her,” she said, her chubby cheeks creased with a smile. “She’s nice.”
He put his hand on Rosie’s dark hair. “I do, too, sweetie.” In another life he’d probably ask her out.
Rosie took his hand and tugged on it. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go to Story Time!”
He let himself be led by his daughter, taking a moment to corral his thoughts, reminding himself that he wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic relationship. Teresa had cheated on him and left him for Spense. That was bad enough. Terrible, actually. But worse yet, she’d been making noises about going for full custody. At this point, fresh off a traumatic divorce, Sam was leery of romance and had, on the advice of his lawyer, chosen not to risk custody issues with any kind of dating at the moment. Nothing was worth losing his kids.
Right now his life was about his job and Nicky and Rosie. There wasn’t room for anything more. That was just the way it was, and he didn’t have the time or energy to fight the truth, much less the stomach for constant conflict with Teresa. What else could a good father do?
* * *
The story rug was right around the bookcase, tucked into the far corner of the store. Allison already had Nicky sitting on the round, fluffy, bright red rug alongside three other kids who looked to be about the twins’ age. Sam spied Allison at a bookshelf to the left, searching for a title.
Women who were obviously the moms of the kids sat in adult-size chairs lined up at the outer rim of the rug. Sam led Rosie to the rug, and then retreated to the background, wanting a bird’s-eye view of Nicky since he rarely sat still for much of anything. The kiddo had two speeds—off and way, way on—so Sam wanted to be prepared to herd him back to the rug when Nicky popped up, on to whatever caught his fickle attention.
Allison settled herself into an upholstered chair facing the kids, a book in her hands, her face glowing, her mouth formed into a brilliant smile that had his breath hitching again in a very alarming way. Even so, he felt himself automatically honing in on her pretty face, her big, expressive eyes in particular.
“Okay, story listeners, can we all quiet down, please?” She paused, her brows raised, clearly waiting for the kids to focus in on her.
After a few moments all five kids quieted and turned their attention to her. “Excellent work at listening,” she said, giving a gentle nod to each child in turn. “So. Are you all ready for a really fun story about a steam shovel?”
An excited chorus rose from the children. “Yes!”
Nicky stood up. “I love steam shovels!” he crowed, his hands in the air.
“I do, too,” Allison replied with a patient smile. “But we all have to sit crisscross applesauce on the story rug before the story can begin.”
Rosie tugged on Nicky’s arm. “Sit down, Nicky.” She pointed to her crisscross position on the floor. “See?”
Sam held his breath, hoping Nicky went against tradition and sat down, preparing himself to swoop in and take control if necessary.
Nicky jerked his arm away from his sister, defiance clear in the tilt of his chin. “Don’t boss me, Ro-Ro.”
Uh-oh. Typical conflict between the twins: Rosie trying to boss Nicky and Nicky rebelling. Sam prepared to head their way to break up the skirmish.
Allison piped in, her voice calm and soothing. “Nicky, I forgot to say that every story listener who sits quietly will get to come up here and help me turn the pages.”
Nicky’s head swung her way. “Me, too?”
“If you sit quietly, yes.” She pointed to the spot on the rug next to Rosie. “So, would you please sit down crisscross applesauce, and we’ll start the story about the steam shovel?”
Sam braced for a meltdown; it could go either way with Nicky. He was a good kid, but not as mature as Rosie, and didn’t always deal well with following directions, especially if they went against what he wanted to do. Pair that with his headstrong personality and the end result was often a messy fit that could be heard three blocks away.
“Can I help first?” Nicky asked.
Sam cringed as his son’s impatient side made an appearance. He sneaked a glance at the other moms, embarrassed, but they seemed to be taking the holdup in stride. In fact, one was texting on her cell phone and wasn’t paying any attention at all.
“Whoever sits still and is quietest gets to help first,” Allison said.
Nicky instantly plopped down. “I’ll sit.” He rested his chin on his knees.
Allison gave Nicky an approving smile. “Good choice, Nicky.” She held up the book, facing outward, and turned to the first page. “Let’s begin.”
She proceeded to read the story about Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel, Mary Anne. Sam had heard the story when he was a kid, so he was familiar with the plot, and how Mike and Mary Anne went to the country and dug the town hall basement in a day but didn’t leave themselves a ramp to get out.
Even though the story wasn’t new to him, he listened, transfixed, as Allison made the story come alive using uniquely creative voices for each of the characters. She read at just the right pace and knew how to point out relevant things in the illustrations as she narrated the story. She truly had a gift for storytelling.
All the kids listened intently, including Nicky. Partway through the book, Allison invited Nicky and a little blonde girl with curly hair to help her turn the pages. Nicky jumped up, grinning, and stood still at Allison’s side and took turns turning the pages with the little girl.
Amazed, Sam watched Nicky follow directions and share responsibility. Willingly. With his heart getting mushy, Sam let his gaze drift to Allison. She had a way with kids, no doubt about it. His kid in particular. She knew exactly how to handle Nicky. He only wished he could be half as patient and able as she was. Guilt shot through him and struck a familiar blow to his conscience; the divorce had been hardest on the kids.
Relaxing for a few precious moments, he let his gaze wander to Nicky and Rosie, then over to Allison. Inevitably, he thought back to his senior year in high school, when Allison had started to bloom and he’d started noticing her as more than just a friend. She may have considered herself a “gangly teenager,” but Sam now recalled when that had all started to change.
Lori had discouraged him from dating Allison, afraid it would cost them their friendship if a relationship between him and Allison didn’t work out. Besides, Lori had asked, would he remain committed to her after he went off to college? He hadn’t been sure—what eighteen-year-old guy would be?—so he’d dropped the idea, not ready to settle down. He’d gone off to college, and that had been that.
He looked at Allison now, noting her patience, kindness, ready smile and fresh, understated beauty.
And couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t made a big mistake ten years ago.
A whisper from behind Sam interrupted the tough questions running through his head. “It’s good to see her back in Bygones, isn’t it?”
He
