Ten Mountain Men's Baby (Love by Numbers 9)

When I finished the call with Amy, I leaned back in my seat, gripping the phone to my chest. I was far more nervous than I’d expected. I was even shaking.

“What is it?” said Holly. “What did she say?”

I couldn’t speak at the moment. I simply handed Holly the paper with the phone number written on it.

I didn’t call straight away. Instead, I tried planning out what I was going to say and how. Every option I came up with sounded crazy.

While I was thinking, Holly filled Claire in on my search—our search.

We returned to the same diner we’d eaten at the day prior. We invited Claire, but she said she had to get back to her family. “And,” she added, turning to me with a wink, “you need to get back to yours.”

Before entering the diner, on Holly’s insistence, I made the call.

“Hello, my name’s Ryker Dennison. I got your number from Amy at Angel Clinic here in Franklin.”

“Oh, hi. She mentioned you might be calling. Said you were looking for me but didn’t say why.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s right.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Well”—I let out a long slow breath, my shoulders relaxed, and the tension left my body— “this may sound crazy, but.…”

I told him who I was, a doctor in residence in Massachusetts here in North Carolina as part of the thru-hike. I told him about the waitress at the diner who thought we looked identical.

“And, the strange thing,” I said, “the thing that has me wondering, what’s really odd about this, is that, well, you see.…”

Holly gritted her teeth and punched me on the shoulder. She mouthed “say it” and glared at me with wide, insistent eyes.

“Well, here goes,” I said. “I was born in North Carolina, that I know, or at least nearby in the mountains. but I was adopted, and I don’t know the names of my birth parents. I came here—”

“Oh, my goodness,” he interrupted. “Wait. How old are you? When were you born?”

His voice was excited. He rushed his words, which had me thinking there might be something to this lead.

“I’m twenty-five,” I said. “I celebrate my birthday on May first, but that’s just an estimate. I don’t know my actual birthday.”

“Oh, my goodness. Where are you now?”

“At the Franklin Country Kitchen.”

“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll be there in… an hour? I want to call the others.”

I gulped. The others? This is serious. “Yeah, okay. I can be here. I’m wearing a red sweatshirt with—”

“I think I’ll be able to spot you,” he said.

I laughed nervously. “Of course.”

“See you in an hour.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Holly, who was watching me eagerly for the news.

“He’s coming here. Says he’ll be here in an hour.”

“Wow.” Holly balled her hands into fists and shook them like she was cheering on her favorite sports team.

“He said he’s going to call the others.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Can you believe it!?”

I put my hands up, open palms out. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Could be nothing.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Or it could be something—something huge. In any event, we’ll find out soon enough.”13HollyI’d never been a girl who pushes her luck. It was true I’d been lucky in the past: lucky to have good, caring parents, lucky to have a good job, lucky to have opportunities like this thru-hike fall in my lap. And I’d always been someone who appreciates the luck that comes my way.

A few days ago, I fantasized about some guy I’d never met and then found him in the mountains, naked, lying on a slab of rock by the river. I thought there was an off chance he was the guy I was hoping to run into, but I didn’t ask him his name. I was content with what fell in my lap; I wasn’t going to push my luck.

Then I was lucky enough to have him by my side in a quaint country diner, my hand resting on his knee under the table. I had to grip him tightly to keep his leg from shaking. His nervous energy married with mine, and I was feeling antsy. My hand was on his leg, so close to his crotch. I could slide it up and feel the bulge. No one in the diner would be the wiser. Still, I kept my hand on his knee. I didn’t push my luck; I didn’t ask for more.

Yet there I was, at the quaint country diner, staring across the table at two men, identical twins, who were the spitting image of my Doctor Dreamy beside me.

The two men, Will and Owen, were six years older than Ryker. Yet they had the same distinguishing features—the same chiseled jaw, the same wide, dark eyes set apart from high brows and a slender nose; there were features bold and unhidden which gave the three men the same look of pride and honesty.