Lost and Found Faith

by Laurel Blount

  Well, now he could. She needed him. Nobody had needed him for a very long time.

  “All right,” he heard himself saying. “I’ll try. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I’ll do better than that!” She jumped up, swiping his half-eaten pie and stashing it in the refrigerator, fork and all. “I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two mind-boggling hours later, Neil was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Cedar Ridge Library beside Maggie and Oliver, participating in something called Story Time. So far, it consisted of watching the children’s librarian performing a puppet show about a greedy mouse that couldn’t accept a cookie without asking for endless other things. About twenty other preschoolers were seated around them, mesmerized by the gray mouse puppet bobbing around on the young woman’s hand.

  He loved libraries. When he’d moved to Cedar Ridge, one of his first stops had been in this quiet brick building to apply for his card. He’d visited here many times since then, but he’d never ventured into the children’s area.

  This was a whole different world.

  The room pulsed with energy. Bright cutouts dangled from the ceiling, murals representing scenes of children’s stories decorated the walls and pint-size chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. The whole place was loud, colorful and chaotic, and Neil felt as out of place as he had when Laura had enticed him into Baby Superstore.

  He snapped the lid on that memory as quick as he could, but the heartache sneaked through anyway. Just as he sucked in a quick, pained breath, the mouse requested something particularly outrageous, and the room erupted in delighted squeals. Oliver chortled and reached to pat Neil’s cheek with an excited hand, pointing with the other one.

  “See?” the toddler urged. “See, Neil?”

  “Yeah, buddy. I see. That’s silly!”

  “Whoa!” Oliver supplied, nodding earnestly.

  “Definitely,” Neil agreed. “Whoa!”

  He had to force the word past the lump in his throat. After all this kid had been through, he could still find joy in a book about a goofy mouse.

  Pretty amazing, really.

  The little boy scooted farther away from Maggie, settling himself in Neil’s lap as the librarian turned a page, revealing even more ridiculous mouse requests. Neil felt the vibration of Oliver’s chuckle against his chest, and he shot a worried glance in Maggie’s direction.

  She sat beside him, wearing her green Angelo’s apron. She’d explained everything on the drive over. She was booked to provide refreshments for several summer events, and she wanted him to come along to see if he could help Oliver bond with her.

  He wasn’t sure how to do that. Maggie was already going all out to connect with the kid. She even had a small stuffed rodent peeping from her apron’s front pocket. She’d offered the toy to Oliver, but he’d ignored her.

  Now she was watching him giggle in Neil’s lap, her expression filled with a hungry sadness that made his heart constrict with sympathy. He knew how it felt to be the one on the outside of happiness, looking in.

  She glanced up and met his eyes. Offering him a watery smile, she pressed one hand over her heart.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  Neil blinked. He didn’t know how to answer, so he just nodded.

  He glanced from the animated story reader to the wiggling herd of children, to the moms, who all looked as if they needed a cup of strong coffee and a nap. So many patient adults, giving their time and their energy to help kids unlock the wonders of books.

  Suddenly, the whole Story Time thing seemed less chaotic and more generous. Like Maggie thanking Neil for basking in an affection that rightfully should have been hers.

  He rested his chin gently on the top of Oliver’s head and listened as the tale came full circle, and the silly mouse asked for the exact thing he’d been given to start with.

  The room broke into happy applause as the librarian announced that Angelo’s bakery was sponsoring a cookie-creation event in the multipurpose room.

  Maggie turned to Neil and smiled. “I’ll go get everything set up. Will you take Oliver to the restroom so he can wash his hands?”

  “Sure.” That sounded simple enough.

  It wasn’t.

  One advantage to being one of the few guys in the crowd was that there wasn’t a line in the men’s room. The disadvantage was that he was on his own when it came to figuring out how to help a toddler wash his hands at an adult-level sink. As Neil sized up the situation, the door opened behind him, and he glanced into the mirror to see Dex coming in, carrying Rory.

