grumbled.
Faith pushed a wavy strand of wheat-colored hair behind her ear and said, “He’ll come. Something must have happened. Traffic, maybe. An accident. A fender bender.”
“A fender bender that killed his cell phone? You know he doesn’t go anywhere without that thing.”
Faith nodded. “I know.”
“He’d better be dead or I’m going to kill him.”
Faith shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”
Olivia did the unthinkable. She burst into tears.
Faith enfolded her in a hug and rocked her. “Sweetie, you’re scared.” She paused for a second before adding, “I talked to Zac today. He’s coming by later, we’ll get him to go look for Anthony.”
“I can’t bother Zac,” Olivia blubbered against Faith’s shoulder. “He’s a big-city cop now. Besides, he hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“I told him I was never going to talk to him again.”
“He’s my brother. I tell him that every two weeks.”
“And I don’t cry. You know I don’t cry.”
“I know. Come on, calm down, all these raging hormones are to be expected. Hey, I know something that will cheer you up. I have baby pictures. Want to see? They’re on my cell phone.”
“Of course I want to see,” Olivia said, accepting a wad of tissue from Faith and wiping her eyes. She took a few deep breaths. Faith helped her settle back on the mattress and pull a lightweight blanket over her bare legs.
Olivia sighed. Back in bed where she started.
What she wouldn’t give to gather up her new family and go home to Westerly. How was that for irony? She’d spent twenty-seven years trying to get out of the place and now all she wanted was to get back.
Perching lightly on the edge of the mattress, Faith fiddled with the phone. “Okay, here we go. I took them in order so you’d know who’s who.”
The tiny screen filled with the image of a very pink baby with its eyes squeezed shut. Olivia had named her babies weeks before, deciding on who got which name based solely on birth order. She’d asked Anthony what he thought and he’d agreed that was fine with him.
Had he looked bored with the subject?
No, she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t fair.
“Jillian,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with new tears.
“She’s the biggest at four pounds, six ounces,” Faith said. “Look, she has your hair.”
“They all have my hair,” Olivia said lovingly.
“Think how family pictures are going to look,” Faith said. “You and the girls with long, black hair, and Anthony with a blond buzz cut.”
Olivia swallowed a lump as she scrolled down to the next photo. Another baby, not quite as pink, face not so scrunched. Olivia was glad to see the little wristbands each child wore—it was a fear of hers that she’d mix her children up, call them by the wrong name…She wondered if she’d ever feel secure enough to take the bracelets off.
“That’s Brianna,” Faith said.
“Three pounds, eight ounces, right?”
“You heard the doctor?”
“Yes.” A wave of frustration surged through her body. “Where’s my buzzer? I want to talk to that nurse—”
“Look at the rest of the pictures first. Then I’ll go find a wheelchair and we’ll break you out of this joint.”
“What would I do without you?” Olivia asked, glancing up at her friend.
“Founder on the rocks of disaster?”
Olivia smiled as she moved on to the next baby. This little doll looked like her sister, Brianna. The truth was, wearing just diapers and little stocking caps, they all looked more or less alike. Time would change that—maybe. No one was sure right now if they were all identical or two sets of twins or triplets and a single—there was no easy way to tell.
“And this is Juliet, named after your mother,” Faith said. “Look at her little nose.”
“They all have little noses and rosebud mouths,” Olivia murmured. They were all exquisite.
“And last but not least, Antoinette,” Faith said.
“Named after her father,” Olivia said, touching the two-inch screen with a fingertip.
They were so impossibly defenseless. They would need time and care to catch up to their full-term peers, time and care to grow strong and robust, and it would be up to her to see they got it.
Where did that thought come from? Anthony would show up. Wouldn’t he?
A jolt of white-hot anger cut through her worry. Anthony should be with the babies right now, watching over them when she couldn’t, caring about what happened to them, instead of leaving it all to Olivia’s family and friends.
Shame immediately followed the anger. What if he really was lying hurt and battered somewhere? What if he’d tried to come? What if someone had attacked him, robbed him, left him to die—what kind of beast was she?
The door opened again and both women tensed, but it wasn’t Anthony who walked into the room. Zachary Bishop, Faith’s brother, looked from one anxious face to the other and stopped dead in his tracks. “If this isn’t a good time—”
“Come on in, Zac,” Faith said as she slipped off the bed. His smile of greeting for his sister faded as his gaze sought out and held Olivia’s.
Unlike petite Faith, Zac was tall and rangy, with straight brown hair cut shorter than usual, intense blue eyes and a broken nose that had healed crooked in an interesting way. A faded scar ran diagonally across his chin and another bisected his left eyebrow, both remnants of a drunken brawl he broke up his first year as a Deputy Sheriff back in Westerly.
But he wasn’t a deputy anymore. He was a Seattle cop, a position he had taken while she and Anthony had been on their honeymoon. Still, she’d be willing to bet he was the same old Zac underneath the fancy new suit, a man of swift action and few words.
“How’s the new mother?” he asked, and to her relief, his voice sounded the way it always had. Maybe they could put the past behind them and be friends again.
“The truth? I’m going a little stir-crazy.”
He produced a quartet of pink roses from behind his back and handed them to her.
The simple message of the flowers touched her more than the huge bouquets that lined the shelf, sent by everyone she knew and some people she didn’t. “One for each baby,” she said softly, fingering the
