Mistletoe Twins Page 3

  She knew him too well. Mac took a moment to admire the glossy sheen of her golden hair, left free for once so it could cascade past her shoulders in a tumble of curls that was neither messy nor unkempt. No matter what she was doing, Adele always looked perfectly put together.

  “I’m not the same person I was when we left high school, Delly,” he warned softly.

  “Who is?” she shot back. “Life’s changed you as much as it’s changed me. But at heart we’re the same people God created.” Her bright amber eyes shone. She looked and sounded so confident in her faith.

  Why wasn’t he?

  “’S’cuse me.” The little girl, Francie, stood in the doorway. But neither she nor her brother behind her looked happy.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  The little girl launched herself into Adele’s arms. “I don’t wanna stay here, Delly,” she wailed.

  Though slightly chagrined that his special moniker for his bestie had been usurped by these two mini-heartbreakers, Mac’s annoyance quickly metamorphosed into a rush of compassion as the girl wept as though her heart would break. He choked up just witnessing her misery.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Adele swung Francie onto her knee and wrapped her other arm around Franklyn. “You tell me, Franklyn,” she prodded when Francie couldn’t stop sobbing.

  “Those aunties said we hafta have different rooms.” A hint of anger underlay Franklyn’s glowering expression. “Francie don’t want to.”

  Adele lifted her head and shrugged at Mac helplessly. The shimmering glow of mother love in her beautiful eyes made him gulp.

  “Where do you want to sleep, Francie?” she asked.

  “Me an’ Franklyn like sharin’.” Francie sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “When the bad dreams c-come—” And there she went again, bawling her heart out. Mac felt utterly helpless, and he hated it.

  “Sweetheart, did the aunties say you had to have two rooms?” Adele gently smoothed away Francie’s tears, smiling when the child shook her head. “Then you’re crying because you think they’ll make you?”

  “I guess.” Francie sniffed, then frowned when Tillie and Margaret appeared, slightly out of breath. “Won’t they?”

  “Of course not. Why didn’t you tell them what you wanted?” Adele asked gently.

  “We’re not s’posed to make a fuss.” Franklyn’s grave tone made Mac blink. Adele was alert, too. He could tell she was fighting off her annoyance because her back suddenly straightened as it always had when they were in school and someone had irritated her.

  “It’s not a fuss to say if you don’t want to do something, Franklyn,” he intervened to give Adele a moment to regroup. “Otherwise, how will people know what you want?”

  “But the lady at that office where we go said we gotta— Ow!” Franklyn rubbed his arm and glared at Francie. “She pinched me.”

  “She’s going to apologize,” Adele promised with a reproving glance at Francie. “But first I need to say something to both of you and I want you to listen very carefully.”

  Mac had to stifle a chuckle at the uh-oh look filling Francie’s face.

  “This is The Haven. It isn’t like other places you’ve stayed before. It’s different.” Adele had to see their skepticism because Mac sure did.

  He was also very aware of Tillie and Margaret standing in the doorway, worried and probably praying for the two waifs. But Delly was right. The Haven was like no other place on earth.

  “Here you may ask for whatever you need. You won’t ever get in trouble for asking. You may not always get what you ask for, but we can’t help you if you don’t ask.” Adele continued, gently but firmly, “And you don’t have to be afraid here. We love you both and we’re all going to do everything we can to make sure you’re happy. Okay?”

  Franklyn nodded but it seemed Francie wasn’t quite convinced.

  “C’n Franklyn an’ me sleep in the same room an’ c’n it be blue, light not dark, an’ c’n we have lotsa toys ’n’ everything?” she asked in a rush.

  “Hmm, let’s see.” Adele’s face glowed as she glanced at Mac. “Yes, yes, yes and maybe. Okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” Clearly shocked, Francie stared at Franklyn as if to ask if he believed it.

