Single Dad's Bride

by Melinda Minx

  “She was with her grandparents,” he says. “We stopped them because they looked really nervous. You daughter spoke up, too, Mr. Shepherd. When we ran their IDs, we saw that an arrest warrant had just been put out on them a few hours before.”

  “You have Elsie? She’s safe?”

  “We have her in the station, and an officer is watching her at all times.”

  I sigh in relief, but I’m furious. She came this close to being taken away from me. I may have never found her again if they hadn’t been stopped at the border.

  What is Elsie going to think about all this? She’s going to be terrified, isn’t she? How can she ever feel safe again, knowing that shit like this can happen to her? She’s too young to learn such harsh truths.

  “What about Sheryl and Michael?” I ask.

  I wanted the law to go easy on them before, but now I want to see them rot.

  “I don’t know,” Reyes says. “They’re being held, but I can’t tell you what will happen from here. They won’t walk free, that’s all I know.”

  “Good,” I say.

  Elsie can feel safer if she knows they can’t get to her.

  I hear the door open, and I see Rita and Anna walking in with a bunch of grocery bags. As soon as they see my face, they drop the bags and ask me what happened.

  “Give me an address,” I say.

  Reyes tells me his address and gives me a callback number. I write it down, then hang up.

  “You guys want to go on an impromptu vacation to Mexico?” I ask, grinning.

  26

  Rita

  We drive from the airport to the police station. I still can’t believe that Stacy’s parents would kidnap Elsie. It’s one thing to run away on their own, but to take Elsie with them is pure evil.

  “I hope I don’t see them,” I say, seething. “I don’t know what I’d do if—”

  “They’re gone,” I say. “They were taken back up to Pittsburgh already. Lawson is going to rip two new holes in their asses, is my guess.”

  “How do you know?” I ask. “Did you talk to her?”

  “I called her up,” I say. “And told her I changed my mind, that I don’t want anyone going easy on them.”

  I laugh. “I can’t believe you did that, Deacon.”

  “Lawson told me the same thing she said when I said I wanted to go easy on them, that it’s not up to me, but that they need to be brought to justice. She said they need to pay for their crimes,” I say. “And she sounded really into that pay part.”

  “Good,” I say, nodding. “They do need to pay. Poor Elsie.”

  Anna leans in between us from the back seat. “You sure this is a good idea, Deacon?”

  He nods. “Think about it. If we just fly right back to Pittsburgh, her whole memory of this will be how scared she was, and rushing her right back home will solidify that memory. If we turn it into something fun, that will be what she remembers.”

  I’m not sure I agree with Deacon, but he seems confident, and at this point, I doubt that trying to salvage the whole ordeal by following his plan could be any worse than what’s already happened.

  We reach the police station, and as soon as Deacon shows his ID to the officer at the desk, he picks up a phone.

  Elsie rushes into the hallway just a few moments later, and she hits Deacon so hard I wonder if she might knock him back. He reaches down, lifts her up into the air, and hugs her tight against him. They both laugh as he spins her around.

  “Daddy! I’m getting dizzy!” she shouts.

  He stops spinning her around and sets her down on her feet. “Sorry, I was just too excited to see you.”

  Elsie wobbles over and gives me a big hug, and then she hugs Anna.

  I feel my eyes tearing up, and I go to wipe them with my sleeve, but I realize I’m wearing a t-shirt, so I just use my hand.

  “Don’t be sad, Rita,” Elsie says. “We’re all together again now.”

  “I know, sweetie,” I say. “I’m just so happy that I’m crying, that’s all.”

  “I only cry when I’m sad,” Elsie says. “Or when I want to make Daddy do something for me that he doesn’t want to do.”

  “I knew it!” Deacon says, pointing. “I knew you were faking it!”

  “It’s not fake!” she says. “If I really want something, I get sad and cry.”

  Deacon grins. “What do you want now? I have an idea for something fun we can do while we’re here.”

