Chapter 11
11
C allum startled awake, letting his eyes slide open but not moving. He'd fallen asleep on the couch, and his head lolled back against the cushion. Brandt was pillowed against him. Callum's leg stretched out on the ottoman Iris had shoved into place earlier.
The only source of light came from the flickering TV, which had been silenced, still on a cartoon. Cicadas hummed outside, but the sound was muted by the walls and windows.
Something was off.
Where was Levi?
His eyes flew open to see Iris curled around the boy, both of them on the second sofa.
Nightfall had come and gone; the clock on the wall read one a.m.
They'd spent an exhausting afternoon taking care of both boys. Callum had been relegated to the couch—his inability to clean or carry had rendered him all but useless.
Which had left Iris with the lion's share of cleaning up after two puking boys. At three years old, they couldn't be trusted to get to the bathroom when they needed to empty their stomachs, so he and Iris had resorted to using large bowls from the kitchen when the boys felt the need.
After they were reasonably sure everything had passed, Iris had dunked the twins in a bath and put a clean blanket over the couch. Now the boys were sweet-smelling and conked out.
She must be exhausted, like he was. On top of caring for the boys when they got sick, he could never totally erase the worry that something deeper was wrong.
But since they hadn't thrown up in the last several hours, Callum figured the illness had run its course. Relief flowed through him.
Until his focus narrowed in on Iris.
She wasn't sleeping. In the flickering light from the TV, he could see silver tears tracking down her cheeks.
And that slayed him.
He straightened up as much as he could without knocking Brandt onto the floor. "What's wrong?"
She startled, quickly wiping at her face with her hand. "Nothing."
But she wouldn't look at him, just gave him the side of her face.
Was she simply so tired she'd begun crying? Why hadn't she gone to bed? "I know it was a tough day. You were a trooper."
"Yeah. I'm just tired." Was there something more behind her words? With distance and sleeping boys between them, he couldn't tell.
She carefully disengaged herself from his son and sat up, moving to the edge of the couch. "I'm guessing they're going to be up bright and early and back at a hundred and fifty percent. I should go to bed."
Her shoulders remained slumped as if the weight she carried was too heavy to bear.
Emotion choked him. He didn't want this for her. Didn't want to be the cause of hurt in her life. "I'm sorry about all this. I wish you didn't have to deal with our messes."
She looked at him sharply, eyes snapping. There was definitely some anger behind her calm exterior.
Before she could respond, there was an audible thump from upstairs.
"Jilly." Iris gasped and lurched to her feet.
He tried to ease up off the couch, but Brandt weighted him down. "What's wrong?"
"Sometimes the chemo makes her sick," she said over her shoulder. "Or else she's got whatever the boys had."
He was left downstairs with two sleeping boys. Iris's footsteps faded on the stairs. How did she deal with all of this by herself? Where was her dad? He had enough time to harass Callum, but couldn't be here for his daughters?
The worst part was, Callum wanted to be the one helping her. Over the past few days, he'd discovered the woman she'd become. Compassionate, gentle, fierce.
He'd liked her bubbly personality in high school.
He liked the selfless woman even more.
Iris stood outside Jilly's bedroom door in the darkened hall holding her breath, holding her tears at bay by the thinnest of threads. She needed a moment to compose herself before she went in to check on her sister.
All around her, the aging house settled, creaking and groaning.
She couldn't seem to rein in her emotions. Was she crying because she was worried the twins had shared their germs with Jilly? Jilly's immune system was shot, thanks to the chemo. She could be deathly ill.
Or was she crying because seeing the father Callum had become touched her deep inside, touched her in a way she'd never expected?
With her head tucked into her chest, she could smell the scented bath soap that had been splashed on her while she'd scrubbed the twins clean.
She was too involved.
She could handle Callum's distance. But when he'd asked her what was wrong in that sleep-husky voice...she'd almost caved. The urge to go to him and curl up in his arms, to bask in his comfort, had nearly overwhelmed her.
They'd been a team today, caring for the boys. Working together to comfort them, Callum distracting them as Iris fetched and carried and cleaned up.
But the worst part was they were supposed to have been hers . All three of them. When she'd fanned her fingers through Brandt's hair and he'd snuggled into her lap, her heart had turned over in her chest.
As she'd gotten to know the boys, her heart had opened toward them. She saw pieces of Callum in each of them. Levi's reserved nature and intelligence, Brandt's outgoing joy and protective nature toward his brother.
They were everything she'd wanted when she'd been seventeen. Oh, she'd wanted her turn in New York City, dancing ballet. But deeper than that, she'd wanted family . Callum's family.
Her own father remained distant, her mother gone when she'd been thirteen. But spending all those summers with Uncle Joe had given her hope. Joe had been open with his emotions, quick to share a hug or say, "I love you." She'd wanted a husband with those same qualities. A loving relationship, someone to share the hurts and successes of life. Someone who would love her, warts and all.
She'd thought Callum was that man. He'd come from the worst of situations—father out of the picture, mother dead, raised in foster care. But he hadn't been ruined by his situation. He'd been reserved, almost shy when she'd met him working as a hand for Uncle Joe. Maybe shy wasn't the right word. He'd once said she was too good for him.
And then he'd left, no explanation. Just gone.
Callum's revelation that loneliness had driven him to other women's arms had only created more questions in Iris's mind—and those questions were dangerous. If she finally learned why he'd left, would she be able to forgive him?
Had she ever known him at all?
Noise from the bedroom meant it was time for Iris to get out of her own head and help her sister.