Mistletoe Twins

“But we don’t have to worry about when we’ll officially be a family because God will work that out.” With a last wave at him Adele shepherded the two now-quiet children and their teddy bears inside.

The back door closed, but for a moment Mac couldn’t move.

God would work it out?

He’d stopped praying a while ago, right after the crash. Maybe it was coming back to The Haven, maybe it was hearing the love in Delly’s voice as she comforted those two orphans, or maybe it was their rapt attention to whatever she said. Whatever the reason, a prayer slipped out of him.

“Please, God, help those kids and Adele get their dream of family.”

What about your dream, Mac? What do you want?

Right now, Mac’s only dream was to see his good friend Adele happy. He didn’t have a plan for his future. Hopefully Tillie and Margaret would have some advice about that because Dad couldn’t keep running the Double M. If Mac was going to take over, it had to be soon. And if he wasn’t, he owed it to his parents to help sell the place so they could retire.

But if he didn’t ranch, what would he do?

Mac drove home with the same question rolling through his brain that had been there from the moment he’d awakened after the accident.

What’s next, God?

Chapter Three

“Anyone who just served that incredible Thanksgiving dinner to more than fifteen people should not look like you do.” Three days later, on Monday evening, Mac shook his head at Adele’s flawless beauty, then returned his attention to drying the roaster.

“What’s wrong with how I look?” From the corner of his eye he saw her pat her chic upswept curls. Then she tugged on his arm and demanded, “Mac?”

“Nothing’s wrong with how you look. That’s the problem.” He chuckled at her confusion, amused by the way she stretched to make herself taller than her actual five foot six. She’d always complained about his eight-inch height advantage.

“Are you laughing at me?” she demanded, brow furrowed.

“I’m amazed at you. After feeding half of Chokecherry Hollow, that dress you’re wearing is still immaculate, your eyes sparkle like a fresh batch of your aunt Tillie’s Christmas toffee and your cheeks glow like Margaret’s Nanjing cherry jelly. You look so good it’s scary, Adele.”

“Well, I had to make a concession and take off my heels,” she explained. “And I did wear an apron for most of the day, but I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

“That’s how I meant it.” He ogled the pumpkin pie, felt his stomach protest and shook his head. Today was Monday. Surely Thanksgiving leftovers would still be here tomorrow. He’d better wait. Adele noticed when he patted his midriff and chuckled.

“Aw, don’t you feel well, Mac?” Her pseudo look of concern was spoiled by her smirk. “Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten all three kinds of pie?”

“This body is a machine,” he said proudly, thrusting out his chin. “Burns off calories like a well-oiled engine.”

“Uh-huh.” Adele had long ago mastered using mere facial expressions to get her point across, and so Mac couldn’t help laughing at her mocking mime. But he choked at her next question. “What were you whispering to Francie during dinner?”

“She, uh, asked me if she could tell me about the car accident.” Mac focused on drying the last pot as another surge of sympathy for the orphaned children welled inside.

“You’d have a problem with listening?” Adele stretched to place each pan just so on the hanging rack.

“No, but—” Mac frowned. “The kid wants to talk to me about the day her parents died. She should talk to a psychologist.”

“Both of them already did that. I’m guessing Francie needs to talk more, to you.” Adele studied him with a glint of curiosity. “You two seem to have a bond developing. I’m sure Francie would far rather speak to you than a stranger.”

“Yes, but what do I know?” Panic filled him. “I might say the wrong thing and hurt her. That’s the last thing—”

“Mac.” Adele laid her hand on his arm, her voice very gentle. “It’s not what you say. It’s listening to her. Let Francie vent. Comfort her if she needs it. You know how to do that.”

“Because of my accident, you mean?”

“Because you’re an expert when it comes to comforting people. I should know. You helped me through some really rough times when we were kids, especially when I first came here.” Her faith in him was appealing. “You can do that for Francie, too. She already trusts you. Otherwise why would she have asked you to listen?”

Mac appreciated Adele’s assurances, but he had no confidence in himself. He felt broken down, used, a mess up with no prospects for the future. He especially didn’t feel good about trying to fill in for Carter, who’d dreamed of putting his own mark on the Double M. Stepping into his dead brother’s shoes could hardly be what the chaplain espoused as God’s plan for Mac’s life.

