Family Ties

By Krista Kedrick

She’s all country...
He’s all city...

Grace Tucker thought she had her life put back together - with the help of her over-protective brothers. She had a quiet, predictable life operating the family hardware store in her hometown and spending her free time with her friends, the Caldwell family. That was... until a tragic accident took her two best friends and left their daughters orphaned. If that wasn’t devastating enough - Dirk Caldwell, the egocentric brother no one’s met, blows into town.

Dirk Caldwell realized he wasn’t in California anymore when he stepped from the redneck, rattletrap airplane and was smacked in the face with a cold breeze laced with manure. It was exactly what he’d expected from the backwater town his brother called home. But going head to head with Grace Tucker was not.

When two worlds collide can they form a bond strong enough to tie a family together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Krista Kedrick
• Release date: May 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476242828

Krista Kedrick

Krista is an author of western romantic fiction. She enjoys using her homestate of Nebraska for the settings of her novels, Under a Prairie Moon and Family Ties. She lives in Nebraska with her husband, two daughters and basset hound

Book preview

Chapter 1

Push that tape down so it don’t stick to your butt.

Twelve hours ago Dirk Caldwell would’ve never imagined another man making reference to his butt. Ever. It just wasn’t done. Then again, twelve hours ago he wouldn’t have pictured himself struggling to get inside a tiny, run-down, four-seater plane carrying his own luggage.

He would never have been anywhere near a man who’s idea of style was Wrangler jeans paired with scuffed cowboy boots, Nebraska Huskers t-shirt and a dusty camouflage baseball cap with the phrase "That’s Mr. Redneck to You" emblazoned on it. He hadn’t realized people like that existed let alone were allowed to hold a pilot’s license. Yet here he was bumping elbows, knees and any manner of body parts with him while juggling his way around the cockpit.

Just toss yer’ bag back over there.

Dirk looked in the direction the work-worn hand pointed and balked. He was supposed to put his $4,000 Bottega Veneta on top of a pile of dirty rags, maintenance manuals and something that looked like it came straight out of the engine of this nineteen-seventy something Cessna? Yeah right.

He surveyed the tiny plane, finally resigning to set his bag on the floor beneath the mess. The distinct sound of tape being pulled from its roll drew his attention back to the pilot in time to see him tear a strip free with his teeth. At least they were clean and in the vicinity of white.

The weathered hand held out the wide silver tape motioning towards the co-pilots seat populated by other such strips. With a sneer, Dirk took it and laid it across the most obvious spot.

Good as new. The pilot smiled and tucked the roll back under his seat.

Oh Christ! They were going to end up dead in a fiery inferno in the middle of some cornfield. Well, then he wouldn’t be any worse off than his brother. His chest constricted the instant he thought that. Danny. Tears stung his eyes, he swallowed hard and they disappeared.

Dirk loosened his tie. Not his favorite. He normally went for a flashier style, but it was a Christmas present from his brother and it just felt right to wear it for the occasion. The tears threatened again, he blinked rapidly, but they welled further. Thank God for his Ray-Bans. He quickly swiped a finger beneath them while pretending to check his pockets with the other hand.

If you’ll get buckled up, the tower said we’re next for take-off.

Dirk was grateful for the distraction. He wondered if the seat belt was also secured with Duct Tape. He wouldn’t be surprised. It was amazing this rattle-trap passed inspections, but then he wasn’t sure if privately chartered planes to nowhere had to go through inspections. Probably not.

The seatbelt seemed secure enough. At least he would be strapped in when they crashed. The pilot adjusted his headset and communicated with the tower. Dirk was surprised he actually used professional pilot jargon. Instead of Gee, y’all we’re ready to git the heck outta here now.

His estimation of a safe arrival notched up a fraction. Even though, his full attention was on the runway and horizon until they were safely up and cruising.

