An Unexpected Father Page 2

  Catherine laughed softly under her breath as she shook her head. “Well, good luck with that,” she told Brady.

  He was going to need more than luck, Brady thought as he watched his mother leave.

  * * *

  For a time, after his mother had withdrawn from her baby-sitting duties, he went through a small army of nannies. Vetted by an agency, they came—and went—with a fair amount of regularity. Some of the nannies lasted for a couple of weeks, others lasted only for a couple of days.

  But they all had one thing in common. None of them lasted for long. Some left cryptic comments in their wake, others left in icy, stony silence.

  Like the other nannies who had left before her, the short, squat woman looked like the very epitome of the perfect nanny, but even Mildred McGinty felt as if she was outmatched.

  “I’ve been a professional nanny for twenty-seven years, Mr. Fortune, and I have never, never encountered such insufferable, rude, disrespectful children in all that time.” Mrs. McGinty drew herself up to appear taller than her actual 5′1″ height. “I believed I could put up with anything, but today was the absolute last straw. I caught those two demons—” she pointed a trembling finger in the general direction of the twins “—trying to toast marshmallows in the middle of the living room floor! Somehow, they found matches. If I hadn’t been there, your whole house could have burned down—and most likely would have!” she declared angrily just before she slammed the front door behind her, permanently storming out of Brady’s house.

  Well, that would explain the soot marks, Brady thought wearily, looking down at the telltale marks in the middle of the throw rug.

  Tyler was pulling on the edge of Brady’s jacket. “We’re sorry, Unca Brady,” the twin said, looking contrite—at least for the moment.

  “Yeah, we didn’t mean to set the rug on fire,” Toby piped up. Of the two overactive dynamos, Toby was the unofficial ringleader. “It just got in the way.”

  At least they knew enough to apologize, Brady thought. He knew he was grasping at straws, but straws, or pieces of them, were all he had.

  They weren’t malicious kids, he told himself, just really, really mischievous. Somehow, some way, that mischief needed to be tamed and contained, Brady decided in desperation.

  But how?

  He had been through an army of nannies, as well as sitters, and that clearly wasn’t working.

  Damn, but he needed help, Brady thought wearily. Big-time.

  And soon.

  And then suddenly, as if in a prophesy-like vision, he thought of Rambling Rose, the small Texas town he’d taken the twins to in January. At the time it was for his nephew’s first birthday celebration. His older brothers Adam and Kane had resettled there, and they couldn’t stop talking about how great the place was. They kept stressing how very family-oriented the town was.

  He had resisted buying into the idea of living there, although his brothers did their best to talk him into it. At the time he was happy living near their folks in Upstate New York, happy with his job and his lifestyle—but all that was quickly changing and truthfully, it wasn’t even his lifestyle any longer. Abject chaos had replaced what had once been his carefree existence, wiping out weekends spent with friends, watching sports and playing cards, not to mention dating. Nothing serious, but something he had looked forward to. Now there was no time for any of that.

  Now all he wanted, heaven help him, was some sort of peace and quiet—or at the very least the promise of peace and quiet. As a matter of fact, given everything that was currently going on, he had begun to feel that he was willing to sell his soul for that.

  Funny how things had a way of changing, Brady thought. His requirements had been a great deal different six months ago.

  All right, onward and upward, he told himself.

  Brady wondered just how surprised his family would be if he suddenly turned up with the twins in tow in the middle of the night.

  Chapter Two

  A month later and life in Texas still hadn’t gotten any easier, Brady thought, trying hard not to let it all get to him.

  Knowing he had to do something, Brady had uprooted the twins as well as himself from what was swiftly shaping up to be a hopelessly chaotic life and brought them to Rambling Rose. He felt that making the move during winter break from preschool was the best time to make the change. That way, everyone would be in downtime and the twins would have a chance to meet and get to know some of the kids in the area.

  There was only one problem with that. There was no “winter break” in Rambling Rose. That meant although he had promised the boys there would be kids for them to play with in this new town, at the moment, there weren’t any around. All the kids in town were attending school.

  “There’s no one to play with, Unca Brady,” Tyler lamented for what seemed like at least the tenth time that day.

  “Yeah, you said there were gonna be kids to play with. But there aren’t any,” Toby said in what could only be construed as an indignant manner.

  After being around the twins for these last six-plus months now, Brady had learned that this sort of whining could only get worse, not better. Not only that, but it was liable to continue for hours.

  Brady looked around at all the towering boxes that were lined up in almost every room. He had planned to make at least a decent dent in unpacking them today and putting some of the things away.

  But his sanity took precedent over neatness—and he was fighting to preserve the former.

  Knowing that all the kids were in school, desperate, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision.

  “Well, if the kids aren’t going to come to you, you’re going to go to the kids,” Brady declared. He could tell by the looks on their faces that the twins had no idea what he was talking about. It didn’t matter. He knew what he had to do.

  “Okay, boys, get ready. As soon as I find what I need to take with me, we’re leaving,” he told Toby and Tyler, thinking of the papers he needed to properly register the twins in school.

