Counting Stars (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jane felt her heart leap, and it was all she could do to restrain herself from running into his arms. She still held the twins, but their crying ceased to bother her. Paul’s name formed on her lips, and her eyes welled with tears. She’d pretended she didn’t miss him so much anymore, but she had. He looked so good—all tan and healthy. Even his hair was growing back. A Bible verse from a long-ago Sunday School lesson trailed through her mind.

“And not a hair on their heads shall be lost.”

A ridiculous thing to think of right now, especially since he was scowling at her.

“What’s wrong with them?” he demanded in a voice that wasn’t quite Paul’s.

Jane’s attention was pulled back to the howling twins. Before she could reply, he stepped over the threshold and took Mark from her.

“It’s all right little guy. Your uncle’s here now. I’ll take care of you.”

Uncle?
The word went screaming through Jane’s mind, snapping her out of the trance she’d been under since opening the door a half minute ago. Her heart plummeted as sadness, anger, and fear threatened to overwhelm her all at once. Paul wasn’t here. Of course not. It was only his brother shown up at last. His negligent, unfeeling brother—

“Uncle Pete has got you now. Yeah, you’re okay.”

Jane watched, dumbfounded, as he walked past her, through the living room and into the kitchen. Left with no choice, she followed, but feeling wary about having him in her house, she kept the front door open.

“This Mark’s?” He held the bottle up in front of her.

Jane nodded. “Yes, but you can’t just come right in here and—” And
what?
She watched as he held Mark in the crook of his arm and began feeding him. Almost immediately, Mark quieted, his attention focused on draining the bottle.

Madison leaned forward, arms outstretched toward the stranger.

Jane handed Madison a cracker and pulled her back, putting an arm protectively around her. She stared hard at Paul’s imposter. Piercing blue eyes—nothing like Paul’s—stared back at her. How had she possibly mistaken . . . ? How could she have thought . . . ? It didn’t matter now. She just needed to get this space-invading uncle away from the twins and out of her house. Best to be polite and usher him out as quickly as possible. She took a deep breath and stuck out her free hand.

“Hi. I’m Jane.”

“So I gathered,” he said dryly, not bothering to take her hand.

Jane was about to excuse his rudeness and chalk it up to his probably not knowing how to hold a baby and a bottle on the same side, when he ruined it by openly looking her over, frowning, no doubt, at her stained shirt and disheveled hair.

She tried one more time to be nice. “Listen, it’s almost the twins’ bedtime, and it’s really important they stick to their routine. So why don’t you just put Mark on the blanket over there, and tomorrow we can work out some sort of visitation schedule.”

He sent her a scathing look. “
Visitation?
I don’t think so.”

Jane suppressed a shudder. No wonder Paul hadn’t wanted anything to do with his brother. Why on earth had he involved him in the twins’ custody? Were the ties of blood that strong?

She handed Madison another cracker and forced herself to stay calm. She’d read that babies could sense a parent’s mood, and she certainly didn’t want the twins feeling any of her anxiety.

“Please.” She spoke in her soothing therapist voice. “Give Mark to me and leave.”

Pete ignored her and walked into the family room, settling in the rocking chair. “You know, I’ve got as much a right to these children as you do—more in fact. So you can forget any other silly ideas you have about keeping me away.”

Jane felt genuine panic begin to set in. What was he talking about? She hadn’t done anything to keep him away. He’d kept himself away—off flying his helicopter in some dangerous corner of the world. A sudden thought occurred to her. What if he’d been discharged from the military because of some mental trauma? Maybe
that
was the problem. Maybe that was why he’d shown up out of the blue.

She watched him rocking Mark. He seemed normal enough—though rude—but was it possible he had post-traumatic stress disorder? Jane tried to recall the undergraduate class she’d taken that covered the subject. She couldn’t remember much—except that a lot of veterans from the first Gulf War had been affected by it. What were the chances she was dealing with a discharged, deranged military man?

