TWICE UPON A TIME

by Jennifer Wagner

  Out of the corner of her eye, Anna could see Lina's horrified expression.

  "Second, because they decided to 'get the mail with pictures like the grown-ups do.' Seems they needed more for their 'art,' so they decided to take their neighbors'."

  Anna looked down at the hanging heads, then back up to the bundle of junk mail in Pete's hand. "Well, Officer, are you going to take them to the slammer?"

  Drooping heads whipped up, eyes about to pop from their heads.

  "After all, stealing mail is a federal no-no, right, Officer Joncaluso?"

  "Umm, yes, Ms. Ramsey. This means they broke the president's law, not just mine."

  Tears welled up and spilled out of four eyes. Anna kept her face serious, though it took effort. "Officer, is there anything we could do to keep them out of jail? After all, this is the first time–" she tipped two small chins "–and definitely the last time they'll break any laws. Do you think I could help them return the mail?"

  Pete crossed his massive arms across his chest, and Anna feared for the straining material. "I think that'll be fine with my chief."

  Anna stared at her children until Rebecca understood the look.

  "We're sorry, Off'cer 'Luso." Her brother gave a small nod, all eyes and trembling lower lip.

  Anna opened her mouth to correct the name, but Pete had obviously taken as much as he could before falling on the ground laughing. Bad enough he looked guilty and on the verge of apologizing to them.

  "Go sit on the porch while I talk to Officer Joncaluso," she said instead, arching a look at the equally amused Lina, who ushered them onto the porch swing and then disappeared inside.

  Anna and Pete turned to face the lane with huge grins on their faces. "I know I should be upset at my juvenile delinquents, but—" She coughed, trying to camouflage the laughter bubbling out of her.

  "Anna, it was the damnedest thing. I'm driving up the lane and there they are at the house next door, pulling everything out of the mailbox. Their arms were full and they were dropping the pieces they didn't want on the ground. I guess the bills weren't colorful enough for them." He cleared his throat, fighting his laughter as much as she. "Smart kids. Wish I could throw away the bills."

  "I want to know how they got out of the yard without Lina noticing," she said, peering around him to the four-foot wooden fence.

  "I asked that, too. Seems they pulled over their slide and helped each other somehow. They're lucky they didn't get hurt. That's the only reason for the handcuffs and thirty-foot car ride. We may think this area's safe, but you never know. I want them to think twice before doing something like that again."

  Anna sobered with the thought and the fear of what might have happened had Pete not found them. "They're so quick!"

  "And smart, too," he added.

  "Well, thanks for teaching them a lesson. I'll make sure they return all the mail," she said, smiling up at the large, gentle man. Although, everyone was large in her eyes since she stood only two inches over five feet.

  He smiled back. "They'll remember this." He paused and his smile died. "I hope I wasn't too rough on them. They looked so upset. What if they have nightmares?"

  "Oh, no. They'll be fine."

  "Listen, why don't you bring them by the station next week? I don't want them thinking police are people to be afraid of," he said. "I'll even treat to lunch."

  Startled, Anna searched the face above her. Pete had asked her out before, after finding out she was a widow. She'd started the story when she was pregnant, not only to protect her children from labels, but to fend off advances. Her heart was closed to all other men, and with Rico's death she'd felt like a widow in many ways even though they hadn't married.

  "Pete, that's not necessary—"

  He cut off her words. "I know it's not, but I'd feel better. As for lunch, I know it's not necessary, but I'd like to."

  There was no way she could refuse without hurting his feelings, something she loathed doing to anyone. Especially a man as nice as Pete.

  She smiled. "We'd love to have a tour and lunch with you."

  He blinked in surprise before grinning. "Great! Why don't you give me a call next week and we'll pick a day?"

  She nodded and he handed her the rest of the mail before getting back in his car. With a sigh she watched him go, wishing she was attracted to him. He was a kind, good-looking man, but she felt nothing more than friendship for him. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough of a chance, but the thought of loving and making love with him or anyone else seemed wrong.

