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 shoulders, to feel protected and cherished and totally safe.
She was all grown up now, perfectly capable of protecting and cherishing her daughter as well as looking after herself and a certain golden retriever puppy in the bargain. But could she be both mother and father to her little girl?
Was she, and the love she offered, enough?
“I don’t cry when I’m happy,” Madison said as Kendra pulled the car back out onto the road. “I laugh when I’m happy.”
“Makes sense,” Kendra conceded, laughing herself.
They drove on to Three Trees, parked in front of the furniture store and hastened inside, hand in hand.
And they found the perfect bed almost immediately—
it was twin-size, made of gleaming brass, with four high posts and a canopy frame on top. A dresser, a bureau and two night tables, all French provincial in style, completed the ensemble.
Kendra paid for their purchases—the pieces were to be delivered the next day, bright and early—and before they knew it, they were almost home again.
Madison, seemingly deep in thought for most of the drive, piped up as they pulled into the driveway. “Mommy, we forgot to buy a bed for you.”
“I already have one, honey,” Kendra responded, stopping the car alongside the guesthouse. She’d selected a few modest pieces from the mansion to take along to the new place. Most of the furniture in the main house was too big and too fancy for the simple colonial. There was a queen-size bed in one of the guest rooms that would work, a floral couch in the study, and they could use the table and chairs from Opal’s old apartment.
Kendra wanted to leave room for some new things, too.
She parked the car and turned Madison loose, and they raced each other to the guest cottage, where Daisy met them at the door, barking a happy greeting.
Kendra set aside her purse, washed her hands, and searched the cottage fridge for the makings of an evening meal. She was chopping the vegetables for a salad, to which she would add leftover chicken breasts, also chopped, when she heard a vehicle coming up the driveway.
Peering out the kitchen window, she saw Hutch Carmody getting out of his truck.
Her stomach lurched and her heartbeat quickened as she hurriedly wiped her hands on a dish towel and went outside. Daisy and Madison, who had been playing in the kitchen moments before, rushed out to greet him.
Soon they were all over him.
He laughed at their antics and swung Madison off the ground and up onto his shoulders, where she clung, laughing, too.
The last of the afternoon sunlight caught in their hair—Hutch’s a butternut color, Madison’s like copper flames—and the dog circled them, barking her excitement.
Kendra couldn’t help being struck by the sight of the man and the little girl and the dog, looking so happy,
