“Yeah. The stir-fry should be done soon.”
“You’re making stir-fry?”
He held up the cookbook. “I found the recipe in here. Between the grocery and health food stores we found everything we needed.”
“That’s what you were doing today?”
He smiled. “As you pointed out, there’s not a lot of action in Rosewood. And the girls enjoyed it.”
“Well…”
“I’d planned to have it all arranged in the dining room, but…surprise!”
“Surprise?” she echoed, looking stunned.
“Yeah. To say thanks for all you do for me, for the girls.” He walked toward the small sitting room just off the kitchen. “Girls, Cindy’s home.” As they scampered toward him, he stopped Alice, whispering to her, “Get your surprise.”
In a few moments Alice returned and came toward Cindy with a bouquet of daisies.
Cindy’s eyes misted as she accepted the flowers, then gave Alice a fierce hug.
“They seemed to suit you,” Flynn explained. “The daisies, I mean.”
Cindy’s throat worked. But Beth and Mandy were rushing at her, as well. Scooping them up in a hug, she hid her face behind their compact bodies. And Flynn couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that fiery head of hers.
Finally her face emerged as she settled the girls back on to the floor. “This is really nice. The dinner—” she held up the bouquet “—the flowers. Thanks.”
“I don’t say it often enough, but you’ve changed our lives and we appreciate it.”
Remarkably he thought her eyes brightened with the suspicion of tears. But that couldn’t be. Not freewheeling Cindy. She was all laughter, not tears.
She lowered her face, presumably to sniff the daisies. Her voice was soft, nearly muffled. “And you have changed mine.”
The girls pulled at her hands, tugging her toward the dining room to show off the table setting. But Flynn didn’t follow, instead remembering the remarkable look on her face, the remembered feelings it evoked. Feelings he thought he’d put to rest the day he proposed to Julia.
Chapter Six
A few days later, Flynn entered his daughters’ room. Once again he admired all of Cindy’s handiwork, but still he felt she had gone overboard. She claimed she wasn’t spoiling the girls, but he was worried about all her overly generous gestures. From experience he knew it wasn’t wise to grow up believing life was always this kind.
He reached down to pick up a discarded pair of pajamas the girls had left behind. As he stood, he noticed a new addition to the room. A picture of Jesus.
All the betrayal of his past choked him. It was one thing to spoil the girls, it was another to tamper with their beliefs.
Hearing Cindy’s steps in the hall outside the room, he called out for her. “Would you come in here?”
The echo of footfalls on the wooden floor paused, then turned into the room. “Yes?”
“What’s this?”
She glanced around the room. “What?”
“Don’t play games. This picture.”
Cindy looked back at him wryly. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious.”
“What’s it doing in here?”
She pointed to another picture on the wall—one filled with cartoon characters. “I’m decorating their room.”
“The picture of Jesus isn’t a decoration. It’s a statement.”
“I think that’s an exaggeration. The girls aren’t even three years old yet.”
“The younger the mind, the easier it is to brainwash.”
“Brainwash?”
“Influence, then.”
“Flynn, they’re babies!”
“Then why the picture of Jesus?”
She hedged for only a moment. “I like the idea of Him looking over them, protecting them.”
“That’s a fairy tale,” he told her flatly, deep anger and remembered pain darkening his thoughts.
Shocked, she stared at him. “You can’t mean that!”
“Don’t delude yourself, Cindy. Especially for a craze you’ll forget by next month.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m chasing fads like a teenager?”
Exasperated, unwilling to face the pain in her expression, he threw up his hands. “All I asked is a simple question.”
“Then I’ll give you a simple answer. Your lack of faith is going to hurt your daughters. If you’re having a crisis of faith—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, with only the slightest grip on his anger.
She studied him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Nodding, she turned away.
“Cindy?”
She glanced at the picture on the wall. “I’ll take it down later. But I can’t guarantee that you won’t see it somewhere else in the house.”
Unable to watch her leave, he turned toward the window. Then he heard the sound of tiny steps, then a tug on his jeans.
Flynn glanced down. “Hey there, Alice.”
“Up?” she asked.
He obliged, picking her up until they were at eye level.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie.”
“Why you hate Jesus?”
He hadn’t known a fist to the gut could be delivered by a guileless toddler. “What makes you say that?”
Alice screwed up her precious face. “Me heard fight with Cinny. I wanna have Jesus here.”
“But it’s only a picture.”
“How come, then?”
Why not indeed? It was only a picture, it had no power over them. Over him.
Yet the torturous question accompanied him as he went through the motions of the day. It was late afternoon when he finally sought Cindy out again.
She was in the kitchen, preparing a huge casserole.
“That’s quite a lot of food,” he commented, not certain how to begin this discussion.
“For tonight,” Cindy replied. Then she glanced up, catching his puzzled glance. “Remember the people coming over tonight? I told you about them.”
“Oh, right. I’ll clear out pretty soon.”
Exasperation flooded her expression. “Flynn. I invited them over to meet you.”
He’d completely forgotten, caught up in hours of rare contemplation, a prisoner of a past he’d never outrun. “Of course.”
A buzzer went off and she walked to the oven, pulling out a fragrant tray of rolls. Searching for a place to put them on the crowded tile counter, she glanced up at him. “Did you need something?”
He moved aside the casserole dish at the end of the counter, making a place for the rolls. “I’ve been thinking…”
Uncharacteristically, she