Chapter Thirteen
D etermined to keep his promise, in the following weeks Flynn often returned home by late afternoon to see his daughters and Ricky. He had hired six more employees to keep up with the growth of the business. Within little more than a month, their volume had quadrupled.
He had resolved to devote more time to the kids than to his software development business. And now it weighed on him that he had the responsibilities of both work and family. Due to Rosewood’s stagnant job market, the positions he had offered meant life-altering changes to his new employees. If he dropped the ball, it wasn’t just a financial loss for him; it could harm the people he’d hired, people who had placed their trust in him. He knew two had already purchased small homes, based on their new earnings. And Flynn couldn’t live with himself if they lost their homes due to his negligence.
Which put him squarely in the middle again.
But this afternoon, he’d been able to leave early, reaching the house just after four o’clock. He could hear the babble of young voices coming from the backyard. Cindy’s Rainbow kids. He couldn’t believe she was insisting on keeping both classes intact, but she said these emotionally scarred children needed her. Flynn had argued that she was stretching her energies in too many directions: Ricky, the triplets, the Rainbow kids. But Cindy wouldn’t budge.
Stepping through the French doors, he was appalled to see Mandy crying, sprawled out on the terrace, blood gushing from her mouth. With a cloth grasped in one hand, Cindy was holding the child’s head.
Fear had Flynn beside his daughter in mere seconds. “What happened?”
“The kids got a little rambunctious,” Cindy explained, pressing the cloth gently around Mandy’s mouth.
“Rambunctious?” he demanded. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They were running, Paul pushed her a little and she fell.”
Fury nearly blinded him; still Flynn reached for his daughter, intending to pick her up. “I knew something like this would happen.”
Cindy laid a restraining hand on his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Taking her to the hospital, of course!”
“Flynn, you’re overreacting. One of her teeth poked her lip when she fell. It’s not serious.”
He motioned to Mandy’s swollen mouth and the blood that had dripped on her T-shirt. “It looks pretty serious to me!”
“Flynn, have you ever seen one of the girls bleeding before?”
“No…Why?”
“Because the first time it’s terrifying. But trust me, she’s okay. We’ll put some ice on it to stop the swelling, and see, Mandy’s already stopped crying.”
Flynn studied his daughter’s face, seeing her tears had indeed stopped. “Still, better safe than sorry.”
Cindy kept her tone mild. “Taking her to the hospital would be pretty scary. And the bleeding’s almost stopped.”
But Flynn hadn’t spent his store of protective impulses. “I knew that letting them run around in jeans wasn’t a good idea.”
Cindy didn’t rise to the bait, instead widening her eyes in mild disbelief. “She’d still have fallen if she’d been wearing a dress. And then she’d also have scraped knees.”
“If you hadn’t insisted on bringing these ragamuffins into your house…” Flynn began, but the words trailed away as he watched her face transform to one of wounded incredulity.
“It’s good to know how you really feel,” she said in a tone that was as quiet as it was livid. “Before Ricky discovered it the hard way.”
Flynn wished he could bite back the words. “I didn’t mean him.”
“No? Then which particular ragamuffin were you referring to? They’re all either scarred emotionally or in desperate need of nurturing. Take your pick.”
Flynn passed a hand over his forehead, then glanced down at Mandy. “I think we’d better discuss this later.”
Cindy thrust the moist cloth at him. “Be sure to wrap the ice in this or it will burn her skin.”
“Cinny!” Mandy wailed when Cindy rose.
Flynn met Cindy’s determined gaze, then watched as her eyes closed briefly.
Then she held out a hand to Mandy. “Let’s go in the kitchen. We’ll show Daddy how to fix the boo-boo, okay?”
Trailing her, Flynn knew he’d been given one last reprieve. Glancing into the yard, and catching sight of sad-looking little Ricky, Flynn knew he had to make good on this final chance.
Cindy watched as the sun surrendered to the far horizon. It never ceased to her amaze her, this show the Lord provided them on a daily basis, its beauty never matched by even the most talented artists over the centuries.
Night sounds began as darkness tried to slip past twilight’s final barriers. It was that indeterminate time of day, not daylight, yet not dark. A calm time of day, Cindy always thought, one that bordered between the worries of day and the loneliness of night.
The sounds of crickets and baritone bullfrogs were equally comforting. She needed this sameness in her life. As much as she craved adventure, she was deeply rooted to this community, to the things in her life that had become so important.
Things Flynn Mallory would never understand.
She was glad the triplets were safely tucked in bed, the crisis over Mandy’s minor injury past. Having agreed to let Ricky lose himself with the PlayStation game in the sitting room off the kitchen, she kept track of the time, not wanting him to be left on his own. Flynn was in the house, but that wasn’t a particular comfort.
And to think she’d believed his offer to help with young Ricky. Then again, she had always believed her white knight would eventually find her, as well.
