Triplets Find a Mom

“Maybe I should see if he wants to join us for burgers.” Polly gripped the door.

Sam came to a halt in her yard. His raised hand fell to his side.

She smiled and worked up the courage to say, “Hi, it looks like you’re thinking what I’m thinking …”

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “That your dog has my hat?”

“Your … Oh, no! You set it on the driveway, didn’t you?” She glanced back in time to see the animal give the hat a shake. “No!”

Sam put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. Probably unable to look at what the dog had done.

“I am so sorry.” She hurried to the back door, reached in and grabbed the hat by the brim. It took a firm tug to rescue it, but she held it out to him.

He looked down, his expression guarded.

Polly stared at the damp brim and the crown the dog had shaken into a shapeless wonder. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“What’s done is done.” Finally he put his own hand up and turned his head to one side as if to say, I don’t want it now. “It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. It was just an old Christmas gift from my wife.”

“Wife?” Now she felt careless and a bit silly. “I didn’t think you were—”

“My late wife,” he clarified. He frowned down at the mash up of brim and crown. “Hmm. Well, okay, then. I guess that’s the end of that.”

He flicked it with one finger as if to say, Goodbye, old friend, then raised his hand in a sort of salute to her, turned and headed for his truck.

“Your taking this so well only makes me feel worse,” she called after him. “Isn’t there something I can do with it?”

“Maybe we can cut ear holes in it and let the dog wear it.” He didn’t look back.

Polly climbed into the car and looked her only friend in all of Baconburg in the eye. Poor little thing. Of all of God’s creatures, he could understand her fear, sadness, embarrassment and loneliness when she said, “Maybe Essie was right. Maybe running away isn’t going to be the big solution to my problems that I thought it would be.”

Chapter Two

“So, let me get this straight.” Sam’s sister, Gina, slipped off her computer glasses and aimed her sharp-eyed gaze at him. “You just left your hat in her hands and drove off?”

“Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to wear it home.” Sam moved around the kitchen table gathering up the three empty bowls where a few minutes ago his daughters had been eating ice cream. He stacked Juliette’s “sprinkles, please, Daddy, and no nuts” dish inside Hayley’s “chocolate on chocolate with a side of chocolate” one. Finally he took up Caroline’s “whatever you give me is fine, Daddy” dish, held them up and said to his sister, “Anyone who thinks those girls are completely identical has never had to feed them.”

“Don’t try to change the subject on me.” Gina wriggled in the high-backed oak chair, then kicked it up on two legs, bracing her hiking shoe against the table leg to stabilize herself. “Marie gave you that hat.”

“I am well aware.” Sam plunked the bowls into the sink. He turned on the water to rinse them out and said, loudly enough to be heard over the splashing, “By the way, if Mom were here she’d tell you she didn’t care if you are the owner of this place now, you keep both your feet and all the chair legs on the floor, young lady.”

Gina rocked the chair slightly and crossed her arms defiantly, not even flinching when her long, dark blond braid got snagged under one arm. “Tell me again who this woman is.”

“Mom?” He faked surprise to cover his determination not to prolong any discussion of Polly Bennett. “I know she and Dad have been living in Florida for a few years now, but—”

“You know who I mean. The mysterious woman who got you to help rescue a dog. A dog, Sam. That’s huge for you.”

He finished washing up the dishes, then moved to drying them off with the towel that usually hung from the handle of the oven door. “I don’t dislike dogs and she’s not mysterious. Her name is Polly Bennett from Atlanta, Georgia.”

“New in town?”

“Didn’t say.” He put the bowls up and shut the cabinet, wishing he could finish up this conversation that easily. He wouldn’t normally have even mentioned any of this to Gin, but she had asked if he had left his hat at work when he’d come home. And when she didn’t get an answer had wondered aloud if he had left it in her truck and she’d have to get it out of there later. She wouldn’t let it go, even several hours later.

“You don’t suppose this Polly Bennett is the new schoolteacher?” Gina asked.

