We can go directly there, if you’ll point the way.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“That cabin hasn’t been opened up in a couple of years. The heat’s off, water’s off, who knows what critters have been living there...” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you were thinking, bringing those babies out in this storm.”
Guilt surged up in her. He was right.
“For now, you’ll have to stay at the farmhouse with me.”
Whoa. No way. “That’s not safe or appropriate. I don’t know you from—”
The front door burst open. “There you are! I was ready to call the rescue squad. Who’d you bring with you?”
All she could see of the man in the doorway was a tall blur, backlit by a golden, homey light that looked mercifully warm.
“Open up the guest room, would you, Papa? We’ve got Kimmie’s friend here, and she has babies.”
“Babies! Get them inside. I’ll put on the soup pot and pull out the crib.” The front door closed.
Jason looked at Erica, and for the first time, she saw a trace of humor in his eyes. “My grandfather’s house. He’ll keep you and the twins safe from me and anything else.”
Behind her, through the car’s closed windows, she could hear both twins crying. She didn’t have another solution, at least not tonight. “All right. Thank you.”
Moments later they were inside a large, well-heated farmhouse kitchen. Erica spread a blanket and changed the twins’ diapers while Jason’s grandfather took a dishrag to an ancient-looking high chair. “There you go,” he said, giving the chair’s wooden tray a final polish. “One of ’em can sit there. You’ll have to hold the other for now.” He extended a weathered hand. “Andrew Stephanidis. You can call me Papa Andy.”
“Thank you.” She shook his hand and then lifted Teddy into the high chair. “This is Teddy, and—” she bent down and picked up Mikey “—this is Mikey, and I’m Erica. Erica Lindholm.” Who might be wanted by the police right about now. “I’m very grateful to you for taking us in.”
“Always room for the little ones. That’s what Mama used to say.” The old man looked away for a moment, then turned back to face Erica. “Sorry we’re not decorated for Christmas. Used to have holly and evergreens and tinsel to the roof, but...seems like I just don’t have the heart for it this year.”
Jason carried in the last of her boxes and set it on the table. “I put your suitcases up in the guest room, but this box looks like food.” He was removing his enormous boots as he spoke. “Sorry about the mess, Papa. I’ll clean it up.”
The old man waved a hand. “Later. Sit down and have some soup.”
Erica’s head was spinning. How had Kimmie gotten it so wrong, telling her the mean brother never came to the farm? And it sure seemed like Kimmie’s grandmother, the “Mama” Papa Andy had spoken of, had passed on. Obviously, Kimmie had completely lost touch with her own family.
In front of Erica, a steaming bowl of vegetable soup sent up amazing smells, pushing aside her questions. She’d been so focused on feeding and caring for the twins during four long days of travel that she’d barely managed to eat. The occasional drive-through burger and the packets of cheese and crackers in the cheap motels where they’d crashed each night couldn’t compare to the deliciousness in front of her.
“Go ahead. Dig in. I’ll hold the little one.” Papa Andy lifted Mikey from her lap and sat down, bouncing him on his knee with a practiced movement.
Erica held her breath. With the twins’ developmental delays came some fussiness, and she wanted to avoid questions she wouldn’t know how to answer. Wanted to avoid a tantrum, too.
But Mikey seemed content with Papa Andy’s bouncing, while Teddy plucked cereal from the wooden high chair tray and looked around, wide-eyed. The babies cared for, Erica scooped up soup and ate two big pieces of buttered corn bread, matching Jason bite for bite even though he was twice her size.
When her hunger was sated, she studied him from under her eyelashes and tried to quell her own fear. Kimmie had been afraid of her brother’s wrath if he discovered that she’d gone back to drugs and gotten pregnant out of wedlock. And she’d feared disappointing her grandparents. That was why she’d become estranged from the family. She hadn’t said it outright, but Erica had gotten the feeling that Kimmie might have stolen money from some of them, as well.
None of that was the twins’ fault, and if Kimmie’s family history were the only barrier, Erica wouldn’t hesitate to let Jason and Papa Andy know that the twins were their own relatives. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could raise them herself with no help, and having a caring uncle and great-grandfather and more resources on their side would be only to their benefit.
But Kimmie had said Jason would try to get custody of the twins, and seeing how authoritative he seemed to be, Erica didn’t doubt it.
Kimmie hadn’t wanted her brother to have them. She’d insisted there were good reasons for it.
Erica wished she could call and ask, but Kimmie wasn’t answering her phone. In fact, she’d left a teary message two days ago, saying she was moving into a rehab center. She’d assured Erica that she was getting good care, but might not be reachable by phone.
Now that Erica was sitting still, for the moment not worried about her and the twins’ survival, sadness washed over her. For Kimmie, for the twins and for herself. With all her flaws, Kimmie had been a loving friend, and they’d spent almost every moment of the past month together. Like a vivid movie, she remembered when Kimmie—addicted, terminally ill and in trouble with the law—had begged her to take the twins.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. You’re so young. You’ll find a husband and have babies of your own...”
“No, I won’t,” Erica had responded. “But that’s not what’s important now.”
“You have time. You can get over your past.” Kimmie had pulled a lock of hair out of Erica’s ponytail. “You could be beautiful if you’d stop hiding it. And you need to realize that there are a few men out there worth trusting.”
Remembering Kimmie’s attempt at mothering, even at such a horrible moment, brought tears to Erica’s eyes even now, in the bright farmhouse kitchen. Erica wouldn’t get over her past, wouldn’t have kids of her own, as Kimmie would have realized if she hadn’t been so ill.
But Erica had these babies, and she’d protect them with her life. They were her family now.
The old black wall phone rang, and Papa answered it.
“Yes, he’s here.” She listened. “No, Heather Marie, he’s not coming out again in the storm just because you forgot to buy nail polish or some such crazy thing!” He held the phone away from his ear and indistinguishable, agitated words buzzed out from it. “You saw a what? A dog?”
Jason took one more bite of corn bread, wiped his mouth and stood. He might have even looked relieved. “It’s okay, Papa. I’ll talk to her.”
Papa
