Chapter Nine
C indy finished snapping the last overall strap in place. She grinned, just looking at the triplets, thinking surely they were the most lovable children on earth.
Alice, the child who clung the closest and had bonded inseparably with her, reached for her hand.
“You all look great,” Cindy complimented them, glad she’d picked different color T-shirts for each one. Purple, kelly green and bright yellow.
All of the clothes Flynn had brought with him were things Cindy considered more appropriate for dress-up occasions.
“Daddy!” Beth hollered, seeing Flynn in the hall.
He turned into the room with a smile that faded faster than ice cream on a hot summer sidewalk.
“Me pretty?” Mandy asked again, this time directing the question to Flynn.
Seeing the displeasure on his face, Cindy motioned with a shake of her head for him not to say what was obviously on his mind. “I’m sure Daddy always thinks you’re pretty.”
“Sure, punkin,” Flynn replied. “Why don’t you and your sisters head downstairs? You can get the granola out. But no running.”
They took off with typical toddler speed, but the sound of their sneakers slowed down as they reached the stairs, having been properly impressed by the danger of falling down the wide, wooden steps.
“What’s with the overalls?” Flynn asked as soon as they heard the girls successfully navigate the stairs.
Taken aback, Cindy stared at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I don’t consider overalls proper attire for my daughters.”
Cindy hesitated, remembering all too well the frilly dresses Julia always put them in. “How do you expect them to run and play if they’re dressed like porcelain dolls?”
He waved away the concern. “It’s never been a problem.”
Cindy wouldn’t criticize her late sister if it meant biting her tongue until it sliced clear through. Yet, she couldn’t relent on this point. “They’re not fragile dolls meant to be put on a shelf. They’re real children who need to run and get dirty, and maybe scrape a knee.” A new thought prodded her. “Is that what you’re worried about? That they’ll get hurt if they play like other children?”
His mouth tightened and Cindy wondered what past demon still possessed him.
“I’m not blasé about my children’s safety. And I don’t understand your attitude. Why are you so willing to assume they’ll be all right?”
Cindy blinked, nearly taking a step backward from the wrath she saw in his eyes. “Flynn, I care terribly about their welfare. I, too, have lost everyone in my family. I don’t want to lose anyone else. Especially the girls. But you can’t lock them away, either.” Taking a chance, she continued. “I know that’s what Julia tried to do. She never got over the fact that if Dad hadn’t insisted on so much adventure, he and Mom would be alive. But they had to live as they did, including that last boat ride. There was something in Dad that pushed him to carve every bit out of every minute. And Mom loved him enough to understand that. It was an accident, a dreadful, sad, unfortunate accident, but it wasn’t some sort of morbid legacy. I’m sorry if Julia brought that worry to your marriage and transferred it to the girls. But keeping them from life won’t keep them alive.”
His jaw tightened even further. “Don’t meddle in things you know nothing about.”
“Nothing? They were my parents, too, and—”
“But the triplets are my children, not yours. I’ll decide what’s best for them.”
Cindy pushed past the pain of his reminder, one that said no matter how she’d grown to love the girls, they would never be hers. “Of course they’re your daughters. But I do care desperately about them, as well. And I certainly don’t think wearing overalls and T-shirts will scar them for life.”
He snorted impatiently. “What’s next? Jeans and cigars?”
She smiled, despite the unresolved tension. “Jeans maybe. But I’ll hold off on the cigars.”
Flynn’s glance lifted to encompass the picture of Jesus that still hung on the wall. The unspoken reminder of his displeasure lingered between them.
He pivoted toward the door.
But Cindy reached out, catching his arm.
The contact seared between them.
As quickly she dropped her own hand. “I—I was wondering if you’d like to go with us to the park. I promised the girls. We could make a morning of it, take some lunch along.”
Flynn’s eyes remained dark, unrevealing. “I have to go into the office. I’m interviewing some applicants today.”
She nodded. “I see.”
His gaze searched hers again. However, just when Cindy thought he was about to say something, he turned, leaving the room.
And again she wondered.
The park was perfect. Spring in the Texas Hill Country meant mild temperatures, often sunny skies. And wildflowers colored all the fields beyond the manicured lawns of the park.
The girls spotted the seesaw and squealed as they headed straight for it. Cindy didn’t mind. She knew they would all try to get on one side and they’d be safe until she put the cooler on a redwood table beneath the shaded canopy of tall oak trees.
Beth, Mandy and Alice all sat on one side as she’d predicted. Plucking Mandy from the trio, she put her on the other end, using her own weight to help Mandy move up and down. When they finally tired of the seesaw, they were off to the swings, then the slide, the sandbox and the monkey bars. By then they were ready for the seesaw again.
She put Mandy and Beth on one end this time and took her place with Alice, reaching out to pull the child down so Mandy and Beth could rise.
“Any room on there for me?” Flynn asked from beside her.
Startled, she let the board go, snapping Alice back into place. “Sorry, sweetie.”
“Tell you what,” Flynn offered. “I’ll sit with Alice and you sit with Mandy and Beth.”
He looked as though he expected her to refuse. But she’d seldom met a challenge she’d capitulated to. So she walked to the other end, pulling the girls down and sitting behind them.
Flynn easily pulled down all their weight with one arm and climbed on the seesaw behind Alice.
Cindy tried to be cautious, but Flynn’s strong legs pumped them quickly up and down. Within a few minutes, she was laughing along with the girls, their giggles and hoots filling the quiet playground.
Nearly winded, Cindy was ready to call for a timeout. But a new, unexpected twinkle flashed in Flynn’s eyes. And she couldn’t resist the dare lurking in them.
It felt as though they were almost flying as the seesaw moved up and down, again and again. Even so, they were careful to keep a secure grip on the girls. It was Flynn who finally slowed the pace when the girls began to tire.
“No, Daddy!” they chorused.
But Flynn plucked them off one by one.
“Okay, girls. Let’s head to the table. Time for some lunch.”
“And a nap,” Cindy said quietly, reaching down to pick a wildflower, knowing the girls would be so exhausted they’d probably fall asleep in the car on the way home.
Although they protested, each one came to the table. “I thought you had to be at the office,” Cindy commented, pulling at the stem of the buttercup.
“The interviews didn’t take long.”
Cindy wondered if he’d rushed the interviews so he could join them. As quickly she dismissed the notion.
“Did you find anyone you liked?”
“Actually, all three that showed up.”
“Is it going to be hard to choose?” she asked.
“No. I hired all of them.”
Surprised, Cindy glanced up at him. “Do you have that much work for them to do?”
“If my concept’s valid.”
Concern mixed with her other feelings. “Do they know it’s a risk?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t let someone assume a sense of security that’s not certain. But they seemed to think it was a risk worth taking.”
Cindy nodded. “I only asked because new jobs aren’t that plentiful in Rosewood. Even Adair Petroleum brought in their own people for the new regional office. I’d hate to see someone give up a secure job and then wind up unemployed.”
“I may not be a member of your religious circle, but I don’t cheat or lie, either.”
She bit back at the exasperation bubbling to be heard. “Of course you don’t. And belonging to a church isn’t about judging others. In fact, it’s just the opposite.”
“Not in my experience.”
“What is that experience, Flynn?” she asked quietly.
“Doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. It’s gone, unchangeable.”
She searched his eyes, seeing a wealth of pain he usually concealed well. “If it would help you to deal with today—”
“I have to depend on myself, Cindy. Myself alone. I learned that a long time ago. And talk of church won’t change that.”
“It’s not just talk, not to me, despite what you believe.”
“Has your faith brought back your mother, your father…Julia?” Bleakness so cold, it stole away the warmth of the day, surfaced in his eyes. “I didn’t think so.”
“But—”
“And you’ll move past this phase too, Cindy. You think I’m saying this to be cruel, but that’s not it. You shouldn’t be sucked in by a myth any more than I should. Myths don’t protect and nurture.”
Feeling the pain of his tortured soul in her own, she reached for his hand. “Despite what you think of me, my scattered ways, the way I poorly compare to Julia, don’t let that stand between you and the truth.”
He glanced down at their clasped hands.
Feeling the heat of his gaze, she slowly withdrew her own.
“The truth is I haven’t believed God existed since I was nine years old. Meeting all your church friends, even liking them or considering them my new friends, allowing the girls to attend Sunday school, playing on the church softball team, none of that will change how I believe.” He glanced at the table where the girls were happily digging into the chips and cookies. “You live a fairy tale, Cindy, and I don’t want to take that away from you. But don’t think you’ll change me. Ever. Because it won’t happen.”
