Page 158 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

“But I don’t wanna go!”

Wyn stared down at Chaz and realized she was likely in mom stance—fisted hands planted on hips, a scowl on her face, squinty eyes, and heat rising in her cheeks. It was the same stance her mother used to take when she and her brothers got out of control. Wyn had deemed the ‘mom stance’ when she was a teenager and realized just how much crap her mother could take from three kids—until they pushed her right past that limit.

Hell, was she becoming her mother.

“Now Chaz…”

She glanced around at her crew. Mia was all wrapped up in her snowsuit, her hood fastened securely at her neck, and with little mittens on her hands. She sat in the carrier parked by the door. Wyn was sure she was probably sweaty by now.

Justin stood beside her with his snow boots and hooded jacket done up as well. He silently watched the escapade alongside his sister.

Ham stood at Wyn’s side, observing his twin brother’s antics. He, too, was bundled up and ready to go, as was Wyn. They’d stood in the hallway for a good ten minutes now waiting for Chaz to come out of his room—and when he did she realized he wasn’t dressed—and then subsequently argued with him about getting dressed and getting his outer gear on.

“It snowed last night Chaz! After we go to the mall and pick out presents at the Children’s Workshop, we can grab the sleds and head up the hill behind the house. What do you think?”

“I don’t wanna go out in the snow!”

he wailed and stomped. Wyn thought she could see a hint of tears in his eyes.

She crouched and reached for his hand.

“I don’t understand, Chaz. You were excited for the snow to come so we could sled. Remember? I actually talked to Santa last night and…”

He swatted at her hand.

“I don’t want snow! I don’t like Santa!”

“Uh oh,”

Ham said.

“Not good. Hope Santa didn’t hear that.”

Frowning, Wyn stood.

“It’s not okay to hit my hand, Chaz. You don’t have to like Santa if you don’t want to but he likes you anyway. I don’t understand what’s going on. We are all ready to go. Look, all of us. We want you to come with us.”

“I’ll stay here.”

“You’re not old enough to stay by yourself. You have to come with us.”

“But I’m tired. I want to stay home.”

The whining continued.

“I want to watch a movie. I don’t want to get dressed!”

The more words he spewed the louder he became and the redder his face got. Then Chaz dropped to the floor, curled into a ball, and rolled around. Crying.

Wyn just looked at him. Appalled. What the hell?

“He doesn’t feel good.”

She whipped her head to look at Ham. “What?”

“His tummy hurts.”

“Then why didn’t he say that?”

“Because he didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

“Because he misses mom and…”

Chaz rolled and groaned on the floor.

“Miss Wyn…”

he squeaked. Then he wretched and vomited on her boots.

Horrified, Wyn glanced from the mess on the floor to the kid rolling around in agony and then to the other children. In a split-second decision, she looked Ham straight in the eyes and said.

“You’re going to have to help me. Take the little ones upstairs and get their coats and stuff off. Occupy them up there while I take care of Chaz and clean up the mess. Okay?”

He nodded.

“I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

She grinned and patted his head, and then crouched to Chaz. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ham take Justin by the hand and lift Mia in her little carrier. He struggled a bit with the baby.

“You okay, Ham?”

“I’m good Miss Wyn.”

“Holler if you need me.”

“I will.”

Then she turned to the sick one.

“Chaz, sweetheart, let’s see if you can sit up.”

She had no earthly idea what to do so just took it one step at a time. What would her mother have done in a situation like this? Scenarios from when she was a kid rolled through her head. He sat up and she pulled his soiled shirt over his head and laid it aside. He leaned into her and his forehead rested against her cheek.

He was burning hot.

She kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her coat simultaneously, then helped him walk down the hallway toward the master bedroom. If he was feverish she wanted him away from the other children. Last thing she needed was all of them getting sick—but she feared the worse and realized that it was entirely likely she would have four sick kids on her hands very soon.

“Let’s get you to bed, buddy, but first let’s pop in here.”

She helped him into the master bathroom.

“I sorry…”

“Sh,”

she told him.

“Not your fault. Can you sit on the commode? I’m going to wash your face.”

He nodded but clung to the hem of her sweater. She wiped his face with a cool washcloth, across the back of his neck, and over his chest. Then she helped him into Rob’s bed. The boy was lethargic and listless, which worried her. He sat on the edge of the bed while she rummaged around in Rob’s dresser to find a t-shirt, purposely avoiding the infamous Eat at Earl’s fraternity shirt. Finally, she got the t-shirt on and tucked him into bed.

She pushed back the hair from his forehead, still feeling the heat of his fever. Again, thinking like her mother she ran back to the bathroom for a cool, damp washcloth and placed it over his forehead.

“Are you okay for a minute?”

He nodded but his facial expression said otherwise. His eyes were tiny slits and his lips thin and pursed.

“I’m going to go check on the other kids and clean up the hallway. Okay? Yell if you need me. I’ll bring you back some cold water. Maybe some soda.”

