Secret Christmas Twins

by Lee Tobin McClain

  And they’d take the babies from her—she was sure of it. Why wouldn’t they? Papa and Jason were kind, loving men who could raise Mikey and Teddy to adulthood. If Kimmie had stayed in touch with her family, she would have known that, and Erica would never have even been in the picture.

  Her heart felt broken into three distinct pieces. Four, actually: one for Mikey, one for Teddy, one for Papa and one for Jason.

  The fun, happy moments they’d spent together played through her mind. How they’d decorated the tree, how Teddy had scooted toward it. The capable way Papa held a baby on his lap like he was born to it. The sleigh ride to church, bells jingling, the twins laughing.

  There wasn’t going to be any more of that for her.

  Unbidden, a memory from childhood spread into her mind. She’d rushed home from school to the motel where they’d been living, excited to have a Christmas gift for her mother. A clay dish, fired in the school kiln. Now, as an adult, she knew it had been a lopsided, ugly thing. And indeed, her mother had laughed when she’d seen it, given Erica a quick pat on the head and gone back to partying with her friends.

  Erica got up, walked over to the Christmas tree and looked at the little lump ornament Jason and Papa had laughed about. In a family like theirs, children’s humble efforts at art were treasured and kept.

  She’d always longed to be in such a family. And she’d had a brief moment there. But now that time was over.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Jason came to the doorway and looked in at her, his expression a perfect storm of hurt and anger and mistrust.

  He spun away. A moment later, the front door slammed.

  It’s over. She sank to her knees and pressed her hands to her mouth. Help me, Lord.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, at dawn, Jason was awakened by a rhythmic scraping sound. He looked around and blinked at the interior of his truck and the pink-and-gold glowing world outside. What was he doing here? And why was he so cold, despite the down coat stretched over him and his big boots and warm socks?

  He turned on the car and cranked up the heat. Slowly, the night before came back to him. The revelation about the twins. The fighting with Erica. Storming out.

  He’d driven aimlessly and then realized it wasn’t so aimless; he was headed to the suburban Pittsburgh home where his family had lived during his elementary school years, after they’d moved back from Arizona. He’d sat in his truck in front of their old house, thinking about his sister, until he’d fallen asleep.

  Now, as the defroster cleared the windows, he looked out to see that the Michaelson place next door was decorated with the same blue icicle lights and big blue-lit deer that the older couple had always argued about: he’d loved them, and she’d thought they were tacky.

  As a kid, Jason had found the blue lights to be much cooler than his family’s plain old white lights, and he’d loved the way the blue deer had raised and lowered their heads. He remembered the year that Kimmie had taken him over to pretend-feed the deer with burned, broken-up Christmas cookies they’d made. He’d been young, first or second grade. Probably, he realized now, she’d thought of the scheme to make him feel better after their cookies had turned out inedible.

  Years later, she’d covered for him, taking the blame herself, when he and his friends had dragged one of the deer over to their bonfire and accidentally burned part of its back leg. He squinted through the dim morning light. Sure enough, one of the deer had a hind leg half the length of the other three.

  How had he and Kimmie gotten so far apart that she’d died alone, not even telling him she’d borne two sons? That she didn’t want him, the little brother who’d idolized her, to get to know her children?

  Tap-tap-tap. He lowered his driver’s-side window to see a bundled-up woman, white hair peeking out from beneath a stocking cap. “You’re going to freeze out here, sir. What’s your business in this neighborhood?”

  The voice was familiar, if a little raspier than when he’d last heard it. “Mrs. Michaelson? I’m Jason Stephanidis. I used to live next door.”

  The old woman cocked her head to one side and studied Jason. “You’re the little kid who once decorated my front bushes with those tinsel icicles?”

  Another memory Jason had forgotten about until just now. “The very same,” he said, turning off the truck, climbing out and shaking her hand. “I’m sorry about that. I’d guess you were picking those things up out of your yard for weeks.”

  Mrs. Michaelson chuckled, leaning on her snow shovel. “That we were, but we didn’t mind. We always enjoyed the kids in the neighborhood, since we didn’t have any of our own.”

  “I see you’re still putting up the blue lights,” Jason said, gesturing to the Michelsons’ house.

  “Sure do, every year, and sometimes I leave ’em on all night. The mister has been gone these past eight years, but it doesn’t seem like Christmas otherwise.”

  So Mr. Michaelson had passed away. And Mrs. Michaelson, although she looked spry enough, had to be well up into her eighties. She’d seemed ancient even when Jason was a kid.

  “Can I help you shovel your driveway?”

  “No need. I just do the walkways, and they’re done. I don’t drive anymore.” She sighed and gestured at her thick glasses. “Vision problems. I turned in my license before they could take it away from me.”

  “Sensible decision.” He looked around the neighborhood. “I have good memories of living here.”

  “You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” she said. “If you’d like to come in, I could fix you some breakfast, as well.”

  There was the tiniest undertone of eagerness in the old woman’s voice. “I would appreciate that,” he said, and followed Mrs. Michaelson inside.

