Mistletoe Twins

“Sometimes. Mostly at the rodeo or when I was breaking a very stubborn horse.” Mac’s troubled face sent a pang through her. “Remember how if I got restless I took off to the mountains. If I needed excitement, I’d hike the badlands. Or ski the backcountry. Or climb where tourists never go.”

All very risky activities, Adele mentally noted. Was he running to or away from something?

“I don’t have those options anymore,” he muttered.

“Mac, you can still ski—”

“I don’t want to go to Marmot Basin and stand in line while people gawk at me as I struggle to figure out how to manipulate myself on and off the chair lift with one hand,” he interrupted bluntly, his face dark. “I don’t want to have to always have someone with me to watch out for me when I white-water raft or climb a rock face. If you want the truth, Delly, if I can’t have what I had, I just want to hide.” His shoulders slumped. “Maybe the ranch is the best place to do that.”

Shocked by the despair in his words and voice, Adele was at a loss. It was no use telling her pal that he’d figure it out or find something else to give him the same high. This was Mac. He’d always gotten his high from life lived on the edge, and now he felt he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump my frustrations on you.” His hand covered hers and his gorgeous smile flashed, hiding the loss she’d seen revealed in his eyes mere moments earlier. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

“Stop it, Mac.” She jerked her hand from under his and rose, facing him as annoyance surged through her. “Stop pretending everything’s fine. I can take your honesty. I can’t take your fake acceptance of what life has handed you.”

To her complete exasperation he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on hips.

“You and your honesty.” Mac shook his head. “Spicy, tart, yet sweet and always, always that blunt demand for honesty. You’re the only one who has never let me get away with anything, do you know that, Delly?”

Adele didn’t know what to say.

“Remember the night I was going to go hot-rodding and you made me pull over so you could get out?”

“Yes.” Adele mostly remembered how maddened she’d been.

“You were always the voice of reason,” he said softly, studying her face. “I used to hear your voice sometimes when I was flying.”

“No doubt right before you were about to try some silly stunt.” She shuddered at the fleeting thought of her world without Mac.

“Sometimes.” He looked at his damaged arm. When he spoke next his voice was very quiet, almost as if he were talking to himself. “When I was going down the last time, I could almost hear you chewing me out for—”

“For what?” she nudged, curious to hear. But Mac’s face froze. He jerked to his feet.

“I need to get home. I should at least feed my own horses now that I’m back, not leave it to Dad.”

“Mac?” Adele waited until he was looking at her. “May I say something?” She smiled at his slow nod. “You can still do an awful lot, even take chances again, if you must. But maybe now you need to think ahead a bit more, plan it out. Set your goal, calculate the risk and decide if the payoff is big enough.”

“Ah, but spur-of-the-moment is half the fun, Delly.” His grin returned, as if the old Mac was back, but she knew it was a pretense. Unfortunately he left before she could think of a suitable comeback.

Adele began setting the table, her thoughts in a turmoil. The man was used to riding a roller coaster through life. He’d always thrived on action and if it wasn’t there, he’d created it. But Mac was bright, capable and adept at finding unconventional solutions to problems. She didn’t think that had changed.

What had changed was Mac’s fearlessness. The old Mac would never have cared if someone was watching him or not. He would have charged ahead and done what he wanted, gotten his thrill.

“I’m his friend, so somehow I have to help him see that ranching isn’t a dead end, that there’s still plenty of opportunity to live an exciting life on the Double M. But how do I do that, Lord?” she asked aloud. Past images of Mac with his precious miniature horses filled her mind. “Maybe I’ll start with them.”

Francie and Franklyn rushed into the room, raving about their story.

“It was about horses, huh?” Okay, God, I’m taking that as Your nudge. “How’d you like to go visit Mac on his ranch tomorrow? Maybe he’ll show you his horses. They’re just your size.”

Entranced by the prospect, the twins accepted the paper and crayons she offered and sat down on the window seat to draw pictures for Mac. When Jake arrived with the cabbage, the kids told him about their planned trip to the ranch.

