Secret Christmas Twins

A chill remained in Erica’s heart, though. She had the feeling that Kimmie’s big brother would have plenty of questions for her when he returned. Questions she didn’t dare to answer.

* * *

It was almost midnight by the time Jason arrived back at the house. Exhausted, cold and wet, he went around to the passenger side to get leverage enough to lift the large dog he’d finally found limping through the woods near Bear Creek.

He carried the dog to the house and fumbled with the door, trying to open it without putting down the dog.

Suddenly, it swung open, and there was Erica, her hair glowing like fire in the hallway’s golden light. “Oh, wow, what can I do?” She hurried out to hold open the storm door for him, regardless of the cold. “Want me to grab towels? A blanket?”

“Both. Closet at the top of the stairs.”

She ran up and came back down and into the front room quickly, her green eyes full of concern. Her soft jeans had holes at the knees, and not the on-purpose kind teenagers wore.

After she’d spread the blankets on the floor in front of the gas fireplace, he carefully set the dog down and studied him. Dirty, yellow fur, a heavy build: probably a Lab-shepherd mix. The dog didn’t try to move much but sighed and dropped his head to the floor as if relieved to have found a safe haven.

“Go take off your wet things,” Erica ordered Jason. “I’ll watch the dog.”

“The twins are asleep?”

“Like logs.”

Jason shed his jacket, boots and hat, got two bowls of water and a couple of thin dishrags, and came back into the warm room. It hadn’t changed much since he was a kid. He half expected his grandmother to come around the corner, bringing cookies and hot chocolate.

But that wasn’t happening, ever again.

“Was he in a fight?” Erica asked. She was gently plucking sticks and berries out of the dog’s fur. “His leg seems awful tender.”

“I’ll try to clean it and wrap it. He’s friendly, like he’s had a good home, though maybe not for a while.” He put the cold water down, and the dog lifted his big golden head and drank loud and long, spilling water all over the floor.

“He’s skinny under his fur,” Erica said. “And a mess. What are all these sticky berries on him?” She plucked a sprig from the dog’s back, green with a few white berries.

“It’s mistletoe.” Made him think of Christmas parties full of music and laughter. Of happy, carefree times.

Erica didn’t look at Jason as she pulled more debris from the dog’s fur. “Then that’s what we’ll call him. Mistletoe.”

“You’re naming the dog?”

“We have to call him something,” she said reasonably. “You work on him. I’ll be right back.”

He puzzled over Erica as he carefully examined the dog’s leg. She seemed kind and helpful and well-spoken. So how had Kimmie connected with her? Had Kimmie gotten her life together, started running with a better crowd? Was Erica some kind of emissary from his sister?

He breathed in and out and tried to focus on the present moment. This homey room, the quiet, the dog’s warm brown eyes. Letting his thoughts run away with him was dangerous, was what had made him okay with administrative leave. The only crime he’d committed was trusting his partner, who’d turned out to be corrupt, taking bribes. With time, Jason knew he’d be exonerated of wrongdoing.

But still, he was all too aware that he’d lost perspective. He’d been working too hard and getting angrier and angrier, partly because of worrying about his sister’s situation and wondering where she was. He’d had no life. Coming here, taking a break, was the right thing to do, especially given his grandmother’s death earlier this year.

He should have come home more. He’d made so many mistakes as a brother, a son, a grandson. And a fiancé, according to what Renea had screamed as she’d stormed out for the last time. Funny how that was the weakness that bothered him the least.

Erica came back into the room and set a tray down on the end table beside the couch.

A familiar, delicious smell wafted toward him. Déjà vu. “You made hot chocolate?”

She looked worried. “Papa Andy showed me where to find everything before he went to bed. I hope it’s okay. You just looked so cold.”

He took one of the two mugs and sipped, then drank. “Almost as good as Gran’s.”

Her face broke into a relieved smile, and if she’d been pretty before, her smile made her absolutely gorgeous. Wow.

“How’s Mistletoe?” She set down the other mug and knelt by the dog.

He snorted out a laugh at the name. “He let me look at his leg. Whether he’ll let me wash it remains to be seen.” He put down the hot chocolate and dipped a rag into the warm water.

