had to deal with the reality of raising three motherless children, aged four and less than a year.

Once Kelsey had finished the bottle, Paul held her over his shoulder again and rubbed her back. Gently rocking back and forth, he closed his eyes. He’d rest for a few minutes…he told himself.

Just a few minutes…

Saturday morning, when Leah let herself into the house that had once been her sister’s, she found her brother-in-law asleep in the rocking chair, his arms cradling Kelsey.

She hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. He’d been so tired lately. They both had.

Too tired to grieve.

Too tired to do anything more than simply function, taking one step at a time, dragging from one day to the next. Moving forward, because they had no choice.

Even now, six months after her sister’s death, Leah had trouble accepting the permanence of the situation. More often than she could count, Leah expected Diane to come into the room, bringing her warm smile and effervescent personality. How empty life felt without her. Empty for her.

For Paul.

For the children.

Then some days it was as if Diane was actually there. At the oddest times Leah could almost feel her sister standing beside her, thanking her for helping, for encouraging Paul.

And then there was the dream.

Leah had never told her brother-in-law about it. She’d never told anyone. It had come the night Diane died.

Paul and Leah had been at the hospital with her sister for three days, and there hadn’t been any change in Diane’s condition. Dr. Charman had insisted they both go home and get some sleep. Nothing was likely to happen for some time yet, he’d told them. Paul had been as reluctant to leave as Leah had, but in the end they’d both agreed.

Leah had gone to her apartment, showered and fallen into bed. She’d slept deeply, and in her dream Diane had come to her, walking through a field of wildflowers. She was barefoot and happy. Then she’d stood under a flowering magnolia tree and looked at Leah. A brilliant white light had settled above her. Diane had smiled into the light, and although Leah couldn’t hear what her sister was saying, it had seemed to her that Diane was requesting a few more minutes. She’d then turned from the radiant light and smiled at Leah.

Holding a daisy, plucking at the petals, she’d told Leah how sorry she was to leave her, to leave Paul and the children. Leah had tried to interrupt, but Diane had stopped her. Her sister had explained how hard she’d battled to live, then said she’d come to understand that there was a greater wisdom in accepting death.

The problem, she whispered, was that she couldn’t freely give up her life with Paul and Leah holding on to her the way they were. Holding her back. The strength of their love and their will kept her with them, prevented her from dying. It was the reason they’d been sent home. Once they were gone, she would be free.

Leah had tried to argue with her, but Diane had smiled serenely and shaken her head, claiming there wasn’t enough time. She’d spoken quickly, pointing out to Leah that Paul and the children would need her help. Looking directly into Leah’s eyes, she’d smiled again and asked if Leah would be willing to take her place. Leah hadn’t understood then and wasn’t sure she did now, but in the end she’d promised to do whatever was needed.

The next instant Leah had awakened. For a confused moment she’d lain there in bed, certain it had all been a dream. Only a dream. Yes, Diane
was
at the hospital and it
was
true that her condition was serious, but her sister
wasn’t
going to die. No one had even mentioned the possibility. Quickly Leah had gotten out of bed and rushed back to the hospital to discover that Paul was already there with Dr. Charman.

Her sister was gone.

The dream had haunted Leah for months. She’d kept her promise to Diane and was doing everything she could to help Paul with the children, but it seemed so little.

To his credit, Paul was holding up well. He was such a good father. But Leah wondered how much longer he’d be able to continue under the strain. All along, he’d been the strong one, reassuring her, reassuring his children, his parents and everyone else.

Leah didn’t know how he did it. But she was grateful. His confidence was the glue that held everything together. It kept them all going—Leah, his family, everyone who was trying to help. Paul’s mother took the children during the day. The cost of day care for three preschoolers was outrageous. When Paul told Leah the quotes he’d gotten from several child-care facilities, she’d thought he was joking. He couldn’t survive financially paying those fees.

Because Paul’s hours at the newspaper often stretched past six o’clock, Leah had gotten into the habit of picking up Kelsey and the boys at his mother’s place on her way home from the college, where she taught math. Since the kids were invariably hungry, she’d start dinner. She’d also run a load or two of laundry and do whatever else she could to lighten Paul’s obligations.

