The Gift of Twins

by Gabrielle Meyer

Ben couldn’t look this man in the face as he recounted his life. Phillipe had left heartache in his wake, but Ben didn’t think his father would ever truly understand how his actions had affected him. Ben set down his stew, knowing he could never stomach it.

  “I didn’t return to trapping, but I did stay in the fur trade. I became an outfitter and made yet another fortune.”

  While his father had gained wealth, Ben had received charity from the Ayers and other missionaries who had taken pity on him. Was his father trying to rub salt in his wounded soul?

  Phillippe looked down at his coffee mug, grief in the lines of his face. “My son, Sébastien, was to inherit my business and all my wealth, but he died, very recently, and I find I am without an heir.”

  Ben finally met his gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Phillipe leaned forward. “I need you, Benjamin. You are my only hope to keep the Lahaye legacy alive. I need heirs—as many as I can get.”

  “Heirs?”

  “Sons, grandsons,” he said with a robust voice. “Strapping young men to carry on the business.”

  “I don’t have any sons.”

  “But surely you will.” Phillippe set down his coffee mug and turned his pleading gaze to Ben. “If you return to Montreal with me, you will have the pick of young ladies to choose from. You will marry into one of the best families in Montreal and you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams. Everything you’ve ever wanted or needed will be at your fingertips. All you need to do is say yes.”

  Confusion and anger melded inside Ben’s head, making him feel as if he was being pummeled by dozens of fists. He stood, his heart beating hard and his lungs wanting to burst with the need for fresh air. “Do you know what you did to me? Do you understand the pain of growing up, unwanted and abandoned? Knowing I was the illegitimate child of a man bent on fortune and dishonest gain? You saddled me with baggage I wasn’t meant to carry, yet I overcame everything. And now—now you want me to give up the life I’ve created and go to Montreal to live the life you created?” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “I won’t deign to even give you an answer.”

  “Benjamin.” Phillippe stood. “You must at least consider—”

  Ben strode toward the front door, needing to get out of the confinement of his home. “Do not ask me again.”

  He opened the door, walked out onto his porch, and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Taking a huge gulp of air, he bent forward and placed his hands on his knees, too overcome to do anything but breathe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The weather was warmer than it had been since Emmy’s arrival, causing the snow to melt and her mood to brighten. She held the twins’ hands as they walked home from school, singing “One Horse Open Sleigh” and laughing at the silly song.

  Over the last couple of weeks, Emmy had met several people from town. She smiled and acknowledged many of them as they walked past the grocer’s, the Northern Hotel, the livery stable and various other establishments.

  As they went by the bank, Adam Russell came to the window and waved at Emmy. She smiled back, thankful that he wasn’t angry at her refusal to attend the ball with him. He had kept his distance since asking, which she appreciated, but she didn’t want to lose his friendship altogether.

  “There’s Mr. Ben.” Zeb pointed at the parsonage up ahead.

  Emmy’s smile widened at the thought of seeing Ben—but something didn’t seem right. Ben was bent at the waist, his hands on his thighs as if he was in some sort of distress.

  The boys ran ahead of Emmy and she hurried through the slush and mud puddles, her gaze on Ben.

  When he saw the boys, he straightened and tousled their hair as they ran by him and into the house, no doubt hoping Mrs. Carver had baked them some fresh cookies.

  Ben met Emmy’s concerned gaze, but instead of a smile, his face was lined with grief.

  She rushed the last few yards. “What’s wrong? Is it Mrs. Carver? One of the parishioners?”

  Ben shook his head and stepped off the porch. “I’m sorry, Emmy, but I need some space.”

  He started around the parsonage, but Emmy trailed behind, needing to know what was troubling him.

  Ben followed a path between the parsonage and the church and opened the door to his barn.

  Emmy raced to keep up with him and entered the barn, not willing to let him be alone. “Ben, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  He led Ginger out of her stall and then picked up a pitchfork. “It’s my father.”

  “Your father?” Emmy walked across the small barn and stood outside the stall. “Did something happen to him?”

  Ben mucked out the stall, thrusting the pitchfork with surprising force. “He’s here. In the house.”

  Emmy’s eyes grew wide. “Your father is here?”

  He pitched the soiled hay into a wheelbarrow. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Ben stopped and leaned against the handle of the pitchfork, breathing hard. “In short? He wants me to return with him to Montreal and become his heir.”

  “His heir?” Emmy frowned as dozens of thoughts cascaded through her mind, though only one question was worth asking. “Will you go?”

  He paused as he began to work at the hay again, tilting his head at her like she’d just said something preposterous. “Of course I won’t go.”

  Relief made Emmy weak. He wouldn’t leave.

  “I don’t know what to do with him.” Thrust, pitch, thrust, pitch.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Part of me wants to send him away immediately, the other part wants me to invite him to stay—yet, what do I expect? Reconciliation?” Fear weighed down his countenance and he stopped and looked at Emmy, again. “I’m afraid I can’t forgive him. All these years, I thought I had, but when he showed up, and I had to look him in the face, I realized I’m still very angry.”

