She clenched her jaw. She was going to get rid of that mattress and clean this place to a shine. The twins wouldn’t grow up as she had. She’d make sure the lock was sturdy and that the window got fixed. As a kid, she hadn’t had a choice, but now she did. She would do better for her boys.
She climbed down the ladder. Now that she wasn’t moving, she was getting cold, and she noticed Jason stamping his feet. Their breath made steam clouds in the cabin air, which she would’ve thought was cool if she’d been in a better mood.
“Look, Erica, I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I should have realized you weren’t one to do drugs.”
“I’ve never used in my life,” she told him. “You don’t make the same mistakes your parents made, though you might make different ones.”
“You could be right about that.” He rubbed his hands together. “But look, I’m sorry I was deceptive. That wasn’t right.”
His choice of words brought her to attention. Yes, Jason had been deceptive and it had made her angry. But his deception paled in comparison with the one she was trying to pull off, the fact that the twins were Kimmie’s.
Certainly, her own deception was bigger. But she didn’t know what he’d done to make Kimmie so mistrustful, only that he was rigid and judgmental, seeing everything in black-and-white. A perfectionist with a mean streak.
Not a person to raise kids.
Moreover, if Jason were sneaky and suspicious enough to attempt to trap her into revealing an addiction, he’d certainly be able to discover the truth about the twins, once his suspicions started to move in that direction.
And that couldn’t happen, because he’d take the twins away. Kimmie hadn’t wanted that. She’d wanted Erica to raise them.
Erica wanted that, too. They belonged to her and she loved them. In her heart, which was what mattered, she was their mother.
All the more reason to move out of Jason and Papa’s house immediately.
“I can start cleaning the place tomorrow,” she said, “and if you’ll give me the information, I can make calls about the water and heat today. The twins and I can move in within a few days.”
“You can’t live here!” Jason lifted his hands, obviously exasperated. “How are you going to manage the twins when there’s a ladder to get to the bedroom? Are you going to leave one up there while you carry the other down? There’s no railing. It’s dangerous.”
“I can make it work,” she said, feeling uneasy. He did have a point.
“And there’s water, sure, but no washing machine or dryer.” He shook his head. “It’s the kind of place someone totally down-and-out would live in, not a mother and kids. In fact, no doubt we’d have some drug squatters here if Papa didn’t keep such a close eye on it.”
His objections were valid, but... “I’m sure we can figure out something.”
“You run the risk of Children and Youth stepping in. These are bad conditions.”
And you’d like nothing better. You’d probably call them on me yourself.
“Look, the property is half yours, once the will goes through probate. If it’s because you’re angry at me, I can stay out here and you stay in the house.” He frowned. “I’d only ask that you let Papa stay in the house with you. He shouldn’t be climbing the ladder.”
“Of course!” She’d never kick an old man out of his home. “No, you and your grandfather need to stay at the big house. I’m the interloper. I’ll move out here.”
He shook his head. “No, Erica. Listen, I...I’m rotten at friends and family. Anyone will tell you. I apologize for treating you badly. It’s nothing about you. It’s me.”
He looked forlorn and bitter all at the same time. She steeled herself against the temptation to feel sorry for him.
“I really don’t think you can get the place cleaned up yourself, but if you want to try, I’ll help you.”
Now, that would be a disaster. Working closely with the man who’d tricked her, but whom she still, to her chagrin, found attractive. The man she was starting to feel sorry for, at least a little. The man who looked so good in his lumberjack flannel and boots.
“I should get back to the twins,” she said. And she needed to figure out whether living in the cabin was really viable. And most of all, she needed to figure out how to keep Jason and his grandfather at a distance—both so they didn’t hurt her anymore, and so they didn’t figure out the truth.
Chapter Four
By the time they got back to the main house, clouds had covered over the midday sun. And Jason had a feeling that, once they went inside, any chance of a private conversation would be avoided or lost.
The need to know about his sister’s last days and why she’d bequeathed half the farm to Erica overpowered his politeness. If he was going to be a jerk, he’d really be a jerk. “We need to find a time to talk about Kimmie.”
“You don’t quit, do you?” She skirted him to walk ahead in the snow.
All of a sudden she stopped, looking toward the house.
Since the skies had darkened, the front room was illuminated like a theater. Papa stood there alone, holding some small object in his hand. As they watched, he put it down and picked up something else.
“What’s he doing?” she asked.
“Those are my grandmother’s crèches,” he said, and the lump in his own throat wouldn’t let him say any more.
What would it be like to have a relationship as close as his grandparents’ had been?
He opened the front door, and Mistletoe barked excitedly. Between the dog and the noise Jason made taking off his boots and helping Erica with her coat, he hoped Papa had the chance to pull himself together.
But when Papa came to the doorway of the front room, he had to clear his throat and blow his nose. “The twins are upstairs napping,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Ruth fed ’em some lunch and put them down, and she says they’re out like lights. She had to take off.”
