Almost Twins

by Gail Sattler

  He expected Adelle to sit with him on the couch, but instead she stood in front of him. “You have a choice. You can either hold both babies, or pop the popcorn.”

  His mouth opened but no sound came out.

  “Come on, Dennis. If we don’t do it now, it will never get done. Take your pick.”

  He glanced around the stark and functional cabin. He was used to gaiety and decorations galore at Christmas, including never-ending Christmas carols playing in the background. From the way time disappeared so quickly when tending to the babies, he had a feeling she was right. If they didn’t squeeze in the time it took to do the popcorn now, there would never be time between sleeping and feeding schedules and other baby duties. At this rate, they wouldn’t finish decorating until next Christmas.

  He turned to the stove. Judging from his past cooking experiences, if he was the one to pop the popcorn it would only be a color suitable for a snowman’s eyes and buttons, not for decorating a Christmas tree.

  Supported in Adelle’s arms, Rachel gurgled and made some other baby noises he couldn’t describe, but at least she wasn’t crying.

  Dennis gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile. “I’ll take the babies.”

  He didn’t want to analyze her expression as he shuffled Raymond to make room for Rachel in his lap. Before he was completely sure he had them both securely nestled, Adelle turned and ran into the kitchen. He heard the pouf of the flame, and a minute later, the sizzle when she dropped a handful of popcorn into the pot. It fizzled and crackled, and the unpopped kernels rasped in the bottom as she shook the pot back and forth over the flame.

  Dennis wanted to turn and watch Adelle, but he was too scared to move. His heart pounded in his chest when one of the babies made some kind of goo-goo sound, and they both wiggled. Not one, but two tiny lives were literally in his hands, both depending on him, trusting him not to drop them or hurt them in any way, trusting that their needs would be met.

  He wondered if this was what married life was like before the availability of electricity, with the wife in the kitchen and the husband sitting in the living room next to the woodstove with the children.

  Not daring to move, he kept all his attention focused intently on the babies in his lap. He could feel the glow of the heat on his face. After his adventure outside in the bitter cold, he was grateful to be near the source of heat. Behind him a few kernels exploded. The popping tempo increased to a constant nattering against the pot lid. He didn’t dare to turn his head to look, as much as he wanted to.

  It felt homey and comfortable, and he liked it. After the rat race and the bustle at the office, he liked to come home to a quiet house. Although, with a baby in the house, he doubted his home would ever be quiet again. Often the only reason he’d gone out with Joanna was because his home was too quiet and too empty, especially on the weekends, when his housekeeper wasn’t there. He couldn’t picture Joanna settled into the kitchen, happily cooking something so mundane as popcorn, especially the old-fashioned way.

  Dennis squeezed his eyes shut. He had promised himself that he would no longer think of Joanna. However, he wasn’t really thinking of her in a way of missing her or in any way regretting that it was over. Every time he thought of her, it was another realization of how they really weren’t suited after all, and thankfulness that he’d seen it in time.

  “Popcorn’s ready. Now all we have to do is wait for it to cool and we can make a chain and hang it on our new Christmas tree.”

  Her words made his heart skip a beat. She had said “our” tree, not his tree, or the tree, but our tree.

  Adelle appeared in front of him and removed Rachel from his lap, smiling as she gave Rachel a tender little hug. Inwardly, Dennis wished she would smile at him like that.

  He lifted Raymond to his chest, cradling his padded bottom with one hand and bracing the back of his head with the other. Together, he and Adelle walked to the pathetic assembled mass of branches and firewood. She was right. It was their tree, and this was going to be their Christmas.

  A Christmas he would never forget.

  He cleared his throat, but he couldn’t get rid of the tight sensation. “I’m thirsty. Do you mind if I have something to drink before we continue?”

  “Help yourself. I think I’ll make myself some tea. Do you want some?”

  “No thanks, I’m not really a tea drinker. If it isn’t coffee, I’d prefer something cold.”