Cindy forced her stiff legs forward, her body numb from his words. Was that truly how he felt? Would he never, never change his views about his faith? And if not, where did that leave her love for him?
Closing her eyes, she remembered the past painful years, ones spent silently loving him. Reality struck like a slap across the face. Even if he could eventually come to love her, she couldn’t spend her life with a man of no faith.
And she’d thought convincing him that she’d changed was her largest obstacle. Now, it seemed a minor bump in the road in comparison. Yet, it, too, was a mammoth barrier. For the first time since she’d met Flynn Mallory, Cindy faced the truth. They weren’t meant to be together, not then, not now. Never.
Even though Flynn had no use for religious holidays, he tolerated those with secular meaning, as well. So he had expected Cindy to color Easter eggs and fill baskets for the girls.
But returning home from the office, he was stunned to see Cindy’s charity kids all grouped around the kitchen table, as well. A dozen bowls held all shades of dye and it looked as though Cindy had boiled at least six dozen eggs for decoration.
Cindy, like the kids, seemed to be wearing an undue amount of dye, as well.
“Any dye left for the eggs?” he asked, coming closer to the table.
Cindy glanced up at him, then down at her messy hands and arms. “Possibly a drop or two.” Quickly she introduced the children. Flynn smiled at them in turn.
The triplets, imitating Cindy, held out their arms, as well. Alongside the light-tinted dye stains were deep streaks of color.
Flynn’s tolerant smile faded. “Are you sure that washes off?”
Cindy followed his gaze. Her patient smile dimmed. “That doesn’t look like the egg dye.”
Ricky held up a black marker. “We found these in the crayon drawer.”
Cindy’s eyes widened. Reaching out, she took the marker from him, then collected the others. “These are permanent markers, Ricky. We don’t use these to color on anything. They’re mine for making signs. Are you sure they were in the crayon drawer?”
Six-year-old Ricky shrugged. “I dunno. Paul and me found ’em.”
Cindy glanced up at Flynn. “Sorry. I didn’t realize they’d gotten into these.”
“So they’re not going to wash off?”
She shook her head. “Not for a while anyway.”
“Great. They’ll look as though they’ve been tattooed.”
Cindy looked first at the triplets, then back at Flynn, inserting a placating note in her voice. “They can wear long sleeves till it fades.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “And you plan to take them to church tomorrow looking like that?”
Cindy’s smile wavered. “I’ll find something for them to wear.”
He glanced around the messy, cluttered kitchen, but didn’t say anything. What was the point? As though she could pull together this fiasco, clean up the children and find them something to wear for the next day. It was of no concern to him. Flynn didn’t want the girls to attend anyway. At first he’d considered Sunday school simply a social thing, but he didn’t want the girls to make connections that would be difficult to break.
And he was certain Cindy wasn’t committed enough to the church to spend the night assembling outfits for the triplets.
Easter morning dawned, bright and beautiful. So much so, that it seemed perfect, Cindy realized, as she hemmed the last small dress.
Flynn had been right. She had scrubbed the girls’ arms as vigorously as possible during bath time, yet the stains wouldn’t budge. And nothing the girls owned would completely cover the permanent ink marks on their arms. A quick trip to the children’s store had been fruitless, as well. Being spring, all the dresses had short sleeves.
But Cindy wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Returning home, she’d searched her project closet, unearthing a bolt of white material that had been intended for church tablecloths. Since she’d purchased pink hats and socks to go with their short-sleeved Easter dresses, Cindy was certain she could come up with something appropriate.
Using an older dress for a pattern, Cindy cut out three little dresses. Once sewn, the dresses still lacked something. Rooting through her project materials, Cindy almost squealed when she unearthed two full rolls of wide pink ribbon. She had once used a third roll to make congratulatory ribbons for the kids. Now she was certain it would make the perfect accent for the pristine white dresses. It didn’t take long to braid the pink ribbon with a bit of lace, forming sashes.
Although Cindy was tired by morning, she was also pleased. Making dresses for the girls was far more satisfying than purchasing them. And now she decided the pure white dresses with their simple sash belts were far prettier than the short-sleeved floral ones she’d purchased.
Skipping downstairs to grab a cup of coffee, she was surprised to see Flynn in the kitchen. “It’s early for you, isn’t it?”
“I know you’re disappointed that the girls won’t be able to go to church, so I’m making breakfast.”
“’O, ye of little faith.’”
He frowned. “We’re not going into that again, are we? I’ve allowed the girls to go to Sunday school because it seems mostly playing and coloring and singing at their age. But—”
She held up one hand. “I’m a little tired for a theological debate this morning. Besides, it’s Easter. Let’s not spoil that.”
He handed her a mug of coffee. “Why are you so tired?”
She smiled. “I’ve been up sewing.”
“You know how to sew?”
“You really do think Julia and I were conceived on different planets.” She waved away his attempt to explain or apologize. It really didn’t matter which. “Yes, I know how to sew. I made the girls new dresses for today—long-sleeved dresses.” She took a healthy sip of coffee, then glanced at him. “You can close your mouth now.”
“Sorry. But what possessed you to do that?”
Meeting his questioning gaze, all she could feel was sadness so immense, it wearied her far more than the sleepless night. “I don’t think you can possibly understand.” She gripped her mug closer. “And that makes me the one who’s sorry.”
Turning away before she could see his stunned face, Cindy jogged up the stairs, escaping the questions, but embracing the day. She took comfort in the beautiful Easter morning, knowing the agony it cost Flynn to stand alone. Also knowing she was powerless to change his unyielding views. But it was Easter, the day of new promises and life. And time to put this dilemma in His hands.
Chapter Ten
T he next few weeks were tense. Flynn hadn’t wanted to unleash more of his past. But all of Cindy’s questions did just that.
Funny though, escaping from Cindy had pushed him into a closer friendship with Michael Carlson and Tom Sanders. He still felt the instant kinship he’d shared with Michael since the first time they’d met. He’d been far more reluctant to accept Tom as a friend, remembering too well how chummy the other man seemed to be with Cindy. He refused to put a name to why that bothered him, but it hadn’t made him want Tom as a friend.
Then, during one of their card games, Flynn had learned inadvertently that Tom Sanders wasn’t a romantic interest. Tom referred to her as the little sister he’d never had, but one he was glad to have in his life. The words were genuine and true, Flynn realized with a touch of shame.
But that didn’t relieve Flynn’s thoughts fully. There was still Noah Brady to consider. And the good doctor didn’t come to their friendly card games; his crowded schedule too full.
It didn’t matter, Flynn told himself. Cindy could date whomever she wanted. That nagging feeling in his gut was no doubt a brotherly concern of his own. An inner voice told him that reasoning didn’t ring true, but he ignored it. And each day, like today, it had been on his mind as he worked.
The house was quiet as he entered. It had been a long day at the office—too long. Quietly walking upstairs, he was disappointed to find that the girls were already asleep. It was his own fault, Flynn realized. The same mistake he’d made when Julia had been alive. Resolving not to let it happen again, Flynn passed Cindy’s room, seeing that it was empty. He searched the rest of the house, looking for her.
She was out on the terrace. Sitting in one of her aged, fan-shaped wicker chairs, Cindy had a tall glass of what looked to be lemonade on the round wrought-iron table. A pitcher and a second empty glass sat on one of her painted, wooden trays. The arbor shaded the last of the sun’s evening rays, creating a dappled illusion of shape and shadow.
Cindy could have stepped out from the confines of a Renoir canvas, Flynn realized suddenly. Her vibrant hair and eyes, the old-fashioned sundress, her clear porcelain skin.
He could tell she didn’t hear him approaching, his soft-leather-soled shoes making little noise on the faded red cobbled stones.
Cindy was intently studying a tall, wide book. Without the unceasing tension that normally separated them, she looked gentler…soft even. Nothing about Cindy ever said soft.
Wild, impulsive, adventurous. But never soft.
Still he gentled his own tone, trying to quiet the intrusion. “Hey.”
She didn’t jump, instead finally looking up at him as though reluctantly pulled from another world. Cindy belonged to another world, he realized suddenly. She could have fit in as easily in Victorian days as she did in the present. Her vivaciousness and quick wit would have made her a darling of society.
As he watched, her lips turned upward gently, not her usual wide grin, rather a soft sloping that revealed tenderness rather than mirth. “Hey, yourself.”
He gestured to one of the other chairs loosely gathered around the table. “Do you mind if I join you?”
She shook her head. “I thought you might be coming home soon. The other glass is for you. I made limeade.”
Of course. No traditional lemonade for nontraditional Cindy.
As he sat, she tipped the pitcher, filling his glass.
