“Are all the horses at the ranch yours?” Slade took a bite of his hamburger.
“No, I stable some. That brings me some needed income to do what I love.”
“The therapeutic riding program?”
Tory nodded. “I’ll need to get back to the ranch before dark. I still have some chores to do.”
“Are you through, Mindy?” Slade tossed his napkin on the table.
The little girl gulped down the rest of her chocolate milk.
“Yep,” she said, displaying a creamy brown mustache.
Slade took her napkin and wiped her mouth. “We’d better go. You have a big day tomorrow. You’ve got physical therapy in the morning.”
Mindy pouted. “Do—I—have to?”
“It won’t be long, sweetie, before you won’t have to. But for now, yes.”
After paying for the dinner, Slade escorted Mindy and Tory to his car. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot at the speech therapist’s office.
He glanced at Mindy in the back seat and smiled. “She still falls asleep riding in the car when she’s exhausted.”
“She worked hard today at the barn. She also rode.” Tory pushed her door open and was surprised when she saw Slade get out of the car, too. “I’m only parked a few feet away.”
“I know,” he said, coming around the front of his car. “But I felt I owed you an explanation about what happened earlier with Mindy. And I don’t want her waking up and overhearing.”
The spring air cooled Tory’s cheeks and the soft wind blew stray strands of her hair about her face. She brushed them behind her ears, the scent of freshly mowed grass lacing the breeze. “You don’t need to explain anything.” She moved the few feet to her truck door, aware of Slade’s presence in every fiber of her being. She clutched the handle.
“After the accident, I couldn’t get Mindy to ride in a car for months. Finally she does, now, but any mention of a car wreck and she falls apart. I try to shelter her from hearing about any accidents, but sometimes I can’t.”
“Like today when she was listening to the radio.”
“She loves to listen to music. She usually listens to CDs.”
“But I turned the radio on before you could put a CD in. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I was just trying to help since you were focused on driving.”
He took a step toward her. Her heart skipped a beat. She plastered her back against her door, her hands tightening into fists.
“We’ve always listened to the radio while doing the chores in the barn,” she said, needing to talk to take her mind off his nearness.
“I’m not telling you to make you upset. I just wanted you to know some of the things that Mindy is still coping with.”
“Is there anything else? I don’t want to be the cause of any more anxiety.”
“She still wakes up from nightmares. Thankfully not lately. I’m hoping those are behind her.” He raked both hands through his hair, a look of anguish on his face. “Because frankly I have a hard time coping with seeing my daughter like that.”
“From what I saw back there, you did a wonderful job of reassuring her. That’s all you can do.” The hammering of her heart eased as the conversation centered on Mindy.
“Is it? There should be something else I can do to make things better for Mindy.” Rubbing one hand along the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders to relax the tension gripping him.
But Tory saw its continual grasp on him in his taut stance and the grim lines craving his expression. “Being there for Mindy is the most important thing you can do.”
“The wreck should never have happened. If only—”
Instantly, without thought, Tory started to lay her fingers over his mouth to still his words. She froze in midaction, her eyes widening. His gaze riveted to hers. For a few seconds everything came to a standstill.
Dropping her arm to her side, she said in a strained voice, “It doesn’t do us any good to think about the what-ifs. We can’t change the past. We can only influence the present.”
“Live for today? Forget about the past?”
“Right.” If only she could heed her own advice. She was trying, but there were times it was so difficult.
“Have you been successful doing that?”
She forced a smile. “I’m working on it.”
“In other words, no.”
Tory yanked open her truck door. “I’d better be going. I still have a lot of things to do before dark.” She escaped into the quiet of her pickup, determined to keep her eyes trained forward. But even though she didn’t look at Slade, she felt his probing observation delve deep inside, seeking answers about her past, something she guarded closely and never wanted to relive. And above all, certainly didn’t want to share with anyone.
Quickly she backed out of the parking space, and as she pulled out into traffic, she chanced a glance at Slade. He stood where she had left him, a bewildered look on his face. After that evasive move, she wondered if he would bring Mindy tomorrow to the ranch.
* * *
Out on her front porch Tory eased herself into the old rocker and raised her glass of iced tea to press it against her heated face. The coldness felt wonderful after Tory had spent most of the day doing the work of two people. She needed to hire someone to help her, but that just wasn’t possible at the moment, especially after the notice she’d received from the bank today.
Resting her head, she closed her eyes and continued to roll the glass over her flushed skin. At least Slade brought Mindy out late this morning. The child’s cheerful attitude was a balm that soothed those long hours of work and her fretting over where the money for the loan was going to come from. With Mindy next to her, she repaired the fence in one pasture and even had time for the child to ride this afternoon after the three o’clock lesson. Every day Mindy was improving, self-confident when she handled the new mare.
When Tory thought about the little girl eagerly handing her the nails for the fence, Tory’s heart swelled. She wanted children so badly—her niece and nephew weren’t enough. Even the children she taught didn’t fulfill the void in her heart. It was that simple and that complex. She released a long sigh and finally took a sip of her drink.