“I wouldn’t know how to help Francie,” he demurred, feeling helpless.

“What matters is that you listen,” Adele repeated. “If you need a starting point, talk about your miniature horses. The aunts said they’re still at the ranch.”

“They are but—How long are Francie and Franklyn staying here?” Was it right to get involved if they would be taken away? Was it right not to?

“I wasn’t given a timetable. Until I can adopt them, I hope. They have no relatives. They’ve struggled in several homes because they’re normal, active children, which apparently some people don’t appreciate.” Adele’s rolling eyes expressed her thoughts on that. “I’m told most couples want babies or much younger children. Also, sometimes—” She hesitated, glanced over one shoulder.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Sometimes the twins make up stories,” she murmured very quietly. “It’s caused problems for them so we’re working on that.”

“You believe total and utter truth is always the answer, don’t you, Delly?” Mac watched her eyes widen, wondering how she’d react if he told her the truth about his “accident.”

“How can relationships grow and how can you trust someone if they’re hiding behind lies?” She shrugged. “I think The Haven will be good for the twins even though I’m going to be rushed off my feet.”

“Because?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Victoria and the aunts have this place nearly booked solid for the next few months, not only for visiting foster kids but for parties and local events, including a bunch of Christmas festivities. I’m going to need a kitchen helper.”

“Don’t look at me. Tasting is what I do best. Good thing you have a dishwasher.” He grimaced at the dirty dishes still littering the counter. “How will you work with the twins underfoot?” The old protective instinct he’d always felt toward Adele bubbled inside. “You’re taking on a lot.”

“I’m not sure how anything will work,” she admitted as she drained the sink and swished water to clear the suds. “Least of all how it will work with Francie and Franklyn. But I refuse to see those children shuttled from place to place, like I was, like my foster sisters were until the aunts brought us here.”

“But—”

“The twins are sweet and loving, Mac.” Adele unfolded her spotless apron and set it aside. “They deserve to be able to relax and be kids without worrying about where they’ll be sent next.”

“Softhearted Delly.” He smiled at her feisty attitude. “You always did champion the less fortunate.” But there had to be more to her plan. He refilled their coffee then sat down at the table, determined to figure out exactly why his friend was doing this. Thankfully she was in a chatty mood. “Talk to me about this adoption.”

She sat and stared into her coffee for several moments.

“You know I had a miserable, abusive childhood. The aunties rescued me from that and brought me here, where there wasn’t constant fighting or parents making promises they never kept.”

“God used them,” he said, loving the way she appreciated all her foster aunts had done.

“For sure.” She huffed out a sigh. “Before I left Edmonton this time, I went to see both my parents. I thought maybe there was something I could do to heal the rifts between us, repair the bonds, start new relationships. We are family after all.”

“And?” Mac was sorry he’d asked when her face tightened, and her irises darkened.

“They’re divorced, haven’t lived together for years, have scarcely seen each other in eons. Both have remarried and divorced several times. Yet they’re still both miserable, blaming one another, lying about what the other one did to them, full of hate.” She shook her head. “I don’t want anything like that to touch Francie and Franklyn. They’ve had enough to deal with, losing their parents.”

“Mama Adele, shielding her cubs.” Mac savored this fiercely protective side of her.

“The long-held illusion that my parents and I could ever be a family, even a distant one, has finally been irrevocably shattered.” Her shoulders went back, her jaw thrust forward. “Now I’m determined to raise Francie and Franklyn with love and support and a solid trust in God’s love. On my own, until I can find Gina.”

“And if you don’t get permanent custody?” Mac felt a responsibility to prepare her.

“I’ll hate it,” she admitted honestly. “But I’ll still do everything I can to make sure they get in to the right home.” She studied him intently. “I can’t walk away from the twins, Mac. That’s not how my aunties raised me.”

“I know. That’s what I like most about you.” He smiled, brushed a tendril off her cheek. “I’ll help you however I can.” Why did she look so surprised? Hadn’t he always been there for Delly? Okay, maybe not lately but—“I care about the twins, too.”

“Thank you, Mac.” Adele’s smile warmed the cold, guilty place inside him.