  Adelle cradled Rachel with one arm while she filled a pot with water and turned on the burner. Dennis walked to the fridge and, using his newly acquired balancing skills, held Raymond with one arm while he opened the fridge with the other. He searched for the milk, finally finding it at the back. He awkwardly piled the containers that stood in front of the milk onto the counter.

  “Dennis! What a great idea!”

  He blinked and stared at the milk carton in his hand, which he had finally reached. He thought he would drink the milk since Adelle couldn’t have it, and leave the apple juice for her. He didn’t think his idea worthy of comment or praise.

  “We can have red popcorn!”

  He closed one eye and stared at the milk container. At least he thought it was a milk container.

  Before he could figure it out, Adelle appeared beside him and picked up one of the containers he had stacked on the counter.

  “We can color the popcorn red with the juice from the beets!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Red is a Christmas color. Think of how pretty it will look.”

  “I think white will look just fine. Like snow. It’s popcorn.”

  She made a sound almost like a snort, which he found rather amusing. “Come on. There’s enough white snow outside. We need some color. Besides, where is your sense of adventure?”

  “I used up all my adventure getting the branches from outside.”

  “Then you can hold Rachel, and I’ll do it myself.”

  This time, he gathered his wits before it was too late. “Never mind. I’ll help you. Just tell me what to do.”

  “We need something to spray the beet juice on the popcorn without getting it too wet, but using enough to color it.”

  “Really, Adelle, I think white will be just fine. Think of how nicely the white will show up against the dark green branches.”

  Her enthusiastic smile dropped and her suddenly-sad eyes tore at his heartstrings. “Okay, I give up. You’re right, red popcorn will look much better.”

  She smiled again, and he thought he’d been set up. For some reason, he didn’t mind.

  He moved aside while she rummaged through the cupboards. Her voice echoed while she poked her head into a lower cupboard, sitting on the floor with Rachel in her lap. “I can’t find anything. I think I’ll have to sprinkle it on by hand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll end up with red hands for a while, but it will be worth it. I’ll use my fingers. But you’ll have to hold Rachel again.”

  He still wasn’t used to holding one baby, never mind two, but he couldn’t refuse her, not after all she’d done for him. Besides, he didn’t want to end up with red hands.

  “Do I get to watch?” This time he remained standing while he balanced Raymond, then waited for her to position Rachel. He wondered if, once he arrived at home with only one baby after spending the Christmas season juggling two, he would find handling one not so bad.

  Adelle cupped a hand and carefully poured a few spoonfuls of beet juice into her palm. She dipped the fingers of her other hand into the juice and began to splatter it onto the popcorn. She repeated the process until she had used all the red liquid in the beet jar.

  “This didn’t work as well as I hoped. The popcorn isn’t really red, it’s more spotted with pink, but it’s still kind of pretty.”

  Dennis glanced at the beets in the jar, which didn’t look the same without the liquid. “I’m never going to be able to think of beets in the same way again.” He turned back to the tray of
popcorn. “It’s not really pink, either. The sleeper Rachel is dressed in, that’s pink. But the popcorn isn’t really red, either. I don’t know what color it is. Now your hands. They’re red.”

  She wiggled the reddened fingers of her right hand in front of his nose. “It was worth it. As soon as the popcorn is dry we can string it together. While we’re waiting, we can decorate something else. By the time Christmas Day comes, you won’t recognize the place.”

  Dennis doubted that, but he didn’t have the heart to contradict her.

  To his surprise, she pulled a bucket out of the closet. “I thought we were going to decorate, we’ve already cleaned the place up.”

  She pulled a sponge out of the bottom of the bucket. “Look!”

  “Uh-huh. . .it’s a sponge.”

  “Isn’t this a pretty color?”

  It looked like an ordinary blue sponge.

