“I guess so.” Kristie looked up at him with trust shining in her eyes. “But that’s still what I want for my birthday, okay?”
He tried to suppress a sigh of exasperation. “Kristie…” he began, but she slid off the swing and patted his knee like a little mother.
“It’s okay, Daddy. You think about it. I’ll go help Grandma with dessert while you decide.”
She danced across the porch, her white sundress flitting around her. The screen door slammed behind her.
He looked at Ellie. Her expressive face was perfectly grave, but he thought a trace of amusement lurked in her dark eyes.
“I suppose you think this is funny.”
Her dimple showed. “Maybe just a bit. She is one very determined little girl. I wonder from whom she inherited that quality?”
She had a point there, though he hated to admit it. Certainly Julie had never been that way. Julie had been sweet, dependent, passive. But never determined.
“Do your spiritual lessons with six-year-olds always end up like this?” He firmly lobbed the ball back into Ellie’s court.
Her expression clouded. “I hope not. I take it very seriously, and I try to put things in terms children can understand. But you just never know how they’re going to interpret what you say.”
“To an engineer, precision is crucial.”
“Even when you’re dealing with a six-year-old?”
“Especially when you’re dealing with a six-year-old like mine.” He frowned. Did he really have a clue what Kristie needed anymore? “I already ordered the bicycle. It’s hidden over at Brett and Rebecca’s house. Bright blue, with streamers on the handlebars.”
“She’ll love it. Really.” She reached toward him, almost as if she wanted to comfort him. Then, just as quickly, she drew her hand back, apparently thinking the better of it. “I’m sure she knows you want what’s best for her.”
“I hope so.” He looked at her, weighing the caring that shone in those bright eyes. He’d like to believe that was genuine. Unfortunately he couldn’t ignore the instinct that told him she was hiding something. “I want what’s best for my mother, too.”
She knew immediately what he was talking about. He could see that in her sudden wariness. Her expression clouded, and she looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “Your mother seems to be perfectly happy with her life.”
“You look at her as a friend,” he said, trying to ignore the way her dark hair curled against the sunshine yellow of her dress. “At least I hope so. I look at her as the mother who’s always been protected.”
She bit her lower lip for an instant, then seemed to come to a decision. Her gaze met his with a certain amount of defiance. “I’ve already told you that she and my father are just friends.”
“Are they?” After his mother’s performance this morning at church, he couldn’t believe that.
“Yes.” She said it so firmly that he thought she was trying to convince herself. “And if it’s any satisfaction to you, I don’t want to see anything else between them, any more than you do.”
“Why?” He shot the word at her.
For an instant she looked disconcerted. “Because…because my father will be leaving soon.” He sensed she edited her words carefully, and wondered what she’d say if she really spoke her mind. “I just don’t think it would work out.”
“That’s good, because I intend to make sure nothing happens between them.” He leaned closer, hearing the sudden catch of her breath at his nearness. They were so close he could see the fine vein tracing her temple, the curve of each dark lash. “And since you agree that a relationship between them is a bad idea, you can help me.”
“I don’t—I don’t think that’s necessary.” She drew back, setting the swing vibrating with her tension.
“I do.”
She started to rise, as if to escape him. He caught her hand, holding her still for an instant. He felt her skin grow warm against his palm.
“And I think you do, too,” he said.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d said that to him. But this time they both knew it wasn’t true. They seemed to be communicating through their linked hands. He felt the determination on his side and just as clearly felt the doubt and fear on hers.
Ellie’s eyes widened, telling him the same instinctive knowledge flooded her. The moment stretched, weighted and silent.
She twisted away from him in a sudden movement and hurried into the house, the screen door slamming behind her.
Quinn took a deep breath, looking down at his hand as if it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t sure what had just happened here. Maybe Ellie didn’t know, either.
But one thing was very clear. He had to detach his mother from Ellie’s father, and he had to guard his own emotions while he did so. Because Ellie Wayne had just roused feelings in him he’d never thought to have for any woman again.
Everything was going to be all right. Ellie had told herself that a dozen times by the next morning, and she still wasn’t convinced. Her reaction to Quinn rattled her—she couldn’t deny that. She just hoped she hadn’t let him see how much.
She glanced around the Sunday school room, trying to focus on it instead of the shop. Her part-time help, young Janey Dean, would do fine without her for the mornings this week while she concentrated on vacation Bible school.
She’d pushed the tables to the side so she could set up a pretend camping area in the center for vacation Bible school. The kids would like that. Unfortunately thinking of the children made her think of Kristie, which led her thoughts right back to Kristie’s father.
She had to stop this. There was a simple solution to the problem presented by Quinn Forrester. She’d avoid him, and she’d make sure her father did the same.
She knew Quinn’s type, only too well. He might stay in Bedford Creek for a time, feeling guilty about his little girl. But then the need to achieve at his job would kick in, and before he even recognized what had happened, he’d be on his way back to the West Coast.
She bit her lip, thinking of Kristie. Lord, I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. I shouldn’t be hoping he goes away soon, not when his daughter wants so much for him to stay. But what can I do?
There didn’t seem to be any good answer to that question, and she suspected her prayers on the subject of Quinn had been a little self-serving.
She just had to stay away from him, she reminded herself firmly. Surely Bedford Creek was big enough to allow that. She’d stay away from him, and everything would work out fine.
The thunder of running feet announced the first arrivals for Bible school, and she turned her mind firmly toward her plans for the day.
Kristie bounced through the doorway with the earliest group, her small face beaming with pleasure. “We’re here!” she shouted.
We? Ellie’s heart thudded to her toes as Quinn appeared behind his daughter. He paused for a moment, his tall figure framed in the doorway. His faded jeans and white knit shirt were considerably less formal than the suit, dress shirt and tie he’d worn for church. Less formal, she found herself thinking, but not less attractive.
She forced a smile. “Good morning.” She turned to the children. “Wow, you’re here early. How would you like to help make a mural of Abraham’s sheep?”
Luckily everyone would. She got them started with markers on the newsprint background she’d already prepared and steadfastly