Hearing footsteps on the terrace, she turned, wondering if she’d miscalculated the time. To her surprise, Flynn and Ricky were walking outside together.
As she watched, Flynn was clearly not at ease, yet he sat with Ricky at the old wrought-iron table. From her spot deep in the back of the yard, Cindy couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see the look of concern on Flynn’s face, one that also seemed beset by some unknown pain. And again she wondered about the mystery who was Flynn Mallory.
She watched them for the next hour, sensing that Flynn was trying to draw out the boy. Ricky had been terribly quiet since he’d come to their home, his grieving a visible thing.
For days after the funeral, he’d hardly spoken. It had surprised Cindy when Flynn had attended Mrs. Dunn’s funeral with them. But he’d stood solidly beside Cindy and Ricky. And she was sure that the service had brought a wash of unwelcome memories, yet Flynn had remained stoic. Cindy had been the one to put Ricky on her lap, then comfort him through the painful service. But she had appreciated Flynn’s silent show of support.
She’d thought it meant he had a genuine change of heart, that perhaps her prayers were working. But then this afternoon…
Now she wondered again. Did Flynn have two sides that battled for dominance? One that shut out compassion, and one that offered it? Or was she still a lovesick girl who couldn’t get a grip on her own heart?
The questions haunted her for days as she watched Flynn with Ricky. First he’d brought home a soccer ball and net to practice kicking. Then he’d asked Cindy if he could sign the boy up for the soccer team. She’d commented that since it was late spring, there was only a month left of the sport. But that didn’t faze Flynn, who told her that they could sign up for Little League to fill the summer days.
It confused her in many ways. Because this wasn’t an instant bonding. In fact, the more Flynn offered to do for Ricky, the more tortured he appeared. Flynn’s appetite had lessened to the point that Cindy urged him to eat hamburgers and French fries, but he insisted he just wasn’t hungry. His face grew more gaunt. And each time when he thought no one was looking, he studied Ricky as though watching a ghost.
After this went on for two weeks Cindy decided it was time to confront Flynn. She chose the one time she knew they would be alone—as they traveled to the board meeting in Houston.
Although Cindy continued to love the sensation of flying in the small plane, this time she didn’t marvel about it. And she guessed that discussing Flynn’s past wouldn’t be wise while he was piloting the plane.
After the meeting concluded, Flynn asked where she wanted to have lunch. But a crowded restaurant wasn’t what Cindy had in mind.
“Why don’t we walk for a while?” she asked.
They strolled along the sidewalks, filled with rushing pedestrians. Cindy glanced up at Antioch Baptist, the city’s oldest black Protestant church. It sat between half a dozen mammoth structures, yet it wasn’t dwarfed by any of them, instead remaining the most beautiful building in the circular street’s crown. Its grace reinforced her resolve.
“Let’s head toward Sam Houston Park,” she suggested. “It’s just a block away.”
“Fine,” Flynn agreed.
The park was an oasis in the crowded city. Although bordered by towering skyscrapers, the park itself was tranquil, populated only by historic buildings from the state’s past that had been relocated to the one central spot.
A small store in the park, run by the Heritage Museum, sold sandwiches, chips, cookies and drinks. Flynn and Cindy purchased enough for a small, but substantial picnic.
Since it was nearly two o’clock, most of the downtown lunch crowd had dispersed. Cindy and Flynn found a bench that offered privacy.
She felt her nerves building as she waited to approach the subject. They were nearly finished with their sandwiches when she took the plunge. “Flynn?”
“Hmm?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
He seemed relaxed by the surroundings, and unaware of her nervousness. “Shoot.”
“It’s about Ricky.”
“What about him?”
She swallowed. “I’m wondering why you offered to help me with him.”
He hesitated, and for a moment she wondered if he would answer. When he did, his voice was hoarse. “He reminds me of my brother.”
Surprise nearly stilled her as well. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“I never talk about it. Todd died when he was six.”
“Ricky’s age,” Cindy murmured.
Flynn nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
This time his hesitation was much larger, less surmountable. “I don’t think you want to hear it and I certainly don’t want to dig back that far.”
Earnestly she met his gaze. “I do want to know. I need to know, to understand. And if it’s tormenting you this much, you need to talk about it.”
For a long time Flynn didn’t say anything, his eyes taking on a faraway expression. He gripped the remainder of his sandwich, unintentionally crushing it in his clenched hand.
And when he finally, reluctantly spoke, his voice was gruff. “My mother wasn’t like any of my friends’ mothers. She was always scattered in one direction or another, off on some new quest. I guess some people would call it an incurable zest for life. But it’s hard to see it like that when you’re a kid, watching out for your younger brother, and you find yourself standing in front of school, the rec center or the movies waiting for her, realizing she had forgotten about us. Oh, she always showed up eventually, apologizing, explaining she’d been caught up in one thing or another.” He laughed, a caustic, raw sound. “Something that interested her more than either Todd or me. Then she’d insist on buying ice cream cones or hot dogs to make it up to us. She’d laugh and cajole us into believing the makeup treat was far better than her timeliness. And it usually worked.”
