EXPECTANT BRIDE-TO-BE Read online

  Or maybe she didn't want to burst her own bubble. She, too, liked the idea of having a houseful of children with Jack Randall. In fact, she wanted that so much, lying there with him, that she had to let herself trust in the possibility, at least for what remained of their magical night together.

  "I can't believe you're talking about next time when I still have most of this time ahead of me," she said.

  "Ahead of us," Jack reminded her, giving her another hug. "Now, what about dinner? It sounds like the rain is letting up. Do you want to go out?"

  "I'd really rather stay in, unless—"

  "I'd like that better, too. So, we'll stay in."

  "I have all the fixings for a really monster omelet on hand, and there are some of my grandmother's homemade biscuits in the freezer. How does breakfast for dinner sound to you?"

  "Perfect."

  With Jack looking rather cute in her old terry-cloth robe, and Abby feeling sexy in her short, royal blue silk robe, they bumped around the kitchen together, laughing and talking like a couple of old married people as they prepared their omelet.

  And later, with the dishes done and the evening stretching ahead of them, they drifted back to her bedroom, one as eager as the other to pick up where they'd left off, alternately playful and intense in their lovemaking until, exhausted at last, they curled close, arms around each other, and slept.

  * * *

  The last thing Jack wanted to do Saturday morning was leave Abby alone. The last time he'd done so, there had been hell to pay, and he didn't want to risk having history repeat itself. He had traded the hours he'd taken off from the clinic Friday afternoon for Aaron Post's Saturday morning hours, however, so he had no choice but to show up there.

  Jack would have much preferred spending the early hours of the day snuggled close to Abby, finally making serious plans with her for their future together. She had to realize how much he loved her now—as much as, if not more than, he had loved her that fateful night in December.

  But he wanted to tell her, face-to-face, in the clear light of a new day, so that any lingering doubts she might have would finally be put to rest. After last night, Abby wouldn't be able to tell herself that his only real interest in her revolved around the baby, and Jack wanted to make sure that she could admit it, once and for all.

  He had kept her up half the night, making love to her, though. As a result, she was sleeping so soundly that it seemed criminal to wake her only to tell her that he had to leave. And leave he must if he wanted to be at the clinic by eight o'clock.

  He had to go by his apartment, take a shower, dress, and eat something, all in just over an hour. He would be free again by early afternoon, though, and he intended to come back here. He and Abby could talk just as well then as now. All he had to do was leave a note telling her what he had in mind.

  In the kitchen, Jack retrieved his wrinkled shorts and T-shirt from the dryer and pulled them on. Then he found paper and a pen in the same place he had that night in December.

  But the note he wrote to Abby this time was as different from the note he'd written then as night from day. In this note, he promised to be back soon to say to her all the things he should have said in December. And instead of leaving it on the kitchen table, Jack took it back to her bedroom and propped it on the nightstand where she would be sure to see it as soon as she awakened.

  Tucking the bedcovers up around her shoulders, Jack smiled down at her, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and reverence so intense that tears stung his eyes.

  He had come so close to ruining all that they could have together out of his groundless fears and uncertainty. But he had been lucky. Abby had given him a second chance. And he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she would never regret it.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

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  Abby awoke to the sound of a car engine turning over and knew at once that it must be Jack leaving for the clinic. Before they had finally fallen asleep, he had said something—actually groaned something—about having to go to work in the morning. So she knew, too, that he wasn't fleeing out of fear as he had said he'd done in December.

  Though even if he hadn't mentioned the hours he had to put in at the clinic she wouldn't have thought that history was repeating itself. Not after last night…

  As she had that long-ago morning in December, Abby lay alone in her narrow bed, her muscles just the slightest bit stiff, perhaps even a tad sore, from the rigors of her lovemaking with Jack. Delightful rigors, she thought, smiling as she stretched her arms over her head languidly, remembering how he had touched her here, kissed her there, and there, and there. Recalling, too, the words he had spoken as he'd held her close.

  You are everything to me … everything … Abby Summers.

  She had believed him in those wondrous moments of afterglow. Had believed, finally, that she had a place all her own in his heart. A place where Abby, just Abby—the woman she was now, not the old friend or the mother of his child—was, and always would be, cherished.

  Stretching again, Abby rolled to her side, her smile widening as she felt the baby move deep inside her. On the nightstand, propped against the base of the lamp, was a single sheet of paper, folded once.

  From Jack, of course, she thought with a momentary pang of trepidation. Hard to forget the wording of the last note he had left for her. But this one would be different. After last night, it had to be.

  And it was, Abby saw at once as she sat up and unfolded the sheet of paper. He would be finished at the clinic by one o'clock at the latest, he had written in his distinctively bold strokes. Then he would come back to the house. Could she please be there? He had something important to say to her—something he should have said in December, and now wanted to say in person.

  Holding the note close to her heart, Abby blinked at the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. Last night he had said she was everything to him. And he had shown her, in the most intimate ways possible, that he loved her.

