“You can’t make us go,” the other one retorted.
His temper had begun to fray. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, little girl.”
“I’m Cathy. You don’t even know my name.”
“Sorry. Like I said yesterday, I can’t tell you apart.”
“Mommy can,” Angie cried.
“She never mixes us up,” Cathy interjected.
He wondered what the penalty was for deserting two six-year-olds in an airport.
Help, Lord!
“I wanna go home. I want my mommy.”
He grabbed the twins, each by a hand, and headed out of the terminal, all the time expecting someone to have him arrested for abducting children.
* * *
That’s almost what happened.
Nat was awakened at three in the morning by loud knocking on his front door. He hadn’t fallen asleep until well after midnight, so it took him a few moments to orient himself. Then he stumbled his way downstairs.
This had better be important, he silently groused. If not, he’d strangle whoever was on the other side of that door. Especially if the twins woke up because of it.
He stubbed his toe on the door as he yanked it open, serving to increase his foul mood.
“What is it?” He blinked against the bright headlights shining in his face. “Sheriff?” Anger was replaced by alarm. The last time an officer of the law arrived on his front porch, it was with the news of Joanne’s death.
Sheriff Paul Adamson pushed his hat up his forehead with his thumb. “Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night, Nat, but we got a call.”
“A call?” He glanced toward the car again. A deputy stood beside the open passenger door. “What call?”
“You got some little girls here. Maybe five or six years old?”
Alarm turned to outright fear. Had the plane gone down? Were Jim and Leigh—
“You mind if I come in?” the sheriff asked, his voice gruff.
He didn’t move. “Is it Jim and Leigh? Was there a plane crash?”
“Just answer my question, Nat. You got two little girls inside your house?”
“Yes. My nieces. Is this about their parents? If something’s happened to my sister, tell me now.”
Paul removed his hat. “Maybe you’d better let me come inside. And nothing’s happened to Leigh that I’m aware of.”
Nat opened the door wider with one hand while running the fingers of his other through his hair. He was confused, tired and cranky. If it wasn’t because of bad news, what had brought Sheriff Adamson to his doorstep at 3:00 a.m.?
“About your nieces…” Paul began after stepping into the entry. “I need to see them.”
“What for? It’s the middle of the night. They’re asleep.”
“Well, seems they called 9-1-1. Something about being taken from their parents.”
Nat’s gaze darted toward the stairs. “Why those little…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He could hardly think straight. They’d called the cops on him!
“That’s sorta what I figured,” Paul said, the gruffness absent now, replaced by a hint of amusement. “But I still need to see them.”
Without a word, Nat headed up the stairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light switch. Cathy and Angie sat in the middle of the bed, hugging one another and starting at him, wide-eyed and innocent looking.
Innocent? Ha! A more terrible twosome he’d never encountered.
“Here they are, Sheriff.”
Paul followed him into the bedroom, removing his hat as he did so. “Did one of you little ladies dial 9-1-1?”
They both started to cry at once. Whatever reply they tried to make was garbled with tears of woe.
Thirty minutes later, with matters straightened out, Nat saw the sheriff to the front door.
“Don’t be too hard on ’em,” Paul said with a chuckle. “They’re homesick for their mom and dad.”
Nat nodded but didn’t speak. He was kind of sick himself. Taking care of the twins wasn’t going to be the fun and games he’d hoped it would be.
He was in trouble.
Big trouble.
Chapter 12
By Friday, Shayla knew she couldn’t avoid her duties at Paradise another day. She’d made an agreement with Nat. He’d kept his part of the bargain, making repairs to her roof and other things around the cabin. She had to make certain his house was kept clean. With two children living there now, it must be somewhat chaotic.
Besides, curiosity was getting the better of her. She hadn’t seen him since before his return two days ago with his nieces. Anne was no help; she hadn’t mentioned Nat’s name all week, although Shayla was certain her sister and the almost-ever-present Ty discussed him when they were out of her hearing.
Of course, nothing would compel her to ask Anne what she knew.
As Shayla drove up to the ranch house shortly after one o’clock in the afternoon, she saw Ty and Mick riding away from the barn at a full gallop. She pulled the car into her now-customary spot in the shade of a tree outside the back entrance to the house. When she shut off the engine, she knew why the cowboys had been in full retreat. It sounded like a reenactment of the Battle of the Little Big Horn taking place inside.
“I won’t! I won’t!” two voices shrieked in unison.
“Yes, you will!” That was Nat.
She entered through the open doorway, pausing in the mudroom to view the scene beyond.
Two little girls, dark hair in uneven ponytails, sat at the table. Plates of untouched food were in front of them. Nat stood in the center of the kitchen, glaring at the children, his backside against the island, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You are going to eat your vegetables,” he said, speaking slowly and deliberately.
“You can’t make us,” one of the girls retorted.
Nat’s neck and the tops of his ears turned bright red, and for a moment, Shayla thought his eyes might bulge right out of their sockets.
