Bonding with the Babies, page 5
Zoey recognized many of the adults—Frost’s brother Sharpe and sisters Ruby and Molly. She’d been previously introduced to Molly’s husband and children, but she didn’t yet see Felicity or Avery or their spouses. A dark-haired man had his arm possessively around Ruby, so Zoey mentally catalogued that knowledge, pairing the two up. That left a pretty ginger-haired woman as Sharpe’s significant other. The preteen boy with the mop of red curls was no doubt related to this woman, and once again, Zoey mentally indexed the information, hoping against hope she’d be able to keep it all straight in her mind.
She’d been so worried about introducing the twins to the Winslows that she hadn’t really thought about how much their group had grown and how many new people she’d be meeting today.
Zoey wasn’t usually shy, but it felt as if the whole Winslow shindig had grown substantially since she’d last been here. It was more than a little overwhelming since all eyes would be on her—both those she knew and those to whom she’d be introduced.
“Zoey?”
She looked down to see that Frost was holding his arms up to her, his gaze questioning. Evidently while she was sitting in the sleigh woolgathering, he’d lit the bonfire, which was already turning into a snapping blaze.
“Sorry,” she apologized, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was apologizing for, other than not knowing how long he’d been standing there with his arms up, waiting to help her down.
“No worries. You want to hand me Dante first? I’ll give him to whoever is most anxious to hold him first and then I’ll come back for you and Ari. I can’t wait to show the twins around.”
He scooped Dante into his arms and turned toward his waiting family. “This chunky little fellow is my son, Dante,” he said proudly, gently kissing the baby on top of his head. “Who wants first dibs at him?”
There was a mad scramble toward the baby, so much so that Zoey held her breath. It looked like a swarm of people surrounding the infant, and Zoey wondered again how she was going to get through this evening. Mostly, the men in the group held back and let the cooing women fight over who got to hold Dante first. Felicity won out, and she immediately curled the baby in her arms while a man, most likely her husband, looked on with a grin.
Joined by Zoey’s mom, who’d arrived just after them, Frost immediately returned to the sleigh, passing Ari to her grandma and helping Zoey down with his other hand, curling his arm gently around her waist and easily lifting her to the ground. He might hate her now after all had been said and done, but that didn’t stop him from being a perfect gentleman. But how could he be any less? She shouldn’t have expected any less from him. Her whole life may have changed, but he was still the Frost she’d fallen in love with back in high school. The sensitive, caring man who’d made her heart work overtime every time they were together.
“Here’s my beautiful daughter, Ari.” Frost introduced the second baby, who was now back in his arms, to the group with another wide, joyful grin.
“How blessed can you be?” asked a burly fellow with a booming voice and a gleam of amusement sparkling from his blue eyes. Zoey remembered this man as Avery’s husband Jake. “Babies are so fun at that age. Or at any age, really. And you’ve got two for the price of one.”
Just as they had with Dante, the women swarmed around Frost, wanting to be the first to take baby Ari off his hands. Zoey hovered behind him, unsure of what to do or say, and feeling as if she were standing out like a stark, prickly weed in the midst of a fine field of colorful wildflowers.
Frost glanced over his shoulder and gestured Zoey to his side. “I’m sure most of you remember Zoey from back during my high school and college days when we were dating, but...well, yeah,” he stammered before coming to a slow stop, apparently just as unable to explain their situation as she was. There weren’t words for their current condition. “We haven’t...er...seen each other in a while, but she is the twins’ mother.”
And that was all he said.
Chapter Four
No judgment.
There could have been. Very possibly even there should have been. Frost definitely deserved a lecture, at the very least, for his part in having children out of wedlock. He’d broken not only with his own faith, but that of his family. But as he made a quick sweep of those gathered around him, all he saw was joy beaming from every face and genuine, supportive smiles all around.
Frost swallowed hard. Despite how hard he was on himself, he’d known this would be how his amazing siblings would react. To the Winslows, any baby was a blessing and a cause for celebration. No matter what circumstances had led to the birth of the twins, everyone still embraced them—and him.
Ever since they’d arrived at the bonfire, Dante and Ari had been passed around from one Winslow sibling to another, as if they were participating in some live-infant game of hot potatoes, with one small but critical change in the rules. Everyone wanted to keep the sweet, precious potatoes in their arms, not pass Dante or Ari on to the next person.
Frost realized he wasn’t going to get a turn to hold his twins anytime soon, but he supposed that was the whole point of them being there at all and why he’d called his siblings to gather at the bonfire in the first place. He smiled and settled into his usual spot on a large tree stump. After opening his guitar case and pulling it out, he took a moment to tune it by ear before breaking into song, a familiar ancient hymn he could play underneath the mill of everyone’s happy conversations.
He’d just started the second verse when Zoey joined him with the sweet, poignant strings of her violin.
Even though he’d been the one to suggest she bring her instrument to accompany him as she had back when they’d been dating, the sound of the violin surprised him so much that he nearly fell backward off his seat. He played a couple of off-sounding chords before he was able to pull himself together enough to join her again.
