Hummingbird Lake

THREE


Sage sensed the wood-carver’s gaze upon her and stifled the urge to turn her head and stick out her tongue at him. She’d never said so much as hello to him, and he still managed to push her buttons. “Fool,” she murmured.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“I was thinking about the hot springs pools,” she improvised. “Gabe’s design has made them so inviting.”

“I totally agree,” Sarah said. “I think that—oh, Anna is waving at me. She’s watching Mom today for me, so I’d better go see what she wants. Save a place for me in the barbecue line, would you?”

“Sure,” Ali told her. As Sarah hurried off, Ali brought the conversation back to Gabe’s landscape design. “I especially like the rock work around the pool that’s off by itself.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Nic said. “I learned early on that the smell of sulfur and pregnancy don’t mix for me.”

A note in Nic’s voice had Sage giving her a close look. She spied lines of tension on her friend’s brow and around her mouth. Something was up. Softly she asked, “Nic?”

Nic pasted on a bright but not quite genuine smile. “In fact, even though the prevailing breeze shoots the sulfur fumes away from the estate, I’m catching a few whiffs now, so I think I’ll change my venue for a bit.” Nic linked her arm through Ali’s. “I haven’t seen the wedding gown quilt our Patchwork Angels bee completed. Ali, could I talk you into showing it to me?”

Sage thought Ali might have picked up on something in Nic’s demeanor, too, because she looked hard at Nic for a moment before brightly saying, “I’d love to show you. It’s in the Aspenglow suite, and it’s one of my very favorite rooms at Angel’s Rest.”

Nic glanced at Sage. “You’ll come with us?”

“Absolutely.”

Nic called out to Gabe, “Honey? I’m going up to the house with Ali and Sage to see our completed wedding gown quilt.”

“Okay.”

The three friends made their way toward the old Victorian mansion, others slowing their progress with greetings, comments, and questions. Once, Nic stopped beside a cottonwood tree and rested her weight against it, her eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Sage checked her watch, and Ali mouthed the words, “Oh no.” By the time they reached the house and entered through the kitchen door, Nic’s expression had tightened. The moment they were alone, Sage stated, “You’re in labor, aren’t you?”

Nic chewed her lower lip and grabbed the handle of the refrigerator for support. “Yes, I think I am. Will you check me?”

Ali’s eyes widened with concern. “Um, don’t you think we should call the doctor?”

Nic and Sage shared a look, then Sage said, “Actually, I am a doctor. I trained as a pediatric surgeon, but I’ve delivered my fair share of babies. I’ll ask you to keep that to yourself, Ali. Now, let’s get you upstairs, Nic.”

Ali held back any comment until they’d entered the Aspenglow suite and she shut the door behind them. Then as Sage ducked into the attached bathroom to wash her hands, she said, “I admit I’m surprised, Sage. Reassured for Nic, but surprised.”

Her voice tight with pain, Nic said, “It’s her deep, dark secret.”

Ali stripped the beautiful wedding gown quilt off the bed and helped Nic onto it, asking, “Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t talk about it,” Sage told them when she reentered the bedroom. “Especially not now. We have bigger fish to fry.”

Ali started to leave the room, but Nic said, “No, Ali. Stay. Sage might have delivered babies, but you’ve had them. I’d appreciate your input on this.”

Moments later, Sage scowled. “For crying out loud, Nicole. You must have been having contractions at the church this morning. You’re in active labor. We need to call for the helicopter.”

“It’s that close?” Nic asked as Sage offered her a hand to pull herself up to a seated position.

“Only if you don’t want your babies’ birthplace to be the top of Sinner’s Prayer Pass. You are too far along to risk going in the car.”

“Oh, dear. I really didn’t think this was it. I’ve had so many aches and pains and pressure that I kept thinking it would stop like all the other times.”

“This time it will stop with two babies being born,” Sage told her. “Not before then.”

“So, okay. Let’s call for the helicopter.” Nic grimaced as another pain hit her, then said, “Gabe probably won’t be happy.”

“No, he probably won’t,” Ali agreed.

“I don’t have my camera, either.” Nic pursed her lips in a pout. “Do you think Celeste has one around here that we could borrow?”

