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  “So, Mrs.—” he said, flipping open a folder, “uh, Hayes? Sorry to keep you waiting. Who do you want to start with? Kendra or Katrina?”

  Travis! After all these years! Her heart continued to pound as she stared up at him, the noise eclipsing her attempts at reason. She finally gathered her wits and glanced down at her daughter. “I’m not m—” Emma bit her lip and wondered how much she had to reveal. Without another word, she handed him Katrina.

  Travis eased Katrina onto the exam table. The girl’s dark eyes watched him with a grave expression while he went through the check up. He turned to her. “So, your daughters must take after your husband?”

  Emma looked up into his soft brown eyes. A sudden longing for the shelter of his strong arms knifed through her. She gave herself a mental slap and sat up straight, hugging Kendra to her side. “No.”

  Travis gave her a curious look before scribbling in the chart. He handed Katrina back to Emma and picked up Kendra. The little girl went to him without resistance and allowed herself to be seated on the edge of the table. He went through a battery of checks. Emma saw him frown. After writing on the chart, he turned to her.

  “So, what’s the story with your girls, Emma? I see no previous records, and there are signs of...issues.”

  Emma reached into her diaper bag and rummaged around for several seconds. The medical records! She felt her face burn. How could she have forgotten the all-important paperwork?

  Pushing a wisp of hair from her eyes, she sighed. “I guess I was running late and forgot to grab their records. I know it was stupid, but I was in such a rush—”

  “It’s all right. Just get them to me when you can. Right now what can you tell me?”

  She rested her chin on Kendra’s head, fiercely protective of her girls and her choice to raise them in a bi-racial family as a single parent. Surely she could trust Travis to understand—unless he’d changed a whole lot since high school.

  “Kendra and Katrina were born in Haiti and placed in an orphanage. I adopted them and brought them home to live with me. Just me. No husband.”

  Travis nodded slowly. “Understood.” He lifted Kendra off the table and handed her back. “And you are aware of the inherent difficulties in such an undertaking? The disabilities and behavioral problems associated with neglected children? At least I’m assuming they came from such a place.”

  Sad memories rose to the fore as Emma remembered the poverty, the hopelessness, in the part of Haiti she visited. “Yes, it was horrible. But the orphanage was wonderful. A Godsend. And yes, I know this won’t be easy.”

  He sat down on his stool and leaned close until their knees touched. Emma sensed the warmth from his body. The tenderness in his gaze overwhelmed her and she rubbed her bare ring finger with her thumb.

  “This is so like you, Emma. Always the softie. I remember how you wanted to adopt every stray critter that crossed your path—and you would’ve if your parents had let you.”

  “This is different than stray animals, Travis!”

  “And the girls couldn’t have ended up with a better mother.”

  Emma flushed at the softness in his tone and lowered her gaze. In the short time she’d had the twins, she bonded with them so completely, she knew she’d die for them. Emma took a deep breath. “Tell me what I need to do to get them on the right track, at least physically.”

  “Well, I’ll know more once I see their records. But for now, let’s start off with some blood work, and then we’ll talk about immunizations and such. I’ll get some information for you geared to their needs and the names of specialists.”

  “Thank you, Tra—, I mean, Dr. Taylor.”

  He held out his hand. Emma hesitated before placing her hand in his. His warm, strong grip seemed like a lifeline.

  “It’s been good seeing you. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  Emma nodded and tugged her hand away. Travis gave a gentle shake of Kendra and Katrina’s hands, coaxing a smile from them. Then he pulled two lollipops out of his shirt pocket.

  “Is this all right with you, Momma? They’re sugar free, of course.”

  Momma. Would she ever hear her girls call her that? So far, they still cried for their father, who out of poverty had placed them with the orphanage. He’d died shortly thereafter.

  Emma nodded and watched as he unwrapped the lollipops before handing them to the girls.

