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“What was that?” Gramps looked at her and set down his fork. “A baby?”
She nodded. Now was the part she was still reeling from. “Twins,” she whispered.
Gramps scooped his hat off his head and tossed it down on the table. “Twins?” He practically shouted the word, face wide open with a smile. “Ah, but are we talking two or three?” he asked with a slight frown.
“Two.” She chuckled, and then started to laugh at the expression on his face as he got up to hug her. “Two babies. Oh, my God. I’m going to have two babies.”
“What?” Her sister Billie stumbled into the kitchen, scrubbing at the sleep in her eyes. “What are you talking about babies for?” She looked from Bobbi back to their grandfather and slowly, her eyes widened. “You’re pregnant,” Billie said.
Bobbi nodded.
“You’re having two babies.”
Again, Bobbi nodded at her sister.
“Do you want some pie Billie?” Gramps asked, reaching for the pie plate he’d left on the counter.
Billie took one look at the pie and fisted her hand against her mouth. She shook her head and dashed from the room, while Bobbi looked after her, worried. “I hope I don’t get what she has. I have enough trouble keeping food down these days.”
Billie appeared, face flushed and damp from splashing water on it. “You’ve got it wrong. I think I already have what you have.”
Bobbi looked at her grandfather, but he shrugged and pulled his hat back on his head.
“I just figured out what’s wrong with me.” Her sister looked dazed and didn’t seem to care that there was vomit down the front of her shirt.
“What do you mean?” Bobbi was confused.
“I don’t have the flu.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” Billie started to cry. “Pretty sure I’m pregnant too.”
Bobbi felt her eyes well up, and before she knew it, she was crying right alo
ngside her sister.
Gramps got to his feet. “You two go on and have a good cry. I’m just gonna help myself to a little whiskey to celebrate new life coming into this home.”
Their grandfather left them alone and headed back to the porch, where an old man who’d just found out good news should be. He sipped his whiskey, and if it were another time and place, he’d have his beloved pipe shoved between his lips, but alas, the fire down his throat would have to do. He scooped out the fancy phone thing his granddaughter had given him and, after a slight hesitation, called up his special friend Mrs. Davis.
He was near to bursting to share his good news, and besides, she wasn’t no gossip that he knew. And even if she was, the cat was out of the bag.
At least that’s what he told himself just before Viola answered her phone.
Chapter Sixteen
Shane was up before the sun. He was tired and cranky on account of the fact he’d gotten maybe an hour’s worth of sleep—though he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself. He didn’t like that Bobbi had left, and he really didn’t like that he had no idea where she was or what she was doing, because she hadn’t volunteered the information.
Six months ago, he never would have imagined that he and Bobbi would be in this weird limbo where one wrong move might crumble the delicate walls they’d started to repair. And she’d been clear on some things, like the need for her own space. Her damn rules made it impossible for him to ask where she was without being an asshole, and he was determined to keep his head straight and his mouth shut, because when Shane let loose, Bobbi always pushed back, and that led to a whole mess of fireworks.
But it didn’t stop him from wondering or worrying.
He decided a run would help ease his tension and headed outside in time to enjoy a sunrise like no other. He ran for well over an hour and returned to the B and B sweaty and loose, with a mind that was clear. That monkey on his back was never far away, the one that was connected to love and loss and all those demons of his. But for the moment, they were quiet, and, showered up and clean, he headed down for breakfast, his stomach clenching at the smells coming from the kitchen. Miss Callie pointed to the feast she’d prepared and told him to help himself because she was leaving to visit an old friend. She’d smiled as she left, advising that she’d be back after lunch.
It was quiet—neither Coral nor the elderly gentleman who’d arrived the day before were up yet—and Shane had just poured himself a cup of coffee when Marybeth arrived with Mackie in tow. One look at her face told him something was seriously wrong. Usually immaculate in appearance, her clothes were rumpled, her complexion was pale, and her hair stuck out all over the place—definitely not brushed.
“Everything okay?” he asked lightly as he handed the woman a mug. Her eyes said no, though she attempted a halfhearted nod.