  “Good. An apology?” She waited, one eyebrow arched as the little girl asked her brother’s forgiveness and, receiving it, hugged him. “Now, do you have any other questions, or should we get our things from the car and begin unpacking?” Adele noted Francie’s grin at her brother. “What’s that look about?”

  “C’n me ’n’ Franklyn have some candy?” the little girl asked, eyes sparkling with fun.

  “Not before supper.” Adele rolled her eyes at Mac. “Always a test. Jackets on, children. Let’s get busy. But first—”

  She didn’t have to admonish twice. Francie walked over to the aunties and smiled.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I din’t know. Thanks for lettin’ us stay here.”

  “Child, you’re very welcome.” Tears welled in Tillie’s eyes as she brushed her hand against Francie’s blond pigtails. “Such pretty hair, just like our Adele’s.”

  “Two more children in the house. How lovely.” Margaret clasped her hands together as she thought it through. “We have a pretty blue room with two beds and a wonderful window seat made just for stories. Will that do?”

  The children nodded eagerly. Tillie couldn’t seem to help smoothing Franklyn’s curly hair, to no avail, in Mac’s opinion.

  “See how easy that was?” Adele chided the children. “Come on now. Time to get busy.”

  Jackets on, they hurried out the door, but Mac hung back.

  “Dear boy, I do hope you’ll be dropping by frequently now that both you and Adele are home,” Tillie enthused.

  Immediately enveloped in a cloud of scent Delly had once informed him was the aunts’ favorite lemon verbena, Mac felt like he had come home.

  “Thank you. Have you been skiing, Tillie? I’m envious of your tan.” Other than the tan, the identical twin sisters were almost impossible to tell apart.

  “Everyone’s envious, dear. Especially Margaret, though she won’t try a bottled tan. I love it.” Tillie’s face saddened. “I’m so sorry about you and your copilot’s injuries. We’ve been praying for you both.”

  “Er—thank you.” He gulped. He hadn’t responded to their letters. So how did the aunts know about Dave? And what else did they know? Did they know Mac had caused his buddy’s wounds? Did they know he’d never told the truth about the crash?

  “If there’s any way we can help, dear, you have only to ask,” Margaret said, patting his shoulder.

  “Well—” He exhaled. “I would like to speak to the two of you privately at your convenience. I need some advice.”

  “We’d be pleased to help.” Margaret smiled. “Shall we text you with a suitable time?”

  “Thank you.” Mac blinked. The two of them texted. Why was he surprised? No one could call the Spenser sisters old-fashioned. “That would be great.”

  “Fine. Now, sister, we’d better help our family move in.” Tillie chuckled. “Oh, I love the sound of that word. Family. Want to help?” she asked Mac brightly.

  “Of course.” Mac held their coats, then ushered them outside, ensuring they carried only the lightest of items. He’d made his third trip in when the grandfather clock in the hall chimed. He froze.

  “Something wrong?” Adele, arms loaded with boxes, stopped short.

  “The time. I told Mom I’d only be gone ten minutes and it’s been over an hour.” Mac set down his load. “Sorry, but I have to get home. See you later everyone.”

  “Come for a meal anytime,” Adele offered as she walked him to his truck.

  “Like I’d miss an opportunity to eat your cooking,” he scoffed. “Not a chance, Delly.” He lowered his voice. “I’m just
wondering, is Francie and Franklyn’s stay here unlimited? There’s no chance they’ll be removed?”

  Mac could have kicked himself when a little voice piped up, “Me an’ Franklyn are stayin’ with Delly forever.”

  Francie stood behind him, blond pigtails reminding Mac of a very determined Adele when she’d first arrived at The Haven with her three foster sisters.

  “Good,” he said, with a smile, wishing he’d made sure his questions couldn’t be overheard.

  “Delly said we might get ’dopted. That means get a fam’ly,” she explained. She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Maybe Delly will ’dopt you, too, Mr. Mac.”

  Wondering if he looked like he needed Adele to care for him and oddly attracted by the thought, Mac chose his words carefully.

