Adopted: Twins!

‘This way.’ He led them, minus their shoes, to the back of the house. Here were two bedrooms side by side, with a bathroom between. To Erin’s delight, the beds were freshly made, as if he’d been expecting guests any day.

‘It’s another legacy from my mother,’ he told her, seeing her look of surprise. ‘The bedrooms stay immaculate at all times in case of unexpected visitors. That’s you. Unexpected visitors.’ He managed another of his smiles, and even though it was crooked and weary it was a smile that made a girl want to take a backward step.

Or a forward step?

But he was talking in a dragging voice that had Erin suddenly looking sharply up at him. She needed to focus here. The burn on his forehead was blistering badly and his eyes were red-rimmed from the smoke. He might be hero material but he was badly shocked and he’d inhaled a lot more smoke than she had.

‘I’m afraid they won’t stay immaculate if my twins are sleeping in them,’ she said apologetically, and then, propelling her charges into the bathroom, she turned back to him with decision written all over her. House mother personified. ‘You go and take a shower yourself,’ she said. ‘And then go straight to bed.’

‘We’ll see. I do need to eat. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when the twins are settled.’ He managed a rueful smile. ‘That is, if you dare leave them alone.’

‘They’ll be good tonight,’ Erin told him, and she smiled as she ruffled the twins’ soot-blackened hair. The children were so tired they were sagging on their feet. ‘Won’t you, boys? I think any mischief has been blasted right out of you.’

‘We’re sorry, Erin.’

It was the first whisper she’d had out of either of them. She’d run a bath, washed them to within a whisker of their lives, rubbed them dry on Matt’s mother’s sumptuous white towels—and still managed to leave a streak or two of grey on the gorgeous linen—and then cradled them into bed. They shared the one bed, despite there being twin beds in the room.

In times of trouble these two stuck together and they were sticking together now.

And all the time they’d stayed silent.

Now, dressed in some very strange and ill-fitting pyjamas, they looked up at her from their shared pillow, and their eyes were still glazed with shock and fear and remorse.

‘We only made the bomb to scare Pansy,’ William said, trembling, and if he hadn’t sounded so pathetic Erin might have been tempted to laugh. Oh, heck… Pansy Poodle?

‘Why on earth would you want to scare Pansy?’

‘So Mr and Mrs Cole would move away and stop being nasty to you.’

That was all she needed! She was overtired and overemotional and now she had to blink back tears. They were such terrors but there was always a motive. They had such good little hearts.

Somehow she schooled her features into sternness, and hugged them both.

‘Well, we were very, very lucky that Mr McKay came to save us. You’ll promise me you’ll never, ever play with fireworks or matches again? Not even to scare Pansy?’

‘We promise,’ Henry told her and she looked down and knew that she had their word.

It wouldn’t be a bomb next time. Something else for sure, but not a bomb.

She tucked them in, hugged them again for good measure and wondered where Tigger was now. They loved Tigger, and when they realised he’d been burned… It didn’t bear thinking of.

Then she looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Matt was standing in the doorway. He was clean now, big and bronzed and capable, dressed in clean jeans and an open necked shirt and with only the burn on his forehead to show any damage had been done.

He was back to the farmer she knew.

Charlotte was one lucky lady, Erin thought suddenly. A class above the likes of her or not, Matthew McKay was not bad as husband material.

Not only was he extremely good looking, with his thatch of sun-bleached brown curls, his weathered skin and his strongly muscled frame, but his deep brown eyes were twinkling with kindness. In his hands he held two mugs, and he carried them carefully over to the bedside table for the boys.

‘My Grandma always used to say a glass of warm milk is the best cure in a crisis,’ he told the twins. ‘So I brought you boys one each. There’s another for Erin when she’s had her shower.’ And then he smiled at Erin—a smile that somehow had the capacity to knock her senses reeling. ‘Off you go, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re clean.’

Darn, she must be more exhausted than she thought, Erin decided. She really was very close to tears, and his kindness was almost her undoing.

‘I’ve also brought my very favourite story book from when I was seven,’ he told her, motioning to a book tucked under his arm. ‘It’s all about fire engines. So I propose that you go and clean up while I read to the boys.’