Dirk pulled his phone from his pocket with the intention of getting some work done, except it wasn’t working. He poked at the screen anyway. They hadn’t even left the state of Colorado and already he felt the constricting weakness of being disconnected from civilization. It was like being naked in the wilderness. He unbuttoned his top shirt button.

Sorry you won’t be able to use that for a while, probably not til you get home.

Dirk twisted his head to the pilot. I’m sorry…. He honestly couldn’t remember the guy’s name.

Clive. The pilot nodded. Name’s Clive. He returned attention to the sky.

Of course it is. Clive. I can’t go two hours without contacting my clients, let alone two days.

Dirk didn’t like the assessing once-over he got from Clive. What did he know anyway? He probably communicated by smoke signal. Dirk adjusted his cuff links glancing at his watch.

I’ll getcha there on time.

Dirk looked sideways at Clive, whose concentration was still on the horizon and his gauges. If it weren’t for the sympathetic half smile on his face, Dirk wouldn’t have known the man said anything. He was really tired of those smiles; he had seen them on his girlfriend’s face for twelve straight hours. At least it looked genuine on Clive’s.

Did you know Danny?

Of course. Clive smiled warmly, as if remembering better times. He was a good man.

Dirk waited for him to say more, wanted him to say more, but Clive fell silent again. He seemed to be a man of few words, not something Dirk was used to. In his line of work people never shut up. They jabbered just to hear their own voice, thinking if they stopped they might disappear from the spotlight.

It was that very thing that kept him busy twenty-four hours a day covering media, defusing situations and bailing clients out of trouble or jail. So busy, in fact, he hadn’t seen his brother in more than a year. He hadn’t even met his youngest niece and she was nearly five. Not that Danny hadn’t asked him to visit; there just was never a right time. Public relations never slept.

When Dirk’s phone had rung two nights ago he thought that’s what Danny was calling about. Another trip. A vacation to Nebraska. Nebraska. Not exactly the ultimate dream destination. Corn fields and feed lots. Seemed like a place of misery to Dirk.

He had ignored the first call. He would listen to Danny’s lighthearted message and subtle plea later. He was making progress with a smoking hot redhead at the club and didn’t need any distractions. Of course in L.A. you never could tell what was fake and what was real, so smoking hot was all relative, but that was part of the fun.

Dirk loved his life. He was successful; at least it appeared that way. His bank account wasn’t too awful to look at. He worked and played with the rich and famous. They liked having him around and it was nice to be needed by them. He had been gifted with the amazing talent to twist anything into an advantage. He was the ultimate bull-shit slinger and the people loved him for it.

His girlfriend, not that he couldn’t look around a little, was of course an aspiring actress. Dirk was pretty sure she was with him for his connections, but he didn’t mind overly much. She looked great in a cocktail dress and stilettos and she had a fantastic sexual menu.

But when the second call from his brother’s house came an hour later he got a clench in his gut he couldn’t ignore. He took the call.

You know you’re really screwing with my mojo, big brother. He had laughed and plugged his ear waiting to hear his brother’s comeback.

Excuse me? A female voice Dirk didn’t recognize asked.

Jayne? Is that you? Maybe it was his sister-in-law. He couldn’t tell with all the noise. He pushed his finger harder against his ear and listened closer.

No. Um. This is Grace. Grace Tucker. You don’t know me…

Hang on a second. Dirk walked toward the doors leading to the patio where people were swimming, but at least there wasn’t a blaring speaker in his face. Okay. Sorry about that. Who did you say this was?

Grace Tucker. The woman’s voice sounded heavy, clogged. He actually heard her swallow into the receiver. Mr. Caldwell.

A lump settled in his stomach. Something was wrong.

I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. She paused to sniffle and Dirk clenched his jaw waiting. But, um, Danny and Jayne. She whimpered and drew a deep breath. They passed away. Another swallow. They aren’t with us anymore.

Dead?

