Adopted: Twins!

CHAPTER NINE

ERIN slept late. Late, that is, in cattle terms. It must have been three a.m. or later before she’d finally fallen into an uneasy slumber, she was dog tired and she was accustomed to noise. So maybe it wasn’t surprising that when she finally woke, the rest of the cattle pavilion was bustling.

As were Matt and the twins. Erin rolled sleepily over and found herself looking at ten legs. Four belonged to Cecil who was standing looking regally around as his minions worked over him. Four belonged to the twins, who, armed with a brush apiece, were intent on making Cecil look even more regal.

And two belonged to Matt.

‘Well, well. Sleepy-head’s finally decided to grace us with her consciousness. Good morning, Miss Douglas.’

‘Good…good morning.’ She brushed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, then gasped and hauled her sleeping bag up to her neck. She must have pulled the zipper down in her sleep, and her nightdress wasn’t exactly decent…

‘Have a coat,’ Matt said, and tossed a waterproof down to her, though by the glint in his eyes she knew he’d seen-and approved of what he’d seen. ‘Bathroom’s that-away, lady, but you’d better scuttle or you’ll miss breakfast.’

‘Breakfast?’ She was still befuddled by sleep and totally bewildered.

‘Pancakes at two o’clock,’ he told her, doing a sweeping circle of the pavilion until he was pointing to a barbecue at the far end. ‘Courtesy of the Country Women’s Association. But the dress code’s a bit rigid. Nightgowns with unfastened buttons don’t reach their standards.’

She gasped. Enough!

She clutched his waterproof to her while awkwardly escaping from her sleeping bag, then bolted, tinglingly aware that his eyes stayed on her until the door closed behind her.

It was a silly, happy, busy couple of hours before the Grand Parade.

Breakfast was delicious-steak and sausages for those with strong constitutions, but pancakes and honey for those with a bit more finesse. ‘Which is me,’ Erin declared, watching Matt chomp into his beef. ‘And in front of Cecil, too. Honestly, Matt, have you no sensitivity?’

‘If you think for one minute that Cecil will end up as beef steak…’

‘His cousins might.’

‘They’d have to be pretty inferior cousins.’

‘I don’t care. I’m sticking to pancakes. What about you, boys?’ And although the twins desperately wanted to be like Matt, honesty prevailed and pancakes won the day.

‘Weaklings,’ Matt declared but the boys looked up into his twinkling eyes and knew he was kidding them.

Honestly, Erin thought. For a man to get away with calling the twins weaklings-and for the twins to love it…

She could seriously fall for this man-if he wasn’t already spoken for. Or if he wasn’t rich. Or… If a million other things that weren’t going to happen!

Breakfast finished, the whole pavilion settled down to the serious business of making their animal the most magnificent. The animals left here now were all winners, but none looked as great as Cecil, Erin thought, but she knew she was biased. The four of them worked as a team, going way past the necessary preparations for a bull who’d already won champion of his class.

‘Do you think I should tie a big blue bow around his ears?’ she asked as she stood back and admired their handiwork. ‘And maybe a matching one on his tail?’

‘Over my dead body.’ Matt stood beside her and grinned. ‘I’ll have you know my bull’s a he-man and I want him to stay that way. His testosterone level would plummet at the first bow.’

‘And that would never do,’ she said mockingly. ‘A McKay male with suspect testosterone…’

‘We try to keep it above the run of the herd,’ Matt said smugly.

‘Brains or balls.’ Erin nodded sagely as she gazed at Cecil’s amazing appendages. ‘Yep, I can see the choice has been made here.’ Then, as Matt drew in his breath, she took a wise step away from him. ‘Come on, twins,’ she said, choking back laughter at the expression on Matt’s face. ‘There’s no way you can get Cecil more beautiful than he is right now. It’s time for Matt to take him out.’

‘Wait a bit.’ Matt had control of himself now-almost-and he was thinking. He was enjoying himself enormously, he thought, and the realisation was hitting home that his enjoyment was coming to an end.

It shouldn’t be. The Grand Parade here was the ultimate achievement. Already he’d had a steady stream of potential customers, national and international, pass by Cecil’s stall and assess for themselves his stud potential. In the parade, they’d be watching from the stands, making their final decision on which stud farm to choose.

