Family Ties

“Is God new?” Beth asked.

Cindy smiled despite the pain still squeezing her heart. “No. He’s older than the sky and the grass and the flowers and the trees.”

“Is He older than Daddy?”

Another trickle of amusement sprouted at the child’s guileless words. “Sure is.”

“Real old, huh?”

“Yes, sweetie. Real old.”

When they arrived at church, Cindy felt the welcoming fellowship like a balm to the wound that was Flynn.

Once the girls were happily ensconced in their class, Cindy was awfully glad she’d insisted on bringing them, despite Flynn’s reservations. Again she remembered the look on his face any time she mentioned church. The man knew so little about her, it was pitiable.

It came as no surprise to Cindy that the triplets charmed everyone with their identical heart-shaped faces. It was difficult to withstand twins, impossible to resist triplets. Luckily, they were too young to let all the fawning go their heads.

Katherine popped into the classroom, her eyes lighting up when she saw Cindy and the girls. Crossing to Cindy’s side, she lowered her voice. “So you were able to make off with them?”

Cindy nodded, her brows raised in a matching mock conspiratorial motion. “It wasn’t exactly the great heist, but I’m happy they’re here.”

“Any chance Daddy will be joining them?”

Cindy shook her head.

“Has he just fallen out of the habit?”

“I’m afraid it’s much more than a broken habit.”

“It isn’t an unbreachable problem,” Katherine reminded her, alluding to her husband’s once-lost faith.

“I’m glad it worked out for you and Michael, but I don’t know about Flynn….”

“I wasn’t certain at first about Michael, either.”

Cindy’s smile was bleak. “It’s not as though this is a break in our relationship. We don’t have a relationship to crater.”

“I’m afraid you’re focusing only on the big picture.”

“In what way?”

“I think you need to take it one day at a time. See what unfolds. Learn if Flynn realizes you’re no longer a frivolous twenty-one-year-old. You told me that you’ve scarcely seen Flynn since he married your sister. To be fair, he hasn’t had a chance to learn about the real you. Instead, you’re an inaccurate memory. Don’t you think it’s time he got to know the real Cindy? While you’re at it, subtly find out if he’s in a crisis of faith, which calls for prayer, rather than worry.”

Cindy looked at her friend whom she knew to be both caring and wise. “I haven’t really thought about it that way. Maybe he’s not as sure as he thinks he is.”

“Sometimes we’re so overwhelmed, we can’t see the pieces as they separate and change.”

“You know what, Katie-cakes?”

Katherine’s grin erupted. “What?”

“I think you’re in the right job.”

Eyes rolling, Katherine hugged her lightly. “And you, my friend, are on the right track.”

Maybe not yet, Cindy realized. But tomorrow was another chance, one she could use to apply Katherine’s advice. And she was nothing if not tenacious.

The drive to Houston the following day seemed longer than Flynn remembered. But perhaps that was because Cindy was at his side. He took another glance at her bright red dress, saucy hat and delicate high-heeled sandals. Hardly the outfit he’d expected her to choose for a board meeting. But then, when had Cindy ever done the expected? “You sure that Katherine will be all right taking care of the girls today?”

Cindy didn’t disguise her sigh. “She knows it’s for a good reason. Her calendar is clear, and to quote her, ‘How can I possibly repay you for baby-sitting my children dozens and dozens of times?’ It’s not as though we have a meeting every day, or even every week. It’s only once a month.”

Flynn thought about the shares he’d inherited from Julia—half the stock in their family oil business. Ironically, it made he and Cindy unlikely partners, even though he’d ignored his inheritance until now. There had been no time—and it had been too painful a reminder. But Cindy had been insistent about attending the meeting. “Do we have to do much today?”

She shook her head. “Nope. The management staff has been in place for years, they know exactly what they’re doing and we’re just there to listen and vote if necessary.”

He looked at her curiously. “I would think you’d care more about your family’s business.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Julia’s participation?”

Nonplussed, he hesitated. “Well, no. But she—I mean you—”

“What you mean is that Julia had a purpose in her life that you don’t see in mine, therefore she was excused. It happens that I chose to focus my life in a different direction.”