“Thought of that myself.” But he’d dismissed it almost instantly. Polly Bennett, with her wild, dark hair, her fresh face and pint-size stature, didn’t look like any grade-school teacher he’d ever had. “But then I remembered you said word on the grapevine was they’d gone with someone born here in Baconburg.”

“That’s right.” The chair legs came clunking down. She shifted her laptop around on the table as if she was about to get back to work promoting the farm’s upcoming fall pumpkin-themed festival, the Pumpkin Jump, online. Instead she looked up at him again. “And you just left your hat with a stranger?”

“Stop this ride.” He held up his hands. “I am not going around again.”

“Fine.” She leaned in over her keyboard and put her fingers over the touch pad. But always one to want the last word, she said, “You know, they say if you leave something at a person’s house, it’s a subconscious way of giving yourself an excuse to go back.”

“Then they don’t know me because I don’t go back.” He headed out the kitchen door into the hallway.

“Walking away is not the same as moving forward, you know.”

“I’m not walking away. I’m going to check on the girls and tell them good-night.” He paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Good luck with that.”

“I don’t believe in luck. I believe in God’s blessings.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said it, but the words, and thinking of the woman who had said them, actually made him smile.

“Fine, go say good-night to your little blessings. Remember they’re all wired up about getting their classroom assignments tomorrow. I hope you’re ready to deal with the fallout.”

“I was born ready.” Whatever came his way, Sam met it, wrestled with it, made it his or left it behind. Nothing slowed him down. Full speed ahead. Farm kid. College football hero. Hometown business owner. Husband. Father. Widower. Single dad to three six-year-old girls.

He moved forward, always forward, tackling every new role with his faith to uphold him. When he made up his mind, applied his experience and attitude, he could handle anything.

Except second grade.

Sam took a deep breath, stepped into the doorway of the room shared by his daughters and made one loud clap of his hands. “Big day tomorrow, girls! Second-grade registration and we find out who your new teachers will be.”

“There’s only one new teacher,” Hayley, the most outspoken of the three, reminded him.

As if he needed reminding. Three second-grade classes at Van Buren Elementary, three Goodacre girls aching for a chance to be teacher’s pet to somebody who hadn’t known them since they were toddlers. A school with a policy not to put multiples in the same classroom, and one new teacher. He didn’t have to be a math whiz to know he was going to have a couple of upset girls tomorrow, maybe for a big part of the whole school year.

“Okay, let’s not borrow trouble.” Especially not triple trouble, he thought. “We’ll deal with whoever gets the new teacher the way we deal with everything. And how’s that?”

“With grace and with gratitude, with a never-give-up attitude.” The trio repeated in unison another line from the bedtime stories their mother had created, stories that they each knew by heart.

He thought of Marie saying those same words, and on the heels of that, he thought of the cowboy-hat Christmas gift she’d given him as a joke. No one expected him to wear it. Which was why Sam had put it on the day they moved out to the farm, a month after Marie had died. He’d worn it every day since. It was his way of making himself embrace change. Now …

In the blink of an eye, his mind went to Polly Bennett. Polly.

What a great name. Fit her, too. Upbeat. Fresh, yet maybe a little old-fashioned. And a good heart. He’d seen it in her from the moment their eyes met until she looked at him with true regret over ruining his hat.

Unpredictable, too, just like that crazy hair of hers. Sam had had to clench his fingers tight a couple of time to keep from brushing it out of her eyes. Then that whole deal with that little lost dog …

That thought snapped Sam back into the moment. He shifted his boots on the old farmhouse floorboards. His mind did not usually skip the tracks like that. He had to get ahold of himself. “Actually, I meant that we’d meet the problem head-on and not look back because …”

“The rest of our life is ahead of us.” Hayley and Juliette repeated one of the many mottoes Sam had taught them. Caroline just looked at him, saying nothing.

“That’s right. Never look back.” He didn’t just talk the talk in this case. Sam had made these past few years about demonstrating those traits to his girls. People had told him he kept the girls too busy and spent too little time making a new life for himself.

