The Marine's Babies (Men Made In America) Page 15

  “Which is it?” Eyebrows raised, Vicki looked to them both.

  “Long enough.” Pacing, Jace asked, “Vicki, tell me something.”

  “Sure.” She angled on the sofa to face him.

  “When you first left the twins with me, you mentioned not being able to afford them. You worked two jobs, and still couldn’t make your bills and college tuition.”

  “Yes.” Her gaze turned to her hands that she held clenched on her lap.

  “What’s changed? How can you suddenly afford two kids, whereas a few months ago, you couldn’t? Did you graduate from college? Land a great new job?”

  “No, but I assume you’d pay child support, right?”

  “Of course, but beyond the financial considerations, how are you going to find time to care for the girls? You’re in class all day. Work all night. Who’s going to bathe them and feed them and tuck them in?”

  “I don’t know, okay?” Rubbing at her temples, she said, “I’ll figure it out.”

  Standing in front of her, Jace said, “But don’t you see? If you’d just agree to leave the girls with Emma and me, they’d never want for anything. We could guarantee them the kind of idyllic family life you never could—at least not in the immediate future.”

  Mouth dry, Jace had never wished so hard for anything in his life than for Vicki to come around to his way of thinking.

  Poor Emma looked lost, Bronwyn asleep with her head on Em’s shoulder. Jace wanted to reach out to her.

  Forcing a shuddering breath, Vicki said, “You’re right, Jace. About everything. But how do I get past worrying about what other people think?”

  “That, I can’t tell you,” he said, moving to lean against the kitchen doorjamb, searching for the right thing to say. “Have you explained to your parents and friends how you really feel? That motherhood just isn’t for you?”

  “It’s not like I go around advertising it. I’m not proud of the fact.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Emma said, absentmindedly brushing Bronwyn’s hair, “how old are you, Vicki?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  That young? Jace blanched. At the time he’d been with her, she would’ve been twenty, twenty-one. She sure as hell had looked older than that. Had he known how young she really was, he never would’ve invited her to get a room.

  He looked up only to catch Emma’s eyes. Did she think badly of him for being with a woman over ten years his junior?

  Emma’s expression was unreadable. “Do you think maybe you’re not ready to be a mom? No offense, but you are awfully young, in many ways, a child yourself, with your whole life ahead of you.”

  Silently crying again, Vicki nodded.

  “I’m not saying this to be cruel,” Emma continued, “but to try to help you clarify your feelings. Of course you love the girls. They’re your flesh and blood, but—” Emma broke down, too.

  “What’s wrong?” Jace asked.

  Still holding Bronwyn, Emma dashed for the nursery.

  Jace followed. “Hey…” he prompted, standing behind her at the paned window that looked out on the shadowy backyard. The pink floral curtains were ruffled, trimmed with bows and lace. At first, the full-on femininity had bugged the hell out of him. Now, he liked them. Liked the way his girls looked when silhouetted by them. Emma had even replaced his leaning computer desk with a white-painted, feminine version. The completed room was a tribute to princesses of all ages, and it killed him seeing Em cry. “We were making headway in there. What’s wrong?”

  The look she cast him crushed his heart. Her red-rimmed eyes appeared haunted, overwhelmed with pain. Still, she said nothing.

  “Em? Talk to me. What’s going through your head?”

  She laughed through her tears. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  Turning away from him, pressing Bronwyn to her, she whispered, “I can’t do this. Stand in there telling a mother to give me her children. I’ve lost a child. I know all too well that kind of pain. Taking the twins from Vicki isn’t right.”

  “Tell me what is?” Jace demanded quietly, taking the baby from her, tucking her into her crib. Emma’s hands in his, he said, “Vicki told us she’s a lousy mom. You, on the other hand, are an amazing mother. These girls are my flesh and blood, too, Em. What am I supposed to do? Turn my children over to a woman every bone in my body tells me is unfit, just because her family’s put her on a guilt trip? Or, do I fight with everything in me to keep those girls here? With us? Where I know they’ll be safe. Are you with me?”

  “Of course. You know I only want the best for them. But in the same regard, who am I to say that this time around, Vicki won’t get it right? That her parents won’t give her the financial and emotional support she needs to make it through school and start a new life? There are millions of single moms out there doing an amazing job raising their kids. All I’m saying is that I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I were a party to manipulating a woman into giving up her children.”

  Dropping Em’s hands, Jace took a step back. “Where is this coming from? A few days ago, you were begging me to do whatever it took to keep the girls with us. Now, you’d be willing to give them away?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. You’re twisting my words.” Arms crossed, she stormed to their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Torn, Jace wasn’t sure whether to go to the woman he loved or the woman who held his girls’ future in her hands.

  “Jace?” Vicki stood in the hall, Beatrice fussing in her arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked, brushing past her on his way to the kitchen. He needed a beer. ASAP.

  Unfortunately, Vicki followed.

  “I never meant to come between you and your fiancée.”

  Jace shrugged. “Guess I only have myself to blame.”

  He took her silence as agreement.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “I need time.” Handing Bea to him, she said, “Can I think about things overnight? Get back to you tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I’ll give Bea to Emma. Let her know I’m taking you to your car.”