Willing her voice not to tremble, Jane spoke again. “The twins
really
need to get to bed, so it would be much better if we could continue this in the morning.” She moved toward the rocker. “Just hand Mark to me and—”

“I’ll put him to bed.”

“No,” Jane said, more loudly than she’d intended. “Please, just—you need to leave.”

Pete considered a moment. “All right. I can take Mark with me for the night then.”

“No!” Jane exclaimed. “You can’t
take
him.” She backed up, pulling the phone from its charger on the wall. She blocked the entrance to the living room. “You have exactly ten seconds to put Mark down and get out of my house before I call the police.”

Pete shook his head in disbelief. “You are way too stressed out.” He took the empty bottle from Mark’s mouth and lifted him to his shoulder. Mark began to cry. “Still hungry, little guy?” Pete asked. He looked up at Jane. “Hand me that other bottle, will you?”

She shook her head. “It’s Maddie’s. Ten, nine, eight—”

“Can’t you make her another one?” Pete asked. “Mark is still hungry. Look at him.”

“Seven, six . . . I mean it, I’ll call the police.”

He looked up at her, accusation in his eyes. “Go ahead. Then I can tell them this poor kid is starving. Maybe you ought to try feeding him more often. He might gain some weight.”

Jane used her thumb to punch
nine
on the phone. “I do feed him. He has acid reflux and throws up a lot. Now put him down and get out of my house.”

Madison leaned forward again, her cries escalating.

Pete smiled at her. “It’s all right, darling. You hungry, too?”

“
One
,” Jane said punching the button on the phone. “She
was
eating when you interrupted us. Now put my son down and get out.”

Pete’s smile faded. He rose from the rocker. “He is
not
your son,” he said in a voice so chilling it scared her.

“I’m the only mother they’ve known, and I’ve cared for them while you’ve—”

“Served my country. I came home as soon as I could. I’ve been counting the days until I could be with these kids, and first thing, you try—”

“You never called or wrote,” Jane accused. Madison grabbed for the phone, hitting several buttons at once. Jane pried Maddie’s fingers from the phone and held it up out of her reach. “I didn’t have any idea that you wanted to be a part of their lives. I didn’t even know if
you
were alive, and I certainly didn’t expect—”

“9-1-1 dispatch. Do you have an emergency?”

Jane stared at the phone in her hand.

“Go ahead,” Pete urged, smirking. “Report me. I’m sure my ten seconds are past.”

She put the phone to her ear. “Hello.” She listened for a moment. “No. There is no emergency. My daughter accidentally pushed the buttons. Sorry to trouble you.”

Pete’s eyebrows rose and he gave her a look that clearly said he was calling her bluff.

That, along with the dispatcher’s insistent questions, was all she needed. Jane spoke again. “Well yes, I’d
thought
about calling the police because a man forced his way into my house,” she explained, surprised to find her voice shaking, more from anger now than fear. “Yes. He’s still here, and he’s holding my son.” She paused, listening again.

Pete walked to the counter and picked up Madison’s bottle. He gave it to Mark, who began drinking as eagerly as before.

“No. He isn’t hurting him,” Jane continued. “He’s—he’s feeding him a bottle.” Another pause. “I don’t know if he’s armed.”

She thought she saw amusement flicker in Pete’s eyes as he shook his head. She listened to the dispatcher’s instructions. “No. I
can’t
leave. No, I’m not restrained,” she said, exasperated. I just won’t leave my baby. Yes. That’s the address. But as I said earlier, we’re fine. He knows I’ve called you, and I’m sure he’s going to leave
right now.”

Pete walked closer and leaned toward the phone. “Sorry. I can’t talk right now,” he said loudly. “I’m feeding a very hungry baby, but you should know I’m this boy’s uncle and legal guardian.”

Jane frowned at him as she spoke into the phone. “He claims he is, but I’ve never met him before. He just showed up at my house, walked right in and took my baby. Yes. I’ll wait on the li—”

Jane gasped as the phone was pulled out of her hand. She watched as Pete hit the end call button.

