Bonus Story Bean There, Birthed That #5
I grinned, happier than I’d ever thought possible. Brothers who always had my back. A dire wolf best friend. A son with my hair. A tranquil daughter. A wife who could put me in my place even after pushing out twins.
This was my family. My ‘ohana to love, mine to protect, mine to tease mercilessly for the rest of our lives.
I cradled Seri against me, marveling at the strength in her.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her ear, low enough that maybe my brothers wouldn’t hear the crack in my voice. “For everything.”
“Oh, Zoodle. I love you so much.”
Well, that did it.
Ugly sobs racked my body as I charted the boy’s stardust freckles and the girl’s obsidian eyes, my heart now and forever orbiting theirs.
#
Koa
Of course.
Of course our beloved would give us not one, but two miracles. That was our Serafina. Constantly surprising us, constantly showing us new depths of love we never knew existed.
I watched as our son squirmed and sucked like a starving piglet, his tiny hands kneading Seri’s breast with surprising strength.
Definitely Zane’s genes at work, I thought with amusement. Never patient, always hungry for more.
His little face was screwed up with determination, an iron will and burning fire churning together in a tiny body that seemed too small to contain such force. This one wouldn’t be ignored; he wouldn’t be contained.
Meanwhile, our daughter latched on almost gently, blinking up at me with onyx eyes too calm for a newborn. Our boy had come roaring into the world like a volcano erupting, all fire and fury, but this quiet warrior…
Her soul was deep, ancient, steady as stone.
Not brand new as I’d expected, but old, like mountains.
As if she’d been waiting a long time to arrive, patient in the cosmos until the exact moment was right.
Even now, there was a sense of quiet purpose, of intentional movement.
Her tiny fingers resting against Seri’s skin weren’t demanding; they were connecting, anchoring, making herself known through gentle touch rather than insistent need.
“They’re so different already,” Seri murmured as Zane sobbed. “Like night and day.”
“Balance,” I corrected. “Harmony.”
Cas lifted our finally quiet son from Seri’s breast, and I did the same with our sleeping daughter.
She fit just right in the center of my chest, hardly a weight at all, and yet the heaviest responsibility I’d ever carried.
I hummed softly, an old lullaby my mother learned from her mother, passed down like breath between generations.
I was only six when I last heard Mom’s voice, but now I swear I felt her.
Standing behind me. Watching over us. Not as a ghost, but as a presence.
Warm, loving, approving. Not memory, but reality.
One of the ?aumākua, walking behind us, beside us.
I could feel her joy, her pride, her blessing flowing through the room like gentle waves lapping at the shore.
“Aloha, keiki,” I breathed into our daughter’s hair as she curled in the cradle of my palm like she’d always been there.
#
Seri
My husbands were fussing. No surprise there. They’d been fussing over me from the moment I arrived at Evermere, half-starved and terrified. But now, at least some of that anxious energy was diluted and redirected toward our children.
Our children.
The words echoed in my mind like a beautiful song I couldn’t stop replaying. Two tiny, perfect souls that hadn’t existed in the world until a few hours ago, yet already held all our hearts in their teeny hands.
Even in my exhausted state, I smiled as I remembered the absolute panic that had flashed across Casimir’s face when he’d realized a second baby was coming.
I’d have to get the full story from Koa later.
I’d been a little too busy pushing and trying not to scream to pay much attention to anything beyond the steady, calming voices of my husbands guiding me through.
Now, I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Casimir and Koa cuddled them with gentle hands and soft murmurs while Zane’s chest shuddered with sobs against my back, his tears soaking my already damp hair.
I shifted slightly and winced. Despite the healing potion, which had saved me from eight stitches according to Casimir, my muscles ached in places I hadn’t known could ache, I was sweaty and exhausted, and the tile floor wasn’t helping any of that.
“What are their names, my love?” Casimir asked.
The three of them had trusted me to choose something meaningful and strong for our child, and I was so glad I’d prepared options for each gender. Our little boy had been the best kind of surprise, and I couldn’t wait to call Papa and Kaori, Doria and Caelyr, Sebastian and Foster and Mrs. Wentzel…
Other things had priority at the moment, however.
“I have conditions for revealing that top secret intel.”
“Special requests, hmm, starlight?” Zane teased with a sniff, wiping his nose on my shoulder.
