Chapter 1 #3
Pamela was harried and spoke fast, obviously with no time for anything but the facts. “No, I haven’t spoken to the father at all. I believe the police are looking for him because his children will get separated very soon if I can’t find foster care for them.”
“Foster care isn’t needed,” Anderson snapped. “They’re my nieces, and I can take care of them.”
A moment of silence came before she tentatively spoke again. “Does that mean you’ll take all of them?” Such hope filled her tone.
He declared, his tone brisk, “Yes, of course. They are my family.”
“Oh good,” she replied, with an audible sigh. Then she asked, “Do you have any experience with children?”
He lied. “Of course I do. Will you deliver them back here again, or do I need to come get them?”
She hesitated at the question, then asked one of her own. “Do you have car seats?”
“No, not yet. I just arrived in town, and I’m at my sister’s house.”
“I thought it was a crime scene.”
Anderson frowned. “No tape is up, and nobody stopped me from coming in. The doctor at the hospital didn’t mention a crime,” he explained in exasperation. “So, back to the babies. I need to know what you’ll do.”
“I’ll bring them to you,” she shared. “I’ll verify that you can look after them first, before I leave them in your care.” And that was the end of her call.
Anderson got the distinct impression that she would confirm he was capable of handling whatever was coming next.
He realized he might be in over his head, but no way in hell he would let Talia’s children be carted off to foster care the way he and Talia had been, not when someone was available to help.
Those triplets were his own flesh and blood, and his sister was comatose in the hospital.
It was up to him to take care of them while Talia healed.
He looked around the living room that he had just tossed and began to put it to rights again before Pamela arrived. He sighed, then called out to Talia, even if just in form, “You sure as hell better wake up soon, girl, because I need to know what the hell happened here.”
One of the first things he needed to do was find Tim.
Had Tim gotten into trouble? Had Talia and Tim been fighting?
Was Tim even alive? Maybe he was attacked when Talia was?
Anderson frowned, then shook his head. If Tim had been attacked, it probably wasn’t here.
That sorry excuse for a human didn’t live here anymore.
All those questions and more spun a web in his mind, including the worst-case scenario, that Tim might have put Talia in the hospital himself. If that were the case, Tim would find no place on earth where he could hide from Anderson. He would never let anyone get away with that.
Another question reared its ugly head. Gunner will kill Tim if he attacked Talia.
Gunner’s likely response echoed in Anderson’s mind, equally vehement.
If Tim did that to Talia, he will never hide from my wrath.
Anderson sighed. He had to update Gunner eventually or the guy would nag Anderson to death.
Anderson had no time for that shit, what with the arrival of his nieces soon and with Anderson doing his own goddamn investigation into Talia’s attack and her missing worthless husband.
Anderson put on a pot of coffee, waited to get his first cup, then took it with him as he dumped his duffel bag in the spare bedroom upstairs.
He looked around the second floor of the house, now with the knowledge that Talia had probably been dragged from bed and taken downstairs to the tarp—or lured downstairs—and then beaten there.
He was now searching every drawer in these upstairs bedrooms and the bathroom, plus every pocket in every garment she owned.
Having no idea how much time had passed, he heard a vehicle out front.
He ran downstairs and out the front door to see someone he assumed was Pamela, the social worker, with the triplets. As he walked to her, she had one baby carrier with its baby on the sidewalk and was struggling to get the next one out of the car. He raced to her side. “Let me give you a hand.”
She stepped back and watched as he quickly unbuckled the carrier and brought it along with child number two onto the sidewalk, now alongside the first one. Ducking back inside the car, he had the third baby’s seat unbuckled and out in no time.
He smiled down at them. “Good God, they’ve grown,” he muttered, staring at them in astonishment.
“Yeah, that’s what kids do. We spoke on the phone earlier. I am Pamela Walker.”
He turned to her as she assessed him with that look. He nodded, reaching out to shake her hand. “Anderson Travolta. I get that you’re wondering if it’s safe to leave them with me, but let me tell you this,” he began. “These children are my family, and no way in hell you’re taking them away.”
She sniffed and tucked back strands of her loose hair. “I commend your enthusiasm, but, if you’re not a fit substitute, it doesn’t matter what you say,” she replied coldly.
“Oh, I get it, but these babies are my family.” He faced them again, shook his head, and muttered, “And, man, do they ever look the same.”
She cracked a smile. “Yes, they are identical.”
“Yeah, but there were a couple differences before,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if there still are though,” he conceded doubtfully, as he stared from what appeared to be one identical face after another.
She smiled. “They probably have grown out of some of the differences,” she noted, “but, for the most part, they are identifiable.”
“If you say so.” He quickly picked up two of the carriers and then asked, “And how do we manage the third one?”