Cindy swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat, dreading what was to come. “And then?” she prompted gently.
“I was nine years old. I had a bad case of chicken pox so I was confined to bed with calamine lotion and comic books.” Again Flynn hesitated, his jaw working. “Since I couldn’t go to school and watch out for Todd, I made sure Mom left on time to pick him up. But on the way she detoured to a flea market. I guess she only planned to stop for only a few minutes. But, as usual, the time escaped her. When she realized she was more than an hour late to pick up Todd, she sped off toward the school.” Flynn’s voice thickened. “But Todd had gotten tired of waiting and I wasn’t there to make sure he didn’t wander away.”
Bending his head, Flynn rubbed at his forehead. “It wasn’t too hard for Mom to find him. Flashing emergency lights lit up the street next to the school. Todd had walked in front of a car.” Flynn swallowed as he raised his head, again staring hard at the same faraway place. “He was killed instantly.”
Tears misted in Cindy’s eyes as she reached for Flynn’s empty hand. At first he didn’t respond, his own hand rigid. Then he glanced back at Cindy, seeing the tears roll silently down her cheeks. Unfurling his hand, he took Cindy’s. And the fragment of sandwich dropped unnoticed from the other.
“I’m so sorry, Flynn. That must have destroyed your family.”
“It was the beginning.”
Even more horrified, she gripped his hand more firmly. “The beginning?”
“Mom committed suicide the day after Todd’s funeral. She took a handful of pills that my dad didn’t know she’d gotten from the doctor…and never woke up.”
Anguish sliced through her and she couldn’t control the tears that continued wetting her cheeks. “Oh, Flynn. That must have been horrible for you.”
“My dad did his best, but he was never the same. For all that was wrong about my mother, I guess she was the love of his life. By the time I was nineteen, he died of grief, a broken man.”
Cindy couldn’t find words of sympathy that didn’t fall miles short of how she felt. Instead she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her tear-soaked cheek against his.
When they finally pulled away, Flynn looked at her with a bit of wonder. “I never even told Julia the whole story. She was already filled with so much of her own pain…well, it never seemed the right time.”
“I’m glad you told me,” she said softly, knowing it was true. “I remember when I first met you. Even though you were five years older than me, I remember thinking you seemed decades older in maturity. No wonder. You had to grow up when you were only nine.”
“I never thought about it that way.”
Cindy continued to hold his hand, offering her support. “It sounds as though even before Todd’s accident, you were older than your years, watching out for him. Then I suspect you watched out for your father after your mother’s death. That’s an incredible amount of responsibility for such a young child.”
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “If I hadn’t been home sick, if I’d been there for Todd—”
“Flynn! You were a small child yourself! And you couldn’t help having chicken pox! Surely you can’t have carried around that guilt all these years?”
“Some of it. Most of it rests on my mother’s shoulders. She should have behaved like a responsible adult. Instead she valued fun more than her family. And look what happened. It destroyed everyone but me.”
Cindy chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s destroying you, too, bit by bit. Don’t you see that, Flynn? You’ve carried this burden alone for too many years.”
“And who do you suggest I give it to?” he asked bitterly. “I doubt there are many pack mules looking to take it on.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need the Lord to lean upon, to help you carry your pain.”
“The same God that turned His back on us? Where was He when Todd was hit by that car? And when my mother swallowed a bottle of pills? And my father died of a broken heart? Where was He then, Cindy?”
But she knew that she didn’t have the answers that he needed. Only the Lord did. And now she was even more uncertain whether Flynn could ever accept Him again.
Chapter Fourteen
A week later Flynn was hammering a backboard onto the pole he’d had installed beneath the large oak when he heard a car pull up. He glanced over to see who it was.
Noah Brady, dressed in an impeccable tux, stepped out of the sleek Porsche. Cindy had told him she would be out for the evening. She’d failed to mention it would be with Noah.
An untenable kernel of jealousy knotted his stomach, and Flynn turned back to the pole.
“Planning on a little basketball?” Noah asked as he approached.
Flynn shrugged. “The kids should like it.”
“Yep. Hey, why don’t you join the church team? We could use a decent player.”
“I’m not much into church stuff.”
Noah nodded. “Fair enough. But the invitation’s open. We want to make you feel welcome.”
“Because of Cindy?” Flynn asked tightly.
“Sure. We like to keep her happy.”
“I bet you do,” Flynn muttered beneath his breath.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”
“Nothing.” Flynn drove the final nail into the backboard. “Come on inside. I’ll see if Cindy’s ready.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to be late.”
