His-And-Hers Twins

by Rita Herron

  “You’re getting the hang of it, Summer,” Paige said in an encouraging voice. “Your stitches are getting straighter every time.

  “Look at mine,” August said.

  “Mad Molly will love it,” Paige exclaimed. Both girls beamed proudly, tugging at her heart.

  “Can we make clothes next time?” August asked.

  “Sure. We can make anything you want.”

  When the girls finally finished, Paige praised them both. The stitches were crooked and big, but it didn’t matter. They had put a lot of effort into the work.

  “Come on, let’s get ready for bed, then we’ll have a story.”

  The three trudged into the kitchen for water first and Paige gasped. “Henrietta, stop!”

  “Oh, no!” Summer and August screamed.

  Henrietta had knocked the spaghetti bowl off the table and was digging in with her paws. “Catch her!” August screamed.

  But Henrietta took off running, streaking the floor with her spaghetti-red paws.

  “Not there!” Paige yelled.

  “Henrietta!” August shouted. “Wait!”

  “Come back here!” Summer screamed.

  It was too late. Henrietta ran into the dining room and jumped up on the table, skittered across it, then sprawled on top of Paige’s white dress, smearing her red spaghetti-stained paws all across her final project.

  Paige froze in absolute horror. Henrietta had completely ruined her project.

  Summer and August reached for Henrietta, but Henrietta scurried across the pieces on the table, smashing gooey spaghetti into the fine fabric, then leapt off the table and raced through the house, marring the floor with her messy footprints. They almost caught her in the hallway, but she barreled back to the kitchen and ran outside through the pet door. Paige checked to make sure Henrietta had run into the backyard instead of the street, then returned to the house to find the twins washing the black-and-white dress in the sink. Paige groaned silently. Wetting the dry-clean only fabric had simply smeared the red sauce into bigger splotches. Black bled onto the white sections, turning the material into a murky gray.

  Summer and August stared at her wide-eyed as she surveyed the damage. “Oh, my gosh!” August’s chin quivered.

  “Can you fix it?” Summer sloshed soapy water everywhere as she attempted to catch a tear from her cheek.

  Paige hugged them both, murmuring comforting words, but she felt like crying herself. All those long hours of tedious work and her final project had been destroyed within minutes. Not only was the black crepe and white poplin splattered and streaked with red spaghetti, but Henrietta’s claws had picked the material beyond repair.

  “Paige?”

  “Sorry,” Summer whimpered, bursting into tears.

  Paige glanced at the girls’ sorrowful expressions and her heart ached. Her mother would have had a fit if she’d seen the messy floor. Once upon a time, Paige would have also cringed, too. But the project and her house didn’t matter nearly as much as the little girls. She knelt and folded them into her embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” August whispered.

  “We didn’t mean to be so much trouble,” Summer cried.

  “Don’t leabe us like Mommy did.” The girls’ sobs tore at her heart and Paige stroked them and crooned comforting words. “Mommy hated anmuls, ’specially Henrietta.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart, it was an accident.” She brushed back their hand. “And I don’t hate Henrietta. She’s just being a dog.”

  “But Henrietta’s our dog,” August argued.

  “And we should’ve watched her better.” Summer gulped.

  “And I shouldn’t have left the spaghetti out so she could get to it. And I should have hung up the clothes instead of leaving them on the table,” Paige added, accepting full blame. She hugged them against her, wiping away their tears.

  “You’re not mad at us?” Summer said.

  “You won’t go away?” August asked.

  Paige shook her head. “I love you, girls. And, no, I’m not mad, and I’m not going anywhere.” She glanced at the ruined dress, ignoring the despair settling in her chest.

  Summer and August threw their arms around her. “We love you, Paige.”

  Paige smiled and hugged them again. “I love you, too.” She gestured toward the stained material. “Now, let’s clean up this mess before your dad gets back and thinks we’re a bunch of little animals ourselves.”