Cecil moved magnificently. In the stalls he looked great, but out in the open he swayed with a majesty that had to be seen to be believed. For potential customers interested in Herefords there was now no choice, Matt knew, and he also knew his income for the next twelve months would skyrocket.

So, for Matt, the parade was the culmination of years of hard work. This was what he, his father and his grandfather had spent years achieving.

Why then, did he feel reluctant to take the rope attached to Cecil’s halter and tug the giant beast toward the parade ring?

Because this year showing Cecil and winning first prize wasn’t the highlight, he thought suddenly. It was working side by side with others; with this funny, warm and lovely woman and her two troubled charges.

This was pure novelty factor, he thought harshly, trying to bring himself back down to earth. He had no intention of working side by side with a woman. He worked alone. That was the way he’d been brought up. It was the order of things, now and forever…

‘Matt! Oh, darling, he’s wonderful!’

It was almost a relief to look up and see Charlotte bearing down on them-a Charlotte refreshed by a good night’s sleep in the hotel, and wearing her signature apparel of white on white. White slacks. White linen blouse with collar that just stood up the right amount. A white on white silk scarf, casually knotted. The very epitome of casual elegance in a wealthy farmer’s wife.

She didn’t have straw sticking out of her hair like Erin did. She hadn’t stepped in a cow pat in her only pair of shoes, forcing her to wear borrowed gum boots three sizes too big-as Erin had.

She was a much more suitable woman, Matt told himself.

The trouble was, she might be more suitable, but she wasn’t nearly as much fun.

Life wasn’t fun, he told himself. Hadn’t his parents taught him anything? Work wasn’t fun. Fun was something you had intermittently with your mates, when the women weren’t around. Fun was…

Hell, he didn’t know what fun was any more.

Wasn’t fun what they’d had this morning?

‘He’s a fine-looking beast.’ With a jolt, Matt hauled himself out of his strange line of thought and realised Charlotte wasn’t alone. Bradley was right behind her, his portentous tones echoing through the pavilion. ‘I hope you don’t mind me escorting Charlotte back here?’

Yep, the weed still remembered the drubbing Matt had given him at school when he’d paraded his self-importance from age ten, and he wasn’t risking anything here.

‘But when I found Charlotte had no one to drive her…’

‘You brought her from the hotel. Very kind.’ Matt was suddenly feeling almost overwhelmingly claustrophobic. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I have to go. Cecil’s required in the ring. Bradley, could you look after Charlotte for me?’

‘Creighton Bow is also required in the ring,’ Bradley said stiffly. ‘The horses come in straight after cattle. My lads are grooming him for me now.’

‘Creighton Bow.’ Oh, right. Bradley’s wonderful horse. ‘Um…right. Did he win, then?’

‘He gained a second placing. I felt the judging overlooked-’

‘I’ll look out for him,’ Matt said hastily. ‘Well done.’ But inside he was cringing in repugnance. To let his lads groom what he knew was a magnificent stallion, without even supervision… To stay the night in the hotel while his precious bloodstock was here… The claustrophobia was rising by the minute.

‘I need to go.’

But then there were two urgent little hands tugging his shirt. ‘Can we come, too? Please, Matt? Can we come, too?’

Matt hesitated-and was lost. A thought hit him, and it was as if a thunderbolt had crashed into his solar plexus. Good grief!

‘Matt, please…’

Why not?

He’d seen this happen. Livestock had been led into the ring by youngsters before, and he’d always thought, how the hell could you put all that work into breeding and preparing an animal and then let someone else show it?

It was like Bradley letting someone else groom his horse.

But it wasn’t like that, he realised suddenly. Bradley let someone else do the hard work and then would take the glory himself. He’d lead Creighton Bow into the ring. Matt looked down into the two desperately eager little faces and he knew that if he let his bolt of lightning idea have its way he’d have two levels of pride. Not one.

He’d never seen it before, but there it was. All those years of watching kids…

His father would never have dreamed of such a thing, he thought, and if he did his mother wouldn’t have allowed it.