Flynn looked up and down Noah’s formal wear. “Little early for going out on the town, isn’t it?”
Noah laughed. “Good one.”
Flynn had no idea what the other man meant by that, but led him inside anyway, by way of the back door.
His daughters were grouped around the table, Ricky keeping an eye on them. Flynn wanted the basketball hoop to be a surprise, so he’d invented an excuse for Ricky to watch the girls.
The triplets squealed with delight as they spotted Noah, begging for him to play the piano.
“Now this is the ideal audience,” Noah replied with a wide grin. Then he glanced at Flynn. “Do you mind?”
Hiding his thoughts, Flynn shook his head. “No, go ahead.” Quickly he stabbed the button on the intercom. “Cindy, Noah’s here.”
“Thanks!” she replied cheerily.
His good mood out the window, Flynn helped Ricky clean up the mess the girls had made with their watercolors.
“Are you mad?” Ricky asked.
Flynn withheld a sigh, immediately regretting causing the child more concern. “No. Just have a lot on my mind. You know, I was thinking a basketball hoop might be kind of fun.”
Ricky’s always saddened face lit up a little. “Really?”
“Yeah. But I’d need someone to help me put it up.”
“I could do that!” Ricky offered eagerly.
“Hmm.” Flynn pretended to consider. “I guess you could. Why don’t we head out to the driveway and take a look?”
Once outside, Flynn walked companionably with Ricky, waiting to see his reaction.
Ricky stopped suddenly, his eyes growing wide and round. “Wow!”
“You like it?”
“It’s swell!” Then he turned to Flynn, his six-year-old eyes far too wise. “You don’t need my help.”
“Sure do. The pole’s set. But I need help hanging the hoop.”
Ricky brightened as Flynn took the ladder from the tree he’d leaned it upon.
“I tacked up the backboard,” Flynn explained. “But we need to center the hoop.”
“Cool!” Ricky exclaimed.
Originally he’d offered to help Ricky because of the guilt he still felt over Todd. He’d never considered that the child would come to tread on his heart, as well. Yet the connection remained painful, as though each step closer picked at the wound that was his past.
But today, standing beside the young boy who looked up at him with something nearing hero worship, another barricade tore loose.
Picking Ricky up, he sat him on his shoulders. “Okay, you center the hoop.”
“By myself?” Ricky asked excitedly.
“Sure. When you get it in the center, we’ll mark the spot with this thick pencil.”
“Okay.” Screwing his face into lines of concentration, Ricky carefully centered the hoop.
Flynn handed him the carpenter’s pencil and the boy made two marks as Flynn instructed him.
They turned, Ricky still on his shoulders, just as Cindy and Noah stepped out of the house. She was dressed in a gold sequinned evening gown. With her silky red hair streaming down her back, she looked like a gorgeous flame.
And Flynn felt an invisible fist to the gut.
Noah took Cindy’s elbow, guiding her down the sidewalk. Again, she looked relaxed, happy. No angst, no uncertainty.
Nothing as she looked when they were together.
Glancing up, she spotted them.
Ricky waved.
Cindy lifted her arm, as well, studying Flynn and Ricky.
“See you later!” Ricky called out.
“Yeah, have a great time,” Flynn managed with notably less enthusiasm.
She nodded. “Thanks. I will.”
Flynn watched as she got into the car, then as Noah pulled away.
“She looks pretty, huh?” Ricky asked.
Flynn swallowed. “She sure does.”
“She’s nice like Mommy,” Ricky added quietly.
Flynn lifted him down from his shoulders. “She is?”
“Yeah. To the triples, too,” he replied, using his own version of triplets, a word he couldn’t quite conquer. “I thought they were her babies at first.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. Excepted I knew they didn’t always live here.”
The world through a child’s clear vision, Flynn realized. A rare and remarkable gift. “She loves them a lot,” Flynn admitted aloud.
“Cindy makes us feel special,” Ricky said. “Even Heather, and she hates everybody.”
Flynn felt an unexpected smile emerge. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. She used to do mean stuff before we had Rainbow class. Our Sunday school teacher said she couldn’t come back never.”
But Cindy had rescued that unlovable child. He had been a fool, Flynn realized. Purposely not seeing Cindy’s depth and caring, her commitment to a group of children who had no one else to be concerned for them.
The fact was that she still drew him as she had the first moment he’d seen her.
But Julia had been safer. She hadn’t threatened a true hold on his heart. And Cindy had held just such a promise in her eyes. One he guessed had been like the jolt his own father had felt when meeting his mother. A love that took precedence over everything else. One he’d been fleeing since the day Todd had been killed.
Flynn stared down the now-empty street. But this time he had run straight into that phenomenal and rare love. And she’d just driven off with another man.
Nearly four weeks later, Cindy hummed softly under her breath as she checked on the waffles she was preparing for Flynn’s birthday breakfast.