  "Mom?" called a wobbly little-boy voice.

  Anna looked to the house and saw the children huddled together on the swing, their skinny legs swinging and trailing loose shoelaces back and forth. "Let's have a talk, you two."

  The three of them cuddled on the large, wooden porch swing. "Are you going to tell me why you stole everyone's mail?"

  Her son sniffed. "We only wanted the stuff with colors. We need more for our pictures."

  Understanding dawned. Her children were currently using their inherited artistic abilities to paste pieces of junk mail together. Personally she thought their collages were genius material, but she just might be a little prejudiced. "How would you feel if someone took all of your colorful mail?"

  Rebecca looked at her gravely. "Sad."

  "That's right, you would. Now I know you're both sorry and I think it will help if we bring back everyone's mail and tell them that." She pulled their heads onto her chest. "Okay?"

  "Okay," they chorused in soggy voices.

  They climbed down and Anna began flipping through the mail, realizing they'd only gotten to three mailboxes before Pete found them. Dana's, the Hendersons' and their new neighbor of two days.

  Oh, great. What a way to make an impression, she thought wryly.

  "Let's go, guys."

  * * *

  Rico wasn't sure which upset him more … the cop handcuffing and scaring the hell out of his kids or his first look at Annabella. When she smiled, his guts twisted into knots. He had no rights to her, but the thought of her with another man shook something in him, bringing back the endless nights after his mother's admission. Telling himself it was the shock of seeing her, he strode away from the window and up to his room.

  * * *

  "Thank you, Dana. They've promised me this will never happen again."

  The twins nodded and Dana Solomon did her best to hide her mirth. "I'm glad to hear that. You know," she said, bending at the waist, her hair sliding in a smooth black waterfall over one shoulder. "I usually throw all the colorful mail away. How about I give you the pieces I don't want and you can make me some pretty pictures?"

  Rebecca's mouth formed a small o. "Really, Aunt Dana?" Dana was around the house so much, it seemed silly to have the children call her Miss Solomon.

  "Really," she promised, brushing her hand against Rebecca's hair.

  "Cool," Rafe whispered, obviously impressed.

  Dana followed them back down to the lane, and the twins walked over to their neighbor's driveway.

  "Anna, can't you give me some warning before you do that? I could hardly keep a straight face," she chuckled.

  "There wasn't time. Besides, by making a big deal about this, I hope to keep from showing up at your door in twelve or so years because they've stolen your car," Anna responded dryly.

  Dana gave up and laughed heartily for a few minutes while Anna kept a sharp, albeit amused, eye on her kids.

  "I want an autographed copy of the strip you do for this," she said, merriment tearing her cerulean eyes.

  "I'll do better. I'll draw you your own."

  "Oh, great!" She looked at the last two envelopes. "Are those for the new guy? G. Moran, huh? I saw him yesterday. Talk about a hunk of man!"

  "You make him sound like a slab of meat."

  Dana sighed impatiently. "You know what I mean!"

  "Uh-oh. Dana's got her prowl look on."

  "Hey, just because I date," she shot back. "Some of us aren't
letting one bad relationship keep us from fishing."

  "Fishing? That's when you use a pole, not a net!"

  Dana burst out laughing. "Whatever. I can see you're not ready for reality. Let me know when the strip is done, and we'll get together for coffee."

  "You bring the cheesecake this time."

  With a groan and a pat on her slim hip, Dana gave a thumbs-up and returned to her small, red cottage.

  "He's gonna yell," whispered her son.

  "He might," Anna answered, although she hoped he didn't. She would have to come back later and do her own yelling at the poor, defenseless man. "But I don't think so."

  "He's just so-o-o big," Rebecca said, walking slower and slower up the front walk.

  Anna reached Mr. G. Moran's front door, trying to guess his first name. Greg? No. Gary? She pushed the bell. Grant? No, too stuffy.

  The door swung open so suddenly the kids took two steps back and bumped into her legs. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak. And it wasn't from fear.

