Chapter Sixteen
F lynn accepted the baseball glove, tucking it into his gym bag. He and Michael Carlson were the last ones left on the practice field.
“Something wrong?” Michael asked quietly.
Distracted, Flynn cleared his thoughts, then shook his head. “Not really.”
“That was said with a distinct lack of conviction,” Michael noted.
Shrugging, Flynn zipped up the bag. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Want to talk about it?”
For several long moments, Flynn contemplated the problem, the issue of sharing it. “I doubt it’s something you can help with.”
“Try me.”
So Flynn explained his recent discussion with Cindy, briefly outlining why he’d lost his faith initially.
But the other man surprised him. Michael looked neither shocked nor displeased. And he didn’t directly address the faith issue. “Do you still think Cindy’s as flighty as your mother was?”
“No. I think I’ve finally taken off my blinders. Cindy…” Flynn chuckled. “Well, you know how she is. You pointed it out yourself.” Flynn’s quiet laugh turned into a contemplative sigh. “But I couldn’t see it then—my past was getting in the way. I’ve never known anyone like her before. She’s caring, compassionate. She has so much energy, it’s like being around a constant whirlwind, yet at the same time…” Flynn glanced up sheepishly. “Guess it’s my turn for the Oprah segment.”
But Michael only shook his head. “Nah. You’ve just gotten tangled up with a wildcat. And I mean that only in a good way.”
“Yeah,” Flynn agreed. “The rare combination of brains, personality, heart and spunk.”
Michael studied him. “So, are you ready to try what she’s asked?”
“I’m not so sure.”
“That’s how I felt,” Michael confided.
“You?”
Michael grinned. “Being married to a minister doesn’t make me a saint.”
Flynn raised his eyebrows.
“Before I met Katherine, my wife, Ruth, died. When she got sick I prayed, my family prayed, the whole congregation prayed. But she still died. And I couldn’t get past the fact that the Lord had let that happen. Ruth was a good person, fair, kind, always looking out for everyone else. I just assumed that meant He was looking out for her. And nothing anybody said or did could change how I felt.”
“But you go to church now.”
Michael smiled. “It’s more than attendance for me. I’ve regained my faith, but it wasn’t easy. The journey back was even more painful than losing Ruth. If it weren’t for Katherine, I’d still be stumbling in the dark.” He shrugged. “Since I’m back on the right path, everything is right with my life. I have a beautiful wife, a new son, my other children are happy.” Michael met Flynn’s eyes. “And that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”
“You’re so sure?”
“I don’t have a single doubt.”
Flynn nodded. “Thanks.”
“Now you just have one more talk.”
“With who?”
Michael looked at him pointedly.
“Oh, the prayer thing.”
“Yeah. I’ll clear out.” Michael started to turn away, then glanced back. “You won’t regret it, Flynn. I’m sure of it.”
Flynn watched as Michael walked away, the field suddenly empty. The hottest part of the day was past, the sun past the day’s prime. The air was still; not even the barest breeze stirred the dry grass or the dusty pitcher’s mound.
It was rare for him to be this alone, Flynn realized. There was something oddly revealing about the solitude. It was more difficult to make excuses…to hang on to anger from a past era.
Tilting his head backward, Flynn studied the graying sky. And he wondered. Could Cindy and Flynn be right? Was it only a matter of words?
For an interminable time, Flynn considered and rejected a thousand beginnings. He started, stopped, then started again. Finally the prayer stumbled out…fumbling, unpoetic words. But they were from his heart. Briefly he closed his eyes, wondering if he spoke to an empty field, an empty sky.
Then a warmth he hadn’t known since childhood filled his heart. Again Flynn closed his eyes, gripped by the power of this new truth.
And suddenly the field was no longer empty, the shadows no longer growing. Flynn lifted his head, staring into the heavens. One thought penetrated the wonder. He had to tell Cindy how he felt about her. How he really felt about her.
Flynn wanted this incredible woman in his life. The woman who had set him free. And who, he hoped, would share his love.
The evening sky was settling stars in formation before Flynn reached the house. From the study windows, Cindy watched for him, knowing softball practice should have ended some time before. It didn’t seem much could happen to him in a small place like Rosewood, yet she couldn’t help worrying.
