Читать книгу Adopted: Twins! - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 7

FOR how long?

All we have is one burned house to rebuild and we’ll be back to normal.

It occurred to Matt as they started out to the farm that this might be no short undertaking. The Bay Beach Home lay in ruins, and finding accommodation in this town was next to impossible. Rented houses were taken by tourists at big dollars, and everything else…

Everything else would have to wait. ‘Worry about tomorrow tomorrow,’ he told himself, glancing back at the cavalcade behind him. Rob was driving him home in Matt’s truck—‘because there’s no way you’re driving tonight,’ the doctor had decreed, and Matt could only agree. He didn’t even feel like driving.

Behind them was the police car, driven by a police constable and containing Erin and the twins. Behind that another helper was driving Erin’s Home car. That car held enough Welfare donations to clothe a small republic.

Heck!

He glanced back again and Erin was sitting in the passenger seat of the car behind. They were just turning out of town, and as they passed under a street lamp she looked right back at him, raised her eyebrows and gave him a quizzical look that said she knew exactly what he was thinking.

That this was a disaster.

This was just great!

He had a mind-reading, bossy tenant, with twins and trouble attached. His nice bachelor existence looked like it was being threatened in a much more dire way than when he’d thought earlier that he might—just might, mind you, definitely not would—ask Charlotte to marry him.

Charlotte was one thing. Married to Charlotte, he knew he’d be free to carry on with life as normal, and his emotional involvement would be minimal.

But life with Erin and twins?

Life could just be chaos.

Then he twisted back to face the road ahead as Rob applied the brakes. Behind them, the cavalcade slowed as well.

‘I think this might be someone wanting to speak to you,’ Rob said, and he gave him the same quizzical look that he’d just received from Erin. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it’s your Charlotte.’

His Charlotte…

Once more he had that sensation of entrapment—the sensation he’d had since he was about thirteen and Charlotte had told the district he was the man she intended marrying. Of course it was Charlotte, driving her smart little red BMW and pulling to a halt as Rob steered Matt’s truck to a halt on the grass verge. Then she was out of the car and darting across the road toward them.

Charlotte was looking immaculate. Of course. When had she not? She was wearing her signature, beautifully cut, white slacks and white silk blouse, her long, blonde hair was carefully braided into a chignon, and she looked all ready for their intimate dinner.

Except she was no longer expecting her special dinner. Bay Beach had a very effective communication system, and it hadn’t let Charlotte down. She’d heard of the fire. Hauling the truck door open before Matt could do it himself, she practically threw herself into his arms in relief.

‘Matthew… Oh, love, you could have been killed.’ But emotion or not, her eyes were taking everything in, including Rob—and including the red velvet box lying forgotten in the map compartment. Sensibly, she ignored it. Almost.

‘Sally rang and she said you dived into that burning building and pulled out the orphans all by yourself. She said you were burned!’ She stepped back and saw the nasty red blister on his forehead and the grime of smoke all over him—and then, instinctively, she looked down at herself.

Whoops. Her pure white ensemble was now smudged grey.

House fires, however, required courage. Matt had been brave and she could be, too.

‘It’ll wash off,’ she told her beloved. ‘Not to worry. But, Matt, Sally said the doctor said you’re not to stay alone.’ She turned to Rob. ‘Bring him to my place.’

It was time Matt put a word in, but it was tricky to do.

However, Rob was made of sterner stuff.

‘We can’t,’ Rob said, and thumbed back to the cavalcade. ‘Matt’s got all the company he needs.’

Charlotte looked back—and then stared in horror as she saw who was in the police car. ‘Not the orphans!’ she gasped. ‘You’re not taking the orphans home with you. Matt, you’re burned!’

‘I can cope.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Charlotte, there’s only two kids needing a place to stay, and Erin will take care of them.’ Matt was growing uneasy now. Erin had emerged from the police car and was walking over to see what was happening. From where she was now, she could hear every word Charlotte said. ‘Erin’s been through a lot, Charlotte.’

‘I’m sure she has.’ Charlotte shook her head in disbelief that this could be happening. ‘But darling, so have you.’ She turned her head and raised her voice. ‘Erin, Matt’s coming back to my house. He needs to be looked after. Your organisation can look after you.’

Whoa…

Erin took a deep breath. Count to ten, she told herself. This is important.