  After knocking on the bedroom door, he entered the gloom. The sun had set, and the only light spilled from the bathroom.

  On the bed, Emma rested on her side, hugging a pillow while staring out the window at the dark backyard. Since she’d taken over the space, feminine touches were everywhere. A vase of fresh garden lilies on the nightstand. Floral throw pillows on the oversized arm chair she used for reading. Once-beige walls were now a shade she called robin’s-egg blue. The room even smelled of her spicy-flowery perfume. The gung-ho Marine in him should’ve been repulsed, but what could he say? Emma’s way of living had become his. She’d transformed his once-ordinary, government-issued house into a home.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Just tired.” Her usually melodic voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. He should’ve gone to her. Gathered her into his arms and told her everything would be all right. But now, he didn’t know if things would turn out right even for him, let alone the two of them. Her siding with Vicki had been the equivalent of getting shot by friendly fire.

  “Okay, well…” Setting Bea on the bed beside Emma, he said, “I’m taking Vicki back to her car. Bronwyn’s asleep, but would you mind looking after this one while I’m gone?”

  “Of course.” She drew Bea close.

  “Thanks.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he wanted to say more—needed to—but couldn’t find words.

  “You’re welcome.” Tone flat, she might as well have been talking to the wall.

  Jace sighed. Sometime during the last fifteen minutes, the woman he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with had become a stranger. “When I get back, we should talk.”

  “If you’d like.” The formality she’d had when they’d first met was back in full force.

  Exasperated, Jace just shook his head and left
the room.

  “IT JUST occurred to me,” Emma whispered to Bea after hearing Jace slam the front door, “that you and your sister never got dinner. Hungry?”

  The infant stared, wide-eyed and curious, drinking everything in.

  “Is that a yes or no?” Emma asked, her heart aching over what they’d all just been through.

  Grinning, Beatrice grabbed for Emma’s nose. “Gaaaa!”

  “Do you have any idea how cute you are?”

  “Grruulaaa!” Bea got hold of Emma’s nose and squeezed hard!

  “Ouch. Take it easy.” Scooping the baby into her arms, Emma said, “Let’s check on your sister. She might be hungry, too.”

  In the nursery, Bronwyn was still sound asleep, so Emma settled Bea into her high chair, and warmed pureed ham, peas and yams.

  With Bea kicking in anticipation, Emma stole a chair from the kitchen table, and then sat in front of the infant with her baby plate and spoon. “Hold your horses. I’m getting you fed as fast as I can.”

  “Blaggaagh!”

  The front door opened then closed.

  Emma shut her eyes. She wasn’t ready to deal with Jace. The closer his footfalls came, the more her muscles tensed.

  “Hey,” he said, setting his keys and wallet on the counter. “Thanks for feeding the munchkin.”

  “No problem,” she said, giving Bea another bite of yams.

  “Bronwyn still sleeping?”

  Emma nodded.

  “Look,” he said, scuffing his right combat boot’s toe against the yellow linoleum. “I don’t know how to do this, other than to come right out and say it, so here goes.”

  Stomach churning, Emma forced herself to keep right on feeding.

  “Mind further explaining your sudden one-eighty on Vicki running off with my kids?”

  “I’m busy right now.” Rising to get a dishcloth, and then dampen it with warm water, Emma used it to mop Bea’s orange-and-green face. “This poor girl was starving. I can’t believe we forgot to feed her.”

  “Em…” Jace pushed himself up onto the counter and braced his hands on his knees. “I need you to tell me what just happened. How you could turn on me like that?”

  “Turn on you? Jace, this isn’t exactly a black or white, right or wrong issue. Can you try looking at this from Vicki’s point of view? Like I told you, I know the pain of losing a child. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone—especially because I selfishly want their twins for myself.”

  “What happened to you loving me? The girls? To us becoming a family and sharing our point of view?”

  She swallowed the knot in her throat. “You have to know I will always want what’s best for you and Bea and Bronwyn, but that doesn’t give me the moral right to interfere with Vicki’s decision.”

  “Oh—she already made her decision. Remember how we met? Because two babies had been abandoned with me?”

  Bea had finished everything on her plate, so Emma busied herself cleaning the girl and her plastic tray. “You obviously haven’t heard a word I’ve said. You know that more than anything, I want us to be a family, but at what cost? I couldn’t live with myself if I knew Vicki for sure wanted to raise her babies, but we somehow talked her out of it.”

  Jace shot her a dirty look before sharply exhaling.

  He hopped down from the counter and left the room.

  The house’s front door opened and then shut.

  Emma bowed her head, covering her face with her hands. What a mess she’d made of everything.

  Bea started whining, so Emma unlatched the high chair’s tray and lifted her out. “You’ve got peas in your hair.”

  The girl blew a raspberry, resulting in orange drool dribbling down her chin.

  “You need a bath.”

  “Graggulah.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” Emma was also glad for the distraction of bathing Bea. By the time her bath was finished, the baby was yawning, and she put up little fuss when Emma placed her in her crib.

