The Bridal Quest. Jennifer Mikels

It wasn’t always easy. Often they rebuffed kindness or attention. Jessica developed thick skin. She understood they’d been rejected so many times they lacked trust. But the two little girls she was with now carried none of the same burdens. They were loved.

      She spent the first hour asking about their routines, trying to become familiar with schedules, and discovered they had none. Though wake-up was a specific time, their daddy allowed them a lot of leeway about their bedtime.

      She assumed he had a hard time playing disciplinarian when they were all still handling grief. At least, he was. Annie had admitted she could hardly remember her mommy except that she’d smelled nice and had sung a song about sunshine to her. When Casey left the room, Annie whispered that Casey was too young to remember any of that. That left Jessica with the conclusion that Sam, not they, still needed healing from the loss.

      As the clock neared nine, Jessica urged them to take baths and put on their pajamas. She finished buttoning Casey’s pajamas while Annie brushed her hair. “Time to brush teeth.”

      “We have to floss, too. Daddy won’t let us go to bed unless we do,” Annie told her between scrubbing the brush across her teeth.

      With rituals done, she settled with them in the living room. She perused the television guide for a few minutes, then chose a movie-length cartoon.

      In fifteen minutes, Casey gave in and slumped to her left side, using Jessica’s lap for a pillow. A night-owl, Annie fought sleep. Head bobbing, she finally dozed off at eleven o’clock and slid down on the sofa cushion.

      “They need a bedtime,” Jessica muttered.

      “I know,” a masculine voice said unexpectedly from the doorway.

      Her head snapped up. She’d had no warning he was near, had heard no footsteps, no opening and closing of the door. “You are quiet.” Embarrassed at being caught talking to herself, she felt heat in her cheeks.

      “I practice so I can catch my deputies sleeping.” Sam shrugged out of his jacket and glanced at his sleeping daughters.

      “They didn’t make it,” Jessica said the obvious as she eased out from under Casey and off the sofa. Bending over the table, she scooped up several of Annie’s books to stack them.

      “They often don’t. I had to stay late. There was a call at the lake about someone fooling with the boats. It was a false alarm, one of the owner’s grandsons forgot his sweater in the boat and went back for it.”

      Straightening, she gave him a sleepy smile.

      “You look tired.”

      So did he. But he also looked more relaxed. “A little. Annie read a few books to us,” she said quietly. “And we watched the cartoon about the Dalmatians.”

      “It’s a favorite of Annie’s,” he said equally low so he wouldn’t wake the girls.

      Jessica smiled easily. She hoped they’d do this often, meet during the quiet moments to talk after the girls had gone to sleep. “I’ll help you carry them to bed,” she said, moving to Casey.

      “You don’t have to—”

      Jessica already had Casey in her arms.

      For a brief second, a look had darted across his face. She didn’t know him well enough to read what it meant. But she’d felt as if she’d stepped out of bounds when she’d picked up his daughter. “Is it okay? If you don’t want me to—”

      The look passed as quickly as it formed. “It’s okay. Thanks,” he said, gathering up Annie.

      Jessica cradled Casey’s head close to her breast, then followed him up the steps. Possibly she’d read him wrong.

      While he carried Annie into her room, she took Casey into hers. Within seconds, he came in, bent over the bed and kissed his daughter’s forehead.

      It was such a touching moment. Jessica couldn’t recall such a display of tenderness in her family, ever.

      She stood near the end of the bed, waited, watched his large hand stroke Casey’s forehead, gently brush back a few strands of her pale hair from her cheek. When he turned, she expected him to lead the way out of the room. Instead, he paused near the doorway, stood inches from her, facing her.