She’d put the girls to bed, but Ricky was still up, waiting for Flynn. As much as she was growing to love the child, it was Flynn that filled the loneliness in Ricky’s life, the one he turned to.
Hearing the front door open, Ricky scooted through the kitchen and into the foyer. Cindy followed more slowly, watching as Flynn scooped up the boy, hugging him. Then he set him back on the floor, ruffling his hair, keeping one hand on his shoulder.
Her gaze met Flynn’s. Something about him was different. She couldn’t place it, yet she was certain. “I saved you some dinner.”
“I don’t suppose it’s that great veggie lasagna?”
She stared at him in surprise. “Do you really like it?”
“Sure. It’s great. Not as good as your crab puffs, but still great.”
Cindy considered checking his I.D. Was this really Flynn Mallory? “Well, actually I did make lasagna.”
Flynn glanced down at Ricky. “Have you eaten?”
“Uh-huh. But I could eat more,” he offered hopefully.
Flynn glanced at Cindy. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head, still wondering at his easy manner. “No, it’s fine.” Then she glanced down at Ricky. “A small piece for you?”
“Okay. Does this mean we can have more brownies, too?”
Cindy smiled tolerantly. “Why not?”
But it didn’t take long for Ricky to start tiring. Soon his eyelids were drooping.
Flynn glanced at Cindy. “Maybe the guys ought to head upstairs.”
“I’m not tired,” Ricky protested, fighting a yawn.
“’Course not.” Flynn pretended to yawn, stretching his long arms upward. “But I am. Want to keep me company?”
Ricky yawned again. “Okay.”
Cindy watched them leave, the tall man, the very small child. It shouldn’t affect her so, she knew. But it was a tender picture.
She rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. Remembering that Flynn had liked her limeade, she pulled out some limes, squeezing them into a pale pink, Depression glass pitcher. Once it was ready, she hung maraschino cherries from matching pink glasses.
Flynn entered the kitchen as she was arranging the tray.
“I thought we could take this outside,” she offered as he crossed the room to stand beside her. Close beside her.
She started to lift the tray, but Flynn took it from her, carrying it out the open French doors. Once she was seated, he put the tray on the table then pulled up a chair right next to hers.
Cindy kept sneaking glances at him, wondering what was up with him. “How’d practice go?”
He shrugged. “I doubt we’re ready for the major leagues, but it’s coming together.”
“Mmm.” She let a few moments pass. “So, nothing out of the ordinary?”
He met her gaze. “Such as?”
She shrugged away the question. “Limeade? It’s the one I make with—”
“Maraschino cherries.” His gaze met hers. “I know.”
Cindy licked her lips nervously. “Of course you do.”
The limeade was just sweet enough, the night just quiet enough…the tension between them, however, rising higher than the new moon.
“Cindy?”
She jumped, sloshing the limeade. “Yes?”
“There’s something we didn’t talk about the other night.”
“Oh?”
“About how we felt when we met.”
She swallowed. “That was a long time ago.”
“And we were very different people then.”
Her head jerked up. “You think so?”
“Don’t you?”
She stared at him hopelessly. “But you haven’t noticed that I’ve changed, that—”
He leaned even closer. Reaching out he took her hand. “Have I waited too long?”
Pain sweltered, its heat dissolving her hope. Now she recognized the new emotion in Flynn’s demeanor and expression. He was confusing loneliness for something more. A man accustomed to being married, now adrift on his own. She’d known men and women like him before—people who could not emotionally bear to be on their own, even though they were unrelentingly self-sufficient. And soon he would be on his own—his new house lacked only finishing touches.
But companionship wasn’t enough for her. It was a great and true love, or nothing. “It’s not a matter of time.”
Flynn’s expression dimmed, his eyes narrowing. “What then?”
She battled tears and temptation. “I can’t be a substitute for Julia.”
“I didn’t say I wanted that!”
“No. But I’ve become a comfortable habit. Caring for the girls, doing the things Julia always did, trying to fill the place in your lives that she left.”