One of fun and frolic. Just as she had when he’d met her. All motion and energy, but no substance. A flibbertigibbet, his late grandmother would have called her. “It’s not up to me to judge your decisions.”

Her eyes clouded. “No. But that doesn’t stop you, does it?”

He held up one hand. “How about a truce for today? We can enjoy the big city—have lunch at a five-star restaurant without worrying that we’ll be wearing half of it courtesy of the triplets.”

She relented. “I suppose you’re right. I usually do a little shopping while I’m in the city, too.”

Flynn grimaced.

Cindy’s laughter filled the closed space of the car. “Typical male reaction. I thought we could at least pick up something for the girls.”

It was his turn to relent. “I suppose so.”

Reaching downtown Houston, Flynn concentrated on the traffic-filled streets. “Gets worse every day.”

“I don’t know. I find all the people invigorating.”

Despite the distraction of tall buildings and hordes of pedestrians, he turned to stare at her. “Yet you moved to Rosewood?”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

And she didn’t reveal much more as they parked, then attended the meeting. It was only afterward that she brightened again, suggesting they go to the Galleria for their shopping excursion.

FAO Schwarz was a child’s fantasy. And Cindy seemed much like a child herself as she oohed and ahhed over the treasures the store contained. She agonized over the selection of three unique stuffed toys.

“Don’t you want them to match?” Flynn asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve never taken to the notion that twins and triplets should be treated as a unit. It’s fun to dress them identically at times, but they have to know they’re individuals, with different tastes, dreams.” Cindy reached for a stuffed bunny, still unable to decide.

“Aren’t you going to get one for yourself?” he couldn’t resist asking, seeing how absorbed she was in the task.

An unexpected tinge of color warmed her cheeks. “I do have a weakness for them, but I’ll resist this once.”

Funny, he thought she would indulge her least whim. Maybe she was having an off day.

But the thought had barely faded when she started looking at more toys.

“Actually, I don’t want to spoil the girls,” he told her. “It’s great that you want to be generous, but I think we’ve gotten enough things for them.”

She picked up the stuffed bunny she’d discarded a few moments earlier. “These aren’t for the girls.”

Once a playgirl, always a playgirl. Flynn was amazed that a woman of Cindy’s age would want the bunny. But then her indulgences weren’t his concern. Still, he felt a flash of remembered disappointment. One that was reminiscent of their first meeting. He’d seen the promise in her eyes, and had felt the disappointment of learning she was as scattered as Julia was collected.

With their purchases tucked safely in the trunk, Cindy talked him into an exotic restaurant that boasted only the unusual. She had promised to forgo granola and vegetarian fare, but he wasn’t sure this was much better.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, excitement deepening the green of her eyes.

“Let me put it this way. I don’t recall ever finding myself torn between ostrich and buffalo as my only possible entrée choices.”

Her face, bright and mischievous, only sparkled more. “Great, isn’t it? I mean any place can offer steak or fish.”

Flynn had a sudden longing for just that banality. “So they could.” He turned the menu over, glancing at the back. “I don’t suppose they have pasta.”

She rolled her eyes. “We had pasta for dinner last night.”

“True. And what are the chances of finding spinach-and-wheat pasta twice in a row?”

Some of the pleasure in her expression dimmed. “Oh.”

He swallowed a sigh. “Most pasta doesn’t have that much flavor.”

But her former sparkle had disappeared. “That’s diplomatic.”

“It really was good,” he insisted. “I’m not used to a pine nut sauce, but the noodle part was good.”

Unexpectedly she laughed. “We really should have gone to a steak place, shouldn’t we? It’s not too late. We haven’t ordered yet.”

“No. This is fine. How many chances will I have to try exotic meats?”

“If you stay at my house long enough, you might be surprised.”

His actual surprise was the grin he found pushing his lips upward. “So, what do you recommend? Which delicacy won’t we be trying?”

She took pity on him. “Both the buffalo and ostrich taste like beef, just a touch milder. And they’re lower in fat, cholesterol and calories.”

“It must work,” he admitted.

