A Child's Wish. Tara Quinn Taylor

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But one who looked all dirty and long-haired and tattooed like James?

      She wanted to ask if his daughter had tattoos, too, but she was afraid that Mom would switch back to being cranky again. Even as old as Kelsey was now, that part of her mom still scared her.

       CHAPTER TWO

      “HI, MS. FOSTER, come on in. Daddy said you were coming. Can we do some more of that yarn stuff like we did last time?”

      Meredith grinned at the petite little girl with long, straight dark hair. Her face was often solemn, but right now she was smiling profusely. “Hi, Kelse,” Meredith said, stepping through Mark Shepherd’s front door, a denim bag over her shoulder. “Yes, I brought plastic canvas and yarn. I thought we’d make a butterfly bank for your room—how’s that sound?”

      “Cool! I got that new comforter, too,” the child said, closing and locking the door before skipping ahead in front of Meredith. “You know the purple and pink one with butterflies?”

      “I remember,” Meredith said, completely comfortable with Kelsey. If only her father were already gone and Meredith wouldn’t have to suffer through even a few minutes in his company.

      “You want to see it?”

      Did she want to run the risk of running into Mark in the bedroom hallway?

      “I do, but can I put this down first?” She slid her bag down her arm.

      “Oh.” Kelsey’s expression was momentarily blank as she glanced at the bag. “Sure. I forgot. Sorry.”

      “No need to apologize, honey.” Even before she’d had Kelsey in class the year before, Meredith had adored this child. She was sensitive and aware and far more responsible than most kids her age. Meredith missed seeing her every day.

      Heading for the kitchen where they’d sit at the table and work on their project with the little TV mounted beneath a cupboard playing one of the Doris Day movies she’d brought, Meredith set her bag down and waited. Once Mark was on his way, the tension would be gone.

      “I love your jeans,” Kelsey said, plopping onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “I wanted some with beads like that, only instead of flowers they had butterflies, but Daddy said all that stuff would come off in the wash anyway.”

      Oh, great. She was already in the doghouse with this man and now she either had to lie and say that the jeans fell apart when she washed them, or she would have to tell his daughter he was wrong about that. She bent to pet the calico cat that was weaving itself in and out between her legs.

      “Are you and Daddy fighting again?” Kelsey’s pert nose wrinkled as she glanced over at Meredith.

      “Why would you ask that?”

      “You are, aren’t you?” Kelsey frowned. “He said Susan asked you to come over tonight and usually he asks, and since he sees you at school and all, it’s not like he couldn’t get ahold of you. I figured that meant you were fighting again.”

      As the cat wandered off to investigate something more interesting, Meredith dropped down opposite Kelsey, hating the tightness she was feeling just beneath her rib cage. It meant she wasn’t relaxed—and it was uncomfortable. “Your father and I don’t fight.”

      “Well, you don’t maybe. I don’t think you’d ever have a fight with anyone. But he sure gets mad at you.”

      So much for keeping things between teacher and principal.

      “Do the other kids at school know that, or are you extra smart?”

      “I think it’s just me, ’cause I live with him,” Kelsey said, her adult-sounding assurances so touching.

      “Well…” Meredith took a deep breath and sent up a quick request for assistance, please. “Sometimes I get a little carried away when I try to help, and your dad doesn’t want me to lose my job.”

      “How could you? He’s your boss.”

      “Yes, but the school board is his boss and if they told him to fire me, he’d have to do it.”

      “Are they going to tell him that?”

      “No, sweetie, they aren’t,” Meredith said, with a cheerful smile, crossing her fingers. “Your dad just worries a lot sometimes.”

      “I do not worry.”

      Swinging around, Meredith stood up and saw Mark in the doorway behind her. His snug-fitting jeans and long-sleeved white shirt distracted her for a moment—but only for a moment.

      “You worry all the time,” she told him. “About everything.”

      “I get concerned, with legitimate cause. I do not worry.” He said the words firmly, with a completely straight face.

      Meredith burst out laughing. Kelsey’s worried stare settled on her father, until Mark slowly smiled.

      Thank goodness. He was finished being angry with her. This time.

      “I’m out of here, pumpkin,” he said, resting his hand on his daughter’s head.

      She nodded.

      “Bedtime is ten tonight, since Meredith is here and it’s not a school night.”

      “Thanks.”

      “Don’t answer the…”

      “Door.” Kelsey turned around to grin at her father. “We know the rules, Daddy,” she said with only a hint of condescension.

      “Then give me a hug so I can get lost, as you two are obviously eager to have me do.”

      Meredith’s throat grew tight as she watched Kelsey jump up and throw her arms around her father’s trim waist. Mark held on for a long moment and then let her go, glancing over at Meredith.

      “I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

      She didn’t want to think about why—it was kind of embarrassing—but at the same time she was glad to know that Susan was intimately involved. Her best friend was slowly but surely coming back to life.

      “Tell Suze I said hi and I love her.”

      With a nod, Mark was gone.

      An hour later, the muscles beneath Meredith’s rib cage still had not relaxed.

      “You feeling okay?” she asked Kelsey. Tongue peeping out one side of her mouth, the girl was intent on following the pattern of squares and colors that Meredith had placed on the table in front of her.

      “Fine,” Kelsey said, her needle going through the plastic canvas with quiet deliberation.

      Meredith had assumed that as soon as Mark left she’d relax. She’d been fine before she arrived. So what was making her tense? Her own internal radar? Someone else’s?

      The fact that Mark and Susan were doing what adults do when they’re alone

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