“Want me to hold his head?”

“No.” Was she crazy? “If he bites anybody, it’s going to be me, not you.”

“I’m not afraid.” She scooted over, gently lifted the dog’s large head and crossed her legs beneath. “It’s okay, boy,” she said, stroking his face and ears. “Jason’s going to fix it.”

Jason parted the dog’s fur. “Don’t look—it’s not pretty.”

She ignored his instruction, leaning over to see. “Aw, ouch. Wonder what happened?”

“A fight, or clipped by a car. He’s limping pretty bad, so I’m worried the bone is involved.” As gently as possible, he squeezed water onto the wound and then wiped away as much dirt as he could. Once, the dog yelped, but Erica soothed him immediately and he relaxed back into her lap.

Smart dog.

Jason ripped strips of towel and wrapped the leg, aiming for gentle compression. “There you go, fella. We’ll call the vet in the morning.”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Erica eased out from under the dog’s head, gave him a few more ear scratches and then moved to the couch, picking up her mug on the way. “I love hot chocolate, but in Phoenix, we didn’t have much occasion to drink it.”

Jason picked up his half-full cup and sat in the adjacent armchair. “How did you know Kimmie?”

The question was abrupt, and he meant it to be. People answered more honestly when they hadn’t had a chance to relax and figure out what their interrogator wanted to hear.

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Fair question. I met her at Canyon Lodge.” She looked at him, but when he didn’t react, she clarified. “It’s a drug rehab center.”

“You’re an addict, too?”

“Noooo.” She lifted an eyebrow at his assumption. “My mom was. I met Kimmie, wow, ten years ago, on visits to Mom. When they both got out, we stayed in touch.”

And yet she hadn’t turned to her mom when she’d needed a place to stay. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked.

She looked away. “She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She slid down off the couch to sit beside the dog again, petting him in long, gentle strokes.

“Where’s Kimmie now? Is she in Phoenix?”

Erica hesitated.

“Look, we’ve been out of touch for years. But if she’s sober now...” He saw Erica’s expression change. “Is she sober now?”

Erica looked down at the dog, into the fire, anywhere but at him.

Hope leaked out of him like air from a deflating tire. “She’s not.”

Finally, she blew out a breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“What do you mean? She’s straight or she’s not.”

Erica’s face went tense, and he realized he’d spoken harshly. Not the way to gain trust and information. “Sorry. Let’s start over. Why did she send you to Holly Creek Farm?”

Simple enough question, he’d thought. Apparently not.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

He ground his teeth to maintain patience. His superiors had been right; he was too much on the edge to be working the streets right now. For a fleeting, fearful moment, he wondered if he could ever do it again.

But interviewing someone about your own kin was different, obviously, than asking questions about a stranger.

“Kimmie isn’t...well,” she said finally.

Jason jerked to attention at her tone. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but his cell phone buzzed. Wretched thing. And as a cop, even one on leave, he had to take it.

“It’s late for a phone call.” Then she waved a hand, looking embarrassed. “Not my business. Sorry.”

A feeling of foreboding came over Jason as he looked at the unfamiliar number. “Area code 602. Phoenix, isn’t it?”

She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Yes.”

He clicked to answer. “Jason Stephanidis.”

“Mr. Stephanidis.” The voice on the other end was male, and there was background noise Jason couldn’t identify. “Are you the brother of Kimberly Stephanidis?”

Jason closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Okay. This is Officer John Jiminez. Phoenix PD. You’re a cop, too?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. My information’s accurate. Do you know... Have you seen your sister recently?”

“No.”

Silence. Then: “Look, I’m sorry to inform you that she’s passed away. I’ve been assigned to locate her next of kin.”

A chasm opened in his chest. “Drugs?”

“The coroner listed the cause of death as an overdose. But it also looks like she had advanced lung cancer.”

Jason squeezed his eyes closed, tighter, as if that could block out the words he was hearing. What he wanted to do was to shout back: No. No. No.

* * *

Erica sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. Trying to hold herself together.

Kimmie was gone.

The twins were motherless.

Grief warred with worry and fear, and she jumped up and paced the room.