The scene around him moved in slow motion; the people splashing, the women laughing, the waiters distributing drinks. Life was going on but his was crashing down, collapsing on top of him, sucking him into a vortex of despair. Like standing at the end of a long hallway, he heard the woman describe the car crash, the time, the place, bits of the police report through sniffling, swallowing and outright crying.

The kids? He whispered.

They’re fine. Well, they’re safe. They weren’t in the car. She began to cry intensely. And then Dirk could feel her gain her composure through the phone. When she spoke again it was steadier.

They’re going to need you here. As soon as you can.

Yeah. His voice cracked. Of course. I’ll be on the first available flight.

That had actually been harder than he expected. The flight from Los Angeles to Denver was no trick; it was chartering a plane to Wolf Creek, Nebraska that had proved nearly impossible. Which is how he ended up in this jalopy with Clive the redneck pilot.

Through dozens of phone calls his assistant had finally tracked down someone who owned a plane in Wolf Creek and was willing to fly to Denver to pick him up. He had arrived in Denver at five o’clock in the morning and had to wait five hours for Clive to arrive. So far he wasn’t impressed with the accommodations of the people of Wolf Creek.

But what could he expect from a bunch of hicks from Nowheresville? What his brother saw in living in a place like that was beyond his comprehension. But whatever it was had kept him there for nine years. Or, as Dirk suspected, he moved there because it was his wife’s hometown and it was easier to comply.

I’m gonna have to do a fly-by. There’s some cattle on the runway.

Dirk was pulled from his thoughts with yet another sentence he never thought he would hear uttered. And what was worse, Clive didn’t seem bothered by the fact there were livestock where he landed his plane. Dirk looked out the window for the first time since takeoff in both disgust and amazement, that soon turned to worry.

Indeed, on the runway were about a dozen cows, but that wasn’t the part that scared him. Which was weird in the extreme. No. The part that scared him was the so-called runway was a stretch of grass with some orange flags as markers.

That’s the runway?

Now don’t get yer’ britches in a twist. I just mowed it this morning. It’s perfectly safe. I land on it all the time.

What did he just say? He obviously had no idea who Dirk was. Dirk opened his mouth to put Clive in his place just as the man banked hard to the right and pulled the plane higher forcing Dirk against the side.

There. Wanda should be sounding the horn to get the cattle moving if the plane hasn’t already.

He watched Clive maneuver the wheel, bobbing his head left and right.

Wanda?

Yeah. My wife. I had to do the fly-by so she knew I was here.

She didn’t know you were on approach? Don’t you have a radio or something?

What for?

Dirk was confused. To communicate with her. Isn’t that what radios were for?

I just did.

Dirk shook his head, he felt the air pass through his open mouth, but he couldn’t for the life of him respond.

His mind was still in park when they landed, which was probably a good thing since he forgot to be nervous. Clive taxied to the big metal shed next to the runway. Dirk heard shuffling then heavy objects clank and fall to the floor. He turned to see Clive pull on a coat then open the door and lower the stairs.

Welcome to Wolf Creek, Mr. Caldwell.

Clive motioned for Dirk to exit. He pulled his suitcase out of the mess, noticing a dirt streak down the front, and ducked outside. The air was crisp and laced with the pungent smell of manure.

Fabulous, he mumbled as he tromped down the stairs.

Clive was right behind him. If you’ll just go inside the hanger my wife has something for you.

Dirk took it he was referring to the shed so that was the direction he walked. He hoped the something was a rental car and a cup of coffee, not necessarily in that order.

When he stepped through the doorway, he stopped in his tracks. The place was clean and tidy. Every tool had a place on the pegboard wall, the floor was swept free of debris and the wall was neatly lined with large metal drums and tall tool boxes. A stark contrast from the pig sty he had imagined.

He pushed his sunglasses up, resting them on his head, as a slender woman with long brown hair in a ponytail at the base of her neck approached. She was probably in her mid-forties, not unattractive, and tan. He was beginning to wonder if he had entered an alternate universe. This woman was married to Clive the pilot?

