Twin Blessings and Toward Home: Twin Blessings / Toward Home

So now what are you going to do? Sandra thought, dropping her knapsack on her tiny kitchen table. She pushed her hair from her face and blew out her breath in a gusty sigh.

She was pretty sure the man who had just dropped her off was the same Uncle Logan that Bethany and Brittany were always talking about. After all, what were the chances of two men having twin nieces living in Elkwater?

From the way the girls spoke of him she had pictured the mysterious uncle to be a portly gentleman, about sixty years old, with no sense of humor.

The real Uncle Logan was a much different story. Tall, thick dark hair that held a soft wave, eyebrows that could frown anyone into the next dimension, hazel eyes fringed with lashes that put hers to shame. His straight mouth and square jaw offset his feminine features big time.

The real Uncle Logan was a dangerous package, she thought. Dangerously good-looking, if one’s tastes ran to clean-cut corporate citizens like accountants. Architects, she corrected. She knew from the girls that Uncle Logan was an architect. She bet he had a closet full of suits at home.

Sandra shuddered at the thought. Her tastes never ran in that direction. If anything, they went in the complete opposite direction of anyone remotely like her father, the epitome of conventional and normal that Logan wanted so badly.

Suppressing a sigh, Sandra slipped into the tiny bedroom and quickly changed into the clothes she had planned to wear for her third and what could possibly be final day on the job. She was tempted to stay away, knowing that losing her job was inevitable, given the way Logan was talking in the car on the way up here, but she had made a deal with Florence Napier. And Sandra held the faint hope that Florence might come through for her.

The walk to the Napier cabin only took ten minutes, but with each step Sandra wondered at the implications for her future. She needed this job to pay for the shipment of glass that would only be delivered cash on delivery. Trouble was she only had enough cash for a few groceries and not near enough for the glass.

At one time she’d been a praying person, but she didn’t think God could be bothered with something as minor as a desperate need for money to pay bills.

As she rounded the corner, she saw Logan’s van parked beside Florence’s car, and her step faltered as she remembered what the girls had told her about Uncle Logan.

A tough disciplinarian who made them go to church every Sunday whether they wanted to or not. A man who kept them to a strict and rigid schedule.

A shiver of apprehension trailed down Sandra’s neck at the thought of facing Logan again. This time as her potential boss. A boss she had smart mouthed on the way here. Why had she done it? she thought.

Because he was just like her father, she reminded herself. Though Sandra knew she would never dare be as flippant with Josh Bachman as she was with the formidable Logan Napier.

The front door of the cabin opened, and Florence stepped out carrying a garment bag. She lifted her head at the same moment Sandra stepped forward.

“Oh, Sandra. Hello, darling. We’ve been waiting for you.” Florence set the garment bag on the hood of her little car and flowed toward Sandra, enveloping her in a hug. “The girls were wondering if you were even coming today.”

“I’m sorry.” Sandra made a futile gesture in the direction of Medicine Hat. “My car. I brought it in for a routine oil change but they found more trouble with it.”

“Goodness, how did you get here?”

Sandra caught her lip between her teeth as she glanced at Logan’s minivan. “I hitchhiked.”

“That’s my girl,” Florence said approvingly. “Innovative and not scared to accept a challenge.” Florence smiled, but Sandra sensed a measure of hesitation.

“So, where are the girls?” Sandra didn’t know her status, but she figured it was better to simply act as if she still had a job.

Florence laid an arm over Sandra’s shoulders, drawing her a short distance away from the house. “There’s been a small complication, Sandra,” Florence said, lowering her voice. “The girls’ uncle came here. Unexpectedly.” Florence laughed as if dismissing this minor problem.

Sandra gave her a weak smile in return. “And what does that mean?” As if she didn’t know. Staid Uncle Logan would hardly approve of a smart-mouthed hitchhiking tutor, regardless of her reasons.

“I think we’re okay, but you will have to talk to him.”

“Haven’t you talked to him yet? Haven’t you told him that you hired me? We had an agreement.”

