by Jill Kemerer
“What’s in it?” She willed her emotions back into place and gave the boy what she hoped would pass for a smile.
“Toiwet paper.” His lisp was so cute.
“Hmm...” She tapped her finger to her chin. “Where should we put the toilet paper?”
“The bathroom?” He took one of the handles and dragged the bag down the hallway as she set the milk and cream in the fridge. He ran back to her and peeked into the bags. “Can I help?”
“Sure.” She pointed to the crackers and cookies. “Why don’t you set these in the cupboard over there?”
He grabbed the cookies, threw open the cabinet door, tossed the package on top of canned vegetables and repeated the process with the crackers. Then he made a production out of wiping his hands. “Now what?”
Mason walked between them with two large bags of salt pellets on his shoulder.
Noah followed him to the basement door, then ran back to Brittany. “I don’t like it down there.”
She bent down to Noah’s eye level. “I don’t, either. It’s dark and creepy.”
“Yeah. Cweepy.” He nodded, his expression a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Are you getting ready for Christmas?” She folded the paper bags.
“Yes! I’m getting presents! And Daddy’s taking me to Christmas Fest!”
“He is?” She motioned for him to follow her to the table. “What’s Christmas Fest?”
“Cookies and reindeer and an ice rink!” He climbed onto a chair on his knees.
“Well, that sounds like fun. I might have to check it out.”
Mason’s boots stomped up the steps. He looked at Noah. “Ready to go, buckaroo?”
“I wanna stay.”
“We need to get our own groceries home.”
Noah yawned, and Mason helped him put his coat on, then scooped him into his arms.
“Thank you.” Brittany held the door open for them.
“Tell Nan I’ll be over on Monday afternoon.”
She blinked. “How often do you stop by?”
“Every day but Sunday. I’d take her to church, too, but Lois Dern insists on picking her up.”
For once there wasn’t any animosity in his gaze. Just the truth. And the truth hurt. He’d been taking care of Nan all this time, and Brittany hadn’t even known Nan had needed help.
“I see.” Her voice sounded as small as she felt.
He arched his eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Then he carried Noah, who waved at her, down the steps to his truck.
She did see. And she didn’t like the picture.
Mason had taken over Nan’s care. His disdain for Brittany came through loud and clear.
Like most guys in her life, he’d decided she was all about herself.
Maybe she was.
They never seemed to understand that she had almost no free time and hadn’t in years. Working multiple jobs and scraping pennies to have her own studio might be selfish, but it didn’t make her a terrible person.
It looked like more changes to her life would need to be made. Nan was too important for Brittany to just leave her here without knowing she’d be safe. Mason might check on her in the afternoon, but what if Nan fell in the middle of the night? Got sick? Stopped paying her bills? Or grew more forgetful?
Was it time to look into assisted living?
Or...she supposed she could move Nan to California to live with her. Her head hurt at the thought. The logistics of it overwhelmed her.
She had time—a couple weeks—to figure out Nan’s care.
What would be best for her grandmother?
Chapter Three
One question had been gnawing at him since finding Ryder on his porch last night. Which of them had been born first?
Mason strode beside Ryder down the path to the stables. Thankfully, Eden had offered to watch Noah for him. He’d briefly filled her in on the situation when he dropped Noah off after putting away the groceries. Eden, Mia’s younger sister by three years, still lived with his in-laws. Bill and Joanna had gone Christmas shopping, allowing Mason to avoid having the twin conversation with them. They wouldn’t be put off for long, however.
“Okay, now that you’re here,” Mason said, “I have a burning question.”
“Shoot.”
“When were you born? Which one of us is older?”
Ryder barked out a laugh. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. One of us is the big brother, and one is the baby. It’s time we found out.”
“My birth certificate says I was born at 5:43 a.m.”
Ryder grimaced. “Mine says 5:54 a.m.”
“I guess that means you’re my little brother.” Mason slapped him on the back. “By eleven minutes.”
“And I guess it means you’ll be rubbing it in forever.”
“I guess it does.” It didn’t seem quite as bizarre to think of the man beside him as his brother anymore. He hitched his chin toward the stables. “You sure you want to ride?”
“I’d love to. I miss it,” Ryder said. “I grew up on a sheep ranch in southern Montana.”
“Sheep, huh?” Resentment between sheep ranchers and cattle ranchers had been simmering since the West had been settled. Both fought for grazing land, and both begrudged each other for it. Pops had never had a good thing to say about sheep ranchers.
He took a closer look at Ryder. His clothes were typical Western wear, but they were high quality, as were his expensive boots and hat. “You aren’t still ranching?”
“No.” He matched Mason’s strides under the brilliant blue sky. “My grandparents got out of it when I was eleven. We moved closer to the city because Granddad needed medical care. Cancer took him a few years later.”
Cancer. How he hated the disease that had stolen Mia from him. “Pops inherited this land along with the cow–calf operation and passed it down to me. Are you still living in Montana?”
“No. Moved out to California for college. I’m in the Los Angeles area. For now.”
