Poppy's Passions Page 6
Really they needed to talk without her listening and didn’t have much time. Their parents would be over soon and particulars they’d delayed discussing while Poppy was ill still needed to be hammered out. The older generation of Parabys was less than subtle about their desire for grandbabies in the house. When they’d headed back to San Antonio their parents asked all kinds of questions. They’d gotten away easy by sharing bare details, but they needed to have some real answers when their mother poked her head in.
“Listen up, boys. Poppy would rather not say anything about the babies yet,” Michael announced.
He spent a lot of time with her after the shooting, especially after learning she was pregnant. He wasn’t necessarily proud of himself, but he’d prodded a little when she’d been weak and tired. In the first few hours after she woke, he’d gotten the full scoop on why she was hesitant to make announcements. The reasons weren’t happy ones, and they were important to her so they were important to him.
“Why?” Cody demanded.
“Yeah, that sucks. Mom’s going to be pissed about the arm and crazy Japanese racer. I need granddaughters, one for the arm and one for the asshole with the gun,” Trevor added, straightening the sheets they’d changed before they left for San Antonio. At the time, bringing her back had been a wish, a fond desire. Now that she was actually in their space, it had to be perfect.
“From what I understand, she miscarried six months ago and shouldn’t have gotten pregnant again so soon. She should be fine, but there’s always a chance she could miscarry again. The odds aren’t high, but she isn’t comfortable telling people yet.” He held up his hand when they started raining questions on him. “She didn’t give me many details, but there’s a broken engagement in there along with a dash of ‘her daddy’s an asshole.’”
“Damn it,” Cody said. “I knew something was wrong. It’s like she wants to be excited about being pregnant, but she doesn’t like talking about it either.”
“Fuck,” Trevor groaned. “I should have noticed that. Hell, do you think Mom knows I’m too old for a spanking?”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be too old, Trevor Paul,” Mary Paraby declared from the door. “Where is she? You boys blockaded around her so I couldn’t even get a look. Her name is Penny?”
“Poppy,” Michael corrected, and hugged their mother. “She’s been ill and wanted a bath before she met anyone.”
“Yeah, Mom, Trevor got our woman shot,” Cody said, kissing her powder-smooth cheek. “And broke his arm.”
“Fucking tattletale,” Trevor snarled, cuffing his brother’s shoulder, hard.
“Trevor,” Mary snapped, and lifted her cheek for a kiss. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. The doctor said I’ll heal with no problems. And Poppy’s okay too. The bullet creased her arm a little. The thing making her sick is the bug she caught at the hospital. I had nothing to do with that. In fact we all agreed it was probably Cody who made her sick. He’s been known to do that to perfectly nice women.”
“Well, that sounds like a story for one of the long winter nights ahead,” Mary said. “I’ve got soup and bread bowls in our kitchen if you boys don’t feel like cooking.”
“We’ll do dishes,” Michael promised. He was willing to pay the usual price for the meals they mooched if it meant buying them a little more time with Poppy and guaranteeing they would all be with her when she met their family the first time.
“Are there any chocolate chip cookies?” Cody asked, and was frowned at by their mother. “What? I’m not begging for cookies, Mom. Poppy just likes chocolate and after the past few days… Hell, I’ll make her some tonight.”
“Quit cussing,” Mary advised, and patted his cheek. “I’ll take some out of Paul’s stash in the freezer for your Poppy. Oh, and make sure she knows she can change her room however she wants. A girl needs her own space, remember that boys. Supper’s ready whenever she is.”
Michael closed the door and locked it. Their mother could still enter through any of their rooms, which connected with Poppy’s, but he knew she wouldn’t. Privacy mattered, at least it had since the last raid for dirty magazines and beer before Cody’s eighteenth birthday. It was why the house was so big and the doors locked. All the doors, even, maybe especially, in the laundry rooms.
“Think Poppy needs help?” Michael asked, and his brothers’ grins matched his as they headed for the bathroom.