  “Really?” Elsie asks. “I don’t really know where we are, Grandma and Grandpa wouldn’t tell me.”

  Deacon crouches down and gets close to Elsie. He holds his palm up facing her, and draws on it with a finger. “We’re right here, in Texas. Do you know what Texas is?”

  “No,” she says.

  “It’s a state, like Pennsylvania, but way further south. It’s on the edge of the country, so if you go any further south—south is down—than we are right now, we’ll go into Mexico, which is another country.”

  “I know about Mexico,” Elsie says. “So we can go there?”

  “If you want,” Deacon says.

  Elsie takes no time to consider it. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

  We drive down to Chihuahua, and Elsie keeps her face glued to the window for the first hour or two of the drive.

  “You ever see mountains like this?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “I’ve only seen grass mountains, and these are rock mountains. Can we go to the top?”

  “Not on these,” I say. “But once we get to Chihuahua, there will be mountains we can hike up.”

  “Chihuahua?” Elsie says, face lighting up. “Are we getting a doggy?”

  Deacon laughs. “No, we’re going to the place so famous for Chihuahuas that they named the city after them.”

  “So I can see some doggies?”

  “Definitely,” I say.

  Deacon leans in close to me and whispers, “Maybe we can get a dog.”

  We start hiking the mountain early the next day. Once the sun starts to rise, I hand Elsie a bottle of water. “You need to keep drinking more than you’re used to. The air is a lot drier here, so you’ll get thirsty much faster. We have plenty of water, so drink up.”

  Deacon holds my hand as we hike up the trail. This trail is supposed to give us a nice view of the city once we reach the top, but reaching the top will take well over an hour. I start to feel sweaty, but I realize that the sweat evaporates almost right away.

  “It’s getting hot,” I say.

  Deacon smiles. “Feels good, huh?”

  “I wanna get a sun burn!” Elsie says. “Can we go swimming later?”

  “A suntan?” Anna says. “Sunburn is when you’re red like a lobster and it hurts really bad.”

  “You’re too young for that,” Deacon says. “We can go swimming, but you have to use sunscreen.”

  Elsie pouts, and I show her my pasty white arms. “Look, Elsie, I don’t have a tan either. It’s much better for your skin to avoid the sun.”

  We’re all covered in sunscreen just for the hike. I’m planning to reapply it every few hours to avoid any risk of getting a sunburn.

  Deacon starts to carry Elsie on his shoulders when she gets tired, and soon we reach the top of the hiking trail. It’s not the actual top of the mountain—the mountain gets too steep near the top—but it’s high enough up that there’s supposed to be a really amazing view.

  We reach an area where there are some rocks jutting out, and Elsie tries to run toward the edge. Deacon snatches her up off her feet and says, “Careful! This is a serious cliff. It’s not like in a cartoon where you’ll keep running after you’re over the edge. You’d fall right down.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elsie says. “Why would I keep running? Of course I’d fall down. I was gonna stop!”

  “I need to force you to watch the Roadrunner; cartoons these days…”

  “You sound so old, Deacon,” I say, laughing.

  Elsie holds my hand on one side, and
Deacon’s on the other, and we carefully approach the edge. Anna gets her camera out and starts taking pictures.

  “Woah!” Elsie says. “We must be like 100 miles up in the air!”

  The city looks tiny from here, and it’s an amazing view. There are more mountains all around the city, and there is a thin layer of fog covering the city. The fog makes everything look dreamlike and surreal.

  “You won’t forget this,” Deacon says. “Right, Elsie?”

  “Why would I forget it?” Elsie asks.

  “Never mind,” Deacon says.

  Another family comes up to us then, and Deacon asks them in Spanish if they can take a photo of us. The father takes the camera from Deacon and smiles at us.

  I stand next to Deacon, holding his hand, and Elsie gets in front of us. Anna puts her arm around me, and we all smile as the father holds up the camera and snaps some photos.

  Even without the photo, I’d definitely never forget. The trip was a really great idea,

  27

  Deacon

  “Oh my God!” Elsie says. “Doggies! Dad! Look! Look! Dad! You’re not looking!”

