“You did. My dad said you were hearty stock. And my mom considers you ranch material. That’s a high compliment. When she met one of my sisters-in-law, she said a raindrop might melt her.”
“To her face?” Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“Yup.” He crossed his heart. “She makes my brother happy. But she panics every time it snows.” Wes flipped the channel to The Food Network.
She giggled at theChoppedbasket. “Rocky Mountain Oysters.”
“You know what they are?” Wes smiled.
“Yes.” She sucked on her lower lip.
“And?” His tone teasing.
“Fine, they’re bull or pig balls.” She blushed, her body tensing. “Wes, I’ve dreamed of this so long, and now I have no idea what to do. And, god, this is too much to ask from you. Two little kids. Your recovery.”
“I told you a while ago, you are not alone. I’m not going anywhere.” He struggled to sit up beside her, but when he got there, with determination, he kissed her.
When headlights flashed in the window, Eleanor flew out of the bed. “They’re here.” She did a little dance.
Wes moved slowly, his body ceding to the exhaustion of his recovery. “Curly, let Tuck and Ken bring them to you,” he pleaded, unable to contain his smile.
She stood in front of the elevator, bouncing from one foot to another. Her excitement ricocheted around the room.
The elevator doors opened, and Ken stepped out, a toddler sitting on his hip. Tuck followed with a pink bundle asleep on his shoulder. Troy and Kip were right behind. There was not a dry eye between them.
Wes sank into the pillow, teary eyes closed.
“Momma, you need to sit,” Ken said.
“Ellie, they still have some spots, but they’ll fade.” Tuck placed the little girl in her arms. Ken helped the little boy onto the bed beside her. He immediately rested his head on her leg.
Eleanor placed her lips against the baby girl’s forehead. “Everyone, this is Birdie.” She turned to show her to Wes and gasped. Wes was lying on the bed, face pale, eyes closed.
Ken made him to his side first. “Wes?”
Wes’s eyes opened and closed.
“Ken, pull out the pulse oximeter in Wes’s bag. Let him sleep,” Tuck said.
“He could sleep through a mortar attack.” Kip shook his head.
Suddenly, a rumble came from the little boy. “Does that count?” She rubbed his tiny back as her eyes filled with panic. “I don’t have anything.”
Troy smiled. “Tut, tut. Wes didn’t know where you’d want to be. He told us to ask you,” Troy said.
“Um, Wes said I could set them up here.” Eleanor looked overwhelmed.
“We’re all here to help, Eleanor. Breathe. Uncle Kip and Uncle Troy will get Uncle Mike, Uncle Chris, Uncle TJ and Aunt Gwen to bring up what you need.” Ken tapped his com. “This is Clarke; Operation Stork to the third floor.”
Within minutes, the room became part of a silent operation. Like clockwork, two cribs were set up, along with a changing table, a dresser, and two playpens. Gwen stocked the changing table with two sizes of diapers, wipes, washcloths and towels. Mike placed a baby bathtub beside Wes’s soaking tub. Kip put sheets on each crib so perfectly she could bounce a quarter on each one.
Troy sat beside the dresser and, with care, loaded it with outfits, onesies and socks. “Ellie, Wes’s mom told us to wash everything before we put it away. The washer ate three socks.” He shrugged, waving the three odd socks on his fingers.
Eleanor slipped out from under the sleeping boy’s head and lay the little girl in the crib with the pink bumpers. Next she picked up her son. “Hello, Reed, I’m your momma. Let’s change those stinky pants.” The little boy slept through the change and was soon asleep in his crib.
After washing her hands, she turned to the group. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.” She walked around and, on tiptoes, kissed each man. Then she turned to Gwen. “Thank you for doing what I couldn’t.” She hugged her.
Wes’s phone sat on the bedside table. She picked it up and handed it to Mike. “It’s all here. The truth.”