But he wasn’t his father, and the idea was like slicing the past from the future. He cast an uncertain glance at Erin, unsure how she’d react, but there was no chance of taking her aside and sounding his idea out.

She looked ridiculous, he thought. She looked unkempt, frazzled, over-booted and underdressed beside Charlotte’s perfect dress code, but his lips twitched at the sight of her and it was only with difficulty that he turned his attention back to the twins.

They were waiting to be turned down. He could see by their eyes that they’d asked to come, too, but they were accustomed to knock-backs. As Erin was accustomed to knock-backs on their behalf.

‘I have a proposition,’ he said, and they stared in incomprehension.

‘A…a propos…’

‘An idea. If you’re willing.’

‘What’s your idea?’ They were all looking at him. Charlotte and Bradley. William and Henry.

And Erin.

Mostly Erin. Or maybe it was mostly Erin he was aware of.

‘You’ve seen how quiet Cecil is?’ He was talking more to Erin than the twins, aware it was she he had to convince rather than them.

‘Yes.’

‘Then if I take him to the entrance and get him into position in the parade, would Erin allow you to take him around the arena for me?’

There was an audible intake of breath from every last one of them-including from Matthew himself. Was he mad? Trusting his precious bull to two urchins?

But he looked down into their incredulous faces and he knew that he had nothing to fear at all. Cecil would be as safe as houses. They considered him theirs, and he was as precious to the boys now as their Tigger.

Heaven help anyone or anything that threatened their Cecil!

Bradley was the first to find his voice. Of course.

‘You’d trust your beast to these…’ He paused, stuck for words, and then found what he was looking for. ‘These brats?’

‘They’re not brats,’ Matt said evenly. ‘They’re my right hand men, and I’d rather trust my bull to these two than to hired hands-as you have your precious horse.’ It was impossible to keep the disdain from Matt’s voice. Bradley might come from a family who bred champion steeplechasers, but you’d never catch Bradley doing anything as menial as grooming.

And as for calling his kids brats!

Erin’s kids, he reminded himself hastily. Not his. Erin’s.

‘Matt, you’re not serious.’ It was Charlotte, putting in her two-bob’s worth, but Matt’s eyes were on Erin.

‘Erin? Is it okay with you?’

Erin thought about it for a whole two seconds flat. For her precious twins, to be given such a trust at the focal point of the most prestigious show in the country…

She met Matt’s look head on, and the eyes looking back at him were bright with tears.

‘Of course it is,’ she managed. ‘If you want to, boys.’

‘If we want to?’ The twins could scarcely breathe for the enormity of what they were being asked. ‘You mean…lead him around the ring…all by ourselves?’

‘All by yourselves,’ Matt said solemnly, still watching the wave of emotion washing over Erin’s face. ‘If I didn’t think you were capable I wouldn’t ask it of you. I’ll be standing at the pavilion doors, waiting for you to bring him back, but once he’s out in the arena he’s all yours.’

Charlotte was not impressed! In fact, Charlotte was about as seriously annoyed as Erin had ever seen her.

Bradley had disappeared to take charge of his horse-his lads had done the work but there was no way he intended handing over the glory to anyone else. Matt and the twins took themselves off to place Cecil in his parade order, and Erin and Charlotte were left together, to do whatever they wished.

Charlotte didn’t wish.

‘If I hadn’t come in Matt’s blasted truck I’d go home now,’ she muttered as the last of the menfolk disappeared from view. ‘I only wanted to see Matt in the grand parade.’

She did, too, Erin thought as she followed her through the door to the stadium. Matt was a man who stood out in any crowd, and to sit in the stadium and casually let all around her know that there was her fiancé… Well, for Charlotte it was the culmination of twenty years of effort.

Instead of which, she had to content herself with two seven-year-olds leading the bull of her fiancé-and it hardly had the same impact to say; ‘Those children are leading my fiancé’s bull!’

‘I guess you can always watch Bradley,’ Erin told her, determined to be good-humoured with the woman. She was feeling so cheerful herself she felt like doing a little jig on the spot. For her twins to be given such responsibility… She tucked her arm into Charlotte’s and refused to withdraw it even as Charlotte tugged sharply away.

