Lois Richer - Mistletoe Twins

“What is it, sweetie?”

The little girl launched herself into Adele’s arms. “I don’t wanna stay here, Delly,” she wailed.

Though slightly chagrined that his special moniker for his bestie had been usurped by these two mini-heartbreakers, Mac’s annoyance quickly metamorphosed into a rush of compassion as the girl wept as though her heart would break. He choked up just witnessing her misery.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Adele swung Francie onto her knee and wrapped her other arm around Franklyn. “You tell me, Franklyn,” she prodded when Francie couldn’t stop sobbing.

“Those aunties said we hafta have different rooms.” A hint of anger underlay Franklyn’s glowering expression. “Francie don’t want to.”

Adele lifted her head and shrugged at Mac helplessly. The shimmering glow of mother love in her beautiful eyes made him gulp.

“Where do you want to sleep, Francie?” she asked.

“Me an’ Franklyn like sharin’.” Francie sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “When the bad dreams c-come—” And there she went again, bawling her heart out. Mac felt utterly helpless, and he hated it.

“Sweetheart, did the aunties say you had to have two rooms?” Adele gently smoothed away Francie’s tears, smiling when the child shook her head. “Then you’re crying because you think they’ll make you?”

“I guess.” Francie sniffed, then frowned when Tillie and Margaret appeared, slightly out of breath. “Won’t they?”

“Of course not. Why didn’t you tell them what you wanted?” Adele asked gently.

“We’re not s’posed to make a fuss.” Franklyn’s grave tone made Mac blink. Adele was alert, too. He could tell she was fighting off her annoyance because her back suddenly straightened as it always had when they were in school and someone had irritated her.

“It’s not a fuss to say if you don’t want to do something, Franklyn,” he intervened to give Adele a moment to regroup. “Otherwise, how will people know what you want?”

“But the lady at that office where we go said we gotta—Ow!” Franklyn rubbed his arm and glared at Francie. “She pinched me.”

“She’s going to apologize,” Adele promised with a reproving glance at Francie. “But first I need to say something to both of you and I want you to listen very carefully.”

Mac had to stifle a chuckle at the uh-oh look filling Francie’s face.

“This is The Haven. It isn’t like other places you’ve stayed before. It’s different.” Adele had to see their skepticism because Mac sure did.

He was also very aware of Tillie and Margaret standing in the doorway, worried and probably praying for the two waifs. But Delly was right. The Haven was like no other place on earth.

“Here you may ask for whatever you need. You won’t ever get in trouble for asking. You may not always get what you ask for, but we can’t help you if you don’t ask.” Adele continued, gently but firmly, “And you don’t have to be afraid here. We love you both and we’re all going to do everything we can to make sure you’re happy. Okay?”

Franklyn nodded but it seemed Francie wasn’t quite convinced.

“C’n Franklyn an’ me sleep in the same room an’ c’n it be blue, light not dark, an’ c’n we have lotsa toys ’n’ everything?” she asked in a rush.

“Hmm, let’s see.” Adele’s face glowed as she glanced at Mac. “Yes, yes, yes and maybe. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Clearly shocked, Francie stared at Franklyn as if to ask if he believed it.

“Good. An apology?” She waited, one eyebrow arched as the little girl asked her brother’s forgiveness and, receiving it, hugged him. “Now, do you have any other questions, or should we get our things from the car and begin unpacking?” Adele noted Francie’s grin at her brother. “What’s that look about?”

“C’n me ’n’ Franklyn have some candy?” the little girl asked, eyes sparkling with fun.

“Not before supper.” Adele rolled her eyes at Mac. “Always a test. Jackets on, children. Let’s get busy. But first—”

She didn’t have to admonish twice. Francie walked over to the aunties and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I din’t know. Thanks for lettin’ us stay here.”

“Child, you’re very welcome.” Tears welled in Tillie’s eyes as she brushed her hand against Francie’s blond pigtails. “Such pretty hair, just like our Adele’s.”

“Two more children in the house. How lovely.” Margaret clasped her hands together as she thought it through. “We have a pretty blue room with two beds and a wonderful window seat made just for stories. Will that do?”

The children nodded eagerly. Tillie couldn’t seem to help smoothing Franklyn’s curly hair, to no avail, in Mac’s opinion.

“See how easy that was?” Adele chided the children. “Come on now. Time to get busy.”

Jackets on, they hurried out the door, but Mac hung back.

“Dear boy, I do hope you’ll be dropping by frequently now that both you and Adele are home,” Tillie enthused.

Immediately enveloped in a cloud of scent Delly had once informed him was the aunts’ favorite lemon verbena, Mac felt like he had come home.

“Thank you. Have you been skiing, Tillie? I’m envious of your tan.” Other than the tan, the identical twin sisters were almost impossible to tell apart.

“Everyone’s envious, dear. Especially Margaret, though she won’t try a bottled tan. I love it.” Tillie’s face saddened. “I’m so sorry about you and your copilot’s injuries. We’ve been praying for you both.”

“Er—thank you.” He gulped. He hadn’t responded to their letters. So how did the aunts know about Dave? And what else did they know? Did they know Mac had caused his buddy’s wounds? Did they know he’d never told the truth about the crash?

“If there’s any way we can help, dear, you have only to ask,” Margaret said, patting his shoulder.

“Well—” He exhaled. “I would like to speak to the two of you privately at your convenience. I need some advice.”

“We’d be pleased to help.” Margaret smiled. “Shall we text you with a suitable time?”

“Thank you.” Mac blinked. The two of them texted. Why was he surprised? No one could call the Spenser sisters old-fashioned. “That would be great.”

“Fine. Now, sister, we’d better help our family move in.” Tillie chuckled. “Oh, I love the sound of that word. Family. Want to help?” she asked Mac brightly.

“Of course.” Mac held their coats, then ushered them outside, ensuring they carried only the lightest of items. He’d made his third trip in when the grandfather clock in the hall chimed. He froze.

“Something wrong?” Adele, arms loaded with boxes, stopped short.

“The time. I told Mom I’d only be gone ten minutes and it’s been over an hour.” Mac set down his load. “Sorry, but I have to get home. See you later everyone.”

“Come for a meal anytime,” Adele offered as she walked him to his truck.

“Like I’d miss an opportunity to eat your cooking,” he scoffed. “Not a chance, Delly.” He lowered his voice. “I’m just wondering, is Francie and Franklyn’s stay here unlimited? There’s no chance they’ll be removed?”

Mac could have kicked himself when a little voice piped up, “Me an’ Franklyn are stayin’ with Delly forever.”

Francie stood behind him, blond pigtails reminding Mac of a very determined Adele when she’d first arrived at The Haven with her three foster sisters.

“Good,” he said, with a smile, wishing he’d made sure his questions couldn’t be overheard.

“Delly said we might get ’dopted. That means get a fam’ly,” she explained. She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Maybe Delly will ’dopt you, too, Mr. Mac.”