A Family For Tory And A Mother For Cindy. Margaret Daley

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