A Future for His Twins

by Susanne Dietze

  Nora nodded and folded her little hands under her chin. Logan bowed his head. Faith shut her eyes and prayed aloud for God to comfort and heal Roscoe, and help the veterinarian to diagnose his ailment.

  “Amen,” the twins echoed her, one after another.

  Faith asked them about their first day in their new kindergarten classes yesterday while they worked. After a while, Nora reached for more coins, but something made her stick her tongue out. “This one’s gross.”

  “Let me see.” Faith pulled the quarter closer with her fingertip. It was sticky and partially coated with once-white paper. Most people would toss a coin like this, or spend it as fast as possible, but sometimes guck hid treasures. She scraped at the tacky stuff with her fingernail and uncovered an image of a Revolutionary figure playing a drum. “Look, guys. A bicentennial quarter.”

  Logan hopped up. “Is it worth a million dollars?”

  “No, it’s worth a quarter. But it’s neat, anyway.”

  “Why?” Logan peered at it.

  “It commemorates the anniversary of American independence.” Faith explained about the Bicentennial in 1976. “It may not be worth more than twenty-five cents, but whenever I see one of these, it reminds me of an important event in history. That’s a treasure, even if it’s not a million dollars.”

  Logan didn’t look convinced, which made Faith laugh. “Yeah, a million dollars could be nice, too. Anyway, we’re almost done here. While you two finish, shall I get us a snack?”

  “What kind of snack?” Logan’s eyes widened.

  “I have cookies. How does that sound?”

  “Are they chocolate?”

  “Chocolate chip.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “What if a customer comes in?” Nora looked worried. “Should I sell them a chair?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think we need to worry about it. The rain seems to be keeping customers off Main Street today. If someone comes, though, I’ll hear the door and I’ll be right out.”

  “Good.” Nora sighed in relief. “I don’t know how to use the credit card thing yet.”

  Biting back a grin, Faith washed up at the sink and prepared a small paper plate of cookies—two for each of them. In the cupboard where she kept her tea and sugar, she pulled out a canister of instant lemonade mix. Not her favorite, but the kids would indubitably like it better than the hot tea in the urn. Hopefully, Tom wouldn’t mind her plying his kids with sugar.

  She didn’t always know what to do with kids, but when she was young, she’d loved sorting buttons and coins with her grandma, which gave her the idea for this “job” today. The kids seemed to like it, too. They were sweet. Funny. Weird how she was so at odds with their bossy dad, but she felt nothing but warm fuzzies for the twins.

  She carried out a small pitcher of lemonade, three paper cups and the plate of cookies. “Here we are. Do you guys want to wash up first? Some of those coins were grimy. Oh, Bettina’s back.” The cat was sitting on Nora’s lap, eyes half shut in pleasure as the little girl rubbed the top of her head.

  “I told her about Roscoe, and she’s worried about him, too,” Nora said.

  “Can we go to the big boulder after our snack?” Logan glanced out at the rain.

  “I think we’d better stay here. You like the boulder, though?”

  “It’s in the park and I want to climb it and be king of it,” he said, as if Faith didn’t know about the big rock in Hughes Park. It was the very thing that gave the creek its widow’s peak, after all. His enthusiasm was infectious, though.

  “That’d be fun, but I don’t think we’re supposed to climb it.”

  “I want to make my toy cars drive down it.”

  “Maybe your dad can help you make a ramp for your cars sometime. It’d be smaller, but still fun. Now, do you want a cookie?”

  Logan stood up, presumably to go wash. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Right through there.” Faith pointed. “Want to go wash up as well, Nora?”

  “In a minute.” Nora continued petting the cat. “You know what, Miss Faith?”

  “What?” Faith took a cookie and savored the chocolate chunks in it. Her favorite.

  “Roscoe and Bettina are friends, right?”

  The cat and dog had met one time, but who was she to argue? “They did seem to get along pretty well.”

  “Roscoe didn’t bark, and Bettina didn’t scratch. And they’re a dog and a cat.” Nora emphasized the nouns. “They’re supposed to fight. You and Daddy fight because you both want the store next door, but maybe you should be friends like Roscoe and Bettina.”