It had been so long since they’d played their instruments together. In some ways it felt like yesterday, and in other ways, it felt like forever. At one time in the not-so-distant past, he’d thought their magnificent harmonies, with both their stringed instruments and their voices, were part of why God had called them together as a couple. He’d believed they would minister together with their music all their lives.
The magnificent sound was still there between them, even if the relationship wasn’t.
He paused when the song ended, glancing at Zoey and waiting for her to give him some guidance as to what she wanted to play next. She likewise hesitated and looked at him until their gazes locked and they shared an awkward laugh. It never used to be this uncomfortable between them.
Back when they’d first started dating, they’d been so finely tuned with each other that they could segue from one song to the next without missing a single beat—even if the musical genres were widely ranged and diverse from song to song. They could play everything from country, to pop, to classical, to Broadway, to hymns and worship songs. Sometimes it was just Frost and Zoey playing and singing together, and sometimes the other Winslows joined in, creating amazing harmonies that always moved Frost’s heart—the hymns and contemporary worship songs most especially.
Zoey lifted her bow and closed her eyes as she started one of her favorite classical pieces, and Frost delicately fingered the guitar chords to back her up. As always, she was spectacular, and as he’d already told her, he had no doubt she would rock her audition for the Colorado Symphony Orchestra. In his opinion, she probably ought to be given first chair, as her gift was so magnificent. He had no doubt she could do whatever she set her mind to, especially with her music, especially the CSO.
When she finished the classical piece, there wasn’t a single sound around the bonfire other than the crackle and snap of the fire. Everyone was enrapt, even the babies, and it took a few moments for the group to shake themselves off enough to clap for Zoey. When the applause finally came, though, it was all whooping and laughing, as loud and rambunctious as only the Winslow clan could be.
Dante, who was currently sitting on Jake’s lap, clapped his meaty hands with the help of the large man. Ari, on the other hand, who had been lulled into a sound sleep on Emma’s lap while the music had been playing, was now jolted awake from the noise and promptly burst into frightened tears.
“Aww, did we accidentally scare you, baby girl?” Emma’s husband Sharpe cooed, taking Ari from his wife and curling her onto his wide shoulder, gently patting her back to soothe and reassure her.
“I’ll take her,” said Frost, preparing to set his guitar aside for the sake of his child. In truth, he had no idea what to do with a crying baby, but Ari was his daughter, and so it was his responsibility to love and comfort her when she was upset. And if his edgy brother Sharpe could do it successfully, how hard could it be? His brother was hardly an expert with babies, although his wife Emma was currently four months pregnant with their first child.
But before he had the opportunity to put down his guitar, Zoey’s mom waved him away, pulling a bottle out of a nearby zebra-patterned diaper bag and handing it to Sharpe.
“We’ve got things here under perfect control, hon. You and Zoey just keep playing your lovely songs together.”
Frost caught Zoey’s gaze and raised his eyebrows. The decision was hers to make as to whether or not to keep playing, as well as on the next song choice.
Zoey grinned and pointed her bow toward Emma’s little brother Aidan and his tousled mop of red hair. “This one’s for you,” she told the preteen, and then promptly broke into the old Irish fiddling reel “Red-Haired Boy.”
Frost quickly jumped in to accompany her, enjoying the opportunity to do a little more complex fingering on the strings as opposed to the simple chording he had been doing in previous songs. He marveled at how swiftly Zoey could switch from the most difficult classical pieces to fiddling an Irish reel with such joy and vibrancy that it got everyone from oldest to youngest on their feet dancing around the light of the bonfire.
How could it even be the same instrument—the violin and the fiddle? It was truly remarkable, the difference in the two sounds, and it was all about who held it in their hands. Frost was well aware of everything Zoey could do with her instrument, from Chopin and Bach to Irish folk songs and country jigs—without pausing a single beat in between them. He’d even seen her play an electric fiddle once at a concert, although she’d later admitted that it hadn’t really been her thing, and she preferred the violin she’d grown up with. It had been a good experience for her, though, she’d told Frost, and she enjoyed it. She just preferred the nice, steady instrument she’d had for years.
Though she was wearing snow boots and not dancing shoes, Zoey moved over by Aidan and tapped out an Irish step around the boy without missing a single note, the beat going faster and faster as she danced and twirled. Aidan stood stock still while his cheeks turned a blooming pink that clashed with the red of his curly hair.
“The name of the song is ‘Red-Haired Boy,’” Frost told Emma with a grin, still picking at his own instrument.
“Isn’t that cool, Aidan, that someone wrote a song about you?” Emma asked with a bright smile. “My sweet, redheaded brother.”
Frost smothered a chuckle, remembering how awkward and ungainly he’d felt when he was Aidan’s age, and how mortified he would have been by all the attention he was currently receiving. Being a preteen boy, Aidan looked as if he wanted to dig a hole and disappear into it rather than have someone single him out and sing and dance around him.
