Twin Blessings and Toward Home: Twin Blessings / Toward Home. Carolyne Aarsen
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study than to actually see it. So, with Florence Napier’s blessing, she had taken the girls out late at night to look at the stars.
Bethany and Brittany. Sandra’s satisfaction broke as she thought of the girls and, right on the heels of that, of their uncle. His offhand dismissal of her had touched an old wound. One initially opened by her father. She sighed, wondering what it was going to take to finally rid herself of the constant presence of her father’s disapproval.
“Hey, Sandra.” The sound of young voices drifted to her and she sat up, looking around.
Then she saw the vague outline of two girls running up the hill. They materialized beside her and dropped down to the grass, panting.
“What are you girls doing here?” she asked, looking past them. She expected to see Logan looming out of the dark. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
Brittany shrugged her comment off as she caught her breath. “We need to talk to you. Uncle Logan wants us to go to Calgary with him.”
“I know that. He told me. And I don’t suppose Uncle Logan knows you’re here?” Sandra asked.
In the dim light she saw the girls exchange a quick glance.
Bingo.
“Listen, your uncle already has his own opinion of me, and it isn’t what I’d call supportive.” Sandra put an arm around each of them. “So if he finds you here, my feeling is he’s going to be a little underwhelmed by the whole situation.”
The girls giggled.
“Don’t worry about Uncle Logan,” Brittany said airily, waving a hand as if dismissing her six-foot-two-inch relative.
Sandra didn’t think Logan could be gotten rid of that easily. “It’s not a good idea to sneak out at night. What if he checks your beds and you’re gone? He’d worry.”
Brittany and Bethany exchanged another quick glance as if puzzled over this phenomenon. “Our mom and dad never worried when we snuck out at night,” Brittany said.
“We didn’t even need to sneak.”
“Well, I think Uncle Logan is a little different.”
Brittany sighed. “He’s different, all right. He can barely cook.”
“He’s learning,” Bethany replied in her uncle’s defense. “He makes real good pancakes and sausages.”
“Sausages aren’t hard. Even our mom could make them,” Brittany retorted.
“They’re hard. You can burn them real quick if you’re not careful,” Bethany answered, leaning forward to see her sister better. “Uncle Logan doesn’t burn them much.”
Sandra tried to picture Logan standing in front of a stove, cooking. The thought made her smile, as did Bethany’s defense of him.
Brittany turned to Sandra again. “Can’t you help us stay? Could you hide us or something?”
Sandra almost laughed at that. “No. I will not hide you, although I will miss you.”
“Will we see you before we go?”
“When are you leaving?” Sandra asked.
“In a couple of days.”
“I’ll probably be on the beach a few times. But I’ll be moving on once my car is fixed. I can’t stay around here if I don’t have a job.” Sandra felt a clutch of panic at the thought. A prayer hovered on the periphery of her mind. A cry for help and peace. She shook her head as if to dismiss it. God was a father, after all. Distant, reserved and judging.
She got up and pulled the girls to their feet, giving them each a quick hug. “We’ll see each other soon. But now I want you to get back to the house.”
They hugged her, their arms clinging. And again Sandra wondered at their upbringing that they grew so quickly attached to someone they barely knew.
“Go. Now.” Sandra gave them a little push and watched as they walked down the hill, going a different way than they had come.
“Bethany, Brittany.” Logan’s voice, muffled by distance, drifted toward them from another direction.
The girls glanced at Sandra who fluttered an urgent hand at them, then they turned and ran down the shortcut.
“Bethany, Brittany, I know you’re up there,” Logan called, coming closer.
Sandra winced at the tone of his voice, wrapping her blanket around herself. “He does not sound amused,” she whispered, bracing herself as she turned to face him.
Logan’s heavy step faltered when he saw who stood on the hill.
“Hey, how’s it going?” she asked, adopting a breezy attitude as Logan made it to the top of the hill.
He stood in front of her. Loomed would be a better word, she thought, looking at him in the vague light.
Don’t step back. Don’t show fear, she reminded herself.
“It’s not going good. Where are my nieces?”
Sandra’s spine automatically stiffened at his autocratic and accusing tone. “And why do you suppose I would know where they are?”
Logan’s hands were planted on his hips, his feet slightly spread, as if he were ready to do battle. Sandra stifled a mixture of fear and admiration at the sight. “Because I’m pretty sure they snuck out to meet you.”
It was his tone more than what he said that sparked her temper. That and the remembrance of how he looked down his nose at her the day she had come to teach the girls. The day he had picked her up on the road. “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice hard. “And I suppose I encouraged that?”
He said nothing, and each beat of silence made Sandra fume even as his scrutiny made her feel uncomfortable. His silence and his pose reminded her of intimidating sessions with her father as she struggled to explain herself to him once again. To explain how once again she had failed the great Professor Bachman.
But she was a big girl now. And men like Logan—men like her father—didn’t bother her as easily as they used to.
“Your nieces aren’t here,” she said and turned away from him. The conversation was over.
“I saw their bedroom window open,” Logan said, his voice quieter. “I saw a chair under the window.”
“Which means what?” she asked, turning to face him. “I’m sure if you were to go down to your house right now you’d find them in bed.”
Logan seemed to consider this. “If I talk to them I’ll get the truth out of them,” he said confidently. “I always do.”
“You might. If you push.” Sandra wasn’t about to either enlighten or lie to him. But some part of her felt sorry for the girls and the confusion of moving from their parents’ home to an uncle they had known only briefly. She tried to choose her words, advocating for two girls who, underneath their flighty natures, felt lost and afraid of the future. “I know that if you push children, you can end up pushing them into a lie.” She shrugged. “Sometimes you have to choose the battles you want to win.”
“You’re not defending my nieces, are you?” Logan asked.
In the darkness Sandra couldn’t tell from his expression if she had imagined the faint note of humor in his voice.
She lifted one shoulder. “Not really. I just know they really like being here in Cypress Hills. The freedom and the memories, I guess.”
“The memories I’ll grant them. But they’ve had enough freedom in their life.”
Sandra sighed at the harsh note. “Their parents loved them. Surely that speaks for something.”
“It was a strange kind of love, as far as I’m