After Jason had barked out the news, said that a lawyer would call back tomorrow with more information, he’d banged out of the house.

What had happened? Had Kimmie gone peacefully, with good care, or died alone and in pain? Or, given the mention of overdose, had she taken the low road one last time?

Erica sank her head into her hands and offered up wordless prayers. Finally, a little peace came to her as the truth she believed with all her heart sank in: Kimmie had gone home to a forgiving God, happy, all pain gone.

She paced over to the window and looked out. The snow had stopped, and as she watched, the moon came out from under a cloud, sending a cold, silvery light over the rolling farmland.

Off to the side, Jason shoveled a walkway, fast, furious, robotic.

Wanting air herself, wanting to see that moon better and remind herself that God had a plan, Erica found a heavy jacket in the hall closet and slipped outside.

Sharp cold took her breath away. A wide creek ran alongside the house, a little stone bridge arching over it. Snow blanketed hills and trees and barns.

And the moonlight! It reflected off snow and water, rendering the scene almost as bright as daytime, bright enough that a wooden fence and a line of tall pines cast shadows on the snow.

The only sound was the steady chink-chink-chink of Jason’s shovel.

The newness, the majesty, the fearfulness of the scene made her tremble. God’s creation, beautiful and dangerous. A Sunday school verse flashed through her mind: “In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

The shovel stopped. Heavy boot steps came toward her.

“You should have contacted me!” Jason’s voice was loud, angry. “How long were you with her? Didn’t you think her family might want to know?”

His accusatory tone stung. “She didn’t want me to contact you!”

“You listened to an addict?”

“She said you told her you were through helping her.”

“I didn’t know she had cancer!” He sank down on the front step and let his head fall into his hands. “I would have helped.” The last word came out choked.

Erica’s desire to fight left her. He was Kimmie’s brother, and he was hurting.

She sat down beside him. “She wasn’t alone, until just a short while ago. I was with her.”

He turned his head to face her. “I don’t get it. On top of everything else she had to deal with, she took in you and your kids?”

She saw how it looked to him. But what was she supposed to say? Kimmie hadn’t wanted her to tell Jason about the twins. She’d spoken of him bitterly. “I was a support to her, not a burden,” she said. “You can believe that or not.”

He leaned back on his elbows, staring out across the moon-bright countryside. “Tough love,” he muttered. “Everyone says to use tough love.”

Behind them, there was a scratching sound and then a mournful howl.

Jason stood and opened the door, and Mistletoe limped outside. He lifted his golden head and sniffed the air.

“Guess he got lonely.” Jason sat back down.

Mistletoe shoved in between them and rested his head on Jason’s lap.

They were silent for a few minutes. Erica was cold, especially where her thin jeans met the stone porch steps. But she felt lonely, too. She didn’t want to leave the dog. And strangely enough, she didn’t want to leave Jason. Although he was obviously angry, and even blaming her, he was the only person in the world right now, besides her, who was grieving Kimmie’s terribly early death.

“I just don’t get your story,” he burst out. “How’d you help her when you were trying to care for your babies, too? And why’d she send you and your kids here?”

Mistletoe nudged his head under Jason’s hand, demanding attention.

“I want some answers, Erica.”

Praying for the words to come to her, Erica spoke. “She said this was a good place, a safe place. She knew I...didn’t have much.”

He lifted a brow like he didn’t believe her.

“She’d loved my mom.” Which was true. “She was kind of like a big sister to me.”

“She was a real big sister to me.” Suddenly, Jason pounded a fist into his open hand. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe she OD’d alone.” He paused and drew in a ragged breath, then looked at Erica. “I’m going to find out more about you and what went on out there. I’m going to get some answers.”

Erica looked away from his intensity. She didn’t want him to see the fear in her eyes.

And she especially didn’t want him to find one particular answer: that Kimmie was the biological mother of the twins sleeping upstairs.

Chapter Two

Sunday morning, just after sunrise, Jason followed the smell of coffee into the farmhouse kitchen. He poured himself a cup and strolled around, looking for his grandfather and listening to the morning sounds of Erica and the twins upstairs.