  Shame filled Faith’s throat, leaving little room for another bite of cookie. She’d known the kids had heard the stuff about him not being nice, but she’d hoped they didn’t quite comprehend the magnitude of her and Tom’s disagreement.

  There went that idea.

  Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat. Not because she was wrong to be upset that Tom had tried to ramrod her about the schoolhouse, no sir, but because she’d lost her temper in front of his kids. She’d said some things that weren’t too charitable, too. So had he, but she couldn’t control others’ actions, and she’d not modeled the best behavior for the kids.

  Faith scraped for words to say, even as Logan returned, smelling like lavender hand soap. She took a gulp of lukewarm lemonade, hoping it would loosen the tightness in her throat, but she was saved by the store door opening. Tom already?

  Nope, although the woman in the rain-spattered fuchsia pantsuit shared Tom’s wavy black hair and cautious expression as she entered the store.

  “Grammy!” Nora shouted, sending Bettina scurrying from her lap.

  Elena Santos held her arms out to her grandkids. “Hello, darlings. Playing tea party?”

  “No way.” Logan grimaced. “I don’t do that.”

  “It’s a lemonade party, Grammy,” Nora corrected.

  “They’ve been big helpers.” Faith extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Faith.”

  “Elena. So nice of you to watch the kids for Tom. He asked me to come get them. He said he’d text you.”

  Faith withdrew her phone from her pocket. “Not yet, but I’ll text him just to let him know—oh, here it is.” The message appeared. “My mom is coming to get the kids. Roscoe is improving already. Thanks again,” she read aloud.

  Another text followed.

  I’m sorry for causing offense. My only excuse is trying to do what I think is right for my kids, but I went too far. And for that, I’m sorry.

  “Sorry to trouble you, Faith.” Elena’s comment drew Faith’s attention from her phone. With brisk motions, she assisted the kids into their jackets.

  “It was no trouble. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

  “Tell Bettina bye.” Nora rushed to Faith, arms extended. Faith bent to hug the little girl. Wow, Nora gave her all in this hug, squeezing so hard it pinched Faith’s ribs.

  “Yeah,” Logan echoed. “Tell her bye.”

  Faith didn’t initiate a hug. It was Logan’s choice, and she respected whatever boundaries he needed. But then the shy little boy was in her arms where his sister had been, curled against her side. His embrace was nothing like Nora’s. No pressure, just closeness, like he didn’t want a hug, necessarily, but to be held.

  Her heart felt like it was going to explode at the kids’ hugs. No wonder Tom went overboard today in the name of love for these sweet kids.

  “Come on, Logan.” Elena opened the door, admitting a chill. And then Logan and Nora were gone, leaving a yawning emptiness in the store, as well as Faith’s stomach. It wasn’t hunger. It was something else entirely.

  Grief at how she’d handled things in front of Tom’s kids. Gratitude for Tom’s apology, even though it was brief and over text, but what more could she expect from a guy with a sick dog at the vet? She app
reciated the gesture, but at the same time she felt a total lack of closure between them.

  Faith blew a strand of hair from her eyes. She needed to apologize, too, and close this unpleasant chapter. It was the right thing to do, but she was not looking forward to it at all.

  * * *

  After dinner, Tom sat cross-legged on the plush gray living room rug, losing at the kids’ favorite board game. Faint rays of sunshine broke through the remaining clouds outside, casting a pale light through the tall windows that overlooked the creek, but it was dim enough that they needed lamplight to play the game of Operation set on the living room coffee table. Squinting, he held the metal tweezers steady as he pinched the plastic “hangnail” and gently withdrew it from the cavity cut into the Operation Sam game board.

  Success. No touching the sides, no awful buzz or making Sam’s nose glow red. He made an exaggerated show of wiping his forehead in relief. “Phew, that was close.”

  Logan’s turn. “I have to do the heartburn? That one’s hard.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  Logan squinted and went for the little plastic heart in Sam’s chest. Watching his son, Tom tried to be mindful of times like these, quiet, everyday type moments when he and the kids were together making memories.