Erica touched Papa’s arm. “I’m curious about your decorations,” she said. “After I check on the twins, will you show them to me?”
Maybe it was cowardly, but Jason couldn’t cope with looking through the family treasures and dredging up a bunch of memories. “I’ll make lunch,” he said.
In the kitchen, he soon had tomato soup heating and cheese sandwiches grilling in plenty of butter. Comfort food. Even if he wasn’t good at sharing feelings with his grandfather, he was a decent short-order cook.
He started to check and see what everyone wanted to drink, but stopped on the threshold of the front room.
Papa was pointing to the star atop the tree, one of Gran’s prize possessions, and pulling out his bandanna to wipe his eyes.
And rather than backing away, Erica put an arm around him. “Do you have any photos of her?”
Was she crazy? Or was she trying to butter Papa up, to get something out of him the way she’d gotten something out of Kimmie?
Papa nodded, his face lighting up. “Would you like to see our family albums?”
Jason beat a hasty retreat. If Erica could get outside of herself enough to comfort an old man to whom she owed nothing, then he was impressed. But was anyone really that nice? Most likely, she had some selfish motive. Most people did.
Once he had the plates on the table, he couldn’t delay any longer. Still, when he walked into the front room to see Erica and Papa sitting on the couch side by side, the gray head and the red one bent over an old photo album, he had to swallow hard to get his voice into cheerful mode. “Lunch is ready,” he said with only a little hitch.
Funny, the twins didn’t have red hair. They must take after their father. Erica hadn’t mentioned one word about the man, and from her reaction to being asked about Kimmie, she probably wouldn’t welcome Jason opening the discussion.
As they ate their lunch, Erica
kept the conversation going with questions about Gran, which led to talk of Jason’s and Kimmie’s childhoods.
“Our daughter was a bust as a mother,” Papa admitted, his spoonful of tomato soup halfway to his mouth. “She had her reasons. I’m glad we could step in.”
“I heard about that, some,” Erica said. “Kimmie spent a lot of time talking about her mom.”
She did? Jason got up, ostensibly to get some extra napkins, but really to cover his own surprise. How much had Kimmie told Erica? What else did she know? If Kimmie had aired their mother’s dirty laundry, it spoke to Erica’s ability to get close to people and find out their secrets.
Papa obviously didn’t have the same suspicions. “I just wish...” he said, and then broke off.
“What do you wish?” Erica asked.
“I just wish it had worked out better for Kimmie.” He put down his spoon and shook his head, staring off out the window.
Enough of taking Papa down their family’s unhappy memory lane. It was time to learn something about Erica. “You said your mom had issues, too. Did you have grandparents to step into the gap for your mother?”
“Estranged,” she said. “So Christmas can be sort of sad for me, too.” She looked from Jason back to Papa. “Did you know there’s a movement called Blue Christmas for people who are mourning at Christmastime?”
“What won’t they think of next?” Papa waved a dismissive hand. “People are oversensitive these days.”
“Or maybe more in touch with their feelings?” She softened her disagreement with a smile. “I think it’s a good idea. Pretending you’re having a Currier and Ives Christmas when you’re not can make you even more depressed.”
Papa chuckled. “Got your own opinions, do you?” He took a big bite of grilled cheese.
“Yes, and sometimes I’m even right.”
As they talked on, Jason took note of the fact that Erica had neatly evaded his effort to probe into her background. He tucked that bit of knowledge away.
Against his will, though, he got caught up in Erica’s description of the special church services they’d had back in Arizona for people who had a hard time dealing with the holidays. He wanted, in the worst way, to ask whether Kimmie had attended any such services. Had his sister been sad, missed the family during the holidays? Had she maintained the strong values she’d had as a younger woman, the faith they’d shared with Papa and Gran?
Guilt washed over him. Why had he let Kimmie become alienated from the rest of the family? Why hadn’t he tried harder to find her and mend their differences?
He studied the woman talking with animation to Papa. No, she hadn’t been Kimmie’s drug friend. And yes, he was starting to care for her more and more.
But he still had questions. Okay, Erica had been lonely, had needed a surrogate sister in light of her own mother’s absence. But what had Erica done for Kimmie in return that she’d gone so far as to leave her half the farm?
* * *
Later that afternoon, Erica got the twins strapped into their car seats and tried to back out of the space her little car had occupied since they’d arrived at Holly Creek Farm three days ago.
In the icy tracks, her wheels spun.
After a couple more attempts, she stopped and looked up “how to drive in snow” on her phone.
Go forward and back, get traction. She could do that. She put the car into Drive.
The wheels spun.
She clenched her jaw. She didn’t even really want to attend the charitable clothing giveaway, but when she’d seen the flyer, she’d forced herself to copy the information in her planner, because the twins needed warm clothes. Now, to have this kind of obstacle getting there... She switched into Reverse and floored it.
The wheels made a loud spinning noise.
The car didn’t move.
Teddy started to cry.