Yesterday had been rough. He’d called their mother overseas—the easier telling, strangely—and then he’d let Papa know about Kimmie. Papa hadn’t cried; he’d just said, “I’m glad Mama wasn’t alive to hear of this.” Then he’d gone out to the barn all day, coming in only to eat a sandwich and go to bed.

Erica and the twins had stayed mostly in the guest room. Jason had made a trip to the vet to get Mistletoe looked over, and then rattled around the downstairs, alone and miserable, battling his own feelings of guilt and failure.

Tough love hadn’t worked. His sister had died alone.

It was sadness times two, especially for his grandfather. And though the old man was healthy, an active farmer at age seventy-eight, Jason still worried about him.

Where was his grandfather now, anyway? Jason looked out the windows and saw a trail broken through newly drifted snow. Papa had gone out to do morning chores without him.

A door opened upstairs, and he heard Erica talking to the twins. Maybe bringing them down for breakfast.

She was too pretty and he didn’t trust her. Coward that he was, he poured his coffee into a travel cup and headed out, only stopping to lace his boots and zip his jacket when he’d closed the door behind him.

Jason approached the big red barn and saw Papa moving around inside. After taking a moment to admire the rosy morning sky crisscrossed by tree limbs, he went inside.

Somehow, Papa had pulled the old red sleigh out into the center of the barn and was cleaning off the cobwebs. In the stalls, the two horses they still kept stomped and snorted.

Papa gave him a half smile and nodded toward the horses. “They know what day it is.”

“What day?”

“You’ve really been gone that long? It’s Sleigh Bell Sunday.”

“You don’t plan on...” He trailed off, because Papa obviously did intend to hitch up the horses and drive the sleigh to church. It was tradition. The first Sunday in December, all the farm families that still kept horses came in by sleigh, if there was anything resembling enough snow to do it. There was a makeshift stable at the church and volunteers to tend the horses, and after church, all the town kids got sleigh rides. The church ladies served hot cider and cocoa and homemade doughnuts, and the choir sang carols.

It was a great event, but Papa already looked tired. “We don’t have to do it this year. Everyone would understand.”

“It’s important to the people in this community.” Papa knelt to polish the sleigh’s runner, adding in a muffled voice, “It was important to your grandmother.”

Jason blew out a sigh, picked up a rag and started cleaning the inside of the old sleigh.

They fed and watered the horses. As they started to pull out the harnesses, Jason noticed the old sleigh bells he and Kimmie had always fought over, each of them wanting to be the one to pin them to the front of the sleigh.

Carefully, eyes watering a little, he hooked the bells in place.

“You know,” Papa said, “this place belongs to you and Kimmie. We set it up so I’m a life tenant, but it’s already yours.”

Jason nodded. He knew about the provisions allowed to family farmers, made to ensure later generations like Jason and Kimmie wouldn’t have to pay heavy inheritance taxes.

“I’m working the farm okay now. But you’ll need to think about the future. There’s gonna come a time when I’m not able.”

“I’m thinking on it.” They’d had this conversation soon after Gran had died, so Jason wondered where his grandfather was going with it.

“I imagine Kimmie left her half to you.”

Oh. That was why. He coughed away the sudden roughness in his throat. “Lawyer’s going to call back tomorrow and go through her will.”

“That’s fine, then.” Papa went to the barn door. “Need a break and some coffee. You finish hitching and pull it up.” He paused, then added, “If you remember how.”

The dig wasn’t lost on Jason. It had been years since he’d driven horses or, for that matter, helped with the farm.

It wasn’t like he’d been eating bonbons or walking on the beach. But he’d definitely let his family down. He had to do better.

By the time he’d figured out the hitches and pulled the sleigh up to the front door of the old white house, Papa was on the porch with a huge armload of blankets. “They’ll be right out,” he said.

“Who?”

“Erica and the babies.”

“Those babies can’t come! They’re little!”

Papa waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve always taken the little ones. Safer than a car.”

“But it’s cold!” Even though it wasn’t frostbite weather, the twins weren’t used to Pennsylvania winters. “They’re from Arizona!”

“So were you, up until you started elementary school.” Papa chuckled. “Why, your parents brought you to visit at Christmas when you were only three months old, and Kimmie was, what, five? You both loved the ride, and no harm done.”

