The Inherited Twins

Claire breathed in sharply, clearly thrown off guard by the twins’ innocent query. Briefly, a mixture of grief and shock crossed her face.

Just as quickly, she pulled herself together and approached the twins. Kneeling down in front of them, she wrapped her arms about their waists, and pulled them toward her. “Mommy and Daddy are in heaven,” she said very gently. “Remember? We talked about this.”

“Yeah,” Heidi said, pointing upward as if to demonstrate her comprehension. “But heaven’s up there in the sky.”

“And birds are, too,” Henry concurred.

“But birds come down. On the ground. So when are Mommy and Daddy going to come down on the ground, too, and come see us again?” Heidi asked plaintively.

“We miss ’em,” Henry said sadly.

“I know you do,” Claire said, her own voice thick with unshed tears. “I miss them, too. But they can’t come back and be with us, as much as we want them to.”

Heidi and Henry fell silent, their expressions both stoic and perplexed. Claire gave them another hug. “What do you say we go upstairs and I read you another story?”

“Can he come, too?” Henry pointed at Heath.

“Yeah. I bet he likes stories,” Heidi declared.

“We can’t ask Mr. McPherson to do that,” Claire said softly.

The twins both looked as if they were about to pitch a fit.

Figuring a change of mood was in order, Heath interjected, “Sure, I can. In fact, I’ve got to tell you, I am one fine story-reader. I can even do voices.”

Claire sent Heath a grateful look, making him glad he had intervened.

Heidi’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you do voices?”

“Ah!” Heath held out a hand to Henry, who looked the most ready to revolt. “I guess I’ll have to show you. What stories do you like best?”

“Ones about Bob the Builder,” Henry said, thrusting out his bottom lip.

“Ones about dolls,” Heidi declared. “And Sissy likes them, too.”

Together, they all headed through the hallway, past the formal rooms, reserved for ranch guests, and up the wide front staircase. Claire looked over their heads and mouthed, “Thank you,” to Heath.

He whispered back, “You’re welcome.”

Twenty minutes and four stories later, the twins were finally drowsy. “It’s bedtime now, for real,” Claire said. “You have preschool tomorrow morning, and you don’t want to be too tired to enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Henry stifled a yawn, holding out his arms for a hug. Claire obliged. When she released him, Henry turned to Heath, and held out his arms again.

Ignoring the sudden lump in his throat, Heath hugged the little boy. At times like this, he wished he had made better choices. If he had, he might have married a woman who wanted children as much as he did. Instead, he was still searching for a woman who wanted the same things out of life. A woman who yearned for more than a successful husband and a growing bank account.A woman who would put family first. A woman like Claire.And kids like the twins.

Heidi hugged both of them, too, then smothered a yawn with the back of her hand, too. Clasping her doll Sissy, she snuggled down into the covers. “Night,” she said, already closing her eyes.

Heath’s heart filled with tenderness.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Claire backed out of the room, Heath following suit. Soundlessly, the two of them crept down the stairs.

They walked back to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee? I can’t drink regular this late in the evening, but I can handle decaf,” she told him.

“Sounds fine. Thanks.”

Claire released a breath. “You were great just now.”

Seeing how upset she still was, wanting to help in whatever way he could, Heath leaned in the doorway. “Does that happen often?”

“Once every couple of weeks now. Initially, it was all the time.” Claire’s hands trembled as she tried to fit the paper filter into the coffee maker. Eyes focused on her task, she continued, “The psychologist our pediatrician referred us to said that children under age eight don’t really grasp the concept of death. They don’t understand the finality of it. So it takes them a long time to really accept and adjust to the fact that their loved ones aren’t coming back, that they won’t see them again on this earth.” Claire raked her teeth across her lower lip, shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I’ve tried to explain about heaven, about how one day we’ll all be together again, but I don’t think they get that, either.”

Without warning, the tears she had been holding back splashed down her cheeks.

Heath didn’t have to think; he knew what he had to do. He crossed the kitchen in two long strides and took her into his arms. No sooner had he pulled her against his chest than the dam broke. Claire’s whole body shook with silent sobs. His shirt soaked up her tears, and still she cried, her face pressed against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms closer around her, not sure what to say, only knowing that she needed to be held as much as he needed to hold her. Finally, the shuddering stopped.

Claire wiped the heel of her hand beneath her eyes, then drew back. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“Don’t be.”

She shook her head, looking aggrieved. “I shouldn’t be behaving this way. Especially not with you…”

Heath stroked a hand through her hair. “You’ve got every right to be sad,” he soothed. But even as he spoke, he could see she didn’t want to feel that way. She wanted the mourning to be over. She wanted to be able to move on.

And he wanted to help her do that.

CLAIRE SAW THE KISS coming. Realized she could stop it. All it would take was a look, a sigh, a shake of her head. Instead, she lifted her face to his and stepped back into his embrace. Her lips parted as his touched hers, and then everything in her life that was painful and wrong, everything that should never have happened, faded away.

She reveled in the taste and smell of him, in the tenderness of his touch and the reckless abandon of his kiss. He held her as if she were the most fragile possession on earth. He kissed her as if she were the strongest. And in truth she felt both.

Like she could handle anything.

She just didn’t want to handle it alone.

Not anymore.

And that, more than anything, was why she broke off the kiss and stepped back.

They faced each other, their breathing erratic.

But the apology she half expected from Heath never came.

And it was easy to see why.

Judging from his expression, he wasn’t sorry he kissed her. Any more than she was that he had. And what was up with that? She knew better than to mix business with pleasure, to get involved with a paying guest. And she especially shouldn’t be kissing the man in charge of the twins’ trust fund. Which was why she had to get him out of here before they got any closer.

She flashed an officious smile and glided away from him. “Let me get you a cup of coffee for the walk back to your cottage.”

“Thanks.”