Finding Amy. Carol Steward

on the table. Jessica shook her head, winced, and let out a deep groan. “It’s not.”

      He wanted to know what was going through her mind. Was she upset with him? With Amy? Or was she simply in such agony that she didn’t feel at all like talking?

      “It looks like you found her room. Amy’s pj’s are in the top drawer of her dresser.” Jessica walked stiffly to the refrigerator and removed an old-fashioned hot-water bottle from the freezer. As if she could read his mind, she held it up. “It freezes flat.”

      “Good idea.” He walked past the bathroom and stopped. “Does Amy still wear a diaper? I’m not too familiar with exact ages on that sort of thing.”

      A faint smile teased Jessica’s lips. “Ah, how refreshing, you aren’t an expert on everything. No, she’ll need to go potty. She’s pretty self-sufficient, but I’ll get her cleaned up and change her clothes.”

      Sam wanted to relieve her of duty but realized Jessica didn’t know him very well and backed off. “Sounds good.”

      He watched her hobble past him, and then left Amy with Jessica while he went in search of pajamas. The multicolored dresser coordinated with the curtains and had a Winnie-the-Pooh theme. Jessica handed him a warm washcloth when they returned a few minutes later.

      “She washed her hands, but wouldn’t let me near her face. Maybe you can work your charm on her.”

      Amy hopped onto the bed as if the catnap had recharged her battery.

      “Jessica…” He wanted to take her into his arms and put the mishaps of the evening into perspective. He wanted another chance. That surprised him, after his initial impression of her.

      She paused, clearly annoyed and not in the mood to discuss anything. “Never mind, we’ll talk later.”

      “Yeah, we need to finish talking about your date.”

      “Our date,” he corrected.

      Jessica looked him in the eye. “I’m talking about the auction.”

      He shrugged. “The only way I can stand to think of it is if you’re my date.” Where he kept coming up with these ideas he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t argue with them. He didn’t want to see anyone else. Not until he was certain about these feelings for Jessica.

      She didn’t seem too pleased with his idea. “I don’t mean this to sound as harsh as it will, but don’t count on it. Not that I wouldn’t like to…date, mind you, but the point of this is to raise money. And on my budget…” She looked around the apartment. “I’m saving for a house.”

      “I see.”

      “And besides that, I don’t think it would look good for the organizer to wind up with the ‘prime property’—excuse the analogy, my brain’s a little foggy right now.” She raised her eyebrows, revealing beautiful gray eyes and a sense of humor.

      He liked the gleam in her eye when she called him that, though, as a man of God, he probably shouldn’t. “It’s nice to know you have high ethics.”

      “Yeah, now that you understand I’m a clean-cut woman, where are my drugs?” She disappeared, stifling another groan.

      Sam heard the rattle of pills in thin plastic bottles, such as a prescription would come in. She returned from the kitchen with a glass of ice water and a hopeful look of relief.

      “Thanks for staying, Sam. If you’d just lock the back door when you leave, Amy will come to my room if she wakes.” Jessica went into Amy’s room. “’Night, sweetie. Be a good girl for Sam.”

      “’Night, Mommy. Owie better.” They blew kisses, obviously both used to the limitations of Jessica’s back problems.

      Sam noticed that Amy had dressed herself as he and Jessica were talking, even though her pajamas were on backward. “C’mon, Day-ee.”

      “I’ll talk to you later, then,” he said with uncertainty as he heard the latch of her bedroom door click between them.

      Sam helped Amy onto her bed, then spread his hand wide under the washcloth. “I’m gonna get you,” he teased.

      Amy giggled and pushed her hand against his, collapsing onto the mattress.

      He let her win a couple of times, then made contact and washed the leftover ketchup from her cheeks. “All cleaned up and ready for bed.”

      He covered Amy with the sheet and turned out the light. “’Night, ’night.”

      Amy waved to him and he waved back.

      He looked around the tiny living room, wondering if Jessica was out for the night. He found the remote control, sat on the overstuffed sofa and turned to the local news.

      Tonight, as they were eating, he had realized Jessica had been in party-girl mode with the men he’d seen her with at the Stagecoach Café. She had been far from flirtatious with him. Gut instinct told him the woman he’d spent the last few hours with was the real Jessica Mathers. He knew enough of her past to understand her struggles. Like her temptation to have a cocktail with dinner. Alcohol was a tough habit to break, and he admired Jessica’s determination to improve her life one step at a time.

      Sam heard toys rattling in Amy’s room. “Amy?”

      Karumpf. Sam would never forget the sound of tiny bodies jumping into bed. He shouldn’t—he and his brothers did the same almost every night growing up. Usually they were pulling some prank on their younger sister, Lucia. The memories brought a smile.

      Sam crossed the compact living room to Amy’s door, and found her totally immersed under the covers with the corners of a book jabbing into the sheet. She was chattering away in gibberish. He watched for a moment, comforted to see Amy acting like a normal little girl. After the accident, he’d prayed that she wouldn’t suffer any problems as a result of being thrown from the car.

      He knelt next to the bed. “Could I read the book to you?”

      Amy scrambled beneath the sheet, emerging with eyes wide and a smile to match. She nodded.

      He opened the book. “If you give a moose a muffin..” He turned to her and frowned. “A moose?”

      She giggled and snuggled closer. Sam felt as if his heart had been handcuffed to these two females.

      After two books, she jumped out of the bed.

      “Where are you going, Miss Priss?”

      She giggled, covering her mouth with her tiny hand. “Potty,” she whispered.

      “Okay, potty is allowed. Then back to bed. To sleep this time.”

      “Weed anofer book?”

      “No more books, Amy. You need to go to sleep.”