“I have one in my purse downstairs,” Ali said. “I’ll get it for you on our way out.”

As Sage phoned for the medical helicopter, Ali walked with Nic toward the staircase. Halfway there, Nic stopped abruptly and said, “Oh my.”

She glanced downward as fluid gushed from between her legs.

Ali took one look and called, “Sage? Her water broke.”

At that point, Nic gasped and bent over, her pain obvious. “Oh … Ali. I can feel … oh. Oh, whoa. Whoa. Whoa. They’re coming. They’re coming now!”

Sage took one look at Nic, and her stomach rolled. No, no, no. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t do this. For a few long seconds that lasted like hours, she was back in the stifling heat on a rutted dirt path, supporting the weight of a laboring mother walking to assist nature’s work.

The sound of her name was a gunshot. “Sage!”

She jerked back to the present. Nic. Her friend. I have to do this. I promised her. I can do this. I will do this.

Sage reached down deep inside of her, past the fear and the ugliness and the grief, to find Dr. Anderson. “Okay, I guess we’re doing this here,” the physician said. “Ali? You want to go get Gabe?”

“I’m on my way.”


Gabe Callahan was talking with Henry Moorland, owner of the Double R Ranch, repeating the story about the time he and his brothers had had the bright idea to ride a local rancher’s bull. “Two of my brothers are identical twins,” he said, grinning at the memory. “Mark and Luke peeled off their shirts and went into the pasture and—”

He broke off abruptly when he heard Ali Timberlake call, “Gabe!”

He whipped his head around at the note of urgency in her voice. The moment he met her concerned gaze, he started moving toward her. “Is it Nic?”

“She’s in labor. The babies are coming. Now.”

Gabe took it like a punch to the gut. She’s in labor. The babies are coming. “Okay, I’ll go get the car.”

“No, Gabe. The babies are coming now. There’s no time. Don’t worry, though. Sage is with her.” Lowering her voice, Ali added, “She’s a doctor.”

Don’t worry? Don’t worry? Grimly he asked, “Where is she?”

“Up at the house.”

He took off running.

He covered the distance to the house in record time, and bounded up the steps and into the house. “Nic?” he shouted.

“Up here, Gabe,” Sage called.

He had a lump the size of Texas in his throat as he took the stairs three at a time, following the terrifying sounds of his wife’s groans and Sage Anderson’s calm voice. “That’s good. You’re doing fine, Nic. Now, push. Push, push, push. Take a breath. Push, push, push.”

She’s pushing. In that second, due to previous experience and the refresher childbirth class he’d taken in Gunnison this past summer, Gabe recognized that the situation was indeed too far gone to transport her to Gunnison. That meant no hospital. They were doing this here. Thank God Sage is a doctor. Please, God. Please, please, please, please.

He burst into the room. “Nic?”

“Wash your hands, Gabe,” Sage instructed. She was behind Nic on the bed, supporting her body while she pushed. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing great. Now rest.”

Gabe ducked into the bathroom and hurriedly washed his hands, then rushed back to Nic. “Are you okay?”

“So far, so good.” She smiled up at him tremulously. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to do it this way.”

“That’s okay. I’ll yell at you about it later.” Without being told, he took Sage’s place and supported his wife just as she sucked in a breath. “Here comes another one.”

From that moment on, time passed in a weird progression of agonizingly slow seconds and fast-as-lightning minutes. The dressing table mirror was arranged in such a way that he could see what was happening at the bottom of the bed, and he only vaguely noted that Ali Timberlake arrived with a camera in hand.

“Did you track down the supply cart?” Sage asked her.

“Yes. Celeste is on her way with it now.”

“Oh, heavens,” Nic said, panting.

“Get her up,” Sage instructed. “There you go, girlfriend. Push, push, push.”

Gabe kept his gaze glued to the mirror. Nic moaned and groaned.

Sage encouraged, “Attagirl. You can do it, Nic. We’re almost there. Almost.”

Nic let out a scream and a little head popped out.

“Dear Jesus,” Gabe prayed as seconds later Nic gave another push and the baby slid out into Sage’s waiting hands.

