Single With Twins

“Mom,” Emma said, “does Mack Marshall look like our daddy did?”

Not even close, sweet Emma, Heather thought as a mental image of Mack flashed in her mind.

“No, not really,” Heather said. “Mack and your daddy were half brothers, remember? They had the same father, but not the same mother. That caused them to look very different, so Mack doesn’t resemble the picture of your daddy that you have in your bedroom.”

“Are we going to ’dopt Mack or something?” Emma said, then patted her lips with her napkin.

Heather’s eyes widened. “Adopt him? No, honey, we’re just going to get to know him a bit, that’s all, because we’re related, sort of. He’s family, sort of.” She paused. “I’m not certain that I’m explaining this very well.”

“Sure you are, Mommy,” Melissa said. “Mack Marshall doesn’t have a family, and found out we’re here, and we’re his family now, and he’s not all alone anymore, and we’ll talk to him ’bout dumb stuff like what we want to be when we grow up, then I’ll go play catch with Buzzy.”

Heather laughed and shook her head. “That’s fine, Melissa. I guess that about covers it.”

“Poor Mack,” Emma said, sighing dramatically. “He’s been all alone with no one to talk to for years and years and years. Lots of years, because he’s old, right? Really old. You said he’s even older than you, Mom. All alone. Poor Mack.”

Again an image of Mack took front row center in Heather’s mind and an unexpected and very annoying frisson of heat slithered down her back.

“Mack hasn’t been all alone, Emma,” Heather said. Not a chance. He probably had to carry a big stick to beat off the women who flocked around him. Mack Marshall would be alone only when he chose to be. “I’m sure he has a lot of friends in New York City. In fact, he probably knows people all over the world because he travels a great deal to take photographs.”

“That’s sure an easy job,” Melissa said. “Just take pictures of people. Maybe you should do that, Mom, ’stead of being a ’countant. Then you wouldn’t have to work so hard. Can I have another cookie?”

“No, ma’am,” Heather said. “That’s enough of a snack for after school. I want you to eat a good dinner.”

“’Kay,” Melissa said. “Well, I’m done with my milk and cookies. When is Mack going to get here?”

Heather glanced at the clock on the wall. “Any minute now. I have a feeling he’s going to be right on time.”

Mack drove slowly down the street, frowning as he swept his gaze over the small houses that were separated by very narrow driveways.

This neighborhood was even worse than he’d suspected when he’d seen it in the dark last night. Granted, the dozen homes on this dead-end street gave evidence of caring, of making the best of what was available.

But, cripe, these houses were old and so damn small. The only saving grace was the tall mulberry tree in every front yard. But the ancient trees actually made the houses appear even smaller.

He’d driven through some very rundown areas to get here, had seen teenagers hanging out on the corners, many wearing what he had a feeling were gang colors. This entire section of Tucson was crime waiting to happen.

How could Heather sleep at night, knowing she was raising her daughters in such a dangerous location? What kind of a mother would—

Hold it, Marshall. That had been a lousy thing to mentally insinuate about Heather. He was positive that Heather lived here with her girls because this was the best she could afford.

That made sense. The records he’d uncovered about Frank listed his half brother’s occupation as a gas station attendant. Not a certified mechanic, just a guy who pumped gas, he guessed. That wouldn’t have left any kind of estate to his pregnant widow.

He also knew from his hours on the Internet that Frank Marshall had been killed in an automobile accident driving while drunk. His investigative skills had turned up a copy of the police report. Some more delving had provided the information that the twins had been born about six months later.

Heather Marshall deserved a lot of credit for what she’d done on her own. She’d been young, pregnant, and faced with raising two babies alone. He’d found records of the classes she’d taken for many years, finally obtaining her license as a certified public accountant.

She worked at home, apparently, to be there for her daughters. That meant she had no group medical insurance, no retirement plan, no benefits at all that came from being employed by a large firm.

Hand to mouth, Mack thought, parking in front of Heather’s house. That was how this little family was living. He didn’t like that. He sure as hell didn’t.

Mack retrieved his parcels from the passenger seat, locked the Blazer he’d rented, then started slowly up the front walk leading to the house. The walkway was cracked in places and several chunks of cement were totally missing.

The minuscule yard was free of weeds, but was more dirt than grass, and a bald tire hung by a rope from a limb on the mulberry tree. The house itself was a rather strange shade of color…not white, not yellow, just dingy gray with no contrasting color on the trim. The roof was a multitude of shades, obviously patched many times over the years with whatever was available.

On the porch, Mack noted the empty hole in the plastic faceplate where the doorbell should have been, and rapped on the door.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and realized to his self-disgust that he was nervous. He, Mack Marshall, who had braved a multitude of dangerous war zones around the globe, was actually shaking in his shorts about the prospect of attempting to carry on a conversation with a mother and her two young daughters. Ridiculous, but annoyingly true.

“Get a grip,” he muttered, then waited for the door to open.

“He’s here,” Melissa said, jumping off her chair. “I’ll answer the door.”

“No, I want to,” Emma said, leaving the table and running after her sister.

“Wait,” Heather said, getting to her feet. “Oh, never mind.”

She was nervous, she thought, as she trailed after the girls. She’d had a difficult time concentrating on her work while the twins were in school, had glanced at the clock so often she’d felt like one of those bobbing toys that people put on the dashboards of their cars. Ridiculous.

As Heather heard a chorus of, “Hi. Come in,” she smoothed the waistband of her bright red string sweater over her jeans-clad hips and produced what she hoped was a believable smile.

“Hello, Mack,” she said as he stepped into the living room.

Oh, gracious, she thought, Mack was even better looking today than he had been last night. How was that possible? But Mack Marshall in black slacks and a navy-blue knit shirt was a sight to behold.

Her heart was beating too fast. What was wrong with her heart? Why was it doing that? Forget it. Just forget it. She had to act like a mature adult, a mother, for heaven’s sake.

“I’d like you to meet my daughters.” She placed one hand on Emma’s shoulder. “This is Emma.” The other hand plopped onto Melissa’s head. “And this is Melissa. Girls, this is Mack Marshall. Your…your uncle. Yes, that’s what you can call him…Uncle Mack.”

“Hi,” the pair said in unison.

“Hi,” Mack said, staring at them.

They were identical twins, he thought incredulously. They both had short, curly black hair, big dark eyes, the very same features and—he’d never been face-to-face with identical twins before.

They were wearing different clothes, thank goodness, which would help him to keep them straight. Emma was wearing a flowered dress and Melissa was decked out in jeans and a baseball jersey that was a bit too big for her.

“I brought you a little something.” Mack handed Heather a bouquet of spring flowers, then gave each of the girls an enormous cellophane-wrapped, rainbow-colored sucker.

“Wow,” Melissa said. “I’ve never seen a sucker this big. This is so cool. Can I eat it now, Mom?”

“I’m going to save mine forever,” Emma said. “It’s so pretty. I’ve never had such a big, beautiful sucker.”

“What do you say?” Heather said.

“Thank you,” the twins chorused.

“And I thank you for the lovely flowers, Mack,” Heather said, not looking directly at him. “Please, have a seat while I put these in water. And, Melissa, no, you can’t have any candy now. We’ll decide after dinner how much of it you can eat at one time. I’ll be right back.”

Heather hurried from the room. Once safely in the kitchen and out of view, she buried her face in the lovely flowers and inhaled their sweet aroma.