In the past weeks she had pumped the girls, finding out his favorite breakfast foods. She’d listed all the traditional items, knowing he would prefer them to her buckwheat pancakes or granola and berries. Between the girls, they had remembered waffles, sausages and orange juice. Cindy had purchased regular syrup, and creamy butter, as well. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to prepare traditional food, she simply preferred healthy eating.
She added a freshly cut early summer rose to the tray. Covered by her finest linen, silver, crystal and dinnerware, it looked especially appealing, she decided. Seeing the light go out on the waffle iron, she placed the waffles on the plate in a matching diagonal fashion. The sausages and juice were already on the tray.
Cindy turned to the kids. “Okay, guys, do you have everything?”
“Yes,” they chorused, barely able to contain their excitement.
They trooped upstairs, but Cindy paused as she reached Flynn’s doorway, her nerves clicking into overdrive. She’d never before entered his territory. It didn’t matter that it was her house. This was still his room.
Heart pounding, she pushed open the door. From behind and around her, the kids shouted, “Happy birthday.”
Flynn’s sleep-tousled head popped up. He stared at them in surprise.
Then to Cindy’s relief, he grinned.
Still nervous, she approached the bed, offering the tray.
Accepting it, he glanced at the contents, then up at her in amazement. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Her eyes brightened despite her anxiety. “You were born.”
He smiled. “Waffles and sausages?”
“We told Cinny you liked ’em,” Beth offered.
“And orange juice,” Mandy added.
“We have another surprise,” Cindy added, motioning to the kids.
They scampered out to the hall, returning quickly, carrying musical instruments. Although Ricky didn’t really play one, Cindy had found a tambourine for him.
“You going to serenade me, as well?” Flynn asked in pleased surprise.
Cindy picked up her own mandolin that Ricky had fetched from the hall. On her signal, they began to play. Flynn continued smiling, but his eyes widened when the girls’ sweet voices added the words “I’m so glad you’re my daddy.”
Even Ricky sang along, and Cindy saw Flynn’s jaw work.
When the song ended, Flynn set the tray on one side of the bed, reaching out to hug his daughters and Ricky. His voice when he spoke was gruff. “Thank you. That was the best birthday present I ever got.”
“We boughted more stuff for you!” Beth revealed.
“And wrapped it all up,” Mandy added.
Alice smiled sweetly. “It’s surprises.”
Flynn lifted his eyes, meeting Cindy’s. “I don’t think I need any more surprises. This was the best.”
And her heart weakened, as the hold he held on it strengthened. Pulling her gaze from his, she glanced down at the children. “Okay, you want to go get the presents?”
They clapped and squealed in agreement, scampering away.
Flynn looked at the carefully prepared tray. “How did you possibly know all my favorites?”
Despite the tug-of-war in her heart, she grinned. “Some little fairies told me. You have to be careful. These little fairies are encyclopedias of information.”
He returned her grin. “Even better than the Internet.”
Their gazes met and lingered, the grins giving way to something else.
“Thank you,” Flynn told her quietly.
It seemed to Cindy that the words resonated beyond what they appeared on the surface. She knew her own did. “You’re welcome.”
“Look, Daddy!” Beth hollered, skidding into the room. “Presents!” She dumped her own awkwardly wrapped gift on his bed.
The other children followed, piling presents on the bed.
Flynn picked up Beth’s, using great care to open the clumsily assembled package. He held up a T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of Donald Duck.
“I picked it!” Beth exclaimed.
Amused, Flynn lifted his gaze to meet Cindy’s. “Really?”
“She had a hard time choosing between that one and Winnie the Pooh,” Cindy explained, unable to hide her own smile.
Flynn hugged his daughter. “Well, this is the one I would have picked, too. It’s perfect. Thank you, Beth.”
Pleased, Beth grinned as Flynn opened the next one, which was from Alice.
“Oh, this is great,” he replied, holding up a huge chocolate bar.
“You like it?” Alice asked.
He hugged her, as well. “It’s almost as sweet as you.”
“Mine now,” Mandy demanded.
Obliging, Flynn unwrapped two coloring books and a huge box of crayons. He glanced between Mandy and Cindy, clearly trying not to sound either puzzled or amused. “Wow.”
“We can color together,” Mandy told him, beaming at the prospect.
“So we can.” A third hug was dispensed. “What a great idea.”
Ricky shyly pushed forward his present next.
“I’m getting pretty overwhelmed,” Flynn admitted.
He was, Cindy realized.
Flynn unwrapped the present, revealing a baseball cap.
“It’s got the Rangers on it,” Ricky explained. “Your favorite.”
Flynn’s throat worked. “You’re right. They are my favorites. Thanks.” More awkwardly this time, Flynn offered Ricky a hug, as well.
Cindy’s own emotions tumbled as she watched them, thinking how perfect they looked together.
“Yours now!” Beth told her.