  She tossed it back into the bottom of the bucket, then pulled out a bag containing three brand new sponges from the back of the cupboard, one blue, one green, and one yellow. “This is our next decoration project.”

  Dennis couldn’t hold back a smile. “That’s a great idea. I’ll get the scissors.”

  He rested Raymond in his car seat, Adelle laid Rachel into her car seat, and they got to work, Dennis cutting sponges into varying shapes, and Adelle making popcorn strings.

  Dennis did his best to use every piece, wasting nothing. By the time he was finished, he had a pile of twenty-four colorful decorations, leaving him quite proud of himself.

  They walked in circles around the tree, carefully positioning the popcorn garland until it was set exactly right. Although it was only thread holding the popcorn strings together, Dennis thought it added some stability to his questionable construction.

  Rachel started to fret, so Adelle picked her up, leaving Dennis to position the sponges as he saw fit. Adelle offered several suggestions, but it took two hands to poke the sponges onto the pine needles, sometimes taking many tries before the sponges would finally adhere to the branches.

  “She’s getting too fussy. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Dennis wasn’t ready to give up, especially since Raymond was being cooperative. The only other item Adelle had left out for future decorating was the roll of foil. He picked it up and unwound the roll to discover that only a few feet of foil remained, meaning whatever he made, it would have to be single thickness to make it go farther.

  Very carefully, he cut the length into twelve squares, folded them, and began to cut snowflakes, just like he had done with construction paper in grade school. Cautiously, he poked holes and created intricate snowy shapes. Then, slowly and delicately, he picked the layers apart and opened his first foil design.

  By the time he heard the bedroom door creak open, he had completed three snowflakes.

  She lowered the sleeping Rachel into the playpen. “Those are nice. You’ve done a lovely job.”

  Dennis grinned, feeling rather silly about how her compliment of his questionable artwork on this children’s project affected him.

  Adelle ran her fingers on one of the branches. “I think they’re too big to put on the tree. Why don’t we use thread and hang them to decorate the rest of the cabin?”

  “Don’t you think there’s enough snow outside, without making it snow inside?”

  “It’s going to stop snowing sometime. It’s not going to last forever.”

  Dennis stopped cutting and turned his head toward the window. For now, the snow was still falling fast and thick, but she was right, it wouldn’t last forever. And when it stopped, this small part of the world would start to dig itself out. The power would go on and the phone service would be restored, and he would be that much closer to being able to go home. Strangely, not only was he no longer in a rush to leave, he didn’t want to leave at all.

  “How would you like to keep doing that, and I’ll make supper? I’m really hungry.”

  “That sounds great. But don’t go to a lot of trouble. Just do something simple and quick, so we can finish doing this while it’s still light. The light is already starting to fade.”

  He lowered the snowflake-in-progress to his knee. “Oh, and Adelle, thank you.”

  “Dennis. . .”

  He couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Oops. I forgot, I wasn’t supposed to thank you for anything anymore.”

  “That’s right.”

  He put down the scissors and the folded piece of foil and followed Adelle, who was already in the kitchen and starting to prepare supper.

  “In that case, instead of thanking you, let me do this.”

  She backed out of the fridge, her arms full, balancing a package of lunch meat, a loaf of bread, jars of mustard and mayonnaise, a couple of wrapped slices of cheese, and a head of lettuce.

  Dennis stepped closer. He had never met anyone like Adelle. At first he had thought her appearance rather ordinary, but after spending so much intense time with her, he’d changed his mind. She was quite pretty, but not in a movie star or fashion-model sense of beauty. Between her messy hair, the casual and rumpled clothing, including her pink fuzzy slippers, an armful of groceries, and the total lack of make-up, she was the antithesis of what anyone could call sophisticated.

  “What?” she asked.

  What she lacked in elegance, she more than overcame with her honest charm and caring heart.

  He cupped her cheeks with his hands and rubbed his thumbs into her hair behind her ears. She had the kindest eyes he’d ever seen, and when she smiled, he felt its warmth all the way down to his toes. He’d never experienced such beauty from the inside out.