Would she smile like that, even want him around, if she knew what a jerk he was? She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment and slid her arm around his waist, hugging him as she’d done so many times before.

“It’s so nice to have you back. My dear, dear honest best friend. Home at last.”

Mac froze, breathing in the scent of her flowery shampoo, marveling at the soft brush of her silky cheek against his, savoring the gentle intimacy that until this moment he hadn’t known he’d missed.

Friend?

Somehow that one expression didn’t seem to encapsulate all that he and Adele had shared. It didn’t say enough. But since he couldn’t come up with an alternative, he slipped his good arm around her and enjoyed the moment, content to remain right where he was. With Adele.

He deliberately ignored that word honest. He’d figure the future out later, after he talked with the aunts about God’s plan for his life.

* * *

Two days after Thanksgiving Adele still blushed at the memory of her sister finding them hugging in the kitchen. Though she and Mac both knew there’d been nothing romantic in that embrace, Victoria wouldn’t let it go.

“You care a lot about Mac, don’t you?” she asked now as she sipped her tea at the big kitchen table.

“Mac’s my best friend, Vic. Always has been. You know that.” Adele checked on the Swiss steak cooking in the oven, added potatoes to bake and a huge dish of rhubarb crisp. “There. Everything should be done in time for supper,” she said as she closed the door.

“Where are the twins?” Victoria glanced around.

“With Mac in the aunties’ herb garden, checking to see if there’s anything left out there that we can still use.”

“He sure comes over here a lot—”

“The Haven’s gardens had a good yield this year,” Adele interrupted, hoping to forestall more of Victoria’s questions about Mac. “It was nice to share the excess during the harvest day you organized for those needy families yesterday. Though I doubt the deer are grateful,” she added. Maybe her sister’s intense dislike of deer wreaking havoc in the garden could change the subject.

Fat chance.

“Is Mac staying to run the Double M?” Victoria ignored Adele’s hiss of irritation. “What? I’m just wondering, like everyone else in Chokecherry Hollow.”

“And you think I have the answer? I don’t know Mac’s future plans. I’m not sure he does, either.” Adele checked on the French bread she’d set to rise earlier and decided it was ready to form. “If he has decided, he has not told me,” she added firmly as she greased the bread pans.

“Since when doesn’t Mac McDowell talk everything over with you?” Victoria held up both hands at Adele’s glare. “Okay, ’nuff said. Except—I’m guessing Mac’s the reason you didn’t offer me that last piece of pumpkin pie sitting in the fridge. And here I thought our sister bond was strong.” Laughing, she strolled out of the room to answer a call from her husband, Ben.

With a grimace directed at her back, Adele shaped the bread into two pans, then began mixing dressing for the coleslaw she’d make when Jake, The Haven’s hired man, returned from the cold cellar with one of her aunt’s prized cabbages. Finished with her immediate task, she took a moment to savor the aroma-filled kitchen where she’d first learned to cook.

How blessed she’d been to live here with her foster aunts. They’d striven so hard to help her shed her bitterness against parents who’d lied to her about everything, including the visitor to their home that long-ago day, never explaining that she and Gina would be taken into foster care—permanently.

The aunties’ love and security had soothed those wounds. That healing love was what she wanted for the twins.

Adele roused from her gloomy thoughts as Mac opened the back door and ushered Franklyn and Francie inside. She loved the sound of the children’s laughter, and naturally Mac did everything he could to provoke more of it. It was refreshing to see him so engaged with kids again. In the old days he’d spoken often of his desire for a big family. But he’d mentioned nothing about a girlfriend. Was there now someone special in Mac’s world?

She peeked into the pail Mac held out. “Thanks.”

“Jake said you can use them. I’d spare you and take these weeds home to my mother but then she’d make something with them and I’d have to eat it.” He looked dubious.

“Not weeds. Basil, dill and parsley are always useful in my kitchen.” Since Mac’s grin did funny things to Adele’s stomach, she turned away to rinse the herbs before storing them in a drying dish. “Did you two have fun?”

It was obvious from the children’s excited chatter that they had.

“We found punkins,” Franklyn exclaimed.

“How many?” Adele asked.

“Tons and tons.” Francie waved her hands wildly.