Zoey switched to another familiar contemporary praise song and Frost’s siblings and their spouses sang along, their voices remarkably harmonious as they broke into parts, everything from Jake’s deep bass to Felicity’s high, sweet soprano. To Frost, who lived for creating music both with his instrument and vocally, this was God at work. Sometimes it sounded as if there were even more voices joining in than he could count of the people present.
After quickly double-checking on where the twins were—currently curled up and sound asleep on Ruby’s and Molly’s laps—Frost took a deep, cleansing breath and added his own rich tenor to the mix of voices. What had started out as an anxiety-filled, difficult-to-take-a-breath evening was quickly turning into one he was genuinely enjoying. Gone were his tight muscles and deep frown; they were now replaced by feelings he couldn’t even put into words.
It had been far too long since he and Zoey had accompanied each other on their instruments and joined their voices together. There was a time he’d believed this would never happen again.
Maybe, just maybe, the future wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
He could only pray that sentiment might be true one day.
* * *
For a short while, Zoey had lost herself in playing her violin, joining in the jubilant music with Frost and his family and completely forgetting all the trials that had once taken her away from here. It felt so right to be sharing this bonfire and her music with the Winslows. She loved the opportunity to do a little joyful fiddling for a change, being able to just close her eyes and let go. Lately, it had been nothing but hours upon hours a day of serious classical violin work for her, as her audition for the CSO was quickly approaching.
She loved this evening so much. What a blessing it was turning out to be. Odd as it sounded, playing around the Winslow bonfire with the whole family present had been one of her favorite ways to spend dates with Frost back when they were together. Joy filled her heart as she remembered those old times...before.
She had to admit she’d been worried and embarrassed about facing the Winslows this evening. She used to be close to some of his sisters, but she hadn’t talked to them in years. Not since she’d broken their brother’s heart.
And as if that wasn’t enough to make them all hate her, she’d suddenly shown up in town with Frost’s babies—twins she hadn’t even told him about until well after they were born.
They very well could have judged her the way she judged herself every moment of every day.
They could have. And as far as she was concerned, they should have. But they hadn’t. She hadn’t felt any of the ostracism or cold shoulders she’d expected. Instead, everyone in the Winslow clan, those she knew and those to whom she’d been newly introduced, had welcomed her—and Dante and Ari—with open arms. They’d joyfully passed around the babies to the point where she hadn’t held either one of them even once since she’d arrived. Between their broods of children that spanned in age from newborns to preteens—no one could ever accuse any of Frost’s siblings and their spouses of not loving kids.
These people, this bonfire...it felt as if she’d come home.
Out of nowhere, the happiness she’d been experiencing darkly clouded over in her chest like a sudden thunderstorm, lightning striking through her temples and behind her eyes. She was used to major migraines coming on quickly at times, but this one was different. Her heart clenched and then raced as if she were experiencing a heart attack, and she couldn’t catch a breath. Her gaze darkened, spots appeared before her eyes, and for a moment she thought she might lose consciousness.
It had to be a migraine, as different as this one felt, perhaps something caused by anxiety. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a genuine, physical panic attack was accompanying it. But her head didn’t hurt nearly as bad as her heart.
She couldn’t do this.
What had she been thinking?
“Oh,” she sobbed under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut and clapping a hand over her mouth. With her other shaky hand, she hurriedly placed her violin in its case and snapped it closed. Without looking back for fear the others would see the tears streaming down her face, she headed straight for the tree line as fast as she could run, though she was hampered by the six inches of new snowfall.
“Zoey?” She heard Frost’s voice coming from close behind her, and she quickened her pace. “Zoey? Honey? What happened? Are you okay?”
She didn’t stop, even though she knew how easy it would be for Frost to catch up to her. It wasn’t as if she could outrun him, even without the snow hampering her. He was a large man with equally huge strides compared to her. He could take one step to every two or three of hers.
Her breath came in short, painful gasps as the cold air stung her lungs. She scrambled forward, branches scratching her arms as if they were reaching for her, and roots she couldn’t see through the snow threatened to trip her. Her boots slipped and skidded.
She couldn’t think straight, and her heart pounded in her ears. She only knew she had to get away from the bonfire and the Winslows—just until she could pull herself together. Embarrassment flooded through her.
She glanced back to see if she could spot Frost chasing her.
Thud.
As she turned around, she suddenly ran into what at first felt like a solid brick wall—but the wall in question immediately surrounded her with strong, muscular arms and spoke in a familiar soft, tender voice.
Somehow, Frost had managed to get around her without her seeing him and had approached her from the front.
“Zoey?” Frost asked softly, gently stroking her hair. “Honey, what’s wrong??”
A tremor ran through her. Her breath changed, and not just from her panicked running. She was positive Frost hadn’t even realized he’d used his special term of endearment for her.
Twice now, he’d said it—once when she’d been running and now when he stopped her. Her heart twisted, more from emotion than physical exertion.
“Zoey?” he asked again in a whisper. “Talk to me.”
She startled and pressed closer into his arms when a dog barked near her heel. She hadn’t realized Daisy had been following her as well. The beagle put her front paws on Zoey’s jeans and nuzzled her hand with her muzzle, her whole backside wiggling for attention.