Now wanting to disturb the unusual, peaceful moment, he sipped the brew, finding it surprisingly good.
“It’s the maraschino cherries,” she told him before he could ask. “Sweetens without being too sweet.”
Again he nodded, enjoying the tranquil moment. Relaxing in the oversize chair, he wondered at this woman of many moods. “What are you reading?”
“A party planner. It has all kinds of great ideas for kids parties.”
Surprised, he hadn’t expected her to need a guide. Her life used to be one endless party. Of course, that was before he’d burst on to the scene, bringing his three children and a weight of responsibility. “You thinking about a party?”
She smiled at him ruefully. “Oh, Flynn.”
Calmed by the surroundings, even her tone could scarcely stir him. “Yes?”
“The girls’ birthday. Next week. I want it to be extraspecial. The last one…well…you know.”
The last one had been too soon after Julia’s passing for him to celebrate it properly. Uncomfortably Flynn remembered that he hadn’t invited Cindy to the last-minute, toned-down birthday dinner. Only Flynn and the girls had been there. He had been ill at ease in the kiddy pizza place, the girls unhappy without their mother or Aunt Cindy.
And now it was time to plan another celebration. “Funny. I thought about it for months afterward, how I would make it up to them, taking the time to arrange something really special for the next birthday.”
“Perhaps you put it out of your mind because it reminded you of more difficult times.”
“Regret.” The word was surprisingly bitter in the calm of the night. “I’ve had my fill of it.”
Cindy’s gaze softened further. “Flynn, you can’t blame yourself for things no one can control.”
“Who do I blame?” he asked with less rancor, trying to match his tone to the mood of the night. “Your God?”
Agony darkened her bright green eyes and impulsively she laid one hand over his. “Is that what you want your daughters to believe?”
“I want them to understand you have to be strong on your own, that you can’t depend on anyone or anything in this life other than yourself.”
Cindy swallowed, her expression so earnest, it was nearly painful. “What about friends, the people who care about you? Ones who like you for who you are, not who you want to be? Who accept you, flaws and all, maybe liking you even more for having them. Do you want to shut them out of your life, too?”
Flynn considered her words, the depth of her sincerity. Depth? From Cindy? The girl he’d met that long-ago night hadn’t possessed depth. What she had possessed was like the lure of molten gold. Beautiful, but capable of burning when touched.
“What about you, Cindy? I’ve listened, observed. But you’ve never told me. Why did you come to Rosewood? What made you hide yourself so far away from your own friends and only family? You told me that you knew just Katherine when you moved here. Even Julia didn’t know about your plans until a few days before you left. What’s the big secret, Cindy? Why did you run away?”
Her mouth opened, but no words emerged. Instead she handed him the book she’d been reading. Then thrusting back her chair, she fled. Spry and slim, she disappeared into the house.
Left with only the night sounds for company, Flynn dropped his forehead against one splayed hand. What had come over him? Because she had pushed him, he knew, looking for answers. And he couldn’t bear to repeat the painful memories. So he’d pushed back, taking the offense instead of the defense.
Lifting his head, he glanced at the book she’d shoved into his hands. A piece of paper marked her place. On it she’d drawn a spectacular rendering of a child’s birthday party. One that seemed nearly as magical as the dreams all little girls should have.
And then he wondered what had happened to Cindy’s dreams. A passionate person, she must have once held lustrous hopes. And no matter what she said, he doubted those had begun or ended in Rosewood.
Paper lanterns fluttered gently in the breeze, lending an old-fashioned aura to the festive backyard. But they fit well with the antique wicker chairs and long, curving wrought-iron benches. The lattice arbor continued to shade the terrace where Cindy had set up several round tables. Each was covered by a rose-or daisy-patterned tablecloth that trailed to the ground. And she’d scattered just enough iridescent glitter over them that they sparkled in the sun. The largest table was already stacked with presents.
Knowing the kids wouldn’t want to remain seated at a long table, she had instead put punch and cups on one table, small plates with nuts and candy on another.
Although three sparkly tables were set aside for each of the girls’ birthday cakes, the actual desserts remained inside under wraps. She had chosen three separate shapes, flavors and colors to give each girl a special, individual birthday experience.
“It’s coming together,” Flynn commented, tacking up a Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey game.
Cindy nodded. “We’ve planned enough games to keep them occupied, and then of course, there’s the pony you rented.”
He winced. “Okay, maybe I am the one spoiling them. But the pony will only be here for a few hours. It’s not like I got them a stable.”
She placed a stack of games on a side table. “Only because there’s not enough room in my backyard, and your new yard’s still being torn up by bulldozers.”
“I wasn’t planning on a stable for nearly another year or two,” he retorted, a smile twitching on his lips.
She grinned, as well.
He glanced at the swing set that she had covered in streamers and balloons, then to the edge of the decorated arbor. She had wound streamers decorated with unicorns and delicate ballerinas among them all.
His gaze traveled to the dozen child-proportioned chairs and tables, which had been set with plates, cups and plastic forks, scattered throughout the yard. The multiple colors of the tablecloths resembled those of a box of spilled crayons. “And you didn’t go a little overboard yourself?”
She shrugged. “You know me. I go overboard with everything.”
For a moment he didn’t reply, the tension that never left them, surging again.
“Besides, I borrowed the kiddie furniture from the church.”
He lifted his brow.
“Katherine said it was okay. And you can help me haul it back.”
“After scraping up sticky plates and cups, that should be a treat,” Flynn replied easily. Then he spotted Noah Brady entering the yard through the side gate, as though he’d done it every day of his life. The man seemed uncommonly comfortable in Cindy’s home.
She turned to follow his gaze. “Oh, good! Noah’s here with his electronic keyboard. I thought the kids would like the music.”
“You haven’t heard of a CD player?” Flynn retorted.
She drew her brows together. “Live music’s a little more fun. Besides, I’ve drafted a few other players. The kids will love it.”
Flynn forced his thoughts to settle. This was his daughters’ birthday party, not the time to question Cindy’s personal life. Still, he watched as she rushed over to Noah, her smile wide and open. It occurred to him that the only time he saw that same smile on her face was when she was with someone other than him. As Flynn had suspected, Noah knew how to make her smile…. Evidently he was a man who came with no irksome baggage that precluded easy smiles.
Katherine and Michael Carlson, along with their children, arrived next. David, Annie and Danny immediately joined the triplets.
Flynn watched the Carlson family, still amazed that the couple had been together for such a short time. Not only did they seem ideally suited, but Katherine was openly loving and tender with all three children. Flynn was certain that no one would take them for a blended family. But then he guessed their relationship was an exception.
Michael raised a hand in greeting. Although Flynn was accustomed to keeping people at a distance, Michael was one of the few people Flynn had met who were simply and exactly what they seemed. No pretense, no agendas. Through softball and card games, he’d come to consider Michael a friend.
Michael crossed the yard. “Katherine and Cindy have their heads together, and I’m guessing we’re about to be drafted soon.”
Flynn found himself grinning. “That sounds like it was said from experience.”
“You wouldn’t believe what those two can dream up. You should have seen Annie’s first birthday party after we married. You’d have thought our house and yard had been taken over by a Barbie army. I saw pink for days.”
Flynn chuckled. “Barbie army, huh?”
“Don’t laugh. Wait’ll your girls are a little older. We’ve had tea parties that would send a sane man running for his life. You haven’t lived till you’ve come home to a dozen little girls dressed in hats and high heels and your wife acting as though it’s the most natural thing on earth.”
Flynn winced in male sympathy. “But you do have sons, as well.”
“Don’t even get me started on that. For David’s party, she had everyone dress like cowboys and cowgirls and she rented not one, not two, but three ponies. My yard looked like I’d been housing a herd of wild mustangs.”
Flynn tried not to laugh. “So, you’re telling me Katherine has a lot of…um…creativity.”
“More than enough. But it’s not just her. She and Cindy came up with both plans. Alone they’re fascinating. Together they’re positively explosive. You sure the circus isn’t planning to appear in the backyard today?”
“Nah. I wanted a pony. Cindy wanted a clown, but we agreed the pony alone would be best.”
Michael glanced around the yard. “You seen Cindy since we got here?”
Flynn shook his head.
Michael’s brows rose. “I was wondering why Katherine brought along an overnight bag. Ten to one, either she or Cindy makes an appearance dressed as a clown.”
“But she wouldn’t—”
Michael’s chuckle cut off his words. “Oh, Flynn, my man. You don’t know these women very well yet.”
“I don’t think Cindy would really do that.”