For six months they’d all worked together, more or less coping with everything that needed to be done. Leah, however, was growing concerned. Elizabeth Manning was a wonderful woman, but she hadn’t been responsible for small children in many years, and the demands of caring for three of them were beginning to take their toll. Not only that, the older Mannings had been planning a trip to Montana to visit Paul’s two sisters. Christy was pregnant with her first child, and Elizabeth Manning was hoping to be with her youngest daughter for the birth of her child.

Paul was as concerned about the situation as Leah was. Even more so. But she didn’t know what he intended to do. The problem was, he probably didn’t either.

What
could
he do?

“Mommy!” Four-year-old Ryan, the older—by ten minutes—of the identical twins, came out from their bedroom, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He dragged his security blanket on the carpet behind him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Leah said, lifting his warm little body into her arms.

“I want my mommy.” Ryan’s arms clasped her neck tightly.

“I know.” Her voice caught as she spoke.

“When’s she coming home?”

“Your mommy’s in heaven now, remember?”

“But when will she come back?”

Unexpected tears filled Leah’s eyes. “She won’t…. Don’t you remember what your daddy said?”

“But I
want
her to.”

“I do, too.” It was difficult to make Ryan and Ronnie understand, difficult to understand herself. And it didn’t seem to be getting any easier.

Diane had had a husband, children, responsibilities. Her sister had been full of life and laughter. Her death made no sense to Leah. None.

Diane was blond, pretty, animated, energetic. Leah was tall and ungainly, and she lacked Diane’s confidence and vivacity. At five-eight she was a full five inches taller than her younger sister had been. Her hair was a pale brown, and unlike Diane’s beautiful blue eyes, hers were an indeterminate color, somewhere between green and brown depending on what she wore. Diane had been the striking one in the family.

Diane had also been the only family Leah had. Their parents had divorced when they were young, and their mother had died several years ago. They’d lost contact with their father in their teens. Any aunts, uncles, cousins, had long since faded from view.

“Are you hungry?” Leah asked Ryan, turning the conversation away from the painful subject of Diane.

Ryan’s head was buried in her shoulder. He sniffled and nodded. “Can you make Egg McManning the way Mommy did?”

“Ah…” Leah hesitated. She had no idea what Egg McManning was. “Sure, but you’ll have to show me how.”

“Okay.” Ryan brightened a little. “First you cook eggs and cheese and muffins, then you put everything together and eat it.”

“Oh…” Leah was going to need a few more instructions than that. Diane had had an active imagination. She could make the most mundane chores fun and the simplest meal a feast.

“I’m hungry.” Ronnie wandered out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. With both hands, he pulled out the kitchen chair, then climbed up onto the seat. He stuck his thumb in his mouth.

“Aunt Leah’s making Egg McManning,” Ryan told him.

“Good.” The thumb left his mouth long enough to say that one word.

Until Diane’s death Ronnie had given up sucking his thumb, but he’d started again. Leah hadn’t suggested he stop and wouldn’t for a while. Life had already landed him a harsh blow; she wasn’t about to chastise him because he needed a little extra comfort.

“Did I hear someone mention Egg McManning for breakfast?” Paul stood in the kitchen doorway, Kelsey on his shoulder, sleeping soundly.

“Aunt Leah’s making them for us,” Ryan explained solemnly.

“I hope you’ll share the recipe with me,” she muttered under her breath.

“Toast English muffins,” Paul said between yawns, “add some scrambled egg, a slice of cheese and voilà.” He pressed his free hand to his mouth, stifling another yawn. “How long have you been here?”

“Only a few minutes.” Leah had her back to him, searching the contents of the refrigerator for a carton of eggs.

“I thought you couldn’t come until noon today.”

“I lied,” she said over her shoulder, giving him a quick grin. “I cleaned up my place last night and figured I’d get a head start with the kids this morning.” She set the eggs, muffins and cheese on the counter. “I thought Ryan and Ronnie might enjoy a trip to the zoo.” Out of the corner of her eye she watched for the twins’ reaction.

“The zoo?” Ronnie asked excitedly. “With lions and tigers and bears?”

“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Paul asked, frowning.

“I was too tired to go out.” She grabbed a skillet that had been left to dry in the rack next to the sink and set it on the stove.

“If you were so tired, where’d you find the energy to clean house?”

Paul was like that sometimes. Leah guessed it was the reporter in him. He’d prod until he got the answer he already knew to be the truth.

“If I were you,” she said, waving a spatula at him, “I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Fierce pride brightened his blue eyes.