Florence tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder, and that insignificant gesture told Sandra precisely how much influence Florence had with Uncle Logan.

None.

Florence looked at Sandra, her hand resting on Sandra’s shoulder. “It would probably be best if you spoke with him. Told him your credentials, that kind of thing.”

Sandra looked at Florence, whose gaze flittered away. “Okay. I will. Where is he?”

“He’s in the house. He’s unpacking, so I think that means he’ll be staying at least tonight.” Florence turned, giving Sandra a light push in the direction of the house. “You go talk to him. You’ll do fine.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sandra muttered as she faced the house. She took a deep breath and walked purposefully toward the cabin. Up the stairs, her footsteps echoing on the wood, and then she was standing at the door.

She knocked, hesitant at first, then angry with her indecisiveness, knocking harder the second time.

The door opened almost immediately, making Sandra wonder if he had been watching to see if she would come to the house.

Logan stood framed by the open door. He looked as conservative as he had when he picked her up. Khaki pants, a cotton button-down shirt. All he was missing was a pair of glasses and a pocket protector.

“Hi,” she said with a forced jocularity. “You know who I am. Now you know what I am.”

Logan wasn’t smiling, however. “Come on in, Sandra. We need to talk.”

Sandra knew that though she may have weaseled a smile out of him this afternoon, she probably wouldn’t now.

Chapter Two

As Sandra walked past him, Logan caught his mother’s concerned look. But Florence stayed where she was.

He wasn’t surprised that his mother didn’t come rushing in to support the person she had hired. Confrontation wasn’t Florence’s style.

Logan closed the door quietly and turned to face Sandra. She wore a dress with short sleeves. Demure and much more suited to a teacher than the shorts and tank top she had on this afternoon. She had tied up her hair earlier into some kind of braid, finishing the picture.

“Are the girls around?” Sandra asked, her hands clasped in front of her.

“They’re upstairs, I think. They haven’t dared to come down yet.” Logan rested his hands on his hips as he studied her. She was as pretty as before, but definitely not the type of girl he wanted teaching his flighty nieces. They needed an older, stronger influence.

“Do I pass?” she asked suddenly, her brown eyes narrowed.

Logan held her gaze. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Sandra, but you don’t have a job. The girls and I are heading back to Calgary tomorrow.”

“I thought they were staying here for the summer.”

“They were.” Logan put emphasis on the last word. “But their antics and those of my mother have proved to me that they are better off in Calgary where I can keep a close eye on them.” It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but he certainly wasn’t going to leave them with someone like her.

“Your mother hired me to teach the girls for the rest of the summer. We had an agreement.”

Logan heard the contentious tone in her voice but wasn’t moved by it. “I’m the legal guardian of these girls, and I’m the one who has to make decisions that I think are best for them. Not my mother.”

“And you wouldn’t consider letting the girls stay and having me tutor them?”

Logan shook his head. His nieces had spent enough of their life living around unsuitable people when their parents were alive, carting them around from boat race to boat race. It had taken him a couple of months just to get them into a normal household routine, let alone a schoolwork one. The last thing he wanted was for all his careful and loving work to be undone by someone whose character he knew precious little of. A woman whose first impression was hardly stellar.

“So you’re dismissing me out of hand.” Her voice rose ever so slightly. “Without even considering my credentials as a teacher.”

“What references do you have? Have you ever worked as a teacher since you graduated?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“So what have you done?”

Sandra said nothing, and Logan couldn’t help but remember her casual comments about work as they had driven here.

“I’m sorry, Sandra,” he said. “I have to make a judgment call in this situation.”

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that I was hitchhiking this afternoon?”

Logan didn’t know what to say. Should he tell an untruth or be bluntly honest?

She laughed shortly. “I can’t believe this. I’m perfectly qualified….” She let the sentence slide off.

Logan’s shoulders lifted in a sigh as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I didn’t interview you, Sandra. I had chosen another eminently qualified tutor…”

“I have a Bachelor of Education degree,” Sandra stated. “With a major in history and a minor in English. Nothing wrong with that, I’m sure.”