“Oh, yes.” Cindy handed him a small, neatly wrapped box.
His gaze touched hers. Then he opened the gift, unfolding the tissue that was tucked inside, then lifting up the present. He held up a framed portrait of the triplets. They were wearing dresses Flynn had chosen for them, a triple play of perfection.
“How?” he asked in wonder. “When?”
“I have my ways,” Cindy replied. “We snuck off when you weren’t looking.”
“It’s wonderful,” Flynn said softly. “Really wonderful.”
“There’s something else in the box,” she told him.
He dug beneath another layer of tissue, uncovering a second framed picture. Again his throat worked as he turned it around to show the others the picture of a shyly smiling Ricky.
The girls clapped and Ricky stubbed the toe of his tennis shoe into the thick rug, his pleasure overshadowing his timidity.
“You really are a magician,” Flynn said finally.
And his hold on her heart gripped even tighter.
Chapter Fifteen
“W hat are you guys doing here?” Flynn asked, looking up from his work to the crowd standing in his doorway.
Cindy touched the glass block wall that separated Flynn’s office from a large working area, one that had half walls of the same material to give each employee a degree of privacy. “This place looks great! Michael did a wonderful job on the remodeling. Looks kind of retro.
“To answer your question—I’ve got a scheduling conflict,” she explained ruefully. “Katherine’s booked solid and I’ve called everyone else I know. I can’t find a sitter, so…”
Flynn glanced down at his daughters’ expectant faces. “Oh, sure. I’ll find something to keep them busy.”
Ricky held up a canvas tote bag. “We brought markers and Play-Doh and blocks.”
Cindy raised up a second bag. “And snacks and juice.”
Flynn wriggled his brows at the children. “I don’t know. We might just get crazy, bust out of here and get some pizza.”
But Cindy only grinned. “Great. Give them plenty of sugar, too, because you’ll be in charge of naptime, as well.”
“You must have a long date planned,” Flynn probed in what he hoped was a casual voice.
“Actually, it’s a photo session. Can you believe it? Noah says someone caught our act, and he actually thinks we can promote the band.”
Flynn caught only one word at first—Noah. So that’s who she’d ditched the children for. Then he shook his head. “What did you say?”
“I know. It doesn’t seem possible. But apparently some people from Dallas were at our last gig and really liked the sound. Personally, I don’t want the travel involved in band commitments that far away, but I don’t mind posing for the publicity pictures. Noah can always replace me if he decides to get that cosmopolitan.”
“Band?” Flynn managed to spit out.
She cocked her head, drawing her brows together in a puzzled manner. “You know, the one Noah and I play in. The one that came to the girls’ party.”
“You weren’t in the band that day,” he replied, still not grasping her explanation.
Cindy looked faintly exasperated. “No, I was a little busy with the party and being the clown. Why?”
Flynn cleared his throat. “How often do you play in this band?”
She shrugged. “I never kept track of exactly how often. But you’ve seen me dressed in costume when Noah picks me up for a performance. It’s not like Rosewood has enough proms, parties and anniversaries to keep us busy every day. To be truthful, since you and the girls moved here, I’ve cut back on my participation a lot. Noah’s real understanding about it.” She laughed. “He only pleads when he can’t find a backup player and singer.”
“Doesn’t that intrude on your relationship?” Flynn asked, pushing the envy from his voice with great effort.
She blinked. “Our friendship’s fine. As I said, Noah’s very understanding. I guess it comes from being a doctor. He has to back out on so many social commitments because of emergencies that it’s hard for him to even find time to date. I think that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
Buzzers and whistles clamored so loudly in Flynn’s head, he wondered if he’d imagined her reply. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
Expression sad, Cindy shook her head. “No. And I think he’s lonely even though he’s so busy. You know what I mean?”
Flynn knew exactly what she meant. The longing for that one special person to be in your arms, the need for a true partner. The feeling maybe it would never be possible. At least…not until now.
“Flynn?” Cindy asked, her eyes puzzled again.
“Right. Yeah, I do know what you mean. So, what are you doing after the photo shoot?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. We don’t have a gig tonight.”
“But you have to dress up for the pictures?”
She rolled her eyes. “Full tilt. That’s why my dress is in the car. I’d look a little ridiculous driving around in the middle of the day dressed in an evening gown.”
Flynn studied her face, the sparkle in her eyes. “Does seem like a shame to get all dressed up, then have nowhere to go. Do you think we can find a place here in Rosewood to do it justice? If I can locate a baby-sitter.”
Clearly taken aback, she stuttered at first. “We-well I guess so. There’s a little Italian restaurant with a dance floor that’s only a little bigger than a half dollar, but it’s dressy for Rosewood.”
“Then it’s a date?”
She flushed, not a gentle warming, but a wave of red. “A date?”
“You know that thing where two people go out—” he lowered his voice to a mock whisper “—without the kids.”