  “Of course you’re angry.” Emmy stepped around the stall and placed her hand on his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with being angry, Ben. The Bible says that there were times when Jesus was angry—but He never sinned in his anger. That’s what you must remember. Work through your anger, but as you do, show your father the love of God.”

  He was silent, but she detected a subtle nod.

  She wanted to comfort him and offer her strength, yet, she was afraid if she did, she might not want to leave his embrace.

  “I never thought I’d see him again,” he said quietly, lifting a pile of fresh hay from the corner to spread it in Ginger’s stall. “I feel like I’ve relived the past twenty-five years in a single hour.”

  “Maybe, with time, you’ll find a way to forgive him.”

  “How much time?”

  “As long as he’s willing to give you.”

  He finished with Ginger’s stall and led the horse back into place. Petting her, he shook his head. “So it’s up to him all over again? I’m supposed to let him stay as long as he wants, hoping he can somehow make things up to me? Why can’t I send him away and be in control of the situation for once in my life?”

  “Is that really what you want?” Emmy asked. “Does it matter who’s in control? You’re both adults now. Both of you can come and go as you please. You’re no longer a child at his mercy.”

  Ben took a limp carrot from a bin along the wall and gave it to Ginger, his gaze on the horse, his voice low. “Why do I feel like the child he abandoned all over again?”

  Probably the same reason she relived William’s death every time she felt threatened by someone getting too close. “It’s fear.” She joined Ben to pet Ginger’s coat and sighed. “There are people and situations that make us feel helpless, and when we find ourselves facing them again, we’re afraid history will repeat itself, but this time we won’t survive if it does.”
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br />   Ben looked over at Emmy, his brown-eyed gaze filled with empathy. “I’m sorry for what you endured when William died.”

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She would not cry. She had cried enough tears to last a lifetime. Instead, she forced herself to speak past the emotions. “And I’m sorry that your father hurt you.”

  She didn’t know if he opened his arms to her, or if she invited him, but she found herself in his powerful embrace, her face pressed against his chest, inhaling his scent as the tears trailed down her cheeks. She could hear the steady beat of his heart and feel him take a breath in and then let it out again. It felt good and right to be in Ben’s arms, to share her burdens and to shoulder his.

  He placed his cheek against the top of her head, his arms firmly wrapped around her. She sensed he needed her strength just as much as she longed for his, yet she didn’t feel as if he was asking for more.

  Right now, it would be enough that they had friendship. It had to be enough.

  Emmy stepped away and wiped at her cheeks, a nervous smile on her lips. “I should return to the house before the boys come looking for us.”

  Ben watched her, his expression hard to read. “Would you like to meet my father?”

  “I would.”

  He walked around her and held the door open. “I can’t ask him to stay right now. I still plan to travel to Owatonna tomorrow to look for the boys’ father.”

  “What will you tell him?”

  “That I made plans before he arrived, and I can’t change those plans because he decided to show up after twenty-five years. If he wants to stay at the hotel and wait for my return, he’s welcome to, but I’m still going.”

  She couldn’t blame Ben for sticking with his plans. They needed to locate Malachi Trask before Mrs. Carver’s departure, and the sooner the better.

  They entered through the kitchen door and found the boys at the table, milk and cookies in front of them, as Mrs. Carver bustled about the room, banging pots and pans together.

  “There will be a guest for supper tonight,” Ben said as Emmy passed into the kitchen ahead of him.

  “I’m well aware of our guest, dearie. He’s in the front room twiddling his thumbs as we speak.” She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the door. “Are you going to entertain him, or should I put him to work making biscuits?”

  “We’ll go.” Ben closed the back door and crossed the kitchen, waiting for Emmy to follow.

  He pushed open the door, allowing her to enter the room first.

  Mr. Lahaye sat on Ben’s rocker, his elbows on his knees, as he stared into the fire. He turned his head when he heard them and immediately stood.

  She could see where Ben got his height and broad shoulders. She could even see some of Ben’s handsome features in this stranger, though Ben’s high cheekbones and darker skin was probably from his mother.

  Ben closed the kitchen door and stood beside Emmy. He appeared as if he was gathering his strength before he addressed his father.

  “May I present Miss Wilkes?” Ben asked his father. “She is our local schoolteacher and a boarder in my home.”

  Mr. Lahaye stepped forward and Emmy extended her gloved hand, but he didn’t shake it, instead, he lifted it to his lips and placed a kiss on top. “C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, mademoiselle. It is a pleasure to meet you, miss.” His charm was unforced and she suspected she would have liked him, had she not known who he was or what he had done to Ben.

  “The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Lahaye.” She curtsied as she had been taught by her mother.

  Mr. Lahaye looked between Ben and Emmy, a question in his gaze. Did he suspect they were a couple? If he did, was that why she could see disappointment in his eyes?

  * * *

  The next morning, Ben woke up hours before anyone else would rise. He had sent his father to the Northern Hotel the night before and said his goodbyes to Emmy and the boys before they went to bed. He didn’t know how long it would be until he returned from Owatonna, but he hoped it would only be a few days. His time was running short with his temporary family, and he didn’t want to waste a single day with them.