Poor man. He held on to his temper by a thread. Despite herself, she felt sorry for him.
“Excuse me,” she interjected into the tense silence. “Have I come at a bad time?”
He turned toward her with a look of desperation. “Shayla.”
“Who’re you?” one of the twins demanded.
“I’m Shayla Vincent, your uncle’s neighbor. I do some housecleaning for him.” As she spoke, she moved toward the table. “Let’s see. Your uncle told me your names once. Carolyn and Abigail?” Her error was intentional, and it brought the desired results.
“No!” one exclaimed.
“I’m Cathy,” the other said. “And she’s Angie.”
“Ah, yes. Cathy and Angie. Very pretty names.” Shayla studied their faces. Cathy had more freckles across the bridge of her nose. Angie had a cowlick in the center of her dark bangs. And unless she’d totally lost her knack for reading children, these two were trouble with a capital T when they weren’t getting their way. She also knew they had to be homesick and lonely for their parents.
“They’re supposed to be eating their lunch,” Nat volunteered from behind her.
Shayla glanced over her shoulder. He didn’t look as though he’d had much sleep. His eyes were bloodshot.
“They don’t like peas,” he added.
She turned back to the girls and checked their untouched plates. “Lasagna is my favorite. Don’t you like that, either?”
“It won’t be as good as Mommy’s.” Cathy was the obvious ringleader.
“But you can’t know that until you try it” Shayla leaned forward, speaking softly. “Let’s find a compromise, shall we? You eat at least some of your lasagna, and I’ll talk to your uncle about the peas.”
Cathy and Angie exchanged looks, then Cathy answered, “Okay. We’ll try it.”
“Can you tell me what vegetables you do like? Then maybe you and your uncle won’t have to go through this again.”
“C
orn.”
“Potatoes.”
“And carrots.”
“Green beans are okay. Mommy fixes them with bacon.”
Shayla nodded as she straightened. “Do you want me to warm up your lasagna in the microwave?”
“Yes, please,” they said at the same time.
She took their plates and put them in the microwave. After returning the reheated food to the table, she motioned for Nat to follow her outside, moving away from the door and out of hearing distance. “Has it been like this every day?”
“You must have heard. It’s all over town.”
“What’s all over town?”
Nat raised an eyebrow. “Anne hasn’t told you?”
She shook her head.
“Then you’re the only person in Rainbow Valley who doesn’t know about it.” He frowned. “The boys at the hardware store are having a grand old time at my expense.”
“About what?”
“The girls called the sheriff to have me arrested. In the middle of the night, they dialed 9-1-1 and asked for help. They said they’d been kidnapped or something. Can you believe that?” He shook his head. “And that’s only the first thing they’ve done since we got here.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
“It isn’t funny, Shayla. I thought I’d be this great uncle, and instead they hate me.”
Her laughter died instantly. “They don’t hate you.” She had to resist the urge to hug him. “They just don’t know you well enough yet. They’re little girls who’ve been taken from their home and their parents and everything that’s familiar. They’re lonely and homesick.”
“I know. But what do I do about it?”
“For starters, be patient with them.” She supposed it wasn’t necessary to tell him it might get worse before it got better. She glanced toward the house. “Who’s staying with them during the day while you’re working?”
“I’m not working. I’ve been here all the time. Twenty-four hours a day.” His frustration was obvious in his tone of voice. “I’d planned to teach them how to ride so they could go with me during the day, but they don’t want to learn.”
Now wasn’t that like a man? “They’re children, Nat. Not ranch hands.”
“I figured it would be fun for them.”
“You can’t tell me that Leigh expected you to keep them with you all day long every day. She grew up here. She knows how much work it is.”
“Well, no. Of course she didn’t.” He raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. “She said she would pay for whatever child care was necessary.”
“Then it’s time you hired someone.”
“Would you help me?” he asked softly. “I don’t know anything about hiring a sitter for kids. Especially not these little spitfires. If you’d just help me with the interviews. Make sure I ask the right questions.”
A wave of relief washed over her. She’d been afraid he would ask her to be their sitter. She’d been afraid he wouldn’t give a thought to how important her writing was to her, just as Anne hadn’t when she came to stay.
“Would you?”
“Of course.” She nodded. “I’d be happy to help.”
Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she was falling in love with Nat.
Maybe she already had.
* * *
Nat invited Shayla to stay and eat with the family, and she accepted. With her present, suppertime went better than it had the previous two nights.
After they were done eating, she suggested a game of Chinese checkers. The four of them gathered around the big coffee table in the great room and played for more than an hour. Around eight o’clock, she offered to see to the children’s bath and get them ready for bed.
Nat stayed downstairs and did the dishes.
This evening had been perfect, he thought. Exactly what he’d imagined it would be like, having Leigh’s twins with him. And it was all because of Shayla. She was wonderful with the girls. She knew how to put them at ease, how to make them feel more at home and less lonely for their parents. She had a way of speaking that had them eating out of her hand.