Cindy looked at the kids’ intrigued faces, then back to Flynn. “Uh, okay. Sure.”
“Don’t get too carried away with your enthusiasm.”
She backed out of the doorway. “No, of course not.” She bumped into a chair, then muttered, “Sorry.”
Flynn’s brows rose and even the children studied her curiously.
“I’d better be going,” Cindy told him fervently.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight,” she agreed, bumping into another chair, muttering a second apology to the inanimate object.
Flynn watched as she left, marveling at how even her haste was animated.
Beth reached up, tugging on his hand. “What do we do now?”
What indeed?
Nervously Cindy checked her hair, which she’d partially swept up. The insistent curl in its texture escaped to frame her face. Hair okay, she decided, turning to look in the cheval mirror, checking her dress again.
It was ridiculous. She hadn’t primped this much for the stupid photo shoot. Picking up the petite gold purse that matched her dress, she reluctantly headed downstairs.
It’s just dinner. Dinner with the man you’ve been in love with for years. Put the brakes on, she chastised herself. He’s the man you can’t even consider sharing a future with.
Halfway down the stairs, she caught sight of Flynn, pacing in the foyer. She had seen him dressed in suits before, but the one he’d chosen for tonight was of a European cut, adding another layer of sophistication.
She guessed all the female heads in the small restaurant would positively crane in his direction. Willing her nerves to settle, she traveled down the last few steps.
Hearing her, Flynn spun around, then stopped as quickly. “I was right. You do look like a flame.”
Pleased, embarrassed, nearly thrilled, Cindy ducked her head. “Flatterer.”
He took a few steps closer. “Just telling the truth.”
The nerves in her stomach were rattling her brains. “Well, should we go?”
He picked up a solitary rose from the hall table and extended the flower.
“It’s nearly gold,” she marveled, seeing that its deep yellow petals almost matched the dress.
“I was hoping you’d wear the gold. It suits you.”
She bit her bottom lip. “A flame that flickers?”
“And warms everyone in its proximity.”
Beyond flattered and touched, she could merely stare.
But Flynn took her elbow, escorting her to the door.
Once inside the car, she stole a look at him. “Tell me how you convinced Michael to watch the kids tonight.”
Flynn’s expression grew rueful. “I promised to play on their softball team the rest of the summer.”
“Oh, I see. True blackmail.”
Flynn chuckled. “I thought it was worth the sacrifice.”
Cindy averted her head, staring out the window. “How’s the construction coming on your house?”
“It’s close to being finished. I checked the site today.”
“That’s good,” she replied, thinking it wouldn’t be long now. Flynn would move his daughters to their new home and her relationship with them would never be quite the same.
It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant. Despite the fact that it was Rosewood’s most elegant restaurant, Flynn and Cindy’s attire still drew glances.
“Do you suppose they’ll believe we just came from the prom?” Flynn whispered.
She grinned. “I don’t think I can pass for eighteen even in my wildest dreams.”
He leaned forward, barely touching one of the runaway curls that brushed her cheek. “I don’t know. I think I’d buy it.”
“Your table’s ready,” the hostess announced.
Shaken, Cindy was grateful for the reprieve.
Once their order was taken, Flynn glanced at the small quartet that provided the background music. “Would you like to dance?”
That sounded entirely too dangerous. “Oh, I don’t think so. With these fancy outfits we’d probably be awfully conspicuous.”
Flynn leaned back in his chair. “You know, Cindy, you never told me why you really moved to Rosewood. If you were running to someone…or away from someone.”
And this was even more dangerous. “Who cares if they think we look like escapees from our senior, senior prom?” She stood abruptly. “So, you still want to dance?”
He stood, as well, extending his hand.
Accepting it, Cindy felt the connection the moment her hand touched his. But when he took her in his arms, her heart cratered. She’d dreamed of this moment, longed for it, despaired of it ever happening.
But in her dreams, he wasn’t meant to be kept at arm’s length. Still, she allowed him to lead her around the dance floor, to feel for this solitary moment how it would be to spend all time with him.
She felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek, the texture of his hair, the strength of his hands and arms, the structure of his tall frame. And for that moment, she let her imagination wander, to envision a future with him.
The music slowed to a halt, its progression matching her hopes. She declined a second dance, instead suggesting they order.
“Is something wrong?” Flynn asked when she continued to be unusually quiet.
She shook her head. “Just thinking.”
“Do you want to share your thoughts?”
Cindy searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the puzzlement. And for another moment she didn’t want to ruin this exceptional evening. She lifted her glass. “Why don’t we just enjoy our dinner?”
His expression wavered, then he nodded.
The food came, warm and fragrant. They tasted the homemade linguini, the sauce pungent with fresh tomatoes and basil. Yet, there was more food than conversation.
“It’s not quite the same as on the Riverwalk,” Flynn mused.