“How many did you find, Francie?” Adele prodded, arching an eyebrow.

“Three,” the little girl admitted with a sigh.

“’Nuff so you c’n make punkin pie again?” Franklyn hinted hopefully, then high-fived Mac.

“Because everyone needs more pie right after our Thanksgiving feast?” Adele shot Mac a look, certain he’d come up with that plan.

“Uh-huh. Mac says everybody needs more pie all the time.” Franklyn nodded, unabashed.

“Does he?” She angled him a look. “Well, good work finding those pumpkins. Now you two go and wash up. Aunt Tillie and Aunt Margaret are waiting to tell you the next installment of their story about Africa.” She watched them leave, a happy glow inside. So far, Adele was loving motherhood.

“They’re cute, those two. But they sure keep a guy on his toes.” Mac sat down with a sigh and flexed his leg.

“Are you in pain?” Adele studied his face, wondering how she could help.

“No. Just a little stiff. I tried riding this morning.” Mac’s face gave nothing away.

“Great!” Riding was a sign he was staying, wasn’t it? “And?”

“No big deal. Cowboys ride and I am just a cowboy after all.” His wink reminded her of a long-ago argument when she’d given vent to her frustration at his show-off tendencies.

“And as you replied, I’m just a cook,” she reminded with a cheeky grin. Then she added, “Of course it’s a big deal that you got back on a horse, Mac.” Another thought occurred. “Did riding help you decide anything?”

“Adele.” His glower scolded her. “I haven’t decided anything yet, even though my parents are as eager as you to know if I’ll take over running the place. Dad wants to retire.”

“I saw him in town. He looked tired,” she murmured sympathetically.

“He has to slow down and it’s obvious he can’t do that as long as they live on the ranch because he won’t leave anything to their hired man, who is eminently capable.” Mac raked his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “Me—take over the ranch—I don’t know.” His troubled sigh touched her.

“What concerns you most?” She could at least encourage him to talk about his fears.

“It’s a total life change.”

“Because you’ll miss flying.” She nodded.

“It’s not just that. You of all people should know that I haven’t been the most stable guy in the world. I wasn’t very good at after-school jobs, remember?”

“Because you wanted to be on the ranch.” She waited, knowing there was more.

“I also dumped college, remember?” His mouth tipped down in a self-deprecating frown. “And I blew my last job. But I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down yet.”

“You had to be responsible when you were flying, Mac,” she reminded. Something in his expression altered. Was it her reminder about flying? “Anyway, you just said the Double M has a capable ranch manager in Gabe Webber. He knows as much about ranching as your dad. Can’t you leave most of the routine stuff up to him? Isn’t that why ranchers have hired men?”

“I guess. You make it sound like I don’t even really need to be there.” Her bestie didn’t look at her, so Adele knew there was something else.

“Talk to me, Mac.”

“You’ve changed since you left The Haven, Delly.” Those gorgeous eyes of his seemed sad. “You’ve matured. I’m not sure I have. Not enough.”

“Why do you say that?” Surprised to see Mac fiddle with a napkin, she pressed him. “How have I matured? Do I look old?” Her glance in the kitchen mirror produced a laugh from Mac.

“No! But you’re more focused, more determined than before. Your plan took a hit with your breakup, but you haven’t given up. You’re going after a new dream. I don’t even have a dream.” His grin was wry.

“So dream one.”

“I wish I could. It’s just—flying is like living life on the edge,” he mused aloud, struggling to give words to his feelings. “If things get too boring or too staid I might regret taking on the Double M, or worse, make a mess of it, which will then make my parents ashamed of me.”

“Like that would ever happen. They’re so proud of you,” she praised. “And don’t think I have all the answers or any cast-in-stone plans. All I know is I can’t give up my motherhood dream.” Confused by Mac’s now-glowering look she asked, “Tell me about flying your jets. What was it like?”

Immediately his slouch disappeared. His backbone straightened and his shoulders came to attention. His turquoise eyes sparkled with excitement, as if someone had switched on a light inside him.

“Oh, Delly, it’s amazing. There’s such freedom—nothing’s scripted. You have to think fast and improvise to survive. When I’m soaring through the clouds I feel like I can handle anything. And then I land.” Just as suddenly the light in him was snuffed out. “I guess I’m addicted to that adrenaline rush.”

