Gentle Love, Tough Soul

Chapter Three

Nancy pondered whether it was true that people always preferred their birth season over all other seasons as she filled the trough with hot mash for the hens. She was undoubtedly a child of winter having been born around the end of November, but could that alone account for her completely unexplained love of such a depressing season to others? It had been predicted to snow that morning, but she realized it would probably take a few days for it to get to them as she took in the clear sky and the frigid temperature. She had spent almost her entire childhood in the GreensVilles, with the exception of a brief period during her undergraduate years in Cornwell.

With a small sigh, she turned her back on the hens and made her way back to the home. The kitchen door was ajar, allowing her to hear the twins fighting fiercely.

She said, "Stop it you two," setting down the hens' bucket and removing her rubber boots before entering.

She had polished the dark red quarry tile floor earlier in the afternoon, and it was shining, but she grimaced slightly, knowing that it wouldn't stay clean for very long. Although the Old Lodge was a stunning home, she got tired of maintaining its cleanliness. Her friends advised her to replace the expensive quarry and parquet flooring with more labor-saving options since they required less upkeep and time, but even if she had wanted to, she just didn't have the extra cash.

"What is happening? You're meant to be completing your schoolwork,' she sternly told the quarreling pair of dark-haired kids seated at the wooden table.

The smaller of the two spoke up, raising her own mock-tragic, dark grey eyes to meet Ronnie's. "Ronnie pinched my ruler."

With eyes as dark and seductive as his sister's, her brother angrily shoved her with his elbow and declared, "Rachel, it's mine, not yours." He then fixed his attention on his mother's face.

With a small sigh, Nancy thought about how a mother of twins like hers needed the patience of Job and the wisdom of Solomon, among many other qualities, like having a spare pair of eyes, preferably in the back of one's skull.

"It is my ruler," Rachel cut in, not letting the argument end. "Observe that there is an R scratched in this corner."

She held up the ruler for Nancy to examine. "Yes, and it's mine," Ronnie angrily countered. "Ma, that's my ruler."

After a long and trying day that included a phone call from the bank manager bemoaning the meager amount of money in her account and a big bill from the gas board, Nancy felt as though the last of her precious tolerance was evaporating. "I've told you not to call me 'Ma'," she angrily rebuked her son.

"But you're called 'Ma' by Tristan."

"Because Ma is merely Tristan' stepmother," Rachel mockingly informed her brother. "She isn't really his mother."

"That's enough from the two of you," Nancy declared, feeling utterly frustrated and wondering what it was about her awful couple that occasionally gave her the impression that she was completely out of control in any circumstance involving them.

When they were two years old, Doctor Nottingham had labeled them as "hyperactive" because they had more than proven that the term "terrible twos" was accurate.

When they first started school, their first instructor had called them 'intelligent and lively.' Even though Nancy loved them, there were moments when she thought they had driven her to her breaking point.

Tristan' favorite term to describe them was 'perishing brats.'

"You two, get on with your homework," she sternly ordered. "Supper will be a little later than usual tonight because we have a new lodger arriving."

"A new lodger...does that mean that I can finally receive a new bike for Christmas?" Irrepressible Ronnie demanded. Even at nine years old, he understood the link between their income and the lodgers they had. Nancy gave a slight sigh and shook her head. She detested having to let them down, particularly over the holidays. They weren't very materialistic children overall, and they were good kids. After Jack's passing, maintaining the Lodge had been difficult. Though neither of them had anticipated his death to happen so quickly, they had both knew he was sick and would pass away. Also, it was unlikely that Jack realized the risk involved in placing his money in those shares from Australia.

Nancy pulled her hair out of her eyes and sighed slightly. She was resolved to do everything in her power to preserve the Old Lodge and saw no use in dwelling on the past. What was done was done. She was informed by friends that she was crazy, but they couldn't comprehend the loyalty that drove her to protect Tristan' inheritance. They were all unable to fully comprehend her relationship with her stepson. None of them were able to comprehend her sense of obligation and appreciation for Jack. Had it not been for him, she and the twins would have remained just three more figures; she would have remained just another single mother raising two illegitimate children. How in the world could she have found work with her little education? If Jack hadn't offered her the stability of marriage, how in the world would she have been able to provide for the twins and herself?

Naturally, they had discussed it. Before Nancy's grandma passed away, he had been a close friend of hers, and it was he who persuaded her to tell him the truth when she was, as the saying goes, 'in trouble.' His wife had passed after giving birth to Tristan, leaving him a widower for over five years at that point. He waited to tie the knot until he was forty, and Grace was the same age—possibly too old to have a child. He had carefully explained to her that their marriage did not need to involve physical connection, but rather one of convenience only. That had pleased Nancy, who shrank at the idea of sharing the embarrassing event that led to the twins' conception. Shame, of course, had arrived later, when she realized what she had done and asked herself, "When did I do this? Why not be honest with myself?"—after she had recovered enough from her massive hangover to allow the agony-filled flashbacks of memories to surface.