  “Wendy will schedule a follow-up appointment in a few weeks so we can go over the blood work and chart a course for their care.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He held her gaze for the space of a heartbeat—his brown eyes seemed to search her soul. A hundred words tripped on her tongue, words of regret, apologies—

  With a faint smile, he turned and walked out the door. Emma closed her eyes, waiting for her world to right itself again.

  I never thought I’d see him again. Never in a million years.

  She realized he hadn’t seemed shocked to discover her in his exam room. Why should he? I was the one who did the leaving. He has nothing to be sorry for.

  A phlebotomist came in and led them to another room. Emma forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She thrust thoughts of Travis from her mind, as she’d done many times before. Her gaze went to her daughters. They’re who I need to concern myself with now.

  Emma’s heart wrenched at the girls’ feeble cries when blood was drawn from their stick-like arms. She did her best to comfort them, feeling inadequate to the task. It seemed the path to healing would bring so much pain.

  Did she have what it would take to see these little girls through childhood and beyond?

  2

  ...and through the wind pierced ever a child’s cry.

  —Lord Alfred Tennyson

  After the appointment, Emma pulled into the driveway of the large beach house built up on stilts along the sandy beach overlooking the Gulf. She needed to think about purchasing a car of some sort. The rental was getting expensive. The thought of one more task among many made the muscles bunch up in the back of her neck.

  Emma glanced at the backseat and saw the twins sound asleep in their car seats. She lowered her head and rested it on the steering wheel for a moment, allowing the cool, hard plastic to press against her skin.

  After a deep breath, she raised her head and clambered from the car. She eyed the stairs to the upper deck, wishing she had a one level house inland instead. The wet summer heat hung suspended in the air, causing beads of perspiration to form on her forehead.

  She turned and stared out at the flat, watery expanse of the water. The luxury beach houses lining the shore were interspersed with sparse rows of low palm trees and foliage to relieve the harsh lines. The area had an isolated feel to it, nearly soundless aside from the sibilant cycle of the waves. Broken shells and litter lay scattered along the gritty brown sand—remnants of the last storm.

  Out of the many cities, towns, and even countries she’d resided in, why had she ended up back in Texas? An image of Travis sprang unbidden into her mind. Emma gave a slight shake of her head. How could that be? She’d had no idea he’d still be in Galveston. In fact, she hadn’t thought about him in years.

  At least not in any real way. If she had, it had been like a yellowed photograph—a hazy image viewed with a touch of nostalgia and sadness. That was all.

  Bottom line, she’d needed a place to live and the beach house was available. Her parents had many rental properties around the country and having no permanent home of her own, she’d brought the girls here to begin their new life.

  So why Galveston?

  She hadn’t really thought it through before now, but it was the one place she’d lived the longest in her life. Maybe it had the feel of home.

  And it has Travis. Emma frowned. No, it can’t be the reason. I had no way of knowing he was still here. This rental property was one of the only ones available. My options were limited. She sighed, too tired for soul-searching at the moment. Besides, her heart had b
een too abused recently to give thought to a long-ago romance.

  Emma looked up at the house, inappropriately referred to as a “beach house”, which brought images of a snug little cottage to her mind. This place had three bedrooms, a professional chef’s kitchen, and home theater system. When it had become vacant in between the usual string of wealthy renters, Emma decided it was the providence of God. Until she found the right place to settle in and bring up the girls, the beach house would have to suffice.

  She smiled at her incongruent thoughts. The luxuries of the house would more than suffice, but she felt uncomfortable relaxing in a place that looked like the latest cover shot for Better Homes and Gardens. Of course, now that she’d moved in with a couple of kids, the interior had taken on a decidedly cluttered look. Fortunately, her parents wouldn’t see it any time soon—they were currently in India, one stop in a yearlong trip through Asia.

  Emma trudged up the steps, focusing on what she had accomplished—not on what she hadn’t. The adoption was nearly final and she had a place to live. Now it looked like she’d get the necessary medical care. Travis had mentioned specialists.

