“Sure you are, Mommy,” Melissa said. “Mack Marshall doesn’t have a family, and found out we’re here, and we’re his family now, and he’s not all alone anymore, and we’ll talk to him ’bout dumb stuff like what we want to be when we grow up, then I’ll go play catch with Buzzy.”
Heather laughed and shook her head. “That’s fine, Melissa. I guess that about covers it.”
“Poor Mack,” Emma said, sighing dramatically. “He’s been all alone with no one to talk to for years and years and years. Lots of years, because he’s old, right? Really old. You said he’s even older than you, Mom. All alone. Poor Mack.”
Again an image of Mack took front row center in Heather’s mind and an unexpected and very annoying frisson of heat slithered down her back.
“Mack hasn’t been all alone, Emma,” Heather said. Not a chance. He probably had to carry a big stick to beat off the women who flocked around him. Mack Marshall would be alone only when he chose to be. “I’m sure he has a lot of friends in New York City. In fact, he probably knows people all over the world because he travels a great deal to take photographs.”
“That’s sure an easy job,” Melissa said. “Just take pictures of people. Maybe you should do that, Mom, ’stead of being a ’countant. Then you wouldn’t have to work so hard. Can I have another cookie?”
“No, ma’am,” Heather said. “That’s enough of a snack for after school. I want you to eat a good dinner.”
“’Kay,” Melissa said. “Well, I’m done with my milk and cookies. When is Mack going to get here?”
Heather glanced at the clock on the wall. “Any minute now. I have a feeling he’s going to be right on time.”
Mack drove slowly down the street, frowning as he swept his gaze over the small houses that were separated by very narrow driveways.
This neighborhood was even worse than he’d suspected when he’d seen it in the dark last night. Granted, the dozen homes on this dead-end street gave evidence of caring, of making the best of what was available.
But, cripe, these houses were old and so damn small. The only saving grace was the tall mulberry tree in every front yard. But the ancient trees actually made the houses appear even smaller.
He’d driven through some very rundown areas to get here, had seen teenagers hanging out on the corners, many wearing what he had a feeling were gang colors. This entire section of Tucson was crime waiting to happen.
How could Heather sleep at night, knowing she was raising her daughters in such a dangerous location? What kind of a mother would—
Hold it, Marshall. That had been a lousy thing to mentally insinuate about Heather. He was positive that Heather lived here with her girls because this was the best she could afford.
That made sense. The records he’d uncovered about Frank listed his half brother’s occupation as a gas station attendant. Not a certified mechanic, just a guy who pumped gas, he guessed. That wouldn’t have left any kind of estate to his pregnant widow.
He also knew from his hours on the Internet that Frank Marshall had been killed in an automobile accident driving while drunk. His investigative skills had turned up a copy of the police report. Some more delving had provided the information that the twins had been born about six months later.
Heather Marshall deserved a lot of credit for what she’d done on her own. She’d been young, pregnant, and faced with raising two babies alone. He’d found records of the classes she’d taken for many years, finally obtaining her license as a certified public accountant.
She worked at home, apparently, to be there for her daughters. That meant she had no group medical insurance, no retirement plan, no benefits at all that came from being employed by a large firm.
Hand to mouth, Mack thought, parking in front of Heather’s house. That was how this little family was living. He didn’t like that. He sure as hell didn’t.
Mack retrieved his parcels from the passenger seat, locked the Blazer he’d rented, then started slowly up the front walk leading to the house. The walkway was cracked in places and several chunks of cement were totally missing.
The minuscule yard was free of weeds, but was more dirt than grass, and a bald tire hung by a rope from a limb on the mulberry tree. The house itself was a rather strange shade of color…not white, not yellow, just dingy gray with no contrasting color on the trim. The roof was a multitude of shades, obviously patched many times over the years with whatever was available.
On the porch, Mack noted the empty hole in the plastic faceplate where the doorbell should have been, and rapped on the door.