“You’re really good at keeping them busy,” he said to Adele. “A born mom.”

“Hardly.” After Jake left, Adele put the finishing touches on the meal, but his words replayed in her head. Was she going to be a mom? She wanted that, so much.

All at once dreams of her children, her family gathered here at The Haven, grew full-blown. If she had a daughter, she’d be named Gina, for her sister.

You’ll be there for them, but who will be there for you?

Adele pushed away the painful thought. Right now, whatever was wrong, Mac needed her as his friend. She’d concentrate on that.

* * *

After dinner with his folks, Mac wandered outside, drawn automatically to his beloved miniature horses. They stood in a corner of their small paddock, huddled together against the cool of the autumn evening. At less than thirty-four inches tall they were the perfect height for petting. Their noses nuzzled him as if to say, “Welcome home.”

Delighted when two of his favorite mares began poking his pockets in search of the sugar lumps he always carried, Mac moved from animal to animal, bestowing the gift on each, totally at ease here, even without his other hand. Miniatures were so gentle. They didn’t prance or act up or need constant attention. They always seemed perfectly content to be exactly where they were. He envied them that.

Adele had phoned to say she was bringing the twins tomorrow. Since all eight of his miniatures were in excellent condition, Mac figured he’d saddle his two favorites and see if he could teach Francie and Franklyn to ride.

In another phone call tonight, Adele’s sister Victoria had again urged his dad to instigate a trail riding program for The Haven using the Double M’s horses. His father wasn’t interested but Mac was, especially after a glance at the ranch books. Their income needed a boost and since their ranch hand, Gabe, had experience using horses in an equine training program for kids, trail riding seemed doable.

If he took over the ranch...

“You be nice to Francie and Franklyn when they come,” Mac told his horses, veering away from making that decision, smoothing their backs as he spoke. “In the morning I’ll give you a special currying so you look good.”

Here among his pets, as he talked to them and smoothed their flanks, his restless soul slowly calmed and he could think more clearly. Was the Double M where he belonged? He wasn’t sure, and though he tried to pray about it, God’s leading seemed dulled by the guilt he felt.

“I want to do what the parents expect. I want to take over for them, give them a break, even keep their legacy going. But what if—”

And that was the problem in a nutshell. What if? What if he couldn’t take the lifestyle? What if he messed up the ranch like he’d messed up his copilot Dave’s life? And his own. What if he needed a bigger, better, faster thrill to satisfy the empty hole inside him? And what if because of Dave and that undeserved medal the military had issued him, Mac never got past the lump of guilt that lay in his gut like a ball of cement?

If he told Adele the whole truth, she’d push him to seek Dave’s forgiveness, make things right with his bosses. But giving back the medal would raise too many questions and revive the crash that he only wanted to forget. His parents would be ashamed and appalled by his behavior.

Dave wouldn’t be so willing to forgive the man who’d made him a paraplegic, either. Hearing his blame given voice would make the guilt ten times worse. Besides, what good would it do now? Mac had lost his hand. Dave had lost the use of his legs.

Frustrated and confused, thoughts muddled by too many questions without answers, Mac made sure the horses were safely enclosed, then walked back to the house. He was going to have to talk to Adele’s aunties soon. He needed their advice to figure out his future.

The hard part would be living up to Adele’s expectations.

Chapter Four (#u2344d822-a1cd-5153-b484-e66cd214ec78)

“Good old Snowball.” Adele laughed the following afternoon when, after not receiving a treat, the miniature horse stamped her hoof against the ground and whinnied. “Pretty girl doesn’t look much older than when I last saw her.”

“She’s a grandmother now.” Mac’s eyes softened as he patted the shaggy white horse. “Those are her children. Diver was her first. Then Flyer, both geldings. And this little one is Princess.”

“She looks like a Princess. I remember when Snowball was your first and only miniature.” Adele smiled as the dainty mama pushed her head against Franklyn’s shoulder.