They reached the stables and Mason slid open the door. Dim light and floating dust motes greeted them as he led the way to the tack room. After hauling gear out, they saddled two quarter horses.
“Feels good to be out in the wide open again. It’s been a long time.” Ryder patted the neck of Rookie, one of Mason’s favorite horses, as they rode toward the frozen-over creek. “I was torn about coming over, but this makes it worth it.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about last night.” Mason hadn’t put much thought into how Ryder might be handling having a twin. When had he gotten so self-absorbed? “It was a shock.”
“For me, too. Finding out about you...well... Life has been chaotic lately.” Ryder shrugged and nudged Rookie forward. Mason, riding Bolt, fell in beside him. “I’m glad you called this morning.”
Mason was, too. And he knew all about chaos. Change had never been easy for him, and the past couple of years had been downright terrible. Noah had been the only thing worth waking up for besides the ranch. Mason would keep it running, even if it got to the point where he had to thin the herd further or let go of his extra ranch hands. He’d give this land to Noah someday.
“What do you do in LA?”
“I’m a CPA, and I do financial planning, as well.” Ryder glanced around, taking in the hills. “Sometimes I miss this—outdoor living. My girls would love it out here.”
“Twins, right? How old did you say they were?”
“Three and a half.”
“Huh.” That was a weird coincidence. “Noah is, too. When’s their birthday?”
“March 24.”
“Whoa-ho-ho.” Mason shifted in his saddle as Ryder slowed Rookie. “That’s Noah’s birthday.”
His eyes widened. “You mean they were born on the same day?”
“Just like we were.” It seemed
impossible. Yet he looked at his spitting image riding next to him and realized it was possible. Anything was, really. Suddenly, Mason wanted to know everything about this man. “I had appendicitis in the third grade.”
“Me, too. January. Right after Christmas. I was glad to miss school.”
“Same here!” A sense of wonder swirled in his mind. The man who looked just like him shared more than his appearance. They’d had kids on the same date, illnesses at the same time. “We shared a womb.”
Ryder’s mouth opened. He closed it without saying a word. Then he said, “I guess we did.”
“Earlier someone stopped me at the grocery store and asked me if I ever sensed I had a twin. I can’t say I did. Did you?” Actually, several people had stopped him earlier, and he’d practically sprinted out of there. Part of him was surprised he hadn’t seen a line of cars in his drive when he got home.
“No, I had no idea I had a twin.”
For the next thirty minutes, they rode along the creek and grilled each other about their childhoods. Laughter flowed freely, and more than once Mason caught Ryder inspecting him as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Neither volunteered information about the mothers of their children, though. He rarely talked about Mia outside of his Tuesday night meetings with Gabby and Eden, and Ryder had mentioned a divorce, so it must be a sore subject.
“Why’d they do it? Why keep us apart?” As they headed back to the stables, Mason hoped Ryder had more insight than he did. The deception bothered him. His memories of Ma and Pops didn’t mesh with the reality saddled up next to him.
How could they have kept a brother from him? And why?
Ryder stared off into the distance. “I keep asking myself the same thing. I wish I knew. I can’t ask my grandparents. They’re long gone. I haven’t been back to my hometown since I was a kid.”
“Someone must have known. How did we just now learn about each other? If anyone around here knew, I’d have found out long ago. Secrets are spilled on a regular basis in these parts.”
Ryder’s jaw shifted. “To be frank with you, I haven’t asked myself too many questions because I know I won’t like the answers. It was enough to come out here and meet you.”
A gust of wind chilled Mason.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Ryder glanced his way. “I know this is sudden, but I’d like to come back. I have the last two weeks of December off. Would it bother you if I brought my girls out here to meet you?”
He usually resisted last-minute plans, but he wanted to meet his nieces.
I have nieces. With all the information he’d been trying to process, it hadn’t sunk in that he was an uncle. The thought warmed his heart.
“I’d like that. Stay here with the girls. And why don’t you have supper with me and Noah tonight? I gave him the condensed version of you earlier. Be prepared for a lot of questions.”
“Okay.”
“I know I wasn’t the welcome wagon yesterday, but...having a brother is pretty cool.”
“Maybe there’s a simple explanation for why we never knew about each other.” Ryder’s smile lit his eyes. “I guess we have Brittany to thank for finding each other.”
“I guess we do,” he said quietly. Ryder had a point. As much as Mason wanted to leave the past in the past, maybe he should stop in at Nan’s tomorrow before Brittany left and thank her for introducing them.
It wouldn’t mean anything had changed. It was simply the right thing to do.
But the image of her smiling face as she pushed Noah on the tire swing earlier made him pause. Maybe he should leave well enough alone. It was safer to hang on to a decade-old grudge than to let Brittany’s sunshine into his life again.
After Mia’s death, he’d made a promise to himself. There could be no one else. He’d already had the best.
I’ll never let you go, Mia.
* * *
Brittany tapped her pen against the blank spiral notebook page. Fifteen minutes of brainstorming had yielded no results.
