Wanted: Christmas Mummy

“Leslie said for you to take your medicine. She didn’t say anything about you getting out of bed.” Justin held out his hand, showing his father the pills he was carrying.

“Leslie is not the boss around here! I am!” he shouted before clutching his head. The stubborn looks on his children’s faces told him he’d made a mistake. With a sigh, he quickly informed them why he needed his crutches and Justin laid down the pills on the bedside table and brought the crutches to his bed.

“Why didn’t you ask Leslie?” he asked as he held them for his father.

“It was kind of embarrassing,” Doug muttered, not bothering to explain that he’d insulted her before he thought to do so. And then it was too late.

After the difficult excursion to the bathroom, Doug was glad to settle back against the pillows. “Thanks, guys. How’s everything going?”

After listening to their complaints the entire month since Agnes had departed, Doug expected more of the same. Instead, his children happily recounted their activities, with Leslie’s name playing a large role in the recital.

“And we made the bestest cookies, Daddy,” Justin assured him, a heavenly smile on his little face, as if he were munching on his favorite treat right then.

“And you didn’t bring me one?” Doug teased, unable to resist the happiness his sons were showing.

“I’ll go get you one,” Justin promised fervently and rushed to the door.

“Bring him one I made, too,” Gareth called, and then patted him on the shoulder. “Leslie showed us how to do it.”

“That was nice of Leslie,” he assured his son. The woman seemed to be a master at enslaving his children. Didn’t she have them complaining about being bored? Getting into mischief? Begging her to read them a story?

Or maybe she had mesmerized them with the heavenly scents coming up the stairway. The house smelled better than it had when his mom was downstairs cooking.

“And you know what, Daddy?”

“No, Gareth. What?”

“Leslie can tell us apart. She don’t never have to ask.”

Doug could always tell them apart, but he and Moss were about the only ones. Somehow it seemed intrusive for Leslie to be able to. “How does she do that?”

“She said ‘cause we’re not the same person. And ‘cause I have a freckle right here,” Gareth said, pointing to his nose and chuckling.

Doug admired her perception, but he wasn’t about to say so. His boys already seemed to adore the blasted woman.

Justin appeared in the doorway, but he wasn’t alone. Standing behind him was Leslie, a tray in her hand. Her lips were tightened in a firm line and her gaze didn’t meet his. “Justin wanted you to have a cookie, but I think you should eat something solid before you do.”

He suddenly realized his stomach was empty. His last meal had been the sandwiches and soup she’d prepared last night. On his best behavior, he said, “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“If you’ll sit up, the boys will fix the pillows behind your back,” she instructed, still keeping her gaze on the tray.

Once more, he watched as his boys rushed to fulfill her every command. He frowned but tried to hide his irritation. After all, she was being nice to him. He leaned back against the pillows and thanked his children.

“Leslie says we’re her best helpers,” Justin announced proudly, leaning against his father’s shoulder. “She doesn’t know where anything is.”

“Anything what?” Doug asked sharply, a sudden vision filling him of Leslie going through his belongings, trying to assess his net worth.

“All your hidden valuables, of course,” the woman said coldly as she plopped the tray into his lap.

He flinched and grabbed the wobbling tray. Obviously she had understood his meaning even if his children hadn’t.

“Boys, why don’t you stay and keep your dad company while he eats, and I’ll go down and put the vegetables in the stew.”

“I thought you were leaving?” Doug couldn’t help asking.

She halted on her way out of the room, but she kept her back to him. “I am. Just as soon as the cowboys get back. It would be irresponsible to leave the children alone.”

“You’re leaving?” Justin asked anxiously, taking a step toward her.

“Yes, sweetie. Remember, I told you earlier I couldn’t stay. Now, take care of your daddy until I get back.”

Both boys turned to glare at their father as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Daddy, we don’t want her to leave! She makes great cookies!” Gareth complained.

Doug, on the other hand, wanted that woman gone, not mixing in his business, or worming her way into the hearts of his employees, like she had his children.

Yeah, he was glad to get rid of her. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll find someone else to take care of us. We don’t need Leslie. Bring me the phone.”

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? She’ll make a perfect mommy,” Justin whispered. The twins were sitting on the stairs, waiting for Leslie’s return.

“I don’t know. Daddy doesn’t like her. Don’t daddies have to like the mommy?”

“Mrs. Meggy’s husband likes her. He’s always hugging on her. I saw him kiss her once.”

