His Motherless Little Twins

by Dianne Drake

  He laughed out loud. “Well, I’m on the verge of embarrassing you even more. So maybe I’d better get going.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she said, turning and practically running in the opposite direction. She didn’t stop until she reached the side entrance door, where she discovered she’d gone to the wrong door, he’d gotten her so flustered. Flustered, confused. What on earth was she doing?

  It was a lovely house. Open, spacious. A log cabin, actually, with a vaulted ceiling reaching up so high the only thing Dinah could think about was how to dust the cobwebs off the light fixtures in the ceiling.

  She and Eric had said very little on their way inside, but only because the realtor, Robert Tucker, was on their heels, chattering on about every last little detail concerning the house—when it was built, why it was empty, how much land came with it. He was a veritable fountain of facts, probably because he could taste the sale. The minute they stepped through the front door, she saw the look on Eric’s face, a look that said he’d come home.

  And here she was, trying to figure out a way to dust his home. Even decorate it, fantasizing about a large, overstuffed couch in front of the huge stone fireplace and picturing a king-sized bed in the master suite. Places to curl up and be comfy.

  “You like it?” Eric asked.

  She liked it so much she could see herself living there. Of course, she wasn’t going to gush about it. It wasn’t going to be her house. But if she could have chosen the perfect place for her and Eric and the girls, this would have been it. “I think it will be great for you and the girls. The bedrooms are huge. They’ll love that. And there’s great space out back for them to play. You could put in a swimming pool, maybe their own little playhouse.”

  “Buying something like this is a big step,” he said on a sigh.

  “Trepidation’s natural. But let the girls have a say in decorating their rooms, and you’ll be fine.”

  “With two five-year-olds in charge, you really think I’ll be fine?” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “This is their list of demands, and it starts with a fenced yard for a dog…a cat, a pony, and a goat.”

  “A goat?”

  Eric shrugged. “Beats an elephant, I suppose.”

  “And I suppose you’ll give in to them.”

  “On the dog. Maybe the pony.”

  “But you’ll draw the line at a goat? What if the goat is actually more important to them than the pony or the dog?” she teased.

  He chuckled. “You’re always on their side, aren’t you?”

  “It’s hard not to be.”

  “Patricia would have liked that. I always figured she’d be more indulgent with the girls than I would be, and she’d be happy knowing that you’re the one indulging them. And that the girls like you. Which they do, Dinah. You’re at the top of their best-friends-forever list.”

  Surprisingly, that touched her, and tears filled her eyes. “Do they ever talk about their mother?” she asked, fighting back the sniffles that were sure to follow.

  “Not really. I’m all they’ve ever had, and I’m not sure I do a good job of keeping Patricia in their lives. I’ve always been afraid it would make them too sad.”

  “Or give them part of their identity,” she whispered, as the tears finally broke free. “It’s a delicate balance, a balance they need.”

  “What gave you part of your identity, Dinah? What was your delicate balance? Because I want to know you, know what makes you so afraid.”

  Dinah glanced out the large picture window at Robert Tucker, who was staring back in at them, his face alight with eager anticipation of a sale. She couldn’t do this now. Not when he had Patricia on his mind, because he might think she was attacking Patricia, or that she was jealous. Which she was not. Truthfully, she admired the way he loved his wife. But the things she needed to say to him had to be done when Patricia wasn’t the first thing he thought about. It had to be about them, with nothing else between them, so it would have to wait. “We don’t need to talk about that now. Not when Mr. Tucker is about ready to jump out of his skin. From the look on his face, I think he has plans for the commission he’ll make on the sale, and he’s anxious to go spend that money.”

  “Dinah, I do want to talk about it. I want to know…”

  She shook her head, thrust out her hand to stop him. Sniffled. Shook her head again. “No. You’ve got a house to buy. That comes first. For the girls.”

  “Why do you always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Act like what you want doesn’t matter. Or run away. Because that’s what you’re doing…running away.”

  “But right now what I wanted to talk about doesn’t matter. The house does.”

