The SEAL's Christmas Twins

by Laura Marie Altom

  Inside, she set the snacks on the entry-hall table, then removed her coat and boots. The place was dark as a tomb.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  When no one answered, she found the kitchen empty. She opened the door leading to the garage to find her dad’s truck gone. Hattie’s old room, which her mom now used as a craft room, was also empty. Melissa’s room remained much as it had when she’d left to marry Mason. Even back then, Hattie had known she was second best in her parents’ eyes and hearts.

  The last place Hattie checked for her mom was the master bedroom. She found Akna curled onto her side, eyes wide-open, staring into the darkness. “Mom? Are you all right?”

  “What do you think?”

  Hattie sat gingerly on the side of the bed. “It was sunny today. Still not quite dark. Wanna watch the sunset? It might make you feel better.”

  “Don’t even try pretending you’re innocent.”

  “Wh-what?” The anger behind her mother’s statement stung.

  “Sophie told me about your plans to carry on as usual for Halloween. The whole town’s talking about your abhorrent, downright scandalous behavior. Don’t think Sophie didn’t tell me everything you and Mason did down at the store.”

  “Good grief, all we did was pick up a few Halloween items for the girls.”

  “Didn’t sound so simple to me. I remember your sister’s letter—the way she made it seem like she was playing matchmaker. I know there’s more to it, and now you’re cozying up to Mason like he’s your boyfriend, but he’ll always belong to your sister. I’ll bet you’re loving that big, old house of hers, too, huh? And her new car? Melissa had everything you ever wanted, and now that she’s dead, pretty as you please, tied up with a neat bow, you’ve had her whole life handed to you on a platter.”

  The horror of her mother’s words caused Hattie to raise her hands to her mouth.

  “You should be ashamed.” Akna sat up in the bed. “You’re an abomination—stepping into your sister’s shoes like that.”

  “I—I don’t even know you....” Trembling head to toe, Hattie backed out of the room. She had to get away before she said something she regretted.

  “Run!” her mother shouted. “You should run straight to church! Pray for the sin of wishing your sister dead!”

  Hattie ran, all right, but in the direction of sanity.

  Straight toward Mason, who, at the moment, felt as though he was one of her only friends.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Hattie had just finished washing the breakfast dishes when her cell rang.

  The babies had long since been fed and were lounging in their playpen. It hadn’t escaped Hattie’s attention that the girls cried and slept more than they ever had in their mother’s care, so times like these, when they seemed content, she especially cherished.

  Mason sat at the bar, drinking coffee and reading the paper. “Who’s that?”

  Hattie frowned. “Mom. I’m sure she’s doing better.”

  On a line filled with static, Akna said, “Did you go to church like I asked?”

  “Stop this. You’ve already lost one daughter. Do you really want to lose another?”

  Sobs filled the line.

  Part panicked, part incensed, part unsure how to be the adult when the woman she’d looked up to her whole life was obviously falling apart, Hattie said, “Mom, I think you should have Dad take you to the clinic. You’re not acting rational.”

  “You’re the one who—”

  Unable to bear a moment more of her mother’s ranting, Hattie pressed the disconnect button on her phone. “Think it’s too early for a beer?”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” He put down the paper.

  “Aside from my mother having gone so far off the deep end, she’s on the verge of discovering a new continent, there’s the issue of how much I despise living in this fishbowl of a small town.”

  “What happened?”

  “Apparently, Clem opened her big mouth about the bar sponsoring our usual festival booth. Sophie had already given Mom an earful about our shocking behavior at Shamrock’s and now it seems everyone’s gossiping about what a disrespectful sister I am. A-and now my mother seems to think that I’m a little too happy about stepping right into Melissa’s life. Apparently, the only possible chance I have for changing my evil ways is through plenty of prayer.” Using a paper towel, Hattie blotted tears that lately never seemed to stop. “H-how could she say that to me? H-how could she be so cruel?”

  “Come here....” Mason stood and held out his arms for her to step into. She did, and honestly, his strong embrace felt akin to that first delicious sensation of sinking into a hot bubble bath. Though her emotions were still all over the map, physically, she was content. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it. That was her grief talking,” he murmured.

  “St-still...” she sobbed against his chest, grateful for his strength when she had none.

  “Shh...” He stroked her hair, flooding her with warmth and well-being. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Will it? Because judging by how good Hattie felt standing there in her sister’s ex-husband’s arms, she couldn’t help but fear at least part of her mother’s accusations may be true.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S THE MATTER with them?” An hour later, fresh from the shower, still embarrassed at having yet again emotionally bared herself to Mason, Hattie entered the nursery to find baby bedlam.

  From where he sat on the floor, holding the two girls, he shrugged. “I found this lullaby CD I thought they might like, but within the first couple minutes of it playing, they both flipped out. Think Melissa played it a lot? And they’re wondering why she’s not here?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.” Hattie turned off the haunting music she’d heard her sister sing to the girls, then joined the trio on the floor. She took Vivian from Mason, holding her close, rocking her back and forth. “I’m sorry, little one. I know you miss your mom and dad.”

