Her Sister's Children. Roxanne Rustand
Читать онлайн книгу.
was a vast, rugged area. She and Logan might never run into each other.
One thing was for sure. If she noticed him first, they would never meet again.
Two HOURS LATER, Claire parked the minivan back at Pine Cliff. The children, stuffed on pepperoni pizza with double cheese, had been quiet all the way home.
“Who’s ready for a good hike?” she asked, automatically hitting the door locks after everyone clambered out of the vehicle.
She looked down at the key in her hand, then scanned the vast forest rimming the resort on three sides. The endless expanse of lake to the east. The quiet felt almost overwhelming. This wasn’t exactly New York, where thieves stripped cars in minutes, and an unlocked vehicle might as well bear an engraved invitation on its hood. Where the continual sound of traffic and anonymous crowds blended into the white noise of familiarity. Loneliness and a sense of unease streaked through her as she pocketed her car keys.
Then she focused on the single row of fifteen cozy cabins hugging the shore, each flanked by a guest’s car. Gulls cried overhead and waves splashed. It wasn’t quiet, not really. She glanced at the children. And she certainly wasn’t alone.
“Why did we have to come up here?” Jason muttered, kicking a chunk of gravel across the lane. His chin lifted in sudden challenge. “Why didn’t we go to New York?”
Because I’m going to save you three from the lonely childhood I had. You’re going to have a real family.
Claire’s own mother and father had abdicated their parental duties to domestic employees long before their divorce when she was twelve. Brooke, by then a college freshman, married young and never again came home. Claire had landed in an exclusive boarding school she’d hated from the first day.
And now, back in New York, her obstinate father was determined to see his only grandson follow that Worth family boarding school tradition, though Claire had already made her opposition clear. The battles ahead defied description, but a buffer of a thousand miles would at least limit most of those battles to phone and fax.
She searched for an excuse. “You couldn’t have kept your pets in New York, honey. No animals were allowed in my building.”
Jason’s chin went a notch higher. “Coulda snuck ’em in.”
“You don’t know the doorman.” Claire rolled her eyes. “He must have been a secret agent in a past life.”
“Minneapolis, then.”
Darting apprehensive glances at Jason, the twins edged closer to her. Claire could guess what they were thinking. Until Brooke and Randall’s will was located and their tangled estate settled, the children had stayed at their maternal grandmother’s gated property in Wayzata. They were probably remembering endless hours of proper behavior and dutiful silence in that cold and lonely place.
“We’ll have more fun living up here, don’t you think?” Claire asked. Conflicting emotions raced across Jason’s face. Fear? Surely not. She gave all three children a dazzling smile. “So, shall we go for that hike?”
With a snort of disgust, Jason turned on his heel and stalked to the house. After a moment of indecision, the girls each took one of Claire’s hands and they started down the lane.
There was a sharp nip in the September air, hinting at the change of season that was coming. Claire breathed deeply to inhale the crisp, sweet fragrance of pine. To the left, early-evening sunlight sparkled across the gentle waves of Lake Superior.
She laughed aloud with sheer delight. The twins looked up in surprise.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” She smiled down at them. “I’ve never seen a northern Minnesota fall. The Herald says we’ll be seeing the best autumn colors in years.”
Both girls nodded silently and walked beside her, kicking up puffs of dust with their matching pink Nikes. When they passed the last cabin, Claire dropped to one knee and gave them both a hug. They instinctively stiffened at her touch, but she held them close for a moment before rising to her feet.
“Well, girls, where should we go next—down the shoreline? Or toward the highway?” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “We might see some deer in the woods.”
Annie dug her toe into the gravel. “I never saw a deer, ’cept in a zoo.”
“Then let’s look, okay?” Claire reached down to take little hands once more.
They turned up the mile-long lane toward the highway. Ancient pines towered high above them at either side, leaving scant space for grasses and wildflowers at the edge of the road. Beneath the dense, dark skirts of the trees stretched an endless carpet of bronze and amber pine needles. The muted sunlight and heavy incense of evergreen reminded Claire of her favorite European cathedral, its vaulted expanses hushed into reverent silence.
“This is lovely. Do you like it here?” Claire asked.
The little girls tightened their hands on her own, but they didn’t reply. In their entire month with her, they’d never said a word about their parents’ deaths, or about the many changes in their lives since that awful night. She’d yet to see them display the grief they must be feeling.
Should she bring up painful topics? Wait until they did? She wanted nothing more than to help them in any way she could.
They spied a meadow, just beyond a line of pines standing like sentinels along the road, and moved quietly to its edge.
“This looks like a perfect place for fairies, doesn’t it?” Claire whispered.
Annie nodded, her eyes wide and solemn. “I bet they dance here at night.”
They stood in silence for a while. The earthy scents of cold, damp moss and fallen leaves reminded Claire of her college years away from home—of hayrides and fire-roasted hot dogs and homecoming games of the past. She wondered if the somber girls were even aware of their surroundings.
“You can talk to me about anything,” Claire said softly, giving their hands a gentle squeeze. “Are you feeling sad? Will it help to tell me?”
Lissa dropped her head lower, but Annie looked up with eyes filled with such haunting pain that Claire drew a sharp breath.
“T-telling makes you cry. If we m-make you—”
Lissa jerked her hand away and spun around to face Annie. “No! Don’t say!”
Dear God. What did I do wrong? Claire cursed her own inadequacy. She dropped to her knees, drawing the little girls into a snug embrace. “Lissa. Annie. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lissa glared at Annie, clearly issuing a silent warning. Annie stared at the silver ballerina appliqué on her sweatshirt, then sniffled and rubbed her nose against her sleeve. “If we talk about M-Mommy, you cry. If we make you s-sad you might—you might—” Small hiccuppy sobs shook her fragile shoulders.
Claire pulled the girls even closer. Her heart shattered. “I love you so much,” she murmured, her damnable, betraying tears welling hot and heavy against her eyelashes.
“See, see what you did?” Lissa’s voice rose to a shriek. She Hung a small fist at Annie, but Claire gently caught the blow in midnight.
Annie, like a stoic saint awaiting execution, had remained deathly still within the curve of Claire’s arm, ready to accept her sister’s punishment. Her voice, whispery soft, came indistinctly at first, then a bit louder. Complete resignation framed every word.
“You might send us back to Grandmother and Great-grandmother if we make you sad.”
Curse those women. Claire’s coldly aristocratic grandmother and mother were cut from the same cloth. No wonder her father had escaped to New York years ago. She could imagine them telling the girls, “Crying does not help. Sit up and eat your dinner” without so much as a pat on the shoulder. Heaven only knew how many times her own childhood