And she could tell them apart. How did she do that?
She was amazing, his Shayla.
His Shayla.
He stopped scrubbing the skillet and glanced toward the hall. He heard her voice, followed by children’s laughter.
His Shayla.
“Nat.” As if summoned by his thoughts, she appeared in the kitchen doorway. “They’re ready for you to tell them good night.”
Tossing the dish towel aside, he followed her out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs, and into the bedroom where Cathy and Angie were tucked into bed. Their hair had been washed, dried and neatly combed. Their faces were scrubbed and shining. They looked almost angelic. It was easy to forget their behavior of the past two days.
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over and kissed them each on the cheek. “Good night, Cathy. Good night, Angie.”
“I’m Angie. She’s Cathy.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He glanced toward the doorway where Shayla waited. “I’ll get it right eventually.”
She smiled. “Sure you will.”
Looking at the girls again, he said, “How’d you like to go swimming at the lake tomorrow? We’ll make a day of it.”
“Yes!”
Cathy said, “Can Shayla come, too?”
“Sure. If she wants.” He stood. “Good night. See you in the morning.”
Shayla flicked off the light switch.
“Good night, Uncle Nat.”
“Good night, Shayla.”
“Good night, you two.”
As he stepped out of the darkened bedroom, Nat was awash in good feeling. This was how it was supposed to be.
He and Shayla were silent as they went down the stairs, returning to the kitchen where she retrieved her purse from the counter.
“Leaving already?” He was disappointed. He didn’t want the evening to end.
“It’s time. I hadn’t meant to spend the day here.” She started toward the back door.
He followed. “Will you join us at the lake tomorrow? The girls want you to come.”
“I really shouldn’t. I’m so far behind.”
“You worked some wonders here today. It’s the first time they’ve gone to bed without tears.”
They walked to her car. She stopped and turned toward him. “It wasn’t anything special.”
“You’re wrong about that.” He drew closer to her. “It was special. You’re special.”
Dusk made it difficult to read what was in her eyes as he caressed her cheek with one hand.
“Shayla, I…I want to apologize for Monday. Whatever I said to hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“I guess I’ve been on my own for too long. Me, the dogs, horses and cattle. A man tends to forget how to word things right. Especially to a woman.”
“I overreacted.”
“No. Let me say this.” Silently he prayed, And let me say it right. “You’ve come to mean a lot to me. I think I’ve made that pretty clear, the times we’ve been together. But I don’t think you know how much. I don’t think I knew how much until this past week.”
“Nat—”
He rushed to say it before he lost his nerve. “I love you, Shayla.”
“What?”
“I suppose it seems a bit soon, but it’s how I feel. Since the first day I saw you, stabbing the air with that silly trick knife, I was a goner.”
“I came here to write a book,” she whispered. “Not to fall in love.”
He wanted to kiss her but resisted the temptation. “At least you didn’t say you couldn’t love me.”
“Oh, Nat. It isn’t—”
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a panicked cry. “Uncle Nat!”
They broke apart and raised their eyes to an open second-story window.
“Uncle Nat!”
He raced tow
ard the house, Shayla right behind him. They found the two girls in Joanne’s studio. A bookcase had toppled over. Beside it, surrounded by books, sat one twin, blood running from a wound on her head.
“What happened?” Nat asked above the girl’s cried.
“Angie got hit on the head,” the other twin, Cathy, answered.
Nat had to pry Angie’s fingers out of the way to get a look. While he was doing so, Shayla retrieved a towel from the bathroom.
“This needs stitches.” He lifted the girl in his arms. “Can you drive?”
“Of course.” Shayla held the towel toward Angie. “Hold this against your head, sweetheart. Go on. Take it. It’ll help.” She turned toward Angie’s frightened twin. “Come on, Cathy. Let’s go. It’ll be okay.”
With hurried steps, they raced outside, Nat carrying the injured child. They piled into Nat’s truck. Gravel sprayed up behind the tires as Shayla gunned the engine and peeled out of the drive.
* * *
Nat paced the doctor’s waiting room. What was taking so long? Dr. Dobbins had said it wasn’t serious.
He glanced over his shoulder. Shayla sat on a padded office chair, Cathy in her lap. She stroked the child’s back, all the time speaking words of reassurance near her ear. He wouldn’t mind a few words of reassurance himself.
She looked up, found him watching her, and offered a gentle smile. “She’s okay.”
“You read my mind.”
“It isn’t hard to do.” She patted the seat of the chair next to her. “Come over here and sit down.”
He glanced at the doctor’s office door, then did as she’d told him.
“Head wounds bleed more than others,” Shayla said. “Just a scratch and it looks like a person will bleed to death before it stops.”
“I should have been watching them.”
“You can’t watch them every minute.”
He groaned as he leaned the back of his head against the wall. He stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you weren’t there. I’ll never survive these two without you.” He released another groan as he closed his eyes.
The office door opened. “Nat,” the doctor said.
He was on his feet. “Yes.”
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