Mistletoe Twins. Lois Richer

miniature horses filled her mind. “Maybe I’ll start with them.”

      Francie and Franklyn rushed into the room, raving about their story.

      “It was about horses, huh?” Okay, God, I’m taking that as Your nudge. “How’d you like to go visit Mac on his ranch tomorrow? Maybe he’ll show you his horses. They’re just your size.”

      Entranced by the prospect, the twins accepted the paper and crayons she offered and sat down on the window seat to draw pictures for Mac. When Jake arrived with the cabbage, the kids told him about their planned trip to the ranch.

      “You’re really good at keeping them busy,” he said to Adele. “A born mom.”

      “Hardly.” After Jake left, Adele put the finishing touches on the meal, but his words replayed in her head. Was she going to be a mom? She wanted that, so much.

      All at once dreams of her children, her family gathered here at The Haven, grew full-blown. If she had a daughter, she’d be named Gina, for her sister.

       You’ll be there for them, but who will be there for you?

      Adele pushed away the painful thought. Right now, whatever was wrong, Mac needed her as his friend. She’d concentrate on that.

      * * *

      After dinner with his folks, Mac wandered outside, drawn automatically to his beloved miniature horses. They stood in a corner of their small paddock, huddled together against the cool of the autumn evening. At less than thirty-four inches tall they were the perfect height for petting. Their noses nuzzled him as if to say, “Welcome home.”

      Delighted when two of his favorite mares began poking his pockets in search of the sugar lumps he always carried, Mac moved from animal to animal, bestowing the gift on each, totally at ease here, even without his other hand. Miniatures were so gentle. They didn’t prance or act up or need constant attention. They always seemed perfectly content to be exactly where they were. He envied them that.

      Adele had phoned to say she was bringing the twins tomorrow. Since all eight of his miniatures were in excellent condition, Mac figured he’d saddle his two favorites and see if he could teach Francie and Franklyn to ride.

      In another phone call tonight, Adele’s sister Victoria had again urged his dad to instigate a trail riding program for The Haven using the Double M’s horses. His father wasn’t interested but Mac was, especially after a glance at the ranch books. Their income needed a boost and since their ranch hand, Gabe, had experience using horses in an equine training program for kids, trail riding seemed doable.

      If he took over the ranch...

      “You be nice to Francie and Franklyn when they come,” Mac told his horses, veering away from making that decision, smoothing their backs as he spoke. “In the morning I’ll give you a special currying so you look good.”

      Here among his pets, as he talked to them and smoothed their flanks, his restless soul slowly calmed and he could think more clearly. Was the Double M where he belonged? He wasn’t sure, and though he tried to pray about it, God’s leading seemed dulled by the guilt he felt.

      “I want to do what the parents expect. I want to take over for them, give them a break, even keep their legacy going. But what if—”

      And that was the problem in a nutshell. What if? What if he couldn’t take the lifestyle? What if he messed up the ranch like he’d messed up his copilot Dave’s life? And his own. What if he needed a bigger, better, faster thrill to satisfy the empty hole inside him? And what if because of Dave and that undeserved medal the military had issued him, Mac never got past the lump of guilt that lay in his gut like a ball of cement?

      If he told Adele the whole truth, she’d push him to seek Dave’s forgiveness, make things right with his bosses. But giving back the medal would raise too many questions and revive the crash that he only wanted to forget. His parents would be ashamed and appalled by his behavior.

      Dave wouldn’t be so willing to forgive the man who’d made him a paraplegic, either. Hearing his blame given voice would make the guilt ten times worse. Besides, what good would it do now? Mac had lost his hand. Dave had lost the use of his legs.

      Frustrated and confused, thoughts muddled by too many questions without answers, Mac made sure the horses were safely enclosed, then walked back to the house. He was going to have to talk to Adele’s aunties soon. He needed their advice to figure out his future.

      The hard part would be living up to Adele’s expectations.