‘Your throat…’

‘Hurts,’ he finished for her. ‘Well guessed. I’d imagine yours does, too. Luckily my book’s mostly pictures so the boys and I just have to look. So scoot.’ He smiled down at the two nervous little boys in their shared bed, and his smile was encompassing and kind. ‘Is that okay with you guys?’ he asked them. ‘It seems a bit unfair that we’re clean and Erin’s not.’

The boys considered in silence—and then slowly nodded in unison.

‘Great.’ Matt’s smile widened and he sank down onto the bed beside Erin. It was sort of crowded down there—four on the bed—but it was familiar and very, very comforting after the fear of the last hours. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he told Erin softly, ‘but I’m pooped and the sooner we get this lot asleep the sooner we can get to bed ourselves.’

Absolutely.

He was perfectly right.

So why did his words bring a blush to her face as she rose and headed gratefully to the bathroom?

And those tears were definitely still threatening.

By the time she’d showered, the twins were solidly, absolutely asleep. Wrapped in one of Louise’s vast towels, Erin checked them from all angles and decided it’d take another bomb to wake them, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.

She didn’t blame them. She was exhausted herself, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.

He’d meet her in the kitchen, he’d said, but she couldn’t go and find him wrapped only in a towel. Her own clothes were disgusting, so she hauled on an enormous dressing gown she found in the donations pile and made her way through the house to find him.

The house was huge. Vast! It must have six or seven bedrooms, she thought as she padded barefoot down the passage, and when Matt emerged from a door in front of her she practically squeaked in fright.

‘Hey, I’m no ghost.’ Still those eyes twinkled as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Uh, oh. You’re done in.’

‘You must be, too.’ She looked up at him and saw that his eyes were still reddened slightly from the smoke and the burn on his forehead had blistered further. ‘You look a darn sight worse than me.’

‘I’d have to agree there.’ The laughter lines deepened as he took in her total appearance. ‘But only just. What you’re doing in a bathrobe that looks like it was designed for Mother Hubbard…’

That brought a chuckle. The robe was enormous. She swam in it, and it trailed out behind her like a flannelette bridal train.

His voice softened as he realised why she was wearing it. ‘Hell! I guess you’ll have all lost your own clothes.’

She had. She’d barely had time to take it in yet, but it was something she’d have to face. Most of her belongings were back in the blackened, smouldering ruin. However…

‘They were just things,’ she said resolutely, trying not to think of her mother’s seed pearl necklace that she’d loved so much. ‘Things can be replaced.’

‘You’re one brave lady.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life as I was this evening. I thought I’d lost them.’

‘The boys.’

‘Yes.’ He was leading her into the kitchen as they spoke, and at last she relaxed. Unlike the rest of the house, this felt like a proper home. The kitchen had ancient polished floorboards, big comfy furniture, a huge wooden table and cushioned chairs, and a settee than made you want to bounce and sink out of sight.

A gleaming Aga was sending out its gentle warmth across the kitchen, and an ancient collie dog looked quizzically up at her as she entered. He thumped his tail gently against the floor and then went straight back to sleep.

This was home, she thought. This was a real home.

Damn, she had to blink back tears again. The waterworks were surely ready to pounce tonight. The fear had driven every ounce of strength from her.

Bed.

She should go to bed, but…

‘Hot chocolate and a brandy,’ Matt was saying. ‘I know I told the kids warm milk, but you and I need something stronger. I’ve eaten toast. Do you want something to eat? No? Then just a drink and then bed.’ He turned away to fetch mugs and glasses, and while he was faced away his voice changed. ‘You love them, don’t you?’

‘Who?’ She leaned against a chair to steady herself—her legs seemed to have lost all their strength—but she knew instinctively who he was talking about. His next words confirmed it.

‘The twins.’

The hot chocolate made, he turned back to her and gestured for her to sit. There was nothing for it. In her ridiculous night wear she sat, sinking into his squishy chair like she was drowning. She took the chocolate and cradled it, drawing strength from the warmth of the mug.

She thought of the twins and her mouth twisted. ‘I’m pretty fond of them.’