  He was beautiful! Black, wet hair tumbled around his head and down his neck, resting on his shoulders. Thin, black brows arched over liquid brown eyes. His nose was long and aquiline and she immediately thought Native American blood, especially with the amazing cheekbones. His mouth. Oh, my … his mouth. Thin upper lip and full bottom one with a slight scar slicing through both on the right side. Must have been the women fighting over him, she thought, only half in jest.

  Her fingers itched as her mind pictured sketching him in charcoal. Yes, definitely charcoal, she mused. His striking bone structure would look magnificent! Her artistic eye scanned downward, noting the three-inch-long scar running horizontally on his neck, ending at his esophagus. What had happened to him?

  His red T-shirt clung to wet patches on his chest and stomach, outlining amazing abdominal muscles. Clay. She would try emulating him in clay. Molding his chest, stomach, hips…

  She heard him make a noise.

  Or maybe she did.

  "Ah, yes, hi. My name's Anna Ramsey and these are my children." She was furious at herself for ogling him. She could only hope he didn't notice and assume she was a frustrated widow.

  "They, uhhh, borrowed your mail." With her other neighbors Anna told it like it was, but she found herself reluctant to tell this unsmiling stranger. Plus, she couldn't string two words together, much less tell a story intelligently. Her composure was shot.

  "I see," he replied slowly, his voice gravelly yet smooth. James Earl Jones with a slight unidentifiable accent. A ball of heat unfurled in her stomach.

  Holy Hannah, what was happening to her? She'd analyzed her single status not thirty minutes ago when talking to Pete, and now she was reacting like a teenager on hormonal overload.

  And the familiar negative reaction wasn't there.

  "Here it is, only these two letters." She wanted to grab the kids and run to her house, put distance between herself and this disturbing man. "Kids, don't you have something you wanted to say?"

  Both stared up at the man, then glanced at each other, communicating in the silent way of twins.

  Rebecca, of course, spoke for them. "We're sorry!" she yelled, her head tipping all the way back. "We … didn't mean … to make … you sad," she continued, even louder this time.

  "Rebecca, don't yell," Anna admonished, heat filling her face. The situation grew more embarrassing by the moment. Rebecca's yell shook windows.

  "Mom," she threw over her shoulder in a normal level. "If I don't yell, then how's he gonna hear me up there?"

  Anna quickly looked at Mr. G. Moran's face. A quirk lifted the right corner of his mouth and softened the chiseled planes of his face. He bent down at the knees, resting one on the ground as he reached her eye level.

  "This better?"

  He sounded as if he had a sore throat, but Anna found herself soothed rather than flinching in compassion.

  "My name's Gage. What's yours?" he asked, putting out a hand to Rebecca.

  "Rebecca," she replied, placing her small hand in his. Anna saw his apprehension and looked over Rebecca's shoulder to see what caused it. Biting back the gasp surging to her lips, she couldn't hide her shudder.

  Pink scars crisscrossed his hand, ending at knuckles and fingers that had been broken, in several places if she was correct. She felt his pain so clearly, along with the desire to lay her hand across his and take it away somehow.

  Then Rebecca bent her head and she placed a smacking kiss on the back of his hand, where the scars were mostly thin, white lines.

  "There, all better," she said in a sweet, singsong soprano. "You just need a Snoopy sticker now."

  Anna watched him as closely as he watched Rebecca. Poised, she was ready to jump in if he so much as looked at her daughter wrong and bruised her generous spirit.

  Instead, she felt her throat tighten at the surprise followed by tenderness in his velvet eyes. He cleared his throat loudly. Anna realized his reaction was genuine and wondered if he'd had any experience at all with little people. He stared at Rebecca with incredible wonder, almost as if he'd never seen a child before.

  "A Snoopy sticker?" he asked.

  Anna leaned forward, over her son's head. "A Band-Aid." His lips quirked again. "You're right, Rebecca. I think a Snoopy sticker will help."

  Rico's chest tightened as his daughter beamed at him. Two huge dimples appeared in her chubby, pink cheeks. He stared at them for a second, recognizing another problem he hadn't foreseen.

