Family Ties. Bonnie K. Winn

view’s good,” Cindy mused, appraising the gently knolled lot. “Are you planning to put the house at the top of the little hill?”

      Flynn nodded. “That’ll make the best use of the plans. I want a lot of windows—so many, it looks as though the walls are made of glass. Which works out well since I’m going to have a solar energy system.”

      Cindy pointed to the drawing of the roof. “This looks kind of unusual.”

      “Good eye,” Flynn replied. “That’s a cooling pool. With all the brush out here in the fields, there’s a higher fire risk. The pool will keep the roof from catching a stray spark.”

      “Hmm.”

      Enjoying her polite but puzzled expression, Flynn laughed. “You don’t sound convinced. It’s not only for safety. We can swim in the pool, as well.”

      “Ah…” Politeness gave way to pleasure, softening her face in an unexpectedly attractive way.

      Not that she wasn’t already pretty…. Flynn felt his thoughts jerk in surprise. He’d always known what an attractive woman she was, but that had never mattered in the past. Not when Julia was alive. And because he and Cindy were all wrong for each other, it could never matter in the future.

      “You’ll be glad of that in the summer,” Cindy was saying, her smile nearly as bright as her blazing hair.

      “What’s that?” he replied, distracted by the wash of unpleasant memories.

      She drew her brows together as she glanced at him in quizzical surprise. “That you can swim in the pool.”

      “Oh…Yes.”

      But Cindy didn’t seem to think his mental detour was significant. “The kids should love it.”

      His expression mellowed. “I want to build swing sets and a playhouse, too, make the house a place they want to be.”

      Cindy’s smile was at once tender yet nostalgic. “You’re a good father, Flynn.”

      But he couldn’t easily accept the compliment. “I spent a lot of time away from them when they were babies. Julia was so competent. She and the girls were a perfect unit. It didn’t seem as though she really needed me to be there.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Flynn realized they were true. He’d never verbalized this vague feeling and it both surprised and embarrassed him that he’d made the confession to Cindy.

      “Perhaps it just seemed that way,” she suggested gently. “The way our parents died changed Julia forever. You know she blamed it on their incurable zest for adventure.” Cindy paused, her expression reflective. “And I always felt that was why she became so efficient and capable. So much so that she no doubt thought taking charge of the girls was good for both of you. And she probably didn’t realize she was radiating such a self-sufficient image.”

      “Maybe,” Flynn acknowledged, not completely buying the explanation. Cindy was right about their parents. Julia had confided early on that’s why she wanted stability and security, but it didn’t explain shutting him out. “I should have seen past that, made sure I was involved in raising my own children.”

      Cindy moved a bit closer. “The important thing is that you’re here for the girls now. As difficult as this sounds, they probably don’t remember any of that earlier time.”

      He nodded glumly, suspecting it wouldn’t be long before they lost all memory of their mother.

      “Oh, Flynn! You don’t think they’ll forget their mother, do you?” Cindy exclaimed, obviously only that very moment realizing they could forget Julia.

      But he couldn’t find any glib reassurances to offer. “I’ve worried about it. Even now, they speak of her less and less often.”

      Dismayed, Cindy stared at him, tears misting her vivid green eyes, as she brought one hand to her mouth.

      Flynn moved closer, his fingers closing around her arm. “Between us they’ll remember.” It was as much a promise as a resolution. A promise born of one he’d made long ago.

      “She loved them so much,” Cindy murmured. “They have to know that.”

      “They’ll see it in you,” Flynn told her, the response surprising both of them.

      Cindy’s chin lifted, her eyes meeting his. “They will?”

      “They’ve held an attachment to you that’s remarkable, considering how young they are, how seldom you used to see them. I can’t help but think it’s your connection to their mother.”

      Slowly, almost painfully, Cindy nodded. “There was a time when Julia and I were so close, we used to imagine we were twins.”

      Flynn frowned, the words giving him weighty pause. “You never seemed much alike to me.”

      A smile rose from the pain on her face. “Probably not to anyone else. We don’t look anything alike—I’m the only renegade redhead besides my grandmother. And I’m as boisterous as Julia was refined, but it was something deeper. A connection in our souls. And that only strengthened after our parents died.”

      “But you didn’t visit all that often. And you moved away from Houston,” he pointed out, wondering yet again about his elusive sister-in-law, remembering how he’d shut out any thoughts of her once Julia was his.

      Cindy turned, her gaze fastening on the gently winding road that was nearly obscured by the great tracts of irrepressible wild grass. Her open expression didn’t slam shut; rather it sidled away so subtly, he wondered if he imagined the change.

      “People grow up and away,” she finally answered. “Distance need not be more than a physical impediment. I don’t think it was for us.”

      “She missed you,” Flynn admitted. “Especially since you were the last of your family.”

      Pain vaulted past subtlety, ravishing her face. “I had no idea.”

      “Don’t take the words to heart. But you should know how she felt, how she always valued your relationship.” He couldn’t admit that Cindy’s absence from their lives had been a relief to him. Flynn hadn’t needed or wanted reminders of what she represented, of what he had tried to escape every day since childhood.

      Despite his reassurance, only a sparse bit of comfort mixed with the trepidation painting her face. “I should have visited more. I shouldn’t have let…”

      “What?” he asked, when her words trailed away.

      She brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

      “Did you have an argument?” Flynn asked, wondering how he could have not known that.

      “No.” For a moment her face brightened. “Julia wouldn’t have allowed it. Besides, she was my other half. Surely you’ve noticed that we were complete opposites?”

      The fact that Cindy was her sister’s opposite in every way was still Cindy’s biggest downfall in his opinion, the reason he’d chosen Julia over her, yet he nodded.

      “We seemed to complete what the other lacked. And I feel like my other half’s gone forever.” Suddenly she looked horrified. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep putting both feet in my mouth and tromping around like they’re clad in combat boots. I’m so sorry. You truly have lost your other half.”

      “No need to apologize. We both lost her.” His gaze moved to include the girls, who were tossing wildflowers skyward, then giggling madly as the blossoms fell down upon them. “We all did.”

      “Children are so resilient,” Cindy mused. “It’s one of the ways the Lord protects them.”

      Flynn lifted his eyebrows but he didn’t respond, thinking it wasn’t worth arguing over. His own faith was long gone, and he still believed it wasn’t something Cindy would be spouting