Her Secret Twins. Janette Foreman

Grant slid his hands deep into his pockets, gravel scraping beneath his boots. When he’d worked here just out of high school, Frank held summer camps for training bird dogs, and in the winter, he guided hunters. The South Dakota prairie teemed with pheasants and grouse. One winter, some hunters had sold Frank a pair of Llewellins, and Grant had purchased Chief from their first litter.

      He led the way into the barn where the dog food was kept, and Kallie followed, Chief slipping in between them.

      “Do you remember where we keep the food?”

      Instead of answering, he simply took keys from a nail on the wall and unlocked a cabinet beneath the worktable. Then he pulled out the tub of food.

      Chief ran the length of the barn, joining Bella, his second setter who was too busy checking out all the new smells to acknowledge their presence.

      “Did you get your other dog from your shelter?”

      “Yep. That’s Bella. She’s gun-shy, but we do well together.”

      He called her over and Bella approached with obvious fondness. Depositing the keys on the worktable, he knelt and buried his fingers in the tri-colored hair behind her ears. Bella closed her eyes and tilted her head toward him. Then he scooped food into a dish, and at the sound of food hitting metal, Chief was hot on Bella’s trail, looking for his own supper. Grant fed him, too.

      “A previous handler spooked her while hunting. An all-too-common problem with our shelter dogs, I’m afraid.”

      “Do you like working at the rescue facility?”

      “I do. It’s fulfilling to witness so many success stories, you know?” He dropped some food in a bowl for Ruby. “We have it set up where setters are taken into foster homes for a while before they can be adopted. This helps us evaluate their true nature in a home environment. Plus, it gives them the comfort of a home while they wait for a permanent family.”

      “Is that how you found Bella? Did you foster her?”

      “Yep. And once I looked into her big eyes, I was a goner.”

      Much like Kallie. He’d known she was special the moment he saw her.

      Clearing his throat, Grant turned away and locked the dog food back in the cupboard, where it was safe from raccoons who sometimes explored the barn at night.

      Call him soft but he had a love for the setters who needed extra understanding and attention. He’d found that passion while working here at Bitter Creek Farm, and when he’d gotten involved in Iowa training them and running the rescue facility, he’d realized he enjoyed caring for someone other than himself.

      It had awakened an instinct he’d never thought possible.

      The truth ricocheted down through his core as he straightened, letting the dogs eat. Because he feared becoming like his dad, he’d never wanted kids. And when he and Kallie had gotten carried away one night, the reality of marriage and the possibility of fatherhood had hit him hard.

      That night had woken him up, made him believe that he couldn’t be what Kallie deserved.

      But now…

      He glanced at Kallie and her kids, at the life he could have had if only he’d had the courage. All of this could have been his—this simple life, with their own family to come home to rather than an empty apartment. But he’d missed that opportunity, and someone else had taken his place.

      He only had himself to blame.

       Chapter Two

      “Thanks for letting me stick around for supper, Kallie.”

      “No problem.”

      Though honestly, Kallie didn’t feel as nonchalant as her answer indicated. Ever since Grant had arrived, she’d been flooded with guilt. Back when he left, she’d felt justified in keeping the kids a secret. He’d wanted to forget farm life and train dogs. Wasn’t interested in being a dad or a husband. Not to mention the teensy-tiny detail that he’d flat out left her barely a month after proposing.

      She still worried that he wouldn’t care. That he’d shrug the kids off. So, she’d held her tongue through supper preparation and getting the kids into their high chairs. To keep her mind busy, she worked with her hands—grabbed various pots and bowls of food from the counter to bring them to the table.

      Grant watched her from his chair. “Can I help you with anything?”

      “No, I’m almost done.” The tasks didn’t need to be completed any faster than they already were.

      Peter and Ainsley sat in matching high chairs beside her place setting. Cooked mashed peas littered their trays, and thankfully, they ate in pure delight—judging by their screeching and their attempts to share the peas across their trays.

      More landed on the floor between them than anywhere else, which Ruby appreciated.

      The oven timer beeped, so Kallie bent and pulled out the chicken potpie, the center boiling through a cracked edge of crust. She’d used the chicken from her slow cooker, thinking with Grant staying that the meal needed to be heartier than she’d originally planned. She set it in the middle of everything else like a centerpiece at a Thanksgiving feast.

      She finally sat, and Grant said a prayer. And after saying “Amen,” she silently added another prayer for strength and wisdom. In high school and while she dated Grant, she hadn’t been very faithful in her spiritual life. But since the kids were born, and especially in recent months, she’d learned a lot about God’s everlasting goodness. And drawing from the deep well of His love comforted her like nothing else ever had. If anyone could help her know how to handle this situation, it would be Him.

      “All this food for just us?” Grant eyed the smorgasbord. “You know my stomach’s shrank since I stopped working on the farm.”

      A tiny smile tugged on her lips before she stuffed it away. She’d spent some of her nervous energy on cooking, and yep, one look around the table and she knew she’d gone a tad overboard.

      She dished more peas onto her plate to squish with her fork for the kids. “Dig in.”

      Apparently she didn’t need to tell him twice. He took a long swig of his ice water and helped himself to a steaming biscuit to slather with butter and honey.

      “So, I’ve been thinking. Have you thought about hiring a farm hand for the summer?” He spooned potpie onto his plate. “Come July, it’ll be way too hot to cart the kids everywhere for hours on end.”

      Free advice often fell flat, and this was no exception. Kallie didn’t look up from distributing more peas to the kids. “We have air conditioning in the work truck.”

      “That old thing? You can’t rely on it working when the temps hit over one hundred.”

      “We did last year when Dad was sick.”

      “Well, last year you didn’t have a choice. But no kids should ride around the farm in that old beater, not in the middle of summer.”

      She stared at him. “The truck is fine, Grant.”

      “You say that now. Wait until it’s noon, and you break down in the middle of a pasture. It could become a bad situation very fast.”

      “Enough, okay?”

      She gritted her teeth to not say any more. He couldn’t just leave her one day and then waltz back into her life two years later giving orders. She left the table for more milk from the fridge. While she refilled Ainsley’s and Peter’s sippy cups, heavy silence weighed her down. This was going to be even harder than she’d thought.

      “Sorry, Kal.”

      Kallie turned from the counter, sippy cups in hand. “What?”

      He