Michael’s hearty laugh echoed in the quiet yard. “Are you kidding? The two of them might burst through a flaming hoop!” He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “Buck up. You just have to realize that Cindy’s got an endless imagination.”
“A corked barrel of dynamite,” Flynn replied.
“I’m wrong. You do know her.”
“I did once,” Flynn admitted. “I’m not quite so sure now.”
Some of the male camaraderie faded from Michael’s expression. “I consider Cindy’s passionate spirit her best quality. It makes her who she is.”
And that was the problem. Yet Flynn only nodded.
Michael, in tune with Flynn’s change in mood, glanced toward the yard. “So what can I do to help?”
“Cindy’s got most of it set up. She’s been up since dawn.”
Michael chuckled. “When she was working on the church after the fire, we had to pry her down from the scaffolding. You’d have thought she had experience working on skyscrapers the way she climbed up and around that stuff.”
“She mentioned the fire briefly. What happened?”
“Old wiring. It leveled the sanctuary. But with a legion of volunteers like Cindy, we were able to salvage most of the original stone and brick. That’s why the building doesn’t look squeaky new.”
Flynn lifted a brow skeptically. “You mean Cindy was doing the work herself instead of writing a check?”
Michael’s face reflected his own surprise. “Why would you think she’d do that?”
Flynn shrugged. “The Cindy I’ve known never lasted very long with these fads of hers. Julia told me Cindy tried a half-dozen different occupations since we married, never staying with one long enough to see if it suited her. I honestly don’t believe this is any more than another craze.”
“Then maybe you don’t know Cindy as well as you think,” Michael replied quietly. “And that’s a shame.”
Flynn glanced over at Noah, who was running an extension cord for the keyboard and speakers. “I think there are plenty of other people in Cindy’s life who know her well.”
Michael kept his own counsel. “Maybe so.”
Flynn wasn’t sure why, but he sensed disappointment from Michael. Since they were still only new friends, Flynn wasn’t certain why this bothered him.
So he directed his gaze back to Noah. However, as he watched, a stream of children entered from the side gate. Cindy’s Rainbow kids. And it looked like both sets, from her two classes. Perfect.
“Cindy’s worked miracles with these kids,” Michael said, following his gaze.
Flynn continued watching them. “Yeah. Cookies and Play-Doh will do that.”
Michael shook his head. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but this isn’t going to be a religious lecture, is it?”
“That, too?” Michael asked in a knowing tone. “I should have guessed. But maybe it’s true, sharing a problem doesn’t make you recognize it in someone else. Like ex-alcoholics, smokers…and disbelievers. You’d think there’d be some sign of unity, but I guess we hide it because we don’t want to think about it, examine it too closely.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Until I met Katherine I was in the same place you are. Happy as I am now, it’s hard to think about that time. But if you need someone who understands, someone who was there, when you’re ready I’ll be around.”
The kids started hollering, clapping madly.
Flynn and Michael glanced in their direction, seeing Katherine stepping through the French doors with a clown.
“It was an even call,” Michael told him with a rueful note of glee. “But yours is the clown this time.”
Yours. Did Michael really see Cindy that way? As the woman in his life?
Watching her, Flynn couldn’t imagine two such ill-suited people.
Cindy had swept her luxurious, flaming hair into a multitude of ponytails. And her face was covered in white grease paint, her eyes, nose and lips blatantly outlined. Two bright spots of red circled her cheeks and she was dressed in orange and purple polka dots and a lime-green checkered plaid. It looked as though she’d wound at least a dozen scarves around her neck and waist. Her hands were covered by oversize cotton garden gloves in a wild floral print. She looked outrageous, unlikely and entirely unique. Much like her personality.
The older kids tugged her toward the backyard while the triplets stared at her with a sort of confused fascination and then started running toward her, as well.
When they reached her, Cindy made each of the triplets stand alone for a moment as she individually introduced them to the other children’s cheers.
“Are you going to do magic tricks?” young Ricky asked.
She frowned, walking over to him and bending down slightly. Her hands rested first on his shoulders, then one moved over his ear, producing a quarter. “I’m not sure you can afford my magic tricks,” she teased him, plopping the quarter into his hands.
As Flynn watched, Cindy performed a few simple tricks. But the children, unsophisticated and eager, clapped for each one.
Then she and Katherine brought out trays of paints and brushes. Face painting, Flynn realized. The children lined up in front of both Cindy and Katherine, eager to have designs painted on their small faces.
Flynn started to turn away when he saw Cindy beckon to him. Thinking she needed more supplies, he knelt beside her, just close enough to speak lowly into her ear, “I thought we’d decided not to have a clown.”
Her black outlined brows rose. “Oh, no. That was you.” Then she batted her huge false eyelashes. “Besides, I’m a woman of many talents.”
Standing up, he smiled at the next child in line, and started to move away.
Cindy snagged his hand, however. “Not so fast. I need another helper.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t know how to do this painting thing.”
“You can show him,” Annie Carlson suggested helpfully.
“Yes, Daddy paint!” Beth cried out.
“Yes!” Mandy and Alice echoed.
Flynn groaned aloud.
But Cindy was already swiveling toward him. “I think you’ll need to sit down so I can reach your face.”
“You’re going to show me on my own face?”
“What better way?” she asked. She motioned with her eyes to the triplets. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?” It was only because of his daughters that he complied.
“I should have made my escape when I could,” Flynn muttered.
Cindy was already dipping her brush into vivid green paint. “Perhaps a butterfly,” she mused. “Or a sweet little pink heart.”
He looked at the green paint. “The only reason I’m still sitting here is because that paint isn’t pink.”
She smiled, her perfect white teeth emphasized by the outlandish clown face makeup. “I think you can brave it through pink or green.” She lifted the green-coated brush. “But I won’t push my luck.” Leaning forward, she touched the tip of the feather-light brush against his cheek.
Flynn hadn’t known what to expect, a cold slimy glob of paint heated only by his embarrassment perhaps. Instead, her touch was incredibly gentle, much like a warm whisper against his skin.
Angling closer to paint the intricate design, she was mere inches from his face. He could smell the sweet rush of her breath, feel the warmth of her touch. Mesmerized, he sat as though paralyzed, his mind and body captive to her spell.
She had brought a small tray of paints with her and she tilted her face to study them, her forehead only a lock of hair away from his. Reaching up to add some final spots of brown, she paused.
Despite the camouflage of her clown makeup, he could discern the green of her eyes, the wisp of pink as her lips parted. And there was something in her face, something he’d never seen before—the true Cindy. Despite the ludicrous grease paint, her naked emotions were laid bare.
Cindy, all fun and fire. And something within stirred in response.
“Frog on Daddy!” Mandy exclaimed.
He tore his gaze from Cindy’s. “What?”
“Frog on you,” Mandy explained.
Flynn glanced up at Cindy.
She shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I thought the idea of face painting might make you feel like croaking.”
The laugh burst out before Flynn could stop it.
Alice tugged at his sleeve. “Daddy funny?”
“Yes,” he managed. “I imagine Daddy looks very funny.”
The moment broken, he accepted a tray of paints and a brush. “Me first?” Alice asked.
Flynn glanced at Cindy. “I can’t paint as well as she can.”
Cindy winked at this shiest triplet. “But Daddy paints with love, and that’s lots better than anything else.”
“Better,” Alice agreed.
And one of the cold places deep inside Flynn thawed a fraction. He had about decided that Alice preferred Cindy hands-down to her own father. Now she wrapped chubby arms around his neck. “Love you.”
Hastened by a furnace of emotion, the thawing continued. “I love you, too, punkin.”
“Make me a clown like Cinny?” Alice asked, with her sweet smile.
Two worlds, Flynn realized. One they shared with him, one with Cindy.
Flynn did his best, turning often to study Cindy’s face, presumably to copy her makeup. But he found his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too often.
When the face painting concluded, they rushed to other games. Even with a piñata dangling temptingly as the final prize, the kids still lingered over the other games.
Flynn, along with the other adults, spread out across the yard. So he was surprised to find himself playing Twister with Cindy.
“I could move on to another game,” he offered.
She shrugged. It was neither invitation nor rebuff. Yet he stayed.
It didn’t take long for Flynn, Cindy, Annie and David to become snarled in the game. The kids giggled as first Flynn hunched over, then Cindy stooped next to him, their shoulders touching.
Flynn felt her soft flesh, remembered the one dance they’d shared so many years ago. Then he took another turn and somehow they were tangled together on the slippery game mat.
As they bent, twisted, tangled, mangled, wound and curved, they were never more than inches apart. Inches that had once seemed like miles, he realized with sudden clarity. Because he had put them there.
