Читать книгу A Family for Tory and A Mother for Cindy: A Family for Tory / A Mother for Cindy - Margaret Daley - Страница 12

Slade sprinted forward. Tory whirled around, her heart thumping against her chest. Mindy had fallen at the edge of the pond and now sat waist-deep in the water. Her scream of surprise turned to giggles as Laurie plopped down beside her and began splashing her.

Slade slowed to a jog. The tension in his body eased. Tory scooped up two kitchen towels she’d brought, the only thing she had to dry off the girls with, and hurried after Slade, thanking God the whole way that the children were all right.

When Slade halted near Mindy, she paused in her water fight with Laurie, looked at her friend, then they both began pelting Slade. The astonishment on his face made Tory laugh. She stood back from the girls, out of their reach, trying to contain her laughter. She couldn’t.

Slade stepped back, tossing a glance over his shoulder at Tory. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Miss Alexander.” Water dripped from his face and hair, soaking his shirt. Beneath his mocked exasperation his eyes danced with amusement.

“Yes, I am.” Tory brought her hand up to cover her mouth, but her laughter still leaked out.

Slade huffed. “Melinda Marie Donaldson, you need to get out of that pond right this minute.”

“Oh, Mindy, you’re in big trouble. Your dad used your full name.” Laurie stood.

Mindy 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 as in plural?”

“Yep. Since we all like different kinds.”

The implication of his words struck her. Over the past month she and Slade had gotten to know each other well—their likes and dislikes. She was even able to relax around him. “Sure. Mindy will be glad you’re home early.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

When Tory hung up, her hand lingered on the receiver. When had Slade Donaldson become such a good friend? The question took her by surprise. Their relationship had changed quickly, something that further surprised her. She hadn’t let someone get this close, this fast, in a long time. She knew they both loved and cared for Mindy, but there was something else about their time together that went beyond the little girl.

When Tory returned to the front porch, she found Mindy standing by the rail, staring down at the flower bed. Tory put down the glass cleaner and towels on the swing and came up beside the child.

Mindy angled her head, glancing up at Tory. “Something—big—went—under—house. Uh—dark.” The child waved her hand toward the area behind a large azalea bush that had just lost its last red bloom. “What—is it?”

“It’s not the cat?” Tory bent over the rail to glimpse into a black hole that led to the crawl space under the house.

“No-oo.”

Straightening, Tory shook her head. “I don’t know, then. Maybe a raccoon. Two summers ago I had a family move in under the house.”

“With—bab-ies?”

“Yep.”

Mindy tried to stretch over the railing to get a better look. Tory had to hold her and pull her back when she nearly tumbled into the bush below.

“I want—to see.” Mindy pouted, tiny lines crinkling her brow.

“Not right now. Maybe some other time. Your dad is on his way with dinner and we have a mess to clean up.”

“He is?”

“He’s bringing us pizza.”

Mindy’s whole face brightened with a big grin. She moved toward the table, her foot dragging behind her more than usual, an indication the child was tired.

“Maybe you should rest before he comes,” Tory said while sopping up the melted ice cream with the paper towels.

Mindy grabbed the glass cleaner and sprayed it on the table. “I’m—oo-kay.”

The way the child held her left hand curled against her body told Tory otherwise. “Sit. I’ll see to this.”

Mindy fought a yawn. “Dad-dy—will be—here.”

“He still has twenty minutes.”

The child backed up against the swing and eased down onto its yellow cushion. She masked a big yawn while leaning back to rest her head. Her eyelids drooped, then snapped open. Tory finished cleaning the table, and by the time she gathered up the dirty paper towels to take back into the house, Mindy’s eyes were closed and her head was cocked to the side.

Tory moved the child so she lay on the cushion. Brushing back Mindy’s dark brown hair from her face, Tory stared at the little girl who had become so important to her. The child had gotten up with her at dawn to help her take care of the horses and she hadn’t stopped the whole day. She’d been by her side while she’d cleaned out the stalls and fed the horses. She’d ridden with her and helped her fix lunch. Mindy filled her life with a renewed purpose.