He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and realized to his self-disgust that he was nervous. He, Mack Marshall, who had braved a multitude of dangerous war zones around the globe, was actually shaking in his shorts about the prospect of attempting to carry on a conversation with a mother and her two young daughters. Ridiculous, but annoyingly true.
“Get a grip,” he muttered, then waited for the door to open.
“He’s here,” Melissa said, jumping off her chair. “I’ll answer the door.”
“No, I want to,” Emma said, leaving the table and running after her sister.
“Wait,” Heather said, getting to her feet. “Oh, never mind.”
She was nervous, she thought, as she trailed after the girls. She’d had a difficult time concentrating on her work while the twins were in school, had glanced at the clock so often she’d felt like one of those bobbing toys that people put on the dashboards of their cars. Ridiculous.
As Heather heard a chorus of, “Hi. Come in,” she smoothed the waistband of her bright red string sweater over her jeans-clad hips and produced what she hoped was a believable smile.
“Hello, Mack,” she said as he stepped into the living room.
Oh, gracious, she thought, Mack was even better looking today than he had been last night. How was that possible? But Mack Marshall in black slacks and a navy-blue knit shirt was a sight to behold.
Her heart was beating too fast. What was wrong with her heart? Why was it doing that? Forget it. Just forget it. She had to act like a mature adult, a mother, for heaven’s sake.
“I’d like you to meet my daughters.” She placed one hand on Emma’s shoulder. “This is Emma.” The other hand plopped onto Melissa’s head. “And this is Melissa. Girls, this is Mack Marshall. Your…your uncle. Yes, that’s what you can call him…Uncle Mack.”
“Hi,” the pair said in unison.
“Hi,” Mack said, staring at them.
They were identical twins, he thought incredulously. They both had short, curly black hair, big dark eyes, the very same features and—he’d never been face-to-face with identical twins before.
They were wearing different clothes, thank goodness, which would help him to keep them straight. Emma was wearing a flowered dress and Melissa was decked out in jeans and a baseball jersey that was a bit too big for her.
“I brought you a little something.” Mack handed Heather a bouquet of spring flowers, then gave each of the girls an enormous cellophane-wrapped, rainbow-colored sucker.
“Wow,” Melissa said. “I’ve never seen a sucker this big. This is so cool. Can I eat it now, Mom?”
“I’m going to save mine forever,” Emma said. “It’s so pretty. I’ve never had such a big, beautiful sucker.”
“What do you say?” Heather said.
“Thank you,” the twins chorused.
“And I thank you for the lovely flowers, Mack,” Heather said, not looking directly at him. “Please, have a seat while I put these in water. And, Melissa, no, you can’t have any candy now. We’ll decide after dinner how much of it you can eat at one time. I’ll be right back.”
Heather hurried from the room. Once safely in the kitchen and out of view, she buried her face in the lovely flowers and inhaled their sweet aroma.
Oh, darn, she thought frantically, she could feel the sting of tears. She had to get a grip, regain control of her emotions now. Right now. It was just that she had
never, not once in her entire life, been given flowers by a man. She felt like Emma…she wanted to keep them forever.
Heather opened a cupboard, remembered that she didn’t own a vase, then proceeded to half fill an empty pickle jar with water and arrange the flowers. She returned to the living room and placed the makeshift vase on the coffee table.
Mack was sitting on the sofa with a twin on each side of him, each holding their sucker and staring up at him.
He looked about as comfortable as a man waiting to have a root canal, Heather thought, curbing a smile as she seated herself in the rocker. She had the distinct impression that Mack’s experience with children was zip.
“So,” Heather said, “are you enjoying our weather, Mack? March is a lovely month here, and April will be even nicer.” Good grief, was this the best she could do? Talk about the weather? But her experience in-conversing with a worldly man such as Mack was most definitely zip. “I’ve told the girls that you’re a famous photographer.”
“Well, yes, I do take pictures of…of things,” he said, glancing at Melissa, then Emma. “Lots and lots of photographs.”
“Where’s your camera?” Melissa said.