  Eric blew out an impatient breath. “You know, you were the one who said you wanted to talk. And I want to listen. But I can’t hear you from a distance, Dinah, and that’s where you keep yourself.”

  “Because that’s where you want me kept.” She hadn’t meant that to slip out, but in part that’s how she felt.

  “Where the hell did you ever get that idea?” he exploded. “I mean, I have issues I’m working through. I’ll admit it. I’ve been stuck in a place that I wasn’t ready to leave. But never, ever have I wanted you at a distance. It’s you who puts yourself there, who won’t let yourself go. Won’t let yourself move on. While I’ve been struggling to find a way to put Patricia in my past and get on with my life, you’ve been struggling to find a way to stay in the distance. Oh, you get close, move a little forward, but then you retreat. You say you want to talk then you won’t. So what am I supposed to do, Dinah?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “You don’t know? After what we’ve been trying to find for ourselves, that’s what it comes down to? You don’t know what you want me to do? Or is it that you don’t know what you want?”

  She looked at Robert Tucker again, and the look on his face was worry now. He feared the loss of his sale.

  But Dinah feared the loss of her heart. The first true loss of her heart.

  It was so damned frustrating trying to figure her out. He wasn’t sure he could, and at this point wasn’t sure he wanted to. Granted, the emotional stress of Dinah’s last relationship, on top of losing the child she’d come to love, had to be overwhelming. He understood that. Those were things he wanted to help her through, help her overcome. But it was the other thing that frustrated the hell out of him. Dinah was a brilliant, accomplished woman. She had amazing credits as a nurse with skills that surpassed her credits. She had amazing credits as a chef. Plus she was a natural when it came to search and rescue. She was also good with children in a way he’d rarely seen before. Yet she retreated. In fact, she’d almost raised it to an art form, she was so good at it. It was like she’d make her way to the front of the line then immediately remove herself to the rear of it, always on the verge of turning and running away from the line altogether.

  He was positive he could see what she wanted. Earlier, when they’d walked through the house he’d decided to buy, the look on her face had been one that said home. She wanted to be there, with him, with the girls, yet when she’d realized that’s what she wanted, she’d pulled away. Not just pulled, run as hard and fast as she could. Figuratively. Had they not been in an area of White Elk she didn’t know, she’d have probably done her running in the literal sense.

  Of course, his own situation didn’t help matters any. But at least he was working on it. Trying hard to move forward. Not only for himself but for the girls. They needed more than he was giving them, and Dinah was showing him how much. Oh, not in an overt way—Eric, do this. Eric, do that. But she was so tuned in to the girls, so in touch with their needs and how, even at age five, they were growing up. He had to be more sensitive to that, and until Dinah had showed up, he hadn’t been aware that he wasn’t being responsive the way he needed to be.

  “So, what do I do?” he asked Pippa an hour later. She was looking up at him none too pat
iently.

  “Put the flour in the bowl, Daddy! Just put it in the bowl.”

  They were baking cookies. Or at least trying. The three of them, decked out in aprons, were making a huge mess of Janice’s kitchen. Pippa and Paige wanted to bake, but Dinah hadn’t been available. So here he was, being the worst cook in the world. But being it with his daughters, at Dinah’s suggestion. “Just do it, Eric,” she’d told him. “It’s about the process, not the results.”

  And it was a nice process, really. Dinah was right. The experience itself was much better than the cookies would probably be. So why didn’t he know that, and why did she?

  It was frustrating. He wanted to be a perfect dad. But his shortcomings were mounting. Or maybe he was simply more aware of them now. “Then what comes after the flour?” he asked, truly wishing Dinah was there. It was a wish on his mind more and more because he could see her as the perfect mom to his daughters—the only person he’d thought of that way other than Patricia. But more than being a perfect mom, he could see Dinah as the perfect wife. The wife he wanted.

  Paige handed him a measuring spoon. “You measure out the salt, then the baking soda. Be very careful it’s only what the recipe says. Dinah says that in baking, you have to be exact.”