  “’Scuse us,” the boy said brusquely, elbowing past to the sink. Neil watched as Dex set his brother on the counter beside the basin. The teen squirted soap into his own palms and sudsed up Rory’s hands. Then he helped Rory lean over to rinse his small fingers under the stream of water.

  So that’s how you do this. Relieved, Neil went to the other sink and followed suit. When he finished, he was perplexed again. The paper towels were on the other side of the sink. Was he supposed to pick Oliver up with wet hands and carry him over there?

  How did parents figure all this stuff out?

  “Here.” Dex sullenly offered a wad of brown paper towels.

  “Thanks for the help,” Neil said, accepting it. “I’m a rookie.”

  “Huh,” Dex snorted. “Sucking up to a pretty girl by being nice to her kid? That doesn’t sound like such a rookie move to me, Iceman.”

  Neil tensed, then tossed the used towels into the trash. “Something you’d like to say to me, Dex?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Dex shrugged. “You already wrecked my ticket to play ball in college. What else you gonna do? Maggie’s good people, Iceman. She’s helped me and little man here more than once, and we care about her. Why don’t you do us all a favor and leave her alone?” When Neil started to speak, Dex held up a hand. “Uh-uh. Don’t tell me you care about her, too. Everybody knows the Iceman don’t care about anybody but himself.”

  The teenager pushed through the swinging bathroom door, leaving Neil standing by the sink. He lifted Oliver into his arms, and the little boy grinned happily at himself in the mirror.

  “Cookies now?” he asked hopefully.

  “That’s right.” Neil forced a smile. Leaving the restroom, he followed the flow of the crowd to the library’s multipurpose room.

  Maggie had been busy. Cookie and mouse cutouts dangled from colorful ribbons pinned to the ceiling, and the long table was covered with green plastic tablecloths sporting Angelo’s logo. A large tub of cookies sat at one end, alongside a tall stack of green paper plates. Maggie was supervising the use of piping bags stuffed with colorful icing and an amazing variety of sprinkles neatly separated into containers.

  The noise was deafening, and the generous plastic tarps underneath the tables were already splattered with cookie crumbs and sprinkles.

  Maggie lifted her head to scan the crowd, and Neil smiled. She’d donned a headband with brown mouse ears, and she’d drawn black whiskers on her cheeks and darkened the tip of her nose. She should’ve looked silly.

  She didn’t. She looked...sweet.

  When she caught sight of them, she waved excitedly, apparently forgetting she was holding an icing bag. Blue frosting squirted down the front of her apron, making the children around her squeal delightedly. Maggie tipped her head back and laughed along with them.

  She dabbed at her apron with a paper towel and beckoned.

  “Hi, guys!” Maggie said cheerfully when they were close enough to hear her over the din. “Isn’t this fun? Are you ready to decorate a cookie, Oliver?”

  Neil felt the child’s fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt as he surveyed the chaos with an uncertain expression.

  “Tell you what.” Maggie indicated the spot next to her. “Why don’t you sta
nd right here so I can help you?”

  Neil thought Oliver would refuse, but then the child wiggled, indicating he wanted to get down. Neil set him on the floor, and Oliver edged closer to Maggie, tugging Neil along by one finger.

  Maggie helped the toddler choose a mouse-shaped cookie. She spooned bright yellow frosting into a piping bag and offered it to Oliver. Reluctantly, the little boy released his grip on Neil’s thumb and squeezed the bag. Nothing happened. Maggie reached down and gently adjusted his fingers.

  “Try again, sweetie.”

  Oliver clenched his little fist, and a huge amount of goo squirted out, half on the cookie and half on the tablecloth. He froze. He looked at Maggie fearfully, his face puckering. She quickly dipped up a bit of the wasted frosting with her finger and dabbed it on his mouth. He licked at it, his eyes wide with surprise. His face relaxed into a grin.

  “Good!” he said, happily. “Good, Maggie!”