Hi there, Mr. Caldwell. She extended her hand with a warm smile. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.

Her cultured speech, direct eye contact and sincerity threw Dirk for a loop. He froze for a second. She twitched her head and pulled her vacant hand back tucking it into her pocket. It took Dirk another second to realize he hadn’t shaken her hand, probably offending her; all deal breakers in his business and a faux pas he never made.

Yes. Me too, ma’am.

Wanda, please, she encouraged.

Wanda. I don’t suppose you have any coffee here?

No, sorry. I have some at the house, it’ll just take me a minute -

It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. He waved off the inconvenience. A rental car perhaps?

No. I -

A tractor then? Something that will get me to my brother’s house.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed at him in confusion. She removed her hands from her pockets and crossed them over her chest. Well, you’re welcome to borrow our tractor, but I thought you might like to drive something you’re more familiar with, like that pickup over there.

Dirk looked in the direction she had indicated. A white four door truck was parked just outside the shed doors. It was massive. Not as massive as a tractor, but close.

Great. That’ll be fine. He reached into his jacket pocket. How much do I owe you?

One-fifty for the flight and nothing for the truck.

Dirk looked to Clive who had come to stand next to his wife. No, really. How much?

I just told you how much.

Clive’s slight smile and easy-going nature was leaning towards the extreme. What was the matter with these people? Not enough chlorine in the gene pool?

I need to pay you for the truck. Dirk started opening his wallet.

Why? It’s your brother’s.

Well these people just thought of everything didn’t they?

Sunny and Clive brought it over for you this morning. Wanda’s green eyes were bright with sympathy. I have the keys here. She pulled them from her pocket and held them out.

He grabbed them and held them in his tight fist. Thanks. His chest constricted with guilt and grief.

It was the least we could do. We liked your brother very much and Jaynie used to baby-sit our kids. She was just like family. Wanda looked away with a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

Dirk felt that unwelcome tickle at the back of his throat and sting in his eyes. He took out two hundred dollars from his wallet and handed it to Clive, avoiding eye contact.

Thanks. I really appreciate it, Dirk spoke to the wall.

You’re welcome, the couple said in unison.

Dirk was already walking to the truck rolling his suitcase behind him. He stood at the side of the truck and pushed the button to unlock the doors. Nothing happened, no click. He pushed it again. Nothing. What the hell? Was it broken?

He grabbed a hold of the handle. It opened. It hadn’t been locked at all. Weird.

He put his bag in the back seat then stepped up and into his brother’s very large pickup. Dirk had never driven anything this size. His car at home was a Porsche 911 Carrera. He settled in and took a quick overview of things before starting the engine.

When it turned over, the engine roared and rattled and let out a trail of black smoke. His brother drove a toxic steam-roller. Thank God it was an automatic.

A clear vision of Danny sitting in this seat grinning like a schoolboy flashed in his mind. Danny would’ve loved this thing. Dirk ran his hand around the steering wheel picturing his brother’s happy face. He was always so damn happy.

Dirk pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He wanted more than anything to talk to Danny, to hear him laugh, to listen to his criticisms. He could hear him now. You work too hard, D. Why don’t you come for a visit? You might even like it.

And he would answer Danny with Yeah. Maybe sometime, when things slow down. What he had been thinking was how could I like cows and grass and nature? There’s nothing to see there, nothing to do. I’d go crazy in five seconds.

Well, Danny finally got his wish. Dirk was here.

Chapter 2

You can put it over on the counter with the other pies. Grace said motioning Sandy Reynolds to the kitchen.

She had been shuffling traffic all morning, hugging company and doling out tissues to the sympathizers. When she wasn’t doing that she was comforting the children, trying to answer their questions and keeping a brave face pasted on.