  Bronwyn was still sleeping, so Emma grabbed the baby monitor from the dresser, and ambled into the kitchen. Never had she wanted more to talk to Jace. To hold him. Be held by him.

  His keys and wallet were still on the counter, meaning he couldn’t have gone far.

  Monitor in hand, she checked the front porch, but he wasn’t there. “Jace?”

  When he didn’t reply, she headed for the backyard. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Jace!”

  “Damn, woman, can’t you just leave me in peace?” He stepped out of the shadowy pine forest bordering the lawn.

  “I would have been glad to if you’d told me where you were going.” Hands on her hips, she added, “I was worried.” Scared to death really, when she thought of the possibility of never seeing him again. Melodramatic, but there you had it. She needed him. Just like she needed his girls.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, cupping her face with his hands. “I needed to blow off some steam.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said, giving him an awkward hug with the baby monitor still in her hand. “You were right. If anything, I should’ve stayed out of the whole conversation. It’s none of my business.”

  “That’s just it, Em. If you’re going to be my wife—the twins’ mom—this issue very much involves you. Someone’s going to get hurt. What you need to decide is whether that someone is Vicki, you or me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jace stormed into the house, grabbed his keys and wallet, then left. He knew retreating in the middle of battle was never a smart move, but when his frustration rose to its current level, nothing good happened.

  He drove aimlessly for about an hour, hitting the old highway that ran along the beach. He rolled down his windows, dragging in the warm, salty air, searching for mental clarity he feared may never come.

  One part of him felt Emma feeling sorry for Vicki was traitorous. Another part got where she was coming from, but seriously didn’t like it.

  Truth be known, a good portion of his inner turmoil had to do with sudden doubts over whether he’d made a mistake in launching such a hasty relationship with the nanny. All along, had Granola been right? Really, what did Jace know about Emma, other than the fact that she took great care of his girls and she was a fantastic kisser? What if Vicki’s arrival had made her realize it wasn’t him she loved, but his babies? What if urging Vicki to take the girls was Em’s version of an easy out?

  Maybe his best course of action would be slowing things down. Yes, they would remain friends, and he prayed Emma would stay on as a nanny, but as for marrying her? His aching hurt urged him to slow down.

  BACK HOME, Jace found Emma asleep in his recliner, the baby monitor on her lap. Her beauty was ethereal. Milky skin highlighted by her spill of dark hair. She was small in stature, but never had he been more aware of her slight build than now, seeing her in the big chair. She had a fragility about her that left him questioning his harsh stance. Maybe more than he needed her, she needed him. But then, playing the devil’s advocate, was that a good enough reason to marry?

  Chest tightening, he soundlessly closed and locked the door, tossed his keys and wallet on the sofa, then scooped her into his arms, carrying her to a more comfortable position in their bed.

  With a faint mew, she shifted to fit herself to him as he carried her. “You’re home…” her voice was sleep-sexy. The way she twined her arms around him, exhaling warm, moist breaths against his bare neck was erotic as hell.

  “Sorry I took off on you like that,” he managed, turning sideways to get them through the bedroom door.

  “I understand.”

  “Thanks.” After laying her on the bed, he snatched his pillow and an afghan from the back of her reading chair.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, rising on her elbows.

  “Until we figure things out, I thought it might be best for me to take the couch.”

  “Oh.” Her single word conveyed so much. Disappointment, confusion, even a
nger.

  “It’s nothing personal. I just need some distance. You know, time to get my head on straight.”

  “Sure. I get it.”

  Great. Because looking at her in the moonlight, he wasn’t entirely sure he got it. If they were to have any shot at making it as a couple, wasn’t the whole point to lean on Em when he was mixed up? To let her support him when he couldn’t handle life on his own?

  “Jace?”

  “Yeah?” His tone came out rougher than he’d intended, especially considering how soft and inviting her voice had been.

  “Never mind.” Had she intended to beg him back to her side?

  “No, what were you about to say?” Because if she did want him beside her, he was physically and mentally weary enough to comply.

  “Nothing. Goodnight.”

  IT WAS official. Emma’s beautiful new life was falling apart.

  Along with Vicki’s announcement that she would be staying in Olive with a college friend—indefinitely—an awkwardness had come between her and Jace. The past week, during the day, he kept his usual schedule. She followed her usual routine. Breakfast conversation was painfully stiff and polite. Jace no longer called just to chat at lunch. At night, instead of caring for Bronwyn and Bea together, Jace packed them up and met Vicki. Be it a park, mall or the beach, he spent more time with her, and less with Emma.

  Emma wanted to break the wall between them, but how? His rationale in being with Vicki by supervising her time with the girls was spot-on. As was his reasoning for not wanting the woman camping at their home, by her mere presence causing Emma pain. All of his words and deeds were noble, so why, then, did Emma feel they were more like strangers than an engaged couple?

  Without the infants to care for, Emma’s evenings were a chore to get through. She’d busied herself with painting the kitchen a sunny yellow. She’d deep-cleaned everything from the mini-blinds to the baseboards. She’d scrubbed the bathtub and toilets and even resorted to calling her mother in an effort to combat mounting loneliness and fear.

  Fear of losing Bea and Bronwyn.

  Fear of losing Jace.