  After unlocking the front door, she went back to the car for Kendra. Easing the sleeping child from the car seat, Emma hurried her into the house before returning for Katrina.

  Once she had the girls settled for a nap in one of the guest rooms, she thought again about the shock of seeing Travis after all these years. The referral she received had only mentioned the clinic name and Dr. Taylor happened to be the physician who could see her the soonest. Somehow she’d imagined a white-haired man—certainly not her old boyfriend!

  That he actually became a doctor floored her even more in light of her parents’ disapproval of the young Travis. And yet as she thought about it, the role fit him. He’d always been caring, thoughtful, and personable.

  And now he’s my daughters’ doctor. She shook her head in disbelief and made sure the girls were settled peacefully in their bed. The phone ringing jarred her from her musings. Emma went to the kitchen and answered. Her shoulders slumped when she heard the voice on the other end.

  “Emma, I got your message that you’ve adopted some children? Is this possible? You’ve done some unsuitable things in your life, but this tops—”

  “Hi, Mom,” she said, stuffing down the familiar frustration at their disapproval. No preambles. Just accusations. She could never seem to do anything right in their eyes and she had no delusions they’d be keen on this endeavor either.

  “Yes, I have,” she said, “and—”

  “You know how busy your father and I are. You can’t expect us to rush home as if we were the natural grandparents!” Her mother groaned. “I had hoped you’d make better use of your trust fund—that’s why we made you wait until you were twenty-five”

  Emma held the phone away from her ear and counted off ten seconds. The rant about the wasted money on private schools and parental disappointments was a well-known tune she didn’t have the stomach to hear just now. She put the phone back to her ear.

  “—and I hear you’re using the Galveston property. I have to say the timing is bad as this is the busy season and—”

  “I’ll pay rent, of course,” Emma said, suppressing a sigh.

  “Well, I think that’s reasonable, and I will have to hold you responsible for any damage inflicted by the children. Oh, Emma, I can hardly understand your decision-making processes. And why did you break off your engagement? Why can’t you do things the right way?”

  “Please don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Mom. I’m thirty-one years old—”

  “Exactly! And what do you have to show for it? You’ve had access to the best education, travel, exposure to cultures, and yet you continue to do the inexplicable.”

  Emma closed her eyes, clamping down on her rising anger. “You’ll be paid for everything you’re entitled to, so don’t worry. I need to go now.” She gently replaced the receiver, cutting her mother off mid-sentence. Sorry, Mom, but I can only handle so much.

  Her head began to throb. No wonder. She closed her mind to her mother’s words and headed to the chintz-covered sofa in the living room. Emma shoved off a pile of clean laundry into a nearby basket and collapsed onto the soft cushions. Hearing the crunch of paper beneath her, she reached under her hip and pulled out a small stack of papers. The twins’ medical records. With a snort of disgust, she tossed them on the coffee table and flung her arm over her head to block out the afternoon light peeping through the shades.

  Her eyes fluttered closed when the absence of movement lulled her body into sleep mode—something she’d had too little of lately. As her breathing slowed, Emma thought once more of the handsome Travis Taylor, of the way he used to kiss her under the high Gulf moon—and of the shameful way she abandoned him fourteen years ago.

  ****

  A thin wail pierced Emma’s subconscious, dragging her up from the depths of a dream. She forced her eyes open, noting the lack of light coming through the windows.

  How long was I asleep? A bleary glance at her watch revealed the time to be nearly seven in the evening. Good grief, the girls must be starved by now! Another cry came from the direction of the bedrooms.

  Emma lurched off the couch and stumbled into the room the twins shared. Switching on a bedside lamp, she groaned at the sight of Kendra sitting up in bed, covered in vomit. Tears poured down the little girl’s cheeks as she blinked at the sudden light. Emma looked over at Katrina, who sat next to her, knuckling her eyes.

