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Murray and Maxie were bounding around the yard herding Charlie. Archie was on his feet, keeping an eye on all of it. Charlie was great with the dogs, but they were still a little too enthusiastic sometimes. Right now, though, they seemed to be behaving well. Murray would lay down and patiently lick Charlie each time Charlie toddled over to him to pet him.
Charlie thought it was all hilarious.
“Come and eat,” Frankie was saying and Charlie pivoted at the sound of her voice.
“Mama!” He was already racing as fast as his little legs could carry him. I had to smother a chuckle. Maxie and Murray were hurrying over to her too. Everything revolved around Frankie and it was the best orbit I’d ever been in.
She scooped Charlie up, then gave him a raspberry of a kiss to his cheek. His laughter was so open and happy.
“Pop!” Charlie was already flinging himself at Coop.
“I wish I had half of his enthusiasm,” Archie said as he joined me.
“We used to,” I said, smirking. “For Frankie, we still do.”
“You have a point,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder once. “Good man. Big sandwiches to eat.”
“Roast beef?”
It was one of Frankie’s favorites. Jeremy made sure all cold cuts had been heated before he prepared anything for her. The possibility of bacteria was bad for pregnant women, so he took no chances once we figured out she was pregnant.
“Yep.” He led the way over to the table where Frankie was cleaning Charlie’s hands. I used one of the hot, wet towels that Jeremy had brought out to clean mine. Good habits.
Then Coop buckled Charlie into his seat between him and Frankie. Archie beat me to the other side of Frankie. His smirk amused me, but I just pulled out the chair opposite her. At least I got the best view.
Conversation was on hiatus while we sorted out food and drinks. We had iced tea courtesy of Jeremy. It had a flowery taste so probably one of the herbals. Frankie had developed a taste for them when she was pregnant with Charlie and Rachel sent her a crate of every herbal tea on the planet.
Or at least that was what it felt like.
Still, it made Frankie smile. While I wasn’t banned from real coffee, I’d enjoy the flowery tea with her.
“So,” Coop said as I took a bite of my sandwich. “Twins?”
Their message had included a photo of the ultrasound.
“Twins,” Archie said and his eyes alternated from wild to determined to delighted and back to wild again. That seesaw was going to get a hell of a workout. “Doc Patterson said we needed to take notice of any significant changes and that starting with the third trimester, Frankie will have to see her more often.”
Frankie washed down her bite of sandwich with a long drink. “So far, I feel fine. I’ve been tired, but it’s grant season, Ian and I are working on tour stuff, and the kids just went back to school. Tired would seem fairly normal.”
“Well, maybe we revisit the schedule a little?” I suggested. “You work from here a lot which is convenient, but that also means Charlie and he doesn’t nap as often as he should.”
Charlie paused mid bite with a handful of fruit gripped in his fingers. “No naps. Not tiwed.”
“Of course not,” Frankie told him, her voice automatically soothing. “Naps are for after lunch.”
“No nap,” Charlie said firmly then threw the fruit at her. Frankie actually caught the apple slice.
“Mine now.” Then she ate it. Charlie’s outrage damn near killed me because I couldn’t laugh at the way his mouth opened in an “O.” “Next time,” she told him. “Don’t throw your food.”
“How about you don’t throw anything,” Coop said, his tone firming into what had to be, the ultimate Dad voice. Of all of us to get it, Coop had nailed it from day one. Archie was mashing his lips together to keep from laughing. “We don’t throw things at Mama. Ever.”
Lower lip jutting out and trembling, Charlie looked from Coop to Frankie. “Sowwy, Mama.”
“Apology accepted,” she told him, then kissed his fingers. “But it’s still my fruit.”
Not laughing was incredibly tough. “Anyway,” I said in something of a strained voice while fighting to keep my humor contained. “We can look for different ways to give you an extra hour or two each day whether you n-a-p…” Yes, we spelled out conversations. Sometimes you just had to. “Or sit and read. You know, some quality Frankie time. Might ease some of the stress and the tired for you.”
She tilted her head from side to side as if weighing her options. “Maybe, but let’s see how it goes. She said the third trimester would likely be the toughest. But I will pay attention to any and all symptoms that I might have. That includes the tired and maybe an extra hour a day is not a bad thing when we’re home.”