“Before the police arrive, we need to get a few things straight, Miss Warner. The first being that my name
is
Peter Bryant and I am co-guardian—with
you,
unfortunately—of these two wonderful children. After tonight, I’ll be certain to carry documentation with me at all times, lest you should forget.”

“I didn’t know—”

“Don’t lie,” Pete warned, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t tolerate liars, and I certainly won’t allow one to be involved in raising my brother’s children. Even if your mother hadn’t told you about me, you recognized me. I saw it in your eyes when you opened the door. Paul
was
my twin, and I’m sure our resemblance hasn’t changed that much over the last couple of years.”

“My
mother?
” Jane asked. “What has she got to do with this?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “And, yes. I did see similarities, but you still had no business walking right in and taking Mark. You could have at least had the decency to introduce yourself and then
ask
if you could see Mark and Madison.” Jane stepped around Pete and went into the kitchen. Pointing to the phone she said, “
You
had better call them back and explain, or we’re going to have a real mess.” She grabbed a bottle of apple juice from the fridge and gave it to Madison. “You’re lucky Mark didn’t start screaming. Babies this age have stranger anxiety. They need awhile to get to know someone new before they trust that person to pick them up or—”

“They
do
know me. I spent all morning with them.”

“You
what?”

“Didn’t your mom tell you?” Pete asked, looking as perplexed as Jane felt. He stood on the opposite side of the counter. “I spent a couple of hours playing with the twins before I went out and worked on your swing set.”

“
You!”
Jane exclaimed. “You’re the one who came into my yard? Who poured cement too close to the lilac bush? You’re my—
neighbor?”
A look of horror crossed her face as realization hit.

“I’m not too thrilled with the deal, either,” Pete said, scowling at her. “And while we’re on the subject, you’re driving my Jeep. And that’s my sofa over there too.” He nodded to the corner of the family room. “But I’m okay with all of that. In fact, I was trying to be optimistic about the whole situation until this evening when I saw that you’d covered up the fence and chained the gate shut.” He spoke the last as they heard the sound of a car out front.

Realizing the police were probably outside, Jane tensed. Hadn’t she read somewhere that it was a felony—or at least a misdemeanor—to request emergency services when they weren’t really needed?

Peter kissed Mark on the forehead and laid him down on the blanket in the family room. “See you soon, buddy,” he said.

Jane followed him.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Pete touched Madison’s hair as he walked past.

Jane sent him a panicked look. Out front she heard car doors slamming. “The gate key is on the counter,” she offered. “You could go out the back, and I’ll tell them you got away.”

Pete threw her a look of disgust. “You’re joking, right?” Footsteps sounded on the walk.

Jane turned and watched as he left the kitchen and went through the living room. She saw him raise his arms just before he reached the front door.

“I’m the man you want, officers. I am unarmed and coming out the front door.”

Jane held her breath as he stepped through the door.
You have to stop this,
her conscience demanded.
Don’t make him pay for your mistake.
Before she could act on her thoughts, she heard Mark gagging. Whirling around, she saw that he was throwing up—or trying to. Peter had placed him on his back, and now Mark was choking on his own vomit.

All else forgotten, Jane dropped to the blanket, laid Madison down, and scooped up Mark. With one hand she began patting his back while her other hand raised his little arms to open his airway. He continued gagging, and it seemed like forever before a stream of sour milk finally projected from his mouth, splattering across her lap and the blanket. Mark cried, and Jane felt tears running down her own face. She’d never been so scared or so relieved. She pulled him close, rocking back and forth, her head bent close to his. At last he began to calm down.

“Everything all right, miss?”

Jane looked up and saw a policeman standing over her. “Y-yes,” she stammered. “He was choking, and I was afraid . . .” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly remembered
why
there was a police officer in her house. She leaned to the side, looking for Peter.

“If he’s okay now—” The officer nodded to Mark. “Then I have a few questions.”