Charlotte was not one of Erin’s favorite people. Lovely and gracious, and generous to people she considered the ‘right sort’, her graciousness had never extended to Erin. Erin was three years younger and about a million miles below her on the social ladder. As she’d grown older, Charlotte had grown more adept at hiding her distaste for those she considered beneath her, but somehow Erin always knew exactly where she stood. Right on the bottom rung!

But, like Charlotte, Erin could be ruthless when she needed to be, and she needed to be ruthless now. ‘Charlotte, Matt’s offered us accommodation.’

‘I don’t care if he has.’ Up until now, Charlotte had had a wonderful feeling about this evening. The sight of that tiny crimson box confirmed she’d been right, and now all it had come to was this! ‘Anyone can see he’s unwell.’

And so was Erin. She’d been through enough without Charlotte’s arguments. Back in the police car were two subdued little boys who needed a bed, fast. She knew well enough that at Matt’s house she would find one—and one for herself, too.

There wasn’t an alternative.

‘Matt’s offered to take us in and I’ve accepted,’ she said, and there was a certain amount of grit in her voice. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, but we’ve been through too much tonight to stand on the road and argue. If you could just let us go…’

‘Matt’s hurt.’

‘Then follow him home and fix him up,’ Erin replied wearily. ‘I’m sure I can’t do it with your style. A sticking plaster and a push in the direction of bed is all I’m capable of, believe me.’

Charlotte glared. She didn’t like this one bit.

But what was the alternative? Charlotte was thinking on her feet, and she was thinking fast.

Firstly—naturally—she was thinking that Erin was attractive and unmarried and she didn’t like the thought of such a woman staying with Matt. But then, Matt had known Erin for ages—since childhood in fact—and he hadn’t seemed attracted in the past. So maybe that was okay.

Her eyes moved imperceptibly sideways. He’d already purchased the contents of the box, so she needed to concentrate on priorities.

Which were, secondly, that Erin was saddled with the twins. They might be subdued now but the whole town knew their reputation. Matt would be driven crazy before he could get used to them in the house.

The only alternative open to her now was to invite them all back to her place, and that didn’t bear thinking of. She had a perfect little horse stud in the hills; the house was immaculate and children would destroy it.

What else then? Create a scene? No! She knew Matt would hate it. She’d worked so hard to make him see her as the perfect wife that she’d be a fool to mess it up now.

The velvet box was there, like a tantalising promise. She could concede a little.

‘Okay, sweetheart,’ she said softly, ignoring Erin totally and turning back to her intended. ‘You go ahead. I’ll bring your dinner over.’

‘My dinner?’ Matt was still too befuddled to think.

‘You were coming to my place for dinner. Quails with the most gorgeous sauce… I’ve kept it hot for you.’ She gave him her most loving look, and he responded with gratitude. But he didn’t want her quails.

‘Eggs on toast is all I’m capable of tonight,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. Freeze my dinner. It’ll have to wait for some other time.’

This wasn’t going to work.

Erin had never been inside Matt’s house, but she walked through the front door and she darn near walked out again. This and the twins? No and no and no.

‘You’d best take off your shoes,’ Matt said, through force of habit. ‘The carpet shows every mark.’

‘I’d guess it would.’ Erin stared at the floor in doubt, but obligingly removed her shoes and then turned to the boys and slipped theirs off too.

The twins let her do what she wanted and they hardly moved as she did. The Welfare lady had dressed them—sort of—but they were so subdued they hadn’t said a word. Now Erin badly wanted to get them alone. She wanted them bathed and tucked up somewhere warm and safe and alone, where she could cuddle the shock and fear out of them.

Matt was stooping to help with their shoes, and she was grateful for that at least.

‘Did…did you choose this carpet—or did Charlotte?’ she managed. It was a stupid conversation starter, but it was something.

‘My mother chose it,’ he said stiffly and that made her blink in surprise, memories flooding back.

She’d known Matt’s mother—not that they’d ever spoken, of course. Matt’s family owned one of the wealthiest farms in the district. Not so Erin’s. As one of eight kids in a big, loving and decidedly impoverished family, Erin was considered by Mrs McKay to be a nobody.

Which suited her nicely, she acknowledged. Erin had no wish to move in Matt and Charlotte’s exclusive world. She and her friends—and their respective parents—used to check out Louise McKay’s perfectly tailored white suits and think how impractical they were. Only Louise thought they were perfect.

