Adding to the Family

“Yeah. I’ll go get…I’ll be right back,” he stammered, moving backward.

Miranda turned to Mark. “This is weird, even for Lisa. I have no clue what’s going on.”

“I’ll hang around until you find out,” he said, frowning after the man who had interrupted them. “I’m not sure I trust that guy.”

Miranda wasn’t about to argue with him. She wasn’t sure she trusted the man, either, even if he did claim to be a friend of Lisa’s—or maybe because of that fact.

She was looking down at the envelope in her hand, tugging at the glued-down flap, when she heard Mark say in a rather odd voice, “Um, Miranda? Take a look at what the delivery is.”

She looked up at him, frowned at the strange expression on his face, and then turned to see what he was staring at so intently. Her own jaw dropped. “Oh, no.”

Jack Parsons was on his way back to her, dragging two large, wheeled suitcases behind him. And tagging behind those suitcases like little ducklings were a couple of sandy-haired boys with rumpled clothes and identical faces.

“No,” Miranda said again, more firmly this time. “Surely you aren’t…”

“Your sister asked me to bring them to you,” Jack said, setting the suitcases down and nodding toward the twins. “They aren’t any trouble. They’re kind of quiet, actually.”

Panic was beginning to build in her throat. She swallowed to clear her voice. “I don’t understand…”

“Lisa explained everything in her letter. She said you would understand after you read it. And she told me to tell you she’s sorry, and she thanks you for helping her. Now, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a long trip ahead of me tonight.”

“Wait a minute.” Miranda moved after him when he turned to walk away. “Where are you going? You aren’t just going to leave them here.”

Without slowing down, Jack looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to go. Read the letter from your sister. That’ll explain everything.”

Openmouthed in disbelief, Miranda watched the man climb behind the wheel of an extended cab pickup truck and drive away without even looking back. Only then did she turn, very slowly, to face the reality of two young, somber faces gazing expectantly up at her.

“Are you our aunt ’Randa?” one of the boys asked in a quavering voice while his twin hovered shyly behind him.

“Yes,” she answered in a near groan. “I suppose I am.” And heaven help them all, she almost added.

“We’d better get them inside while you read your letter,” Mark murmured, breaking into her momentary paralysis. “It’s cool out here tonight, and they aren’t even wearing jackets over those T-shirts.”

“Inside?” Miranda turned to him, feeling as though she were seeing him through a sudden fog. “My apartment?”

Apparently assessing the situation and deciding that someone had to take charge, he reached out his hand. “Give me your key. I’ll unlock the door.”

She shook her head in an effort to clear her muddled mind. She didn’t need anyone taking charge here, she assured herself. She had just needed a moment to recuperate from the shock. “I’ll do it.”

After opening the door, she reached in to turn on a light, then moved aside and motioned toward the boys. “Come on in. We’ll try to straighten this out.”

Mark dragged the suitcases in behind him as he entered. Miranda closed the door, then turned to find the twins still staring at her with those huge, unblinking brown eyes. “Uh, do you guys need anything?”

“He’s got to pee,” one of them said, pointing to the other.

She didn’t have a clue which boy was which. They looked so much alike she couldn’t imagine anyone being able to tell them apart. Not to mention that they hadn’t even been able to talk the last time she’d seen them.

“The bathroom is through there,” she said, pointing to the bedroom door. “Um, do you need any help?” If so, she was sending Mark, she decided. He had experience at this sort of thing, even if his kids were girls.

But the boy shook his head, turned and hurried toward the door as if he really couldn’t wait a moment longer. His twin continued to stare at Miranda.

“Okay,” she said after taking a deep breath. “I need to read this letter. You can go sit on the couch until your brother comes back,” she told him.

“I’ve got to pee, too.”

“Then go wait at the bathroom door until he’s finished and then you can both sit on the couch until we figure out what’s going on. And both of you wash your hands,” she called after him when he turned to follow his brother. It seemed like something she should say, since she seemed to be in charge of them at the moment, she thought with a gulp.

“Maybe it would be better if I leave now,” Mark suggested, making a slight movement toward the door. “This seems to be family business.”

She reached out to grab his sleeve. “Don’t you dare,” she told him, not even bothering to try to hide her desperation. “You can’t just walk away and leave me alone with them.”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Read the letter, Miranda. Let’s find out what’s going on.”

She ripped into the envelope, hoping without much optimism that the contents would reveal that Lisa was on her way to pick up her sons. Maybe she had simply been detained for an hour or so, and she had asked her friend to bring the boys ahead for some reason. Lisa probably just needed another loan, and then she—and her twins—would be on their way to the next adventure, leaving Miranda contentedly alone in her tiny apartment and her comfortable, self-centered routines.

But she knew after reading only the first line of the brief letter that nothing would ever be quite the same after this. And she didn’t for the life of her know what she was going to do about it.

Chapter Four

Mark could tell by the look on Miranda’s face that the letter from her sister did not contain good news. “What does it say?”

Miranda’s amber eyes held a stunned expression when she looked up at him. “Lisa has gone into protective custody. She sent the boys to me because she can’t take them with her. Or to be more specific, she doesn’t want to take them. She says she’s tired of trying to be a good mother and failing miserably at it.”

“Oh, man.” The words were a groan as Mark pictured the two cute little boys in the next room who’d been deserted by their mother.

“Mark, she says she can’t ever see any of us again—that she knows things that could be detrimental to some very powerful people in the government, so in return for her cooperation and her future silence, she’s being given a new identity and a new start in a secret location. She got permission to send the boys to me, but I’m instructed never to try to find her or make contact with her at the risk of getting both her and me into big trouble.”

“Damn. What has she gotten herself into?”

“She’s pretty vague about it, but it has something to do with…with murder and racketeering. She blamed it all on a man, of course; said he got her into a dangerous situation against her better judgment. As if she has any better judgment,” she added bitterly. “And as if you can ever believe everything my sister says. She has a habit of wildly embroidering her stories.”

He heard the anger and disappointment in her voice, and he couldn’t blame her for either. The repercussions of Lisa’s poor judgment affected more people than just herself—most notably the two children who had just returned from the other room and now stood gazing somberly at Miranda.

She looked back at the towheaded duo with an expression of near panic. Mark couldn’t fault her for that, either. Anyone would be stunned to suddenly become responsible for five-year-old twins who were basically strangers. He would feel pretty much the same way—and he had experience at single parenthood. Miranda must feel completely out of her element.

One of the boys yawned and rubbed his eyes. Poor kids had to be wiped out—not to mention scared and confused. And since Miranda still seemed gripped by the paralysis of shock, someone needed to take charge here, at least until she recovered enough to think clearly.

“My name is Mark,” he told the boys. “I’m a friend of your aunt’s. What are your names?”

“I’m Kasey,” one of the boys replied. “This is Jamie.”

Mark tried hard to find any distinguishing feature between them, but as far as he could tell they were identical, right down to their white T-shirts, faded blue jeans and white-and-black sneakers.

“Have you boys had anything to eat?” he asked, earning a startled glance from Miranda—as if it had never occurred to her that children needed to be fed.

“Jack got us hamburgers,” the same boy who had spoken before replied. Kasey, Mark reminded himself. Jamie seemed to be the shyer of the two. As long as they remained standing exactly where they were, he knew which was which—but once they moved, he would be completely clueless again.

“Either of you want a drink of water or anything?”