Читать книгу Secret Christmas Twins - Lee McClain Tobin - Страница 12

Chapter Three

The next morning, Jason padded down the stairs toward the warmth of coffee and the kitchen. Noticing a movement in the front room, he stopped to look in.

There was his grandfather, in his everyday flannel shirt and jeans, staring out the window while holding a ceramic angel they’d set on the mantel yesterday. As Jason watched, Papa set it down and moved over to a framed Christmas photo of Jason and Kimmie as young kids, visiting Santa. Papa looked at it, ran a finger over it, shook his head.

Jason’s chest felt heavy, knowing there was precious little he could do to relieve his grandfather’s suffering.

But whatever he could do, he would. He’d been a negligent grandson, but no more.

Mistletoe leaned against his leg and panted up at him.

He gave the dog a quick head rub and then walked into the room just as Papa set down the photograph he’d been studying and turned. His face lit up. “Just the man I want to see. Come get some coffee. Got an idea to run by you.”

“Yeah?” Jason slung an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders as they walked into the kitchen. He poured them both a fresh cup of coffee, black. “What’ve you got in mind?”

Papa pulled a chair up to the old wooden table and sat down. “Got someone coming over to do a little investigating about our guests.”

“You, too?” Jason was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who felt suspicious. In a corner of his mind, he’d worried that it was as Renea had said: he couldn’t trust, couldn’t be a family person. “I can’t figure out why Kimmie left the farm to her. What were they to each other?” As executor of the estate, he needed to know.

The mere thought of there being an estate—of Kimmie being gone—racked his chest with a sudden ache so strong he had to sit down at the table to keep from falling apart.

“I’m thinking about those babies, for one thing,” Papa said unexpectedly.

“What about them?”

“Something’s not right about them, but I don’t know what it is. So I’ve got Ruthie Delacroix coming over this morning. There’s nobody knows as much about babies as Ruthie.”

Jason remembered the woman, vaguely, from visits home; she’d always had a child on her hip at church, and he seemed to recall she ran a child care operation on the edge of town.

“And that’s not all I’m wondering,” Papa said darkly, “but first things first.”

Jason grinned. Papa conniving and plotting was better than Papa grieving.

“I figure I have to take the lead on this, since you haven’t shown a whole lot of sense about women. When you brought home that skinny thing—what was her name? Renea?—and said you were going to marry her, your grandmother had a fit.”

Jason wasn’t going to rise to that bait. And he wasn’t going to think about Renea. He got up and started wiping down the already-clean counters.

No sooner had his grandfather headed upstairs to his bedroom than Jason heard the sound of babies babbling and laughing, matched by Erica’s melodic, soothing voice. A moment later, she appeared, a baby in each arm.

Even without a trace of makeup, her fair skin seemed to glow. Her hair wasn’t styled, but clipped back, with strands already escaping.

His heart rate picked up just looking at her.

As she nuzzled one of the baby’s heads—was that Mikey or Teddy?—he was drawn into her force field. “Want me to hold one of them?”

And where did that come from? He never, but never, offered to hold a baby.

“Um...sure!” She nodded toward the wigglier baby. “Take Teddy. But keep a grip on him. He’s a handful. I just need to get them some breakfast.” As she spoke, she strapped Mikey into the old wooden high chair.

Jason sat down and held the baby on his knee, studying him, wondering what Papa saw that made him worry. But the kid looked healthy and lively to him as he waved his arms and banged the table, trying to get Erica’s attention.

Which seemed perfectly sensible to Jason. Even in old jeans and a loose blue sweater, Erica was a knockout. Any male would want her attention.

Nostalgia pierced him. Erica moved around the room easily, already comfortable, starting to know where things were. It made him think of his grandfather sitting at this very table after a long day of farmwork, his grandmother bustling around fixing food, declining all offers of help in the kingdom that was her kitchen.

Papa was grieving the loss of his wife now, but his life had been immeasurably enriched by his family. In fact, it was impossible to think of Papa without thinking of all those who loved him. And when Jason and Kimmie had needed some extra parenting, Papa and Gran had opened their arms without a second thought. They’d been the making of Jason’s childhood.

Unfortunately, Kimmie had seen more neglect before Papa and Gran had stepped in. She’d never quite recovered from their parents’ lack of real love.

“Would you like some oatmeal?” Erica asked a few minutes later, already dishing up four bowls, two big and two small. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked rather than assuming. The twins love oatmeal, and so do I, and it’s about the most economical breakfast you can find.”

“That would be great.” He shifted Teddy on his knee. “Put his down here and I’ll try to feed him. No guarantees, though.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. You had the care of them all night. At least you ought to get a minute to eat a bowl of oatmeal yourself.”

“That would be a treat.” She placed a small bowl beside his larger one and handed him a bib and a spoon. “Go to it.”

Trying to get spoonfuls of oatmeal into a curious baby proved a challenge, and as Erica expertly scooped the cereal into Mikey’s mouth, she laughed at Jason’s attempts. How she managed two, as a single mom, he couldn’t fathom.

“Hey now,” he said when Teddy blew a raspberry that spattered oatmeal all over himself, the high chair and Jason. “Give me a break. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Teddy! Behave yourself!” A smile tugged at Erica’s face as she passed Jason a cloth. “When he spits like that, he’s probably done. Just wipe his face and we’ll let them crawl around a little.”

Mistletoe had been weaving between their legs, licking up the bits of oatmeal and banana that hit the floor. Jason reached down to pat the dog at the same moment Erica did.

Their hands brushed—and Jason felt it to his core. “Nothing like a canine vacuum cleaner,” he tried to joke. And kept his hand on the dog, hoping for another moment of contact with Erica.

“I know, right? We totally should have gotten them a dog back in Arizona.”