He knew what they meant by that. They thought Sam needed to fall in love again. What those people didn’t understand was that he had made up his mind that all his time and energy had to go into his girls, into making sure they did not miss out on anything because they were missing their mom. Maybe one day he’d be able to let up a little and meet … someone. But that certainly wasn’t going to be tomorrow. Tomorrow presented its own problems. “Now say your prayers and go to bed.”

He reached along the wall and flicked off the light, but instead of turning around and leaving the girls to do what was expected of them, he lingered to listen as they thanked God for their day, their home, the food they ate and then began the list of the people they loved.

“Bless Daddy.” Always the leader, Hayley’s request came clear and firm.

“And bless Uncle Max,” Hayley’s carbon copy, Juliette, chimed in to add the youngest of Sam’s siblings.

“And bless Aunt Gina.” Caroline tacked on a request on behalf of Sam’s sister.

“And also, if You don’t mind …” Hayley started again, her tone uncharacteristically tentative. “If Mommy is close by to You in heaven right now …”

Don’t look back … Sam wanted to plead with his child, Let your mother go and don’t dwell on the loss. A lump rose in his throat, which he pushed down again. He turned away. No point in standing there having his heart tugged toward a past he could not change. His life … more importantly, his daughters’ lives, lay ahead of them and he had to keep fixed on that and never stop moving forward. It was the only way they could survive.

“If Mom is there with You,” Juliette took over for her sister, her tone bright and cheerful, “give her a hug from us.”

Sam froze in the dim hallway.

And finally Caroline added softly, “And tell her we will never forget her.”

Sam dragged air into his lungs, ignoring the dull ache that still caught him by surprise even two years after his wife’s death. Maybe pain was the wrong word. Emptiness? Sadness? He didn’t know anymore. He’d made his peace with his loss, accepted it as God’s will and got on with normal life for his girls’ sake.

That’s why he had moved them from the house he and his wife, Marie, had owned in their small town out to the family farm his sister had taken over from their parents. He did it to show the girls how life was about change and growth. What better place to show that than a farm? Were they not getting it? What more could he do?

“And bless the new teacher, whoever gets her.” This time Hayley led off. “I hope she’s fun and smart and nice.”

Again a twinge of emotion, only this time it was not grief but a mix of misgivings.

“And it wouldn’t be bad if she also thinks triplets are cool. And also if she’s pretty—” Juliette turned her head enough to peer over her shoulder through one half-opened eye “—and not married.”

It hit Sam like a sucker punch. This was why he needed to stop listening in on his girls’ prayers, because he did not want the girls using their prayer time to try to make a point to him. It didn’t matter if the teacher was pretty or single—all he cared about was how she would help whichever daughter landed in her classroom to have a successful school year.

“What did you say?” He put his hand to the side of his head to remind them he was standing right there within earshot.

“Amen,” Hayley concluded.

“Amen,” the others agreed.

“Go to bed,” Sam muttered, his hand on the doorknob. Just before he pulled it closed, he leaned in to add, “And tomorrow don’t make me remind you of my own personal set of no-no’s.”

“We know. Dad, we know all about your no-no’s.” Hayley sighed, got to her feet and threw back the covers on her single bed. “No dogs.”

That sounded particularly harsh all of a sudden after helping Polly Bennett wrangle that sweet little lost dog. But they had imposed enough on his sister’s time by moving in. To add pet care while he ran and remodeled Downtown Drug and while the girls were in school, and dance classes and tumbling and T-ball … just wasn’t fair.

“It’s not the ‘no dogs’ rule I’m talking about,” he reminded them. “No …”

Juliette and then Caroline rose, each flipping back the covers on their own beds, too.

Three little sighs and three sets of eyes—probably rolling in irritation as they climbed into their beds.

“And no …” he prompted one more time.

“No matchmaking,” they all said as one. Then one, two, three, they pulled up their covers in a way that made Sam think of cartoon princesses flouncing off in a huff.

“That’s right. Good night, sweethearts.” He gave them a nod and turned to shut the door at last, but just before he pulled it closed, he heard one of those little princesses mutter an addendum to his hard-and-fast no-matchmaking rule.

“For now.”

Ready? Had he thought he was ready? Oh, no. He was not ready for this. Not ready at all.