‘You’re a House Mother,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I thought you’re not supposed to get attached to your charges.’

‘You mean I’m not supposed to care if they go up in flames?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’ He was watching her face. ‘The boys are different, though, aren’t they? To you.’

She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘Why?’

That was harder to answer. She thought about it and gave him the easy answer. ‘It’s probably because they’ve been with me more than most. Kids don’t tend to stay in orphanages any more. They get adopted or fostered out as soon as we can find someone who’ll take them. Fifty years ago we used to have scores of orphans. Now we have kids like Tess and Michael who are in for short-term crisis care, or the baby Lori’s taken for me. She’s been with us while her mother made the decision to allow her to be adopted.’

‘And the twins?’

‘That’s the problem. We can’t find anyone for the twins.’

There. It was said—the stark reality that hurt just to think of it.

‘Why not?’ Matt said, watching her face.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Liar.’

She shrugged, and then gave him a weary smile. ‘No. I’m not a liar and I do find it hard to understand. They’re adorable. But the twins push people away, you see.’

‘I don’t see.’

‘You may well see it soon.’ She sighed. ‘Look, they were the product of a one-night stand. Their mother doesn’t remember who their father is, and she has seven other kids to look after. To be honest, the twins reached their mother’s IQ level when they were about three. I’d reckon whoever fathered them wasn’t lacking in the intelligence quotient and they’re smart as paint. Anyway, she can’t cope with them, she rejected them absolutely and she threw them at us for adoption. Unfortunately they were old enough to understand what was happening.’

‘And they’re taking it out on the world?’

‘Only on whoever is deemed to threaten them. And now they expect to be rejected. They won’t let anyone close because they know it’ll end.’ Erin sighed. She was bone-weary and the comfort of the hot chocolate and the sympathy in this man’s eyes was more than enough to push her over the edge. He’d poured her a brandy but she wasn’t game enough to drink it. Her eyes wanted to close so badly…

‘Sleep,’ he said, and leaned over and took the mug from her hands before she dropped it. ‘You’ll find toothbrushes and everything you need in the bathroom.’

‘I already have.’ Her tired eyes smiled. ‘Your mother must have been the best hostess in the district—and you haven’t let her standards slip one bit.’

‘I’m not allowed to.’ He smiled back at her and his weary smile touched something in her insides which hadn’t been touched in a very long time. If ever. ‘Charlotte’s trained the redoubtable Mrs Gregory for me, and she sees to it that everything’s pristine.’

‘Uh, oh.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Before she knew what he intended, he reached forward and took both her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet and then stood for a moment, looking down into her troubled eyes. ‘I’m sure you and me and the twins and Mrs Gregory will get along just famously.’

And Charlotte? Erin added under her breath but she didn’t say it. Instead she looked up at Matt, a crease of worry still behind her eyes.

‘Doc Emily said I should keep an eye on you tonight. You did lose consciousness.’

‘I did,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But I don’t want checking every hour, thank you very much. If I promise not to die in the night, will you promise to go and put your head down on the pillow and let tomorrow’s worries wait until tomorrow?’

Those dratted tears… Damn, they threatened to be her undoing.

She blinked and sniffed and then blinked again.

‘Fine then. Um…you have put something on that burn?’ She was under no illusions that Charlotte would kill her if it got infected.

‘I have at that,’ he told her. ‘It’s cleaned and it’s nicely antiseptic. So we can both go to bed with a clear conscience. Goodnight, Erin.’

‘Goodnight, Matt. And…thank you.’

And then, because she looked so rumpled and lost and forlorn he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and let his lips brush her forehead.

‘It was all my pleasure,’ he said softly. ‘Now stop thinking about twins and burns and belongings and worries. Think only about yourself for a change. Sleep!’

And she did.

There was simply no choice.

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHERE are we?’

Erin planned to wake the minute they woke, but she must have been too exhausted for her normal House Mother instincts to work. She’d propped open both bathroom doors so the twins could see her as soon as they opened their eyes, and now they landed on her bed in a tangle of legs and arms and astonishment.

‘Did the house really burn down? Did we really ride in a police car?’

That was easy.