Still holding Mark, Jane got to her feet. She walked past the officer and into the living room. He followed. The room was empty, so she went to the front door and looked outside.

“That man—the one who came out with his hands up—do you know where he is?” Jane asked.

“Not to worry,” the officer said, smiling at her reassuringly. “Right now he’s in the back of a patrol car on his way to the station.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Mother,” Jane said again. The last officer had just left, without charging her with anything, thankfully. Jane knew it was fortunate her parents had arrived when they did. Her mother’s explanation had clarified the situation for Jane and the questioning officer.

Jane ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “I’ve got to go down there. That’s all there is to it. Pete doesn’t have a car and—” She looked at her father. “There shouldn’t be bail to post, should there?”

“Shouldn’t be, since you’re not pressing charges.” Her father settled on the sofa that Jane now knew belonged to Peter. She looked around the room. What else of his was she using?

“Mom, could you bathe Mark for me and try to get him to take another bottle? Slowly.”

“Of course, dear.” Marsha rose from the rocker where she’d been holding Mark. Maddie lay asleep on the blanket, juice bottle still in hand. “You really shouldn’t give her juice at night, Jane. Her teeth will—”

“I
know,
Mother.” Jane pulled her coat from the front closet. “I never do, but I was a bit stressed. First I thought I’d seen Paul’s ghost, then I had this pushy guy in my house. I thought he was going to try to take the twins . . . Why doesn’t anyone
get
why I was upset?” she asked, feeling angry all over again. She grabbed her purse from the counter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time,” Marsha called.

* * *

Jane parked in one of the thirty-minute spaces in front of the police station. She turned off the Jeep and took a deep breath. The whole way over she’d tried to rehearse what to say, but nothing came to mind, except the inevitable “I’m sorry.” And she was sorry—for the fence, for calling the police—even if Maddie had dialed that last
one
—and mostly for her behavior tonight. Since learning that Paul had appointed joint custody for the twins, she’d been terrified his brother might try to take them away. Tonight, she’d given him reason to. She could imagine a custody hearing with a psychologist testifying about her absurd behavior.

“Miss Warner is given to extreme mood swings, bouts of hysteria and—” Jane popped a fun-size Three Musketeers bar in her mouth as she entered the police station. “—an unhealthy addiction to chocolate.”

Chewing quickly, she walked to the counter and waited until the officer there looked up at her.

“I’m here to pick someone up,” she said, careful not to open her mouth too wide in case she had chocolate on her teeth.

“Name?” the officer asked.

“Pau—Peter Bryant.”
What is wrong with me?
Placing her arms on the counter, she leaned forward. “He was brought in about half an hour ago. But it was all a big misunderstanding. You see, my mother hadn’t told me he was back from Iraq. And I was already worried about this strange neighbor who’d come in my yard while I was at work. So when Peter came over, I wasn’t expecting it, and he just walked right in and—”

The officer held up his hand to stop her. “I heard about you. Have a seat and I’ll tell Detective Mitchell you’re here.”

“I thought we’d taken care of everything at the house,” Jane said anxiously.

“Just a formality, miss.” He picked up the phone.

Jane nodded and took a seat, restraining herself from digging through her purse for another candy bar.

Five minutes passed before Peter walked into the lobby.

“Hi,” he said, looking down at her.

“Hi,” she said, standing. “Are you um—all done?”

“Free to go,” Pete said. “Unless you’ve come to press charges.”

Instead of rising to his bait, Jane clutched her purse and walked past him to the parking lot. Pulling her keys from her coat pocket, she unlocked the passenger-side door. She turned and found herself face-to-face with Pete.

For a split second their eyes met, then he stepped back and opened the car door.

“I should have said thank you for coming to pick me up. I thought I’d have to wait until my boss was back from his date with his wife. ”

“You’re welcome,” Jane said stiffly. “I’m sorry you were here in the first place. I—don’t know what came over me tonight.”

Pete’s eyebrows raised. “Maternal instinct, maybe? You were right. I shouldn’t have just walked in your house.” He motioned for her to get in the car.