  “My turn.” Nora grabbed the tongs and went for the plastic piece in the rumbling tummy. Despite her care, the game board buzzed, and Sam’s nose glowed bright red. Nora shrieked in a dramatic display of mock despair.

  Roscoe woke from his nap on the large dog bed by the hearth, blinking at them. Then his ear perked up, clueing Tom into a noise outside a full ten seconds before the doorbell rang.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better, buddy.” Tom rose to get the door, the hardwood floor off the rug cool on his bare feet. Maybe the plumber forgot something when he was here, fixing the bathroom pipes—a job way beyond Tom’s ability. Tom peeked through the peephole and felt his lips part in surprise.

  What was she doing here? He opened the door. “Faith.”

  “Good evening, Tom.” She tried to smile but couldn’t quite do it. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but I wanted to thank you for your text and at the same time apologize for my words and behavior today, and I, uh—here.” She thrust a vintage-looking tin at him. “Three types of fudge. They’re not poison or anything. I mean, because of our disagreement earlier—this is not coming out right.” She rubbed her head. “Can I start again?”

  “Come on in.” Tom stepped back, biting back a smile. It seemed she was no more comfortable with how they’d left things than he was.

  Her heeled boots clacked on the floor as she entered, accompanied by a tinge of crisp evening air. “How’s Roscoe?”

  “Miss Faith!” Logan ran into the foyer, Nora at his heels.

  “Roscoe’s okay,” he answered over the kids’ heads. “Turns out my mom gave him leftovers. Bellyache is much better now.”

  Nora twirled around Faith. “How did you find our house?”

  “Your dad mentioned you were living in the Millers’ old house.”

  Tom had forgotten that conversation. She took a half step farther inside, not as if she were making herself at home but to look around her at the foyer, two-stories high, flanked by the staircase and lit by a modern-cut glass chandelier. Her gaze took in the updates he’d made, from the dark wood floors to the neutral paint to the new front door. “This sure doesn’t look the same as the last time I was here. Wow, Tom, this is beautiful.”

  A far cry from the tenor of their earlier discussion today. “Thanks.”

  “We put up pictures and lights,” Nora said.

  “And painted our bedrooms. Mine’s blue.” Logan looked at the tin in Tom’s hands. “What’s that?”

  Faith tipped her head toward the tin. “A welcome-to-town gift.”

  Not necessary. “You gave the kids a book, remember?”

  “Then it’s an I’m-sorry-for-barking gift.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her houndstooth peacoat.

  “You didn’t bark. But I’m sorry, too. I messed up.” It couldn’t have been easy for her to come here after their heated exchange today. With a gift, no less. An unpoisoned one.

  He hadn’t realized he was smiling until she offered a wary grin. “What’s so funny?”

  “Just looking forward to the fudge. Three types, you said?”

  “Chocolate, vanilla and peppermint cocoa.”

  “Come in and sample it with us, then.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.” Faith took a half step back. “I’m interrupting.”

  “We don’t mind a break.” Tom beckoned her in. “Sorry, can I take your coat?”

  “I’ll leave it here by the door.” She shed her coat and dropped it and her purse on the armrest of the couch in the living room. “I won’t stay long.”

  Hopefully, long enough to have a decent talk. He wouldn’t mind a chance to more fully explain himself. Maybe once the kids got going on the fudge, he and Faith could have a few minutes of frank discussion.

  He opened the tin, releasing the delectable aroma of rich chocolate and cream. His mouth watered. “A bite for you guys and the rest for me,” he teased.

  The kids protested while Faith knelt at Roscoe’s side and rubbed his neck, ears and back. “Feeling better, eh? Poor pup.”

  “Thanks for the vet recommendation.” Tom passed paper napkins to his kids. “She was great.”

  “Peyton’s wonderful.” Faith rose and folded her arms. “So how’s the fudge?”

  Tom gave a thumbs-up, unable to answer around the food in his mouth. Wow, she was a good cook. Or baker. Did one bake fudge? Tom’s repertoire had been limited to barbecue until this last year, but he was learning. He’d have to learn how to make this.