  August giggled. “’Kay, Paige.”

  Summer swiped at her nose and nodded. Between the three of them, they finished cleaning the kitchen and floor, then Paige gathered the outfits and dropped them in the trash.

  “But what will you do for your prospect?” August asked.

  “My project,” Paige clarified.

  “Will they drop you out of school?”

  “No, honey, don’t worry.” Paige stuck her hands on her hips, her mind racing for a solution. She only had a few pieces of material left, not nearly enough to redo the first project. “I don’t know what I’ll do for the project yet, but I’ll think of something. Come on, it’s nearly ten—you two are going to bed.” She tucked them into the guest bed, gave them two rag dolls from the shelf to cuddle with, sang them a lullaby, then tiptoed out into the hallway, wishing she could be a part of the little girls’ lives forever.

  Paige lingered at the door, listening to them whisper. While she waited on them to settle down, her gaze rested on one of her dolls perched on her bedroom dresser. She suddenly had a brainstorm. She’d design a child’s wardrobe. She had enough material for smaller articles of clothing, and if she kept the patterns simple, no zippers or elaborate stitching or gathers, she could finish them in one night. And she could give the clothes to the girls when she’d finished. Using the girls as her inspiration, she set to work, excited about the new designs whirling in her brain.

  Zeke called about midnight to tell her he needed to watch the German shepherd through the night.

  “The girls are sleeping. Just leave them here for the night,” Paige told him, purposefully omitting the details of her project crisis. And the fact that she would be up all night making a new one.

  “I appreciate this,” Zeke said, sounding tired.

  “Don’t worry about the girls. You can pick them up in the morning.” They said good-night and Paige grabbed the scissors, grateful she had work to do to keep her mind off Zeke.

  WHEN THE DOORBELL rang at seven o’clock the next morning, Paige staggered to the door holding a cup of coffee.

  “Morning.” Zeke sauntered in, looking sleepy-eyed and rumpled in the same jeans and shirt he’d worn the night before. He stared at her, his forehead furrowing. “What’s wrong, Paige? You look exhausted.”

  Paige yawned. “I am tired. I had a late night.”

  Zeke tensed, his panicked gaze shooting over her shoulder to scan the room. “How come? Did one of the girls get sick?”

  Paige shook her head. The girls bounced in, full of early morning energy. “Daddy, we made doll blankets for Molly and Sue.” They held up their creations, their faces glowing with pride.

  “We sewed ’em ourselves last night with Paige!” August exclaimed.

  “Great work.” Zeke examined the small stitches, then grinned at Paige appreciatively. “It was really nice of you to teach them how to sew. And to let them spend the night.”

  “No problem.” Paige poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and gestured in offering toward Zeke. He shrugged no.

  The girls scrunched their faces, whispering amongst themselves. Finally August piped up. “Did you tell Daddy about the mess?”

  Paige shook her head and whispered, “Shh. It’s okay.”

  “Did she tell daddy about what mess?” Zeke asked.

  Summer tugged on Zeke’s hand and pointed to the trash. “Henrietta messed up Paige’s dresses. She had to throw ’em away.”

  The girls talked at once, both giving elaborate versions of the harrowing night. When t
hey were finished, Zeke shuffled on his feet, looked mortified. “Paige, I’m sorry. What can I do to fix it?”

  “Nothing, Zeke. Everything worked out okay.”

  “Did you make a new dress?” the girls asked.

  Paige yawned. “Yep, a couple of new ones. I finished early this morning.”

  “You couldn’t have asked for more time?” Zeke asked.

  “It’s the end of the summer session, my last project.” She showed them the children’s outfits—a black broomstick skirt and small white blouse, a pair of shorts and tunic top and a full-length black jacket over a simple white jumper.

  “They’re so cute!” August said.

  “I love the skirt,” Summer cried. “Daddy, can we get one like it?”