“Comfortable?” he questioned incredulously. “That’s how you think I feel about you?”
But Cindy had tussled with this question far longer than he had. “Let’s be honest, Flynn. When we met, you chose Julia, not me. And fundamentally I am still that person. Wiser, more mature, more compassionate, but I’m still not demure and refined. I’m noisy, bullheaded and opinionated.” She clutched the arm of the wicker chair for support. “And I wouldn’t change myself to suit you if I could.”
“I haven’t asked you to change,” he protested.
Sadly she met his gaze. “No, but it’s what you would want. I can never be like Julia.” She swallowed again. “Let’s face it. You’ve been running from a woman like me since the day you lost your brother. That’s why you chose Julia, why you need someone like her. We may be sisters, but as you’ve pointed out, we’re so different we could have been conceived on separate planets.”
“Cindy, you’re not listening to me. I know who you are…who I want.”
She gazed at his sincere face, wishing she could believe him, wishing that for once her heart would overrule her head. But it wasn’t to be. She couldn’t open herself to more hurt, knowing the ultimate outcome, the disappointment he would feel when he realized how very little she was like her sister.
More important, Cindy couldn’t give her love to a man of unequal yoke. “That’s just it. You don’t know me.” She bit down on her lip to stop its trembling. “And neither one of us needs the disappointment.”
Flynn searched her expression. “You really believe I just want a substitute?”
Cindy thought of all the lonely nights, the longing for a husband and family of her own, the love she’d hidden for years. Despite that, she couldn’t be second best. And so she withdrew her hand from his. Despite the ebony night, she could see the confused disbelief in his eyes.
And knew it matched her own.
Chapter Seventeen
P ersistence had always paid off for Flynn. When he’d worked three jobs to put himself through college, when he had convinced a bank to loan him the seed money for his first business, when he’d taken that company from a struggling one-man outfit to a premier international insurance form.
But Cindy was a tougher nut to crack than any of those. And so Flynn decided he had to woo her. As romantically and creatively as ever was done.
For nearly three weeks he had tried chocolates, flowers, perfume, romantic picnics, evening strolls. And one thing was certain.
He hadn’t changed her mind at all. It was as though she tolerated the gestures, but didn’t take them too seriously, still believing he saw her only in Julia’s shadow. She even considered his recent church attendance to be nothing more than a show for her benefit.
It would take more, he realized. Not simple, traditional courting methods. It had to be something that blew her socks off.
And he could think of only one possible choice.
He glanced over at Cindy, uncomfortably scrunched close to the car door on her side. As far away from him as possible.
He withheld a sigh, turning into the recently completed driveway. “Here we are.”
Her face was unreadable as she looked up at his new house. “So we are.”
Before she could step from the car on her own, he was beside her door, opening it.
Her gaze encompassed the large, modern structure. “It really is lovely.”
“Nothing like your house, though.”
Cindy stared at the entrance again, a wisp of sadness coloring her expression. “No. Not at all.”
“Let’s go inside.”
She nodded, allowing him to guide her up the walk.
They passed through the arched courtyard that was a mix between a classic Italian style with Tuscan columns and Mediterranean tile and a more casual atrium. It had been designed to be inviting, much like the wraparound porch was at Cindy’s house. But at the same time, it offered a bit of privacy.
Once inside, surveying the interior, Flynn tried to see the house through her eyes, ones so very different than his own. He pointed to the unusual striped arches over the doorways in the entry hall. “Dark Texas Pecos sandstone,” he explained. “The lighter stone is granite.”
“I like it,” she responded quietly, the sadness in her face making its way into her voice. “It’s different, and I always appreciate using native materials.”
“I like contemporary, but I’m not crazy about living in a barren box.” He pointed toward the tall windows in the next room. “There’s a loggia in the back that I want to be cozy, like your terrace.”
Flynn led her deeper into the house.
“The design is good,” she commented as they stepped into the great room that seemed all windows and white walls. “With warm decorating, it won’t be sterile.”
“Glad you brought that up.”
She lifted her gaze. “Oh?”
Flynn felt himself falling into that gaze, wishing he could simply offer the shelter of his embrace, that she would believe how much he valued her. “Well, actually, I want to ask you a huge favor.”
