Free Christmas At Copper Mountain (A Copper Mountain Christmas) by Jane Porter Page A

a hand over his jaw. “I will have to do something eventually. Just not ready yet. She’s known the kids since they were toddlers, and she knows her way around the place.”
    “So Maxine is like family to the twins.”
    He grimaced. “I wouldn’t say that. She doesn’t remember their birthday or talk much to them, but she’s familiar and I trust her. She won’t spoil the kids, but she won’t hurt them, and she’s honest to a fault. So I’ve put off making changes.” Brock looked at her, shrugging wearily. “As you can tell, I’m not a fan of change.”
    No, it didn’t sound like it, Harley thought.
    For a moment there was just silence and then she drew a quick breath. “Speaking of the kids... have you checked on them?”
    “No. Why?”
    “They’ve been in their rooms for hours.”
    “They’re supposed to be. I sent them to bed.”
    “I know, but they didn’t have much lunch as they were too eager to get back outside to play—”
    “If they’re hungry, that’s their problem, not mine.”
    Harley bit the inside of her lip.
    But he saw her face, could read her worry. “They’re in trouble. There have to be consequences for their actions,” he said.
    “I know, and I agree that there must be consequences, but I don’t think it’d hurt to talk to them, hear what they have to say. They’ve been gone for months and they only just got home.”
    “Then they should have made different decisions. They didn’t have to go to bed without dinner. They could have told me what they were doing when Molly got hurt, because I know they were up to something. Molly didn’t get hurt from a snowball fight. That was a cut next to her eye, a clean cut, with clean edges. Something made that cut and I want to know how it happened, and the kids know. But they’re not talking, so they’re in their room. End of story.”
    She nodded, wondering if now was when she should tell him what Paul and Lewis had told her, about the ax and the tree, but she didn’t want to get the kids in more trouble.
    “What’s wrong?” Brock asked. “You think I’m too hard on them?”
    The kettle whistled, saving her from immediately answering.
    She grabbed a pot holder and moved the shrieking kettle to a back burner. The kettle fell silent. “Would you like a cup?” she asked, motioning to the kettle.
    He shook his head. “But I am interested in your opinion. You’ve been here a few days with them now. Do you think I’m too hard on them?”
    She squeezed the pot holder. “I’m not the best person to ask.”
    “Because you don’t know kids?”
    “Because they’re your kids. I think you have to raise them according to your values.”
    “My brothers say I’m too hard on the twins, but they’re bachelors. They don’t know what it’s like to have a child, to be the only one responsible for a child, never mind suddenly becoming the only person responsible for two infants still just breastfeeding when their mom is killed.”
    Harley couldn’t imagine what it’d been like for him to bury his wife even as he had to become both mother and father to two babies. “Must have been awful,” she said quietly.

“It was hell.” His brow furrowed and he stared blindly across the kitchen, grief etched across his features. “Amy was such a good mom, too. She was such a natural... calm, and patient. Nothing flustered her.”
    “Good thing, considering you had twins.”
    “That was a surprise, but not a huge shock. Twins run in the Sheenan family, I have brothers who are twins—Troy and Trey—and my dad had brothers who were twins, but Amy and I were a little overwhelmed when Mack and Molly were born. They were small and needed round-the-clock feeding, and Molly had colic. She was so fussy.” He smiled ruefully. “She still is.”
    “But Mack was easy?”
    “Mack was born easy. He’d just sit there in his infant seat and chill while his sister wailed.” Brock shook his head. “Thank God Mack was so good-natured. I don’t