Nan had lived in this house ever since she’d gotten married at eighteen. After two days here, Brittany wasn’t sure Nan would be able to live on her own for much longer.
But what could she do about it?
At meals, Nan picked at her food. She most likely skipped eating altogether when left to her own devices. Her bony frame could use more nourishment.
Also, from the smell of it, Nan wasn’t bathing regularly. She used to shower first thing in the morning. When Brittany suggested she take a shower, Nan claimed she’d washed up yesterday, which was not true. How long had it been since she’d shampooed her hair?
Other things nagged at her, as well. The house was tidy, but dust covered every surface, and the floors hadn’t seen a mop in a long time. Yesterday afternoon, Brittany had scrubbed the house, but how long would it last?
She stretched her arms over her head. Nan was resting in her room. The Sunday service had tuckered her out.
After church, Gretchen Sable, a sweet older lady who was friends with Nan, had pulled Brittany aside, given her a paper with her number on it, patted her hand and told her to call her anytime.
At least the church was the same as it had been a decade ago. Sure, the old blue carpet had been replaced, but familiar worship songs had filled the air and the message of grace had not fallen on deaf ears. It reminded Brittany of her church back home.
That was another thing to thank her grandmother for—Nan was the one who’d told her about Jesus and encouraged her to pray.
The last time she’d attended a Sunday service here with Nan, she’d been eighteen and full of excitement about the future. Now? She hadn’t fulfilled her dreams. They’d never included scrimping to pay bills, teaching only a handful of classes and renting a run-down matchbox of an apartment.
Success had eluded her in every area.
The sharp pang of discouragement tore through her chest. Had her entire adult life been a waste? Had she made the wrong choices?
Her mother certainly thought so and wasn’t afraid to say it. As for Brittany’s father, she had his last name, but he had never been part of her life. Now that Mom was busy traveling as a corporate consultant, Brittany rarely talked to her, either. It wasn’t as if she cared what the woman thought anymore. God saw Brittany’s heart and didn’t judge her by her lack of progress. So why was she judging herself so harshly?
She tossed down the pen and massaged her temples. She was supposed to be coming up with solutions for Nan’s care, not wallowing in some strange what-had-she-done-with-her-life crisis.
The sound of a vehicle coming up the drive broke her concentration. She peeked out the window and recognized Mason’s truck. Why was he here? Whatever the reason, her pulse sped at the thought of seeing him again.
She put her coat on and shoved her feet into her boots to meet him on the porch. The air was crisp and the frozen countryside beautiful. He strode up tall, sure of himself. The cowboy boots, hat and jeans fit him like a glove. Her stomach did a pirouette. She looked for signs of Noah, but the boy wasn’t with him. Too bad. He was a cutie.
His eyes weren’t as hard and judgmental today. A girl could get lost in those depths.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“I’d ask you inside, but Nan is sleeping right now.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Actually, I wanted to speak with you, too.”
“If this is about what happened way back when...” His expression grew wary.
“No.” She waved him off. “It’s been a long time. We’ve both moved on with our lives.” She fought for a chipper tone. Talking to Mason used to be easy—from the day she’d met him until the day she’d left. This awkwardness felt wrong—understandable, but wrong. “I wanted to talk to you about Nan. About how she’s doing.”
He widened his
stance, crossing his arms over his chest. Formidable.
“I don’t like it when you tower over me. I know it’s cold, but let’s sit.”
His left eyebrow cocked skyward, but he followed her to the rocking chairs on the covered porch.
She sat in one and waited while he settled into the other. She was all too aware his knee was only inches from hers. “Nan isn’t the same.”
“The same? What do you mean?”
She’d never been good at this—being blunt. Never quite knew how to approach a subject without offending someone. And it tended to result in her rambling.
“She’s gotten thin. Just this morning I caught her hiking up the elastic on her black church pants, and let me tell you, they still drooped. And her hair really concerns me. I mean, how many days does she go without showering? It’s so unlike her.” Without thinking, she rose to her feet and stretched to her tiptoes before sitting down again.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
How could he not have noticed? She turned to face him. “She sleeps more. Drifts in and out all day long. You know how she used to be. Capable. Self-sufficient. She drove everywhere, baked up a storm, made jam, quilted. This house was always spotless, and she’d sit in her rocker with a book most afternoons, and she’d have this peaceful, happy expression on her face. I loved that.” Her heart simultaneously warmed and pinched thinking about it. She hugged herself. “But now? She’s forgetful. Confused. And frail.”
He leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “She’s getting up there in age. What did you expect?”
What did she expect? If she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t wanted to face the thought of Nan being anything other than the strong, kind woman who’d taught her how to pray and to be comfortable in her own skin. It had been delusional on her part to expect Nan to still be a powerhouse at eighty-six.
“I don’t know.” Her head dropped. “I just don’t know.”
He didn’t say anything. Simply sat there, quiet and still.
She’d always struggled with stillness. Even now, her arms and legs longed to move, explore the space and, to some extent, help her come to terms with what she was feeling. A series of pique turns down the length of the porch enticed her. But she kept her feet rooted in place.