Kristie wasn’t the one pushing it in for her. Quinn’s hand brushed her shoulder lightly as he settled the chair, and his touch both startled and warmed her. Then he rounded the table to his own seat. Directly opposite her, she saw with a sinking heart.
He sat down, unfolded his napkin, and his gaze met hers over the bowl of zinnias in the middle of the table. How on earth could she concentrate on anything else with him staring at her?
“The roast smells wonderful,” she said, wondering how she’d manage to taste it.
“My daddy’s favorite,” Kristie announced. “We always have his favorite when he comes.” Using two hands, she carefully passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to Ellie. “Do you like roast and mashed potatoes, Ms. Ellie?” She looked unaccountably anxious.
“Of course.” She took a spoonful, feeling her stomach tighten. This couldn’t possibly be a peaceful meal, not with her father beaming at Gwen and Quinn looking like a dam about to burst.
The conversation, accompanied by the clinking of silverware on china, didn’t reassure her. Quinn probed into her father’s past. Charles parried the questions with his customary skill, but her tension rose with every question, every comment.
How long would it be before her father said too much? She knew how he loved to talk. If he got started on any of his familiar stories, he’d give something away to a listener as acute as Quinn.
“You’re going to be here for the craft fair, aren’t you, Quinn?” Gwen must have decided that a change of subject was in order. “I’m counting on you to help us out with it.”
“I guess so.” His gaze turned inward, as if he consulted a mental calendar. “I’m on leave from the project for a month.”
Gwen pouted prettily. “You and that project. There’s always a new one. This is the first decent vacation you’ve taken in two years. I’m sure there are plenty of jobs for engineers here in Pennsylvania.”
“I have to go where the corps sends me. The work we’re doing is important.” Quinn sent his mother a quelling look.
“Why don’t you work here, Daddy?” Kristie took up the offensive. “Then you could come home every night. You could coach my soccer team, and we could go fishing and you could help with Bible school.”
Quinn looked a bit harassed, and Ellie had to smile. Maybe coping with his daughter’s wishes would distract him from her father.
“Honey, I can’t do that. Not right now. Let’s just enjoy my leave, okay? Hey, we haven’t talked about your birthday yet, and it’ll be here before you know it. Have you decided what you want?”
He wasn’t quite as skilled as her father in changing the subject when it got uncomfortable, but he’d probably improve with practice. She found herself wanting to tell him to answer his daughter’s question, and reminded herself it was none of her business.
Kristie tipped her head to one side, considering the question. “I want a chocolate cake,” she said firmly. “With white icing and lots of sprinkles.”
“We can probably manage that,” Quinn said.
“And a party with Ms. Ellie and her daddy.” She tilted her head toward Ellie. “You’ll come, won’t you? Please?”
Ellie tried not to look at Quinn, knowing what she’d see in his eyes. “If we get an invitation.” He undoubtedly wanted her to make an excuse, but she wouldn’t lie to the child.
“What about your present?” Quinn’s voice was even, but she could detect tension underneath. “A little bird told me you were thinking about a two-wheeler.”
Kristie giggled. “That wasn’t a little bird, Daddy. That was me!”
“Oh, yes, that’s where I heard it. So, what do you think? Is it going to be a bicycle?”
She shook her head decisively. “I decided there’s something I want even more.”
Quinn looked surprised, and Ellie wondered if he’d already picked out a bicycle. A six-year-old’s wants tended to change from moment to moment, but Kristie would probably be delighted with whatever her father gave her.
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know if I should tell.” Kristie wrinkled her nose. “Do you think it’s sort of like wishing on your candles? I mean, if you want something really, really bad, maybe you’ll get it if you don’t tell.”
“If you don’t tell,” Ellie pointed out, “Daddy won’t know where to buy it.”
“He doesn’t have to buy it!” For some reason, Kristie thought that was hilarious.
A spasm of apprehension crossed Quinn’s face. “Even so, sweetheart, I think you’d better tell me.”
Kristie considered a moment, then nodded. “Well, see, it’s something I was praying about. Ms. Ellie taught us about praying in Sunday school. And she said that God always answers, but sometimes He has to say no.” She turned to Ellie. “Isn’t that what you said?”
Now she was the one who was apprehensive, Ellie thought as she nodded. What on earth had she said that played into Kristie’s birthday wish?
“So I decided I’d ask for it for my birthday,” Kristie said confidently. “I always get what I want for my birthday, and if I do that and pray, too, I’m sure to get it.”
“I don’t think…” Ellie began, then fell silent when Quinn frowned at her.
“So what is it you want?” Quinn looked afraid to find out.
Kristie smiled confidently. “I want you to get married so I can have a mommy. Then you’ll come home to stay.”
“So, do you think you understand now?” Quinn concentrated on his daughter, seated between him and Ellie on the back porch swing. He tried to ignore the way Ellie’s arm curved around Kristie, the way her hand brushed his as she patted the child.
Think about your daughter, he lectured himself. Not about Ellie Wayne, no matter how attractive she is.
Now where had that come from? He was not attracted to Ellie. Her hair tickled his shoulder, escaping as usual from its band, and the faint scent of roses teased his senses, mingling with the spicy aroma of his mother’s marigolds. It looked as if he’d have to keep reminding himself he wasn’t.
They’d just tried to explain to Kristie the difference between prayer and birthday wishes, and he still wasn’t sure they’d succeeded. Maybe he’d have been better off doing this without Ellie, but he felt she carried some of the responsibility.
“I guess so.” Kristie looked up at him with trust shining in her eyes. “But that’s still what I want for my birthday, okay?”
He tried to suppress a sigh of exasperation. “Kristie…” he began, but she slid off the swing and patted his knee like a little mother.
“It’s okay, Daddy. You think about it. I’ll go help Grandma with dessert while you decide.”
She