Inside, her heart was broken, smashed into a million pieces. But somehow the blood was still sloshing through, keeping her alive. She had just lost her best friends. The reality of that wasn’t truly sinking in. The people who meant the most to her, aside from her two brothers, were gone. What was she going to do? What was going to happen to Maci and Sasha? They were so little, so innocent. At least Grace had been older when - Ding Dong.

She heaved a big sigh full of exhaustion and sorrow. Strapping on her brave face, she opened the door.

Oh, Sunny. Grace was instantly engulfed in an embrace and became the comforter once again. I just can’t believe it.

I know, Doris. We’re all still in shock. It was the same phrase she had been repeating to everyone who came, and truthfully she wasn’t sure she could hold up much longer. Grace was so exhausted mentally and physically that she was now operating in a state of numb mechanics.

Sunny. Sandy Travers came down the hall with a sopping wet towel in her hand. Hi, Doris. She redirected her attention to Grace. It looks like the kitchen sink is leaking. Can you?

Of course, Sandy. Grace smiled at Sandy’s apologetic face. Doris, I can take that salad from you. I’m heading in that direction.

Thank you, honey.

Grace gave Doris’ arm a gentle pat and took the salad back to the kitchen leaving the two women to console each other.

Shit. She huffed to herself, plopped the bowl on the counter and hurried under the sink to shut off the water now covering the floor. Grace grabbed dish towels from the drawer and tossed them down to mop up the mess. She made fast work of removing all the stuff from the cupboard out of harm’s way, then knelt down and scooted inside.

She was going to have to replace the supply lines, they were shot. And it looked like the P-trap was in need of a new gasket. For now, she could probably tighten the washer and use a little plumbers tape to seal the lines until she could get to the shop for parts.

Ding dong.

Damn door bell, maybe she should short circuit it. Can somebody get that?

***************

Dirk pushed the doorbell again; his patience was at an end. The drive to his brother’s place had been a test in tolerance. He didn’t know where he was going and the sketchy directions Clive gave him had him lost twice. Clive had looked disappointed in him; like Dirk should have the way memorized after all his many visits. The visits both men knew never happened.

As if Dirk didn’t feel terrible enough. He hadn’t talked to his brother in two weeks. And now he never would again. Well, screw Clive. Screw them all. He loved his brother. What’d they know about it?

Dirk had a sneaking feeling they knew a great deal and that got his dander up even more. He was just about to start pounding on the damn door with his fist when it swung open. On the other side were two women. One older and plump with a tissue pressed under her nose, and the other mid-forties, slender with an angular face made more pronounced by her chin-length hair.

Yes? the angle faced woman asked.

Dirk clenched his jaw before answering. I’m Dirk Caldwell. Danny’s -

Oh, yes! The woman grabbed him by his shoulder ushering him in the house. We weren’t for sure when you would be coming in. Please, come in. Sit down.

Dirk didn’t know what to make of this welcome. He didn’t like it. They were too perky. Too welcoming. The woman kept jabbering about his flight and accommodations. If only she knew.

Do you need anything to drink, Mr. Caldwell? Or eat? There’s plenty. The plump woman was now joining in.

No. Thank you. I’d rather -

See the girls. They’re sleeping right now, but -

No. He interrupted the overly helpful woman. I mean yes, but right now I’d like to -

Rest? Of course you would.

No. The plump one was pressing his last nerve. Who was she? Aunt B? I’d like to talk to whoever’s in charge right now. God, he hoped it wasn’t either of them.

Oh. Of course. They both nodded and smiled gently.

Dirk witnessed the light dawning in their eyes.

That would be Sunny.

Aunt B smiled and looked at Dirk like he should know who that was and where the man was located. He raised his brows in disbelief. He had met some dumb girls in L.A., but this was worse.

In the kitchen. Angle faced lady helped him out, pointing through the dining room to a swinging door.

