The Twins' Family Wish. Lois Richer

He frowned. “How did you—?”

      “The twins, of course.” She grinned at him. “They said you and their mother grew up with your family beside a lake here in Arizona.” Penny shook her head. “How blessed were you?”

      “Very blessed,” he agreed. “I had a great childhood.” He watched as she poured a big glass of lemonade and set it in front of him. Cookies sat piled high on a platter in the middle of the table. “Chocolate chip?” He was surprised when she shook her head.

      “As a treat for sitting so still while we had Katie’s hair cut, I bought the twins ice cream cones at the water park. I thought it would be wise to tone down the rest of the sugar content today so these are coconut oatmeal with a bit of honey as a sweetener. Try one,” she invited, then as the microwave beeped revised, “Or maybe after you eat dinner.”

      Penny’s roast chicken dinner was delicious. Rick savored every bite of his abundant serving then finished it off with a third glass of lemonade.

      “This is really delicious,” he said, savoring the tangy flavor. “What kind is it?”

      “Uh, lemonade.” Penny looked confused by the question.

      “I meant what brand.” When she frowned he immediately realized his mistake. “This isn’t from a package, or frozen, is it?” When she shook her head, Rick noticed the bits of lemon floating among the chunks of ice and a couple of seeds that must have slipped in. “I haven’t had real lemonade since I don’t know when. It’s very good. Did the kids drink it?”

      “Of course.” She frowned. “Why wouldn’t they? They helped make it.”

      “Katie and Kyle made and drank real lemonade?” Rick couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “You must be Wonder Woman.”

      “Hardly.” Penny’s lilting laughter filled the room but it was her face that held his attention. Though her eyes sparkled with fun, behind that he saw a steely willpower. “I offered them two choices, lemonade or water. They drank both but seemed to prefer the lemonade.”

      “Huh. Seems like I’m always buying juice for them, even though I know it’s full of sugar.” As usual, guilt rushed in. “Gillian made her own juice,” he mumbled, feeling inadequate.

      “Rick, you can’t do everything she did,” Penny said in a quiet voice. “And I doubt she’d expect you to.”

      Funny that he’d never considered Gillian’s expectations of him.

      “The twins shared some of their memories after we had dinner tonight. I know that Gillian was a great mom.” Her smile altered; she grew more serious. “The thing is, Rick, a great mom has just one desire for her kids, one thing she wants above all else.”

      “Which is?” He waited, his interest in her opinion growing.

      “A mom who truly loves her kids wants the person who cares for them when she can’t to love them as much as she would. Just like you do.” Penny’s kind words soothed and comforted him. “I can tell that you love Katie and Kyle very much. You’re doing exactly what Gillian would have wanted.”

      “Except it’s not enough.” As soon as he said it Rick wished he hadn’t.

      He was so tired, worn out with trying to be all things for his business, the twins and his overworked parents. He hadn’t been able to get out to the lake and help them begin the summer season, as he usually did. Greg’s illness meant he hadn’t been able to spend as much time with his parents, helping them deal with Gillian’s death. Neither had he been able to get the twins out to the lake as frequently as he should have so his grieving parents could find some solace in their daughter’s children.

      The truth was Rick was barely managing to juggle all the balls in his life. He spent his day moving from worksite to worksite, always dreading that he might mess up something important and make things worse. And while he kept that tucked inside, he also fought his growing fears that he’d fail to live up to what his sister wanted, that he wouldn’t be there when the twins needed him, that the twins would suffer because of him.

      Suddenly the weight of it all multiplied, stretching his nerves taut until he blurted, “I can’t make up for it.”

      “For what?” Penny frowned, which puckered her smooth brow. She leaned forward to peer into his face. “What are you trying to make up for, Rick?”

      He held his breath, waiting, hoping she’d let him off the hook, wouldn’t force him to answer. He hadn’t said this to anyone else, especially not his parents, certainly not his clients, not even to Tanner even though he was a good friend.

      But Penny waited, her question hanging, begging an answer.

      “Never mind.” He took another cookie and chewed it so he couldn’t say any more.

      “I can tell that whatever has you feeling guilty is wearing you down,” she guessed, her head tipped slightly to one side. “You need to let it go.”

      “It’s not that easy.” Oh, how he wished it was.

      “Of course it isn’t easy. The important things never are.” Penny tilted her head to one side as she studied him. “I’m guessing your guilt has to do with your sister’s death.”

      Rick remained silent while wishing he’d never brought up the subject.

      “Guilt will drain you, sap your energy and change your focus. You can’t dwell on it.” Her soft voice was like a balm, soft and soothing.

      “I can’t help it.” Rick raked a hand through his hair feeling as helpless as a kitten to battle the negatives that plagued him.

      “But you have to for the twins’ sake. They need your full attention. So does your work.” Though Penny’s tone remained mild she didn’t mince words. “There’s no room for guilt.”

      What would she say if she knew why he felt guilty, Rick wondered? Would she walk away? Would she refuse to have anything to do with him or the twins? Would she blame him?

      More to the point, why did Penny’s good opinion of him matter so much?

      “Talk to me, Rick,” she murmured.

      “I tried to get Gillian out.” It was like a dam breaking and once started, he couldn’t stop. “I managed to fight through the flames to the twins’ bedroom and carry them out of the house but when I went back in I couldn’t find Gillian. The smoke was so thick you couldn’t breathe. But I kept going anyway. I couldn’t leave her there, alone.”

      “Of course you couldn’t. And then?” she nudged.

      “Then a burning timber fell on me and—I don’t remember much more.” Except the pain. He remembered that very clearly. In fact, the horror of those moments haunted him almost every night.

      “It’s over, Rick.” Penny’s soft reassurance penetrated his thoughts. “Gillian doesn’t blame you.”

      “Doesn’t she?” She should. He’d made her children orphans.

      “Gillian knows that God is in control, that He will love and care for the twins better than she ever could. And she knows there was a reason for her death.” Penny sounded so confident.

      Rick wanted to believe her, to trust that Gillian would absolve him for his failure to save her. But even if she could, he couldn’t. There was no forgiveness for letting his sister die.

      “I can’t accept that.”

      From Penny’s silence and her bent head, Rick figured he’d shocked her. He rose with a silent sigh. The constant guilt he lived with every time he glanced at the twins or heard his sister’s name was his punishment and he didn’t begrudge it. He deserved it. But for the twins’ sake he needed to keep caring for them. He didn’t need more problems so why didn’t God—?

      “I’m sorry, Penny. I shouldn’t have