  “Tell you what.” Paige knelt to hug both girls. “After my professor grades the project, you can have the outfits.”

  The girls squealed in delight.

  “You’re creative and way too generous,” Zeke said. “Especially after my dog caused you so much trouble.”

  A million emotions swirled through Paige, but she was too exhausted to explore them. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed again, as if they were both replaying snippets of their last disastrous conversation. He hadn’t called her generous then, but selfish. And she’d accused him of using her to baby-sit.

  The antique grandfather clock in the hallway chimed and Paige startled, realizing she had to dress for class. “I have to go,” she said, hoping Zeke would say more.

  But he studied her for a long moment, then nodded and said goodbye. And she was left in her big, suddenly too quiet house, wishing things were different, and suddenly feeling achingly alone.

  “WHAT?” PAIGE COULD hardly believe the compliments her final project had received. When Professor Davidson had asked her to stay after class to discuss her project, she was afraid he was going to give her a bad grade.

  “We need more designers in the children’s field,” her professor said. “Someone who not only knows fashion, but understands children and their needs. I’m giving you an A on the project.” Professor Davidson pulled out a business card. “And I’d like you to call and make an appointment with Blythe Johnson. She’s a fashion consultant who might be able to help you if you’re interested in this field. I think you have some real talent.”

  “If I’m interested,” Paige said, growing more and more excited. “I’d love to talk to her.”

  “She might even have an apprenticeship for you. If she likes your work, a showing at the Atlanta Apparel Mart might not be too far off in the future.”

  “You’re kidding! That would be incredible.”

  Professor Higdon nodded, her glasses wiggling on the tip of her nose. “I’m also putting your name in for one of the overseas grants. Good luck, Ms. Watkins.”

  Paige thanked the young black woman and walked outside in a state of shock. Maybe the catastrophe last night with her first project had been a blessing in disguise. She couldn’t wait to tell the girls! And Beverly. But what about Zeke? Would he be happy for her?

  She climbed in the VW and drove to the boutique, almost shouting the news to Beverly as she entered the shop.

  “Wonderful!” Beverly said. “I knew you could do it.”

  “Well, I have to meet with that Ms. Johnson first, but just thinking about a showing at the Apparel Mart is so exciting. And a chance to study abroad.”

  Beverly tapped her thumb against her bottom lip. “You know, I’ve been thinking about adding on to the store. Maybe a mother-daughter section.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No.” Beverly grinned. “As a matter of fact, I’ve had several requests from women for mother/daughter dresses in coordinating fabrics, for special occasions like Easter and Christmas.”

  “I could work up some designs,” Paige offered, her mind already spinning with visions of smocked dresses with elaborate stitched borders. Lacy collars, cross-stitched bunnies, hearts for Valentines…

  “Then get busy, girl. We’ll make a special corner for the display models, even have an open house. Can you make at least three different designs, then stitch them up in several sizes? We can advertise and take custom orders, too.”

  “Sure. How soon do you want them?”

  “Last week!”

  They both laughed. The rest of the afternoon spun by with a whirlwind of excited activity. Paige called the lady her professor suggested and set up an appointment. From the tone of the woman’s voice on the phone, she felt confident they would work something out. And she loved the idea of the mother-daughter dress designs!

  “Why don’t you leave a little early?” Beverly suggested. “Go celebrate.”

  “Thanks,” Paige said. She wanted to share the news. Then she paused, wondering what Zeke and the twins would say.

  Strains of a melancholy jazz song filled the silence as Paige drove, her earlier excitement fading as she approached home. Her empty house, the quiet, lonely rooms, the big yard with no children of her own to play in it, her dreams of designing clothes, all the long hours of working and planning—all for what?

  She was so distracted she pulled into the driveway, barely sparing a glance around the house and yard as she ambled up the sidewalk, her feet heavy, her mind contemplating why the happiness and elation she thought she would be experiencing felt diluted.