  Maggie glanced at Neil, her face alight with joy, before reaching down to tousle Oliver’s hair.

  “Yes, sweetie,” she murmured. “Very good!”

  She looked at Neil as if waiting for him to chime in. He smiled mechanically, but he didn’t answer. The truth was, he was finding it a little difficult to breathe.

  When Maggie Byrne smiled like that, with her heart shining in her eyes, she was...really something.

  A rough nudge startled him out of his trance. Dex had shouldered his way up to the table, Rory perched in his arms.

  “Move over, Iceman,” the boy ordered. “You’re in my way.”

  “Dex.” Maggie’s voice was softly reproachful, and the boy shot her a sheepish look. “Come here, Rory, and let’s pick you out a cookie to decorate.”

  Dex handed his brother over and watched as Maggie led the little boy through the process of choosing a cookie and an icing color.

  “There’s no milk in that icing, is there?” he asked worriedly.

  “Nope. I made sure,” Maggie said.

  Neil cleared his throat. This was as good a time as any to bring up something he’d been thinking about since Maggie had clued him in about Dex’s situation.

  “Dex,” he said, “are you coming to the school-lunch pickup on Wednesday?”

  “You’d better,” Maggie interjected. “Angelo’s doing a tropical-island lunch next week. Pigs in a blanket and a fancy fruit salad. It’s going to be great!”

  The boy smiled at Maggie. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

  “Good,” Neil said. “I’ll give Principal Aniston a call and see if we can figure something out about that class you failed. Maybe you could make up the missed assignments through independent study over the summer. I’ll let you know what she says on Wednesday.”

  Dex considered him warily. “All right.” After intercepting a look from Maggie, he added, “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  After Dex and Rory had moved down the cookie assembly line, Maggie leaned in close. She smelled like vanilla and sweet frosting today, simple and honest and wonderfully good.

  “That’s really nice of you, Neil, helping Dex out like that.”

  “I’m not being nice,” he answered quietly. “I’m trying to undo a mistake. I didn’t know about Dex’s situation, but I should have. I would have, if I’d been paying attention. The truth is, I haven’t been pulling my weight at school for a long time, not in the ways that really matter.”

  He half expected Maggie to argue with him, to offer polite platitudes. She didn’t. She just nodded. “Well, Ruby says once you admit there’s a problem, you’re halfway to solving it. I’m so thankful you’re willing to help out with Oliver this summer, but I promise, we won’t take up all your time. You’ll need to work with Dex, too, and I don’t want to be selfish.”

  He doubted there was a selfish bone in this woman’s body. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll make time for Dex, but other than him, this summer I’m all yours.”

  He spoke lightly, casually, but at his words, something not-so-casual glimmered in Maggie’s eyes—something that made his insides play musical chairs.

  All she said was “Brave words from a man with yellow frosting on the tip of his nose.”

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to talk.” He tweaked one of her crooked mouse ears. She flushed and smiled, and he couldn’t help it. He smiled back. “Did you say Wednesday’s lunch is island themed? I don’t have to wear a grass skirt, do I?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Would you?”

  He started to answer, then changed his mind. Better to leave those words unspoken.

  If you asked me to, I don’t know. I just might.

  * * *

  Her pink flamingos kept falling over. At lunchtime the following Wednesday, Maggie dabbed her sweaty forehead—it was blazing hot in the school parking lot—and leaned over to adjust the flock of bright plastic birds she’d scattered in the shrubbery.

  “Stay put,” she muttered.

  “Bad birdie,” Oliver said irritably. Then, for the dozenth time that morning, he said, “Neil?”

  “He’ll be along in a little bit, honey.”

  “Told you those things wasn’t going to stay up.” Angelo was setting up the lunch table with mathematical precision. “We ain’t had rain lately, so the ground’s too hard to jab the sticks in deep.” He tugged at the necklace of plastic flowers Maggie had placed around his neck, his expression pained. “This is getting in my way.” He twisted the garland around so that it dangled down his back.