  Mrs. Carver had packed his food and he had placed all his things by the kitchen door so he could leave the house without waking anyone.

  He lifted his saddlebags to go outside, but a creak in the floorboards stopped him. He looked up and found Emmy standing at the door, her hair around her shoulders, a modest robe cinched tight at her waist. It took everything for Ben not to stare.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked as he set his bags on the floor.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “That makes two of us, then.”

  “Is that why you’re getting such an early start?”

  Ben let his gaze feast on her beautiful blond hair. It was thick and curly, and it extended past her waist. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how it would feel to run his hands through the silky strands—but he stopped his wayward thoughts before he got too carried away. “The sooner I get there the sooner I can come back.”

  She took a tentative step into the kitchen, but stopped in the middle of the room, keeping a respectable distance between them. “Godspeed, Ben. I will pray for you every chance I get.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms again, to inhale the sweet fragrance she wore. Never, in all the years he had been a circuit rider, had he wanted to stay more than he did in this moment. “Thank you.”

  “Will you be safe?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Do you have enough provisions?”

  He glanced at the bulging saddlebags. “More than enough.”

  Emmy surveyed his things. “I suppose there’s nothing left to say, except goodbye.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, the bright moon illuminating her features. “Goodbye, Em.” With a nod of farewell, he lifted his saddlebags and opened the back door.

  “Wait!”

  Ben turned and watched as she raced across the kitchen to throw her arms around him. He inhaled a sharp breath and dropped his saddlebags, and wrapped his arms around her slender waist. She melded perfectly into his body and felt like she belonged there. He held her tight, not wanting to ever let her go. No one had ever cared this much about his comings and goings in the past, and the knowledge that she cared was enough to make him clear his throat, lest his emotions get the better of him.

  She pulled away and took several steps back, her hands on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just want you to come back safe.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He wanted to follow her retreat and take her into his arms again—but he refrained. Instead, he simply said, “Thank you.”

  He sensed she was embarrassed by her hasty actions, so he picked up his bags and slipped out the back door before either one of them said something they would regret.

  A man stood by the barn, nonchalantly leaning against the siding, a saddled horse tethered to a tree nearby. The darkness of the predawn hour made it hard to see his features, though Ben knew exactly who he was.

  “What are you doing here?” Ben asked as he walked past his father and into the barn where Ginger greeted him with a whinny.

  “I thought you might like some company.” Phillipe followed him into the barn. “It makes more sense than me sitting here with nothing to do.”

  Ben filled Ginger’s feed bag and began to brush her down, the full moon offering enough light to see by. “I don’t need company.”

  Phillippe leaned against Ginger’s stall and chewed on a clean piece of straw. “Then I’ll ride along to be an extra gun in case there’s trouble.”

  With one last swipe, Ben finished brushing his horse and then he took the saddle blanket off the rack and placed it on Ginger’s back. “The
trails have been clear for the past year, and I haven’t heard of any trouble. I don’t need an extra gun.”

  “Maybe I just want some time with my son.”

  Everything within Ben recoiled at being called this man’s son. The warmth he felt from Emmy’s farewell was quickly replaced by the frost from this encounter. “I don’t want you to come.”

  Ben lifted the saddle from its stand and placed it on Ginger’s back. He set the stirrup over the top and let down the straps, and then he fastened them together, pulling them tight.

  Phillippe tossed the hay aside and joined Ben, securing the saddlebags behind the saddle. “We have a lot to discuss, Benjamin. I’d like if you’d give me the honor of accompanying you on your journey.”

  “We don’t have anything to discuss. I’m not going to Montreal with you.”

  “Montreal is not the only thing we need to talk about.”

  Ben took the bridle off the peg and placed it over Ginger’s head, securing it in her mouth. “There’s nothing else to talk about.”

  Phillippe rested his large hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I disagree.”

  Ben stiffened under his father’s touch. More than anything, he wanted peace. The Bible admonished him to seek peace and pursue it. Peace was a Fruit of the Spirit and something Christ spoke of so often in the Bible, Ben couldn’t deny it was important. How would he have peace with his father if he didn’t give him a chance? With a resigned sigh, Ben nodded. “Fine.”

  Phillippe didn’t say anything, but Ben sensed his relief by the way his shoulders loosened and the new purpose behind helping Ben prepare to leave.

  After untying Ginger, Ben backed her out of her stall and out the wide doors of the barn. The moon was low on the horizon and the first blush of dawn was visible in the eastern sky, making the stars fade.

  Phillipe mounted his gelding and pulled on the reins to turn it around to face Ben.

  “I plan to ride as hard and as fast as Ginger will allow,” Ben said to Phillipe, pulling himself into the saddle. “I want to make good time so I can return as soon as possible.”

  “To the teacher?” The question was filled with curiosity and a hint of disapproval. But why would his father disapprove of Emmy? He hardly knew her.