“You don’t think you’ll find that on the Double M?” Oh, Lord, how can I help him?

“Maybe I could.” He didn’t sound convinced. “If I hadn’t lost my hand or injured my leg.”

“Did you feel a thrill like that when you lived here before?” she wondered aloud.

“Sometimes. Mostly at the rodeo or when I was breaking a very stubborn horse.” Mac’s troubled face sent a pang through her. “Remember how if I got restless I took off to the mountains. If I needed excitement, I’d hike the badlands. Or ski the backcountry. Or climb where tourists never go.”

All very risky activities, Adele mentally noted. Was he running to or away from something?

“I don’t have those options anymore,” he muttered.

“Mac, you can still ski—”

“I don’t want to go to Marmot Basin and stand in line while people gawk at me as I struggle to figure out how to manipulate myself on and off the chair lift with one hand,” he interrupted bluntly, his face dark. “I don’t want to have to always have someone with me to watch out for me when I white-water raft or climb a rock face. If you want the truth, Delly, if I can’t have what I had, I just want to hide.” His shoulders slumped. “Maybe the ranch is the best place to do that.”

Shocked by the despair in his words and voice, Adele was at a loss. It was no use telling her pal that he’d figure it out or find something else to give him the same high. This was Mac. He’d always gotten his high from life lived on the edge, and now he felt he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump my frustrations on you.” His hand covered hers and his gorgeous smile flashed, hiding the loss she’d seen revealed in his eyes mere moments earlier. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

“Stop it, Mac.” She jerked her hand from under his and rose, facing him as annoyance surged through her. “Stop pretending everything’s fine. I can take your honesty. I can’t take your fake acceptance of what life has handed you.”

To her complete exasperation he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on hips.

“You and your honesty.” Mac shook his head. “Spicy, tart, yet sweet and always, always that blunt demand for honesty. You’re the only one who has never let me get away with anything, do you know that, Delly?”

Adele didn’t know what to say.

“Remember the night I was going to go hot-rodding and you made me pull over so you could get out?”

“Yes.” Adele mostly remembered how maddened she’d been.

“You were always the voice of reason,” he said softly, studying her face. “I used to hear your voice sometimes when I was flying.”

“No doubt right before you were about to try some silly stunt.” She shuddered at the fleeting thought of her world without Mac.

“Sometimes.” He looked at his damaged arm. When he spoke next his voice was very quiet, almost as if he were talking to himself. “When I was going down the last time, I could almost hear you chewing me out for—”

“For what?” she nudged, curious to hear. But Mac’s face froze. He jerked to his feet.

“I need to get home. I should at least feed my own horses now that I’m back, not leave it to Dad.”

“Mac?” Adele waited until he was looking at her. “May I say something?” She smiled at his slow nod. “You can still do an awful lot, even take chances again, if you must. But maybe now you need to think ahead a bit more, plan it out. Set your goal, calculate the risk and decide if the payoff is big enough.”

“Ah, but spur-of-the-moment is half the fun, Delly.” His grin returned, as if the old Mac was back, but she knew it was a pretense. Unfortunately he left before she could think of a suitable comeback.

Adele began setting the table, her thoughts in a turmoil. The man was used to riding a roller coaster through life. He’d always thrived on action and if it wasn’t there, he’d created it. But Mac was bright, capable and adept at finding unconventional solutions to problems. She didn’t think that had changed.

What had changed was Mac’s fearlessness. The old Mac would never have cared if someone was watching him or not. He would have charged ahead and done what he wanted, gotten his thrill.

“I’m his friend, so somehow I have to help him see that ranching isn’t a dead end, that there’s still plenty of opportunity to live an exciting life on the Double M. But how do I do that, Lord?” she asked aloud. Past images of Mac with his precious miniature horses filled her mind. “Maybe I’ll start with them.”

Francie and Franklyn rushed into the room, raving about their story.

“It was about horses, huh?” Okay, God, I’m taking that as Your nudge. “How’d you like to go visit Mac on his ranch tomorrow? Maybe he’ll show you his horses. They’re just your size.”