“What is it?”
“I’d like you to decorate the house.”
Clearly stunned, she stared at him. “What did you say?”
He smiled, pleased to see the sadness chased away by surprise. “I think you heard me. I’d like you to decorate the house.”
She studied his expression. “I don’t get it. My style couldn’t be more different than yours.”
“Please?”
Swallowing, she turned again to look at the clean lines of the room. “So, what do you have in mind?”
“Put your stamp on it, your distinctive sense of style.”
Cindy frowned. “Why mine?”
He shrugged. “Could we call it one last gift in a long list of things you’ve done for me, the girls?”
Cindy clasped her hands together, the nervous gesture as betraying as the dark pain she tried to hide. “Why don’t I copy what Julia chose for your home in Houston? I remember it pretty well.”
“No. It wouldn’t suit you. I’m not looking for a substitute for Julia. Not in my house. Not in my life. Just as I don’t want you to change yourself, to imitate her. You’re no substitute, Cindy. It’s your style I want in my house.”
Her face filled with wonder and disbelief. “But…what if you hate it? What if—”
“What if you let me decide the things I like and want?”
A month later Cindy was still mulling over his words. She couldn’t help wondering exactly what Flynn had meant by them. They’d already resolved that she would never be a substitute for Julia. And yet, no amount of arguing would convince him that she shouldn’t be the one decorating his new house. When they were at the final impasse, he’d told her flatly that he and the girls would stay at her house until she agreed.
Although part of her would like nothing better, Cindy knew she couldn’t take the daily torture of having Flynn in her house much longer, knowing they had no future.
So she’d thrown herself into the project, taking time out only for her Rainbow class which the triplets attended and, of course, the triplets themselves. The rest of her hours were spent studying colors, textures, fabrics and furniture. She told herself that she was spending the time as part of her ongoing endeavor to help the girls. But in reality, she needed the distance from Flynn, from the feelings she couldn’t control. Luckily Noah found a temporary replacement for her in the band so that wasn’t a distraction.
Thinking surely Flynn would want to ship at least some of his belongings to the new house, she’d pressed him again. But Flynn was unyielding. He had already arranged for an estate agency to auction everything in storage, which should bring in an amount at least equal to his new decorating budget.
When Cindy heard that, she’d gulped in apprehension. What if he didn’t like what she chose? What would he replace it with?
Flynn showed no concern whatsoever.
Which made Cindy that much more nervous.
His only specific request was that she decorate the guest room in a style suitable for a young boy, for Ricky when he visited, Flynn explained.
Although she urged Flynn to inspect the house as she chose first the paint colors, then rugs for the wood and tile floors, he declined. Nor would he accompany her to furniture stores or galleries in either Rosewood or Houston, insisting he wanted the house to have her exclusive style.
So the first week she picked out the colors and hired painters. Then she shopped. It was a challenge. She wanted the house to be masculine, yet comfortable for the girls. And, some of her own whimsy and playfulness also incorporated itself in the decorating. She was glad to be putting her own stamp on the house, knowing a small part of her would remain with him.
It was a mixed feeling, the joy of doing something special for the man she loved, tempered by the sadness of knowing how much she would miss Flynn and the girls. And as the long summer days eventually shortened, so did her hope.
Three weeks later, Cindy was ready to show Flynn the completed project. They’d spent very little time together since she’d started working on the house. When Flynn came home from the office, she left him with the children, spending each evening at the new house.
Now, despite the time she’d poured into the work, she was anxious about his reaction.
Glancing over at him, she swallowed. It was a place for play, for living, for love. She was a mass of nerves as they stepped out of his car. “You know I’m a collector at heart, but I also have very eclectic tastes.”
“Hmm,” he agreed noncommittally.
Entering the walled courtyard, they were immediately shaded and surrounded by varying-sized plants she had nestled into the cool space. She’d also added a nineteenth-century fountain that spilled a calming stream of water near the flora. The now-serene alcove appeared almost European, with its now seemingly aged charm.
“I hope you like plants,” she continued, still feeling like a tour guide instructing a reluctant tourist.