  She looked up to find Mason hugging and patting Vanessa.

  Having recently been the recipient of his strong, reassuring hold, Hattie knew his brand of comfort to be effective.

  In a few minutes, both girls had calmed. The silence was a relief. “That was intense.”

  “No kidding. Makes me wonder—how many other memory bombs are around here, just waiting to go off?”

  Fingers to her throbbing forehead, she rubbed.

  “Anything I can do for you? It’s been kind of a crappy morning.”

  “You think?” Her half laugh didn’t begin to cover how much she still hurt from her mother’s call. Witnessing her nieces’ grief only compounded Hattie’s troubles.

  “Come on. What can I do to make all three of my girls smile?”

  His girls? She met his perilously handsome gaze, warning herself not to read anything other than friendly concern into his statement. It didn’t matter that lately, the man had become her lifeline. Not only was he leaving in a week, but just like the perfect house and beautiful babies, he didn’t belong to her. Would never belong to her.

  “Hit me,” he teased. “There’s gotta be something selfish you’ve been craving.”

  She tilted her head back and smiled. “All right, if we were in an idyllic, happy universe, I think I would very much enjoy a pedicure and brownies.”

  “Done and done.”

  “Really?” She arched her right eyebrow. “And just how do you propose to make that happen?”

  “First...” He set Vanessa on the carpet before standing, then scooping her back up. “We’re going to traipse down to that ridiculous home theater and pop in a sappy chick flick.”

  “I’d rather watch an action-adventure.”

  “Or that...” He kissed the crown of Vanessa’s downy head. What did i
t mean that Hattie craved another of his kisses so badly for herself that she could practically feel the one her niece received? “Then I’m going to make that brownie mix I stashed in the grocery cart when you weren’t looking...”

  Hattie frowned, but not too hard.

  “And while the brownies are baking, I’m going to paint your gorgeous toes.”

  “What in the world would you know about nail polish?”

  He sobered. “I may be a bit rusty, but when my mom was sick, she always asked me to paint her nails Candy Apple Red. It made me proud to be able to make her smile.” Outside, the day was cloudy, but even in the nursery’s dim light, Mason’s eyes shone. “Will you let me do the same for you?”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded.

  Then she wished for the power to not only forget their lone kiss, but to stop craving another.

  Chapter Nine

  To say Mason felt horrible for what poor Hattie was going through would be the understatement of the century. They’d lived together for nearly two weeks, and in that time, he felt as if he’d had a front-row seat to watching her world crumble.

  For as long as he could remember, she’d been his little buddy. His pal. But lately? He’d felt the stirrings of something more. Not only the desire to see where another kiss might lead, but a fierce protective streak was emerging regarding her and the girls. Yet as much as one part of him couldn’t wait to return to base, another part dreaded leaving Hattie and the twins on their own.

  The morning of Wharf-o-Ween, while his dad and Fern watched the girls, Mason hauled the heavy plywood pieces to Hattie’s carnival-style booth from the bar’s dusty attic. Thankfully, their latest snow had melted and the sunny day already boasted temperatures in the balmy forties.

  While Hattie wiped dust from everything with a damp cloth, Mason used his shirt sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow. Only he wasn’t sweating from exertion, but the excellent view of her derriere and thong teaser visible every time she knelt to scrub a board. “You owe me big-time. I would hardly call this the quick job you described.”

  “If I’d told the truth, would you have still offered to help?” The grin she cast over her shoulder tugged at his heartstrings. Lord, she’d grown into a fine-looking woman.

  He couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve got me there. What’s next?”

  “Help me get these pieces clean, and then we get to start assembling.”

  “Swell...” After three hours of torturing himself by keeping his hands off Hattie and busy with power tools, they’d constructed an Old West–styled ringtoss game, with plenty of fun toys and candy they’d purchased at Shamrock’s for kids to win as prizes.

  Hands on her sexy-full hips, she stood back to survey their work. “Looks pretty good.”

  “And who do you have to thank?”

  “You.” She ambushed him with a hug, then stepped back as if checking herself. Part of him wished she hadn’t. She smelled good. Like fabric softener and the strawberries she’d sliced for their breakfast. Being with her not only felt comfortable, but exciting—like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane for a stealth night mission. Hattie still held all of the qualities he’d enjoyed about her while growing up, but this new, adult version of her was even better. She had an edge to her. That kiss ignited a curiosity that left him wondering what might happen—not that anything needed to happen. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  “Aw, shucks, ma’am...” He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat. “It were my pleasure.”

  “Layin’ it on a little thick, cowboy?”

  “Probably so, but considering the looks the good Lord failed to give me, I have to rely on purdy words to impress the ladies.”

  That earned him a playful swat. “Fish for compliments much?”

  He just smiled, realizing he liked the rise in his pulse that their playful banter had created. Only, considering he practically had one foot on the plane that would fly him from town, was that really a good thing?

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, as Hattie manned the game booth with Mason, Princess Vivian took one look at a kid dressed like a werewolf and that was all it took for her to break into a wail.