“The same as people have been doing since forever,” she quipped with a chuckle, as she grabbed the third one. “You have somebody to help, right?” she asked him.
He glanced at her, modulating his tone because the last thing he wanted was a hassle in dealing with social services.
“Help is coming.” Absolutely no way would she take these babies from him, not if she thought he would be a decent parent in the interim, not until his sister came home and could care for them herself.
And the last thing he needed in this situation was to get into any argument about it.
When he got the babies inside, he carried them over to a large playpen in the living room and plunked the carriers onto the floor. Within seconds, he had the first two out and on the hopefully clean rug on the floor.
While he was unbuckling the third, Pamela said, “At least you know your way around buckles.”
He nodded. “That I do.” In truth, other kids, much younger ones, had been at the foster care centers where he had spent some time, but he had done everything in his ability to avoid dealing with them. He didn’t want to get attached to anybody, not when everyone he had loved had been taken away.
As soon as he had the third baby on the floor, the triplets took off, hitching across the floor on their butts, pulling forward with their arms, and babbling happily at each other.
Wow, they were strong little people, but wouldn’t crawling be easier, faster?
With a shake of his head, Anderson realized that this would be a little harder than he thought.
He caught up with each triplet, taking off the coats that they had on to counter the mild winters here in California.
“Did you bring any of their gear back with them?”
“All their gear was left here,” she stated, studying him.
He nodded as he stared down at them, then asked her, “How did social services know the babies were here and all alone?”
“We got a call from the police, which is usually how we know, unless a neighbor calls in some suspicious activity, wondering if the children are in danger.”
Anderson nodded. “Do you have any updates on my sister?”
“No,” she told him. “You’ll have to get that directly from her doctors. Have you been to the hospital?”
“Yes, I have,” he stated abruptly. “I left my phone number as the emergency contact, and I came here. I need to see where my brother-in-law is.”
“We don’t know her husband’s whereabouts, and she hasn’t been awake to tell us. She does have a marriage certificate on file.”
“I’ve checked the closets,” Anderson shared. “His things are gone, so I don’t know whether he left before or after the birth of the triplets.”
“Of course that is our concern as well. So, he’s not here?” she asked, turning to look around.
“No, not that I saw since I got here a few hours ago.”
“Good enough.” She continued. “We don’t really have space for the triplets, but I still need to know that they’ll be safe with you. I can’t leave them with you unless I’m sure you can handle this.”
He turned to her, and, with a tone that left no doubt, he vowed, “They will be safe with me. I may not have very much experience with triplets,” he admitted, acutely aware that she watched him closely, “yet I’m a US Marine.
So I am trained to handle the worst events in life.
Therefore, I can assure you that I will do whatever it takes to be here for Talia and for these girls. ”
“I believe that you will.” She pulled out a card from her pocket. “You’ll really just need to dive in. Experience is the best teacher.”
“Oh, I got that part,” he muttered, as he stared down at the triplets, still moving around the room. “I’m just not sure I know exactly what that’ll look like.”
She chuckled. “No, but you’ll find out pretty quickly. If you have any questions, just ask.”
Anderson sighed. As his gaze went from her card to her face, he finally took her in.
For the first time he noted her huge chocolate-colored eyes, with big swooping eyelashes that just seemed to come out of nowhere.
Her brown hair was mostly in a bun, with hair falling out at the back.
It looked as if one of the triplets had grabbed hold and pulled, which he wouldn’t be at all surprised by.
He had seen that on a video from his sister, with the triplets grabbing her hair all the time.
Startled that he had lost track of the urgent matters at hand for a short moment, he smiled, then nodded at her. “So, … about having any other questions, you mean about how to look after them?” he asked.
“Sure,” she replied. “Call about anything.”
“I appreciate that. Hopefully I won’t need to disturb you.”
“Maybe not,” she replied, “although being a caregiver for triplets at any age can be a huge burden, but especially when so young. They are on formula, need lots of diapers, and some starter baby food.”
“Right,” he noted, scratching his chin. “I will get it figured out pretty quickly.”
She walked back to the front door. “I’ve got to get going, but please call if—”
“I’ll be fine,” he stated firmly.
She hesitated, her gaze on the babies now.
“You’ve got my number for a good reason.
If you’re uncertain at all, give me a call.
” She smiled at him. “I’ll be doing checkups on you anyway.
” When her phone buzzed, she read something on her screen and muttered, “I’ve got to get to court and pick up two more.
It’s been a rough few days around here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and he meant it because nobody should have this headache.
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“Good enough.” And, with that, he kept one eye on her until she was in her car, while keeping one eye on the babies, always in motion.
When she finally drove off, he closed and locked the front door, then turned to the triplets, still skidding on their butts, coming toward him, the first one scrunching up her face at him. The others were right behind her.
“The learning curve here will be … hellish.”