Poppy opened the door before they could and stepped out, already dressed in jeans, a turtleneck, and one of Trevor’s plain, black sweatshirts. “It’s like three cats stalking a canary.”
“Pretty bird,” Trevor said with a big grin, fingers at the hem of the plundered shirt. “I know you like this because it’s baggy, but I gotta’ say I love seeing you in my clothes.”
“Yeah, well, I was cold too.” She crossed her arms defensively over her belly. Michael looked to Cody and they backed away before defensive went further. “And too hungry to be in the mood for any of those grins, so just put them away for now.”
“Hell, sweetheart, we’ll feed you first,” Cody promised. “Is there anything special you want? Mom has chicken soup over in her kitchen and invited us for dinner, or we could make something. Michael re-stocked on groceries before we left. They’ll understand if you need some time to settle.”
* * * *
“Supper with your parents is fine.” It was the only answer she could think of and after she said it she knew it was the right one. If she waited she’d be more nervous when the time to meet them finally came.
Truth be told, she was very curious to see what kind of people stayed in a plural marriage for decades and raised such incredible children. Steven’s parents were long dead when they began dating so she’d never dealt with meeting a boy’s or man’s parents. Before she could get more nervous she let Cody walk her out, Michael ahead, Trevor behind, sneaking touches as often as possible and defusing the seriousness she might have placed on the meeting.
The house was a beautiful wonder. With ceilings high in the middle giving way to an open second floor Cody explained held offices, playrooms, and guestrooms, everything seemed open. There was also a basement that housed a bar, gym, and a third kitchen for Mary’s canning they would show her later.
The next area was a big, beautiful commons full of heavy leather furniture and a massive stone fireplace that reached the ceiling. Flanking it were windows letting in a constant flow of nature with no curtains or blinds to interfere. Next was a formal dining room, two dozen chairs around the table, and extra ones around buffets. More closets and two bathrooms later, the floor plan duplicated to what she’d already seen, but the wood was warmer with framed pictures of wildlife and family decorating the space.
Michael stopped at the closed door, the kitchen she assumed from the smells, and turned to face her with open arms. She laid her head on his chest, Cody still at her side, Trevor cuddling from behind.
It was the warmest, sweetest hug she’d ever experienced, soothing and comforting. They knew they were not only asking a hell of a lot from her, but also asking her to adjust to the relationship in front of their parents. On any given day that was a big request, but with the pregnancy, she was also full of hormones that made her oversensitive. The situation required more courage and openness than she thought she had to give, but she’d witnessed their willingness to help and was confident she didn’t have to do it alone. Their faith in her made her want to try to reach the potential they saw.
“They won’t expect us to stay long tonight, not after the flight and everything,” Michael assured her, kissing her brow. “We’ll eat, catch up a little, and then go relax before bed. Trevor’s an ass, but I’ve heard he gives good massages.”
“I’ll massage that for you too.” He rubbed her bottom with both of his big hands as he made the promise. “You have an excellent ass, babe. It fills my hands, nice and firm but with the softest flesh. It makes me want to do all sorts of naughty things you’re going to love.”
“Okay.” The promise of Trevor’s hands skin on skin made her want to forgo dinner, but she shook them off and ran her fingers through her hair to straighten the mess Cody’s hands had made. “No more mauling. I’d like to meet your parents while I can still manage a coherent thought.”
Michael chuckled and fixed a stray curl, kissing her mouth, Cody and Trevor following suit.
“Boys, quit dragging your feet, supper’s ready,” a woman from beyond the door called, assuring them the kitchen occupants knew they were there and probably knew what they were doing.
Cody took his place at her side, and they entered the kitchen. She recognized the moral support in the way he held tight to her hand and she squeezed him back.
The kitchen was large, bright, very warm in temperature, and welcoming. A huge island with a dozen stools around it waited with settings ready for the family to take their places. Obviously new, the appliances were shiny, with a huge double oven and stainless steel refrigerator surrounded by beautiful, dark gray granite countertops. The sinks were deep with fussy handles and faucets like the ones Poppy had lusted after during her housing search. The scents of garlic, chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread weighed heavily in the air, completing the room.