  Vanessa, on the other hand, stared up from her perch in the crook of Mason’s right arm with wide-eyed wonder.

  “Want to take this one,” he asked, offering Hattie Vanessa, “while I get Viv calmed down?”

  “Thanks.” She watched with awe as all it took to calm her niece was Mason’s magic touch. He sang, but with a local rock band playing and children laughing, she couldn’t make out his words, only that the sentiment was apparently sweet enough for Vivian to find comfort nestling into the crook of his neck.

  By feeding time, when the girls had grown cranky again, Mason handled that situation, too, by carting both girls off to the peace and quiet to be found in her old apartment.

  After a thirty-minute crush of ghosts and vampires and even a pint-size Britney Spears, Hattie finally got a breather, only to have her dad wander up to the booth.

  “Looks good,” he said with a faint smile.

  “Thanks. The bar was too busy for any of the guys or Clementine to help out, so Mason did most of the work.”

  “Where’s he now?”

  “He’s got the twins upstairs for a quick bottle and diaper change.”

  Her dad’s expression read confused. “Why aren’t you handling that?”

  “Honestly? He’s better at it. The girls adore him.”

  Scowling, he shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding toward the plastic pumpkin she’d set out with Melissa and Alec’s wedding picture attached, along with a sign asking for donations to Conifer Search and Rescue, who’d so valiantly tried to save her sister. “That’s nice.”

  “I figure every little bit helps.”

  He nodded.

  “How’s Mom?”

  “Still in bed. Hope the doctor won’t give her any more sedatives. She’s not in her right mind.”

  Hattie wasn’t sure how to respond. The pain of her mother’s accusation was still too fresh.

  “I heard about what she said to you. Didn’t like it.” He took a few seconds to stare at her sister’s photo. “You have to know it’s her grief that has her talking crazy. She’ll come around.”

  Wiping tears from her cheeks, Hattie nodded.

  “Everyone’s smiling again.” Mason stepped around the booth’s corner, holding both bundled-up infants in his arms. “Oh—hey, Lyle.”

  “Mason.”

  The two men seemed wary of each other. Hattie remembered a time when her father had considered Mason his son.

  “How’s Akna?”

  Not one to easily share his emotions, her father said, “She’ll pull through.”

  “Gotta be tough.” Mason settled the twins into their stroller.

  For Hattie, the tension between the only two men who’d ever meant anything to her was becoming unbearable. Hoping to smooth things over, she suggested, “How about you and Mom come for dinner on Sunday?”

  Mason hovered behind her, and as Hattie awaited her father’s answer to her impromptu invitation, she appreciated her friend’s silent support.

  “It’s awfully nice of you to ask,” Lyle said, “but I don’t think your mom’s up to it. Soon, though. We’ll get together real soon.”

  “Sorry,” Mason said after her dad left as quietly as he’d arrived.

  “It’s okay,” she said, even though nothing could be further from the truth. More than anything, she longed to turn around and lose herself in the strength of one of Mason’s hugs, but what would that do except prove Hattie was the despicable person her mom and Sophie and apparently the whole rest of the town believed her to be.

  * * *

  “TURN RIGHT BACK AROUND,” Clementine sa
id to Hattie when she arrived for her usual Saturday night shift. “I told you I’ve got you covered for tonight so you can come to my party.”

  Hattie made a face. “I’m not really in the mood to play quarters or beer pong.”

  Clementine waved off her concerns. “This is a grown-up party. I’m planning for Pictionary and dancing in the living and dining room and Halloween I, II and III on TV.”

  “What?” Hattie feigned shock. “No Friday the 13th?”

  “Think that would be better?” She reached for an olive.

  “What have I told you about eating the bar garnishes? And for the record, I’m messing with you. Sounds like a good time.”

  “Then you and Mason are coming?”

  Hattie set her purse behind the bar. “Not sure if you’re up on current events, but my sister just died. I shouldn’t even be talking about going to a party.”

  “What was Wharf-o-Ween?”

  “That was different.” She poured herself a Coke. “I wanted the girls to hear laughter again. Plus, my donation pumpkin raised over four hundred dollars for search and rescue.”

  “Oh—so it’s all right for the girls to laugh, but not you?”

  “They don’t know any better. But it’s been suggested I do.”

  “By who?” Clementine crossed her arms.

  “Lately, I feel like everyone. You know Mason and I had that run-in with Sophie, and now my mom has totally lost it—not that I blame her. I’m upset about my sister, too, but—”

  “Wait. What else happened with your mom?”

  Hattie relayed her mother’s most recent call.

  “Ouch.” Clementine winced. “I’m sorry she went off on you, but you can’t internalize her grief. Everyone has to deal with this in their own way. Melissa didn’t give you the luxury of crawling into bed for a month. Yes, mourn your sister, but her girls also need you to celebrate her.”

  * * *

  THE WHOLE RIDE HOME, Clementine’s words refused to leave Hattie’s head. Was she taking her mother’s grief too personally? To be fair, having no children of her own, Hattie couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of her mother’s pain. Yes, Hattie was sad, but no comparison to what her mother—or Alec’s—must be going through.