“It’s locked in my vehicle out front,” Mack said. “I never go anywhere without it, it seems. Would you like me to take your picture?”
“No,” Melissa said.
“Oh,” he said, then cleared his throat.
“Do you have a house?” Emma said.
“A house? No, I have an apartment that I rent in New York City. I’m not there too much of the time, though, because I travel a great deal taking photographs.”
“Oh-h-h,” Emma said, nodding. “We rent our house, too, but we have a dream piggy. Maybe if you got a real job, instead of just playing with a camera and stuff, you could get a dream piggy, too, and get a house.”
“Emma,” Heather said quickly, “being a photojournalist is a real job, a very difficult one, in fact. Mack has won a great many awards with his photographs.”
“But Uncle Mack doesn’t have enough money to buy a house, Mommy,” Emma said. “He needs a dream piggy.”
“What’s a dream piggy, Emma?” Mack asked.
“Well.” Emma set the sucker very carefully next to her on the sofa, then folded her hands in her lap. “You see, when you want something more than anything else in the whole wide world…that’s your dream. Me and Melissa and my mommy want to have our very own house, buy it, not rent it and everything, and fix it up real nice, and have enough bedrooms for everyone to have their very own, and we save all our pennies and stuff in our dream piggy, ’cause someday we’re going to have our dream. Our house. Get it?”
Mack nodded slowly. “Got it.”
“So!” Emma continued. “You could get a house, too, but you gotta have a dream piggy first so you have a place to put your pennies.”
“I’ll certainly give that some serious thought,” Mack said. “I appreciate your telling me about a dream piggy, Emma. I didn’t know such a thing existed.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You didn’t? Wow. Well, now you know, so that’s okay.”
“Not everyone has the same dream, Emma,” Heather said. “Maybe Mack doesn’t want to own a house.”
“Buzzy doesn’t care if he has a house,” Melissa said. “His dream is to be the bestest baseball player in the whole wide world.”
“What’s your dream, Uncle Mack?” Emma said, gazing up at him.
“I, um, well, Emma, I…” Mack stopped speaking and sent a pleading look at Heather, who just smiled at him pleasantly. “I guess I don’t have a dream.”
Emma’s little hands flew to her cheeks. “You don’t? Oh, that’s terrible. That’s really, really terrible. My mommy says that dreams are ’portant, ’cause they’re magic, and they help you work harder and never give up no matter what, and…and stuff. Right, Mommy?”
“That’s right, Emma,” Heather said, smiling at her warmly.
Emma reached over and patted Mack on the knee, causing him to jerk in surprise.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, “we’ll help you find a dream for yourself. Okay? We will. I promise. So don’t be sad that you don’t have a dream right now, ’cause we’re going to fix that. If it’s the kind of dream that needs pennies, we’ll need to get you a dream piggy, too.” She patted Mack’s knee again. “Just don’t be sad. Okay?”
A strange warmth along with a foreign achiness in his throat suffused Mack as he looked at Emma and saw the sincere concern on her little face. He nodded, not certain he was capable of speaking at that moment.
A loud knock sounded at the front door and again Mack jerked in surprise.
“Buzzy,” Heather, Melissa and Emma said in unison.
“Can I go play ball now, Mommy?” Melissa said. “Please?”
“Yes, you may,” Heather said. “You know the rules. You stay in our front yard, or Buzzy’s.”
“’Kay.” Melissa slid off the sofa, placed her sucker on the coffee table next to the pickle jar holding the flowers, then ran to the front door, flinging it open. “Hi, Buzzy. I’ll get my mitt. Guess what? We got a new uncle, who didn’t know we were here, but now he does, and he brought me the biggest sucker that was ever made.”
“Cool,” a voice said. “Can I have a lick of your sucker?”
“Maybe. I’ll be right back.”
Melissa ran across the room, down the hall, then returned moments later with an obviously very worn baseball mitt.
“Melissa,” Heather said as the little girl zoomed past her. “Say goodbye to Uncle Mack.”