  Amazing, she even sounded like Dinah. “And what happens if I’m not exact?” he teased.

  Both girls turned up their noses. “Yuck,” they said in unison. Then Pippa continued, “You’d have to throw it out and start all over because it should be the best you can make it.”

  “And who told you that?” As if he couldn’t guess.

  “Dinah did,” Paige answered. “She said no matter what you do, you have to try your best.”

  “You two really like her, don’t you?”

  They nodded eagerly. “But sometimes she’s sad,” Pippa said. “Why, Daddy?”

  “Sometimes people get sad. Even doctors don’t always know why. But if I knew how to make Dinah feel better, I would,” he said, grabbing the carton of eggs Paige was handing him. “So what do I do with the eggs, and do I put the eggshells into the cookies, too?”

  “Daddy!” Both girls giggled, tugged on his apron, tried to push him away from the cabinet.

  “You know what?” he said, after a ten minute tussle with the girls. “Let’s leave the cookies until later. I’m in the mood to take my two best girls out to a nice dinner.”

  “At Dinah’s restaurant?” Pippa asked.

  “At Dinah’s restaurant. And you can order off the adult menu. Escargots, if you want.”

  “What’s that?” Pippa asked.

  “Snails.” Eric kept a straight face. “Cooked in garlic butter. Yummy.”

  “Eew,” the both squealed, scampering away to get dressed.

  An hour later, dressed in a grey suit he hardly ever wore, escorting two of the prettiest girls in town, one dressed in a lavender A-line dress, one dressed in yellow—the dresses bought on a shopping trip with Dinah—and both wearing colored lip balm she’d also bought them, the Ramsey family made their grand entrance into the Pine Lodge Restaurant, where they were escorted to a table with the best view in the house, as Eric had requested.

  “I don’t want snails on my menu,” Pippa told the maître d’. “Daddy said we could have the adult menu, but it has snails and we don’t like snails.”

  Paige was responding with a firm shake of her head, turning up her nose.

  “Very well,” the maître d’ said, making a big production of handing each of the girls the children’s menu. “This is the menu without the snails.” He handed the same menu to Eric. “And it’s not necessarily for children. We have a very fine chef here who will prepare anything on this menu just the way you like it.” He glanced at Eric. “In adult portions, if requested.”

  “She’s going to marry my daddy,” Paige said quite loudly.

  “Who?” the maître d’ asked, as Eric frantically shook his head, trying to stop his daughter from making a pronouncement that shouldn’t be made.

  “Dinah. The chef. She’s going to marry our daddy,” Pippa volunteered. “They picked out a house today.”

  The maître d’ responded with the arching of his eyebrows then backed away. “Your server will be Jeffery, and he’ll be here momentarily. Please, enjoy your meal.” He handed Eric an adult menu then left.

  “Who told you I’m getting married?” Eric asked, trying to keep his voice down.

  “I heard Aunt Janice tell Debbi. She said if you were smart you’d marry Dinah.” That from Pippa.

  Paige continued, “And you’re smart, Daddy. You’re the smartest man we know. So that means you’re going to marry Dinah!”

  “Look, girls. Dinah and I are…friends. We haven’t ever…”

  “Champagne, sir?” Jeffrey said, setting two flutes of bubbly down in front of Eric. “And for the girls, ginger ale. Compliments of the house, to celebrate your engagement to Miss Corday.”

  “See, Daddy!” Pippa exclaimed. “Everybody knows.”

  Eric dropped his head into his hands, and groaned. How could one little dinner with his daughters have gone so wrong, even before the first course?

  “So, I hear we’re engaged?” Dinah said, stepping up to the table. She was dressed to cook, hair done up under a chef’s hat, wearing a white chef’s jacket and black and white checkered chef’s pants, spatula in hand. “I was just asked if I wanted to step out of the kitchen and have a celebratory flute of champagne with my intended and his family.”

  “Even she knows,” Paige cried. “That means you are!”