The next call sent Cindy and Flynn falling, the kids bouncing on top of them. The game was over, but Flynn was slow to move away.
Cindy studied him curiously. “Are you ready for the cake and presents?”
He cleared his throat. “Sure.” And he tried to clear his head. “Whatever you think is best.”
She tilted her head. “Whatever I think is best?”
“Well, you did plan everything.” He couldn’t tell her she so distracted him that he could think of little else.
“Fine. Do you want to help me bring the cakes out?”
“Sure. I still can’t believe you baked three cakes. And why are they such a secret?”
Her smile was mysterious. “You’ll see.”
Strangely he wanted to.
Cindy signaled to Katherine, who came to help them carry in the multiple trays that had been hidden away in the small butler’s pantry behind the kitchen.
“What?” Flynn asked, staring at the unusual cakes.
“The shapes have a special meaning” was all Cindy would say. “You’ll see why soon.”
Flynn picked up the cake with Beth’s name on it. Cindy and Katherine followed suit and soon all the cakes were positioned on their special tables. Cindy had loaded the kids’ wagons with ice that held buckets of ice cream that could be pulled to each small table.
Cindy clapped her hands together. “It’s time for cake and presents!”
Three cakes for the triplets on their third birthday. It couldn’t be more perfect. At least when he figured out what the shapes meant, Flynn decided.
Candles lit, everyone began singing “Happy Birthday” with Noah and his friends playing in the background.
“Make a wish!” Cindy told the triplets as they pursed to blow out the candles.
“But don’t tell what it is,” Flynn added, suddenly remembering the few happy birthdays of his own childhood, memories he hadn’t even realized were still stored within.
Beth’s small face puckered in concentration. Mandy’s eyes widened. And Alice looked dreamy.
Cindy glanced at Flynn, indicating it was up to him to tell them to blow out the candles.
“All together. Get ready, blow them out…now!”
The girls squealed as each of their tiny sets of candles expired and smoke whirled up from their cakes. Everyone clapped and cheered.
“I’ll start getting the gifts,” Cindy offered. “If you want to help them cut their cakes.”
Flynn had a sudden memory of the girls’ first birthday. Julia had organized the party, insisting on doing everything herself. When he’d offered to help cut the cake, she’d waved him away. Capable, he’d thought. But he also remembered the feeling of being excluded, as though his presence wasn’t really needed.
Now, however, Cindy stood aside, allowing him to guide each girl’s hand in slicing the first piece from each of their cakes.
Waiting until that very special moment was over and Katherine and Michael took over the cake-cutting chore, Cindy pulled out one gift apiece.
“Hold cake!” Beth demanded, pushing her plate at Flynn.
He smiled at her excitement as she ripped open Cindy’s gift. It was a small ukelele. She studied it uncertainly.
“It’s to play,” Cindy explained. “Like when I make music on the piano.”
Beth plucked one string, its twang startling all the triplets. As Mandy and Beth stared intently at the instrument, Cindy handed them each their presents.
Mandy unwrapped hers the fastest. “Music?” she asked, holding up a recorder.
Cindy nodded. “You blow into it.”
Mandy did and was immediately delighted by the light woodwind sound the starter instrument produced.
Alice had her own present unwrapped by then, and she held up a small, child-size violin. “Alice music?”
Cindy produced a proportionately small bow. “You pull this over the strings.”
Alice did and instead of the terrible yowling sound they expected, the child instinctively pulled the bow gently over the strings. Her face bloomed at the sound.
“That’s wonderful!” Cindy exclaimed.
Pleased, but still shy, Alice glanced from the violin to her cake. “Matches!”
Flynn tore his gaze from his daughters to their cakes. He had recognized the violin shape, but now he realized the other two were formed as a recorder and ukelele. Unexpectedly he grinned.
He could see that Alice’s name was positioned on the frosting strings, as was Beth’s. Mandy’s lettering wove in between the recorder’s apertures. Each was as unique as his daughters.
Glancing up, he caught Cindy’s gaze on him. In it he saw a questioning, as though looking for his approval. He hadn’t ever suspected she sought approval, instead acting on her own whims and wishes.
Still she’d done all this on her own for the girls, creating, working…and at the same time making him feel a part of things, rather than a bystander. He raised his hand in a thumbs-up gesture.
The bizarre makeup emphasized her wide grin. Irrationally he wondered how she could look so pretty, clown makeup and all.
Chapter Eleven
F lynn told himself that flying Cindy to dinner in San Antonio was a simple thank-you, nothing more. His plane was hangared in the small local airport that was used primarily for crop dusters and rich oil executives who vacationed in the privacy of the Hill Country. He hadn’t expected Cindy to enjoy the mode of transportation; it was simply for expediency when he didn’t have the time to drive. Usually he preferred to have his own car, especially in Houston. The commute from the airport to downtown took nearly as long as the drive from Rosewood and wasn’t nearly as pleasant.
So it surprised him when Cindy’s face lit up at the invitation, then further brightened when he mentioned the plane. Julia had hated his Cessna Skyhawk. He had finally talked her into going up once, but she’d hated every moment, scarcely able to bear it until he’d landed. Then she’d scrambled out, swearing never to get into his plane again. What, she had asked, would happen to the girls if they were both killed in a crash?
Now, as Flynn taxied down the narrow runway, he could scarcely believe the excitement in Cindy’s expression. Leaning forward so far that she strained the straps of her seat belt, she stared out the windows.
Building up speed, Flynn took a moment to glance at Cindy. Instantly he recognized the pure adrenaline. The own rush he felt each time he jockeyed into the air.
With a gentle bump and swish, they were off the ground, gaining altitude.
“We’re up!” Cindy exclaimed, still peering through the windshield. “This is so cool. Look!” she pointed. “It’s like being in Land of the Giants. We can see the roofs and the tiny people!”
“You’ve been on a plane before,” he commented in mild amusement.
“But not this kind. It’s like a ride at Disneyland, only a whole lot better. In a commercial jet, you don’t see the details. You get too high up too soon.” She leaned even closer to the window, pulling her seat belt to its limit. “Look! Look! You can see the playground!” She laughed aloud. “If I had a plane like this, I’d be up here every day.”
“I used to, a long time ago,” Flynn admitted. “But not in the last few years.”
She tore her attention from the fast-disappearing panorama below. “Why did you stop?”
“Julia didn’t like it. She hated being in the plane herself, then worried every time I went up. So I only used it for business.”
Cindy’s eyes deepened in sympathetic understanding. “I know she felt that way. I didn’t realize you’d cut back so much. Julia didn’t mention that—only the concern. The way Mom and Dad died in that boating accident—it was tragic, but it changed Julia. She’d always been reserved, but after that, she absolutely detested anything that could even remotely be considered unsafe. She gave up horseback riding, boating, even biking.” Cindy paused. “I worried because it was as though she wanted to create this impenetrable shell of safety. I felt she was afraid to have any fun, to really enjoy life because of her fear.” Hesitating again, the tone of her voice cracked a bit. “And then to die so young from something she couldn’t protect herself from. I don’t know…it seemed so cruelly ironic.”
Flynn nodded. “I agree. But I’m surprised you see it that way. After all, don’t you believe your God could have saved her?”
Pain darkened her eyes, a deep abiding pain. “I won’t pretend to understand everything He does. But that’s why it’s called faith.”
Flynn took a deep breath. “I don’t want to ruin the afternoon. Maybe we should change the subject.”
She glanced through the large windshield at the decidedly blue sky, the uncluttered white of the drifting clouds. “We can, but it’s all around us.”
They rode quietly for a while, then Cindy began to pick out landmarks below, her excitement rekindled, growing by the minute. As they approached the city, she pointed out the Tower of the Americas, a tall needlelike structure that had been erected in the sixties for the Hemisfair. San Antonio was a city of landmarks, historic and new. They flew over old missions, a new stadium and the curving river that defined San Antonio’s image.
When they landed, then exited the plane, Cindy was still pumped. “If I were you, I’d fly every day.” Her eyes widened. “We could fly to the monthly board meetings in Houston instead of driving, couldn’t we?”
Amazed, Flynn stared at her. How could two sisters be so different? “You’d really want to do that?”
“Are you kidding? I’d ask you to fly me to the grocery store every day if there was a landing strip on Main Street.”
His laughter erupted on its own again. Before he’d moved to Rosewood, that had been such a rare action it was almost nonexistent. “I’ve rented a car. We can pick it up and head downtown.”
As they drove through the crowded streets, Cindy sadly noted the tall skyscrapers that surrounded the most famous of the city’s landmarks. Built as a mission, the Alamo was the shrine of Texas independence.