  “Which flavor’s your favorite?” Nora pointed at the options.

  “I like them all, but...chocolate.” Faith smiled at the kids.

  The doorbell rang again, causing Roscoe to lift his head and Tom to hold back from taking another bite. “Maybe that’s the plumber. Just a minute.”

  His peephole peek revealed his mother instead of the plumber, though. He swung the door open and kissed her floral-scented cheek. “What brings you out here?”

  She gripped his gray sweatshirt, holding him close enough so he could hear her whisper. “Whose car is that out front?”

  “Faith Latham.”

  “The antiques woman? What’s going on, Tom?”

  “Nothing. Nothing,” he added, as realization dawned as to why his mother was asking. Faith was not here because there was anything the least bit romantic going on. “You know she and I are competing for the same storefront, and we lost our cools today in front of the kids.” At his mom’s horrified expression, Tom moved his hands in a settle-down gesture. “Not bad, Mom, okay? But she’s here to apologize. That’s it.”

  “I hope that’s all, mijo, because the last thing my precious grandkids need is to be confused about your relationship with a woman. They’ve been through enough.”

  He didn’t need his mom’s guilt right now. Or her automatic assumption he was interested in dating. “You know I won’t date, Mom. Faith is going to be my neighbor on Main Street, though, and this competition over the old livery didn’t bring out the best in either of us today. That’s all, okay? But that’s not why you came. What’s wrong?”

  “I showed a house in your neighborhood and noticed the strange car. I had to make sure you weren’t making a mistake already.”

  Well, that was a punch in the gut. One week in his own home and his mom thought he’d be neglecting his kids somehow?

  “Grammy?” Nora slunk around the corner from the living room. “Why don’t you come in all the way?”

  Mom grasped Nora in a bear hug. “We’re talking grown-up stuff first.”

  “Are you almost done? We’re eating Miss Faith’s
fudge and it’s really good.”

  “I’ll try a nibble.” Mom took Nora’s hand and led the way to the living room.

  “Mrs. Santos.” Faith rose from the floor where she and Logan were patting Roscoe. Tom would have thought she was entirely relaxed, except for the bob of her throat, visible beneath her green turtleneck.

  This wasn’t the easiest situation, and he hadn’t helped it any by whispering in the foyer with his mom. She glanced at her coat, a sure sign she was ready to leave, but he wanted to talk to her. To make peace, and maybe his mom’s arrival could actually help that happen.

  “I’m going to take Roscoe out back. Faith, why don’t you come with me so you can see the creek? Mom, you can take my spot at Operation.”

  At the words out back, the feel of the room changed. Roscoe rose and trotted to the sliding glass door. Faith’s eyes went wide. Mom’s chin lowered, like a bull about to charge. Logan stripped his socks. “I wanna go outside.”

  “Not this time. Miss Faith and I need to talk about the store, okay, bud?”

  “Grown-ups.” Nora sighed dramatically. “They always have to talk without us.”

  Mom shook her head in obvious exasperation, but it wasn’t like he was a teenager looking for an excuse to steal a smooch with his first girlfriend. He’d made his intentions clear, and Faith seemed to get that he wanted to talk, because she nodded. “Good idea.”

  Removing Roscoe’s leash from a hook by the sliding glass door, Tom gauged the thickness of Faith’s turtleneck. The rain had cooled things considerably today. He was snug in his dark gray sweatshirt, but he ran hot. “Need your coat?”

  “No, it’ll be all right.” Faith preceded him out onto the covered patio.

  He slid the door shut behind them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be good to clear the air without an audience.”

  “I appreciate it.” Despite her insistence that she’d be warm enough without her coat, she folded her arms as if chilled as they trudged over the grassy backyard. “Earlier today, I talked to your kids about how we should say sorry, but then I didn’t give you the courtesy of apologizing for some of the things I said. So here it is—I’m sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t have insinuated you were trying to bribe me or you were stealing something that isn’t even mine. I was upset—I am upset—but Nora made me realize I shouldn’t have let things get to that point.”