  Then she stuck her key in the door to unlock it, gasping in shock when the door swung open and she saw the contents of her home scattered across the floor. The vandalism had spread to her house, and the culprits had left a path of destruction in their wake.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zeke had just stepped from the shower when he heard someone pounding on his back door. The twins had gone home with a friend from day care and weren’t supposed be home until nine. Maybe it was Paige. No, he wouldn’t hope for that. Maybe Renee had changed her mind and decided to come home early. Or was it someone else responding to that confounded ad his daughters had displayed everywhere?

  The pounding grew louder so he hurriedly threw on a shirt and tugged on his jeans, barely zipping the pants and leaving the shirt hanging open. Whoever was knocking certainly was impatient. He took the steps two at a time, then swung the door open, still towel-drying his hair.

  Paige stood on his stoop, looking shaken and distressed, her green eyes filled with tears. His heart slammed against his ribs. “Paige, what’s wrong?”

  She collapsed in his arms, her voice a whisper against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her and soothed her with tender strokes. “Shh, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

  She sniffled, then pulled back slightly, still nestled in his embrace, but far enough so he could see into her eyes. “Someone broke into my house.”

  Panic sliced through him. He pushed her away from him, searching her for injuries. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She moved into his arms again as if she needed his reassurance. She felt soft and vulnerable, the wispy tendrils of her hair brushing across his chest. “It was those kids again, I guess.”

  “Did you see anyone?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “No,” she whispered. “But they left a mess. My…my dolls, some of them are broken.”

  He swallowed, not grasping the full meaning of her loss, but realizing the doll collection he’d seen must have some kind of sentimental value.

  “And they smashed my sewing machine and painted ugly words on my walls.”

  His temper flared, the senseless destruction now taking on a personal nature. The vandals had hurt Paige; they had hurt him. He cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her forehead, easing her hair from her face and trying to soothe her with soft words. “Have you called the police?”

  She shook her head. A strange burst of male pride assaulted him—she’d come to him first. Not the police, and not her security guard boyfriend.

  She shivered in his arms and he rubbed his hands over her shoulders, nuzzling his face into the thick tresses
of her hair. “You want me to call them?”

  As if she just realized where she was, she glanced around the kitchen. “Where are the girls?”

  “They’re at a friend’s house. They won’t be home until later.”

  She sighed, obviously relieved. “Good. I don’t want them to see the house like it is.”

  Again, anger churned through him. He realized with a great deal of admiration that in spite of Paige’s own personal upheaval, she’d wanted to protect the girls first. Shame hit him for ever comparing her to Renee.

  “I’ll call the police,” he said. “Then I’ll go with you to your house to meet them, okay?”

  A small smile of relief curved her mouth and he had the desperate urge to kiss her senseless and lay her down and make love to her until all her reservations had disappeared, until she knew that the two of them belonged together. But now wasn’t the time. If they wanted to catch these hoodlum kids they needed to act quickly.

  “Here, sit down and drink some water while I phone the police,” he suggested, tucking her into one of his wooden chairs while he called.

  A few minutes later, his anger surfaced again when he witnessed the destruction in Paige’s house. Books and clothes were strewn everywhere. They had dumped food items on the floor and spread ketchup on the counters, used lipstick to write foul words on the walls, and broken three of her dolls. “My dad gave me this one right before he died,” Paige said quietly as she stared at the shredded doll clothes.

  “We’ll dust for prints,” the officer said. “But in the other break-ins we haven’t had any luck.”

  Paige trembled as she nodded at the officer. “I appreciate whatever you can do.”

  When the officers had completed their work and left, Paige turned to Zeke, her eyes still misty. “Thanks for coming with me, Zeke.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry they did this to you, Paige, so sorry.”

  “I guess I should start cleaning up.” Paige wrapped her arms around his waist, then laid her head on his chest. He inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo, the feminine scent of Paige that coiled his body into knots, and he silently wished he never had to let her go.