“Daddy and Leslie was fightin’. She don’t want to stay.” Gareth rested his drooping chin in his hand. “And she didn’t even fuss when I broke that glass.”

“Yeah. Agnes would’a spanked you.”

Both boys sighed in unison.

“There must be something we can do,” Justin finally said.

“I don’t know what,” Gareth admitted and sighed again.

“Me neither…unless—” Justin broke off and stared at his brother.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Break her car. Then she couldn’t leave.”

“Hey, yeah! But how do we do it?”

“MRS. WILLIAMS? This is Doug Graybow at the Bar-G. I had an accident last night and—no, it’s nothing serious, just a broken leg. Yes, thank you. The reason I’m calling is I need someone to take care of me and the twins for a— Mrs. Williams, I promise— Mrs. Williams?”

He hung up the receiver. Mrs. Williams made her feelings clear. And who could blame her after the fiasco the last time that she baby-sat? The twins had almost flooded the house.

Who else could he call? He’d talked to Ben, but he said Meggy wasn’t feeling well.

The widow Hicks had gone to stay with her daughter in Chicago.

Mrs. White had told him she’d sprained her wrist, but Doug didn’t believe her. She prided herself on keeping everything in its place, and his twins wouldn’t cooperate.

He’d even called the pastor of his church, but the man had had no idea of anyone who could help. When Doug had admitted that Leslie had stayed overnight to help, the pastor had suggested he plead with her to stay.

Damn. Instead, he’d done the opposite.

Well, they’d just have to manage. There were some things he couldn’t do, even for his sons, and marrying was one of them.

“DO YOU LIKE COOKING, Leslie?” Justin asked. Once she had returned from the bunkhouse, the boys had attached themselves to her side.

“Why, yes, sweetie, I do. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause you was humming a song. Agnes wouldn’t even let us stay in the kitchen with her, and she was always frowning.”

“Maybe she was tired,” Leslie suggested diplomatically. The more she heard about Agnes, however, the less she thought she’d been good for the boys.

“Leslie, do you have any kids?” Gareth asked, resting his chin in one palm as he watched her.

“No,” she told him as she lifted the piecrust she’d been rolling out onto a pie plate. She shot a quick glance at the boys and then looked away. She sure was enjoying her time with these two kids.

“Don’t you want any?” Justin chimed in, moving to get on his knees in the chair with his brother and lean against the cabinet.

“Well, someday. I have to find a husband first.”

“Why?”

That question stopped Leslie. She shot a quick look at the concentration on the boys’ faces and hid her smile. “Because that’s how you do it. First you get married and then you have kids.” At least that was the way people should do it.

Before they could ask any more questions, she gathered the scraps of leftover piecrust. “Now it’s your turn to cook.”

She taught them to butter the dough, sprinkle it with sugar and cinnamon and put it in the oven.

“Does it taste good?” Gareth asked, his gaze glued to the pan.

“Sure does. My mother used to help me make them when I was your age.”

“She sounds like a great mama,” Justin said with a sigh.

“Yes, she was.”

“Isn’t she your mama anymore?”

Leslie smiled at his serious little face. “She’ll always be my mama, Justin, but she’s dead now.”

“Oh. So’s our mama.”

“Do you remember her?” Leslie asked, even though she felt guilty about doing so. She knew their father wouldn’t like her asking questions.

Both boys shook their heads no.

“We was little babies.”

The buzzer on the oven halted their conversation and for the next few minutes both boys were more interested in eating the pie dough treats with a glass of milk.

“There’s only three left, Leslie. Do you want one?” Justin asked.

“No, thanks.”

“What are you making now?”

“A chicken casserole that can be frozen for dinner tomorrow night.” Concentrating on her cooking, Leslie didn’t notice the silence for several minutes. When she did, she turned to observe her audience, only to find the two of them whispering.

“Is anything wrong?”

“We was wonderin’, Leslie, if we could take these three pieces to Daddy?” Justin asked. “He would like them.”

She checked her watch. It was a little after three. He might be waking up from the last dose of medication. “That’s very thoughtful of you, boys. If you’ll be careful, you can take some milk up, too.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No. I’m sure you can manage on your own.” Truth was, she had no intention of going to that man’s bedroom ever again. Every time she did, all she could think about was how it felt to be pressed against his long body.

The boys climbed the stairs carefully. When they pushed open the door, they discovered their father lying in bed, his eyes open.

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