Initially, she had hesitated. He had assured her that the arrangement would not be totally one-sided, so how could she allow him to marry her and take on her obligations? He informed her that he was passing away due to a debilitating illness that would only get worse. What would happen to his son if he passed away before Tristan could become an adult? He had no family or close friends to entrust with the care of his only child, nor did Sheila have any. Nancy had changed her mind after realizing that she would be contributing to their relationship rather than just taking advantage of it.

He'd given her time to make the right decision, explaining to her that marrying him would prevent her from having any romantic relationships with males her own age, but all she'd done was shudder and tell him she didn't want any. She was certain, at eighteen, that she had learned everything there was to know about masculine s*x.

Ultimately, he did not survive as long as he had anticipated, passing away when Tristan was just five years old and the twins were six months old. Ever since, she had to fight to maintain the family and their property, primarily by housing summer guests.

A minimum two-week stay. She calculated numbers in her head and gave herself permission to feel a little relieved. That ought to be plenty to pay for the gas p*****t at the very least, and ideally leave some money for the rates the next year. Thankfully, Tristan had been intelligent enough to obtain that scholarship, but not with it. When Tristan was awarded a coveted scholarship to attend his father's former school, she was thrilled and proud. She had worked hard to get his first brand-new uniform because she didn't want him to have to endure the embarrassment of wearing someone else's hand-me-downs to his new school.

Both of the twins dark curly heads were attentively bent over school books, and she persuaded herself that it would be better to appreciate her blessings than to wallow in what could not be.

Even though they may be a pain at times, if their teachers were to be believed, the twins were intelligent and in good health.

Furthermore, they had a good relationship with Tristan and he with them. She had told them that Jack had not been their father as soon as they were old enough to comprehend. She was already dreading the day when they would finally ask about their missing parent's identity, even if they had not asked many questions thus far. How in the world could she address them? The reality? that she was just ignorant of? That their father was a man she'd met at a party when she was too inebriated to turn down his advances, and that when she woke up the next morning to discover herself in an unfamiliar bedroom with him, she was as shocked as she was incredulous.

But grimly, she reflected, not half as stricken as when she'd learned she was pregnant. All she had known was where to look. It wasn't as easy to get advice back then as it is now. After all, she had returned home to find her grandma gravely ill in the hospital, recuperating after a severe fall. She had finally broken down and admitted the truth while Jack was en route to deliver the news to her.

For her, Jack had been less of a husband and more like a father. He had, in many ways, been the father she had never had, the one the twins so sorely needed, she thought sadly, remembering some of their more daring antics. She busied herself at one end of the table while they worked at the other.

The unexpected call from Christopher had caught her off guard, so she had to go through the freezer to find something a little fancier than their usual food for their guest. She realized that they were actually luckier than most; the Lodge had a sizable kitchen garden that, although labor-intensive, gave them a year-round supply of fresh vegetables; additionally, there was the orchard where the hens ran and gave them free-range eggs. Additionally, she established a commercial relationship with the wife of a local farmer, to whom she provided bottled preserved fruit in return for milk, butter, and occasionally even a side of bacon. Overall, their situation was not too horrible; the kids were fed well, though occasionally she herself wished she had more money to pay for necessities like clothes and utilities.

"What are you preparing?""

Rachel looked up from her books, her wavy dark head studying her mother.

Though they didn't look alike, the twins were similar to each other like two peas in a pod. Not at all... Their father must be the one they emulated; that enigmatic person she recalled as little more than firm hands in the night and a sleek, dark head resting on the pillow in the icy, bitter morning light. His features were hard and rough even when he slept. He was older than she was, and his body was that of a man, while hers was still that of a girl.

Something trembled in her gut, and she tried to ignore the recollection and the searing feeling of guilt that usually came with it. She could comprehend him, at least somewhat. A girl who had made herself so easy to pick up and seduce? What man could resist? However, what kind of guy was he, this unidentified father of her offspring, to not have recognized that she had been merely a child herself? What kind of man was he to take a girl to his bed who was obviously inebriated, so inebriated that she didn't even know who she was with or what she was doing, that she had already lost her virginity before she realized what was happening? Furthermore, he had not treated her gently. Her physique bore the scars to attest to that. Days later, she was still in excruciating pain, and she could still clearly remember the shocked incredulity with which she had collected up her clothing that were all over the place and crept out of his room so early that not even the hotel personnel was awake.

Upon realizing that her university classmates were unaware of what had transpired, she was initially too glad to focus on the potential consequences of her actions. She'd attended the party with several of them in the first place, blindly sipping the "fruit punch" she'd been handed without even realizing what was in it until it was much too late. She remembered something vaguely about dancing with the man. of laughing as he cradled her against his body... of his mentioning that she will be departing with him... and even of not objecting when he pulled her outdoors into the dense darkness and away from her pals.

She distinctly recalled the man showing up, looking uncomfortable and formal in his dark business attire. She remembered that he had been drinking as well since she could smell it on his breath. Everything was a fog after she and him had left the house until a sudden, intense ache tore through her drunken ignorance and then, much, much later, the embarrassment of finding herself in bed with a stranger when she woke up in the morning, her body defiled.