Into the Sunshine: Of Love and Loss Series Book Two

9

Before dawn the following morning, Everett dressed and finished packing. Then he lugged the suitcases out of the house and loaded them in the car. The full weight of the long and arduous travel ahead bore down on him. He winced as he limped back inside to tend to the twins and swallowed the bile burning the back of his throat.

A near-crippling wave of fear and anxiety flooded his veins and constricted his heart, making the latter feel like it was locked in a vise, threatening to burst at any second.

Looking at his children's door, he hesitated to reach for the knob. How would he survive two train connections and almost fifteen torturous hours of travel—let alone what awaited him once he arrived at his aunt's house? He barely managed tending them on his own in the comforts of his home.

He needed help. But who—he could run next door and pay Iris to accompany him. Everett blinked several times at the thought. Staring out the window, he could've sworn the clouds parted, and glorious beams of light poured from the heavens, proclaiming its divine inspiration.

A comforting warmth stole over him from head to toe, and he turned, intending to do just that. But Bailey let out her wobbling cry, snapping Everett back to reality. It's for the best, he inwardly muttered, trying and failing to convince himself. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he entered the room.

"Morning, my lovelies," Everett crooned, his nostrils flaring at the pungent aroma of fouled diapers. He muttered a stream of his favorite expletives and quickly stripped down to his underwear, then tossed his clothes and shoes on the reading chair in the other room just to be safe.

Limping to the crib, he scooped up his squalling daughter first. "Bailey love," he murmured. Everett cradled her to his chest and cringed when his hand encountered an odiferous, gooey mess all down her back that had seeped through her pajamas onto the sheet.

"Ah, my sweet, your bowels have waged war with the confines of your diaper again, haven't they? And won by the looks of it." He kissed and nuzzled her head as he hurried into the bathroom, rocking to and fro while waiting for the water to warm.

Once he'd removed the soiled clothing and Bailey was clean, her troubled cries quieted to gentle whimpers, then transformed into magical coos.

"The three of us are going on an adventure today," Everett murmured, washing Elyria's rose and vanilla-scented soap from Bailey's body. "Your very first train ride... and you'll meet family you've never seen before—some of whom you might wish you weren't related to. Aunt Gladys, for one. She's more ornery than an old goat, smells like mothballs, and chews with her mouth open."

Everett wrapped Bailey in a towel, nuzzled kisses in the crook of her neck, and breathed deeply of Elyria's favored scent, ignoring the pang in his chest. Cradling his daughter in the crook of his arm, he limped into the bedroom and got her ready for the day just as Stephen began to fuss.

"I'm beginning to believe you two time this to keep me on my toes," Everett muttered, unable to hold back a grin while brushing a tender finger against Bailey's soft cheek.

Swaddling her in a light blanket, he placed her in the bassinet and then turned his attention to his son. "Sir Stephen," he crooned, burying his hands beneath his small body and picking him up. "Only a wet diaper this morning, unlike your sister. I give you my thanks, dear boy."

Everett kissed him on the head and carried him to the changing table. "We have a long day ahead of us," he murmured, inwardly cringing at the understatement as his innards fluttered and twisted into knots.

"You and Bailey and I are going on a train—two to be exact. They're noisy, and you very well might hate them." The thought gave him worrisome chest palpitations and made his palms sweat. He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. Please don't let that be the case.