Maybe she had to be even nicer. ‘Hey, Charlotte, I’m sorry for saying what I threatened about your poetry,’ she told her. ‘You know I’d never really tell anyone-and, in truth, Shanni burned them.’

‘We were only teenagers,’ Charlotte said, displeased to the core. As well as having to put up with the absence of Matt in the parade, she also had to put up with this disreputable member of the lower orders acting as if she was her friend. Her friend!

Charlotte plumped herself down on a seat and huffed. Not put off in the least, Erin plumped beside her. ‘It was just childish stupidity. I’d forgotten all about it,’ Charlotte added.

‘Bradley hasn’t,’ Erin told her thoughtfully. ‘You must know that. He’s always thought you were the ant’s pants.’

‘There’s no need to be coarse!’

‘Why have you always refused to go out with him?’ Erin said curiously, and got an angry glance for her pains. When Erin still looked an enquiry, Charlotte thrust out her diamond-adorned ring finger, as if that explained all.

‘Because Matt and I-’

‘Not at fifteen,’ Erin told her flatly. ‘Or even at twenty-three. If I remember rightly, Matt didn’t go out with anyone until he was seventeen, and then it was with Sally McKinley.’

‘How on earth do you remember that?’

‘I was three years younger than you and Matt,’ Erin told her simply. Her eyes twinkled. ‘Come to think of it, I still am. But then…well, Matt was school captain and a hunk even then, so whatever he did was the cause of major school gossip. He and Sally-’

‘I don’t want to hear.’

‘No.’ Erin chuckled her agreement. She paused, scanning the cattle starting to emerge from the pavilion, but there was still no sign of Cecil and the twins. More to keep her mind off what the twins might or might not be doing, she kept right on probing. ‘But I seem to remember that Bradley was good-looking, too. Why would you never go out with him?’

Silence while they both thought back, remembering.

It had been no secret that Bradley had been keen on Charlotte. The poetry had been part of years of secret notes, and Bradley’s despair, inexpertly disguised and pounced on with glee by his peers and by those younger than him.

Bradley, in his teens, was a spoiled brat and, as far as the rest of the students were concerned, his passion for Charlotte made him fair game. Especially the impoverished and scorned younger set to which Erin belonged.

More silence.

Normally Charlotte would simply ignore a question such as Erin had just posed. Normally she would just ignore Erin.

But things weren’t normal today. Charlotte’s social set weren’t here- ‘Really, darling, cattle shows, you know. Not our scene!’ Her two men were both out of reach and Charlotte had to either sit alone in the stands or pretend to talk politely to Erin.

She could do it. Erin had been grooming bulls for hours, both Cecil and others. She looked like a farm hand-someone the elegant Charlotte would employ. So she could spread her finger so the morning sun just glinted on her diamond, and give the impression that her purpose here was to discuss cattle quality with the staff.

And she was feeling so grumpy with Matt, she might as well tell all…

‘I could have had both of them,’ she confided, and Erin’s eyebrows rose. Respectfully. She was playing along for all she was worth here. She could have been a peasant, shocked to the core by the goings-on of aristocracy, and Charlotte’s carefully controlled trill of laughter through the stands meant Erin’s ploy was working.

‘Oh, not both at once,’ she continued. ‘But yes, Bradley was certainly keen. He’s still keen now. He’s asked me to marry him-oh, I’ve lost count of the times.’

‘So why not accept? Why pick on… I mean, why did you choose Matt?’ Erin asked respectfully, and once again, Charlotte laughed.

‘Are you kidding? There’s no choice. Matt’s family have had their land forever. His grandfather even had a title!’

Charlotte gave Erin her aristocrat to low life look, meaning with her level of intelligence Erin couldn’t possibly understand, but Erin did. There were still people to whom the phrase ‘old money’ meant something, and Charlotte was certainly one of them.

She chose her words carefully. ‘So otherwise, you didn’t really mind which one you chose?’

‘Of course I did.’ Charlotte simpered and waggled her diamond bearing finger some more. ‘I’m engaged to Matt, aren’t I?’