‘It did and you did and you’re now at Mr McKay’s farm,’ she said, hugging them to her and hauling them in to lie under the covers. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt, and in their oddly assorted pyjamas they looked just as disreputable as she did. They were like something out of a charity bazaar, she thought and grinned to herself and hugged harder. She didn’t mind. They were safe.

‘The policeman won’t arrest us?’ It was Henry, ever the anxious one.

‘Now why would he arrest you?’

‘Because we made a bomb.’

‘But you’ve promised faithfully never to make another one,’ she said.

‘Mmm.’

She fixed Henry with a look. ‘You did promise.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave her a feeble smile. ‘Okay. We did.’

‘Then I think we might persuade him not to arrest you—this time.’

Apparently this was satisfactory. They snuggled down beside her and then snuggled some more.

But then William asked what was apparently super important in both their minds.

‘Erin, where’s Tigger?’

Oh dear. Erin thought back to the last she’d seen of the house. There seemed not one snowball’s chance in a bushfire that anything could have been saved. There was nothing to do but tell them the truth.

‘Guys, I’m afraid Tigger was burned.’

That silenced them completely. They lay, taking in the enormity of it, and then Henry sniffed.

One sniff was all he allowed himself, but Erin’s heart wrenched. Tigger had been given to the boys by one of their first foster families—a sort of sop-to-conscience-at-taking-them-back-to-the-orphanage gift—and they’d been so young they’d mixed him up with leaving their mother and their bothers and sisters. Tigger had become their only constant, a toy never fought over, never discussed, but simply there.

Apart from each other he was all they had—and now they’d lost him.

Erin knew enough to acknowledge he was irreplaceable. She thought of the impossibility of saying they’d find another Tigger, and she simply didn’t know what else to say.

She was saved by a knock. There was a light rap on the door and it opened to reveal Matt. Unlike Erin and the boys, Matt was fully dressed in his farmer’s moleskins and khaki shirt. A sticking plaster lay across the burn on his forehead, but otherwise he looked completely unscathed. He was bronzed, strong, capable and ready for the day’s work.

‘Good morning,’ he said gravely enough, but his deep brown eyes twinkled at the sight of the three in the bed. ‘That’s a single bed and you guys look squashed. Didn’t you find the other two? Is something the matter?’

‘We just came into Erin’s bed now—to keep her company,’ William said with dignity, casting a doubtful look at his twin. Henry was looking dangerously close to tears, and the twins’ code of conduct decreed it didn’t do to show emotion in front of strange adults.

They’d learned early to keep themselves to themselves.

But after one knowing look at Henry, Matt mercifully changed the subject, seeming not to notice the one errant tear sliding down Henry’s cheek. He chose the one subject that might make them think of something other than loss.

‘I’ve made pancakes and I thought you might like them in bed. How about it?’

‘Pancakes?’ William said, resolutely putting aside the vision of a burning Tigger. ‘I…I guess…’

They were very upset about something, Matt realised, but he could only go on from here.

‘I’ll bring in a tray, shall I?’

‘Yes, please.’ Erin was so grateful she could have hugged him. How had he guessed that the last thing they needed was a formal breakfast? ‘That’d be lovely.’

‘Coming right up.’ He left them to it, and Erin never knew what an effort it had been for him not to sit down and hug the lot of them.

It had cost to get them breakfast.

Matt had come in from the paddocks to find his weekly housekeeper, Mrs Gregory, hard at work. He had a cow in calf in the home paddock and, after a sleepless night, he’d decided he’d be happier checking on her than staring at the ceiling. His cow now safely delivered, he’d come in to find Mrs Gregory already sniffing lugubriously over the marks on the carpet.

‘Charlotte rang me,’ she said before he could say a word. ‘I knew how it’d be, so I decided it was my Christian duty to get here early. Those dratted children. You saved them, didn’t you? Why you had to offer to take them in…’

‘I guess it was my Christian duty,’ he told her and she didn’t even smile.

‘Hmmph. Those twins. And that mother of theirs. Oh, you don’t need to tell me a thing about that woman. The whole of Bay Beach knew her before she disappeared with the last of her string of men. If ever there was a no-good, two-timing—’

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