more interested in soothing his own conscience than making any kind of amends, but at least he’d tried—again—to set things right, so they could at least be civil to each other.
He figured it was probably too soon and wondered if the anti-Hutch internet campaign would ramp up a notch or two, since several of the key players—Brylee’s friends and employees—had basically witnessed the confrontation.
These days everybody was an ace reporter.
“Well, cowboy man,” he muttered to himself, “you’re batting a thousand. Might as well go for broke.”
Reaching the highway, he rolled on toward Parable.
And Kendra.
* * *
MADISON WAS THRILLED with the new house when Kendra sprang the surprise on the little girl after picking her up at preschool that afternoon, and Daisy was thrilled with the spacious backyard.
The small colonial boasted two quite spacious bedrooms, plus a little cubicle Kendra planned to use as a home office, and two full baths. The kitchen was sunny, with plenty of cupboard space and a small pantry, and there was a large, old-fashioned brick fireplace in the living room. Closer inspection revealed small hooks in the wooden mantel for hanging Christmas stockings.
All in all, the place was perfect—except, of course, for being a rental and therefore impermanent. Kendra had asked Maggie about buying the house, but Maggie was understandably reluctant to sell. She said it would be like putting a price on her childhood, and she couldn’t do that.
“This is my room!” Madison exulted now, standing in the center of the space with window seats and built-in bookshelves and shiny plank floors worn to a warmly aged patina. The folding closet doors were louvered, and the overhead light fixture was small but ornate.
Daisy gave a single joyous bark, as though seconding Madison’s motion and making a claim of her own.
Kendra laughed. “Yes,” she said to both of them. “This is your room.”
“Am I going to have a bed?” Madison inquired matter-of-factly.
“Of course,” Kendra replied. “We’ll visit the furniture store over in Three Trees and you can pick it out yourself.”
The town of Three Trees was actually smaller than Parable by a couple of thousand people, but it boasted a large outlet mall that drew customers from all over that part of the state, along with a movie house, a large bookstore and a Main Street lined with shops.
“Can we go now?” Madison asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Kendra replied. Her gaze fell on Daisy. Shopping for furniture with a puppy in tow didn’t mesh.
The next question was inevitable, not to be forestalled. “Can Daisy come with us?” Madison wanted to know.
Sadly, Kendra shook her head. “That won’t work, sweetie. But she’ll be fine at the guesthouse, I promise.”
Madison mulled that over, then her face brightened again. “All right,” she said. “Daisy must be tired from playing with Lucy all day. She can take a nap while we’re gone.”
“Good thinking,” Kendra said, holding out a hand to her daughter. “Let’s get going.”
Daisy was remarkably cooperative when they got back to the guest cottage. She lapped up half the water in her bowl, munched on some kibble, went outside with Madison to take care of dog business and returned to settle on her soft bed in the kitchen, yawning big.
Kendra’s heart swelled into her throat as Madison crouched next to the puppy, patting its head gently and whispering, “Don’t be scared, okay? Because Mommy and I will be back before it gets dark.”
For the thousandth—if not millionth—time, Kendra wondered what life in that series of foster homes had been like for Madison. Had she felt safe, secure, loved?
According to the social workers, Madison’s care had been exceptional—most foster parents were decent, dedicated people, generous enough to make room in their homes and their hearts for children in crisis.
Still, Madison had been passed around a lot, shuffled from one stand-in family to another. How could she not have been affected by so many changes in her short life?
Kendra was pondering all these things as she fastened the child into her booster seat in the backseat of the Volvo, and then as she slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. “I’m not going anywhere, you know,” she felt compelled to say, making an effort to keep her voice light as they pulled out onto Rodeo Road.
She didn’t so much as glance at the mansion either as they passed it or in the rearview mirror; it might have been rendered invisible.
Maybe, as some scientists claimed, things didn’t actually exist until someone looked at them.
“Yes, you are too going somewhere,” Madison responded, after a few moments of thought. “You’re going to Three Trees so we can buy a bed!”
Kendra laughed, blinked a couple of times and focused her attention on the road, where it belonged. “That isn’t what I meant, silly.”
“My first mommy left,” Madison said, perhaps sensing that Kendra’s conversation was leading somewhere.
“Yes,” Kendra said gently. “I know.”
“But you won’t leave,” Madison said with reassuring conviction. “Because you like being a mommy.”
Kendra sniffled. Blinked again, hard. “I love being your mommy,” she replied. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, kiddo. Remember that, okay?”
“Okay,” Madison said, her tone almost breezy. “Some of the kids at preschool have daddies, not just mommies.”
The ache of emotion slipped from Kendra’s throat to settle into her heart. Part of the child’s remark echoed to the very center of her soul. Not just mommies.
“My daddy died,” Madison went on. It was an exchange they’d had before, but repeating the facts seemed to comfort the little girl somehow, to anchor her in a new and better present. “He’s in heaven.”
“Yes,” Kendra said, thick-voiced. She considered pulling over for a few moments, in order to pull herself together. “But he loved you very much. That’s why he sent me to find you.”
Thank you for that, Jeffrey. In spite of everything else, thank you for bringing Madison into my life.
The topic ricocheted with the speed of a bullet. “Is the cowboy man somebody’s daddy?”
The question pierced Kendra’s heart like an arrow. They were near the park, and she pulled over in the shade of a row of hundred-year-old maples, all dressed up in leafy green for summer, to regain her composure.
“I don’t think so,” she managed, after swallowing hard.
“I like the cowboy man,” Madison said. A short pause followed and when she spoke again she sounded puzzled. “Why are we stopping, Mommy?”
Kendra touched the back of her right hand to one cheek, then the other. “I just needed a moment,” she said.
“Are you crying?” Madison sounded worried now.
“Yes,” Kendra answered, because it was her policy never to lie to the child, if it could be avoided.
“Why?”
“Because I’m happy,” Kendra said. And that was the truth. She was happy and she was grateful. She had a great life.
Still, there was the daddy thing.
As a little girl, lonely and adrift, tolerated by her grandmother rather than loved, Kendra had longed for a father even more than she had for a dog or a kitten. She could still feel the ache of that singular yearning to be carried, laughing, on strong