‘Didn’t your mother die five years ago?’ Erin managed, thrusting away memories of the perfect Louise. ‘This carpet looks unused.’

‘I usually use the back door,’ he told her. Then he managed a grin. ‘I guess Mum trained me well—or I got sick of taking off my boots.’

‘I can see that.’ She stared at the white carpet, and then through to the white leather lounge suite in the sitting room beyond. ‘The boys and I had better get used to the back door as well.’

‘I guess it’d be best.’

Hmm.

The situation here was decidedly strained. Erin was standing in the front hall of the great McKay family home. Alone—apart from the twins—with Matt McKay. The feeling was…weird?

But she didn’t have the time to examine her personal feelings. The boys’ needs were too great. ‘Show me the bathroom and where the boys can sleep,’ she said wearily. ‘They need to be in bed.’

So did Matt. He gave himself a mental shake, trying to sort priorities. There were two bathrooms. He could clean up in one while she coped with the twins in the other. Maybe he could help her, but first he had to clear his head. It still felt fogged with smoke and the aftermath of terror.

‘This way.’ He led them, minus their shoes, to the back of the house. Here were two bedrooms side by side, with a bathroom between. To Erin’s delight, the beds were freshly made, as if he’d been expecting guests any day.

‘It’s another legacy from my mother,’ he told her, seeing her look of surprise. ‘The bedrooms stay immaculate at all times in case of unexpected visitors. That’s you. Unexpected visitors.’ He managed another of his smiles, and even though it was crooked and weary it was a smile that made a girl want to take a backward step.

Or a forward step?

But he was talking in a dragging voice that had Erin suddenly looking sharply up at him. She needed to focus here. The burn on his forehead was blistering badly and his eyes were red-rimmed from the smoke. He might be hero material but he was badly shocked and he’d inhaled a lot more smoke than she had.

‘I’m afraid they won’t stay immaculate if my twins are sleeping in them,’ she said apologetically, and then, propelling her charges into the bathroom, she turned back to him with decision written all over her. House mother personified. ‘You go and take a shower yourself,’ she said. ‘And then go straight to bed.’

‘We’ll see. I do need to eat. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when the twins are settled.’ He managed a rueful smile. ‘That is, if you dare leave them alone.’

‘They’ll be good tonight,’ Erin told him, and she smiled as she ruffled the twins’ soot-blackened hair. The children were so tired they were sagging on their feet. ‘Won’t you, boys? I think any mischief has been blasted right out of you.’

‘We’re sorry, Erin.’

It was the first whisper she’d had out of either of them. She’d run a bath, washed them to within a whisker of their lives, rubbed them dry on Matt’s mother’s sumptuous white towels—and still managed to leave a streak or two of grey on the gorgeous linen—and then cradled them into bed. They shared the one bed, despite there being twin beds in the room.

In times of trouble these two stuck together and they were sticking together now.

And all the time they’d stayed silent.

Now, dressed in some very strange and ill-fitting pyjamas, they looked up at her from their shared pillow, and their eyes were still glazed with shock and fear and remorse.

‘We only made the bomb to scare Pansy,’ William said, trembling, and if he hadn’t sounded so pathetic Erin might have been tempted to laugh. Oh, heck… Pansy Poodle?

‘Why on earth would you want to scare Pansy?’

‘So Mr and Mrs Cole would move away and stop being nasty to you.’

That was all she needed! She was overtired and overemotional and now she had to blink back tears. They were such terrors but there was always a motive. They had such good little hearts.

Somehow she schooled her features into sternness, and hugged them both.

‘Well, we were very, very lucky that Mr McKay came to save us. You’ll promise me you’ll never, ever play with fireworks or matches again? Not even to scare Pansy?’

‘We promise,’ Henry told her and she looked down and knew that she had their word.

It wouldn’t be a bomb next time. Something else for sure, but not a bomb.

She tucked them in, hugged them again for good measure and wondered where Tigger was now. They loved Tigger, and when they realised he’d been burned… It didn’t bear thinking of.

Then she looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Matt was standing in the doorway. He was clean now, big and bronzed and capable, dressed in clean jeans and an open necked shirt and with only the burn on his forehead to show any damage had been done.

He was back to the farmer she knew.

Charlotte was one lucky lady, Erin thought suddenly. A class above the likes of her or not, Matthew McKay was not bad as husband material.

