A Family For Tory And A Mother For Cindy. Margaret Daley
flung her hand across the water one last time, sending it spewing up toward her father. “I’m—stuck—Dad-dy.”
While the last spray of water rolled in rivulets down his face, Slade’s mocking scowl crumbled into a look of concern. He hurried forward to pick up Mindy.
The little girl held up her hand. “Help—me—st-and.”
The water lapped over Slade’s tennis shoes as he took his daughter’s arm and assisted her to her feet. He whispered something into Mindy’s ear, then she said something to Laurie.
When they all faced Tory at the side of the pond, soaking wet while she was dry, her laughter died on her lips. “Okay, what are you all up to?”
“Nothing,” Slade said, all three of them heading toward Tory with determination in their expressions.
She backed up, her heart beginning to race. The feeling of being cornered suddenly swamped her. “Stop right there.”
No one did. Sweat popped out on Tory’s forehead. Her heartbeat accelerated even more. She continued to step away from the trio while trying to tamp down her fear. But she couldn’t control the trembling that shook her body, nor the perspiration rolling down her face. Tory’s gaze flitted from the group to the area around her. That was when she realized she was standing at the edge of the pond in some tall weeds, her tennis shoes stuck in the mud.
Slade stopped, putting his arm out to halt Mindy and Laurie. “Girls, she’s our ticket back to the barn. We’d better take mercy on her.” He clasped Mindy’s shoulder. “And speaking of the barn, we need to gather everything up. Laurie has to be home by five and we’ll need to take care of our horses before we leave.”
“Aw, Dad-dy.”
“Scoot.” He turned Mindy toward the blanket and prodded her gently forward. When the children were halfway to the blanket and out of earshot, he asked, “Are you all right?”
His questioning probe drilled through Tory’s defenses she’d thrown up. The beat of her heart slowed as she brought the gripped towel up to wipe her face. “Other than my shoes caked with mud, yes.”
He took a step toward her.
She tensed.
He halted, his gaze softening. “Thank you for inviting us this afternoon.”
Tory blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation. Relieved by it, she offered a tentative smile and said, “You’re welcome. Maybe Mindy can bring Laurie out some other time to ride with her.”
“May I use one of those towels?” He held his hand out to her but didn’t move any closer.
She looked down at the towels each crushed into a ball in her hands. A blush heated her cheeks. “Yes.” After tossing one to him, she released her death grip on the other one and relaxed her tense muscles.
Slade wiped his face, then slung the towel over his shoulder and started back toward the blanket at a slow pace. Tory pulled her feet from the mud and followed behind him, her shoes making a squishing sound that announced her arrival. The two girls giggled when they saw her.
She put her hands on her waist. “At least I don’t look like two drowned rats. Here. Use this to clean up.” Grinning, Tory flung the towel toward Mindy, then sank down by the basket to repack it.
She’d overreacted at the edge of the pond. The children and Slade were only trying to include her in their playfulness. Mindy was important to her and Slade was important to the little girl. She would have to learn to relax better around him because if she was truthful with herself, she’d enjoyed herself today. For a brief time she’d experienced again what it must be like to have a family.
“Glad—Dad-dy out—of town.” Mindy took a big lick of her chocolate ice cream.
Tory sat next to the little girl on the porch swing, taking her own lick of her single-scoop ice-cream cone. “You are? Why?”
“Miss—you.”
Her simple words tugged at Tory’s heart, making her eyes glisten. “I missed you, too. I’m glad you got to spend last night with me.” She bit into her cone, the crunching sound filling the silence.
Mindy shifted so she could look up at Tory. “Me—too.”
“How’s Mrs. Davies? You haven’t said anything about your new housekeeper.”
The little girl pinched her mouth together. “Don’t—like.”
“How come?”
“Mean.” Mindy twisted back around and licked her ice cream, her shoulders hunched, her gaze intent on a spot on the ground.
“Why do you say she’s mean?” Her stomach knotted with concern, Tory placed her ice-cream cone on the glass table next to the swing.
Mindy wouldn’t look at her. She continued to eat her ice cream, her head down, her shoulders scrunched even more as though she were drawing in on herself.
“Mindy?” Tory slid from the swing and knelt in front of the girl. Lifting the child’s chin, Tory asked, “What’s happened?”
Tears welled in Mindy’s eyes. “She—doesn’t—like me.”
Desperate to keep her voice calm, Tory took the child’s napkin and wiped the chocolate from her face. “Why do you say that?”
“She—likes—to—uh—yell.” Her tears fell onto her lap. “Told—some—one on—phone—I’m—a cri-crip-pled—uh—re-tard.”
Tory pried the ice cream cone from Mindy’s trembling fingers and laid it alongside hers on the glass table, then she scooped the child into her arms and held her tight against her. “You aren’t, sweetie. You’re a precious little girl who I admire and think is remarkable.”
“You—do?” Mindy mumbled against Tory’s chest.
Tory pulled back and cupped the child’s tear-stained face. “You’re such a courageous person. Not many people could have done what you’ve done as well. Look how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time.”
Another tear slipped from Mindy’s eye, then another. “I—love—you.”
Tory’s heart stopped beating for a split second, then began to pound a quick beat against her chest. Her own tears rose and filled her eyes. “I love you, too.” She drew the child to her, kissing the top of her head, the apple-fresh scent of Mindy’s shampoo permeating the air. “Have you told your father about Mrs. Davies?”
Mindy shook her head.
“He needs to know how you feel.”
“She—was—the six-th—one—he—talked to. Hard—to find.”
“Still, he needs to know. I can say something to him if you want.”
Mindy straightened, knuckling away the tears. “Yes!” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes round. “Look.” Pointing to the table, she giggled.
Melted chocolate ice cream pooled on the glass surface, nearly blanketing the whole table. Tory laughed, too. “I think we made a mess. I’ll go get something to clean it up with.”
Tory hurried into the house and unrolled some paper towels, then retrieved a bottle of glass cleaner from under the sink. She started for the porch. The phone ringing halted her steps.
Snatching up the receiver, she said, “Hello.”
“Tory, this is Slade. How’s it going?”
The warm sound of his deep, baritone voice flowed through her. Trying to ignore the slight racing of her heart, she answered, “Fine. Are you back?”
“Yes. I thought I would pick up some pizzas for dinner. What do you think?”
“Pizzas