  “I’m looking!” I say. “Calm down!”

  “They are so cute!” Elsie says. “What does it say, what’s the sign say?”

  I look at the sign and translate it for Elsie. “It says they are dogs that need a good home. Rescue dogs.”

  There are six little Chihuahuas in a pen outside, and they are all wagging their tails and putting their paws onto the sides of the pen, begging for Elsie’s attention.

  “Those cute little dogs can rescue people?” Elsie asks.

  “No,” Rita says. “It means they need to be rescued.”

  “From what?” Elsie asks.

  “Someone bought them,” Deacon says. “But then decided it was too much work to take care of them. Isn’t that terrible, Elsie? For someone to not realize what a big and important responsibility it is to take care of a dog?”

  Rita smiles.

  “Wow,” Elsie says. “This one likes me.”

  One of the Chihuahuas is licking her hands and staring at her with big wide eyes.

  A man comes up and says to her in English, “Pick her up!”

  “Can I?” Elsie asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  Elsie reaches down and picks up the dog. She curls up against Elsie’s chest, and pulls her big ears back, tail still wagging.

  “Looks like she found her new home,” Anna says.

  “Can I rescue her?” Elsie asks. “I want to name her Chihuahua.”

  The man laughs. “They’re all Chihuahuas!”

  “This one is my Chihuahua,” Elsie says.

  Epilogue

  “Can she be my real sister, Mom?” Elsie asks me.

  I smile. “She is your real sister,” I say.

  “Brandon said she’s only my half-sister.”

  “Technically, yes,” I say, lowering Dina down into her crib.

  Deacon puts an arm around me. “Two girls…a house full of girls.”

  Dina was born only five days ago. It doesn’t even feel real yet.

  “A half-sister is a real sister,” Deacon says. “Just treat her like your sister, and you two will be sisters. Being a big sister is a lot of work, Elsie, you have to teach Dina a lot.”

  “Isn’t that your job?” Elsie asks Deacon.

  I laugh. “It’s all of our jobs, sweetie, we have to work together to make Dina feel welcome, and to teach her how to be a good person.”

  Chihuahua rushes into the room, lets out an excited yelp, and stands up so her claws are pressed against the crib. She wags her tail.

  Chihuahua has been obsessed with Dina ever since we brought her home. Elsie thinks it’s because Dina is the only person in the house smaller than Chihuahua.

  “I taught Chihuahua to be a good girl,” Elsie says. “I can teach Dina, too. Can Chihuahua give Dina a kiss?”

  “Dina needs to rest now,” I say. “Maybe later. Can you get Chihuahua to be a good girl and let Dina sleep?”

  Elsie pets Chihuahua and says, “Chihuahua, sit!”

  Chihuahua looks up at Elsie with a rebellious stare, and I can tell just from that look that the dog knows what she’s supposed to do, but doesn’t want to.

  Chihuahua looks back toward Dina.

  “Chihuhua!” Elsie says, voice firm. “Sit!”

  Chihuahua looks back at Elsie again, then drops her paws from the crib. She sits down, wagging her tail and pulling her ears back.

  “Good girl!” Elsie says, hugging the little dog.

  I go to take Elsie and Chihuahua on a walk to give Rita some moments of peace with Dina asleep. Chihuahua finds a stick and tries to pick it up, but it’s too big for her, and she keeps dropping it.

  Elsie laughs and giggles at the little dog’s valiant attempt.

  I reach into the grass and find a smaller stick, then hand it to Chihuahua. She quickly forgets the big stick, and she runs forward with her head held high and tail wagging

  “She looks proud, huh?” I ask Elsie.

  “Yeah,” Elsie says.

  “When Dina gets older,” I say, “You can help her like that. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Elsie says.

  “You’ll be the older sister, and Dina will look up to you. Sometimes you might see Dina biting off more than she can chew, but you have to make her feel accomplished for what she can do.”