Logan bristled at her tone. “I have my nieces’ well-being to consider, besides their education.”

Sandra held his steady gaze, then her eyes drifted away. “I see.” She darted another angry look his way. “Then I’ll be on my way.” She strode past him and out of the house.

Logan watched her go, fighting a moment’s panic. It would solve so many things if he were to let the girls stay with Sandra. He was in the middle of a hugely important project and he needed all the free time he could get.

But common sense made him keep his mouth shut. Common sense and an innate concern for his nieces. They needed stability and a firm hand. Something that had been sorely lacking in their life.

And, when he was younger, his own.

Logan spent his teen years moving from school to school, dragged across the country by parents searching for the elusive perfect job.

Education wasn’t taken seriously in this branch of the Napier family, and as a consequence Logan and his sister Linda’s schooling suffered. Always behind academically, Logan dedicated every spare moment to catching up, to striving to get out of the rut his parents seemed willing to flow along in. Then, when Logan was in high school, his father died and Florence Napier was forced to settle down for a while.

During this time Logan pulled himself out of the endless routine of constant movement. He applied himself to finishing high school and going to college. Six years ago he graduated with his degree and was much happier than he had ever been during his aimless childhood.

However, Linda, the twins’ mother, had been caught up in the same ceaseless wandering, hooking up and marrying a man who raced speedboats for thrills and the occasional cash prize. An aquatic cowboy who didn’t know where his own parents were. Brittany and Bethany were headed in the same direction until a tragic accident claimed Logan’s sister and her husband’s life. To his mother’s surprise Logan had been named not only guardian but also executor of the small estate the girls had inherited.

Bethany and Brittany’s arrival changed everything in Logan’s life, but he was determined to do right by them. To take care of them. To make sure that any influence in their life was positive and stable.

A young woman like Sandra Bachman was not the kind of person he wanted tutoring these impressionable young girls.

With a sigh and another quick prayer, he turned to the next task at hand.

“Okay, girls. You can stop listening in and come down.”

Two heads popped above the blanket draped over the balustrade of the loft. Both blond, both cute, both looking slightly chastened.

Brittany, the bolder of the two, bounced down the stairs as only a young girl could and landed in front of him, her hands tucked in the pockets of her very baggy white pants. Bethany followed a few paces behind, looking a little more subdued than her counterpart.

Brittany lifted her shoulders, looking genuinely puzzled. “So I guess you came here earlier than you figured. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a while?”

Logan shook his head slowly, as if for emphasis. “I have a special project I need to work on. You know work? The thing that keeps you in those ridiculous clothes?” He pressed his lips together, frustrated at the anger that had surged to the fore. But today had not been a good day, and right now he was all out of magical patience.

Brittany slowly tilted her head as if searching for some kind of answer.

Logan didn’t wait for her to find it. “You and Bethany had better hustle yourselves back upstairs and start packing. We’re leaving for Calgary tomorrow.”

“What?” The word spilled out of both girls’ mouths at the same time.

“We can’t go now…You promised…You said we’d stay here all summer.” Their sentences tumbled over and through each other.

“We’ve only been here a couple of weeks,” Bethany wailed.

Logan glanced at the more docile of the pair, and he felt the hard edges of his anger blur. “Sorry, hon. You guys had your chance and you blew it. We’re going back.”

“We didn’t know it was a test,” Brittany cried, her blue eyes glistening.

“It wasn’t a test,” Logan growled, trying manfully to face down the tears that spilled down both their cheeks. “I don’t want to stay here, your grandmother has decided to chase some dream, and you chased off your last tutor, so you have to come back with me.”

“But why can’t Sandra teach us?” Bethany sniffed, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. She sat down on the lowest step, still sniffling.

Logan sighed, plowing his hand through his hair. He could feel himself wavering and knew he shouldn’t. He could deal with upstart contractors and rude co-workers, but his nieces’ tears always unmanned him.

“Because I don’t think she is capable. That’s why.”