Chapter Three

Early that next morning, Polly hurried to the school, still feeling badly about the whole hat thing. With that weighing on her mind, she didn’t even feel like chattering out loud to her canine passenger as she drove the four blocks from her house to the place where her street, Mills, met Main. At the intersection, governed only by a four-way stop sign, she took a moment to read the official signs.

“Baconburg Business District.” She glanced toward the road that she knew wound around toward the highway where a chain hotel, a couple of fast-food places and a mega grocery store dotted the landscape.

She took a peek down at a patchwork of buildings that told the story of a town that had known growth spurts and setbacks. Polly smiled. “Baconburg Historic District, which means the cool stuff is thataway.”

But Polly was headed straight down Mills to the school and she couldn’t linger any longer. She sighed. “Too bad there isn’t a hat-blocking place back there.”

Oblivious, the dog bounced right to left, then right again. In a few minutes she pulled into the school parking lot. The only other cars seemed to belong to the staff.

Today was the day the students would be finding out whose classroom they would be assigned to. The principal had okayed her coming in to collect some supplies but had asked that Polly not stick around to avoid “complications.” Polly understood the code word for school politics. She knew that as a fairly new teacher—just three years out of college—and totally new to Van Buren Elementary, some parents would have misgivings about their kids being assigned to her. Others would demand to have their children in Miss Bennett’s class, thinking she would have fresher perspective, all the latest approaches and no preconceptions about which were the good kids and which were the “problems.” Though Polly couldn’t really imagine how much of a problem your average small-town second grader could be.

“No more problem than you right now, mister.” She whirred the window down a few inches, got out and shut the door. She started to turn toward the front door of the single-level blond-brick building, then suddenly felt compelled to explain, “You just have to stay here for two minutes while I run into my classroom here to get some paper. I can make up flyers there so we can find your parents, okay?”

The thick tail thumped against the back of the seat and he whimpered softly as if to tell her he understood.

She tapped the window. Did she really have to make flyers today? She had moved here to learn to take her time, relish the past and not be so anxious to press forward, after all.

A silvery-blue minivan came gliding up past her car and pulled up to the curb in front of her.

Parents were beginning to arrive. She had two choices. Go inside and get what she came for and get out. Or run away.

The passenger door of the minivan swung open and Polly couldn’t help taking a peek.

One little girl with a bright red ponytail, dressed in canvas-colored overalls over a lime-green camp shirt scrambled out onto the sidewalk with so much energy that she almost fell over herself. No, that wasn’t herself she had fallen over. It was …

“Twins!” Polly couldn’t help it. She whispered the word in a rush of excitement to the little dog.

The second child emerged. Her red hair was woven into a gorgeous French braid tied with a pink ribbon. In fact, everything she wore was pink. Pink top, pink skirt, pink sparkly shoelaces in pink sequined tennis shoes.

Polly laughed out loud at the sight. “A set of identical—”

A third child climbed out.

“Triplets,” Polly murmured.

This one wore tennis shoes, too, plain white ones. With faded jeans and an ill-fitting gray shirt. Her hair was caught up in pigtails, the right one a good two inches higher than the left.

That was the one that got to Polly. She felt a smile start that grew beyond simple amusement to recognition of a kindred spirit. All three girls turned and looked at her, their eyes wide.

Polly wondered if she should say hello. It seemed wrong to just get in her car and rush off now. Maybe she should wave and say, See ya soon, I hope. Or should she ask their names? Before she could speak or move or even make up her mind, the driver’s door swung open.

“I told you girls we were leaving too early. I don’t know if the doors are even open yet.” A large, weathered cowboy boot hit the concrete followed by more than six feet of tall, muscular man.

Polly leaned back against the car, a bit for support, a bit to give her room to take in the whole view. “You!”

“Me!” Sam grinned as he shut his door and started toward her. “So, you have a kid in this school, too?”

“Too?” Polly looked at the children, then at the van and realized nobody else was getting out.

He pointed toward the girls each in turn. “Hayley, Juliette and Caroline.”