  In the scheme of things, this was far more important than finding the right cupboard to house the dishes or where to put the pots and pans.

  But it seemed that the twins apparently needed some convincing.

  “Where are we going, Unca Brady? Huh? Where?” Toby wanted to know, shifting from foot to foot as Brady plowed through several boxes, searching for the custody papers he knew the preschool would want.

  The papers wound up being housed in a red folder at the bottom of the third box. He had deliberately placed the custody papers in a red folder to make locating them easier. The only problem was that he’d forgotten which box he had placed the folder in.

  He supposed that he should be grateful that he hadn’t left the box back in New York, he told himself.

  “Where, where, where?” Toby continued to ask, reciting the single word over and over again like some sort of a mantra.

  “Preschool,” Brady answered. “I’m registering the two of you at preschool.”

  “But we already went to preschool,” Tyler told him. He drew himself up as if that was the end of the discussion. “We’re done.”

  “Oh no, you’re not. Not by a long shot,” Brady told the boys. “This is a new preschool.”

  Toby tilted his head, studying his guardian. “Is it like the old one?” he wanted to know.

  This could go either way, Brady thought, so mentally, he flipped a coin, took a chance and said, “Yes.”

  “Then we don’t wanna go,” Toby informed his beleaguered guardian.

  Brady pressed his lips together to suppress a few choice words he knew he could no longer utter in the company of children. Venting, even though it might make him feel better, was no longer permitted.

  “That’s where the kids are,” he told the twins.

  “Oh.”

  Momentarily stumped, Toby looked
at his brother, then motioned for Tyler to follow him to the corner and confer over this newest development.

  Reaching the private “conference” area, the twins lowered their voices, something that Brady wasn’t used to, considering their usual pitch was much higher. Glancing in his direction, the twins conferred with one another about the situation.

  Brady wanted to prod them along but something in his gut told him this was a necessary process to help cement the still-very-new tenuous relationship between the twins and him. So he waited.

  Finally, Toby raised his head and both boys looked up at their guardian. “Okay,” Toby declared. “We’ll go to preschool.”

  “Good choice,” Brady told them, silently adding, It’s also your only choice.

  He had no desire to strong-arm the twins, but he would if he had to. Toby and Tyler were definitely going to preschool whether they liked it or not. He preferred them liking it, but if worse came to worse, he knew what he had to do.

  * * *

  “So, boys, what do you think?” Brady asked the twins less than an hour later as they stood on the preschool grounds. He thought that this process might be made a little easier if the boys felt that they had some sort of say in the matter.

  “It’s big,” Tyler finally said as he looked around, his eyes huge with wonder.

  Brady picked up on the one twin’s awe. He didn’t want the boy to feel overwhelmed. “It won’t look so big once you get used to it.”

  Toby looked as if he was ready to begin exploring right then and there. He yanked on Brady’s hand. “Can we get used to it now, Unca Brady?” he wanted to know, pulling again, harder this time. “Can we, huh, can we?”

  Brady tightened his grip on both boys’ hands because he knew that Tyler would follow his twin’s lead and would begin pulling him in a minute. They weren’t strong, but their enthusiasm made them very difficult to manage.

  “Not yet,” Brady responded. “First we need to sign you up.”

  Toby’s face puckered up as he tried to understand. “What’s that?” he wanted to know.

  “That’s when they put your name on a sign,” Tyler explained.

  Uncertain, Toby turned toward Brady. “Is that what they do?”

  “Close enough,” Brady answered. He wasn’t about to waste any more time standing outside the preschool. He wanted to get the boys inside the building.

  Still holding onto each twin, he found himself grateful that Gord and Gina had only had twins and not triplets because he’d be out of hands.

  Mindful over every step he had to take, Brady carefully guided the boys, who were behaving more like squirming puppies than flesh-and-blood children, into the school’s registration office.

  The moment he walked in, Brady became instantly aware of the short, dour-looking woman seated at the registration desk.

  Harriet Ferguson, according to the nameplate on her desk, continued watching him as made his way over to her as he held on to each of the twins.

  “Ms. Ferguson?” he asked, knowing it was a needless question. The woman nodded. Taking a breath, Brady pushed on. “I’m Brady Fortune. I called earlier about registering Toby and Tyler here at your preschool.” He nodded toward the twins.

  There appeared to be no sign of any sort of recognition on the woman’s part.

  Instead, Ms. Ferguson shifted razor-sharp eyes to appraise the barely restrained twins. “I take it you don’t put much store in disciplining these two.” She pressed her lips together in disapproval. “I’m afraid that your sons might fare better someplace else—”

  There wasn’t so much as a touch of warmth in her voice, Brady realized. But he needed the boys to be accepted here. This was the only way he’d be able to work, to take care of all those errands that never seemed to end, to be sure he could provide all of the things the boys needed to grow up safe and healthy. And he really wanted the boys to make some friends their own age, too.

  Having nothing to lose, Brady decided to plunge in.

  “They’re not my sons,” he told the woman.

