"Whoa, slow down, Things," Dean said, stopping their forward motion with his long arms.
"But Momma says we can have cookies," one of them wailed plaintively.
"That's fine, but no running. Got me?" he admonished.
Both nodded their heads simultaneously before racing back down the hall.
"And save some cookies for me," he called after them.
"Were they running again?" his mom asked, stepping out from one of the doorways that lined the hallway. "I swear those girls only have one speed. So what do you think of my project. Is it too much?" she asked, indicating the walls.
"It's amazing," I answered truthfully before I could think about it. The words spilled out on their own accord. My social skills that had been stunted for so long were slowly emerging like a turtle would from his shell when he feels safe. What was it about these people? Why did I suddenly have the urge to trust them? Trust was a double-edged sword. It could give you hope, but it could cut you in an instant when it was broken.
Chapter Eleven
Dean and I were watching the Food Network in the family room when his dad got home an hour later.
Taking in his appearance, I was slightly apprehensive at his intimidating stature. He was easily taller than six feet with broad shoulders. His hair was grey at the temples giving him a distinguished look. I would have labeled him stuffy if not for the laugh lines around his eyes.
The twins came clamoring out of their playroom when they heard the front door open. They hit their father's legs like mini torpedoes. "Daddy!" They squealed happily as he tossed one after another in the air before giving them a bear hug. My heart wept as I watched him squat down in front of both of them, asking each of them about their days. He kept an arm firmly around each one as they talked over each other, filling him in on their every activity. I waited for him to get bored with their endless chatter. I waited for his eyes to glaze over with indifference, but neither of these things happened as he listened to them both attentively until they eventually ran out of steam.
"Where's your mom?" he asked.
"She's in the kitcen finising dinner," one of them lisped out.
"She is? It smells yummy. I'm thinking roast, right?" he said with a twinkle in his eyes as he finally turned toward us.
"You must be Madison," he said, approaching the couch where Dean and I had been perched.
"Yes, sir," I said self-consciously as he held his hand out to me. I'd grown accustomed to Dean's touch and was able to shake his mother's hand without much of a qualm, but touching another person of the opposite sex, especially one older than me made me break out in a cold sweat. The last time I'd let an older man touch me it had destroyed everything. My family, the church and my innocence were forever lost. My knees began to shake.
"Dad, how was your day?" Dean asked, stepping in to cover up my lapse. He shook his father's outstretched hand.
"It was work," his father said chuckling. "It's nice to meet you Madison," he added warmly.
"You too, sir," I said, embarrassed about my social faux pas. I was a freaking mess.
"Call me Tim. What's on the marquee tonight?" he asked Dean.
"I think the twins picked Toy Story 3 again, and Mom picked up the new bank heist movie for us once they go to bed."
"Excellent. A good action movie is the perfect way to round out the week. Don't you think, Madison?" he asked, winking at me.
"Yes, sir," I stuttered out like a moron.
"Tim," he reminded me as he headed for the kitchen.
Sarah met him in the archway and I watched as they embraced like they hadn't seen each other in a month. I glanced over at Dean to see if their affection was embarrassing him. I found his eyes on me instead of them. I felt myself flush at his look. Did he now understand why I didn't fit in?
He smiled at me reassuringly, lacing his fingers through mine. "You're doing fine," he whispered as we trailed behind his parents toward the dining room.
The twins were already seated at the table in their matching booster seats. Serving dishes loaded with food sat in the center of the table. The smell wafting from them was enticing and my mouth instantly started watering. On their best day, my frozen dinners never smelled half as good as the food resting on the table in front of me.
The meal went beyond any expectations I'd ever imagined a family dinner to go. The food was unbelievably good and the conversations were loud and punctuated with frequent laughter as the twins entertained us with their constant chatter.
Dean and I volunteered to clean the kitchen while his parents bathed the twins and put them in pajamas.
"You did it," Dean said, rinsing the last glass before adding it to the full dishwasher.