Not only was he extremely good looking, with his thatch of sun-bleached brown curls, his weathered skin and his strongly muscled frame, but his deep brown eyes were twinkling with kindness. In his hands he held two mugs, and he carried them carefully over to the bedside table for the boys.

‘My Grandma always used to say a glass of warm milk is the best cure in a crisis,’ he told the twins. ‘So I brought you boys one each. There’s another for Erin when she’s had her shower.’ And then he smiled at Erin—a smile that somehow had the capacity to knock her senses reeling. ‘Off you go, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re clean.’

Darn, she must be more exhausted than she thought, Erin decided. She really was very close to tears, and his kindness was almost her undoing.

‘I’ve also brought my very favourite story book from when I was seven,’ he told her, motioning to a book tucked under his arm. ‘It’s all about fire engines. So I propose that you go and clean up while I read to the boys.’

‘Your throat…’

‘Hurts,’ he finished for her. ‘Well guessed. I’d imagine yours does, too. Luckily my book’s mostly pictures so the boys and I just have to look. So scoot.’ He smiled down at the two nervous little boys in their shared bed, and his smile was encompassing and kind. ‘Is that okay with you guys?’ he asked them. ‘It seems a bit unfair that we’re clean and Erin’s not.’

The boys considered in silence—and then slowly nodded in unison.

‘Great.’ Matt’s smile widened and he sank down onto the bed beside Erin. It was sort of crowded down there—four on the bed—but it was familiar and very, very comforting after the fear of the last hours. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he told Erin softly, ‘but I’m pooped and the sooner we get this lot asleep the sooner we can get to bed ourselves.’

Absolutely.

He was perfectly right.

So why did his words bring a blush to her face as she rose and headed gratefully to the bathroom?

And those tears were definitely still threatening.

By the time she’d showered, the twins were solidly, absolutely asleep. Wrapped in one of Louise’s vast towels, Erin checked them from all angles and decided it’d take another bomb to wake them, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.

She didn’t blame them. She was exhausted herself, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.

He’d meet her in the kitchen, he’d said, but she couldn’t go and find him wrapped only in a towel. Her own clothes were disgusting, so she hauled on an enormous dressing gown she found in the donations pile and made her way through the house to find him.

The house was huge. Vast! It must have six or seven bedrooms, she thought as she padded barefoot down the passage, and when Matt emerged from a door in front of her she practically squeaked in fright.

‘Hey, I’m no ghost.’ Still those eyes twinkled as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Uh, oh. You’re done in.’

‘You must be, too.’ She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were still reddened slightly from the smoke and the burn on his forehead had blistered further. ‘You look a darn sight worse than me.’

‘I’d have to agree there.’ The laughter lines deepened as he took in her total appearance. ‘But only just. What you’re doing in a bathrobe that looks like it was designed for Mother Hubbard…’

That brought a chuckle. The robe was enormous. She swam in it, and it trailed out behind her like a flannelette bridal train.

His voice softened as he realised why she was wearing it. ‘Hell! I guess you’ll have all lost your own clothes.’

She had. She’d barely had time to take it in yet, but it was something she’d have to face. Most of her belongings were back in the blackened, smouldering ruin. However…

‘They were just things,’ she said resolutely, trying not to think of her mother’s seed pearl necklace that she’d loved so much. ‘Things can be replaced.’

‘You’re one brave lady.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life as I was this evening. I thought I’d lost them.’

‘The boys.’

‘Yes.’ He was leading her into the kitchen as they spoke, and at last she relaxed. Unlike the rest of the house, this felt like a proper home. The kitchen had ancient polished floorboards, big comfy furniture, a huge wooden table and cushioned chairs, and a settee than made you want to bounce and sink out of sight.

A gleaming Aga was sending out its gentle warmth across the kitchen, and an ancient collie dog looked quizzically up at her as she entered. He thumped his tail gently against the floor and then went straight back to sleep.

This was home, she thought. This was a real home.

Damn, she had to blink back tears again. The waterworks were surely ready to pounce tonight. The fear had driven every ounce of strength from her.

Bed.

She should go to bed, but…

‘Hot chocolate and a brandy,’ Matt was saying. ‘I know I told the kids warm milk, but you and I need something stronger. I’ve eaten toast. Do you want something to eat? No? Then just a drink and then bed.’ He turned away to fetch mugs and glasses, and while he was faced away his voice changed. ‘You love them, don’t you?’