Why would anyone want to live in this snowy, obstinate state, when the blue skies and warm air and green palms of Arizona were just a few days’ drive away?
A knock on her window made her jump. Jason. Great. She put the car into Park and lowered the window.
“Having problems?”
She clenched her jaw. “Obviously.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m going to town,” she said over Teddy’s wails, “if I can get unstuck.”
He squatted and studied her front tire, then stood. “Tires are almost bald,” he said, “and this is a lightweight car. Why don’t you let me drive you in my truck?”
“No!” The refusal was reflexive, automatic. Help usually came with strings. That, she’d learned at her mother’s knee.
“I was planning to go in anyway. Give me five minutes to grab my things and pull the truck around.”
“I don’t need any help.” Even though the evidence was blatantly to the contrary.
“My truck has a back seat. It’s going to be a lot safer for the twins.”
The one convincing argument. “Fine,” she said, and then realized she sounded completely rude and ungrateful. “I mean, thank you. I would appreciate that.”
Five minutes later, as they drove down a snowy, twisty, evergreen-lined road, she looked over at him. “Thank you for doing this. You’re right. It wouldn’t have been safe in my car.”
Which meant she needed to get a new car, or new tires at least. Add that to the lengthening shopping list in her head.
“No problem. Where are we headed?”
“The church.” Heat rose in her face, but she forced herself to continue, staring straight ahead. “They’re having a clothing giveaway.”
“Oh.” He steered around a sharp curve and then asked, “So money’s a problem right now?”
“Yeah.”
“What were you doing for work, prior to coming here?”
Her stomach tightened. Not because of the probing—he’d earned that right, driving her to town—but because of what he might find out.
She hated lying, always had. But she didn’t want to put the detective in Jason on high alert, and she couldn’t dodge the feeling that any talk of the past might do that. “I worked as an aide in a nursing home.” Which was true. “And I was taking classes at the community college.”
“Studying what?” If he’d sounded skeptical, she would have cut him off, but he actually sounded interested, like he believed her.
“Human Services. It could lead to Social Work or Early Childhood Education, if I went on for a bachelor’s degree.” She looked at him quickly. A few acquaintances had laughed about someone of her background going to college. If Jason did...
“Makes sense. What all had you taken?”
Relieved, she shrugged. “College Writing. Intro to Psychology. I was actually in a class called Introduction to Gerontology when...when Kimmie got sick.” She clenched her teeth. Stop talking.
“No wonder you get along well with Papa.”
Good, he was going to let the past—her past—go. “I like old people,” she said. “Old people and kids.” She opened her mouth to say that it was the people in the middle who caused most of the problems in the world, but she snapped it shut again. The less information she volunteered, the better.
“So you were out of a home and you went to stay with Kimmie?” he asked abruptly. “Did she take care of your kids while you worked?” An undertone of censure ran beneath his words.
“It wasn’t like that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Think, think.
“What was it like?”
She had to give him some information, the bare bones at least, or he’d never leave her alone. “She was too sick to care for herself. I left my apartment empty to live with her and care for her.” And her babies. Which of course, she couldn’t say.
“If she was too sick to care for
herself...how’d you manage the babies and the job and the schooling?”
She blew out a sigh. “My class was online, and I finished it.” She was still proud of that accomplishment. “My job... I didn’t have the time off, so...”
“So you lost it?”
“Yeah.” She’d actually given notice and quit, but to someone like Jason, the difference wouldn’t signify.
He was pulling into the church parking lot, and he didn’t respond. She glanced over at him, expecting contempt, but instead he just looked thoughtful.
Inside, the church basement was crowded with people of all ages looking through tables full of clothing, toys and small gifts. Large signs explained the rules: one item from each table, as needed.
The stale smell of used clothes and unwashed people brought back memories. A girl of ten or eleven flipped through a rack of girls’ clothing, her face tense.
Erica’s gut twisted with sympathy.
She’d been that girl, desperate to find used clothes that didn’t look used. Once, she remembered, she’d been excited to find a beautiful shirt with lace around the neckline and sleeves. She’d worn it to school, proudly, only to be found out by the rich girl who’d donated it.
She’s poor. Look, she’s wearing my old shirt.
She’s poor.
She’s poor.
“Let me hold one of the boys so you can see what you’re doing.” Jason held out his arms, and when Teddy reached for him, Erica let him go, swallowing hard.
She was reduced to charity, for now, but it wasn’t what she wanted for the twins. She wasn’t going to make a practice of this. She would get a job. Right here in this area, because thanks to Kimmie’s bequest, she had a rent-free place to stay. She’d find a way to manage a job and child care.
Her kids were not coming to events like this once they were old enough to understand what it meant.
“Aw, are they twins?” A woman about Erica’s age, but much better dressed, came over and ran a long, polished fingernail down Mikey’s cheek, tickling his chin. “Such cute boys! Let me see if I can get permission for you to take two things from the tables.”
Secret Christmas Twins Page 6