  Maggie ignored him and stepped around Oliver to straighten another sagging flamingo. As soon as she did, the first one flopped back over.

  “Bad,” Oliver repeated. Yanking off his own flower necklace, he dropped it on the ground beside the fallen bird and stomped it. “Neil!” he demanded petulantly.

  “Soon, sweetie.” Maggie retrieved the smooshed garland and draped it over a nearby bush. “Well, that was a waste of a dollar ninety-nine.”

  “What did you expect?” Angelo asked grouchily. “You always go a little overboard, but this—” He gestured at the huge paper flowers, the leaning flamingos and the multicolored ribbons fluttering around them. “It’s way too much.”

  Maggie didn’t argue. Angelo was right. She’d gone way overboard today, and not only with the decorations.

  After Neil’s grass-skirt joke at the library, she’d thought it would be...funny...to surprise him by wearing an island-themed outfit today. She didn’t own a grass skirt, but there was something else in her closet that fit the bill perfectly.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Maggie tugged irritably at the dress she was wearing. Last summer, it had been her favorite thrift-store find. A rosy cranberry color, it was splotched all over with big white flowers and tied at the side of the waist, falling to an uneven hem that fluttered around her calves. Today, she’d paired it with some strappy little sandals, and she’d even picked a white hydrangea from the yard to tuck behind one ear.

  It had seemed like a cute idea—until she’d sat down at the breakfast table. Ruby had raised her eyes over her coffee cup, remarking that Maggie sure was dressed fancy for passing out sack lunches.

  Then she’d winked and asked if Neil was helping out again today.

  Maggie had flushed. She’d received a lot of compliments on this dress last year, and yes, maybe in the back of her mind, she’d kind of liked the idea of Neil seeing her in something other than an apron and mouse ears.

  Unfortunately, the dress was a little snugger than it had been last summer—all that taste-testing at the bakery added up—and the sandals had pinched angry blisters on her toes. She was donating the whole outfit back to the thrift store first chance she got. Plus, she’d put so much product in her hair that it felt stiff and weird, and like these frustrating flamingos, her hydrangea seemed determined to turn itself upside down.

  An
yway, all her trouble had been for nothing, because—

  “Iceman didn’t show?” Dex separated from the pack of milling teenagers and strolled up to the lunch table. “Figures.”

  “Something came up, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.” Maggie repeated what she’d been telling Oliver all morning. Neil had left a voice mail while she was in the shower. He wouldn’t be able to help make the lunches, but he’d meet her at the school and help pass them out. He hadn’t offered any further explanation. “Where’s Rory today?”

  “With our grandma.” Dex looked disgusted. “She gets tired easy, and I don’t leave him with her too much. But today I thought me and Iceman might need to talk about that independent-study thing, so I told Rory I’d bring his lunch back to him. He likes coming, and he was real disappointed.” He snorted. “Then Iceman ain’t even here. I shoulda known.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be along any minute.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Maggie started to argue, then glanced at her watch. It was already ten minutes past the time they usually started handing out the food.

  So much for that I’m all yours remark the other day. She was embarrassed now to remember how her stomach had fluttered when Neil had said those words.

  “We’d better get started,” Angelo called. “My fruit cups ain’t going to last good in this heat. Besides, I got to get back to the bakery. Inez can only handle things by herself for so long.”

  “Okay.” When she’d explained that Neil would be late, Angelo had insisted on coming along to help. Lately, her boss had been watching her like a grouchy guard dog, ready to woof at anybody he saw as a threat. “Come on, Oliver, and help Mr. Angelo and me hand out the lunches. Won’t that be fun?”

  Oliver scuffed his red tennis shoes in the pine straw around the shrubbery and ignored her. Maggie couldn’t help but notice the difference in the toddler’s attitude. When Neil was around, he seemed so much more open, more willing to interact with Maggie.