It should have been a perfect scene. Grandma’s kitchen or something like that, but her skin was crawling in discomfort. The heat made her sweat and the smells turned her stomach, reminding her of six months earlier. She’d baked bread that day to keep her mind off the baby she’d lost and stay occupied until she spoke with Steven. He’d offered, very reasonably over tea and bread, to marry her when a healthy baby was born. She’d refused the offer and he’d finished eating before leaving, returning to his ex-wife with a full stomach. After Steven left, her father berated her for hours, but in the end took the bread he’d asked her to wrap up for him.
“Poppy?” She jerked at the sound of Cody’s question. The concerned looks the men and their family gave her told her he’d probably asked more than once. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Sorry, tired I guess.” She plastered on a smile to banish the crappy memories she didn’t want popping up now or ever. “Something smells wonderful.”
“Poppy, this is our mom, Mary,” Michael said, pulling a high stool out for her. “And our dads, Paul, Thomas, and Duane. This is Poppy Maguire.”
The resemblance was startling. Mary was about five and a half feet tall, taller than Poppy, and very thin, sickly thin, with perfectly styled hair that attested to the cancer recovery Michael told her about. She had dimples like the boys, and Trevor’s dark hair came from her as well. Her smile was genuine, welcoming, and made Poppy hope she wasn’t a disappointment to the older woman.
The next three, the fathers, were much like their sons. Paul and Thomas were twins, both with wavy blond hair and nice blue eyes. There were plenty of lines and wrinkles but she couldn’t deny that they were fit, handsome, older men.
For the most part the boys resembled the twins. Duane, the doctor, looked older and had more height than any of the others, boys included, with a sparse ring of white hair on his head. He was very thin, almost gaunt, which reminded her of Trevor, but his hand was steady, firm and warm in hers as introductions were made. She offered to help and tried to hide her relief when she was waved to a stool.
Polite conversation wasn’t hard. As a nurse she had to talk to people, so she knew how to listen and add situational appropriate dialog. Without Cody, Michael, and Trevor, sitting in the kitchen would be torture, but with them beside her, they dulled the instant reaction her body wanted to run from.
The soup was good, the bread warm and chewy, company charming, but she hadn’t lied about being tired. She tried to stay polite and interested because she was, but she needed her pain medication. She jerked when Cody’s arm settled over her shoulders, startling her from her thoughts and jarring her bandage.
“She’s dead on her feet.” The concern in Mary’s tone made her force a smile. She didn’t want to be pitiful on her first night at the ranch, but it looked unavoidable. “Poor thing. I don’t care for traveling, either. We always add a few days to any trip so we can catch up on sleep. You go lie down, sweetie, we’ve got lots of time to get to know one another.”
“It’s been a long few days,” Michael said, a picture of efficiency as he quickly helped clear the island with Trevor. “Poppy, Cody will take you to your room so you can relax.”
“No, I’ll help clean up.” Manners demanded that she make the offer. She could at least clear her place. She stood, maybe too fast.
“Oh, Cody. Catch her!”
Chapter 8
“I’ve got her,” Cody said calmly, cradling the unconscious Poppy in his arms. “I’ll go lay her down.”
“Dad—”
“I’m right behind you, son.” Duane was running for his bag before Trevor finished asking.
Cody knew Michael and Trevor wanted to follow, but their mother kept them in the kitchen and out of Duane’s way. Their remaining parents would try to keep them busy, but they’d be over soon. Their woman passed out, they couldn’t help, and no amount of small talk would distract either of them, though their mother would try.
“How many weeks?” Duane asked and pulled out the stethoscope from the heavy-duty toolbox he used for medical emergencies.
“Weeks what?” Cody kept his tone carefully blank, mindful of her request as he watched helplessly.
“Son, I’ve been a doctor for thirty years, most of those years in a small town. I recognize a pregnant woman when I see one,” Duane replied, deftly checking her breathing and pulse.
