Man of His Word. Cynthia Reese
fertilize it some more, and then we rotate out our crops. We try to do everything pretty much organic here—better for the land. My dad...my dad was a big believer in being a good steward to the land. It’s how he would have wanted us to continue.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his face became closed off. Kimberly wasn’t exactly sure what to say—it was obvious from Daniel’s tone and use of the past tense that the one person who wouldn’t be here was his father.
They had that in common, then...although Daniel’s father probably wasn’t a ne’er-do-well who spent more time in jail than on the streets like her dad, who had finally died in a prison knife fight. No, Kimberly decided as she slid out of the truck onto the carefully tended lawn—Daniel’s family seemed to be a different kettle of fish altogether.
They had parked around back, and Kimberly could see that the lawn around the back deck and tall white privacy fence was filled with cars and trucks—had to be nearly a dozen. Children scampered around the deck in swimsuits and shorts. A loud screech followed a sudden splash of water.
“Sean Robert Anderson! You are dead! D-E-A-D, do you hear me?” a woman yelled. “Because now that I’m good and wet, there’s no reason for me not to jump in and drown you, now, is there?”
A smaller splash signaled someone had gone in after the unfortunate soon-to-be-deceased Sean Robert.
“Wait, no— Aunt Cara, it was an accident. I swear— No, not the tickles, not—”
Laughter spilled out over the fence with its carefully tended rosebushes—not just from the boy and his aunt, but other people, too. For a moment, Kimberly was frozen in place by a potent mix of feeling wistful and bashful.
Daniel had gone on ahead, but must have sensed that she was no longer beside him. He turned, grinned and crooked his finger. “C’mon. I promise. They’re loud, but they don’t bite.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the way he’d beckoned her to come. Silly. But for a moment, she wished that he was more than just a polite guy with a secret or two to hide.
A screen door squawked open at the back of the house, off the deck. “Daniel? Did she and the girl come?”
It was Daniel’s mother, wearing an apron, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Around her still more kids spilled out.
“I wanna see the baby! Can I see her?” a towheaded boy of about six asked.
Another, an older sister by the resemblance, rolled her eyes. “Logan, it’s not a baby. She’s my age. Uncle Daniel found her when she was a baby.”
Logan looked disappointed, then confused. “So why didn’t he keep her?”
By now, Daniel’s mother had cut the distance to Kimberly and Marissa in half. Kimberly’s feet started moving to the woman of their own volition—she found it impossible to resist her warm, welcoming smile and the twinkle in her eyes.
“It’s good to see you again!” his mother said in way of greeting, as if they were long-lost family members, not perfect strangers. “Thank you so much for coming out to eat with us—it’s not fancy, now, just plain fixin’s. And be sure to call me Ma, everybody does. If you call me anything else, I might not answer.”
“Thank you.” Kimberly’s tongue couldn’t wrap itself around any other words, but it didn’t matter, because in all the noise and laughter, Colleen Monroe didn’t seem to notice. She just put one arm around Kimberly shoulders, and the other around Marissa’s, and guided them to the deck.
“Hey, there,” Logan’s big sister said to Marissa. “I’m Taylor. You bring a swimsuit? No? Well, we look about the same size, and I’ve got a spare. What do you have on that iPod? Want to see my playlists?”
And with that, Marissa would have been gone without so much as a backward glance if Ma hadn’t hollered after her, “Marissa, honey, you have any food allergies?”
Taylor rolled her eyes again. “Ma! Just because I have food allergies doesn’t mean you have to—”
“I will always ask, young lady. And besides, I saw the medical ID bracelet on Marissa’s wrist. I want my food to be safe for everybody.”
But there was no sting in those words—in either of their responses. It wasn’t the vicious power struggle that Kimberly remembered between her and her mother, and she’d never really known her grandparents.
Marissa shook her head. “No. No food allergies.”
“Great! Y’all go on, have a good time.” Ma turned again to Kimberly. “Don’t mind me asking Marissa instead of you, but around here, we’re trying to get Taylor to be the one in charge of her food allergies—peanuts and corn, of all things.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. Personal responsibility about your health is a really big thing for me,” Kimberly said as she followed Ma into the kitchen.
If outside was noisy, in the kitchen it was pure bedlam. Every counter was full of in-progress meal prep, with two women working alongside still more kids. They greeted her with distracted but warm hellos and introductions, and then someone pressed a bunch of carrots and a peeler in her hands. Before she knew it, Kimberly had forgotten to be shy and had fallen right into working beside them.
And she loved it. Here, she felt respect and family love radiate out and wash over her. The teasing, the joshing, the inside jokes—things she swore normally would have made her feel more alien instead made her feel as though she could fade securely into the background and absorb it all just by osmosis.
As she was finishing up the carrots and turning to ask if they should be sliced, diced or shredded, she felt a tug on her pants. She looked down to see the towheaded boy staring up at her.
“You’re pretty,” he said. “Are you gonna be Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend? Because his last one wasn’t nearly so pretty as you.”
“Uh, Logan, I, uh—”
“Nope, I’m Landon, can’t you tell? I’m bigger than Logan. ’Cause I was first, so that means I’m oldest. So are you? Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend?”
Thoroughly flummoxed by how identical the boy was to his brother and by his question, which had been issued in a rare moment of quiet in the kitchen, Kimberly stared around for help. DeeDee, the little boy’s mom, had stepped out to check on the meat on the grill. The other women could barely smother their amusement. To her chagrin, she saw Daniel himself had come in. He leaned against the doorjamb, an amused smile playing on his lips as he waited for her answer.
She stuttered it out. “No, no, I’m not, Landon. Your uncle is just a... Well, he’s a...”
What was Daniel to her? She locked eyes with him, feeling a strange buzz of connection. Already he was more than the stranger she’d met that morning. He’d been the man who’d saved her daughter, and didn’t that mean he was more to them than some random Joe Blow?
Daniel took pity on her. “I hope she and Marissa will be my friends, Landon. Wouldn’t that be good? To have a new friend?”
“She’d be better as a girlfriend. Mama said you needed a girlfriend, and so I figured maybe you were gonna mind her, you know, like you say I need to mind Mama?”
Just then, Landon’s mother stepped back inside with a platter full of grilled pork chops, her face beet-red. “Landon Anderson! If you’re going to ‘mind’ me, then maybe you should do a better job listening when I tell you to lay off the personal questions!”
“It wasn’t personal, Mama! It wasn’t about the bathroom or how much she weighs or—”
“Come on, bud.” Daniel held out his arms. “I think it’s time we hightailed it out of here—what do you say about a ride on my shoulders? Let’s go find out what your uncle Rob and uncle Andrew are up to, huh, buddy?”
“Daniel! You’re