  Eric’s response was to leave his head in his hands and groan again.

  Dinner went quite nicely, considering the way it had started. He’d ordered a spinach and squid linguine in garlic cream sauce, from the adult menu, while the girls had chosen chicken, from the children’s menu. Except for her one brief appearance at the table, Dinah had stayed in the kitchen. They’d made arrangements for a late-night dessert together after he’d taken the girls home and tucked them into bed. He looked forward to that because it had been Dinah’s invitation, the first right and proper date between them, she’d called it. Truth was, they hadn’t had that first date yet. Not a real date. Admittedly, he was nervous.

  So, after he’d accepted Dinah’s offer, he’d explained to the girls that he and Dinah were not picking out a house together, were not getting married. They’d taken the information well, but a mischievous look that had passed between the girls told him the matter was not closed. At least, as far as they were concerned, it wasn’t.

  Ice cream was the chosen dessert for the girls, while Eric passed on the last course, contented to drink his coffee and stare out the window at the sunset. It was a beautiful evening. Clear. The sun was casting a golden haze over the top of the older Sister, a spectacular sight. This was a good place to live, and he’d never regretted moving here with the girls. Oh, he’d resisted at first, when Neil had suggested it. Neil was from here, and they’d met when Neil had come to California to take a job. Neil’s heart had never left here, though, and he’d wanted to come home almost from the day Eric had met him. Somewhere in the middle of Neil’s two-year contract, he’d convinced Eric that White Elk would be a good place to raise Pippa and Paige. And, as it had turned out, it had. Now he didn’t want to leave here. Didn’t have the same desires he’d once had for big-city medicine and an upwardly mobile career. This was good. And finally moving on made it even better.

  He was moving on, too. Slowly, sometimes not very surely. But he was in the process, thanks to Dinah. She was showing him there was still a lot of life waiting for him if he wanted to have it. With Dinah, he did want to have it. And if nothing else came out of their first right and proper date tonight, he was going to beg…get down on his knees if he had to and beg her patience. The picture of it in his mind was ungainly, but he would do whatever it took to keep her here, to keep her from running away.

  For the first time in years, Eric was anxious to see what life held in store for
him.

  “More sprinkles, please,” Pippa said to Jeffrey, who’d inquired as to her satisfaction with the ice cream.

  “Me, too,” Paige chimed in.

  Eric smiled. Yes, it was a very good life. He only wished…Glancing at the kitchen door for the hundredth time that evening, he stopped the thought. No point in wishing. Dinah wasn’t ready to step over the line. Wasn’t even ready to come close.

  He was a patient man, though. Maybe that would be enough to get him through until she had a change of heart. Or maybe that’s what would eventually do him in. For now all he had was time…time to wait.

  Taking another sip of coffee, he looked out over the mountaintop again, admiring the splendor of the amazing palette of colors against the darkening sky. Johnny Mason’s yellow plane, a twelve-passenger commuter, was making its lazy way through the sky. The Canary, everybody called it. The Canary, which was available for rescue and transport whenever he needed it.

  Johnny was good that way. So was everybody else here. Nice, solid people. People who cared.

  “Can Johnny see us?” Paige asked. “We’re almost as high as he is.”

  “No, it’s too far away. And right now Johnny is concentrating on landing.” The small airstrip on the middle Sister had been built recently, with two or three small commuters using it regularly, as well as several private planes. During the ski season private planes flew in celebrity skiers practically every day. This evening, though, Johnny was flying in Fallon O’Gara. She was a backbone of the hospital, maybe the most essential person there, and while no one begrudged her a short holiday, he was glad she was coming back. White Elk Hospital simply ran better with Fallon there.

  “When can we ride in The Canary?” Pippa asked. “Because Johnny said he’d let us if you will.”

  Eric chuckled. “He did, did he?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “We’ll talk about it when you’re eight.”

  “Seven,” they protested in unison.

  “Nine,” he argued back.

  “Seven and a half,” they countered together.