“Oh,” Jane said, realizing he meant for her to be the passenger. Reluctantly, she handed him the keys and got in the car. He closed the door behind her.

Pete walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the engine. “Wow,” he said, looking at the odometer as he moved the seat back. “A lot of miles on this thing. I bought it new in 2000.”

“It made a lot of trips to hospitals—several times a day even, for a couple of months.”

“Mmm.” Pete nodded. “Hadn’t thought about that. I guess it wasn’t just Paul and Tamara out driving off into the sunset.” He looked at Jane out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her reaction to Tamara’s name.

“Probably not,” she said. “Listen, I should get home. Mark threw up—right after you walked out the front door. My parents are there now, but I need to make sure he’s okay. And I need to get cleaned up.” She brushed a hand across her sweats. “Sorry about the smell.”

“Mark threw up?” Pete asked, concerned.

Jane nodded. “Yeah. He’s got a really sensitive stomach. He has to eat slow and burp often. Otherwise . . .”

“So it was my fault.”

“Basically,” Jane said with a hint of a smile.

“And you didn’t change before coming to get me?” He took in her appearance, from her tousled hair to her stained shirt and sweats.

“No.” Jane glanced away. “I thought it was more important I get down here.”

He detected irritation in her voice. “I wasn’t trying to be critical. I’m grateful—and impressed. Most women I know wouldn’t leave the house looking like that.”

Jane turned to him, astonishment on her face. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes,” Pete said adamantly.

She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. “Please, just take me home.”

Without another word, Pete put the car in reverse, backed up, then left the parking lot. The ride home was silent. He kept his eyes on the road, and Jane looked out her window. He knew he’d hurt her feelings, and he felt bad. It seemed like that was all he was ever capable of when it came to women.
It’s why you’re still single at thirty-four,
the thought came, bringing to the surface all the guilt he’d carried around the past two and a half years.

For a minute he wished he were back in Iraq where life was, for him anyway, less complicated. But then he thought of the twins. Already, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them. He was surprised at the pull he felt toward Mark and Madison, and he didn’t know if it was because they were Tamara and Paul’s, or if it was because he had no one else. Whatever the reason, he had to try harder with Jane Warner if he expected to be a part of their life.

He pulled into Jane’s driveway. “Do you have a garage door opener somewhere?” he asked, feeling along the sun visor.

“In the console,” Jane said, opening it and handing him the remote. “Aren’t you going to take the Jeep with you?”

He shook his head. “And leave you with two babies and no car? You must really think I’m a cad.”

“Well,” Jane said. “If the shoe fits . . .”

“Okay, I probably deserve that,” Pete admitted. He waited for the garage door to open, then pulled the Jeep inside. He turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, but made no move to get out.

“Let’s try this again.” He handed the keys to Jane, then kept his hand extended. “Hi. My name is Peter Bryant, and I have the good fortune to be co-guardian of my brother’s children with you. I am appreciative of all you’ve done for Mark and Madison, and I would be grateful if you would teach me all I need to know so I can be involved in their lives. They’re the only family I have.”

He caught the nearly imperceptible softening in Jane’s eyes as she took his hand.

“Jane Warner. Pleased to meet you.”

Pete held on. “And I am sorry for offending you tonight. And for future times when I will no doubt do the same. One of my least-endearing qualities is being brutally honest.”

Jane chuckled. “Brutal is right. Tonight has probably scarred me for years.” She tugged her hand away. “But I forgive you, and as long as we’re being completely honest, I have to tell you that I really hoped I’d never meet you. I didn’t have any idea Paul would do this to me—to us.” She looked down at her lap and began idly twisting her watch. “He told me
I
would be Mark and Madison’s guardian. He never said anything about joint custody with you. But right after Paul’s funeral his attorney called—”

“Richard Morgan,” Pete supplied.

“You know him?” Jane asked, looking up again.

“Met with him yesterday,” Pete said, deciding now was not the time to mention Richard Morgan was his boss.