‘Of course.’

‘And…’

But Erin was no longer listening.

The twins had emerged from the pavilion doors. They were leading Cecil, and Erin was effectively silenced.

So was Charlotte. She puckered her lips in distaste as the twins proudly and solemnly led their charge around the ring. Erin knew that all Charlotte could think of was, why wasn’t Matt leading them?

And Erin was thinking of Matt, too, but in a totally different way. Her gaze never left the faces of her two little boys, and all she could feel was gratitude.

She was so grateful she felt like weeping. Damn, she was weeping!

Below her was the purest of pure bloodstock, being led by the cream of the nation’s farmers-and in their midst were her two abandoned and unwanted little boys.

They were all she could see, and she could only see them through a mist of tears. They were totally unsmiling, and solemn as judges-every sliver of concentration bent on leading their charge around the arena with the dignity he deserved.

What a gift!

Erin sat absolutely motionless, with every fibre of her being willing nothing to go wrong. Nothing did, and when the boys had taken Cecil twice around the arena and Matt had come forward to help them tug him back through the great pavilion doors, Erin reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose. Hard.

Charlotte shifted sideways in distaste, but Erin couldn’t give a toss.

‘Well…’ Somehow she managed to find her voice. She rose, and the smile she gave Charlotte was tremulous. ‘That’s it, then. Are you coming to congratulate them?’

‘What, congratulate the twins? You have to be kidding!’

‘I meant all of them,’ Erin said carefully. ‘Matt, too.’

But Charlotte was fed up with a Matthew she hadn’t been able to boast about. ‘Bradley’s not out yet,’ she said shortly. ‘I’ll stay and watch the horses. At least Bradley has the sense to lead his own beast out.’

Sense?

Maybe. It wasn’t ‘sensible’ for Matt to let the twins lead Cecil, Erin thought.

It wasn’t sensible in the least.

It was just plain wonderful!

It was a subdued set of twins Erin took back to the farm, and it was a very quiet time Erin had of it for the next few days. It was as if they needed time to absorb what had happened to them. They simply couldn’t believe it.

The Grand Parade had been televised. Expecting Matt and Cecil to be in it, Shanni had had the forethought to videotape the program. She and Wendy brought the tape out to the farm and the twins watched themselves on television over and over again.

‘It’s a miracle,’ Wendy said frankly, watching the pair of them. Usually unable to sit still for more than two minutes at a time, the twins had been still for more than half an hour, and Shanni was growing more and more incredulous. ‘How on earth have you done it?’

‘I haven’t done anything,’ Erin said, a trace of trouble in her voice which her friends could hardly miss. ‘It’s Matt who’s transformed them. They follow him like two little shadows.’

‘And that’s a problem?’

‘I think it may be.’

‘Why?’ Wendy probed gently. ‘Maybe Matt’s just what they need.’

‘But it’s a temporary arrangement.’ Erin shook her head and watched the children for a bit longer. ‘I just…worry, I guess. At what will happen when they’re moved on, yet again.’

‘And how about you?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘How about you, Erin Douglas?’ Wendy hadn’t been Erin’s friend for years without being able to read her face like a book, and she didn’t like what she was reading now. ‘How heart-whole and fancy-free are you? When it’s time to move on-will you be able to walk away without a backward glance?’

It was two weeks before Charlotte dropped her bombshell, and those two weeks probably ranked as two of the happiest of the twins’ lives. And Erin’s.

The farm was one huge playground.

Now that Matt had showed his trust in the twins, they repaid him with absolute loyalty. They kept up their allotted duties as Sadie-replacements until Sadie became tired of limping and took her duties back with relish. They obeyed every spoken and unspoken command the wonderful Matt directed at them. Occasionally even Erin was brought up short by the twins’ curt command:

‘Will Matt think this is okay?’

And Matt usually did, because Matt, too, was enjoying himself. The twins and Erin herded his cattle. They helped cut and bale his hay. The climbed his haystacks, they swam in his river, they roamed his farm…

And usually he wasn’t far behind them. If Erin took the twins down to the river for a swim, ten to one he’d arrive within the hour-‘just to check that things are okay’.