‘Who?’ She leaned against a chair to steady herself—her legs seemed to have lost all their strength—but she knew instinctively who he was talking about. His next words confirmed it.

‘The twins.’

The hot chocolate made, he turned back to her and gestured for her to sit. There was nothing for it. In her ridiculous night wear she sat, sinking into his squishy chair like she was drowning. She took the chocolate and cradled it, drawing strength from the warmth of the mug.

She thought of the twins and her mouth twisted. ‘I’m pretty fond of them.’

‘You’re a House Mother,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I thought you’re not supposed to get attached to your charges.’

‘You mean I’m not supposed to care if they go up in flames?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’ He was watching her face. ‘The boys are different, though, aren’t they? To you.’

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘Why?’

That was harder to answer. She thought about it and gave him the easy answer. ‘It’s probably because they’ve been with me more than most. Kids don’t tend to stay in orphanages any more. They get adopted or fostered out as soon as we can find someone who’ll take them. Fifty years ago we used to have scores of orphans. Now we have kids like Tess and Michael who are in for short-term crisis care, or the baby Lori’s taken for me. She’s been with us while her mother made the decision to allow her to be adopted.’

‘And the twins?’

‘That’s the problem. We can’t find anyone for the twins.’

There. It was said—the stark reality that hurt just to think of it.

‘Why not?’ Matt said, watching her face.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Liar.’

She shrugged, and then gave him a weary smile. ‘No. I’m not a liar and I do find it hard to understand. They’re adorable. But the twins push people away, you see.’

‘I don’t see.’

‘You may well see it soon.’ She sighed. ‘Look, they were the product of a one-night stand. Their mother doesn’t remember who their father is, and she has seven other kids to look after. To be honest, the twins reached their mother’s IQ level when they were about three. I’d reckon whoever fathered them wasn’t lacking in the intelligence quotient and they’re smart as paint. Anyway, she can’t cope with them, she rejected them absolutely and she threw them at us for adoption. Unfortunately they were old enough to understand what was happening.’

‘And they’re taking it out on the world?’

‘Only on whoever is deemed to threaten them. And now they expect to be rejected. They won’t let anyone close because they know it’ll end.’ Erin sighed. She was bone-weary and the comfort of the hot chocolate and the sympathy in this man’s eyes was more than enough to push her over the edge. He’d poured her a brandy but she wasn’t game enough to drink it. Her eyes wanted to close so badly…

‘Sleep,’ he said, and leaned over and took the mug from her hands before she dropped it. ‘You’ll find toothbrushes and everything you need in the bathroom.’

‘I already have.’ Her tired eyes smiled. ‘Your mother must have been the best hostess in the district—and you haven’t let her standards slip one bit.’

‘I’m not allowed to.’ He smiled back at her and his weary smile touched something in her insides which hadn’t been touched in a very long time. If ever. ‘Charlotte’s trained the redoubtable Mrs Gregory for me, and she sees to it that everything’s pristine.’

‘Uh, oh.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Before she knew what he intended, he reached forward and took both her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet and then stood for a moment, looking down into her troubled eyes. ‘I’m sure you and me and the twins and Mrs Gregory will get along just famously.’

And Charlotte? Erin added under her breath but she didn’t say it. Instead she looked up at Matt, a crease of worry still behind her eyes.

‘Doc Emily said I should keep an eye on you tonight. You did lose consciousness.’

‘I did,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But I don’t want checking every hour, thank you very much. If I promise not to die in the night, will you promise to go and put your head down on the pillow and let tomorrow’s worries wait until tomorrow?’

Those dratted tears… Damn, they threatened to be her undoing.

She blinked and sniffed and then blinked again.

‘Fine then. Um…you have put something on that burn?’ She was under no illusions that Charlotte would kill her if it got infected.

‘I have at that,’ he told her. ‘It’s cleaned and it’s nicely antiseptic. So we can both go to bed with a clear conscience. Goodnight, Erin.’

‘Goodnight, Matt. And…thank you.’

And then, because she looked so rumpled and lost and forlorn he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and let his lips brush her forehead.

‘It was all my pleasure,’ he said softly. ‘Now stop thinking about twins and burns and belongings and worries. Think only about yourself for a change. Sleep!’

And she did.

There was simply no choice.