Secret Christmas Twins

“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.