“Do you know that when I was a little kid, I think I was about five, my parents brought us to see the Alamo. At that time, it stood all alone, no other buildings around it. I remember thinking it must be the biggest, most magnificent building in the world.” She pointed to the mall and office structures that now dwarfed the symbol of the Lone Star state. “It seems sad somehow that all this commercialism has ruined that. When I toured the mission for the first time, the man in charge told us it was a shrine and cautioned us to be quiet. It was easy because there couldn’t have been more than a dozen people inside. The last time I tried to visit the Alamo, hundreds of people were squeezed inside, so many that you couldn’t even move. Again, the man outside gave the same instructions. Why I’m not sure, because once we were inside, with that many people there was more pandemonium than I imagine they had during the actual last days of the Alamo. I could have cried for what was lost, what would never be again.”
Flynn could understand exactly how she felt, he’d had similar experiences. But the vision of Cindy crying over a lost historical landmark moved him beyond measure. Again, he wondered, who was this mercurial woman?
When he didn’t comment, she angled her face. “Gives a new meaning to ‘Remember the Alamo’ though, doesn’t it?”
“Tell you what. I know the Riverwalk’s changed, but at least the river’s still there. You game?”
She sighed, a purely feminine response. “I have to warn you, once I get there, you may have to drag me away.”
“I’ll chance it.”
After parking the car, they crossed the street. Reaching a stairwell, they descended the stone steps. The famed Riverwalk, nestled below street level, lent European character to the distinctively Texas town. People were drawn to the “Venice of Texas” because it was the thread of the historical tapestry that was San Antonio. Deep roots of Spanish, Mexican and German heritage made the town unique and ripe with charm.
The Riverwalk wasn’t as crowded as it would be in the coming summer days. Still, couples strolled the old riverbank. Once a secluded, little-known area, it was now a tourist mecca with sidewalk cafés, boutiques, gift shops and galleries. “As long as we’re reminiscing, I can remember when there was only one restaurant on the Riverwalk.”
“The Casa Rio near the stairs at the end of the sidewalk that goes up to Commerce Street,” Cindy agreed. “The oldest restaurant on the Riverwalk.”
“You’ve been there?” he asked in surprise.
“My dad brought me here. I was the one who loved traveling, so I went along when Mom and Julia wanted to stay home. He and I visited La Villita. Back then it was more authentic, not just touristy, and we watched the old glassblower. I remember wondering how he could blow that fiery glass all day, especially when it was so hot outside, but then he blew the most beautiful clear glass ship. And my dad bought it for me. I know it’s silly, but I believed that with that ship as my good-luck piece, I could sail around the world.”
“The one in your curio cabinet,” Flynn suddenly remembered. “It’s on a shelf by itself, right at eye level.”
She nodded. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“It’s an unusual talisman,” he replied.
“I suppose so.” Cindy sighed. “After Mom and Dad passed away, Julia couldn’t stand to look at it, so I packed the ship away and didn’t take it out until I moved to Rosewood.”
Flynn suddenly wondered why they’d all tiptoed around Julia. Probably because she was so delicate, so seemingly fragile. Her own trepidation had made them capitulate to her needs, he realized. Not because she wanted to manipulate them, but because she could never escape the fear.
And that he understood. Fear, even one as old as his own, never disappeared. It always lurked around the edges, threatening to erupt, to maim again. Yet Cindy hadn’t shared the insecurity with Julia.
“How is it you escaped all the pain Julia felt?”
Cindy’s eyes filled with wisdom and acceptance. “I didn’t. But I learned to deal with it instead of hiding, and that’s being truthful rather than critical. It’s not as though Julia wanted to be frightened. But for me, I felt I’d faced the worst I ever could. I found comfort in my faith, but Julia had a harder time accepting God’s will.”
Flynn frowned. “Julia didn’t even go to church.”
“She used to. Even though she still agonized over losing Mom and Dad, she was still attending until she met you.”
Shocked, Flynn stared at her. “That can’t be true.”
Cindy shrugged. “You offered her security, safety, stability. She thought she needed that more at the time.”
“Doesn’t say much for me, does it?” he asked wryly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that! Julia loved you.”
Maybe so. And maybe she really had only needed what he had to offer. But Flynn put the thoughts out of his mind as they climbed the steps, paused at the arches that crossed over the river, looking down into the water, the slow-moving boats. The Arneson River Theater still remained on the now fully developed Riverwalk. Once the amphitheater had been one of only a handful of structures.
Despite the commercialization of the quaint spot, it was still incredibly romantic. As evening approached, lights hung up and down the banks illuminated, strings of fairy lights that twinkled over the brackish water.
“There’s nothing like dusk on Paseo del Rio,” Cindy murmured, using the Spanish name for the Riverwalk.
He glanced at Cindy, seeing the reflection of the lights on her brilliant hair and sparkling eyes. “No, there’s not.”
By mutual accord, they strolled to the end of the walk, seeking out the restaurant they’d been to as children. They were escorted to a table beside the water.
“It looks just like it did when I was five,” Cindy marveled. “Busier, of course. But unchanged.”
It was a new memory, Flynn thought without warning. One they didn’t share with Julia. Only each other and a good part of their pasts. And that was remarkable for him.
As they had only a few times since Flynn’s move to Rosewood, they enjoyed a few hours unaffected by what usually lay between them. The food was as they’d remembered, but the conversation wasn’t.
Flynn admitted that he still wasn’t sure about the move to Rosewood, also admitted that it had been made reluctantly.
And Cindy finally confessed that she still wondered why he’d made the choice, that it made her distrustful.
They were huge confessions for two such guarded people. But the admissions allowed some of the tension between them to dissipate.
Cindy’s finger rimmed the moisture that formed on her glass of iced tea. “Thanks for bringing me here, Flynn. I’ve loved everything—the flight, bringing back old memories, even my enchiladas.”
He had, too. But it wasn’t in Flynn to admit that. “I wanted to say thank you. For the girls’ birthday party, taking us in, everything.”
She shrugged. “There’s no need to thank me. I did it because I wanted to. That’s why I work with my Rainbow kids. They give me back so much more than I can do for them.”
“You never told me how you got into that.”
Explaining, Cindy’s face took on that rare softness he’d glimpsed, but when she spoke of what she would do to protect them, she grew equally fierce.
“Isn’t it kind of unusual for a church to take on a project like that?” Flynn questioned.
“I’m not really sure,” Cindy replied. “I was the one who formed the group, with the kids I just told you about. They’re kids who need extra care and attention for more reasons than I can name. The church just lets me use space in the Sunday school building.”
“This was your idea?”
“Yeah. The kids needed someone. I had lots of time and energy to give.”
“Still…”
“Why me?” she asked wryly. “Doesn’t fit your picture of me, does it?”
Nothing did anymore. “It just seems like a lot for one woman to tackle.”
“No one else was stepping up to bat.”
“But why you?”
She smiled. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
He stared at her in silence, a thousand questions begging to be voiced. Instead he asked the waiter for the bill. Once he’d settled it, they strolled back down the sidewalk, watching boats gliding by, hearing the gentle slosh of the water as it lapped against the riverbank.
Angling his head, he saw the wistfulness on Cindy’s face as she looked at the boats. “Why don’t we take a ride on one?”
Her smile surfaced. “Do we have time?”
“You’re the one who made the arrangements for the girls with Katherine. Do you think she’d mind if we’re about an hour later?”
Grin widening, she shook her head, pulling a cell phone from a side pocket in her purse. “We can call and let her know.”
Cindy quickly phoned Katherine as they entered the short line for the next boat, and soon were on board. Since it was still late spring, a cool breeze skipped through the air, disguising the hot, humid days of summer that were just ahead.
The San Antonio River wound through the business district of the town, crisscrossed by quaint curved bridges, the banks beautifully landscaped with native plants.
The ride down the river was near magical, the strings of tiny white lights providing a romantic, winsome background. Overhanging tree branches reached out across the river, teasing but not quite touching the passing boats. Another new memory, Flynn realized. One as unexpected as the first.
Glancing over, he saw Cindy’s gaze on his. But seeing him, she looked away, her porcelain skin pale against the deepening night. So different, he thought again. But this time it wasn’t a disquieting thought, rather one that intrigued.
Water continued to lap against the sides of the boat, a gentle thrumming that echoed beneath the overhanging walkways, one that whispered to his thoughts.
It seemed the ride ended too quickly. Flynn was reluctant as he stepped from the boat. The allure of the surroundings made him want to take Cindy’s hand, to linger, to discover more.