Her gaze met his, that remembered moment stretching between them, begging to be felt again.
“No,” she agreed at last. “That was unique…a rare time.”
After declining dessert, Flynn suggested they walk along Main Street, a leftover from the previous century with its old false-fronted buildings.
The summer breeze teased the branches of the tall, ancient trees that lined the street, their branches stretching out to meet in the middle of the road. During the day they provided shady relief; at night they seemed to shelter.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” Cindy remarked, pulling her antique silk shawl closer.
Flynn stopped, turning to her. “Not as beautiful as you.” He leaned toward her.
For one brief and dazzling moment she considered letting herself fall into the kiss he offered…into all the romantic fantasies she’d ever had of this moment.
But the pleasure of the kiss would also be like a bruise to her soul. Knowing that, she pulled back, brushing him away. “Please…don’t.”
He stared at her. “Are you telling me I’ve misread the signals? That there wasn’t something between us that evening in San Antonio? That there isn’t something between us now?”
She shook her head, starting to turn away.
But he caught her elbow. “Then why are you rejecting me?”
“Let’s stop now,” she pleaded, knowing his three children would always remain a connection between them, one that might not take the damage of the truth.
“Why?” Flynn demanded. “Why should I stop?”
“Don’t do this,” she begged again.
“Look at me, Cindy. Tell me you aren’t feeling like I do. That you don’t want to take our relationship to this next step.”
Her lips trembled with the force of holding in the truth. “I can’t tell you those things because they aren’t true.” She lifted her gaze, willing her heart to settle long enough to spit out what she must. “But it’s not that easy.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
She swallowed. “I cannot love a man who doesn’t share my faith.”
“Do you want me to lie?” he asked bluntly.
Her heart fractured with pain. “That would only be worse. I can’t live a falsehood, and I can’t accept anything less than a man of equal beliefs. I’m sorry, Flynn.”
“And that’s it?” he asked in disbelief.
She hesitated, remembering her recent prayers for guidance. “Perhaps it’s not impossible, if you’re willing to try.”
He scowled. “In what way?”
She ducked her head, afraid to see the anger she knew was coming. “Maybe by revisiting the past.”
His snort conveyed anger and more. “That’s not a trip I ever want to take again.”
Knowing his reaction was born of pain, she caught his hand, leading him to a bench that curved around a large oak tree in the sidewalk. “I know this is hard for you, Flynn.” She met his eyes, willing him to understand. “We’ve both suffered loss. It hurts, even when you’ve pushed it to the back of your mind. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me…about your past.”
He started to pull his hand away, but Cindy held it that much more firmly.
“Flynn, have you ever considered that perhaps your mother took her life because she was consumed with guilt over Todd?” Cindy gentled her voice even further. “Maybe she was afraid that she would cause a similar fate for you. Perhaps it was less of an abandonment, rather a sacrifice.” Cindy tightened her grasp on his hand. “Oh, Flynn think how anguished she must have been, the fact that she couldn’t have been thinking clearly, rather responding to the love she felt for her sons.”
He was quiet, absently rubbing his thumb over her fingers. “She just left. She let Todd get killed, then she died.”
“From a nine-year-old perspective,” Cindy reminded him quietly. “You’re a parent, now. Imagine how you would feel if your negligence cost the life of one of your daughters. Do you suppose you’d be thinking straight? Making responsible decisions?”
“She never was responsible,” Flynn replied, the old bitterness seeping out, bit by bit. He lifted his head, meeting Cindy’s eyes. “That’s why I chose Julia, you know. She was nothing like my mother. I was sure she’d be stable, secure, always there.”
“And even that collapsed when she died,” Cindy replied, clamping down on her own pain. Flynn had chosen the right sister. Julia was everything he needed, everything she wasn’t. Yet, Cindy knew she couldn’t put her own feelings ahead of his crisis of faith. “Flynn, I think the pain you feel from losing your brother…your entire family will always haunt you. I’m no Pollyanna. I know the past can’t just be erased. But you can put what happened into perspective.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” he replied dully.
“There’s one way…Forgive your mother.”
Anguished, Flynn stared at her. “How can I possibly forgive her?”
Cindy swallowed, knowing how difficult the next words would be for him to hear. “By reconnecting with the Lord.”
“That’s impossible!” he railed, pulling away from her. “You don’t know what you’re asking!”
“I’ve had an equal share of loss, Flynn. Both my parents, my only sister. But my bond with the Lord is even stronger than ever before.”
“How can I hope to forgive? To reconstruct a faith lost in childhood?
“Through prayer.” Cindy met his eyes, her own bright with unshed tears. “Just a few simple words…ones from your soul.”
But Flynn only stared ahead.
Cindy didn’t know if he’d even heard her, if the words had simply washed over him like the fingers of moonlight stabbing through the overhanging branches. Or if he’d already cast them aside.
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