“Okay, twenty-one weeks I think. I didn’t really understand the math when she tried to explain it, but she said she’d be twenty-two on Tuesday. I thought it would be more like sixteen.” He knew he shouldn’t have tried to fool his father. It hadn’t worked when he scratched his car at seventeen either. “She caught a bad stomach bug in the hospital and she has two stitches where the bullet grazed her right shoulder, but her doctor said the wound looked good. She’s on antibiotics, some light painkillers and nausea medication as needed. It’s been needed a lot the last few days.”
“Yeah, it’s probably just the baby and recovering after being sick. We count the time from the last period to determine gestation in weeks, son, that’s why it’s different.” Cody had never been more grateful for his father as he continued to explain and examine Poppy. “It’s the same way with cows, though I’m sure your mother wouldn’t appreciate the comparison so let’s leave that between us. Everything sounds good. Ah, she’s coming around. Poppy, are you with us, sweetheart?”
* * * *
“Gonna puke,” she announced before opening her eyes.
Cody grabbed one of the bowls she’d seen Michael strategically place in both nightstands before they left for dinner. Duane returned after the foul fireworks with water, her pills, and the most wonderfully cool washcloth she’d ever felt.
“Cody, go help your brothers in the kitchen,” Duane said as he efficiently pumped a blood pressure cuff, something she’d done hundreds of times to other people but hated having done to her.
He looked to her with indecision and she gave him a weak smile and nodded.
“Dad, can you show her the intercom when you’re done?”
“Sure, son, now move it.” After the door shut, Cody behind it, Duane turned his attention back to her. “Well, first things first, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Second thing, is this one of my boys’ or a previous relationship?” Duane asked, not judging like she would expect a father to do, just curious.
“There are twin girls courtesy of a Paraby.” Too exhausted to worry about what he would think of her she lay back and waited for his response.
To her surprise, the grin he wore could have lit the country and for a moment he lost his doctor’s demeanor and hugged her tight. “I tried for years to talk Mary into one more baby,” he explained. “I always wanted a little gir
l, but she was sure we were all throwing boy swimmers and six Paraby men were enough for her. Baby girl, you just punched your ticket in this family. You could cut off all of our right arms and still be golden.”
Poppy laughed, but she knew she had to tell him everything before he started building doll houses. “I had a miscarriage six months ago. It was my first pregnancy, and it was spontaneous at almost eleven weeks. My doctor says I’m healthy and progressing well, but it’s still on my mind.”
Duane nodded, quickly setting aside his grandfatherly enthusiasm in favor of being the doctor. “Of course it is. If it happens once, it feels like it could happen again, especially if you were fine one day and aborting the next. I’m sorry for your loss and wish I could do more to reassure you. I can say since you’ve made it to this point you’ve passed the more risky months.”
She nodded, but even though she’d heard the words and read them in every pregnancy book she had, the doubts remained. Until she was holding the babies in her arms she didn’t think she’d believe it would happen.
“Being pregnant with twins, you need to see someone every two weeks. It’ll be good for keeping progress monitored and good for you. Hopefully, the reassurances will help ease some of the fear. I’d be happy to take care of you, or there are half a dozen other doctors that I would recommend in Morris.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
He deftly felt her stomach through the sheet and her clothes in a gentle, practical manner even her well researched OB back home didn’t have.
“Of course not. You’re my boys’ woman. I want you healthy and happy,” Duane said, and covered her with another blanket. “On that same strain, I’m sure your doctor told you that you’ll need to be careful with sex. Use common sense and if anything hurts or you bleed, let me or whoever your doctor is know immediately. Only do what you are comfortable with, and if you do start having signs of early labor it’ll be cut altogether. I’m sure the boys won’t be my biggest fans, but that’s the way it’s got to be for healthy babies. Want me to check the arm? You’re an ER nurse, probably a damn fine one even if you don’t love it, so I’ll trust your judgment.”