Puzzled, she tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still turning heads, and none of the calories are sticking.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, he glanced up from the menu. But instead of a warm blush or sly demur, she had paled. “Something wrong?”

Cindy shook her head a bit too quickly and forcefully. “No. Just hungry. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

Flynn wasn’t sure why, but he was certain that wasn’t the truth. Still, he didn’t argue the point; instead he listened as Cindy asked the waiter for a bowl of soup. He played along deliberately, sensing whatever was bothering her would only be exacerbated by anything else he could say.

It was unusual for Cindy. She normally steamed ahead with unrestricted fervor, energy and an undue need for control. But she never seemed weak.

And it affected him with unexpected emotion. Cindy had never struck him as needing protection.

As he watched, she pushed at the roll on her plate, but never picked it up. So it wasn’t hunger. He wondered what it could be, what had so thoroughly shaken her. But throughout the meal she didn’t meet his eyes.

And that made him want to know all the more.

A few days later Cindy tucked the new toys into place in the Rainbow classroom. She had chosen each one with a particular child in mind, and she could just picture their faces when they came to the next session.

“Hey, you,” Katherine greeted her, strolling into the room. “I thought I saw the light on in here.”

“Just getting things ready for tomorrow.”

Katherine glanced around the empty room. “And where are your three new appendages?”

Cindy smiled, but her heart wasn’t in the effort. “Flynn has them. I think he believes I’d like to take them over.”

Katherine’s smile was wise, knowing. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. But not away from him. And Flynn has this all-or-nothing mentality.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered the possibility that he thinks you might need a break from their constant care?”

Cindy furrowed her brow as she sank into one of the kid-size chairs. “No.”

“It’s not a competition,” Katherine reminded her gently.

“I don’t look at it that way!”

“Not even a little bit?”

Deflated, Cindy stared at her friend, the only one who knew her secrets and still didn’t judge her. “I suppose I do feel I have a lot to prove.”

“Do you remember when I was agonizing about Michael? Trying to change myself into the woman I thought he wanted?”

Cindy nodded.

“And do you remember what you told me? That if he didn’t love me for myself, he wasn’t the right one for me?”

“All too well,” Cindy admitted. “I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’t really want to change for him, yet I suppose I hoped he’d see me in a new light, realize my value.”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s blind.”

Cindy’s smile struggled to form, but failed. “Don’t you see? He always has been as far as I’ve been concerned. After he took one look at Julia, I was as appealing as an Easter egg you find in the middle of the summer.”

Katherine couldn’t stifle a smile. “Oh, Cindy. How can he not see how special you are? How much joy and adventure you bring to everything?”

Cindy shrugged. “He doesn’t care for adventure—that’s why he chose Julia.”

Wincing for her friend, Katherine met Cindy’s gaze, her voice gentle. “You also told me that I couldn’t be a substitute.”

“Believe it or not, that’s been the foremost thing on my mind these days. Even if I never find another man to love the way I do Flynn, I won’t settle for being Julia’s substitute.”

“I suspected as much.” Katherine hesitated. “Do you suppose now that Flynn is here, some of the illusion of denied love will lose its appeal?”

Cindy couldn’t control the tears that spurted, or the trembling of her lips. “That’s just it. Now that he’s here, it’s just worse. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. There is something about Flynn and only Flynn that’s in my heart and won’t go away. I’ve tried, Kath, I really have.” The tears gave way to gulping sobs. “I’ve tried not to love him, but it’s still there, every moment of every day.”

Katherine reached out, enveloping her in a hug, one that vibrated with great shaking wails of pain. And one that Cindy was helpless to stop.

That same evening Flynn tried to keep the lid on the rice cooker, while making sure the girls didn’t tug on any of the pot handles on the stove. But that was harder than he’d expected. Fearing they’d pull a pot off and burn themselves, he put them in the next room with a children’s video.

He’d chopped and diced for what seemed like hours. He’d found a fairly palatable-sounding recipe in one of Cindy’s cookbooks. It was a tofu stir-fry seasoned with oyster sauce. The instructions promised that the tofu would then taste like oysters. He had his doubts, but the dinner he was preparing wasn’t for him. It was for Cindy.