She’d missed Mindy this past week when Mrs. Davies had started to work for Slade. She’d only seen her when she had her two lessons. When Slade had asked her if Mindy could spend the night since Mrs. Davies couldn’t stay with her, she had jumped at the chance to have the girl with her for a full twenty-four hours. It had seemed like Christmas in June.

One of Mindy’s legs began to slip off the swing. Tory caught it and tucked it back under her. The child stirred but continued to sleep.

Again Tory brushed a stray strand of hair that had fallen forward behind Mindy’s ear. “I wish I was your mother,” she whispered. Tears crammed her throat. She wasn’t Mindy’s mother, would never be. The thought pierced her heart like a red-hot poker.

Slade pulled up in front of Tory’s small, one-story white house surrounded by large oaks and maples and felt as though he had come home. Tory rose from a white wicker chair on the porch and waved. Peace rippled through him. Clasping the steering wheel, he closed his eyes for a few seconds to relish that feeling. He could imagine her fragrance of lilacs, the light in her eyes when she smiled, and he held on to that serenity for a couple of seconds longer. Then reality blanketed him in a heavy cloak of guilt. Exhaustion cleaved to him, sharpening the sensation there wasn’t enough time in a day to correct what had happened to his daughter.

The aroma of the pizza wafted to him, reminding him that he’d brought dinner and he was hungry. Sliding from the car, he grabbed the three boxes and headed for the porch.

Tory’s eyes lit with that sparkle that always made him feel special. He responded with his own grin, saying, “I hope you two are hungry. I got medium ones for everyone.”

“Medium! Who else is coming?” Tory stepped to the swing and nudged his daughter who lay curled on the yellow cushion, sleeping.

Mindy’s eyes blinked open. She rubbed them as she propped herself up. “Dad-dy!”

She started to get to her feet, but Slade motioned for her to remain sitting. He brought her pizza box to her and opened it on the seat next to her.

“Why don’t we eat out here? I’ll go get some lemonade for us to drink.” Tory rushed inside, the screen door banging closed.

Mindy stared at her pizza but didn’t pick up a piece.

“Aren’t you gonna dig in? I thought half of it would be gone by now.” Slade sat in a chair across from his daughter.

“Can’t. Wait—for Tor-ee. We always—say a—” Mindy squinted “—prayer be-fore eat-ing.”

“Oh, right,” he murmured, remembering a time when he, Carol and Mindy used to do that—before the accident, before his world had been turned upside down and inside out. “How was your day?”

“The—best!” His daughter’s expression came alive. “I—helped. I got—to—ride.”

“You’re becoming quite the rider.”

Mindy straightened her shoulders, her chin tilting at a proud angle. “Yep.”

Tory pushed the screen door open with her foot. Slade rose and quickly took the pitcher of lemonade from her. After the drinks were served, she sat in the chair next to Slade’s, across from Mindy.

“We—wait-ed,” Mindy said, carefully putting her glass on the table next to the swing.

Tory bowed her head with Mindy following suit. Slade stared at them for a few seconds, then lowered his. The words of the simple prayer weaved their way through his mind. Had he given up on God too soon? Had he been wrong to stop going to church, to keep Mindy at home? Tory seemed to draw comfort from the Lord. But then she hadn’t been responsible for her child struggling each day—

“Dad-dy!”

Mindy’s voice penetrated his thoughts. He looked up to find both of them were staring at him as though he were an alien from outer space. His daughter had a piece of pizza in her hand, one bite taken from its end. Tory had nothing. Then he realized he still held the other two boxes in his lap. He quickly passed Tory’s to her and opened his own.

“I’ll share if you’re that hungry,” Tory said in a teasing tone.

“Even though I forgot to eat lunch, that one is all yours. The least I can do is provide dinner for you after you watched Mindy for me.”

“Looks like I got the better end of the deal. You shouldn’t work so hard that you forget to eat.”

“Had a flight to catch and a gal to get back to. A mighty pretty gal if I do say so myself.” His gaze strayed to his daughter.

Mindy giggled, her mouth stuffed with food. She started to say, “Da—”

“Nope. No words from the peanut gallery, especially when a certain pretty gal’s mouth is still full of pizza.”

Giggling some more, Mindy covered her mouth.