A scream rent the air. Tory bolted to her feet, the glass crashing to the wooden planks of the porch. Leaping over the mess, she rushed for the door and wrenched it open as another scream vibrated down her length.
In the living room Mindy sat ramrod straight on the couch with her eyes so huge that was all Tory could focus on. She was at the child’s side in an instant that seemed to take forever.
Hugging Mindy to her, she murmured, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I—I—” The child tried to drag air into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to get a decent breath.
“Take it easy. Relax. One breath at a time, Mindy.” Tory willed her voice to stay calm while inside she quaked, the beat of her pulse roaring in her ears.
Finally Mindy managed to inhale and exhale a deep breath, then another. But the fright remained in her eyes as the little girl looked at Tory.
“I—I—heard—” Mindy started to hyperventilate.
“Nice and easy, baby. Heard what?”
“Mom-my—cry.”
Tory wanted to say the right thing. Her mind went blank. Oh, Lord, please give me the strength to help her, to soothe her pain. “Did you have a bad dream?”
Tears welled in Mindy’s eyes as she nodded. Tory framed the child’s face and tugged her toward her, laying her head on her chest and pressing her close.
“It was only a dream, baby. Not real.”
“I—know.” Mindy hiccuped. “Still—” A shudder rippled down the child’s length.
“It seemed real to you?”
Mindy nodded, her breath catching. “I didn’t—” Again the child fought for her next words. “Say—bye.”
Tory wrapped her arms tighter about the little girl, wanting to hold her and never let her go. “Did you go to
the funeral?”
Mindy shook her head. “In hosp-it—” She didn’t finish the word.
“I’m sorry, baby. Have you talked to your dad about this?”
“No.” Her muffled reply came out on the end of a sob.
“He should know. Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
Mindy pulled back, tears still shining in her eyes. “Plee-ze.”
“Are you sure?”
“I—can’t make—him sad.”
Mindy’s own sadness tore at Tory’s composure, leaving it shredded. In that moment she would do anything for the child. Was this how mothers felt about their children? “Then I’ll talk to him.”
Mindy’s stomach rumbled.
“I think a certain little girl is hungry. You did a lot today. Why don’t you help me with dinner? When your father comes to pick you up, I’ll see if he would like to stay and eat.”
Mindy labored to her feet with her good hand reaching out to grasp Tory’s. “Good. Dad-dy—doesn’t—uh—cook.”
“What have you two been eating since Mrs. Watson left?”
“Piz-za—take—” frustration pinched Mindy’s features into a frown “—out.”
“Well, then tonight you two will have a home-cooked dinner. I pride myself on my cooking skills.”
Tory rose and walked with Mindy into the kitchen, a large, cheerful room with plenty of sunlight and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the pasture behind the house. Blue, yellow and orange wildflowers littered the meadow as though a painter’s palette had been dumped there. A huge oak tree with a tire swing stood sentinel over the backyard.
“Do you like spaghetti?” Tory asked, going to the sink to wash her hands.
“Yes!” Mindy followed suit and used a paper towel to dry them.
“Then that’s what we’ll have. I’ll chop up the onions while you man the skillet and brown the ground beef.”
“I’m—the cook? I’ve—never.”
“You’re eight. It’s about time you started. I can teach you.” The second Tory said the last sentence she realized she might not be able to carry through with her promise. She was assuming more than she should and wished that were different. Since Mindy came into her life, she’d found an added purpose that had been lacking before.
“Wait—till—Dad-dy sees—this.” Wearing an apron, Mindy stood on a stool to brown the meat using a wooden spoon and a gloved hot pad.
An hour later the doorbell rang. Tory left Mindy to finish setting the table while she hurried into the entry hall. She opened the screen door to admit Slade, looking tired but with a smile of greeting on his face. Stepping into the house, he drew in a lungful of air, peppered with the scents of onion, ground beef and baking bread, and licked his lips.
“What do I have to do to wrangle an invitation to dinner out of you?” he asked as he made his way back to the kitchen where Mindy was seated at the large oak table in front of the bay window.
“I—picked—these.” Mindy pointed to a glass vase full of multicolored wildflowers from the meadow behind the house.
“Does this mean we are staying?” Slade asked, eagerness replacing the lines of exhaustion on his face.
“Unless you have somewhere else you need to be.” Tory removed the loaf of French bread from the oven and placed it in the center of the table. “Mindy didn’t think you would mind since you’re probably sick of take-out.”
Slade walked to the stove and peered into the large pot of simmering spaghetti sauce. “I must have done something right today. This smells divine.”
“You’d probably say that about anything you didn’t have to fix or order at a fast-food place.”
“True. But this exceeds anything I could have imagined.”
Heat scored her cheeks. She was always uncomfortable with compliments. “Have a seat next to Mindy,” Tory said, and dished up the food.
After placing the bowls on the table, she sat across from Slade and said, “Mindy, do you want to say the prayer?”
The little girl clasped her hands and bowed her head. “Thank—you, Lord, for—” Mindy lifted her head, her brow wrinkled in thought “—for this.”