“But we had hoped to stay. We haven’t been here since Mom and Dad…” Brittany’s voice broke, and she sat beside her sister, pressing her hands against her face, unable to finish.

Logan’s heart melted completely. It had been eighteen months since the girls’ parents were killed. This summer was the first time they had come back to this place where they and their parents would often stop by on their way to the next destination. It was one of the few constants in their childhood.

It had been difficult enough for him to lose his sister. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was for them to lose both parents. And now he was going to take them away from the one place they had fond memories of.

He sat on the step between the girls and put his arms awkwardly around their narrow shoulders. “Oh, sweeties,” he said, stroking their arms, wishing he knew exactly what to say. Brittany leaned against him, sniffing loudly.

“Can we stay just for a little while?” Brittany murmured.

Logan considered his options as he drew her close. He had counted on staying here and working for a couple of weeks anyhow. It would take at least a couple of days to find another tutor, even if he did leave tomorrow. Which meant he would be stuck with two cranky girls in a condo in Calgary.

Hold your ground, he reminded himself. Don’t let them think all they have to do is cry and they can get their way.

But while the rational part of his mind argued the point, his shirt was getting damp from his nieces’ tears. Tears that he knew were genuine.

“I suppose we could stay here for a little while.” He relented, ignoring a riffle of panic. He had three weeks to brainstorm an idea for a house, do a drawing and create blueprints, then another week to build a model of the idea.

The biggest hitch in all of this was that he didn’t have an idea.

You don’t have time for this, the sane part of his mind said.

“For a little while? Really?” Bethany lifted her head as a tear slid silently down her cheek.

Logan sighed, bent over and dropped a light kiss on her head. “Yes, really.”

He was rewarded with a feeble smile.

“Thank you, Uncle Logan,” Bethany said, wiping her cheeks as she sat up.

“But I need your help.” He tried to sound stern. “No fooling around. Just do what I ask.”

“So that means no schoolwork?” Brittany asked.

Logan sighed. “No. It means I’ll have to help you with it until we get back to Calgary. I’m going to start looking for a tutor right away.”

Brittany’s face fell. “And what about Sandra?”

“I told you already, she is not teaching you. And I’m not going to talk about it while we’re here.”

He almost missed the glint in Bethany’s eye as she glanced at her sister. But as she looked at him, her blue eyes guileless as ever, he figured he must have imagined it.

“And there’s no way I could get an advance from you?” Sandra bit her lip as she heard what she knew she would. The restaurant would absolutely not give her a dime until she delivered twenty lamps as promised. She knew that, but thought she would give it a try. “Thanks, then. No, there’s no problem. I have other resources,” she lied. She hung up the phone.

“I’m not going to worry, I’m not going to worry,” Sandra muttered as she grabbed her sweater and slipped it over her shoulders. Trouble was, try as she might, she couldn’t stifle the panic that fluttered in her chest.

After months of work and inexpert marketing, she had gotten the first break with her stained glass work. A restaurant in Calgary had ordered twenty lamp-shades. If they liked her work, she had a good chance to make more for some of their other locations.

Trouble was she was desperately short of money. The unexpected move here from Saltspring Island in British Columbia had cut into her meager savings. She had one month’s rent paid on the cabin, and Cora, her friend and roommate, was nowhere to be found.

Working for Florence Napier had been the blessing she had been looking for.

And now that was over, too. Her broken-down car wouldn’t even allow her to work in Medicine Hat.

Sandra took a deep breath, then another, hoping the mad flutters in her heart would settle once she started on her usual evening walk.

Outside, the sun’s penetrating warmth had softened and a faint breeze wafted off the lake.

Sandra paused, letting the evening quiet soothe her.

Except it didn’t.

She buttoned her sweater and started down the street toward the boardwalk that edged the beach and followed the lake. Her steady tread on the boards echoed hollowly, creating a familiar rhythm.

What to do, what to do, what to do.

Phone home?

The thought slipped insidiously through her subconscious. She let it drift a moment, then pushed it ruthlessly aside.