  But he hadn't actually spoken those three words aloud—words that were undeniably magical in meaning and so utterly filled with promise. He hadn't taken her hands in his, looked her solemnly in the eye, and said, "I love you." But he would say it to her that afternoon, and she would say it back to him. And they would live happily ever after as she had dreamed of for so long.

  There wouldn't be any more need of pretending. Once spoken aloud and acknowledged, their love for each other would finally be as real, as lasting and as true as the diamond ring she so proudly wore.

  Folding Jack's note carefully, Abby tucked it into the drawer of the nightstand, then slipped out of bed, grabbed her robe and headed for the bathroom. She took her time in the shower, remembering the feel of Jack's hands on her as she lathered her lavender soap on a washcloth and smoothed it over her skin.

  Her breasts were more tender than ever after all the attention Jack had given them. So, too, the juncture of her thighs, but not to an uncomfortable degree. Their lovemaking had been intense, but Jack had been incredibly gentle with her.

  Abby also decided to wash her hair. She had unwoven her braid after they'd eaten dinner last night, but Jack hadn't given her time to do much else. Her damp hair had dried in a tangled mess that made her look like a wild woman.

  Not a bad look, really, she thought with a smile. But one better suited to lascivious nights than demure days.

  Abby's stomach growled demandingly as she finished drying her hair, and she dressed quickly in a white T-shirt and her denim jumper. Becoming enough for the afternoon ahead with Jack, but also serviceable enough for the task she'd set for herself during the morning hours.

  As she poured juice into a glass, then cereal and milk into a bowl and put the kettle on to boil for a cup of tea, Abby acknowledged that she'd put off going through her mother's things long enough.

  Larissa's will and the deed to her house had been kept in Hank and Judith's safe deposit box, so retrieving those documents hadn't requi
red a search through the file box full of papers Abby knew her mother had stashed on a closet shelf.

  Abby assumed she would find little, if anything, of importance in the file box—more than likely filled with copies of old income tax returns, receipts and appliance warranties, and bank statements. But she wanted to sort through everything just in case.

  Her mother could have had a savings account or a certificate of deposit she had forgotten to mention to Abby or Judith. There might be an old photograph of Abby's father tucked away in the box, as well. Maybe even something that would give her a clue to his name.

  First, though, she would pack up Larissa's clothes in the boxes Hank had brought over for her the other day so they could be donated, along with Abby's things, to Promise's church-sponsored family ministry program.

  Abby had finished her breakfast and just gotten a start emptying out Larissa's dresser drawers when the doorbell rang. Grateful for any diversion from her heartachingly sad task, Abby glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was just past ten o'clock. She wasn't expecting anyone, but perhaps her grandparents had decided to stop by to give her a hand. She had insisted it wasn't necessary when they offered, but they had known how much she'd been dreading going through her mother's personal effects.

  It could be Jan Nelson, too. She might have someone interested in looking at the house. Though she had promised she would call first before bringing anyone over.

  Better yet, it could be Jack. Maybe he hadn't been needed at the clinic as long as he'd expected.

  Abby hurried to the front door, smiling in anticipation. She didn't even bother to look through the little peep hole to see who was outside before she reached for the knob.

  As she swung the door wide, however, and her gaze fell upon the two young women standing on the porch, her smile faded quickly. She was beyond surprised by their appearance. Shocked, actually, and more than a little confused. Looking at them was almost like looking in the mirror.

  Although their auburn hair was styled differently than her own, and each other's, they were the same height as she, they had the same blue eyes and the same facial features. They also looked to be the same age as she. And they were dressed in much the same colors she favored, as well as the same style of clothing she had tended to wear before her pregnancy.

  They could have easily passed for sisters, the three of them. More than that, they looked so much alike they could have been triplets—identical triplets. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

  Who were these women, and what were they doing here, looking at her with such surprise?

  Feeling dizzy enough to brace a hand on the door frame, Abby blinked several times in the vague hope that she was hallucinating. Though why that would have been a preferable alternative she couldn't say.

  "My goodness," murmured the one with chin-length curls, wearing a long, slim khaki skirt and green knit shirt.

  "My goodness, indeed," agreed the other, dressed in tailored, pale gray slacks and a sleeveless white cotton shirt, her longer hair waving softly around her shoulders.

  Abby echoed their comments silently, not quite able to find her voice yet.

  "No wonder your neighbor looked at us as if she were seeing a ghost," the first woman added, gesturing toward Constance Beckworth's house.

  Glancing past her visitors, Abby noted that Constance was now standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, staring blatantly at the scene unfolding before her.

  "Uh, maybe you'd better come inside," she said, her voice sounding oddly unfamiliar to her as she took a step back.

  The two women murmured their agreement and entered as Abby directed. Still feeling a bit unsteady, Abby offered them a seat on the sofa, then sat on the chair across from them. She should probably offer them something to drink, but it would be a few minutes before she would be able to get up again.

  "We should introduce ourselves," the woman with the shorter hair said. "I'm Sarah Daniels."

  "And I'm Jessica Walker," the other woman chimed in, then added tentatively, "We were told Larissa Summers used to live in this house."

  "Yes, she did. She was my mother. She died in December. I'm her daughter. Abby … Abby Summers," Abby replied.

