Page 12 of Captiva Café

Christopher looked momentarily stunned. "Twins? As in, two babies? Simultaneously?"

"That's generally what twins means, yes," Beth said dryly.

"Did you know a woman carrying twins produces seventy percent more blood volume instead of the usual fifty?" Gabriel added, clearly having absorbed every factoid he could find. "And twin pregnancies account for only about three percent of all pregnancies in the United States."

"Gabriel's been reading medical websites again," Beth explained, rolling her eyes fondly. "He can now recite twin statistics in his sleep."

"Are they identical?" Sarah asked.

"Too early to tell for sure," Beth replied. "But there are two distinct amniotic sacs, so they might be fraternal."

"And they're both healthy?" Maggie asked, her voice betraying her maternal concern.

Beth nodded, her expression softening. "Perfect development for ten weeks. Two little blips on the screen with strong heartbeats."

"I recorded the heartbeats," Gabriel added proudly. "I'm playing them through speakers in the orchard every morning. Beth thinks I'm crazy, but I swear the apple trees are responding to it."

"That's because they recognize crazy when they hear it," Beth teased, but her hand found Gabriel's, their fingers intertwining with obvious affection.

"Twins," Christopher echoed, shaking his head. "Better you than me. One nearly broke me."

Lauren teased. "How's fatherhood treating you, Chris?"

Christopher's expression was a perfect blend of exhaustion and wonder. "I haven't slept more than three consecutive hours in weeks, I have mysterious stains on every shirt I own, and yesterday I found myself singing 'The Wheels on the Bus' in the shower. Alone."

"Where's Becca?" Sarah asked, adjusting her camera as Noah wandered into the background of her frame, headphones on and oblivious to the call.

"Hospital shift," Christopher explained. "I'm solo parenting until midnight."

"How's that going?" Beth asked.

Christopher's face turned serious. "I faced down insurgents in Iraq, but nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared me for a diaper blowout during a grocery store run."

The siblings erupted in laughter, causing Christopher’s newborn, Eloise to squirm. Christopher immediately began a gentle bouncing motion that seemed automatic, already perfected through desperate practice.

"Oh, tell them about calling Michael," Sarah prompted, grinning mischievously.

Michael groaned. "Yeah, you’ll love this one."

Christopher's tired face broke into a smile. "So there I was, third day alone with Eloise. Becca had explicitly written out instructions for everything—feeding, bathing, the whole nine yards. But she forgot to specify what to do when the baby manages to get poop not just up her back, but somehow in her ear."

"Her ear?" Beth looked horrified and fascinated simultaneously.

"Don't ask me how. Physics doesn't apply to infant bodily functions," Christopher said gravely. "So naturally, I panicked and called the only person I knew would answer at 3 AM."

"Which was me, because I was up working on case files," Michael interjected. "And I was on my third straight night of prep for a major investigation."

"Details." Christopher waved dismissively. "The important thing is that I needed brotherly advice, and what did my dear brother do? He listened to approximately thirty seconds of my poop catastrophe, said—and I quote—'Figure it out, soldier,' and hung up on me."

The siblings dissolved into laughter again. Even Michael was grinning.

"In my defense," Michael said, "he'd already called five times that week about various baby emergencies, including one at midnight because he couldn't remember if the formula was supposed to be room temperature or warmed."

"It matters!" Christopher protested.

"Does it though?" Michael countered. "Because Eloise looks pretty happy to me."

The baby in question was now sleeping peacefully against Christopher's chest, completely unaware of being the subject of debate.

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