“Demands, snot monster, not requests.” I tilted my chin up. “One of you will help me take a shower. One of you will bring me popcorn and hot chocolate. Oh, and Brummy. The third one of you will clean my children and swaddle them.”
“Are you blackmailing us?” Koa asked with an indulgent chuckle. “Names in exchange for meeting your demands?”
“Is it working?”
“Absolutely.” He smiled that smile that always made my heart skip. “But I would have given you anything, anyway, beloved.”
I knew that. It was one of the countless reasons I loved them all so fiercely. They’d never once made me feel anything less than cherished, from the moment I’d stumbled into their lives.
“You need to rest—”
“After my shower,” I interrupted Casimir. “And popcorn. And hot chocolate. And Brummy.”
“But not your bestie?” Zane teased, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Foster can meet them later. Right now, just us,” I said, still staring down Casimir, who finally let out a little sigh of resignation.
“A quick shower. And Zane helps.”
I would have preferred him or Koa to help.
Zane’s hands had a notorious mind of their own, which was usually very pleasurable, but definitely not something I wanted now.
Thankfully, he for once was serious and handled me with reverence and care.
He didn’t hurry, but his touches were practical rather than suggestive and, in that moment, I fell in love with him all over again.
“Thank you, Zoodle.”
“For what?”
“For being exactly what I need right now.”
“Always, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “And no thanks needed. You just did a miracle twice over. The least I can do is help you get clean.”
#
Casimir
I stood in the bathroom, my newborn twins cradled against my bare chest, feeling simultaneously like the most powerful and most vulnerable man in existence.
Their tiny bodies weighed almost nothing, yet the responsibility they represented was as heavy as mountains.
How had my heart already expanded so rapidly to encompass these two perfect beings?
Steam clung to the mirrors from the warm water I’d prepared. I’d never felt less in control of a situation, even as I methodically worked through the steps I’d researched over the past months.
“Water temperature: 100.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Optimal for newborn skin sensitivity.” I dipped my elbow into the shallow basin I’d filled. Years of training had taught me to verbalize processes during stressful situations, and this qualified as the most stressful situation of my entire existence.
My hands were too large, too rough, for this delicate work. One wrong move, one miscalculation in the pressure of my fingers, and I could hurt them.
Completely unacceptable.
Settling my son on the nest of towels I’d created next to me on the wide vanity, I lowered our daughter into the water first. Her eyes, still unfocused, drifted as I supported her head with one hand, using the other to gently rinse her skin.
Unlike her brother, she remained calm, only occasionally flexing her tiny fingers as if testing her newfound independence from the womb.
“That’s it,” I whispered, surprised by the softness in my voice. “You’re doing extremely well.”
After diapering and wrapping her in a fresh towel, I turned to her brother. His face was scrunched, red, and clearly displeased with the world he’d recently entered. As I lowered him into the water, he let out a wail that could have raised the cockatrice I’d killed last week.
I worked quickly while taking care to clean every delicate fold of skin, trying to minimize his distress, yet he continued his vocal protest.
“I understand your complaint,” I said over his ire, “but this is a necessary hygiene protocol.”
He did not find this reasoning compelling and responded by crying louder, his tiny fists clenched in outrage, as I lifted him from the water.
After drying and diapering him, I wrapped him in the same towel as his sister, thinking he might find comfort next to his womb-mate, but he continued to wail. Frustrated by my lack of ability to calm him, I reached for the swaddles, hoping that would soothe him.
“This is a premium cotton-bamboo blend,” I explained. “Breathable yet insulating, with optimal stretch factors for secure swaddling without restricting circulation.”
He screamed louder, clearly unimpressed by my fabric selection process.
Our daughter, meanwhile, accepted her swaddle with the serene dignity of a queen receiving her robes. Her eyes drifted closed, her tiny rosebud mouth slightly open.
“At least one of you appreciates quality,” I muttered, securing the final fold.
Turning their towel nest to face the wall, I stripped out of my stained boxers and quickly cleaned myself up, then all but jumped into fresh boxers before picking them up again. The contact sent a wave of protectiveness through me so fierce, it almost hurt.
I would tear apart any threat to these two with my bare hands. I would rewrite the laws of nature itself if it meant keeping them safe. I would go to war for them.