“Yes.”
Cindy wondered at the brief reply as she used the key he’d given her to unlock the front door. She handed him the key, knowing she wouldn’t need it again.
They stepped into the entry hall, which she’d had painted in a warm terra-cotta wash that highlighted the beautiful stonework above the doorways. A simple table in the center of the hall held a sleek vase filled with yellow flowers.
“I know guys don’t usually have flowers,” she explained anxiously. “But they give such life to a house.”
“I like it,” he remarked, strolling on to the great room.
It took her a moment to absorb that. Then realizing he was walking forward, she scurried to catch up. Uneasily she watched for his reaction to the main living area. She’d had the walls painted a warm, honey yellow that seemed to glow, almost at one with the light flowing in the ceiling-to-floor windows. A thick, comfortable rug anchored the room.
She had interspersed leather club chairs with a warm fabric sofa. The antique armoire that held the television and VCR was a pleasant contrast to the sleek furniture.
“I was going for warm but modern,” she explained earnestly. “For you and three growing, constantly changing girls.”
Flynn didn’t say anything, instead turning slowly in the space.
“And upstairs,” she continued nervously. “Even though you gave the girls a three-room suite, I thought each room should have its own character, so although the colors harmonize, each one’s different. Is that okay?”
He didn’t answer, still looking around the great room.
“Flynn?”
Finally he turned to her. “No, Cindy, it’s not okay.”
He reached for her hand, turning it palm up, then dropping the key into her grasp.
Disappointment rushed through her. He really did hate it.
“It’s far more than okay.” His gaze traveled over the soft lamps, the incredible artwork. “It’s like you. Singularly unique. One of a kind. Which is why I love you.”
Cindy desperately wanted to believe his words, but the fragments of logic she still possessed overruled her heart. “I can’t be a stand-in for Julia. I have to be loved for myself, not because I helped you or the girls.” Her words stumbled. “It has to be all or nothing.”
“Then let’s choose all.”
Cindy’s eyes pleaded with him. “You had your true love. And I deserve that, as well.”
Flynn pulled her an inch closer. “Don’t you see that I do? How incredibly unique and wonderful you are?”
Afraid to believe, she shook her head.
His eyes darkened to beyond ebony. “I never knew before what real love was. You’re right. I’ve been hiding from it all my life. But I know now. And it’s because you’re an original.”
Cindy swallowed, wishing…wondering.
“I’ve grown to know the value of a meteor that streaks through life.” He reached out, gently touching her vibrant tresses. “I want a woman with red hair and a personality to match.”
“But…I’m so different.”
His eyes warmed in a way she’d never seen before. “Exactly. Don’t you understand? I don’t want to curtail your enthusiasm, I want to embrace it. I want to squeeze the last drop of goodness from every day like you do.” He tucked back a lock of her wildly curling hair. “With you.”
Her lips trembled. “Oh, Flynn…”
“Will you marry me, Cindy? In your church? The one I’ve come to believe in again?”
Cindy’s eyes filled and she couldn’t control the quivering of her lips. “I must be dreaming, or you are….”
“No, for the first time in a long time I know exactly where I am, where I want to be, who I want to be with.”
“Are you sure, Flynn? About your faith? About me?”
He nodded. “You were right. I hadn’t prayed since I was nine, so I was pretty rusty. But He didn’t seem to mind.” Flynn’s hands rested on her shoulders. “And I’m just as sure about you. My life will never be the same without you. You’re the light that I’ve needed forever, that I never believed existed. The one I ran away from the day I met you.”
“And you’re sure you still don’t want to run away?”
“I want to run toward you, Cindy, toward a future brighter than I ever guessed was possible.”
Cindy’s eyes closed briefly in a prayer of thanksgiving, in happiness greater than she’d ever known.
And when he pulled her into his arms, she knew it was no dream, but a reality hoped for…and prayed for.
His lips were gentle as they touched hers. Their joy was as bright as the persistent beams of the late-afternoon sun.
“I love you,” she said with wonder, never having believed the words could be uttered aloud to him.
He reached for her hand, his fingers strong, his heart gentle. “Then I believe this is mine.”