  “Call me Mac, okay? No Mister.” He smiled at them. “It was very nice to meet you, Francie, and you, Franklyn,” he added when the boy appeared beside his sister. “I’ll see you soon. You, too, Delly. Bye.”

  He returned Adele’s wave but remained still, listening as she reassured the two orphaned kids.

  “Mac has his own family, honey.” Adele’s sweet voice made even Mac feel better.

  “Oh.” Francie sounded deflated.

  “So, he’s not gonna be the daddy in our fam’ly?” Franklyn sounded disappointed. “When will we be one?”

  “We’re already a family, darling, because we’re together,” Adele assured him. “It’s going to take some time before the judge officially tells us that we can stay together, and things might not go exactly the way we want, so you’ll have to be patient.” That was Delly, always telling the truth, painful or not.

  Mac watched the kids’ faces fall in disappointment and half wished Adele had shelved her insistence on honesty for a while, at least until the children had settled in to The Haven. He also half wished he’d told her the whole truth about his accident. Because it wasn’t going to get any easier.

  “But we don’t have to worry about when we’ll officially be a family because God will work that out.” With a last wave at him Adele shepherded the two now-quiet children and their teddy bears inside.

  The back door closed, but for a moment Mac couldn’t move.

  God would work it out?

  He’d stopped praying a while ago, right after the crash. Maybe it was coming back to The Haven, maybe it was hearing the love in Delly’s voice as she comforted those two orphans, or maybe it was their rapt attention to whatever she said. Whatever the reason, a prayer slipped out of him.

  “Please, God, help those kids and Adele get their dream of family.”

  What about your dream, Mac? What do you want?

  Right now, Mac’s only dream was to see his good friend Adele happy. He didn’t have a plan for his future. Hopefully Tillie and Margaret would have some advice about that because Dad couldn’t keep running the Double M. If Mac was going to take over, it had to be soon. And if he wasn’t, he owed it to his parents to help sell the place so they could retire.

  But if he didn’t ranch, what would he do?

  Mac drove home with the same question rolling through his brain that had been there from the moment he’d awakened after the accident.

  What’s next, God?

  Chapter Three

  “Anyone who just served that incredible Thanksgiving dinner to more than fifteen people should not look like you do.” Three days later, on Monday evening, Mac shook his head at Adele’s flawless beauty, then returned his attention to drying the roaster.

  “What’s wrong with how I look?” From the corner of his eye he saw her pat her chic upswept curls. Then she tugged on his arm and demanded, “Mac?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with how you look. That’s the problem.” He chuckled at her confusion, amused by the way she stretched to make herself taller than her actual five foot six. She’d always complained about his eight-inch height advantage.

  “Are you laughing at me?” she demanded, brow furrowed.

  “I’m amazed at you. After feeding half of Chokecherry Hollow, that dress you’re wearing is still immaculate, your eyes sparkle like a fresh batch of your aunt Tillie’s Christmas toffee and your cheeks glow like Margaret’s Nanjing cherry jelly. You look so good it’s scary, Adele.”

  “Well, I had to make a concession and take off my heels,” she explained. “And I did wear an apron for most of the day, but I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

  “That’s how I meant it.” He ogled the pumpkin pie, felt his stomach protest and shook his head. Today was Monday. Surely Thanksgiving leftovers would still be here tomorrow. He’d better wait. Adele noticed when he patted his midriff and chuckled.

  “Aw, don’t you feel well, Mac?” Her pseudo look of concern was spoiled by her smirk. “Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten all three kinds of pie?”

  “This body is a machine,” he said proudly, thrusting out his chin. “Burns off calories like a well-oiled engine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Adele had long ago mastered using mere facial expressions to get her point across, and so Mac couldn’t help laughing at her mocking mime. But he choked at her next question. “What were you whispering to Francie during dinner?”

  “She, uh, asked me if she could tell me about the car accident.” Mac focused on drying the last pot as another surge of sympathy for the orphaned children welled inside.