“Those are … your daughters?” Sam Goodacre had identical triplets. Some women might have wanted to run from a situation like that, but for Polly, just seeing these girls made her feel less homesick for her own twin.

“Yeah.” He held up three fingers. “All mine. And you …”

Three high-pitched squeals tore through the quiet air of the summer morning.

“You … brought … a dog.” They all sang out a variation of almost the same thing.

“I don’t have any kids, Sam. I’m not even married.” Polly moved closer to him to speak softly enough that the girls wouldn’t hear as she whispered her confession, “I’m the new teacher.”

“Of course you are.” He shook his head. “You are the single, new teacher with an adorable, homeless puppy.”

In a flash of red curls and giggles, the girls ran up to the car. The puppy rushed to the side and licked the place where the small hands pressed against the glass.

“You say ‘new teacher’ like it’s a bad thing.” She ducked her head to try to meet his lowered gaze. “It’s because of the hat thing, right? It’s the hat?”

“Forget about the hat. That’s the past.” He waved his hand as if actually pushing it behind them. “No, it’s more complicated than that, starting with the fact that my girls are starting second grade this year. This is Hayley. That one is Juliette.” He pointed to each girl as he spoke. “And that is Caroline.”

“Oh.” Polly whipped around and saw the girls in another light—not as fellow multiples but each a potential student.

The one Sam called Caroline gasped, her eyes grew wide and in that second there was a light in her to rival her other sisters’ natural vivaciousness. Caroline turned her head to tell Polly, “I like your dog.”

“He’s not mine, really.” She slipped away from Sam and went to the children. “I found him hanging around my house. I’m going to put up flyers to see if I can find his real owners.”

“You don’t have to do that. I know his real owners.” Caroline jerked her head around to fix her huge, pleading eyes on her father.

“Me, too.” Juliette ran to the car to peer inside.

“Me, too, too,” Hayley said with sweetness but conviction.

Sam strode forward from the parking lot to the sidewalk, motioning the girls away from the car. “Okay, girls, you know the rules.”

“We weren’t matchmaking, Dad,” they all protested together in perfect harmony, a trick only identical multiples could fully pull off.

“Matchmaking?” Polly laughed, a bit too nervously for her own comfort. What was this all about? Sam had a rule against matchmaking?

Sam scowled. “I meant the rule about dogs.”

“Oh, so we can matchmake?” Hayley rushed forward.

“No.” He spread his hands wide as if calling a runner out at home plate.

Polly felt a blush rush from the constriction in her chest to the tips of her ears. She didn’t know if she should say something or get out of there fast.

“You know we can’t have a dog right now. You have too many activities. Juliette, you want to give up ballet?”

The girl opened her mouth, but before she could actually give an answer, the man moved on, intent on making his point quick and clean. It was a familiar means of “communicating” in her family and it made Polly tense up.

“And, Hayley, you have your hands full with your 4-H projects, right?”

Hayley put her shoulders back and didn’t answer—a means of getting her message across that Sam did not seem to notice.

“And, Caroline … well, when school starts I’m sure you’ll find some things to keep you busy. We’re all busy. Bringing a dog into our lives now wouldn’t be fair to your aunt Gina having to care for it, or to the dog not getting our full attention.”

Caroline glanced back and the dog. “But …”

“We don’t even know.” Sam tried to glower at the girls then at the dog, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “This dog may belong to someone.”

“He does belong to someone, Daddy, to us,” Caroline insisted in such a plaintive voice that Polly could feel the longing in her own bones.

“No.” Sam’s insistence told a story of something more going on than his simplistic explanation. “He is not ours.”

“He should be ours,” Hayley said firmly.

“He could be ours.” Juliette spoke a bit more tentatively.

Caroline fixed her eyes on her father and added, “If Mama was alive, he would be ours.”

Sam pressed his lips into a thin white line.

Maybe she was overly sensitive because she’d been so lonely last night, or because she felt so guilty about Sam’s hat, or maybe because she honestly liked Sam and felt a connection to his daughters. Whatever the reason, Polly couldn’t stay quiet another minute. She hurried to the driver’s side door, her keys jangling in her hand.