Epilogue
Sixteen months later
T hree matching faces lined up in front of the nursery at Rosewood Memorial Hospital.
“Are you sure ours will be that little?” Beth asked.
Ricky nodded. “Sure, they’re always little when they’re born.” Formally adopted by Cindy and Flynn, he had stepped naturally into the role of older brother, and the triplets both revered and loved him to pieces.
“Will it go live in the children’s house?” Mandy asked, referring to Cindy’s old Victorian home that Cindy had donated for a children’s shelter.
“’Course not. That’s why they had that other bedroom built on the house.” Ricky glanced up, seeing the nurse’s reproving expression. The woman had agreed to watch them until an adult arrived, but she was all business. “We better go sit down.”
“Yeah,” Beth agreed, second in command to Ricky as the most assertive triplet. “Daddy said we had to be quiet or we couldn’t stay.”
“Miss Katherine’s supposed to be here,” Mandy fretted, anxious without her father or Cindy in sight.
“She’s on her way,” Ricky explained for the dozenth time. “The baby wasn’t supposed to come till next week. Dad said she’s driving here from Houston. And Miss Donna’s sick so she couldn’t come.” Ricky’s face screwed into a frown, peering toward the labor and delivery rooms. “I wonder what they’re doing in there. We’ve been here forever.”
Actually it was barely a few hours. But down the hall, Flynn was wondering about many things, as well.
How he’d come to have such an incredible wife, how she’d changed his life in such a short time. He remembered their simple but beautiful wedding. The triplets had all been flower girls, Ricky the ring bearer. Michael had been pleased to be his best man and Katherine, as matron of honor, had beamed the entire time. But no one had radiated like his Cindy. His Cindy.
Together they were a family in the truest sense, with Ricky and the girls. Flynn had never before felt such a complete sense of belonging as he did in the fellowship of their church. He could depend on the Lord, as well as his many trusted friends.
It was a funny thing, under Cindy’s tutelage he’d learned that love was the one thing that increased as you gave it away. The more love he gave to others, the fuller his life became.
Cindy’s hand squeezed Flynn’s more tightly, and he smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Almost as beautiful as his mother,” Flynn replied, believing no woman could ever compare to his wife.
A few tears spilled on to her cheeks.
“Tears now?” he asked in surprise.
She nodded tremulously. “You bet.”
He smiled, delighted as always by her spunk, then kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
Her eyes met his in shared understanding. “This wasn’t a solo project.”
“Maybe not. But you’ve given me so much—a true family, Ricky, another new son.”
She glanced at the baby, who rested against her chest. “Little Todd Mallory?”
His throat tightened. “You really want to name him after my brother?”
Cindy’s eyes were soft, her smile bright. “Can you think of anything more fitting? This way we can embrace the good of our pasts.” The baby’s tiny fingers clutched hers. “And in him we have the promise of a whole new future.”
Flynn stared at her, scarcely able to believe that he had captured this truly mercurial comet, that she was his wife, his love. For a moment he closed his eyes and uttered a now-familiar prayer of thanks.
Then she glanced up again, her bright green eyes so filled with life it made him ache.
Flynn smoothed the back of his hand over her cheek. “I didn’t know it was possible for my love to grow each and every day.”
Tenderness filled her expression. “We’ve been given a new beginning, the rarest of gifts.”
Their hands clasped together, the pain of the past fading, the joy of tomorrow growing. Just as it had since they’d married a month after he proposed.
Knowing that the feelings they shared were a blessing directly from heaven, their eyes met. In that moment they left the past behind for good, looking to a future filled with hope, buoyed by love…and forever awash in the brilliant light of two hearts joined as one.
Dear Reader,
There are few things more heartrending than love denied. Especially when that love is impossibly out of reach. For Cindy Thompson, a woman of incredible spirit and equally strong faith, it is a road she would never have chosen to travel.
Which is why I was compelled to tell her story, to give voice to these characters who found a place in my heart, as well. I hope they will tread on yours, as they undertake their journey of both love and faith. And in the twining, discover that nothing is more important and binding than the ties of family.
God Bless.
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