‘How can they be anything else?’ Erin would demand. ‘You have the boys hypnotised. Honestly, Matt, they’re starting to love you.’

But he didn’t see the problem. Only Erin saw it, and she worried about it.

And she worried about herself, too. This was only for six months, she told herself firmly. This was only until the Home was rebuilt.

And then she had to walk away from here. And leave Matt to Charlotte.

But it wasn’t to be for six months.

They’d hardly seen Charlotte since Lassendale. Matt had disappeared a couple of times to visit her for dinner, but Erin and the twins were persona non grata with Charlotte-and that was the way they liked it.

So it was with some surprise that they saw her car pull up one morning early after breakfast. Charlotte gave the car door a business-like slam and strode purposefully toward the house.

‘Uh, oh,’ said William, and Erin thought the same. Matt rose to greet his beloved and the three watched with interest. No passionate hugs here, thought Erin. Matt smiled a welcome, but they didn’t even touch.

‘Hi, Charlotte? What brings you here?’

‘Because I’ve been longing to see you.’ That was what she should have said, Erin thought and with a blinding flash of clarity she also thought, that’s what I would have said. Instead, Charlotte said no such thing.

‘Because I have such good news,’ Charlotte told him, not even bothering to greet Erin and the children. ‘Priscilla’s has had a cancellation and the church is free at the same time!’

‘Priscilla’s?’

‘You know Priscilla’s. The great reception house up in the hills behind town. It used to belong to Sir Reginald Chester and his family but they let it go to ruin. The people who’ve restored it have done such a fantastic job. It’s the best, Matthew, and it’s the only thing that’s been holding up our wedding as I refuse to hold our reception anywhere but at the best. Mummy agrees. But now it’s all set. Four weeks from today. Then two weeks’ honeymoon on Norfolk Island and back here as man and wife.’

And she looked at Erin for the first time-and beamed.

Erin flinched.

She couldn’t live with this woman, she thought, even if she was welcome. And the thought of playing third party to a newly-wed Matt and Charlotte made her feel ill.

‘I… That’s great,’ she managed. Her eyes moved to Matt who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I’ll organise something with Tom. If we can stay for those six weeks, we’ll be out before you’re back from your honeymoon.’

‘You’re welcome to stay,’ Matt started but Charlotte cut in over him.

‘Of course you’ll stay until we get back from our honeymoon,’ she said sweetly. ‘But after that… Matt and I have talked about it. Three adults looking after two children is a bit of overkill-wouldn’t you say, Erin?’

‘Well-’

‘Of course it is. And Matt won’t hear of moving the children out until the orphanage is rebuilt.’ She tucked her arm in his, society hostess approving her slightly eccentric husband’s absurd acts of generosity. ‘So after we return, I’ll play mother to the boys.’ She looked doubtfully at Erin. ‘I suppose the Orphanage can find somewhere for you to stay.’

She’s acting like I’m an orphan myself, Erin thought wildly. Good grief!

‘Erin can stay here,’ Matt growled but Erin and Charlotte ignored him.

‘You’re saying you and Matt wish to be the boys’ foster parents?’ Erin demanded. She felt sick.

Why, though? She had no right to be. The boys weren’t hers.

And if Matt loved them then maybe it’d turn out to be a long-term solution for them. They loved Matt so much, and as long as they stayed out of Charlotte’s way…

Which wasn’t going to happen, she decided, marshalling her thoughts as the twins looked on in confusion. Charlotte had made not the slightest effort to conceal her dislike of the children. How could the twins possibly be expected to ignore that dislike?

They’d cause trouble the minute Erin left.

‘You’d be good for us, wouldn’t you?’ Charlotte asked them, gimlet-eyed. Dear God, Erin thought. Maybe they would, and the thought of subdued twins was almost worse than the thought of naughty ones.

‘I’ll have to talk to Tom before I can agree,’ she managed. ‘Tom’s the director of Bay Beach Orphanage. Arrangements like this are up to him.’

In answer, Charlotte gave her lovely, soft, carefully cultivated laugh.

‘It’s a wonderful offer, Erin. How could Tom refuse?’

How indeed?