  After breakfast and promises to stay in touch, Jason drove back to the farm. He felt ashamed of having left Papa alone to deal with Erica and the twins, but when he arrived, Erica’s car was gone and the house was quiet. He had a moment of panic. “Papa?”

  “Up here,” his grandfather called.

  Papa was putting on a Christmas sweater-vest that had to be as old as Jason was, his hair wet from a recent shower, his face freshly shaved.

  “Where are Erica and the twins?”

  “She took ’em to the Santa Claus breakfast at the church.”

  After the bomb that had exploded here last night, she’d gone to a Santa Claus breakfast? “You let her go? What if she abducts them?”

  Papa waved a hand. “If she were going to abduct them, she’d have done it already. She’d never have come here at all.” He leaned closer to the mirror to straighten his bow tie. “She said she’d promised to help with the breakfast, and she didn’t want to let Mrs. Habler and the ladies’ crew down.”

  “Oh.” Jason stepped next door to her room. The bed was neatly made, but all her and the twins things were still there. A weight seemed to lift off his chest, even though he thought he wanted her to leave, to get out of their lives.

  “Where are you going?” he asked his grandfather.

  “Christmas Eve ham delivery,” Papa explained. “Remember? The Men’s Group has been doing it since I don’t know when.”

  Jason did remember, how Papa went to a Christmas Eve luncheon with other men, out at some restaurant, and then did a surprise ham delivery to some of the poorer members of the congregation.

  He didn’t want to ask, but the words burst out of him. “How was Erica?”

  Papa shook his head, pressing his lips together. “We didn’t talk much. She was broken up, though. Red eyes. Kept apologizing.” He eyed Jason. “I don’t know what to think or do about this whole situation, except to make sure those babies are cared for and loved.”

  “What’s she going to do?”

  Papa picked up a comb and ran it through his hair. “I d
oubt if she’s gotten that far in her thinking.”

  “I just can’t understand what she did. Kimmie, either.”

  “Some things don’t make a whole lot of logical sense.” Papa put on his dress shoes and checked himself in the mirror again. “Tell you what you need to do, though. Get a shower. Get yourself cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”

  Jason gave Papa a half smile he didn’t feel inside. “Sure. Will do.”

  As he left Papa’s bedroom, he heard a car approach and a door slam. His heart leaped. He hurried to his bedroom window to look out.

  It was only Papa’s ride.

  Jason didn’t want to see Erica, anyway.

  After he’d showered and put on clean clothes, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Erica and the twins hadn’t come back yet, not that he was waiting for them. Once again, he got into his truck.

  As he started to turn out of the farm’s long driveway, a brown delivery truck appeared and stopped in front of the drive, brakes squeaking. When Jason saw that the driver was a high school acquaintance, he waved.

  “Got a package for you and your grandfather,” Elmer called, hopping down and carrying a two-foot square box to the truck’s window. “Want me to throw it in the back of your truck, or should I take it up to the house?”

  “Throw it in the back. Thanks.”

  “Merry Christmas!” Elmer waved and the brown truck chugged off.

  Jason stopped at the hospital to check on the young couple who’d given birth in the cabin. He found them in good health, just waiting for the doctor to release them. He admired their new son and envied the loving smiles on their faces. Exhibit A that you didn’t need material things to be happy.

  Since it seemed they had no idea where they’d go once they left the hospital, Jason found the hospital’s social worker and made an anonymous donation for a month’s rent for them.

  But it didn’t make him feel a bit better.

  Aimless, he drove around and finally ended up at the mall two towns over, thinking to pick up a little something more for Papa. He wandered until he found a bookstore and picked up a copy of Papa’s favorite author’s new hardcover spy novel. The thought of Papa’s reaction—“I could have gotten this at the library for free”—gave Jason a minute’s pleasure. Secretly, Papa would be glad he didn’t have to join the long waiting list to get the book.

  He looked at his watch and realized he’d killed only half an hour. Package in hand, Jason sat down on a bench.

  Repetitive Christmas music played, audible over the sounds of people’s voices, some irritable but most happy and excited. People crowded through the mall and into the stores, and he heard snippets of conversation.

  From a man in a wheelchair, talking to the young nurse pushing him: “Figures my disability check would be late this month. But I know, I know, I should stop complaining and be grateful I can still get something for the grandkids.”

  From one frazzled-looking young mom to another: “Did you see the Dino Dasher is finally on sale?”

  From a pretty teenage girl: “If I get Aunt Helen an extra large, she’ll be insulted, but if I get her anything smaller it won’t fit.”

  Families. None of them having perfect Christmases, but the holiday spirit shone through the complaints and the crowding.

  The smell of candied nuts tickled his nose, and he looked around, spotting the source in a kiosk in the middle of the mall. His mother had always loved those nuts. He should call her.

  He turned away from the crowds and covered one ear and put in the call, but there was no answer. Either she was out or maybe all the circuits were overloaded, it being Christmastime. Did wireless circuits get overloaded?

  He strolled over to the kiosk and bought a paper cone of candied nuts, then wandered through the mall, nibbling them.