The simple but effective prayer brought a lump to Tory’s throat. Every day, Mindy’s bravery was a wonderful example to her. The child had to relearn so many things, but not much got her down. Tory was sure the girl’s frame of mind was part of the reason for her fast recovery.
After dishing up his food, Slade slid his forkful of spaghetti covered in the thick meat sauce into his mouth. He closed his eyes, a look of contentment on his face. “I can’t believe it, but it tastes even better than it smells.”
“Mindy was the best little helper I could have.”
The eight-year-old straightened her shoulders and announced, “I put—spa—this—in the water.” Mindy gestured toward the spaghetti. “Salt—too.”
“I didn’t realize you could cook, sweetheart. I’ll have to get you to fix something for me.”
“Real-ly?” Mindy’s eyes grew big and round.
“Yeah. Maybe Mrs. Watson will let you help her in the kitchen and teach you some dishes.”
“Have you heard from Mrs. Watson?” Tory asked while breaking off a slice of buttered bread from the warm loaf.
“She called last night to tell me her niece and baby boy are doing fine. She’ll probably be back by the first of next week. She’s going to stay a few days longer than planned.”
“Well, if you need me to watch Mindy at the first of next week, that’ll be fine with me.”
“Yip-pee!” Mindy clapped and bounced in her chair. “We—could—cook—again.”
“That would be great,” Tory said, her regard resting on Slade, waiting for his answer to her offer.
“How can I say no, especially if I can get another dinner out of it?”
“Are you wrangling for another invitation to dinner?” Tory grinned, responding to the teasing light in his blue eyes.
“You’re a sharp lady.”
“I have my moments. What do you like to eat?”
“Anything that doesn’t move.”
“My, that leaves the door wide-open. Are you sure you don’t want to narrow it down some?”
“I’ll put myself in you two ladies’ hands. After all, you’re doing me a favor so I can’t be too demanding.”
The word demanding sent a chill down Tory’s spine. She clenched her fork and dropped her gaze to her half-empty plate. “Mindy and I will come up with something.”
“Our—uh—secret,” Mindy said with a giggle.
For the next few minutes while everyone finished their dinner, silence dominated the large kitchen except for the ticking of the clock over the desk by the phone. Mindy finished first, dragging the napkin across her face.
“Can I—swing—on the—tire?” the little girl asked Tory.
“Sure, if it’s okay with your father.”
“I’ll walk you out there.” Slade rose.
“No, Dad-dy—I can—do it—by my-self.” Mindy pushed to her feet and started for the back door.
Slade took a step toward his daughter.
“She’ll be all right. She went by herself to pick the flowers for the table. She wanted to surprise you with them.”
Slade peered at Tory, worry in his gaze. The door opened and closed, its sound emphasizing Mindy’s need for independence.
“I’m letting her do some things alone. It’s important to her.”
“But she still falls sometimes.”
“All children fall. In fact, earlier today she fell in the barn, but she picked herself up and continued with what she was doing.”
Slade stared out the large window that afforded him a good view of the oak tree with the tire hanging from it. He watched his daughter wiggle her body through the hole and lie on her stomach. He scrubbed his hands down his face and forced his attention away from Mindy. “Can I help you clean up?”
“I’ll get—” Tory saw Slade’s need to keep busy and said
instead, “Sure. I’ll rinse. You put the dishes in the dishwasher.”
“I think I can manage that.”
While Tory put the leftover food in the refrigerator, Slade cleared the dirty dishes from the table and stacked them beside the sink. A couple of times his gaze strayed toward the window, his mouth pinched in a frown.
“It’s hard letting go.” Tory turned the water on to rinse off the worst of the food before handing the dish to Slade.
“Yes. Mindy’s been through her share of pain and then some. I don’t want her to have to suffer anymore.”
“All parents feel that way, but suffering is part of life. In fact, it probably makes us stronger people.” At least, that’s what I keep telling myself while going through my own ordeal, Tory thought.
“She’s eight years old. Enough is enough.”
“She’s done a wonderful job of bouncing back.”
“She still has a ways to go.”
“But she will make it. I predict this time next year you won’t be able to keep up with her and she’ll talk your ear off.”
“I look forward to that prediction coming true.” Slade closed the door to the dishwasher and leaned back on the counter, his arms folded over his chest. “You really think she’s doing okay?”
Tory smiled. “Yes. You should see her with the young riders. I have a class of three-, four-and five-year-olds and she’s great with them. Like a pro.”
“Speaking of classes, Mindy tells me about how hard you work to keep this operation up and running. You could use some help around here.”
“Don’t I know it. But that costs money, money I don’t have.”
“After Mrs. Watson returns and things settle down, I could take a look at your books and see if I can help in any way. Even though I’m not an accountant, I’ve taken a few classes in order to help me with my business.”
Tory lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. With the stable, I’ve learned to accept help where given.” She wiped down the sink, then draped the washcloth over the edge. “I told Mindy I would talk to you about something that happened earlier today.”
“This doesn’t sound good.”
“She had a bad dream this afternoon while she was taking a nap. She told me she remembers her mother crying the last time she saw her.”
A Family for Tory Page 3