  His child had his dimples. He hadn't smiled in a long time and definitely not in a mirror, so had no idea if his were still there.

  He turned his attention to the young boy standing so still in front of Annabella. His breath caught at his first true look at his son. He hid it by changing position, switching to his left knee.

  Sticking out his mangled hand, he hoped his son would have the same reaction to his scars as his daughter. Son. Daughter. He kept savoring the words, their echoes whispering through him.

  Childish expression hesitant, the boy extended his hand, and Rico was touching his son. Breathing slow and deep, he squeezed gently and examined the face before him. The child had his golden-hazel eyes, but with the same young/old wisdom he remembered in sixteen-year-old Annabella's.

  "Hi. I'm Gage."

  "I yike your voice," his son told him with a small smile. Rico's eyes narrowed, a splinter of memory flashing through him. "Thanks. I like yours, too. What's your name?"

  His son's head cocked to one side as if still hearing Rico's words. He smiled fully this time and, as he answered, Rico remembered where he'd seen that smile before.

  "I'm Rafe."

  Annabella had named his son after Rafael, Rico's own dead twin.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  «^»

  Alarmed by the pain in Gage's eyes, Anna spoke in a rush. "Well, Mr. Moran, I'm sorry we bothered you. I don't want you to think these things happen all the time. Usually you won't even know we're here." She could see a scar running down the left side of his hairline. From the looks of it and the one on his throat and those on his hands, his accident must have been horrific. His legs could also be hurt, she realized. His look of agony must be from his awkward kneeling. Her heart warmed. How nice of him, to suffer for her children just to make them more comfortable.

  "Gage." Wincing as he pushed himself up, he repeated, "Call me Gage."

  "And call me Anna," she said. A shadow passed swiftly over his eyes. The poor man was in a lot of pain. She took his hand quickly in her own, wanting to take her currently obedient children and leave this man in peace.

  Heat. Her first impression as his hand swallowed hers. The man gave off tremendous heat.

  They looked at each other, the moment stretching, shimmering between them.

  Rico soaked up her familiar features. The triangular-shaped face and big, black-lashed eyes gave her the fragile appearance of a doe. Her full, pink lips were made for his.

  Her hair was shorter now, its waves reach
ing just past her shoulders instead of to her waist. He'd always loved her hair, its colors endlessly fascinating. He'd seen a picture of a New England autumn and immediately thought of Annabella's hair, the vivid autumn colors the only comparison he could find to explain it. From brown to red to gold, each color described her. The brown her serious side, the gold her sunny outlook on life and the red, well, the red could only be seen when the light reached in. The red was her passion. Her passion for life, children, animals, anything in need of protecting, and at one time, for him.

  He never counted on this, never counted on one touch, one look, rekindling the desire they'd shared so long ago.

  Annabella yanked her hand from his, doe eyes blinking with desire and panic. The desire he understood, the panic, he did not.

  "We're going to be late for dinner if we don't get home." Reaching down and taking a hand in each of hers, she led the children away. "It was nice meeting you," she said over a shoulder, halfway to her house.

  He stood there and watched his family leave, part of him feeling disappointed she hadn't recognized him. Even knowing it was virtually impossible for her to find any resemblance, especially with his eyes hidden by dark-brown lenses, and knowing it was imperative that she not suspect his existence, still…

  He found himself in a big chair on the porch, watching the sun slide gently down into its mountain bed. Beyond Annabella's house, Lake Coeur d'Alene looked dark and cold without the sunlight dancing over it.

  He knew exactly how it felt.

  * * *

  "Anna, I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself," Lina choked out, loading the dishwater in a frenzy of movements.

  "Lina," Anna said, putting down the leftovers and wrapping her arms around her friend and second mother. "Please stop blaming yourself! You take wonderful care of the twins, and I couldn't raise them without you. It could've happened just as easily if I'd been with them."

  Lina swiped tears from her eyes and glanced to the den where the children sat building a castle out of blocks. "When I think of what could have happened—"