  “There’s the most handsome detective in Holly Springs.” The voice behind him was merry and loud, and he turned to see Ruth, as always with a baby in her arms. “Doing some last-minute shopping, are ya?”

  He held up his bag. “You, too?”

  “Sure am. Do you know the Glenns from church?” She introduced him to a bedraggled-looking man who didn’t smell any too good and his much younger, stressed-out-looking wife. Then she held up the baby for him to see. “And this is little Maria. We’re out doing some shopping for her. Gotta make her Christmas bright!”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, and watched the small group head into a baby store. He could guess who’d be footing the bill there. Ruth was widowed, and she wasn’t wealthy herself, but she had a generous heart. She must have taken it upon herself to play Santa for the Glenn family.

  On his way out to his truck he spotted Chuck and Jeannine, walking arm in arm through the parking lot. He was happy they were back together, but he didn’t want to intrude on their holiday.

  But Chuck called out a greeting. “Jason! Come hear our good news!”

  Standing in the cold parking lot, they explained that they’d decided to keep all the baby furniture because they were planning to adopt.

  “I finally figured out it doesn’t matter how kids come into a family,” Chuck said. “I was on some kind of male ego trip, wanting my descendants to be my own blood.”

  “But he finally realized that was ridiculous.” Jeannine squeezed her husband’s arm. “What’s important is how much love is there.”

  How much love is there. Jason wasn’t feeling any excess of love, himself. He had Papa, of course, but even Papa had plans today, long-standing friends in the community. Everyone in Holly Springs, single or married, seemed to be rooted and connected. Everyone except him.

  Maybe he ought to think about staying here, settling down. The pace of life, the way people cared for each other, was starting to appeal to him. Maybe, like Papa and Ruth, he could build a life here even though he was single.

  He drove by the Mistletoe Display and, on impulse, turned in. Twilight was gathering, and he figured he might see a cheerful crowd. He didn’t feel like being alone.

  But as he drove up to the gates and parked in an almost-empty lot, the display’s lights clicked off. A worker came out and hung a sign. “Sorry, buddy, we’re closing down.”

  “No problem. Merry Christmas.” Jason waited until the guy had gone back in to lock up the office and then read the sign. “Closing early so our workers can spend Christmas Eve and Day with their families.”

  Jason wandered along the fence, looking into the now-dark display. In the rapidly deepening twilight, he spotted the bench where he and Erica had shared their first kiss.

  The emotions from that evening washed over him, and this time, he didn’t even try to push them away.

  He’d cared so much for Erica. He could admit it to himself now: he’d fallen in love with her.

  But in the end, she’d betrayed him. Just like Kimmie had, and Renea, and even his own mother.

  A nagging, honest voice inside his head said: Who’s the common element here?

  I know. It’s me! I make bad choices!

  Honesty compelled him to push further. Was it really just about choices?

  Renea had been his own bad choice. But he hadn’t chosen his mother or Kimmie. They’d been his family, and while his mother had definitely been the one to distance herself from her children, he’d followed up on that by judging Kimmie, pushing her away.

  It was a decision he regretted, and would regret his whole life.

  Erica had come into his life as a result of that decision; in all probability, she’d have never been involved with Kimmie if he had taken the proper responsibility for his sister.

  Or maybe not; Kimmie had been her own person, and she might have still chosen to run away.

  God works all things to good.

  Even bad things, like Kimmie’s death, God had worked to good by bringing him,
Erica and the twins together.

  Except that, last night, he’d judged Erica harshly, yelled at her, pushed her away. Just like he’d done with Kimmie.

  But she lied to me! He banged back into his truck and drove too fast to the diner. That empty feeling inside him was hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything since Mrs. Michaelson’s breakfast and a few of those candied nuts.

  He had a moment’s fear that the diner would be closed, too, but it was brightly lit. When he pushed the door open, bells jingled and steamy warmth hit him, along with the homey scent of turkey and stuffing.

  He’d have Christmas Eve dinner here and then go to church services. He’d done holidays alone plenty of times, back in Philly. And there were other solo diners here, too.

  Hank came out to take his order, dressed in a Christmas apron atop his black slacks and shirt. “Where’s your friend?” he asked.

  “What friend? I have a lot of ’em.” Which wasn’t true, at least not here.

  Hank lifted his hands like stop signs and took a step back. “Whoa, I meant the cute redhead. But I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. What can I get for you? Coffee first?”

  Just to prove he wasn’t pathetic, Jason ordered the full Christmas Eve platter—turkey, stuffing, potatoes and vegetables. “Give me pie, too.”

  But when the food came, he could barely stuff down a quarter of it.

  He sat back and waited for the check and thought about the day. Thoughts about Kimmie, and then about Erica, edged their way into his mind and wouldn’t leave.

  He’d gotten so rigid lately, judged people harshly. Partly it came with the police work, but he knew himself well enough to understand that he was trying to keep control.

  He’d condemned Kimmie harshly when he’d learned she was using. He’d gotten all strict and judgmental, and that had pushed her away.

  Would he do the same to Erica?

  But how could he forgive what she’d done to him and Papa?