He tucked his hat back over a disheveled shock of sun-streaked brown hair, then awkwardly wrapped the thrashing infant in a blanket. His hands were huge, clumsy, endearingly gentle. When he brushed a sweet kiss across the baby’s soft little scalp, Peggy’s heart swelled until she thought it would explode. She’d never seen a man, any man, exhibit such tenderness. It touched her to the marrow.
Peggy cradled her daughter in the crook of her arm, loosened the blanket to marvel at the perfect little body and, of course, to count each miniature finger and teensy toe. Gratitude surged into her throat, nearly choking her. She swallowed, struggling to speak. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t do much.”
“You saved her life.”
The second shrug was more like a twitch. “She’s a gutsy little gal,” he murmured, angling an admiring glance. “Just like her mama.”
That’s when Peggy saw it, the telltale moisture clinging bright to his stubbled cheeks. Their eyes met and held. Something special passed between them, something warm and wonderful. Something that changed her life.
* * *
Shortly after the second birth, the ambulance arrived and Travis was shuffled aside in the chaos. While the medics tended to the new mother and her twins, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled through the gray drizzle, stopping occasionally to peer through the wet cab window at the frenzy of activity.
A gurney was pulled from the rear of the ambulance and wheeled to the open cab door. Travis strained to watch, but was pushed aside by a burly EMT as the weak woman was lifted out. A baby fussed. Travis thought it was the boy. He was attuned to each infant’s distinctive sound. They were a part of him now.
He stretched upward, trying to see, but caught only a quick glimpse of matching bundles whisked to the waiting ambulance. The gurney wheeled by. Another glimpse, this time of flaming hair spread on white linen, a pale face, eyes closed, beautiful in its purity, smiling in repose.
Someone slapped his shoulder. Someone shook his hand. Travis paid little attention. He was busy watching the ambulance doors close.
A moment later, the vehicle sped away, lights flashing.
Alone now, Travis pulled down the brim of his hat, folded his arms and propped a hip against the cab fender to wait for the tow truck. But his mind replayed the morning’s events over and over and over again. After twenty-eight years of living, Travis Stockwell had finally figured out what life was about.
He’d never be the same.
* * *
Vanderbilt Memorial’s emergency room was packed with patients, clamoring with chaos. A rash of blackout-induced traffic accidents and storm-related injuries had strained the ER’s resources to the breaking point.
Peggy, who’d been wheeled to a curtained examination area, was distressed when her twins were immediately whisked away. She struggled to sit up, was overcome by a wave of dizziness and managed only to prop herself up on one elbow.
A flurry of activity bustled just beyond her cubicle, uniformed personnel rushing with purpose while civilians wandered aimlessly like shell-shocked soldiers.
One civilian caught Peggy’s eye, a bewildered gentleman with glazed eyes. His handsome face was expressionless, and he shuffled back and forth, eyeing the activity around him as if it were the most perplexing thing on earth.
A nurse appeared and took hold of his arm. “There you are, Mr. Smith. We’ve been looking for you.”
The man focused, then frowned. “Smith?”
“For the moment,” the nurse mumbled, distracted as a gurney encircled by medics whizzed past. “At least until we locate your family and find out who you really are.”
“Family?” The man’s confused expression broke Peggy’s heart. He touched the bandage on his head and flinched. “Smith,” he murmured. “Martin Smith.”
“That’s right.” The nurse sighed and ushered him away before Peggy could get her attention.
When another uniformed woman appeared just beyond the cubicle’s open drape, Peggy waved weakly. “Nurse! Please, can you help me?”
The woman glanced around, issued an empathetic smile and hurried over. Peggy clutched her frantically. “Where have they taken my babies?”
“Up to Pediatrics,” the nurse replied, peeling Peggy’s fingers from her wrist.
“But they’re all right, aren’t they?”
The nurse managed a frazzled nod. “I’m sure they’re perfectly healthy, Mrs. Saxon, but we need to examine them. It’s routine for newborns.”
“Why can’t I go with them?”
“Dr. Dowling wants to see you first. He’s with a patient right now, but he’ll be down shortly.” She patted Peggy’s hand, then rushed off in response to a colleague’s call.
Peggy lay weakly against the pillow. Her body was drained, but her mind was a frantic contradiction of fear and relief. It was over. Her babies were safe and healthy, thanks to a certain cab-driving cowboy with puppy brown eyes. She shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.
She bit her lip, shaking off the frightening image. It didn’t matter what might have been. All that mattered was that he had been there, a stoic stranger who’d saved her babies’ lives, probably her life, as well. And she didn’t even know his name.
“Peggy?”
She turned her head and recognized Marsha Steinberg, a member of the city council’s administrative staff. They didn’t know each other well, but their paths had occasionally crossed at city hall where Peggy held a clerical position before taking maternity leave.
The portly woman hurried over. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. “My stars, child, what are you doing here?” Her bloodshot gaze shifted, then her lips thinned into a weak smile. “Why, you’ve had those babies. And so soon, too.” She clucked her tongue and bit her lip. “Time goes by so fast. In the blink of an eye, things change. Lives begin. Lives end.” Her voice quivered, choked to a sob. “So fast.”
Peggy felt a chill. The woman was clearly distraught, and this was a hospital. “Is something wrong, Marsha? Your family…has there been an accident?”
She shook her head, sniffed and forced a smile. “Gracious, look at me, all teary-eyed when this is the best day of your entire life.” She forcefully patted Peggy’s hand, rattling a jangle of bracelets encircling her thick wrist. “Now, where are those beautiful babes of yours? I just can’t wait to see them.”
“Upstairs,” Peggy murmured, following the woman’s gaze to where a familiar, bleak-eyed man was speaking with an equally grim physician. “Is that Hal Stuart?”
A fresh spurt of tears beaded the older woman’s lashes. She nodded and snatched a tissue from the box beside Peggy’s bed.
Peggy frowned. “I thought he and Randi were leaving for their honeymoon right after the wedding.”
Marsha’s face crumpled like a wet shirt. “There wasn’t any wedding,” she wailed, then burst into tears.
Stunned, Peggy didn’t know what to say. The marriage of Hal Stuart and Randi Howell had been touted as the social event of the season. It had been front-page news for months, and since Hal was the mayor’s son, half of city hall, including Peggy, had been involved in finalizing preparations at Squaw Creek Lodge, which had been braced for the biggest nuptial bash in Grand Springs history.
Marsha blew her nose, snatched up another tissue and frantically dabbed her eyes. “It was horrible, simply horrible. The guests were seated, the organ was preparing to play the