But her expression was rueful as she glanced at her watch. “Katherine will be expecting us soon.”
It was ridiculous to be so disappointed. It was only a thank-you dinner, he reminded himself. Yet the thoughts that had begun on the boat echoed as they flew home.
It wasn’t a long flight, yet the plane was incredibly intimate in the dark night.
“The lights from the homes and buildings look so snug and cozy, secured for the night,” Cindy said softly. “I love that feeling, that all’s right with the world.”
Flynn’s voice was quiet, not wanting to provoke the unique moment. “But you can’t know that.”
“No, but I can hope it’s true.”
He glanced over at her. “I suppose so,” he replied, settling for the words even though hope hadn’t been in his own vocabulary for many years. The clear night sky stretched out before them, the evening darkening, the wonder growing.
Chapter Twelve
N early three weeks later, Cindy still thought often of their evening in San Antonio, the unspoken repercussions. She and Flynn had shared an uneasy truce since then, but Cindy held no illusions. Nearly every day Flynn went to the construction site of the house he was building. It seemed to her that he wanted to leave her house as soon as possible.
Before he did though, she wanted to be sure the girls had a good religious foundation. Thus every afternoon, like today, she blended songs and stories with a biblical theme into their music lesson time.
Cindy was thrilled that the triplets were still excited about the instruments she had given them. She had taught them some basic notes, which they practiced faithfully. Using her own methods, Cindy picked out simple notes on the piano while the girls followed along. Now they played often in the evenings and also with the Rainbow class.
“The Jesus song,” Mandy requested, her shorthand version of “Jesus Loves Me.”
When they finished the song, Cindy clapped her hands. “That was wonderful! When your mommy and I were little girls that was our favorite song.”
Beth screwed her always inquisitive face into a question mark. “Where’s my mommy?”
Although both she and Flynn had tried to explain this before, it was too much for the children to understand. “You know what, there’s a book that I’d like to read to you, about a little girl.”
She read them the story of a young girl whose mother had died. The girl looked and looked everywhere for her mother and asked everyone she met where her mother was. But no one knew. Until she went to church.
“Was she there?” Beth asked.
“No, but that’s when she learned her mommy had gone to Heaven. Just like your mommy.”
“Is it nice there?” Mandy asked.
“Yes, because all the people your mommy loved were there, waiting to greet her. She’d missed her mommy and daddy, too, and was very happy to see them.” Cindy’s eyes misted, her own longing for her lost family never completely at bay.
“Did they hug her?” Alice asked, concern in her tiny face.
“So much, it probably shook up a storm,” Cindy replied, smiling at the image.
“I’m happy Mommy’s in heaven,” Beth finally concluded.
Still smiling, Cindy glanced up. But her happy expression drained away as she encountered Flynn’s furious face. He must have come in while she had been absorbed in telling the story. “Flynn,” she greeted him quietly.
“Mommy’s in heaven,” Mandy told him with cheerful confidence.
“You girls go into the kitchen and get an apple,” Flynn told them with quiet authority.
“No more story?” Beth asked.
“No,” Flynn replied tightly. “No more stories.”
Once the girls were out of earshot, Flynn advanced. “What was that about?”
“They wanted to know where their mother is.”
“In the ground,” Flynn replied, with barely controlled anger.
And something deep, deep inside Cindy fractured. It no longer mattered if Flynn didn’t return her love, couldn’t see the person she now was. His lack of faith was even more painful than unrequited love. And something she could never, never compromise on. So she kept her silence.
“I thought I’d made myself clear. Don’t interfere with my children’s beliefs.”
“You want them to believe their mother is in the ground? That they have no possible hope of being reunited with her?”
“You’ve crossed the line.”
Cindy set her teeth, trying to restrain her own temper.
“I thought your Sunday school thing was strictly social. Since it’s not, that’s out.”
Shocked, she stared at him. “You can’t mean that!”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. You seem to keep forgetting that I’m their parent.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve never lost sight of that fact. But I think you have.”
The following days were so tense, Cindy considered going away for a while, leaving the house to Flynn. Then one of the girls would climb in her lap, and her resolve fled.
The rest of the week passed and when Sunday morning arrived, Cindy dressed for church. Once downstairs in the kitchen, she picked up her purse.
“Us go?” Beth asked, starting to scramble from her booster seat.
“Not today,” Flynn answered for her.
“Sunny school?” Mandy asked, seeing that Cindy was holding her Bible, as well.
Cindy glanced at Flynn, then nodded.
“I wanna go!” Beth wailed.
Alice and Mandy also tried to climb down from their booster seats. “Wait for us, Cinny!”
“You’ll have to talk to your daddy,” Cindy replied, pain wiping the color from her face.
Feeling as though she were betraying her sister, Cindy turned and fled. But before she could escape through the front door, she heard the girls’ voices rising in demand, then the beginning of sniffling cries. Cindy pressed her head against the door as she heard the cries increase to sobs.
Pulling back, it took all of her power to walk through the door, to not turn back around, confront Flynn and console the girls. But this was Flynn’s decision. Girding her strength, Cindy made her way to church, knowing she needed His help now more than ever.
Six days later, Flynn rubbed at the throbbing headache that had centered between his brows. He’d thought the previous Sunday had been bad with the girls crying and throwing tantrums because they wanted to go with Cindy to church. But the rest of the week was even worse. Every morning before work and each evening when he returned, the girls were at him, pleading to go back to “Sunny school.”
Flynn had been certain they would forget all about it within a day, two at the most. But they hadn’t forgotten. They repeated over and over again that they wanted to sing, and hear stories, and color and see their friends.
Now he was facing another Sunday morning of forcing the children to remain behind as they watched Cindy leave for church.
Picking up a bottle of aspirin, he quickly swallowed two, washing them down with one of Cindy’s organic juice blends.
He had two choices. He could insist on having things his way and create another round of chaos. Or he could let the girls attend church while they stayed with Cindy, then when they moved into their own house, he could let the habit fade away on its own.
It was his decision.
He pictured the onslaught of three pairs of eyes, ones that had been boring into him all week. And he knew he couldn’t withstand them any longer.
Knowing the girls were napping, Flynn sought out Cindy, guessing she had retreated to the quiet of the backyard. She had made a point of being anywhere he wasn’t the entire week.
He was right. She was in the far corner of the yard, alternately weeding the flower bed and stretching her hand between two loose boards in the fence to pet the neighbor’s dog.
Dispensing with small talk, he resisted the urge to rub at his throbbing forehead. “I’ve come to a decision.”
“Another one?”
He winced. She was still stubborn, still challenging. There was no bending, no complacency. Nothing except her incredible appeal to suggest she was the weaker sex. “While we are staying here, the girls can go with you to church.”
She turned around so that she could see him. “And afterward?”
“What difference does that make? They’re my children. I’ll do what I think is best for them.”
“No, actually you’re doing what you think is best for you.”
Flynn stopped short of throwing his hands in the air. “You can’t just win, can you? You have to win and have the last word.”
But there was no victory in her expression. Only sadness colored her brilliant green eyes. “You just don’t get it. Neither one of us wins.”
For a moment, Flynn could only stare at her. But he couldn’t believe that was true. He had dedicated himself to protecting his daughters, ensuring they would never suffer as he had. “It’s up to you, then,” he said finally.
“No,” she replied, her voice shaking. “This is your decision. I’ll take them with me in the morning only if you’ve told them they can go.”
Flynn turned away, unwilling to search her eyes again. That was far too painful. And equally hopeless.
Once inside the house, Flynn kept himself busy, going over some revised plans for the new house. He had an urgent need to finish the house, to move away from all the confusion he’d felt since staying in Cindy’s home. Closing his eyes, he could picture the disappointment in Cindy’s expression, the certainty that she disapproved.
It wasn’t up to her to approve or disapprove, he told himself righteously. Glancing toward the stairs, he thought of his innocent daughters still asleep. He would do anything to protect them, anything. And that’s what Cindy didn’t understand. He wasn’t keeping them from church to deprive them, rather to save them from the hurt he’d known. And now Cindy had put him in an untenable position. Hurt them by denying their attendance, or hurt them by letting them believe a delusion that could only lead to disappointment.
They were only three, Flynn reminded himself. Young enough to forget once they were in their own home. Glancing around, Flynn looked at the comfortable, cozy space Cindy had created. The girls would miss this, he realized. And in their young lives they’d been forced to miss too much already.
With leaden feet he stepped on the first riser. It was time to wake the girls. Time to tell them that he wouldn’t force this particular sacrifice right now, that they could go to church with “Cinny” in the morning.