“We have a girl,” Sage said.

For a heartbreakingly long few seconds, nothing happened, then Gabe and Nic’s daughter drew air into her lungs and let out an angry mewl.

Crying and laughing at the same time, Nic said, “She sounds like a little lamb.”

“So says the veterinarian,” Sage said as she tucked the little one securely into the crook of her arm. “Ali? How long will it take Celeste to—”

“I’m here.” The older woman blew into the room pushing a medical cart. “I decided it was easier to bring the whole thing. Colt carried it up for me. What do you need?”

“Sterile scissors, to begin with,” Sage said.

With Celeste acting as a competent assistant, Sage saw to the baby’s immediate needs, then handed her to her mother. “You three say a quick hello, because there is more work here to be done.”

Tears were flowing down Nic’s face as she cradled their daughter against her. “Oh, look, Gabe. She’s beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful?”

She was a wrinkly, squiggly thing covered with blood and cheesy-looking stuff, but he agreed. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Love filled his heart as he watched his daughter and her mother, and when the memory of another birth arose in his mind, he refused to let it steal his joy. He would never forget the son he had lost or the woman who had given birth to him, but this was a moment for the future, not the past. Then Nic let out another groan, and he focused his mind on the present.

“I need another pair of arms here,” Sage said. “Celeste? Ali? One of you take the baby.”

“Let me,” Sarah Reese said. Just when she’d joined the gathering, Gabe didn’t know, but he was glad to have her here. It felt right for Nic to have her closest friends with her now. Sarah held out her arms and cradled the baby, now swaddled in the receiving blanket Celeste had brought along with the medical cart. “Well, now. Aren’t you the prettiest little thing?”

“A little angel,” Celeste said.

At that point things got busy again. Twelve minutes later, Nic delivered Gabe’s second little girl.

By that time, a crowd had gathered downstairs and the helicopter was waiting to take them to the hospital. After a brief discussion and a phone consultation between Sage and the obstetrician in Gunnison, the decision was made to send the bird back without any patients. Nic and the girls were doing fine.

Nic and the girls. His girls.

Emotion shuddered through him, and Gabe closed his eyes and fought back tears. Celeste shooed him out of the room to announce the births to those gathered downstairs while the women tidied up. He was glad to have a brief escape. He needed to get hold of his emotions before he broke down and bawled like a baby.

Walking to the landing and gazing down at the gathering in sort of a shell-shocked gaze, Gabe felt a sense of belonging that went all the way to the bone. As he fumbled for words to express himself, Lori Reese lost patience.

“Well?” she demanded. “We heard crying. What did she have?”

His smile broke like sunlight on Easter morning. “Girls. Nic and I have girls. Mama and babies are doing great.”

A cheer went up, and Gabe gave a little wave, then turned away. He didn’t want anyone to see the tears he no longer could quell. He retreated down the hallway toward the room where his family awaited, then collapsed against the wall. He closed his eyes and his fingers found the small silver medal he wore around his neck, the gift from Celeste designed by Sage that the older woman had called the “official healing center blazon awarded to those who have embraced healing’s grace.”

Gabe didn’t know about that. He wore it as a symbol of his own rebirth. He was John Gabriel Callahan, son, brother.

Husband.

Father.

When he opened his eyes, Celeste stood before him, her smile warm, a tender look in her eyes. “Congratulations, Gabe.”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“You are very welcome. Now, you have three ladies waiting on you inside. The three of you need some alone time.”

“Okay.” He pushed away from the wall, but before he could take a step, Celeste placed her hand on his arm.

“You should get in touch with your family, Gabe. Tell them your glorious news.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I’m ready. I think I’ll do that. Or, better yet, once the girls are old enough to travel, I think we should pay them a visit.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “Maybe for Christmas.”

“Yes. The season of miracles. It’s fitting.”

Gabe bent and kissed her cheek, then walked into the bedroom, where Nic had one baby at her breast. Sage sat in the rocking chair with the other. The babies appeared to have been washed, and Nic’s hair was freshly brushed. “You are so beautiful,” he said to her.