  “You’d have a problem with listening?” Adele stretched to place each pan just so on the hanging rack.

  “No, but—” Mac frowned. “The kid wants to talk to me about the day her parents died. She should talk to a psychologist.”

  “Both of them already did that. I’m guessing Francie needs to talk more, to you.” Adele studied him with a glint of curiosity. “You two seem to have a bond developing. I’m sure Francie would far rather speak to you than a stranger.”

  “Yes, but what do I know?” Panic filled him. “I might say the wrong thing and hurt her. That’s the last thing—”

  “Mac.” Adele laid her hand on his arm, her voice very gentle. “It’s not what you say. It’s listening to her. Let Francie vent. Comfort her if she needs it. You know how to do that.”

  “Because of my accident, you mean?”

  “Because you’re an expert when it comes to comforting people. I should know. You helped me through some really rough times when we were kids, especially when I first came here.” Her faith in him was appealing. “You can do that for Francie, too. She already trusts you. Otherwise why would she have asked you to listen?”

  Mac appreciated Adele’s assurances, but he had no confidence in himself. He felt broken down, used, a mess up with no prospects for the future. He especially didn’t feel good about trying to fill in for Carter, who’d dreamed of putting his own mark on the Double M. Stepping into his dead brother’s shoes could hardly be what the chaplain espoused as God’s plan for Mac’s life.

  “I wouldn’t know how to help Francie,” he demurred, feeling helpless.

  “What matters is that you listen,” Adele repeated. “If you need a starting point, talk about your miniature horses. The aunts said they’re still at the ranch.”

  “They are but— How long are Francie and Franklyn staying here?” Was it right to get involved if they would be taken away? Was it right not to?

  “I wasn’t given a timetable. Until I can adopt them, I hope. They have no relatives. They’ve struggled in several homes because they’re normal, active children, which apparently some people don’t appreciate.” Adele’s rolling eyes expressed her thoughts on that. “I’m told most couples want babies or much younger children. Also, sometimes—” She hesitated, glanced over one shoulder.

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  “Sometimes the twins make up stories,” she murmured very quietly. “It’s caused problems for them so we’re working on that.”

  “You believe t
otal and utter truth is always the answer, don’t you, Delly?” Mac watched her eyes widen, wondering how she’d react if he told her the truth about his “accident.”

  “How can relationships grow and how can you trust someone if they’re hiding behind lies?” She shrugged. “I think The Haven will be good for the twins even though I’m going to be rushed off my feet.”

  “Because?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Victoria and the aunts have this place nearly booked solid for the next few months, not only for visiting foster kids but for parties and local events, including a bunch of Christmas festivities. I’m going to need a kitchen helper.”

  “Don’t look at me. Tasting is what I do best. Good thing you have a dishwasher.” He grimaced at the dirty dishes still littering the counter. “How will you work with the twins underfoot?” The old protective instinct he’d always felt toward Adele bubbled inside. “You’re taking on a lot.”

  “I’m not sure how anything will work,” she admitted as she drained the sink and swished water to clear the suds. “Least of all how it will work with Francie and Franklyn. But I refuse to see those children shuttled from place to place, like I was, like my foster sisters were until the aunts brought us here.”

  “But—”

  “The twins are sweet and loving, Mac.” Adele unfolded her spotless apron and set it aside. “They deserve to be able to relax and be kids without worrying about where they’ll be sent next.”

  “Softhearted Delly.” He smiled at her feisty attitude. “You always did champion the less fortunate.” But there had to be more to her plan. He refilled their coffee then sat down at the table, determined to figure out exactly why his friend was doing this. Thankfully she was in a chatty mood. “Talk to me about this adoption.”

  She sat and stared into her coffee for several moments.

  “You know I had a miserable, abusive childhood. The aunties rescued me from that and brought me here, where there wasn’t constant fighting or parents making promises they never kept.”