Mom In The Middle. Mae Nunn

done.”

      Her dad nodded and began the difficult task of climbing back into his chair. Abby choked down the desire to offer help as he struggled to hoist himself up into the seat. He was determined to be independent despite the primary progressive stage of the disease that he’d lived with for as long as she could recall. The inflammation in his spinal cord had made walking impossible for several years but he insisted on being self-sufficient in every other way.

      Respect for her father’s wishes and worry for his weakened upper body churned her emotions. Fearing the chair would topple from his efforts, she decided to help whether he wanted it or not. She squatted and released Dillon. He chuckled with delight, no doubt over escaping his mama’s grasp, and toddled toward his papa.

      “Here, let me give you a hand with that, sir.”

      She looked up to see Guy, already on his feet, offering the assistance she was positive her father would reject. Guy had braced the wheels against the cabinet and was gently supporting her father so he could settle comfortably into the leather seat of his chair.

      “Thanks.” Her dad huffed out a breath, sounding relieved. “Getting down is always a sight easier than the climb back up. I coulda made it by myself, though. Always do.” Abby heard the gruffness and wondered if Guy had any idea it was there to mask the gratitude so hard for her father to show.

      The two men exchanged respectful nods. Dillon stood at their side, watching, holding his arms outward, literally drooling to be in the middle of the awkward maleness.

      “Papa! Weet, weet!”

      The moment pulsed with something that distinctly excluded her.

      A sort of male bonding. Her insides twisted into a tight knot.

      That was exactly what seemed to be going on, and something about this emotional picture was all wrong. Phillip should have been the man helping her father, ruffling the hair on Dillon’s head, hoisting him up into his papa’s lap for a ride into the kitchen.

      But Phillip had left her. Voluntarily. Now he was gone. Permanently.

      How could the loving God she’d heard so much about also be so cruel?

      “I know your family has things to do and I apologize that I’m still underfoot.” Guy watched her dad and Dillon cruise the hallway and then turned to her. “I’ll just clean up here and be on my way.”

      “Thank you,” she softly spoke the words, knowing he deserved them, determined to deny the constant stabs of resentment that had taken hold of her heart at the news of Phillip’s death.

      “It’s kind of you to spend time with my dad. He’s a tad irascible with Mama in the hospital, and your visit seems to have distracted him for a bit. Once again, you’re a lifesaver.”

      He held up his palms deflecting the praise. “Hey, I’m just a regular guy trying to walk the walk the company teaches. When I saw he needed help, I offered to stick around. Any H&H employee would do the same.” He downplayed his kindness.

      She let her shoulders slump, relaxing for the first time all day. It was nice to meet a simple man who believed in acts of kindness.

      “I’ll mop up back here later,” she gestured to the spatters of grimy water on the utility-room floor. “But right now we have to grab a sandwich and get to the hospital before visiting hours are over.”

      “Hey, no problem. I’ll just pick up this mess, put away the tools and show myself to the door.” He squatted and began loading rusted pipes into the cardboard box. “By the way, your dad’s really something.”

      “Yeah, I agree.” She nodded and turned to leave the utility room.

      “And quite the talker,” he added with a note of amusement in his voice.

      Afraid to ask what that meant, she kept moving.

      True to his word, Guy Hardy finished up the work, and ten minutes later poked his head into the kitchen to say goodbye. He declined the offer of a sandwich and even insisted on letting himself out as if he’d done it a hundred times.

      Abby rose to put her plate in the sink and glanced toward the family room. Through the large picture window she could see the driveway was once again empty. He was probably halfway back to the store that would be open for several more hours.

      “Dad, if you’ll wash Dillon’s face, I’ll go freshen up and we’ll still have time to stop at the market for that bunch of flowers you wanted to get Mama.”

      As Abby passed the laundry-room door, she glanced inside, expecting to find wet traces of their sink repair. Instead, the white linoleum floor was much cleaner than usual. The mop was thoughtfully replaced, damp end upward, in the hanging utility rack. This regular guy, as he called himself, was nice and a clean freak.

      She sighed, knowing there was only one way to handle this. With the bedroom door closed, she asked directory assistance for the new Hearth and Home Super Center. After the cheery greeting, Abby requested the store manager. Following a brief hold, a woman’s voice answered.

      “I’m Leah Miller, and it’s my pleasure to serve you.”

      “This is Abby Cramer and I left some things there on Saturday after my mother’s accident.”

      “Oh, yes, Mrs. Cramer,” the voice was filled with concern. “If there’s any way we can be of help to your family, you just let us know.”

      “Well, thank you for the kind offer, but I was really calling for another reason. I’d like to compliment one of your employees. He delivered everything today and then stuck around to help my father with a plumbing repair.”

      “That’s the kind of story we like to hear about our personnel. Can you give me the employee’s name, please?”

      “He’s the same person who took us to the hospital. His name is Guy. Guy Hardy. Do you think you could put a note in his file so it will look good on his work record?”

      “Ma’am, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that,” the woman sounded amused. “Guy doesn’t have an employee file. Not in Austin, anyway.”

      “I don’t understand.” Abby squinted at herself in the mirror above her dresser.

      “Guy’s the boss,” Leah said simply.

      “But I thought you were the manager.”

      “Yes, ma’am, that’s true. I’m the manager, but Guy Hardy is the owner.”

      Abby watched her own reaction in the mirror as her jaw sagged with the realization.

      There was nothing at all regular about this Guy.

      Chapter Three

      Abby fastened her seat belt and slammed the door of the van.

      Well, that explains it, Lord. The nice-guy act had nothing to do with genuine kindness and everything to do with protecting his interests. When will I learn not to be such a Pollyanna?

      She shifted into reverse, turned to glance behind her and looked at her precious boy. He’d dozed off the moment he’d settled into his car seat. Her father was silent for once, busy with his own thoughts. The quiet was a welcome relief from all the chatter of her first graders. The school year was winding down. Coming to a screeching halt, actually. She was preparing her kids for the testing that would assess not only their skills but her ability as a teacher. With the burgeoning Hispanic population in Texas, many children required special attention because English was their second language. She could teach twelve hours a day and not meet everybody’s needs. The playground project at church was behind schedule, underfunded and she still hadn’t found a weekend sitter so she could devote more time to its completion. School would be out just after Mother’s Day, the day of the playground unveiling, and there was more on her to-do list than she could possibly accomplish in what little free time she had.

      And now it looked like