And then her hand went still. When he looked up at her face, it had gone still, too.

“Who?” Jason asked. “You and their dad?”

“I should have gotten them a dog,” she said, not looking at him. “I meant, I should have.”

The detective in him stored away that remark as relevant. And it was a good reminder, he reflected as they both scarfed down the rest of their breakfast without more talk. He couldn’t trust Erica, didn’t know what she had been to Kimmie. Getting domestic with her would only cloud his judgment. More than likely, she’d been a bad influence, dragging Kimmie down.

Beyond that likelihood, he needed to remember that he was no good at family relationships. He was here, in part, to see if he could reset his values, and he’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t even try to start anything with a woman until he’d improved significantly in that regard. It wasn’t fair to either him or the woman.

* * *

Just moments later, as Jason finished up the breakfast dishes, there was a pounding on the door. Mistletoe ran toward it, barking, as Papa came out of his room and trotted down the stairs to the entryway. Jason heard the door open and then his grandfather’s hearty greeting.

Immediately, the noise level jumped up a notch. “Hey there, Andy! What’s this I hear about babies in the place?”

An accompanying wail revealed that she’d brought at least one baby with her. Probably her grandson, whom she seemed to bring everywhere.

Jason walked into the front room, where Erica was sitting on the floor with the twins. “Ruth Delacroix,” he said in answer to Erica’s questioning expression. “She’s a force of nature. Prepare yourself.”

“Good morning, everyone!” Ruth cried as she came in, giving Jason a big hug and kiss around the baby she held on one hip. Then she spun toward Erica. “And you must be Erica. Andy was telling me about you, that you’re here for a visit with some... Oh my, aren’t they adorable!”

“Let’s sit down,” Papa suggested, “and Jason will bring us all out some coffee. Isn’t that right?”

“Sure.” Jason didn’t mind playing host. He was glad to see his grandfather seeming a little peppier.

When he carried a tray with coffee cups, sugar and milk into the front room, the three babies were all on the floor, and Ruth and Erica were there with them. The pine scent from the Christmas tree was strong, and the sun sparkled bright through the windows, making the ornaments glisten. Papa had turned on the radio and Christmas music poured out.

“Mason! Stop that!” Ruth scrambled after her toddling grandbaby with more agility than Jason could muster up, most days, even though Ruth had to have thirty years on him. “He’s a handful, ever since he started to walk.”

Teddy, not to be outdone, started scooting toward the shiny tree, and Mikey observed with round eyes, legs straight out in front of him.

“Like I said,” Ruth continued, “I’m down a kid, so I’d be glad to watch these little sweethearts anytime you need. A couple of my regular clients are off this week and kept their little ones at home.”

“Thanks.” Erica was dangling a toy in front of Mikey, who reached for it. “I’m not sure quite what I’ll be doing, but knowing there’s someone who could look after the twins for a few hours is wonderful. I really appreciate you thinking of it,” she added to Papa Andy.

“No problem, sweetheart.” Papa took a small ornament off the tree and held it out to Jason. “Remember this?”

“The lump!” Jason laughed at the misshapen clay blob. “Haven’t seen that in years. That’s my masterpiece, right?”

“You were pretty proud of it. Insisted on hanging it in a place of honor every Christmas, at least until you turned into an embarrassed teenager. And so here it is right now.”

Jason smiled as Papa reminisced, egged on by Ruth and Erica. This was important, and Jason was starting to realize it was what he wanted for himself. Traditions and family, carried on from generation to generation. Just because his own parents hadn’t done a good job of making a true home for him and Kimmie, that didn’t mean he had to follow their patterns. He wanted to be more like Papa.

He had some work to do on himself first.

While he reflected, he’d been absently watching Erica—she was easy on the eyes, for sure—so he noticed when her expression got guarded and he tuned back into the conversation.

“What are they, seven, eight months?” Ruth was saying. “They’re big boys.”

“They’re fifteen months,” Erica said.

“Oh.” Ruth frowned, and then her face cleared. “Well, Mason, here, he’s real advanced. Started walking at ten months.”

“They have some delays.” Erica picked up Mikey and held him high, then down, high, then down, jumping him until he chortled.

Teddy did his strange little scoot crawl in their direction. Jason noticed then that Ruth’s grandson was indeed a lot more mobile than the twins, a real pro at pushing himself to his feet and toddling around.

“Why are they delayed?” Ruth asked. “Problems at birth?”

“You might say that.” Erica swooped Mikey down in front of his brother, and the two laughed.

Teddy pointed at the tree. “Da-da-da-DA-da-da,” he said, leaning forward to look at Mikey.

“Da-da-da-da-da!” Mikey waved a hand as if to agree with what his twin brother had said.

Teddy burst out with a short laugh, and that made Mikey laugh, too.

“Now, isn’t that cute. Twin talk.” Ruth went off into a story about some twins she’d known who had communicated together in a mysterious language all through elementary school.

As the women got deeper into conversation about babies, Papa gestured Jason into the kitchen. He pulled a baggie from a box and started spooning baking soda into it.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He tossed the baggie onto the counter and then pulled out a couple of syringes. He grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer.

Jason stared. “Where’d you get that stuff and what are you doing with it?”

“From your narco kit, and it’s just a little test. You’ll see.”

“But you can’t... That’s not—”

“Come on, hide in the pantry!” Papa shoved Jason toward the small room just off the kitchen. “Hey, Erica, where did you put those baby snack puffs?” he called into the front room.

There was a little murmuring between the two women as Papa hastily stepped into the pantry and edged around Jason. “Watch for anything suspicious,” he ordered.

Helpless to stop the plan Papa had set into motion, Jason watched as Erica came into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and pulled out some kind of baby treats. Behind her, Mistletoe sat, held up a paw and cocked his head.