“’Bye,” Melissa said, then left the house, yanking the door closed behind her.
Emma wiggled off the sofa and picked up her sucker. “I’m going to put this in a special safe place in my part of the bedroom, Mom. I’m keeping it forever, you know.”
Heather glanced quickly at the flowers. “Yes, Emma, I know.”
“’Bye, Uncle Mack,” Emma said. “Don’t forget now. We’re gonna help you find your dream.”
“I won’t forget,” Mack said, smiling at her. “And I thank you for that, Emma, I really do.”
“No-o-o-o problem,” Emma said, then left the room, cradling the sucker in her arms as though it were a baby doll. Mack took a deep breath and let it out slowly, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head.
“I’m exhausted,” he said, chuckling. “That was the most amazing conversation I’ve ever taken part in in my entire life.” He paused. “Heather, your daughters are wonderful, absolutely fantastic.”
“Thank you,” she said, dipping her head slightly. “I rather like them myself.”
“But how do you keep up with them? I mean, their minds never stop, and they’re so honest and real, just tell it like it is. They’re completely different, aren’t they? Even though they’re identical twins their personalities are like day and night.”
“Oh, yes,” Heather said, laughing. “Emma is very ladylike and tries to be so prim and proper all the time, and Melissa is my tomboy. They do keep me on my toes. I love them so much, Mack. I simply can’t imagine my life without them.”
“Mmm,” Mack said, nodding. “It would seem that I’m to have assistance in getting a dream for myself.”
“Well, be forewarned that Emma won’t forget about that. Once she gets something in her mind, it’s there to stay until she deals with it.” Heather frowned. “You really don’t have any hopes and dreams?”
“Until today,” Mack said, “I never thought about it. But, well, no, I guess I don’t.”
“Just humor Emma for a while on the subject,” Heather said. “We place a great deal of emphasis on our dream to have our own home. I realize now that Emma and Melissa assume that everyone has, or should have, a dream, too, but I have to admit that I agree with that philosophy.”
“Why?”
“Because a dream gives you a purpose, a goal, a whimsical sense of a magical time yet to come. A dream provides hope when you’re trying to survive, just mak
e it day to day.”
Heather sighed. “Never mind, Mack. I’m not certain you can understand all this, because your lifestyle is so very different from ours. If you want something, I imagine you can go out and buy it as the mood strikes.”
“Well…”
“Please don’t think I’m doing an oh-poor-us routine here, because I’m not. It’s just that we’re from such different worlds that I’m not certain we can connect on any level. That wouldn’t be your fault, nor mine, it would just be the way things are. You’re welcome to visit us, if you choose, while you’re on vacation here in Tucson, but I don’t expect we’ll find a common ground while you’re in town.”
“Oh, that’s not true, Heather,” Mack said, looking directly at her. “We’ve already connected on a couple of things.”
“Such as?”
“Your daughters have staked a claim on my heart that feels great. It really does. I may grow old before my time just trying to keep up with them during a conversation, but I like them very, very much.”
“Well, that’s one,” Heather said, smiling. “You said a couple of things.”
Mack nodded. “It’s come to light that I don’t have a dream, and this—” he swept his right arm through the air “—is the place where I’m going to get the help I need to find one.”
Chapter Three
The next afternoon Buzzy’s mother, Susie Jenkins, and Heather were in a used-clothing store, sifting through the jumble of merchandise on a large table. Melissa, Emma and Buzzy were playing in the corner of the shop, building a tower from wooden blocks.
Heather held up a T-shirt with a smiling Garfield on the front. “Melissa.” The next item she found was a pink top boasting a cute gray kitten with a white bow around its neck. “Emma.”
“Buzzy,” Susie said, showing Heather a shirt with a multicolored dinosaur.
“We’re on a roll,” Heather said, laughing. “The last time we were in here we came up empty.”
“Keep digging through the goodies,” Susie said, “but don’t stop with the story. What you haven’t told me is whether or not you like this Mack Marshall who showed up on your doorstep.”
Single with Twins Page 3
