Twins For Christmas: A Little Christmas Magic / Lone Star Twins / A Family This Christmas. Alison Roberts
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throw her arms around his neck and plant a kiss—sticky with brown sugar—in the middle of his cheek.
The dogs caught the excitement. Benji barked and chased his tail over by the fire and staid old Bob’s tail was waving like a flag. Even studious little Oliver was grinning widely.
Adam could almost taste the sweetness of the sugary kiss Poppy had bestowed but when she returned to her own chair he looked across to where Emma was sitting with her own bowl of porridge. He might have expected to see her beaming at him with that infectious joy she had but, instead, her smile was poignant and there was a sparkle in her eyes that reminded him of when they had been full of tears.
She knew how much of an effort he was making here. That things were going to change and that this was going to be the best Christmas he could manage for the twins.
The memory of that butterfly’s-wing touch of Emma’s lips on the corner of his mouth came flooding back. And that peculiar moment when he’d caught her gaze after she talked about her mother and he’d had the disconcerting notion that he was actually falling into those blue pools. And that merged into a remnant of his dream that he couldn’t quite catch and probably didn’t want to anyway, but something was hanging in the air between him and Emma.
Yes. Things were changing. Had he thrown a pebble into a still pond and the ripples were only just beginning?
That was disturbing. Adam fed his crust to the dogs and drained the last of his coffee.
‘Time for me to go to work,’ he announced gruffly, careful to avoid any more eye contact with Emma that might add to the alarming impression that he might have started something that could get completely out of control.
‘You won’t forget, will you, Dad?’
‘What’s that, Ollie?’
‘About the adventure. In the attic.’
‘No, son.’ He ruffled Oliver’s hair. ‘I won’t forget. I promise.’
He kissed Poppy and nodded farewell to Emma. And it only took that microsecond of a look to realise that there were other things he wasn’t about to forget either.
However much he wished he could.
HE’D BEEN WRONG about the ghost in the attic.
Adam realised that the instant he stepped through the hole in the ceiling, even before he turned to help first Oliver and then Poppy to climb off the steep set of stairs cleverly concealed behind a door that had been locked for years.
The light switch he flicked made several bulbs glow but the light was inadequate for the huge space. Despite the shadows, however, his gaze went straight towards that long rack of dresses in the far corner where the roofline sloped sharply towards the small latticed windows. And the stacks of boxes beside it, full of other clothing and shoes and handbags. He could even make out the jewellery case sitting on top.
They represented what had attracted him to Tania in the first place. The beauty. The glamour. In retrospect he was ashamed of how shallow it was to judge people on their outward appearance like that. Look at how he’d judged Emma in her oversized clothes with her musical accessory as a refugee from the sixties. If fate hadn’t stepped in and made it imperative that he give her a chance, he might never have discovered what an astonishing person lay beneath that appearance.
And fate had been responsible for discovering the real reason for more and more of those ‘shopping’ trips that Tania had needed to keep her happy. Had she even worn half those clothes or had they only ever been a mask for her infidelity?
The presence of Tania’s ghost was all he was aware of by the time Emma’s head appeared through the hole.
‘Oof … I feel like I’m climbing a mountain.’
The steps were certainly steep but shouldn’t have been enough to make a young woman like Emma seem out of breath. Adam could feel his frown deepening as he automatically held out his hand to assist her. For a moment he thought she might refuse the offer but then he felt his hand grasped firmly as she climbed the last of the steps.
Like the children, Emma’s eyes widened as she looked around. ‘Oh, wow … This is a real attic. Full of treasure.’
She was grinning at Adam now and she still hadn’t let go of his hand. He could feel the connection and it was warm and as alive as the sparkle in her eyes.
She’d never be able to cover up a lie, would she? Not with the way her emotions played over her face like this. The idea that she might need to lie felt ridiculous. The conviction that Emma would never be unfaithful to a man she loved came from nowhere.
So did the unexpected pang of something that felt like envy. Letting go of her hand didn’t entirely dispel the disturbing sensation. Whoever it was, he would be a very lucky man.
‘Ohh …’ The gasp from Poppy was full of wonder. ‘Look, Emma … It’s a pram.’
She ran towards the part of the attic on the opposite side from where Tania’s effects had been stored. Alongside an antique pram that had probably carried his grandmother and the double model that had been for the twins much more recently, was a smaller cane one. The one that had caught Poppy’s eye had been made for small girls to carry dolls in. Adam had completely forgotten it was up here.
‘Can I play with it, Daddy? Please?’
‘Of course you can, chicken. We’ll take it downstairs and clean all the dust off. I think it might have been Gran’s when she was a little girl like you.’
Maybe it was the delight on Poppy’s face or the warmth he could still feel from Emma’s hand but the presence of Tania’s ghost was receding. Being pushed into the past where it belonged by not only being in the present but thinking about the immediate future when they would all be safely downstairs and he could lock the old door again.
Poppy was squeaking with pleasure as she manoeuvred the cane pram out from behind the bigger wheels of the others. Oliver was not far away from her, peering into a tin trunk in front of a pile of old leather suitcases. His quietness wasn’t unusual but the intent body language was unmistakeable.
‘What have you found, Ollie?’
‘I think it’s a … train.’
It had been some time since he’d let go of Emma’s hand. Odd that he still could feel the absence of it so strongly. Maybe moving further away from her would help. Adam walked towards his son.
‘It is a train. An old wind-up one.’ He lifted the heavy, metal engine from the trunk to hand to Oliver and then reached to pick up something else. ‘These are the tracks that you can clip together. I used to play with it when I was your age, Ollie. And my father played with it when he was a little boy. I’m pretty sure he got it for a Christmas present one year.’
Oliver’s face was solemn. ‘That’s what I’d like for my Christmas present.’
‘You can’t buy these now.’ Emma had come over to look as well. ‘They’re very old and very special. Antiques. Adam, this is extraordinary. Is that a harp over there?’
‘Aye.’ There was a dusty, old cello keeping it company. Music had been in his family for generations. When had it stopped so completely? When his desire to make it had died along with the trauma of Tania’s death?
Oliver was crouching beside the tin trunk with the train engine cradled in his arms.
Adam crouched down beside him. ‘You don’t have to wait till Christmas, Ollie. We’ll take this downstairs, too, and you can play with it whenever you want.’
Oliver looked as though he couldn’t believe his luck. As if something truly magic had just