  “Dina is already pretty strong,” Elsie says, “I think she’ll be able to carry a big stick.”

  “Not just with sticks,” I say, “With anything she does. You just want to encourage her when she’s struggling.”

  “Okay,” Elsie says.

  I give up teaching the lesson. Sometimes I don’t know how much Elsie really internalizes, and sometimes I think she’s not listening to a word I say. But then, sometimes weeks or months later, she’ll do something or say something that shows she really was paying attention. So I’m trying to teach her to do right by her sister from day 1. That way she won’t tease Dina like I used to tease Anna.

  When we get back inside, Chihuhua slurps loudly at her water bowl, nearly dunking her head into the bowl.

  I look over and see that Rita is holding Dina in her arms, and Dina is squeezing Rita’s thumb with her little hand.

  “She’s squeezing my finger,” Rita says, smiling. “She’s got a strong grip.”

  Elsie reaches a hand out and gently presses her pinky finger into Dina’s wrinkled and pink little palm. Dina squeezes.

  “Wow,” Elsie says, “She is really strong, I told you! Good job, Dina!”

  I smile.

  “Dad,” Elsie says, “She really is strong! I’m not just lying to make her feel better like you told me to—“

  Rita flashes me a look.

  Okay, and sometimes Elsie misunderstands the lesson I try to teach her, and it gets Rita mad at me.

  I just sigh and laugh, feeling thankful as hell that everything worked out in the end. I’ve got my family, and nothing can take that away from me now.

  28

  Extended Epilogue

  Click here to join my mailing list and get the extended epilogue for Single Dad’s Bride. Join Rita, Deacon, Elsie and Dina as they hit the road to Miami!

  Smolder by Melinda Minx

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  1

  Andrea

  Snow. Shit. Snow. It wasn’t supposed to snow.

  Never hike alone! the sign read.

  But my friend bailed on me, and it wasn’t supposed to snow.

  Thick flakes are drifting down all around me, and they’re sticking to the ground. I’ve been walking down the trail for well over an hour, pushing on two. The trail was easy to follow, but it’s going to be dark soon, and once the trail is covered in fresh snow, I won’t be able to tell where I’m going.

  I tug off one of my cotton gloves with my teeth. I hold the glove in my mout
h while I unzip the side pocket of my jacket and pull out my phone. No signal. Of course not.

  The main thing I need to do is not to panic. Even with the snow, I just need to keep heading west. The sun is setting, so if I just follow it, I know I’m going the right way.

  The soft, fluffy flurries lash against my face as a bone-chilling gust of winter air blasts through the forest.

  “Don’t panic,” I mumble to myself.

  I keep walking in the direction of the burning ember of the sun, but it falls below the horizon much faster than I’d expected, and the moon casts little more than pale light onto the fresh snow.

  I’m suddenly enveloped in darkness, walking blindly through what feels like a few inches of snow. It’s getting deeper by the minute. Deeper and harder to walk through. Deeper and colder.

  My thin gloves, jacket and jeans are quickly becoming insufficient against the blustery weather. Each wintry gust saps more warmth out of me, and I have to open and close my hands to keep my fingers from going numb. The wet snow soaks through my shoes, and there’s no way at all for me to keep my toes warm.

  I keep checking my phone as I stumble through the dark forest. Am I still on the trail? How long will I need to walk before I see the lights from town?

  I have a map in my bag. I pull it out and light it up with the flashlight app on my phone. I realize that a map is only useful if you have the slightest idea of where you are. What I really need is GPS.

  Still no signal on my phone. I swear I had a signal on the way in because I texted Lindsay to let her know how much fun I was having without her.

  Never go hiking alone. It had been boldly painted on the top of the sign in huge red letters with three exclamation points. I’m an idiot.

  I study the map anyway. The whole trail is sixteen miles, but it wraps around a lot. The forest itself is ten miles at its widest point. There’s no way I walked five miles in, so as long as I go in a relatively straight line for a few miles, I should exit the forest.