But he made a second resolution, as well. From now on, he’d spend less time at his new office and more time with his girls. Because it had been easy, he’d allowed Cindy too much influence on them. It was time he took that back. Before it was too late.
In the following weeks, Cindy had taken an inventory of her own, as well. But before she could act on it, crisis struck.
One day she had gone to pick up Ricky for Rainbow class and had found an ambulance parked in front of the house. The young boy was crying as they loaded his mother into the ambulance.
Sweeping the child into her embrace, Cindy put him in her car, following the ambulance to the hospital. Using her cell phone, she alerted Katherine who promised to take the class for the day.
Once at the hospital, Cindy held Ricky’s hand as the doctors worked on his mother. The child clung to Cindy, terrified.
And when the doctor emerged from the room, his face was somber.
No, Cindy prayed. Don’t take this child’s only parent.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor began, looking first at Cindy, then down at young Ricky. “We knew it was inevitable. But we did try everything.”
“My mommy?” Ricky asked in a wavering voice.
Cindy knelt beside him, still clasping his hands. “Mommy’s in Heaven now with Jesus.”
“But I want her here with me!” Ricky shouted. “Not with Jesus!”
The tears came then, huge gulping sobs. Cindy pulled him close, holding his shaking body next to her, feeling her own tears wetting her cheeks, salting her lips. While they both cried for what Ricky had lost and could never regain, the doctor quietly moved away.
As Cindy smoothed the hair back from his forehead and searched her pocket for a tissue, Ricky finally spoke. “Why did she have to die?”
Cindy searched for the right words, but couldn’t find them. “I don’t know. She just got very sick.”
“Did she want to go to Heaven?”
Cindy felt her own heart breaking. “She didn’t want to leave you, but now her pain is all gone.”
“She won’t take no more pills?”
“No more.”
“She couldn’t breathe sometimes,” Ricky admitted, the tears thickening his young voice. “And she hurted.”
“Well, she doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Ricky nodded, then looked up again. “Where will I go, Miss Cindy?” His face crumpled. “I don’t have nobody.”
And in that instant, she made another binding and final decision. “Yes, you do. You have me. You’ll come and live with me.”
Tears still ran down his cheeks, wetting his T-shirt. “For how long?”
Forever, she thought to herself, if it was within her power. “For as long as you can. I think your mother would like that.”
He glanced back at the room that held his mother’s still body. Again his mouth trembled. “Mommy said you were the nicest lady she ever knew.”
Cindy’s own tears started again. “And your mother raised the nicest little boy in the world.” Clasping his hand, she led them down the hall.
Speaking quietly and briefly with the doctor, Cindy told them she was taking Ricky home with her and to notify the mortuary that she would be paying for the funeral.
Once back at her house, Katherine met her at the front door, having made sure the kids were playing out back, rather than inside.
Cindy knelt beside Ricky one more time. “I have to make some phone calls. Can you stay with Miss Katherine for a few minutes?”
Ricky didn’t want to release her hand, but finally nodded.
Katherine picked up his other hand. “Let’s have a glass of milk, okay? Miss Donna, one of the Sunday school teachers, and the other kids are in the yard and we can stay inside if you’d like.”
Again Ricky nodded, the motion wobbly and uncertain.
Katherine hugged him close, as well.
Cindy met her friend’s gaze, signaling her gratitude, before disappearing into the privacy of the conservatory. Quickly she called her attorney, who promised to notify child services and file an immediate petition for temporary custody along with her request for permanent adoption.
Then he hesitated. “Are you certain about this, Cindy? Permanent adoption?”
“Very certain,” she replied without hesitation. “Can you let me know if there’s any problem with the immediate permission to keep him?”
“I don’t anticipate any since there are no relatives. It was wise of you to investigate the family situation while his mother was alive and could give you the information, dismal as it is.” He hesitated. “This is a lot to take on, Cindy.”
“Not as much as a six-year-old who’s just lost his last living family member.”
The attorney rang off and Cindy contacted the mortuary, verifying that she was paying for the funeral, also requesting that everything be elegant but tasteful.
Drained, Cindy sat back in her chair, her heart breaking for this small child.
Hearing a noise at the doorway, she glanced up, meeting Flynn’s curious expression. True to the resolve he’d informed her of, Flynn had been returning home from work in the early afternoons, determined to be a bigger part of the triplets’ upbringing.
“Why is it so quiet?” he asked, entering the room.
She didn’t answer at first.
Flynn’s own expression turned downward as he examined her pale face. “Has there been an accident? Are the girls all right? Are—”
“They’re fine,” she said finally, her voice as low as her spirits.
“Then what is it?”
“Ricky Dunn’s mother died today.”
Flynn drew his brows together. “The little kid in your class that’s always stirring something up?”
“Yes, that would be him.”
“Tough break,” Flynn sympathized. “Did you cancel the class today out of respect?”
She shook her head. “The kids are in the backyard. Katherine and Donna took over.”
“Oh. Well, I can see why it’d be hard for you today.”
She met his gaze. “That’s not the reason.” Briefly she explained how she’d come to be at Ricky’s house, then the hospital.
“Where is he now?” Flynn questioned. “With the grandparents?”
Again she shook her head. “He’s remarkably like you and me, Flynn. He has no other family.”
Shocked, he stared at her. “This little kid doesn’t have anybody?”
“Not exactly. He has me.”
“Well, that’s fine on a temporary basis—”
“You don’t understand, Flynn. It’s not temporary.”
“You’re taking this child in to raise?”
She nodded. “He needs me.”
“You plan on taking in every other orphan in the state?”
“I probably would if it were possible. But I don’t know them as I do Ricky. And I won’t let him grow up without a single person to watch out for him.”
Flynn drew his brows together. “You mean you’re going to adopt him?”
“What would you have me do, Flynn? Turn him over to strangers who don’t care about him? A child who just lost the mother he cherished, and who has no one else?”
“Well, no, but you’ve never had kids of your own and—”
She ignored the sharp if unintentional barb of his comment. “Maybe not. But this isn’t a game to me, Flynn. I know you still see me as a scatterbrained twenty-one-year-old with thoughts of only parties and fun. Well, yes, I did like parties and I did like having fun. But that wasn’t all there was to me then. And it certainly isn’t all there is to me now. I intend to give this wonderful little boy a home. I’m raw, knowing the pain he’s suffering, but I’m also grateful I can be here for him now, that the Lord gave me this opportunity.”
Confusion settled over the surprise in his face. “You really see it that way? As an opportunity?”
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “I do. Flynn, we’ve both known our share of loss, we know how it feels to be the one left behind. Can you imagine how it would be if you were only a child?”
He blanched, something Cindy had never seen, not even at Julia’s funeral.
“Flynn?”
Pulling himself back to the moment, he met her gaze. “Yes, maybe I can. Where’s Ricky now?”
“In the kitchen with Katherine.” She glanced down at the phone. “I wanted to be alone while I talked to my lawyer and then the funeral home.”
He nodded. “Do you want me to clear the girls out for a while? I could take them to Houston for a visit, let you have some space.”
Knowing the offer was sincere, she felt only gratitude despite its misplaced intent. “No. Actually, I think it would be good for Ricky to have them around. He already feels so alone.”
Flynn again looked at her questioningly. “What happened to his father? Were they divorced?”
“No. He died when Ricky was a baby.”
Unconsciously, Flynn winced. “And you’re sure there aren’t any grandparents?”
“All gone. His father had one sister who died in childhood. His mother was an only child. You know the equation, Flynn. It’s just like our own.”
Flynn glanced in the direction of the kitchen, even though it couldn’t be seen from the confines of the conservatory. “How old did you say he was?”
“Six.”
For a moment Flynn’s jaw worked. Then he nodded.
And silence stood between them for several long moments.
Flynn lifted his head at last. “What can I do to help?”
Unbelievably touched, Cindy couldn’t stop the tears that suddenly erupted, the trembling of her lips. Blinded by the onslaught, she didn’t see Flynn walk around the library table until he stood in front of her. Then his arms were around her, holding her close, offering the comfort she hadn’t experienced since before the loss of her parents.
The stiffness of her shock cracked as she laid her head on Flynn’s sturdy shoulder and let the tears flow. Tears for all their losses. Things that could never be made right again.
Flynn’s hand was gentle as he stroked the back of her head, and for just the moment she gave in to the need to remain like that, buffeted from all the pain that was ahead. Pain made worse by the fact that he couldn’t shelter her from the biggest loss, that of his love. And again she issued the same silent prayer she had been repeating for weeks, that the Lord would soften Flynn’s heart and show him the path back to his faith.
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