Belatedly it had occurred to him that perhaps she was worn-out. She still kept up her hectic social schedule with her Rainbow thing as well as other functions, and she’d also assumed the majority of the triplets’ care. Cooking dinner wouldn’t make a big dent in that pressure, but maybe it would create a small vent. The girls had loved going shopping for the ingredients. But some of their suggestions had the stir-fry looking a little questionable.

“What’s going on?” Cindy asked from the doorway.

Flynn spun around, seeing her gaze take in the messy kitchen. “You’re early. I’d planned to have everything cleaned up before you got here.”

“Oh,” she answered in a small voice.

“But I did get the table set in the dining room.”

“The dining room?” she echoed.

“Yeah. The stir-fry should be done soon.”

“You’re making stir-fry?”

He held up the cookbook. “I found the recipe in here. Between the grocery and health food stores we found everything we needed.”

“That’s what you were doing today?”

He smiled. “As you pointed out, there’s not a lot of action in Rosewood. And the girls enjoyed it.”

“Well…”

“I’d planned to have it all arranged in the dining room, but…surprise!”

“Surprise?” she echoed, looking stunned.

“Yeah. To say thanks for all you do for me, for the girls.” He walked toward the small sitting room just off the kitchen. “Girls, Cindy’s home.” As they scampered toward him, he stopped Alice, whispering to her, “Get your surprise.”

In a few moments Alice returned and came toward Cindy with a bouquet of daisies.

Cindy’s eyes misted as she accepted the flowers, then gave Alice a fierce hug.

“They seemed to suit you,” Flynn explained. “The daisies, I mean.”

Cindy’s throat worked. But Beth and Mandy were rushing at her, as well. Scooping them up in a hug, she hid her face behind their compact bodies. And Flynn couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that fiery head of hers.

Finally her face emerged as she settled the girls back on to the floor. “This is really nice. The dinner—” she held up the bouquet “—the flowers. Thanks.”

“I don’t say it often enough, but you’ve changed our lives and we appreciate it.”

Remarkably he thought her eyes brightened with the suspicion of tears. But that couldn’t be. Not freewheeling Cindy. She was all laughter, not tears.

She lowered her face, presumably to sniff the daisies. Her voice was soft, nearly muffled. “And you have changed mine.”

The girls pulled at her hands, tugging her toward the dining room to show off the table setting. But Flynn didn’t follow, instead remembering the remarkable look on her face, the remembered feelings it evoked. Feelings he thought he’d put to rest the day he proposed to Julia.

Chapter Six

A few days later, Flynn entered his daughters’ room. Once again he admired all of Cindy’s handiwork, but still he felt she had gone overboard. She claimed she wasn’t spoiling the girls, but he was worried about all her overly generous gestures. From experience he knew it wasn’t wise to grow up believing life was always this kind.

He reached down to pick up a discarded pair of pajamas the girls had left behind. As he stood, he noticed a new addition to the room. A picture of Jesus.

All the betrayal of his past choked him. It was one thing to spoil the girls, it was another to tamper with their beliefs.

Hearing Cindy’s steps in the hall outside the room, he called out for her. “Would you come in here?”

The echo of footfalls on the wooden floor paused, then turned into the room. “Yes?”

“What’s this?”

She glanced around the room. “What?”

“Don’t play games. This picture.”

Cindy looked back at him wryly. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“What’s it doing in here?”

She pointed to another picture on the wall—one filled with cartoon characters. “I’m decorating their room.”

“The picture of Jesus isn’t a decoration. It’s a statement.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration. The girls aren’t even three years old yet.”

“The younger the mind, the easier it is to brainwash.”

“Brainwash?”

“Influence, then.”

“Flynn, they’re babies!”

“Then why the picture of Jesus?”

She hedged for only a moment. “I like the idea of Him looking over them, protecting them.”

“That’s a fairy tale,” he told her flatly, deep anger and remembered pain darkening his thoughts.

Shocked, she stared at him. “You can’t mean that!”

“Don’t delude yourself, Cindy. Especially for a craze you’ll forget by next month.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m chasing fads like a teenager?”

