Her face crinkled with sympathy. “How long were they married?”
“We had a fiftieth-anniversary party for them a couple of years ago,” he said, thinking back. “So I think it was fifty-two years by the time she passed.”
“Did Kimmie come?”
He barked out a disgusted-sounding laugh. “No.”
Not wanting to get into any Kimmie-bashing, Erica changed the subject. “Could we do something to cheer him up?”
He looked thoughtful. “Gran always did a ton of decorating. I’d guess the stuff is up in the attic.” He quirked his mouth. “I’m not very good at it. Neither is Papa. It’s not a guy thing.”
“Sexist,” she scolded. “You don’t need two X chromosomes to decorate.”
“In this family you do. Will you... Would you mind helping me put up at least some of the decorations?” He sounded tentative, unsure of himself, and Erica could understand why. She wasn’t sure if they had a truce or if he was still upset with her about the way she’d handled things with Kimmie.
But it was Christmastime, and an old man needed comfort. “Sure. I just need to put these guys down for a nap. Look at Mikey. He’s about half-asleep already.”
“I’ll start bringing stuff down from the attic.”
Erica carried the babies up the stairs, their large diaper bag slung across her shoulders. Man, she’d never realized how hard it was to single-parent twins.
Not that she’d give up a bit of it. They’d been so adorable wrapped up in their blankets in the sleigh, and everyone at church had made a fuss over them. One of the other mothers in the church, a woman named Sheila, had insisted on going to her truck and getting out a hand-me-down, Mikey-sized snowsuit right then and there. She’d promised to see if she could locate another spare one among her mom friends.
Erica saw, now, why Kimmie had sent her here. It was a beautiful community, aesthetically and heartwise, perfect for raising kids.
She’d love to stay. If only she wasn’t terrified of having them taken from her by the man downstairs.
Kimmie had seemed to feel a mix of love and regret and anger toward her brother. Now that she’d met him, Erica could understand it better.
A free spirit, Kimmie had often been irresponsible, unwilling to do things by the book or follow rules. It was part of why she’d smoked cigarettes and done drugs and gotten in trouble with the police.
Jason seemed to be the exact opposite: responsible, concerned about his grandfather, an officer of the law.
Erica wished with all her heart that she could just reveal the truth to Jason and Papa. She hated this secrecy.
But she would hate even more for Jason to take the twins away from her. This last thing she could do for Kimmie, she’d do.
And it wasn’t one-sided. Kimmie had actually done Erica a favor, offered her a huge blessing.
Erica rarely dated, didn’t really understand the give-and-take of relationships. Certainly, her mother hadn’t modeled anything healthy in that regard. So it was no big surprise that Erica wasn’t attractive to men. She didn’t want to be. She dressed purposefully in utilitarian clothes and didn’t wear makeup. She just didn’t trust men, not with her childhood. And men didn’t like her, at least not romantically.
So the incredible gift that Kimmie had given her that she could never have gotten for herself was a family.
She put the twins down in their portable playpen, settling them on opposite sides, knowing they’d end up tangled together by the end of the nap. Mikey was out immediately, but Teddy needed some back rubbing and quiet talk before he relaxed into sleep.
Pretty soon, they’d need toddler beds. They’d need a lot of things. Including insurance and winter clothing and early intervention services for their developmental delays.
And just how was she going to manage that, when she didn’t have a job, a savings account or a real right to parent the twins?
Teddy kicked and fussed a little, seeming to sense her tension. So she pushed aside her anxiety and prayed for peace and for the twins to be okay and for Papa to receive comfort.
And for Kimmie’s soul.
When she got toward the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Jason was lying on the floor, pouring water into a green-and-red tree stand. Somehow, he’d gotten the tree they’d quickly chosen into the house by himself and set it upright, and it emitted a pungent, earthy scent that was worlds better than the pine room freshener her mother had sometimes sprayed around at Christmastime.
Jason had changed out of church clothes. He wore faded jeans and a sage-green T-shirt that clung to his impressive chest and arms.
Weight lifting was a part of being a cop, she supposed. And obviously, he’d excelled at it.
Her face heating at the direction of her own thoughts, she came the rest of the way down the stairs. “It smells so good! I never had a live tree before.”
“Never?” He looked at her as if she must have been raised in a third world country. “What were your Christmases like?” He eased back from the tree and started opening boxes of decorations.
“Nothing like a TV Christmas movie, but who has that, really? Sometimes Mom would get me a present, and sometimes a Secret Santa or church program would leave something on our doorstep.”
Jason looked at her with curiosity and something that might have been compassion, and she didn’t want that kind of attention. “What about you? Did you and Kimmie and your parents come here for the holidays?”
“My parents loved to travel.” He dug through a box and pulled out a set of green, heart-shaped ornaments. “See? From Ireland. They usually went on an overseas trip or a cruise at Christmas, and every year they brought back ornaments. We have ’em from every continent.”
“Wow. Pretty.” But it didn’t sound very warm and family oriented. “Didn’t they ever take you and Kimmie with them?”
“Nope. Dumped us here. But that was fine with us.” He waved an arm around the high-ceilinged, sunlit room. “Imagine it all decorated, with a whole heap of presents under the tree. Snowball fights and gingerbread cookies and sleigh rides. For a kid, it couldn’t get much better.”
“For a grown-up, too,” she murmured without thinking.
He nodded. “I’m glad to be here. For Papa and for me, too.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“Dad passed about five years ago, and Mom’s living on the French Riviera with her new husband. We exchange Christmas cards.” He sounded blasé about it. But Erica knew how much emotion and hurt a blasé tone could cover.
They spent a couple of hours decorating the tree, spreading garland along the mantel and stringing lights. By the time Erica heard a cry from upstairs, indicating that the twins were waking up, they’d created a practically perfect farm-style Christmas environment.
“Do you need help with the babies?” Jason asked.
She would love to have help, but she knew she shouldn’t start getting used to it. “It’s fine. I’ll get them.”
“I’m going to check on Papa, then.”
Erica’s back was aching by the time she’d changed the twins’ diapers and brought them downstairs, one on each hip. But the couple of hours they’d spent decorating were worth it. When Jason opened the door and Papa came in, his face lit up, even as his hands went to his hips. He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do this. I wasn’t...” He looked away and Erica realized he was choking up. “I wasn’t going to put anything up this year. But seeing as how we have children in the house again...”