Heidi McCahan - The Firefighter's Twins

“Liam?” He yanked back the comforter on his king-size bed. Empty. His chest tightened. “Where is he, Aiden?”

Aiden regarded him with a wide-eyed stare, his thumb tucked securely in his mouth. This was probably just the beginning of the boys taking up for each other. Shay glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Mom would be over in a few minutes. She could keep Aiden occupied while he searched more thoroughly. Maybe he should call her and ask if she was on her way.

“Sweepy.” Aiden mumbled around his thumb, resting his head on Shay’s shoulder.

“I know you are. It’s almost bedtime. As soon as we find your brother.” He patted Aiden’s back while he went to the kitchen to grab his phone. When he reached the tile floor, something hard crunched under his bare foot. He stepped back and glanced down. The remnant of a Cheerio was smashed against the tile. A few more dotted the space between him and the pantry door, which was open a fraction of an inch. Shay nudged it open the rest of the way. Liam sat on the pantry floor, surrounded by the cereal—likely the entire box.

“Liam Douglas Campbell, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh-oh,” Aiden whispered.

“Da-da.” Liam offered up a Cheerio. “Want some?”

“No, I do not. Get up. Right now.” Shay couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice.

Liam clambered to his feet, Cheerios sticking to his dump truck pajamas.

“Daddy mad.” Aiden patted Shay’s back.

“Daddy is mad. You know better, Liam. You don’t go in the pantry without a grown-up, and you certainly don’t open anything without asking.”

Liam’s lower lip pooched out, and he hung his head.

Oh, here we go.

His little body trembled as he began to cry. Out of sympathy, Aiden sniffled a few times before launching the waterworks, squirming to get down. Shay was happy to comply, releasing Aiden to stand with Liam, perhaps in a declaration of solidarity. They stood together, sobbing in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“How did we get here?” he whispered, massaging his aching forehead with his fingertips.

The doorbell rang, which only meant one thing. Backup.

“Let’s go see who’s here. I sure hope it’s Nana.” They made their way to the front door, the boys’ cries escalating. He was certain that was for Nana’s benefit.

He checked the peephole. Mom stood on the porch, holding a grocery sack and her overnight bag. He turned the lock and then opened the door. “Hey, Nana. We’re glad you’re here.”

“Oh, my.” Her eyes widened. “What’s the matter with my fellas?”

He stepped aside so she could come in. “Someone did some unsupervised exploring in the pantry.”

She slid the groceries onto the table, next to a plate with Liam’s half-finished supper on it, and set her bag next to the chair. She kneeled down and tugged Liam toward her, smoothing his hair with her hand. He melted against her shoulder, sniffling.

Aiden’s tears had slowed, replaced by hiccupy breaths. “Nana. Hugs.”

“Pajamas first, pal.” Shay glanced around. “Where are they?”

Aiden ignored him, toddling over to nuzzle Nana’s other shoulder.

Leaving Mom to soothe the last of their tears, Shay backtracked until he found Aiden’s fire truck pajamas on the floor, in the laundry room.

“Here we go, buddy. Let’s put these on.” Aiden didn’t put up any resistance. Shay helped him pull on the shirt and pants, while Mom took Liam over to the couch.

“Why don’t we read a few books before bed?” She pulled some of their favorites from the stack on the coffee table.

Shay considered protesting that Liam’s misbehavior shouldn’t be rewarded. Books were a privilege. But they looked so adorable, snuggled on either side of her, and he was too tired to fight them.

“I’ll fix their milk.” He trudged to the kitchen, side-stepping the mess on the floor.

Once their sippy cups were full, he returned to the den. Mom was halfway through The Little Blue Truck. Aiden’s eyelids drooped, and Liam had already fallen asleep.

She touched a finger to her lips and then kept reading. When she’d finished, Shay carried first one boy and then the other to their room. Although they had separate cribs, they’d refused to sleep apart. He settled them both in one crib, turned on the monitor, night-light and music box. Tiptoeing out of the room, he closed the door behind him. What a day.

In the kitchen, Mom stood at the counter, ladling beef stew onto a plate. “Have you had supper?”

He shook his head. “No. The boys did, but I didn’t get a chance.”

“I’ll warm this up. Would you like some bread? I brought rolls.”

“You didn’t have to do all that. What’s Dad eating?”

She waved him off. “I’m happy to help. You need to eat, son.”

His mouth watered. In the weeks after Monica’s sudden departure, the anger and confusion were all-consuming. People brought meals, but most of it ended up in the garbage. Now, almost a year later, he craved real food again. He could sit at the table with the boys and not let the empty fourth chair bring him to tears.

Mom slid the plate into the microwave.

“You didn’t answer my question. Where’s Dad tonight?”

While his supper reheated, she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice and water. He waited. The set of her shoulders indicated she didn’t want to talk about it. But they never talked about it. That was the problem.

“He has plenty to eat. Don’t worry about him.”

“Mom, if you coming here is an issue, I can hire a nanny.”

The microwave beeped. “Don’t be silly. I love coming over.”

“But Dad doesn’t.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and carried his plate to the table.

He followed, gently placing his hand on her arm. “I’m serious. I hired help in Virginia, and I can do it again here.”

“Nonsense. You don’t need strangers watching the boys. That’s what grandmothers are for.”

“Not when it aggravates the grandpa.”

She offered a sad smile. “Don’t you worry about your father. I trailed him all over creation for years with the military. This is how I want to spend my retirement. He understands.”

“But he doesn’t have any time for his only grandchildren.” Shay bowed his head and silently thanked God for his food. When he opened his eyes, Mom stared at the table, cupping her glass of water with both hands.

“He loves Aiden and Liam in his own way.” Her voice, thick with emotion, gave him pause.

Measuring his words, Shay spread a paper napkin across his lap. “At some point, he’s got to demonstrate that. They’re perceptive. They’ll start asking why Grandpa never wants to hang out with them.”

“Honey, we aren’t going to change your father. The best thing we can do is keep praying and creating opportunities for him to be involved.”

Shay speared a bite of meat with his fork. While her response carried truth and wisdom, it still stung. So far, Dad had avoided almost all interaction with the boys. He’d come by the house once, maybe twice, since they’d moved in. The complex web of hurt and guilt undergirding most of his interactions with his father wasn’t the boys’ fault. He wouldn’t let them carry the heavy burden of disapproval.

“Were you able to join that committee the young lady at the birthday party mentioned?”

Shay dipped his bread in the broth, pooling on his plate, too hungry to protest her deliberate shift to a new topic. “Yes. My first meeting was this afternoon.”

“Oh? How’d it go?”

“Great. Looks like the fire department will play a big role in the festival.”

“Wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be a tremendous help.”