Urgent Vows. Joyce Sullivan
Mommy? I want Mommy! Now! My hair’s caught—and it hurts!” Hope heard the gasping windup of a sob in the making.
Quinn was patient, his voice strained, his body blocking Hope’s view of his daughter. “Mommy’s not here, Mel-Mel. But I am. Now hold still so I can get your hair untangled and get you out of this car seat. Who designs these things anyway— Kyle, ouch! Those are my ribs, pal. If you keep kicking like that, I’m going to drop you and you’ll get hurt.”
Melanie let loose a torrent of agonized howls as if to point out that she, unlike her brother, was in actual pain and must be dealt with immediately.
Afghan in hand, Hope offered to help.
Quinn backed out of the car and straightened, then sagged against the side of the vehicle, Kyle still trying to twist himself free from the restraint of his father’s forearm. Quinn’s relief was obvious. His expression held a tightly reined desperation that shook Hope to the core. “Maybe you could loosen Mel’s hair for me and I’ll take the kick-boxer inside. He sorely needs a diaper change. Then we can talk?”
“Mm-hmm.” Hope grasped one of Kyle’s sturdy little feet and dredged up her brightest smile, her nose wrinkling at the indelicate odor wafting from the toddler’s clothing. “Hi! You must be Kyle. I’ve got a rainbow blanket to warm you up. Have you ever been hugged by a rainbow?”
Blue-gray eyes, ringed with black lashes, widened beneath finely drawn wisps of brows. Hope experienced a pang of envy. Kyle’s hair was as dark as his father’s. Tousled curls framed his rounded brow where a boo-boo was healing. The toddler stilled almost instantly as she tucked the blanket firmly around his warm, compact body and the iron-hard band of Quinn’s arm. “There, nice and cozy now, aren’t you?”
“Thanks,” Quinn murmured. Hope felt her cheeks heat as his measuring gaze slid over her. It was not the sort of look she expected a father of two to brandish about—unless he was divorced?
Another howl from Melanie, this one, degrees more pitiful than the first, had Hope crawling into the toy-littered car, which smelled like new upholstery, male cologne, Kyle’s soiled diaper, and spilt apple juice, toward a three-year-old with chocolate-brown eyes and silky amber hair that fell in angel curls past the shoulders of her heart-dotted purple sweat suit. “My goodness, Melanie,” she intoned softly, giving the little girl a chance to get accustomed to her and her voice. “You poor lamb, looks like you’ve got your fleece all caught up in this funny-looking fence. My name’s Hope. Would it be all right with you if I untangle you?”
Melanie sniffled, and after a moment’s hesitation demanded, “What’s feece?”
“It’s a sheep’s hair.”
Melanie stretched a hand up to Hope’s face and stroked the hair at her temple, her touch soft and tentative. “Are you a fairy? Mommy says fairies wear flowers in their hair.”
Flowers? What was she talking about…? Oh, good heavens! Hope followed Melanie’s fingers, her face reddening when she found a spray of baby’s breath still lingering in her hair from the fiasco of her wedding. She pulled out the flowers and handed them to Melanie.
“No, I’m not a fairy,” she said lightly. “Just always a fiancée. But my friend the robin told me I’d be having a little lamb come for a visit tonight so I was saving it for you.”
Melanie beamed.
“We’ll put it in your hair after we get you free.” Hope expertly manipulated the straps and the release button of the car seat, then made short work of the snarl that had caused all the ruckus and tucked the delicate white flowers behind Melanie’s left ear. “Lovely.”
“I’m always a fiancée, too.”
Hope rolled her eyes and lifted the little girl out of her car seat to help her on with the bubble-gum-pink jacket she found on the front passenger seat beside a smaller navy jacket with red and yellow stripes on the sleeves, and a diaper bag. A quick glance over her shoulder toward the house told her Quinn was letting himself in the front door.
Hope grabbed Kyle’s jacket and slipped the diaper bag over her shoulder, then reached for Melanie’s hand. “Come on. It’s much too cold to let a little lamb like you frolic in the fields. How about you come in the house for a snack while I talk to your daddy?”
“Daddy’s here?”
To Hope’s surprise, Melanie’s eyes filled with tears. She wondered if the preschooler was afraid Quinn had left without telling her so.
“Your daddy’s in the house, lamb. With Kyle. And we’d better hurry because any second he’s going to figure out he forgot the diapers in the car.”
Melanie’s face transformed into a wreath of smiles. She scampered up the front walk at full tilt, calling out, “Daddy! Daddy! I’m here! I knew you weren’t dead!”
What on earth? Hope’s blood ran cold. Had she heard correctly? She hurried after Melanie as fast as her high heels would allow her.
Melanie yanked on the screen door as Quinn opened the front door. Melanie latched on to his legs. “Oh, Daddy! You’re not dead.”
Quinn seemed to stagger under her assault. The flash of pain that whitened his features and turned his eyes into gray pits of agony halted Hope in her tracks on the porch steps. Even as Quinn was pulling Melanie up into his arms and cradling her tightly against his chest, she knew who these children were. Tears blurred her eyes as Quinn said raggedly, “Oh, baby. I’m Uncle Quinn. Not Daddy. Daddy’s dead. I’m so sorry.”
Melanie’s face twisted, and a heart-wrenching sound echoed from her throat.
Hope’s heart felt as if it were being punctured by her ribs. The poor darling lamb! Her hand fluttered to her mouth as Melanie turned brown eyes glaring with accusation at her.
“You lied. You said Daddy was here.”
Hope’s voice trembled. “Oh, sweetie. I didn’t know. I thought he was your daddy. I’m so sorry I upset you. I hope you can forgive me.”
Melanie’s lower lip jutted out belligerently.
Quinn pressed a kiss on his niece’s cheek. “It’s not her fault, Mel-Mel. Kyle woke up before I could tell Hope why we’re here.”
Melanie fingered the baby’s breath in her hair. “Does this mean I’m not always a fancy eater?”
Quinn’s brow crinkled. “Huh?”
Hope leapt to his rescue. “Never mind. It’s a girl thing. Of course, lamb. You’re a fairy fiancée. Now how about that snack I promised? Poor Kyle must really be feeling the need for a clean diaper about now.” She handed Quinn the diaper bag.
“I don’t wear diapers,” Melanie announced in a superior tone. “I’m not a baby.”
“Kyle?” Quinn whirled around and strode into the house, Melanie still clutched in his arms, the diaper bag banging against his thighs. “Oh God. I forgot about him.” He turned toward the small downstairs bedroom Hope used for a change room and her kids’ cubby holes.
“He’s not there,” Hope said, hearing the tinkling of toy piano keys. “He’s in the playroom—the big room right off the kitchen.”
She paused a second to kick off her pumps and rooted through the toy-crowded closet for a pair of the knitted slippers she kept for guests. Her regular slippers were packed in her suitcase and there was no time to unpack them.
She’d just eased her cold, pinched toes into the second slipper when a deep groan reached her ears from the playroom.
“Oh, buddy!”
Hope padded down the hall into the kitchen. When she saw the naked toddler and the suspicious network of puddles that streaked her kitchen floor like the canals of Venice, she sternly told herself that things could be a lot worse. She could be spending her wedding night with a man who didn’t want