And they’d continued to visit the farm and ride in the sleigh every Christmas after they’d moved back to the Pittsburgh area. Even when their parents had declined to go to church, Gran and Papa had insisted on taking them. Christmases on the farm had been one of the best parts of his childhood.

Maybe Kimmie had held on to some of those memories, too.

He fought down his emotions. “I don’t trust Erica. There’s something going on with her.”

Papa didn’t answer, and when Jason looked up, he saw that Erica had come out onto the porch. Papa just lifted an eyebrow and went to help her get the twins into the sleigh.

Had she heard what he’d said? But what did it matter if she had; she already knew he thought she was hiding something.

“This is amazing!” She stared at the sleigh and horses, round-eyed. “It’s like a movie! Only better. Look, Mikey, horses!” She pointed toward the big furry-footed draft horses, their breath steaming in the cold, crisp air.

“Uuusss,” Mikey said.

Erica’s gloved hand—at least Papa had found her gloves—flew to her mouth. “That’s his second word! Wow!”

“What did he say?” It had sounded like nonsense to Jason.

“He said horse. Didn’t you, you smart boy?” Erica danced the twins around until they both giggled and yelled.

Papa lifted one of the babies from her arms and held him out to Jason. “Hold this one, will you?”

“But I...” He didn’t have a choice, so he took the baby, even though he knew less than nothing about them. In his police work, whenever there’d been a baby to handle, he’d foisted it off on other officers who already had kids.

He put the baby on his knee, and the baby—was this Mikey?—gestured toward the horses and chortled. “Uuusss! Uuusss!”

Oh. Uuusss meant horse.

“I’ll hold this one, and you climb in,” Papa said to Erica. “Then I’ll hand ’em to you one at a time, and you wrap ’em up in those blankets.” Papa sounded like a pro at all of this, and given that he’d done it already for two generations, Jason guessed he was.

Once both twins were bundled, snug between Papa and Erica, Jason set the horses to trotting forward. The sun was up now, making millions of diamonds on the snow that stretched across the hills, far into the distance. He smelled pine, a sharp, resin-laden sweetness.

When he picked up the pace, the sleigh bells jingled.

“Real sleigh bells!” Erica said, and then, as they approached the white covered bridge, decorated with a simple wreath for Christmas, she gasped. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

Jason glanced back, unable to resist watching her fall in love with his home.

Papa was smiling for the first time since he’d learned of Kimmie’s death. And as they crossed the bridge and trotted toward the church, converging with other horse-drawn sleighs, Jason felt a sense of rightness.

“Over here, Mr. S!” cried a couple of chest-high boys, and Jason pulled the sleigh over to their side of the temporary hitching post.

“I’ll tie ’em up,” Papa said, climbing out of the sleigh.

Mikey started babbling to Teddy, accompanied by gestures and much repetition of his new word, uuusss. Teddy tilted his head to one side and burst forth with his own stream of nonsense syllables, seeming to ask a question, batting Mikey on the arm. Mikey waved toward the horses and jabbered some more, as if he were explaining something important.

They were such personalities, even as little as they were. Jason couldn’t help smiling as he watched them interact.

Once Papa had the reins set and the horses tied up, Jason jumped out of the sleigh and then turned to help Erica down. She handed him a twin. “Can you hold Mikey?”

He caught a whiff of baby powder and pulled the little one tight against his shoulder. Then he reached out to help Erica, and she took his hand to climb down, Teddy on her hip.

When he held her hand, something electric seemed to travel right to his heart. Involuntarily he squeezed and held on.

She drew in a sharp breath as she looked at him, some mixture of puzzlement and awareness in her eyes.

And then Teddy grabbed her hair and yanked, and Mikey struggled to get to her, and the connection was lost.

The next few minutes were a blur of greetings and “been too long” came from seemingly everyone in the congregation.

“Jason Stephanidis,” said Mrs. Habler, a good-hearted pillar of the church whom he’d known since childhood. She’d held back until the other congregants had drifted toward the church, probably so she could probe for the latest news. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

He put an arm around her. “Good to see you, Mrs. Habler.”