  Ms. Ferguson looked a little taken aback by that. “I don’t understand.” It was obvious that hadn’t been discussed. “Then why—”

  “I’m their guardian,” he told her, anticipating the woman’s question. “I’m afraid that their parents were rather lax when it came to discipline and instituting any sort of structure. Actually, until just recently,” Brady confessed, “Toby and Tyler had never even been inside a nursery school, much less attended one. Boys, stop it,” Brady cried, trying to get the twins to settle down until he could at least finish getting them registered.

  “Humph, I can readily believe that,” Ms. Ferguson said in a dismissive tone. “But as I started to say earlier—”

  Anticipating getting torpedoed out of the water, Brady quickly interjected, “It’s not just that these boys aren’t used to having a structured day—I’m afraid that they’re dealing with something far more serious.” Seeing that he had caught the woman’s attention, he pushed on. “Six months ago, they lost both their parents in a motorcycle accident. That’s why I have custody of them.

  “I’m not ashamed to say that this is all really new to me.” He laughed almost self-deprecatingly. “Six months ago I was living in upstate New York, managing a sporting goods store and dealing with adults practically on an exclusive basis. Now—”

  He raised his hands in a hapless fashion as he looked at the squirming boys.

  “I’m clearly out of my depth here, but I am trying,” he stressed. Brady looked at the woman, giving it his all as he exuded charm. “Will you help me, Ms. Ferguson? Will you register Toby and Tyler at your school so I can begin the process of getting these two boys to settle down a little?”

  “It’s Mrs. Ferguson,” the woman pointedly corrected him. “And yes, I will register them—provided you have all the necessary paperwork with you, of course,” she qualified.

  Brady pulled out the red folder he had brought with him. “I have everything all right here,” he assured the woman, placing the folder in front of Mrs. Ferguson on her desk.

  With short, almost regal movement, Mrs. Ferguson opened the folder and glanced through the pages that were contained there. She raised her hazel eyes to look at him when she was done.

  “Well, you’re organized. That’s a good first step,” she told him.

  Because Brady had brought everything he could possibly think of that might be even remotely be required, the process, mercifully, went rather quickly.

  Finished inputting all the information into the computer, Mrs. Ferguson rested her fingers on the keyboard and raised her eyes to look at his.

  “All right, Mr. Fortune, I need one last thing from you.” Her voice was almost pregnant with meaning.

  At this point Brady felt exhilarated and almost giddy. He had actually managed to get the twins registered—well, almost registered—and he was willing to do anything to reach the finish line.

  “What do you need?” he asked, then, still riding the wave of exhilaration, answered his own question. “A kidney? Because if you require a kidney, you’ve got it! Just name the hospital,” he told her.

  Mrs. Ferguson almost smiled, Brady observed. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Fortune, but no, a kidney won’t be necessary. But I will need a list of people who are authorized to pick up your twins if you’re not able to come.”

  That caught him off guard. He thought of his mother and the fact that she had thrown up her hands in the end. He didn’t want to put any undue burdens on his family. But in the end, he knew he had to comply with Mrs. Ferguson’s request, especially since, logically, if he was going to be working, he’d certainly need to ask his siblings for help.

  So he gave her the names of his brothers, Adam and Kane, who were living here in Rambling Rose, and whose children were enrolled at the same school. Adam’s one-year-old son, Larkin, was
in the day care program, and Kane had recently gotten engaged to Layla McCarthy whose two-year-old daughter, Erin, was in one of the older groups. Kane couldn’t wait to become Erin’s official dad, although he had obviously already taken the little girl into his heart.

  Maybe I should be asking Kane for parenting advice, Brady mused.

  Tired of being patient, not to mention quiet, Toby spoke up. “I wanna go play now,” he cried, tugging hard on Brady’s hand. “Are you done yet? Huh? Are you?” the boy wanted to know, all but ready to jump out of his skin if he didn’t do something soon.

  This was nothing new, Brady thought. But what was new was what Tyler said just as Toby pulled free.

  “I want to stay here with you,” the other twin told him.

  Tyler had caught him totally by surprise. Brady wasn’t prepared for that.

  Neither was he prepared to have the boy all but wrap himself around his leg, holding on for dear life as if he was hermetically sealed to it.

  Brady put a comforting hand on the boy’s head. “Hey, Ty, what’s up?”

  Tyler looked up at him wearing the most serious expression Brady could recall ever seeing on the twin’s face.

  “I don’t wanna leave you,” Tyler cried.

  In an instant, Toby was on his twin’s other side, tugging at his brother’s arm. “Yeah, you do,” he told Tyler. “We’re here to play!” he declared as if it was a battle cry.

  Torn, feeling suddenly helpless, Brady looked toward the unsmiling gatekeeper, silently asking Mrs. Ferguson for help.

  Mrs. Ferguson appeared to visibly soften right before his eyes.

  “The boys will be fine,” she assured him. “But in my opinion, you could definitely use some help.”

  Uh-oh, here it came. He knew that look, Brady thought. Mrs. Ferguson was about to recommend either a psychiatrist or a psychologist to help sort out this messy situation. Either way, he wasn’t interested. He didn’t need therapy. He needed help managing the twins. He needed help with his kids.