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"I've spent more time doing things with them this week than I ever did before," Cale was saying, "and I have to admit,
it has been fun."
"I think the secret may be just to keep them busy with something they like to do."
"I'm just starting to learn what they like to do." His face sank into a frown. "I hate admitting that, that my sons are four years old already and I hardly know them at all."
"Some fathers never get to know their children," she told him.
"Daddy, I can't sleep." A very small voice emerged from the dark hall.
"What's the matter, little buddy?" Cale's face softened as Evan appeared tentatively, his face flushed, his fisted hands rubbing his eyes.
"I had a bad dream."
"Oops." Cale walked to his son and picked him up, resting the little head on his shoulder. "Maybe ghost stories at bedtime weren't such a good idea, after all."
"Will you stay with me?" Evan yawned into his father's neck.
Cale looked at Quinn and she nodded. "I'm kind of tired anyway," she told him. "I'll just get ready for bed and turn in."
"Well…" He hesitated for just a second, then nodded slowly, saying, "I guess I'll see you in the morning."
"Sure. Good night, Cale." She stood and patted the little boy gently on the back. "Good night, Evan."
" 'Night, Quinn," was the sleepy reply.
Cale's footfall echoed softly on the old pine floor as he carried his son back to his bed. Quinn piled logs onto the fire, and changed into the clothes she had worn to bed the night before. Not stylish, certainly not sexy, she noted, but they were warm. And warm was no small thing in the midst of the storm that continued to rage outside the cabin. She hoped that it would stop tomorrow. She just didn't know how much longer she could stand being here with him. She had held on so tightly to the pain he had inflicted on her that, for years, it had been all she had left of him.
Now, being here with him, seeing his face, hearing his laughter again, hearing him say her name, had eroded the wall she had built to keep him out, to make certain that he—that no one—ever came close to her heart again. But it was no use, she knew.
If anything, she thought as she sighed and punched her pillow, the past two days had taught her something she had suspected for years.
If love is deep enough, true enough, it never dies. No matter what
* * *
Chapter Nine
"What are we going to do today?" Evan pounced upon Cale from behind.
"There is nothing to do," Eric whined.
"Christmas is in two days." Evan counted on his fingers. "This is the worst Christmas ever."
"How do you figure that?" Cale asked.
"We're stuck in this dumb cabin. Santa Claus will never find us here." Eric's eyes widened at the realization.
The twins looked at each other in horror.
"No Christmas presents?" Evan whispered.
"We don't even have a tree," Eric moaned.
"I wish we'd never come here," Evan announced. "I want to go home."
"We want to go home," Eric repeated.