Tory watched the exchange between father and daughter, the love deep in their eyes. Mindy washed her food down with a big gulp of lemonade.

Slade leaned over and handed his daughter a napkin, pointing to her chin. “You have a red beard.”

Father and daughter’s shared laughter pricked Tory with longing. She wanted that with a child. She wanted a family. And time was running out for her. She didn’t see any way she was going to accomplish that goal. Too many obstacles.

“Was your business trip successful?” Tory settled back in her chair, her stomach knotted.

Picking up his pizza laden with everything but the kitchen sink, Slade said, “Things are proceeding according to my plans. Hopefully I won’t have to travel as much in the future.”

Mindy clapped. “Goo-dy!”

“I figured you would like that,” Slade said, taking a bite of his food.

The little girl popped the last piece of her third slice into her mouth, then took a large swallow of lemonade. Pushing herself to her feet, she said, “Save—for—later?”

“Sure, but I thought you were hungry?” Slade’s brow knitted in question.

“My—show—is on.” She started for the door.

“Show? What show?” Slade asked as his daughter banged the screen door closed behind her.

Tory shrugged. “Beats me. She doesn’t watch much TV when she’s here.”

“She’s always been a fast eater, but she beat her record this time.”

“I think she wanted to leave us alone so I could talk to you.”

The frown lines deepened as he shifted his blue gaze to her. “This doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

Her stomach muscles constricted even more, tension taking a firm grip on her. “Mindy doesn’t like Mrs. Davies.”

“Why?”

“She overheard the woman calling her a crippled retard to someone on the phone. She doesn’t think Mrs. Davies likes her.”

Anger slashed across his face. He flexed his hands then balled them. “A crippled retard?”

Her own indignation stiffened her spine. She remembered the hurt in Mindy’s voice and expression when she had told her earlier and wanted to demand Slade do something about it.

He tossed the pizza box he held onto the swing and surged to his feet. Every line in his body spoke of his rage. “She came highly recommended. Her references were excellent. How can—?” He paused, opening and closing his hands again, took a deep breath and continued. “How can anyone say that?”

“I don’t know,” Tory said, having a hard time herself understanding why Mrs. Davies would say that about Mindy, even if the woman didn’t know the child was listening.

Slade scrubbed his hands down his face, then plopped down onto the swing, facing Tory. “What do I do now? I can’t have someone like her taking care of Mindy, but I need someone to watch my daughter. Mrs. Davies was the best applicant from the batch I had. I—” He snapped his mouth closed and stared at a place behind Tory. When he reestablished eye contact with her, a bleak look was in his expression.

Tory resisted the urge to toss the pizza box to the floor and slip into the place next to him on the swing, taking his hands within hers. It was tempting, but she sat frozen in her chair, watching a play of emotions flit across his features.

A hopeful gleam appeared in his blue eyes. “Unless you’d like to take the job.”

For a moment Tory forgot about her ranch and the horses, her dream, and thought about accepting the offer, turning her back on the past four years. She loved Mindy and didn’t want someone else looking after her. But she couldn’t walk away from her dream and the people who depended on her, Mindy being one of them. “I’ve grown to love your daughter. I’d be glad to have Mindy come out here, but that’s a short-term solution. We could do that until you find someone else.”

“But you’re perfect for Mindy. She’s always talking about you. She’s so comfortable at your place. Isn’t there a way we could work this out?”

“It doesn’t seem practical.” Regret tinged her voice. She thought of the long hours she had to spend taking care of the ranch as it was right now. She could manage to help for a while, but without assistance with the ranch, everything would catch up with her. She could only do so much. “There’s so much I have to do around here. Going back and forth to town would be very time-consuming.”

“What if I moved out here?”

Surprise widened her eyes. “Where?”

He shrugged. “Here?”

“Here!” Her mouth went dry and perspiration cloaked her forehead.

“Yes.” Slade rose. “There’s got to be something that could work.” He began to pace as though he needed to keep moving in order to gather momentum. “Maybe we could get married? For Mindy.” The second he said those words, he halted, his eyes huge with shock.

“Married?” Stunned, Tory watched him begin walking again from the swing to one end of the porch, then back.