Phone home and hear how useless she was? Phone home and hear, “Why don’t you do anything constructive with that education degree I paid so much money for?”

Sandra shivered, even though it was warm. Conforming was the way things happened in her home. Conform and you get to come along on promised trips. Conform and your education will be paid for. Conform and Father would deign to talk to you. Sandra conformed, trying in vain to live up to the expectations of a father who was never satisfied. She got her degree, and as soon as she could, she fled. All the way to Vancouver Island.

Five years and a hundred experiences later, Sandra’s flight from conformity had washed her up here, in Cypress Hills, a four-hour drive from where she started, flat broke with a roommate who had flittered off again.

The evening breeze picked up a little, riffling the water and teasing her hair. Sandra sucked in another breath and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to give up. Not yet.

She ambled along the boardwalk, her arms wrapped around herself. Life was still good, she thought, raising her face to the unbearable blue of the Alberta sky. She was still alive and still free, and no one could put a price on that.

“Hey, Sandra.”

Sandra lowered her head, wondering who had called her. She looked around and saw Bethany and Brittany sitting on a bench, swinging their legs.

“Hey, yourself.” She walked over, happy to see these two very rambunctious girls. “You out on the town tonight?”

Brittany glanced at Bethany, then at Sandra. “Yup. Uncle Logan is buying us an ice cream.”

“Then I’d better leave you alone.” The last thing Sandra wanted was to come face to face with Logan only half a day after being fired by him.

“Here you are, girls.” Logan’s deep voice sounded behind her, and Sandra whirled.

Logan looked up and halted, his expression unreadable. “Hello, Sandra,” he said, his steady gaze flicking to his nieces and then to her.

“Don’t worry,” she said crisply. “I haven’t had a chance to really corrupt them yet.”

Logan said nothing as he handed the cones to the girls. “Why don’t you take a walk, Bethany? Brittany?”

The girls giggled and scampered down the beach toward the water.

“I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other, Mr. Napier,” Sandra said, wrapping her sweater around her. She forced herself to meet his hazel eyes and not to be moved by his casual good looks. A man who wore khaki pants to the beach, whose hair never looked messy, who drove a minivan was exactly the kind of guy her father would love. A conformist. Stifling.

Logan’s gaze was steady as he slipped his hands into his back pockets. “I’m sorry that you lost the job—”

“You made me lose the job, Mr. Napier.”

“Fair enough. I’m just sorry that it didn’t work out.”

“It didn’t work out because you chose not to let it,” Sandra snapped. “You’ve got your own ideas about who and what I am—”

“I got my ideas from what you told me.”

“And based on that you know who I am?”

“Based on what you told me, I’m making a guess.” Logan rocked slightly on his heels, still watching her with that unnerving gaze. “I don’t think I’m too far off. I have my nieces to think of.”

Sandra tried not to get defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Everything about him seemed to condemn her out of hand. “Implying that I’m not going to contribute to their well-being.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

Sandra wasn’t sure. It was more than needing the job. Maybe it was because Logan personified the very thing she had been running from, and his judgment stung her pride. Maybe it was because even after spending a couple of days with Brittany and Bethany she was getting attached to the two girls who had lost so much.

Or maybe it was panic at the idea that she had tried to live her life on her own and losing even this small job proved to her the magnitude of her failure.

But Logan didn’t need to have one more thing to judge her by. Didn’t need to know precisely how close to the bone she was living right now.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly, turning away. She took a few steps down the boardwalk, then heard Logan call her.

She didn’t want to turn but couldn’t stop herself.

“Yes?” she asked, forcing a casual tone to her voice.

“Nothing,” he said, lifting his hand as if in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Sandra just nodded and walked on.

“So now what are we going to do?” whispered Brittany as she and Bethany huddled beside each other on the floor of their bedroom. Their lights were out. Below them, they could hear the faint tapping of Uncle Logan’s computer keys.

“I thought for sure he would like her,” Bethany said wistfully. “And now we have to leave.”

Brittany flapped her hand. “So, we’ll just have to go ahead with Plan B, I guess.”