Exasperated, unwilling to face the pain in her expression, he threw up his hands. “All I asked is a simple question.”

“Then I’ll give you a simple answer. Your lack of faith is going to hurt your daughters. If you’re having a crisis of faith—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, with only the slightest grip on his anger.

She studied him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Nodding, she turned away.

“Cindy?”

She glanced at the picture on the wall. “I’ll take it down later. But I can’t guarantee that you won’t see it somewhere else in the house.”

Unable to watch her leave, he turned toward the window. Then he heard the sound of tiny steps, then a tug on his jeans.

Flynn glanced down. “Hey there, Alice.”

“Up?” she asked.

He obliged, picking her up until they were at eye level.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“Why you hate Jesus?”

He hadn’t known a fist to the gut could be delivered by a guileless toddler. “What makes you say that?”

Alice screwed up her precious face. “Me heard fight with Cinny. I wanna have Jesus here.”

“But it’s only a picture.”

“How come, then?”

Why not indeed? It was only a picture, it had no power over them. Over him.

Yet the torturous question accompanied him as he went through the motions of the day. It was late afternoon when he finally sought Cindy out again.

She was in the kitchen, preparing a huge casserole.

“That’s quite a lot of food,” he commented, not certain how to begin this discussion.

“For tonight,” Cindy replied. Then she glanced up, catching his puzzled glance. “Remember the people coming over tonight? I told you about them.”

“Oh, right. I’ll clear out pretty soon.”

Exasperation flooded her expression. “Flynn. I invited them over to meet you.”

He’d completely forgotten, caught up in hours of rare contemplation, a prisoner of a past he’d never outrun. “Of course.”

A buzzer went off and she walked to the oven, pulling out a fragrant tray of rolls. Searching for a place to put them on the crowded tile counter, she glanced up at him. “Did you need something?”

He moved aside the casserole dish at the end of the counter, making a place for the rolls. “I’ve been thinking…”

Uncharacteristically, she didn’t jump in with words to ease his way.

Which made him feel even stiffer, more uncomfortable. “It’s about this morning…the picture. You can leave it in their room.”

She studied him silently, again surprising him. Flynn wondered where all her fiery words had gone. Especially when she only nodded.

He considered an apology, but the place inside him that held those words had been dammed up long ago. “Do you need any help?”

She seemed to consider this, too. Then she gestured toward the fridge. “You could put the salad together.”

“Sprouts included?”

But her usual ready laughter didn’t surface. “Whatever you’d like to put in it. The vegetable drawer is pretty full.”

They worked in silence for a while. Flynn wasn’t certain how to break the strain, how to bring the sparkle and laughter back to Cindy’s face.

She glanced up at the clock. “Yipes, I still have to shower and change my clothes before everyone gets here.”

“I can finish in here,” he offered, surprising himself as much as Cindy.

“Well, I did want to tidy up—”

“I can take care of it,” he insisted.

She took a final glance at the food, then nodded. “The table’s set and—”

“Go.”

“And I—”

“Go.”

And she did.

It didn’t take long to clean up the kitchen, then check on the girls who were making Play-Doh teddy bears on the faded, terrazzo terrace. Because of the tall, wide windows he’d been able to watch them as Cindy had been doing before he arrived.

He remembered the first time he’d tried to feed the girls and clean up while watching them. It had never occurred to him to put them in the safety of the fenced backyard. An old wooden toy box beneath the awning held a large and varied collection of toys to keep them occupied.

His daughters looked content, having assimilated into Cindy’s life and home as though they’d always been here. He thought of the gathering Cindy had planned for the evening, suspecting she hoped to accomplish the same for him. Knowing that hadn’t been possible since he was a child, equally certain it would never be possible again.

There was something about a group of people who’d known each other long and well. Their chatter filled the air, snatches of conversation that melded from person to person. It seemed everyone was talking at once, but in a good way. No one was excluded, no one hanging outside the fringes of the group.

And due to Cindy, Flynn was included, as well. She’d introduced him to the collection of people who ranged greatly in age and background. Ruth Stanton, a perky seventy-two-year-old woman, welcomed Flynn as warmly as did people of his own age, and some much younger.