“’Kay…”

She stood and lingered for a moment looking down on the boy. He did not look well. Not at all. What was she going to do? Should she call someone? Of course, she had to call Rob. What if he was in a meeting? Crap. He’d not left her any information about how to get in touch with the kids’ mother. Hell, who was the kids’ real mother and father anyway? Where were they? Did they have other family in Harbor Falls who might be able to help?

She didn’t have a clue.

She should have asked more questions and gotten to the bottom of the Mr. Browning mystery before now.

Maybe she was worrying unnecessarily. Maybe Chaz would be better in a few minutes.

Playing nanny was one thing but nursemaid was another. She felt totally out of her element here.

Turning, she headed for the door but stopped short when Chaz called out again. She rotated back in just enough time to see him sit up and projectile hurl yesterday’s cookies all over Rob’s comforter.

****

Rob exhaled with relief as his plane touched down at the Asheville Regional Airport. The day had been an ordeal and a half. The L.A. to Dallas flight took off without a hitch but snow in Denver had delayed his incoming Dallas flight and subsequently, his departure to Atlanta. Once boarded, they sat on the tarmac for another hour waiting for an ice storm to pass and their turn for de-icing.

The cramped plane and close quarters was uncomfortable enough, but to make matters worse, a talkative couple behind him kept him awake and the Wi-Fi on the plane was out of order. He was stuck with no headphones to drown out the noise, and no way to communicate with anyone.

By the time that flight landed in Atlanta, his head pounded. Once deplaning there, time was limited, so he ran to catch the next flight to Asheville—making it to the plane with seconds to spare. As he fell into his seat, mentally and physically exhausted, he closed his eyes and prayed that the hour flight would land according to schedule.

The door closed and they took off before he had a chance to check phone messages.

Later, the jerk of the plane’s wheels touching down on pavement jolted him awake. Rob sat up, glanced around to orient himself, and reached into his pocket for his cell phone while taxiing to the gate. He waited while the phone cycled through and then watched the notifications pop up across his phone.

A call from Gina. Two voice mails from Jack. Seven texts and a voice mail from Wyn.

More selfies and activity pics of the kids, he figured.

The flight attendant made her final remarks. He watched out the window as the plane rolled to a stop and the jet bridge made its way toward the door. As soon as the bing signaled they could get up, he dropped his phone into his jacket pocket and stood to retrieve his carryon luggage from the overhead compartment.

After a few minutes of shuffling off the plane and through the holiday crowd—only three days until Christmas and even this small regional airport was crowded—Rob stopped and searched for the rental car desk. His personal car was back in Harbor Falls at the small airport there.

He figured out where to go then headed that way. His phone vibrated in his pocket so he stopped and pulled it out again. Another text from Wyn.

Please, please call ASAP.

Panic raced across his chest like an out-of-control freight train, skittering and landing with a sickening thud beneath his breastbone. Something was wrong. Quickly, he scrolled through the other texts. Chaz was sick? Hospital? Fumbling with the phone then, his fingers feeling like bricks, he dialed voice mail and listed to Wyn’s frantic message left three hours earlier.

Vomiting…high fever…white cell count…surgery….need your permission….

Shit! He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened in a painful vise-grip. His heart pounded against a steel wall of fear and all he knew was that he needed to get home as fast as possible.

He called her while he raced through the car rental procedures. He barked at the attendant who quickly arranged for his car. The phone kept ringing. He kept dialing while he jogged to the vehicle sitting in row A, space 32, tossed his bag in the back seat, and started the two-hour drive toward Harbor Falls.

He kept calling.

Wyn didn’t answer.

His gut hurt. He didn’t know anything to do but drive. And keep calling.

There was no answer every single damn time he hit her number. Distraught, he drove as fast as he could manage on the mountain roads until he reached the town. By the time he arrived, his sides hurt from the tension of driving and his head spun with scenarios he didn’t want to face.

Two hours was a long time to contemplate anything and everything that could have gone wrong, not to mention how badly he had botched this entire situation. His brother would never forgive him if anything happened to Chaz…

Hell, he would never forgive himself.

Blocking that scenario from his head, he drove straight to the hospital. When he pushed through the emergency room door and into the waiting room, he immediately spotted Wyn and the children.

Three children. Not four. Chaz?

He glanced about, frantic.

Wyn stood holding a crying, red-faced Mia. She bounced her in her arms, an attempt to calm her, he figured. His gaze traveled to Wyn’s face and he noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks. Sitting in a chair near her, Ham cradled Justin on his lap. The little boy was asleep in his older brother’s arms. Ham’s head was cocked to the side, propped up on his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

Wyn faced him as Rob rushed forward. Her crying escalated.

“Oh. Thank God,”

she whispered.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“Dead battery,” she said.

Then Ham cried out.

“Uncle Rob!”

and Wyn’s eyes grew larger.

She whispered the words.

“Uncle Rob?”

and searched his face.

“How is Chaz?”

She stood there, numb it seemed.

“S-surgery. Emergency. They couldn’t wait.”

He deflated a bit but held out his hands and reached for Mia. “Why?”

“Appendix,”

she responded. Her gaze held his.

“I didn’t know what to do.”