‘Your throat…’
‘Hurts,’ he finished for her. ‘Well guessed. I’d imagine yours does, too. Luckily my book’s mostly pictures so the boys and I just have to look. So scoot.’ He smiled down at the two nervous little boys in their shared bed, and his smile was encompassing and kind. ‘Is that okay with you guys?’ he asked them. ‘It seems a bit unfair that we’re clean and Erin’s not.’
The boys considered in silence—and then slowly nodded in unison.
‘Great.’ Matt’s smile widened and he sank down onto the bed beside Erin. It was sort of crowded down there—four on the bed—but it was familiar and very, very comforting after the fear of the last hours. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he told Erin softly, ‘but I’m pooped and the sooner we get this lot asleep the sooner we can get to bed ourselves.’
Absolutely.
He was perfectly right.
So why did his words bring a blush to her face as she rose and headed gratefully to the bathroom?
And those tears were definitely still threatening.
By the time she’d showered, the twins were solidly, absolutely asleep. Wrapped in one of Louise’s vast towels, Erin checked them from all angles and decided it’d take another bomb to wake them, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.
She didn’t blame them. She was exhausted herself, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.
He’d meet her in the kitchen, he’d said, but she couldn’t go and find him wrapped only in a towel. Her own clothes were disgusting, so she hauled on an enormous dressing gown she found in the donations pile and made her way through the house to find him.
The house was huge. Vast! It must have six or seven bedrooms, she thought as she padded barefoot down the passage, and when Matt emerged from a door in front of her she practically squeaked in fright.
‘Hey, I’m no ghost.’ Still those eyes twinkled as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Uh, oh. You’re done in.’
‘You must be, too.’ She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were still reddened slightly from the smoke and the burn on his forehead had blistered further. ‘You look a darn sight worse than me.’
‘I’d have to agree there.’ The laughter lines deepened as he took in her total appearance. ‘But only just. What you’re doing in a bathrobe that looks like it was designed for Mother Hubbard…’
That brought a chuckle. The robe was enormous. She swam in it, and it trailed out behind her like a flannelette bridal train.
His voice softened as he realised why she was wearing it. ‘Hell! I guess you’ll have all lost your own clothes.’
She had. She’d barely had time to take it in yet, but it was something she’d have to face. Most of her belongings were back in the blackened, smouldering ruin. However…
‘They were just things,’ she said resolutely, trying not to think of her mother’s seed pearl necklace that she’d loved so much. ‘Things can be replaced.’
‘You’re one brave lady.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life as I was this evening. I thought I’d lost them.’
‘The boys.’
‘Yes.’ He was leading her into the kitchen as they spoke, and at last she relaxed. Unlike the rest of the house, this felt like a proper home. The kitchen had ancient polished floorboards, big comfy furniture, a huge wooden table and cushioned chairs, and a settee than made you want to bounce and sink out of sight.
A gleaming Aga was sending out its gentle warmth across the kitchen, and an ancient collie dog looked quizzically up at her as she entered. He thumped his tail gently against the floor and then went straight back to sleep.
This was home, she thought. This was a real home.
Damn, she had to blink back tears again. The waterworks were surely ready to pounce tonight. The fear had driven every ounce of strength from her.
Bed.
She should go to bed, but…
‘Hot chocolate and a brandy,’ Matt was saying. ‘I know I told the kids warm milk, but you and I need something stronger. I’ve eaten toast. Do you want something to eat? No? Then just a drink and then bed.’ He turned away to fetch mugs and glasses, and while he was faced away his voice changed. ‘You love them, don’t you?’
‘Who?’ She leaned against a chair to steady herself—her legs seemed to have lost all their strength—but she knew instinctively who he was talking about. His next words confirmed it.
‘The twins.’
The hot chocolate made, he turned back to her and gestured for her to sit. There was nothing for it. In her ridiculous night wear she sat, sinking into his squishy chair like she was drowning. She took the chocolate and cradled it, drawing strength from the warmth of the mug.
She thought of the twins and her mouth twisted. ‘I’m pretty fond of them.’
‘You’re a House Mother,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I thought you’re not supposed to get attached to your charges.’
‘You mean I’m not supposed to care if they go up in flames?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He was watching her face. ‘The boys are different, though, aren’t they? To you.’
She shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘Why?’
That was harder to answer. She thought about it and gave him the easy answer. ‘It’s probably because they’ve been with me more than most. Kids don’t tend to stay in orphanages any more. They get adopted or fostered out as soon as we can find someone who’ll take them. Fifty years ago we used to have scores of orphans. Now we have kids like Tess and Michael who are in for short-term crisis care, or the baby Lori’s taken for me. She’s been with us while her mother made the decision to allow her to be adopted.’
‘And the twins?’
‘That’s the problem. We can’t find anyone for the twins.’
There. It was said—the stark reality that hurt just to think of it.
‘Why not?’ Matt said, watching her face.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Liar.’
She shrugged, and then gave him a weary smile. ‘No. I’m not a liar and I do find it hard to understand. They’re adorable. But the twins push people away, you see.’
‘I don’t see.’
‘You may well see it soon.’ She sighed. ‘Look, they were the product of a one-night stand. Their mother doesn’t remember who their father is, and she has seven other kids to look after. To be honest, the twins reached their mother’s IQ level when they were about three. I’d reckon whoever fathered them wasn’t lacking in the intelligence quotient and they’re smart as paint. Anyway, she can’t cope with them, she rejected them absolutely and she threw them at us for adoption. Unfortunately they were old enough to understand what was happening.’
‘And they’re taking it out on the world?’
‘Only on whoever is deemed to threaten them. And now they expect to be rejected. They won’t let anyone close because they know it’ll end.’ Erin sighed. She was bone-weary and the comfort of the hot chocolate and the sympathy in this man’s eyes was more than enough to push her over the edge. He’d poured her a brandy but she wasn’t game enough to drink it. Her eyes wanted to close so badly…
‘Sleep,’