Sage rose from the rocker. “It’s about time you came back, Daddy,” she said, handing the baby over to Gabe. “I have it on certain authority that there’s a plate of barbecue waiting for me downstairs in the kitchen. Holler if you need me, but I don’t expect you will.”

As Sage quietly left the room, Gabe kicked off his shoes, then sat beside Nic in the queen-sized bed. “I love you, Nicole Callahan.”

“I love you, too, Gabe Callahan.”

He smiled from one baby to the other. “I want to say that to these little bits, but I don’t know what to call them. Do you?”

“I thought …” Nic glanced up at him. “Maybe after our mothers?”

Gabe thought back to when his mother was still alive, and his father’s pet name for her. “Meg, for Margaret? Or Mary.”

“Meg, I think. And Carolyn for mine? Meg and Cari Callahan?”

“Works for me. What about middle names?”

“Hmm …”

“I have an idea,” Gabe said, gazing at his girls. “It’s probably hokey.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know—I guess it’s the Eternity Springs influence—but somehow it just feels right.”

“What feels right?”

“I think—if you don’t mind—I’d like their middle names to be Faith and Joy.”

“Oh, Gabe. That’s sweet. A little hokey, but that’s what makes it perfect. I think Margaret Joy Callahan and Carolyn Faith Callahan are our names. You choose which baby gets which name.”

Gabe frowned as he studied his daughters’ identical little faces. “We’re gonna have to mark them somehow so we don’t get them mixed up.”

Nic shook her head. “Their cries are different. Our firstborn is louder.”

“Which one is she?”

“The one you’re holding.” She waited a beat, then added, “Sarah put a dot of fingernail polish on her toe just in case.”

“Starting on makeup already.” He sighed. Then he pressed a kiss to his firstborn daughter’s forehead. “Okay, then let’s name her Cari. It comes first in the alphabet. That’ll help me remember.”

“Don’t be silly. You won’t forget.”

She was right. He had been blessed with another chance at happiness, and he intended to treasure it, revel in it, from this moment forward. He wouldn’t forget a minute of it. John Gabriel Callahan’s heart overflowed. Here, in this one little corner of the big wide world, he’d found his faith, his joy, and his love.


Sage’s stomach was about to erupt. She’d held off her nervousness, nausea, and panic during the heat of the moment, but once the emergency was behind her, she began to lose it. Seeking fresh air, she exited the house by the back door and fled from the crowd toward the mountain behind the estate and the cover of the forest.

She made it as far as the carriage house apartment. Ducking around behind it, she bent over double and vomited. When she was finished, she leaned against the house, closed her eyes, and shuddered.

A male voice she didn’t recognize said, “Please tell me it wasn’t the barbecue. I had two helpings.”

The wood-carver. Of course. That was just her luck. Her cheeks stinging with embarrassment, Sage warily opened her eyes. He extended his hand, offering her a dampened washcloth. She accepted it, wiped her brow, then said a bit crankily, “Where did you come from?”

“I’m staying here in the carriage house.” He waited a beat, then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just …” She exhaled heavily as the memories gnawed at the edge of her consciousness, so she welcomed a distraction. “You shouldn’t have entered the arts festival contest as a local.”

He frowned. “What arts festival?”

Her fingers were beginning to tremble. She narrowed her gaze and focused on Rafferty. “The one last month where you won the blue ribbon.”

“I didn’t enter any contest.”

“It was your work.” She recalled the image of the artwork and concentrated on it. “It was beautiful. A segmented vase made of madrone, tulipwood, wenge, and maple.”

“Shaped like a hot air balloon?” he asked.

“Yes.” In her mind’s eye she saw a balloon floating over a bloody killing field. Sage fisted her hands so tight that her nails drew blood from her palms. Stop it!

He shrugged. “I gave that to Celeste as a gift. I certainly never intended to show it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then asked, “Did she sell it?”

“No. It’s in the Aspenglow suite at the main house. With its blue ribbon.” Her chest grew tight, and it was difficult to breathe. “Could I have a glass of water?”

“Sure. Come with me.”

