Don’t worry. Didn’t you just tell me worry is not what God wants for us?”
Lucia sighed and frowned. “Yes, but—”
“No buts. I’m taking the girls over to Luke Campbell’s house tomorrow afternoon once the store quiets down. If Marly and Noreen need help, can they call you?”
“Of course. But Luke Campbell? How did you meet him?”
“At the school,” Rainey explained. “It seems our children enjoy being naughty together.”
Lucia’s broad face split into a smile. “That is quite true. Each one thinking of some new way to put gray in my hair, but so sweet. Sweeter, though, when they sleep.”
Rainey laughed. “Well, we’re trying to work together to make them more comfortable in school. And maybe I can get the twins to help with the festival project.”
“And being with the girls is good for his boy.” Lucia nodded, satisfied. “I think this is good. His family is big and nice and they care for each other always.”
Her words reminded Rainey of the family she’d longed for as a child. She’d wanted the American dream. The Cosby Show come to life. Even after her mother married Tucker McKinney, money problems were pervasive. Getting the farm back on solid ground after Tucker’s wife had taken her share of the farm’s assets had been a struggle of work, work and more work.
Rainey had rebelled, too immature to realize that God blessed the work of human hands.
She’d been a foolish child, then a disrespectful teenager, but she’d changed. Now if she could only convince the community of that.
Chapter Three
On Saturday afternoon Luke scrubbed damp palms against the sides of his jeans and frowned.
Why did Rainey’s impending arrival with the twins make him nervous? Piper had brought the girls over plenty of times in the past.
This isn’t Piper.
This was Rainey, the bad-girl sister, the object of community-wide speculation, most of it negative.
He firmed his jaw, determined to keep things easy, friendly, and then she pulled into the driveway. The girls tumbled out of the backseat, laughing and racing to join Aiden in the tree house, with barely a hello to Luke.
He scarcely saw them. His attention was drawn to Rainey. His breath caught somewhere deep in his chest as she stepped out of the car. She’d clipped her long wave of hair into some kind of barrette behind her head. The hairstyle accented the perfect oval of her face, the high cheekbones, the delicate arch of her neck and throat. A tiny gold cross hung on a thin chain. She watched the girls race across the yard, then turned his way.
She saw his expression. Read his look.
She stood perfectly still, her eyes on his, and for the life of him, Luke didn’t want to break the connection. Finally, he moved forward, feeling like a gawky teen. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She flashed him a quiet smile and arched one brow in the direction of the tree. “They’re fine up there?”
“Have been so far. Notice I put rails around the edge, so they can’t fall.”
“Except from the ladder.”
He nodded. “I was thinking of adding a cushioned landing for them, just in case.”
“Or don’t, so they learn to hold on tight, because it really isn’t all that high.”
Luke sucked in a breath. Her advice sounded like something his family would say. “Life comes with enough peril attached.”
Rainey moved toward the tree house as she answered. “The more prepared we are, the better our chances of survival.”
“You think I baby Aiden.”
She turned, still smiling, and he saw no censure in her gaze. “I don’t know you well enough to make an assumption like that, and I’m stumbling through parenthood myself, so I’m not about to judge you on your methods.” Her tone didn’t condemn, it offered acceptance, and that felt good to Luke after the verbal scoldings he’d been getting lately. “I know life is a precious gift, and God expects us to take care of our children, heart and soul. That’s a balancing act right there.”
“Mommy, see?” Dorrie peered over the railing and waved to them. “Isn’t this the best tree house ever?”
“Amazing.” She drew the word out to underscore her approval, which shone in her face. Her eyes. The autumn sun silhouetted her profile, and Luke thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Mommy! Come see!” Sonya joined Dorrie at the tiny “porch” of the tree house. “You’ll love it up here!”
“Here I come.” She scrambled up the short ladder and faked a gasp. “Is that your kitchen?”
Aiden laughed out loud, a sound Luke didn’t hear often enough. “Yes. Daddy made it.”
She looked down at Luke, and he had to act fast to pretend he wasn’t appreciating the sight of her in her jeans. He wasn’t quite speedy enough, however, and the look she sent him—half scolding, half amused—said she didn’t really mind his admiration. She ignored the moment and indicated the interior of the tree house. “How’d you get that little kitchen set in there?”
“Classified information, ma’am.”
She studied him, then the tree house while the children giggled, buzzing like happy little bees at a hive. “You built it around the kitchen set?”
“Nope.”
She frowned, tapping her chin with one tawny-skinned finger, while the kids waited for her next guess. “The shoemaker’s elves put it together at night?”
“I only wish that was true.”
Sonya clapped a hand over her mouth, as if eager to spill the beans. Dorrie pretended to be calm. Aiden jumped up and down in tiny hops, excited to see what came next, and that made Luke’s smile widen. His son didn’t take to folks quickly, and that was partially Luke’s fault for sheltering him.
“Aha.” She aimed a triumphant look at the little ones, then him. “You took it in there piece by piece and assembled it inside.”
“Yes!” Aiden pumped his fist in the air. “How did you guess that?”
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mommy?”
“Don’t you just love it?”
She laughed, handed out kisses to the excited children, then climbed back down. Luke offered his hand when she was on the last rung of the ladder, and she hopped off, her eyes shining up at him and the three kids. “I’d have picnics in there all the time if I had a tree house like this.”
“Can we have one today, Luke?”
“Please?”
“Please,
