Adding to the Family. GINA WILKINSЧитать онлайн книгу.
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?”
They shook their heads, the movements so perfectly coordinated that Mark had the unsettling feeling he was seeing double. “Okay, then,” he said, “we need to find you a place to sleep. You both look tired.”
Jamie moved a step closer to his more-confident twin. Reading the body language, Mark assured him, “Don’t worry, you can stay close together. Maybe you can both sleep in your aunt’s bed for tonight and she can take the couch?”
Slowly coming back to coherence, Miranda nodded. “Yeah, we can do that for tonight.” She looked at Mark. “You can stay for a little while longer, can’t you? We need to talk after they’re in bed.”
She obviously needed advice, and since he was the only other adult around at the moment, it looked as though he was elected. Fortunately it wasn’t particularly late, since he had brought her straight home after dinner. “I’ll call Mrs. McSwaim and tell her I’ll be awhile yet. She won’t mind. I’m sure my kids are already in bed.”
Miranda gave him a wan smile of gratitude, then turned back to her nephews. “So, do you two have pajamas and toothbrushes in those suitcases?”
Two synchronized nods. Mark wondered if the boys were always this quiet, or were simply overwhelmed by being uprooted and left with strangers. He suspected the latter.
Miranda drew a deep breath, and he could see her usual spirit slowly begin to reassert itself. “Okay,” she said, “let’s get you guys into those pj’s.”
A short while later, Miranda watched her nephews climb into her bed. It was a queen-size bed, which took up most of the small bedroom, but she liked having plenty of room to stretch out while she slept.
The twins looked even smaller than before as they huddled in the center of the mattress. Considering everything, she supposed they were being brave and stoic about their circumstances, but the pallor of their faces and the expressions in their big brown eyes told her they were extremely shaken.
“Do either of you need anything else?” she asked as she lingered awkwardly beside the bed.
They shook their heads against the pillows.
“Well, then, I’ll be in the next room if you need anything. Oh, and this is the only bathroom in the apartment, so don’t be alarmed if you hear me moving around in there during the night, okay?”
Two more simultaneous nods.
“Okay.” This was so very weird. She took a step toward the door. “Good night.”
“Aunt ’Randa?”
The quiet little voice stopped her just as she reached for the light switch. She didn’t know who had spoken, but she guessed it was Kasey, since he seemed to do most of the talking for the duo. “Yes?”
“Could you leave the door open?”
Of course they were scared, she thought with a sudden rush of pity. The poor kids were in a strange place with a woman they barely knew. It was mind-boggling to realize that she was all they had at the moment. That she was totally responsible for their welfare.
Swallowing hard, she nodded and turned off the light, then stepped out of the room. She left the door ajar by a good three inches, so the light from the living room would spill into the bedroom, at least until after the boys were asleep.
Mark waited for her at the kitchen table. At her request, he had made a pot of decaffeinated coffee—not that she expected to get any sleep tonight even without the effects of caffeine.
“Did you call your baby-sitter?” she asked as she poured coffee into a mug. Mark already had a steaming cup in front of him.
“Yes. She’s my housekeeper. She lives only a couple of doors down from me, so it isn’t a problem for me to be a bit late. I’ll walk her home.”
“It must be convenient for you to have a housekeeper and nanny. Especially one who lives so close by.”
“It is. I used to do taxes for her and her husband. When her husband died last year, she didn’t want to sell her house, but she was lonely, and she had no family to turn to, so we worked out an arrangement. It has turned out very well for both of us.”
He really was a compulsive caregiver, Miranda thought as she took a seat at the little round table. Even when it came to hiring his household help, he was actually providing companionship and a little extra income for a lonely widow.
While taking in strays might be commonplace for Mark, it was hardly characteristic for Miranda. “What am I going to do with these boys?” she asked, hoping he would have a suggestion, since her own mind was pretty much devoid of ideas.
“First you should probably find out whatever you can about your sister’s situation.”
Miranda handed him her sister’s letter, which she had already read twice. “Maybe you should read this.”
He seemed a bit reluctant to unfold the page. “You’re sure? After all, this is your personal business.”
“You’re my accountant,” she said with a shrug. “There’s very little you don’t already know about me.”
“Financially, maybe. This is different.”
“Still, I’ve always valued your advice, and I would appreciate any you can offer me now.”
He hesitated a moment longer, then opened the letter and began to read silently.
Miranda could almost recite the words along with him. Her sister had starkly described the trouble she was in, laying the blame on someone else, and had then begged Miranda to take care of her twins.
It had taken this mess to make Lisa realize what a terrible mother she had been to them, she had written. Selfish and irresponsible and immature. Even if she could take them with her now, they deserved to be raised by someone more settled and responsible, like their aunt Miranda. Lisa needed to put her mistakes behind her—presumably including her twins among those mistakes—and start a new life for herself.
She had packed their birth certificates and immunization records in Kasey’s suitcase, she explained. They had been healthy children who rarely needed medical attention, so Miranda needn’t worry about that.
“The boys have no one else to turn to,” she had added. “Miranda, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but you won’t regret it. They’re good kids. And they’re your family.”
Family. Miranda grimaced as she repeated the word in her mind. It had never been a particularly sentimental concept for her, since her own had been so dysfunctional. The idealized image of loving, supportive parents was foreign to her. The only genuine love she had known as a child had come from her maternal grandmother, who had tried her best to compensate for the emotional neglect her granddaughters had received from their parents.
Her grandmother had died when Miranda was