Thank you, ladies. He tried to sound his most polite. It must have come off as sincere. They both smiled warmly. Excuse me, will you? He walked past them and felt the brain cells he had lost in the last five minutes return.

He pushed the door open and found an empty kitchen. Great. He mumbled to himself. Dreading a return to the living room, he stepped to the island in the center. It was overflowing with food in an array of dishes. He lifted the wrapping of one and found trail mix. He whipped the cover off.

As he was about to take a hand full, he saw movement and heard a clang. He stepped closer. A derriere was sticking out from under the kitchen sink. A jean clad, very nicely shaped derriere. Dirk stared at it for a moment as it shifted, enjoying the movement.

Suddenly he backed away and looked down. What the hell was wrong with him checking out a man’s ass? He had been in the country all of an hour and he was already living out scenes from Deliverance. Pretty soon the banjos would strum to life.

He took a deep breath to get a grip on himself, then shifted closer so he could see the man still under the sink.

You must be Sonny?

***************

Grace jerked up at the sound of a man’s voice behind her, hitting her head on the P-trap. Ouch. Son of a bitch!

She pulled out of the cupboard, rubbing the growing knot. Yeah. She lumbered to her feet and focused her eyes on the man across the island. Wow. She couldn’t help but look him up and down. Nobody around here dressed like that. Or looked like that. Wow she thought again. His dark gray suit made his blue eyes sparkle like Olsen’s Pond at dusk.

You’re Sonny? I thought - He looked uncertainly to the kitchen door, obviously expecting someone to enter announcing the joke. Grace was familiar with the look. It was then followed by a baffled, full-body survey.She was used to that too, except this time she blushed. That was new, and annoying.

I was told that Sonny was in charge. You’re Sonny?

Grace thought she heard disgust in his voice.

Yes. I’m Sunny. Grace actually. She trailed a hand over her hair trying to smooth the puckers. She didn’t like the accessing way he was looking at her. It was making her squirm.

Dirk Caldwell. He stuck his hand out in greeting.

Grace reached out to take his hand, realized she was holding the wrench, blushed again, tossed it into her other hand, then took his in an embarrassed handshake.

Nice to meet you. I’m Sunny, uh, Grace.

I know.

Grace wanted to duck back under the sink. The butterflies in her stomach were jumbling her thoughts. His hand had been so smooth, so warm. It encased hers completely. She could still feel his touch like an imprint on her skin.

So aren’t there any men around here?

Dirk looked from her hand with the wrench to the sink. For a moment, Grace was struck dumb by his topic switch. She’d heard many stories about Dirk over the years, but not one of them prepared her for what she was experiencing. She had expected an urbane version of Danny, this was… She searched her brain for a word to describe Dirk, two came to mind and neither were very flattering.

Well, most of them are working right now. She thought she’d give him the benefit of the doubt, or at the very least show him what manners sounded like.

Ah, a full day of shoveling manure and riding the range? He glanced around the kitchen, inspecting it. And passing judgment. Apparently his brother’s life wasn’t up to his fancy standards. Which she pretty much knew already.

That is how most of us around here make our living. She tried to inject just the right amount of reproach to her tone. Her patience was wearing thin, if this was an indicator of his behavior she would’ve rather had him stay home. What was Danny talking about all those times he described his brother in admiring accounts? The mental picture she had drawn was nothing like this.

He nodded. So what’s the agenda?

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Excuse me?

The agenda, he repeated. The plan.

Okay, she now understood what he thought of her intelligence. I know what an agenda is, she answered with biting politeness. Grace switched the wrench to her right hand, she was done with this conversation. I’m going to fix this sink and you can get settled in if you would like. She missed Danny and Jayne so much she could burst into tears. She didn’t want to have to deal with an inconsiderate jerk, not with everything else. Why was she being tested so strongly? What had she ever done to deserve all that she’d had to endure?