  Forcing down a feeling of panic, Emma gingerly lifted Kendra from the blankets and took her to the bathroom. Speaking to the little girl in comforting tones, she peeled off the soiled clothes and put her in the bathtub. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the heat emanating from Kendra’s skin. Her temperature had been normal at the doctor’s office. How could she suddenly have a fever?

  Once Emma had cleaned Kendra up, she wrapped her in a towel and took her to the master bedroom. From there, she rushed to the twin’s bedroom to change the sheets. As she entered, Katrina began to vomit as well. Emma clutched the door frame. I don’t know if I can handle this!

  Trying not to breathe through her nose, Emma scooped Katrina into her arms and cleaned her up in the bathroom, noting the little girl seemed feverish too. Once Katrina was bathed and wrapped in a towel, she took her to where Kendra waited. A familiar, pungent smell assaulted her nostrils. Finding Kendra had thrown up again made Emma close her eyes in despair. She set Katrina on the edge of the bed and tried to calm her rising anxiety.

  How serious is this? Should I take them to the E.R? What if they have food poisoning? What did we eat today? What if it’s one of those horrible tropical fevers, or something worse? I don't know what to do!

  Emma bit her lip as the last thought occurred to her. Okay, get a grip! The twins are a gift from God and He wouldn’t have given them to you without supplying all your needs as well. You can deal with this. Closing her eyes, she released a long breath. Now, what next?

  She opened her eyes. Travis. He’d know what to do. “It’s okay, girls. Momma’s going to call the doctor.”

  After dialing Information, she called the office number, breathing easier when she was connected to the answering service. “Yes, my daughters are patients of Dr. Taylor. They’re very ill. I need to speak to him right away.”

  “If this is an emergency, hang up and dial nine-one-one,” said an impassive voice at the other end of the line.

  Emma frowned, wishing she felt more confident. “I don’t think it is. Can I please just talk to the doctor?”

  “Dr. Taylor is not on call tonight. Dr. Roberts is taking calls. What is the nature of the problem?”

  Her fingers tightened on the receiver. “What! I don’t know any Dr. Roberts! I need Dr. Taylor!”

  “I’m sorry. He’s not available this weekend.”

  Watching helplessly as Katrina began another round of vomiting onto the bedspread, she groaned. “Okay, get me Dr. Who
mever!” After giving her call-back information, Emma dropped the phone down back into its cradle and reached for her girls.

  ****

  Travis regarded his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned up the front of his new shirt. He couldn’t decide if he was paying such close attention to his clothes to impress Lucy or armor himself against her. He grimly suspected it was the latter. He hoped seeing her pretty face would alleviate this annoying ambivalence gnawing at him in the last few weeks.

  The phone rang. Travis checked his watch, wondering if Lucy might be canceling their date. He scowled when he experienced a twinge of relief at the thought. He snatched up the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Travis, this is Gary.”

  A grin replaced his frown when he heard his friend’s voice. “You’re a little early, Gary. I don’t have any details for you yet on my date with Lucy.”

  Gary chuckled. “No, I’m not calling about that. But do take notes. My wife has every intention of pumping me for any information you have to give.”

  “Tell Dottie not to get her hopes up.” Travis held the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tucked in the shirt.

  “That’s what I keep telling her. But seriously, I thought you might be interested in a call I got from the answering service just a few minutes ago. Some woman claiming to be your patient called demanding for you.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Emma Hayes.”

  Travis’s hands stilled. “What did she say?”

  “She said her daughters are running sudden high fevers and have been vomiting. She sounded frantic. I tried to calm her down and tell her it was probably a touch of a virus, but she seemed to think that it might be something more serious. I told her if she was that worried she should get them to the E.R.”

  “Thanks, Gary. I’ll take it from here.” Travis hung up and dialed Lucy’s number. While he waited for her to answer, he grabbed the backpack of basic medical equipment he kept at home. When he heard the sound of her voice, he took a deep breath.