  The two women exchanged a glance, then looked back at her, their expressions mirroring Abby's own inner turmoil.

  "Larissa Summers was our mother, too," Sarah offered quietly.

  "We only just met ourselves, Sarah and I," Jessica continued. "We … we thought we were twins who had somehow been separated at birth when our mother, Larissa, gave us up for adoption. But there were three of us, weren't there? Unless we're not the same age…"

  "I'll be twenty-seven on May thirtieth," Abby said.

  Sarah and Jessica exchanged another glance, then Jessica nodded her head.

  "That's my birthday, too. Sarah was never sure of the exact date, but she always celebrated her birthday at the end of May, as well. So we are triplets and we were separated at birth."

  "Now all we have to do is figure out the how and why," Sarah added with a wry smile. "Obviously, you didn't know about us until today, and we didn't know about you, either."

  "We came to Promise because we wanted to find out as much as we could about our birth mother," Jessica explained, picking up where Sarah left off. "We were told she was dead, but we thought maybe we could track down someone who could help us solve the mystery of how we happened to be separated. And here you are, Abby—our sister. And you not only grew up in Promise; you were also raised by our mother."

  "But I'm just as confused as you are," Abby admitted. "I never had any idea that I had sisters, much less that I was one of identical triplets."

  Another wave of dizziness had her sitting back in the chair. Instinctively, she put a protective hand on the gentle swell of her belly.

  "Are you all right?" Jessica asked, moving from the sofa to kneel beside her.

  Sarah, too, stood and crossed the room to stand beside her.

  "Maybe we should come back later," she suggested. "This whole situation has to be even more overwhelming for you than it has been for us, especially in your condition."

  "No, please stay. I'll be fine," Abby insisted, unwilling to be left alone with so many seemingly unanswerable questions.

  What on earth had happened to Larissa all those years ago? Because surely something had happened. Otherwise why would she have given up two of her three infant daughters?

  The decision couldn't have been an easy one for her to make. She must have believed she had no other choice. Larissa might not have been the most traditional of mothers, but she had loved Abby in her own way despite her constant restiveness and discontent.

  Brought on, no doubt, by the anguish and the hidden torment of what she had done…

  "Can I get you anything?" Jessica offered. "A cold drink, maybe?"

  "No, thanks." Abby tried to smile reassuringly, then gestured toward the kitchen. "You're welcome to help yourselves to something, though. I'd serve you myself, but I'm still feeling a bit unsteady."

  "And no wonder," Sarah said. "When is your baby due?"

  "The end of September," Abby answered as her sisters moved back to the sofa again. She hesitated a moment, then gave in to her growing curiosity. "Would you mind telling me a little bit about yourselves and how you found each other? My mother—our mother—never talked about the time when we were born, and she told me hardly anything about … about our father. All I really know is that she left Las Vegas with me when I was less than a month old and brought me home to her parents here in Promise.

  "But maybe your stories might jog some old, forgotten memory of mine. I could have overheard her telling someone something that didn't mean anything to me at the time, but might help us put together the puzzle pieces now."

  "Our father was Lawrence Walker," Jessica began after a nod from Sarah. "He was killed in a plane crash before we were born. Apparently, Larissa was his mistress. My adoptive mother, Deidre Walker, was Lawrence's wife.
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br />   "According to her, she somehow found out that Larissa was pregnant. She offered to adopt me and raise me in the Walker family with the support of our grandfather, Stuart Walker, at his home in Willow Springs, Nevada. When Sarah showed up in Willow Springs a few weeks ago, Deidre said she hadn't known a second baby had been born. Or, obviously, at third…"

  "I was abandoned at a hospital in Bellville, Nevada, a small town about halfway between Las Vegas and Willow Springs," Sarah continued with her story as Abby looked from one to the other, trying to take in all she was hearing. "Apparently, I had a severe respiratory infection and was very ill for several weeks. When I finally recovered, I was placed in foster care, then adopted by an older couple, Alice and Edward Daniels, after a search for my birth parents proved to be fruitless.

  "They died within a few months of each other while I was in college. I've been on my own, more or less, ever since then. At least, until a few weeks ago."

  When Sarah traded glances with Jessica again, they shared a knowing smile that piqued Abby's curiosity even more.

  "What?" she asked, wanting desperately to be included.

  They were her sisters—the sisters she had secretly, unknowingly, longed for almost as long as she could remember. To feel like an outsider now that they had finally found each other was doubly difficult.

  "You won't believe how Sarah and I found each other, Abby," Jessica said, turning to her with the same warm smile she'd just shared with Sarah. "We've proven that truth is stranger than fiction, haven't we?"

  "Oh, yes, we most certainly have," Sarah agreed. "So, tell me," Abby pleaded, scooting to the edge of her chair in barely contained anticipation.

  "Go on, Sarah. You first," Jessica instructed.

  "I was about to be married, literally. One minute, I was putting on my wedding dress, wondering whether I was really in love with my groom-to-be, and the next minute, a crazy man by the name of Ryan Noble barged into my life, insisting that I couldn't marry anyone but him.