“Oh, right,” Jane said. “When he told me about you, I was really upset. And then . . .” She paused. “Then I was scared.”

“Of what?” he asked, surprised at the sudden vulnerability he saw in her eyes.

“You. I was afraid you would try to take Mark and Madison away, and by then—” Her breath caught. “I already loved them so much.”

Pete looked away, leaning against the headrest. Hadn’t he wanted that very thing—been planning it, even—to take the twins away from Jane Warner? “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Jane nodded. “You’re the blood relative, so I was afraid you would win.” She bit her lip. “I’ve been so afraid of this.
Please,
don’t. I know I didn’t give birth to them, but I love them as if I had.”

The car was quiet as Pete digested this information. He
was
a cad—and a lot of other things for thinking he’d just walk right in and take over the care of the twins. He’d only been thinking of himself and what he wanted. Or didn’t want—like a woman complicating his life. Never once, until now, had he considered how that woman might feel or, even more important, what was best for Mark and Madison. He hated to admit it, but from what he’d seen so far, Jane Warner was best for them.

She spoke again. “Did you know I was there the day they were born? It’s kind of a quirky twist of fate, but I was at the newborn ICU with my nephew when they brought Mark and Madison in for the first time. I heard the nurses talking about their mother. I felt so bad for them.”

“Is that when you met Paul?”

Jane shook her head. “It was about six weeks later. He’d put an ad in the paper.”

Pete looked incredulous. “An
ad?”

“Yes.” Jane smiled. “You know, our first meeting was very much like this one.”

“You got Paul arrested, too?” Pete ran his finger over the instrument panel, wiping dust away.

“No,” Jane said with a laugh. “But it was a disaster. In less than fifteen minutes, he had offended me, and I walked out. Date over.”

I don’t want to know about Paul’s relationship with Jane,
Pete reminded himself, but couldn’t curb his curiosity. “So how did you end up together?”

“I learned he had a baby in the hospital—I didn’t know he had
two
until later—and for some reason I felt compelled to go to the hospital and see his baby.”

“For some reason, huh?” Pete said, not buying it.

“Really,” Jane insisted. “It was like I was prompt—call it fate if you like. All I know is that I’m so grateful I followed whatever it was and went.”

“What happened when you got there?”

“Paul found me standing at the NICU window, staring at Madison.” Jane smiled wistfully. “He came up to me, stuck out his hand—just like you did a few minutes ago—and said something like, ‘Hi. I’m Paul. I have terminal cancer. My wife died in a car accident, and I’m looking for a woman to raise my children.’” Jane had a faraway look.

“And it was love at first sight.” Pete couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He knew he shouldn’t be irritated with Jane. She’d done nothing wrong, but he couldn’t help but feel angry with Paul. How could he have forgotten Tamara so quickly?

Jane nodded. “I fell in love with Maddie the first time I held her.”

And Paul. What about Paul?
Pete wanted to ask.
When did you fall in love with him? And how was it that he loved you, when he’d been married to the most wonderful woman on earth?

Pete drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “So what was your first date?”

“We didn’t really date,” Jane said. “Unless you count visiting the hospital cafeteria. He took me out for macaroni and cheese and Jell-O a couple of times.” She grinned at Pete. “Maybe you’ll be a bigger spender, huh?”

Pete frowned. “Maybe.” Did she think he was just going to step in and take Paul’s place?

As if sensing she’d said something wrong, Jane grabbed the door handle. “I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

“Forget it,” Pete said. A thought occurred to him. “I’m wondering, though, why Paul didn’t just put the twins up for adoption? Why would he advertise for a woman and not an adoptive couple?”

“He did think about it,” Jane said. “But he changed his mind.” She got out of the car.

Pete did the same. He shut his door and walked toward the back entrance to the garage. “What changed his mind?”

Jane looked at him across the hood of the Jeep. “I’ve thought about that a lot and there’s only one reason I can think of.” She spoke quietly. “You.”