He led her inside the carriage house apartment and to the kitchen, where he filled a glass with water and offered it to her, saying, “You’re acting kinda cranky about that blue ribbon.”

“I like to win.” She took a sip, then waited a moment to make certain it would stay down. Her mouth tasted sour and she grimaced.

“There’s a toothbrush in a guest basket in the bathroom if you want it.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, rinsed her face, then stared into the mirror. Instead of her own reflection, she saw … carnage.

It hit her then, the full-blown panic attack. Hyperventilation. Racing heart. Dizziness. Tight throat. Sweats.

She must have made some sound, because as if from a great distance, she heard him knock on the door and call her name. How long that went on, she didn’t know, but at some point he was there, staring at her, frowning at her.

“You okay?” When she didn’t answer, simply stood there shaking, he said, “Stupid question. I’ll call 911.”

He started to leave. She made a jerky grab at his arm and croaked out, “No.”

He studied her. “You’re not having a heart attack, are you?”

When she shook her head, he took hold of her arm. “Okay, then. Since you’re a physician, I’ll take your word for it and chalk this up to a panic attack, with which, unfortunately, I am all too familiar. But if you keel over dead, you’re not allowed to sue me. C’mere, you need to sit down before you fall down.”

“You know about me?” she managed to ask as he guided her into the living room. “Being a doctor?”

“Word got out during the excitement.”

“Oh no,” she said, whimpering. “I don’t want that. They’ll ask me. I can’t talk about it.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about anything. That’s one of the great things about having freedom of speech—you have the freedom to shut up, too.” He sat in a rocking chair, then tugged her down onto his lap.

The tiny little part of Sage that could still think decided the man was being way too familiar, but the rest of her didn’t care. She clung to him like a lifeline. He smelled of wood smoke and emanated safety. His arms offered sanctuary that she couldn’t resist.

“I delivered those babies,” she murmured, fighting back the memories washing over her, dark and ugly and full of despair. “Two healthy little babies.”

“That you did.” He held her and rocked her and murmured soothing sounds against her ear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the past retreated and the panic dissipated. Sage could breathe again. At that point, a river of despair washed through her and with it, finally, came tears. A flood of tears.

She sobbed against a stranger’s broad chest as if her world had come to an end. In many ways, that’s exactly what had happened. A little more than five years ago, the world as she had known it ended on an African savannah.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Colt Rafferty murmured. “It’s poison when you keep it inside. Get it all out.”

So she did. She cried for the children. Cried for her lost career. Cried because sometimes evil won. She lost all track of time, but for these stolen minutes, for the first time in a very long time, she felt safe and protected and not so alone. Throughout it all, Colt continued to rock her.

Finally, when the storm of tears had expended all their fury, she rested, completely spent. Colt allowed her a few minutes, then said, “A big part of my job is solving puzzles, so I’m inclined to explore what happened here. I know that you are Sage Anderson, owner of the gallery in town. I know you are a painter and have a competitive artistic streak. Today you served as Nic Callahan’s obstetrician and delivered her twin daughters, but after keeping your cool throughout, you fell apart. That makes you interesting, Sage. Fascinating.”

“I don’t talk about it,” Sage said, knowing she should move but not quite ready to do so.

“That’s okay. Puzzle solving is more fun when you discover clues all on your own.” With that, he put his fingers beneath her chin, tilted up her face, and kissed her.


She tasted minty fresh and surprised. Okay, make that shocked, he revised after she broke speed records scrambling off his lap.

“I’m not a puzzle,” she snapped. “I’m a … a …”

“Doctor?” he suggested.

Her mouth moved, but no words came out.

“Artist who craves blue ribbons?”

Her chin came up. “I’m a woman.”

He grinned. “Yes, you are definitely a woman. A beautiful, intriguing puzzle of a woman—who I suspect hasn’t been kissed in far too long.”

Satisfaction washed through Colt as her pale complexion flooded with color and her limp, weary posture grew straight and strong. “Bite me, Rafferty.”

His laughter followed her out of the door.

Colt didn’t see Sage Anderson again before he departed Eternity Springs the next day. But in the days and weeks that followed, he thought of her often.

He truly did love puzzles.