I’m fine. I guess I can take a look at it for you, since there isn’t anyone else here to do it. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, then loosened his tie. If she liked him, he would be completely attractive like that.

I can handle it. Thanks. She turned to the sink.

Just let me help. He came up beside her and placed his hand on the wrench prickling her skin where it touched. She jerked her hand away glaring into his dazzling blue eyes.

I got it. Her sharp intake of breath was laced with his scent, she had to breathe again to settle her senses. It didn’t work. It’s a leaky sink. I’m capable of fixing it.

He grabbed for the wrench, she pulled it out of his reach.

What’s your problem? He grabbed for it again, missing again. I’m just trying to help.

"My problem? She slapped at his approaching hand. You are my problem. Anyone around here knows I can fix a sink with one arm tied behind my back. That stopped his pursuit of the tool. She heaved a sigh, blushing under his curious stare. I’m Sunny The Handywoman, if you’d ever come to visit your family you’d have known that."

All expression fell from his handsome face as he took a step back. The little man in her head punched her.

I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. She had spoken her thoughts aloud and hurt his feelings, now she felt like dirt. Just because he had never come when his brother all but begged him to, didn’t mean he deserved her scorn, especially now.

It’s okay. The truth hurts. He didn’t look at her when he spoke, pinching her already regretful heart.

No, it’s not. She placed her hands on his sleeves so he would turn to her. When their eyes met all the air from her lungs disappeared.

Dirk smiled at her and it just about buckled her knees. I guess I’ll leave you to tend to the sink then. He quirked a dark brow making him look a little like Danny. Should I get some rope?

Grace chortled, grateful for the truce. Trying to test my claim?

You have me intrigued… Sunny The Handywoman.

His compelling tone and the way his mouth shaped words was intoxicating. Like warm wine sliding past the retro-olfaction spreading heat and warmth. Grace could see that he was dynamite at his job. His charm and poise would be very valuable in PR.

Don’t believe me? I assure you I can fix it, I can fix anything. He looked skeptical standing there in his classy suit complete with cuff links. He didn’t look like a man who ever got his hands dirty.

Really?

Yes, really. She crossed her arms hitting her elbow with the heavy wrench. What can you do?

I can negotiate a multi-million-dollar deal in one sentence.

He was so calm, so matter-of-fact, Grace believed him.

Oh. Grace swallowed to take the breathlessness away.

They both looked at the kitchen door as it swung open.

Sunny. Doris was winded, her face crumpled in worry. Sasha’s awake and she’s calling for Jayne.

Grace’s stomach dropped to her knees. That poor child. How was she ever going to recover?

***************

Dirk followed Sunny as she rushed through the dining room and down the hall. He could hear the wailing before they reached the doorway. She didn’t pause as she rounded the corner and entered the girl’s bedroom. The child was crying into the stuffed lamb clutched to her chest. Her knees were drawn up and she was rocking back and forth.

Sunny carefully sat on the bed and Sasha turned her head.

Mama! I want Mama! Where’s my Mama?

For such a little girl she sure had a set of lungs on her. Sunny pulled her close gently rubbing her back and arms.

I know, sweetheart. I know you want your Mama. Her voice was so soft, so soothing.

He watched as the two hugged and cried together, Sunny murmuring sweet things about heaven and angels and beauty and peace. Dirk slipped a finger inside his collar trying to loosen it. He was an intruder here, he didn’t agree with anything the woman was saying to his niece, but it seemed to calm her.

They were both rocking back and forth on the bed clutching each other. Dirk decided to leave the room; his shoulders were beginning to twitch. He didn’t know why he came in here anyway. He couldn’t help the child with her grief. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

He started for the doorway.

Sasha, honey, guess who’s come to see you? Sunny’s tear-heavy voice announced from behind him and he closed his eyes.

Who? Sasha sniffled and he knew he was going to have to turn around.

Your Uncle Dirk.

Dirk had stepped to the bed preparing to meet his five-year old