  “This,” he whispered, his voice thick. Before he thought fully about what he was doing, he leaned down and covered her soft mouth with his.

  Ten

  Adelle didn’t know how she managed not to drop anything, nor did she know how her knees kept her upright.

  She also didn’t know why he was kissing her. The only thing she did know was that she shouldn’t have kissed him back. But knowing that didn’t stop her from feeling the loss when he stopped.

  Very slowly, his hands drifted away from her face and he backed up a step. His smile told her he had enjoyed the brief encounter as much as she had.

  Adelle tightened her grip on her groceries. Part of her wanted to know why he did it, but a greater part was too afraid to think about it.

  Although she didn’t know much about him, whatever she felt for him went beyond sympathy for the loss of his brother and the shock of instant adoptive fatherhood. They shared many common interests, and they were never lacking for stimulating conversation. Other than the functions of child care, there was nothing else to do but talk. Their discussions ranged from light and funny topics to downright serious ones. At the same time, they both knew when to stop—before they crossed an unspoken line that was too personal, too intense, or simply uncomfortable.

  It had been a wonderful surprise when she woke up from her nap to discover his makeshift Christmas tree. Knowing how he braved the snow and sub-zero temperature to gather the pine branches made her appreciate the little tree even more. His ingenuity at using the dental floss to hold it together had impressed her. She certainly would have never thought of it.

  She also couldn’t think of many men who would actually sit down and make decorations, especially considering the limited choice of materials available. It pleased her to think he might have gone along with her because she wanted it so badly. The decorations were always a big part of the Christmas season and, this being her first Christmas as a parent, it was important to her that this year be special.

  On the other hand, no matter how nice he seemed, no matter how well they got along, and even though he appeared to be a good Christian, she still didn’t completely trust him. Her counselor had helped her deal with her mistrust of men in general, but she still had difficulties. That hurt, because she had always had a trusting nature before Shawn violated her. Now she always used extreme caution in d
ealing with men, especially strangers, but Dennis seemed to be stripping away her need to protect herself. . .

  He smiled, but made no attempt to touch her again. “I think I’ll get back to my indoor snowfall before it gets too dark to see what I’m doing.”

  Making the simple sandwiches gave Adelle the opportunity to watch Dennis without him being aware that he was being studied.

  He sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully and diligently snipping the foil snowflakes and then gently smoothing them flat when he was finished with each one.

  Raymond watched him, almost as fascinated as she was. He watched every movement Dennis made, especially when he smoothed out a new snowflake and slowly waved it in front of Raymond’s face.

  “Hey, look!” he called out without turning to her. “I think Raymond likes them. I must be doing a good job.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I agree with Raymond. They look really good.”

  He stood, brushing a myriad of foil snippets off his pants. “These snowflakes would rival those made by the most talented six year old.”

  He measured out pieces of thread for each and proceeded to distribute them around the cabin wherever anything could dangle, starting with the lampshade, the doorknobs, and a curtain rod. When he had only one snowflake left, he stepped into the kitchen area.

  Adelle backed up, but he didn’t seem to notice her reaction to his proximity. He tied the last snowflake to the fridge door handle, then rubbed his palm over his stomach. “That was a hard job. I sure worked up an appetite.”

  She looked at her sandwiches. Never had it taken her so long to make two little sandwiches. “Here you go. They’re just waiting to be eaten.”

  He helped carry the plates and glasses to the table, talking over his shoulder as he walked. “It’s still snowing.”

  “In these parts, it isn’t unheard of for snow to fall for days. We’re not that far from Jasper, as the crow flies. The skiing will be great for the Christmas holiday crowd. Do you ski?”

  He shook his head as he laid the plates on the table, then pulled out a chair for her to sit down. “No. I’ve always meant to, but I never seem to have the time. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and then the winter is over.”