Bonnie K. Winn - Family Ties

“I’m on to you guys,” Cindy told the girls with mock seriousness as she wiped one face, only to see another triplet smear granola cereal across her cheek.

They only giggled more.

Each of the girls was secured in a booster seat, bowls and spoons in the same vicinity, as they sat around the breakfast table with Cindy.

“Here you are,” Flynn greeted them. Awakening only moments earlier, he’d been startled to find all three girls gone from their beds. Passing Cindy’s room, which was next to the girls’, he could see it was empty, as well.

Cindy and his daughters glanced up at him in unison. The girls garbled out greetings mixed with cereal and juice, slurry versions of “Daddy.”

“Morning,” Cindy greeted him.

Flynn was unable to shake the frown from his face. “You didn’t have to do this.”

She shrugged easily. “No big deal. I was up, they got up. So we’re eating.”

“But they’re a lot of trouble to feed and—”

“Not really. Besides, it’s more fun than eating by myself with only the newspaper for company.”

“Oh.” Deflated, he wasn’t certain what to say. For the past year, despite a housekeeper, nannies and sitters, much of his daughters’ care had fallen on him. It was disconcerting to see how easily Cindy took over the chore. “They weren’t up this early the last few days.”

“Takes a while to get settled into a new place. And it’s possible I woke them when I got up.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You’re two rooms over. Besides, like I said, it’s no big deal. Actually, it’s kind of fun.” Mandy decorated her golden, honey-blond hair that moment with a glob of cereal. Cindy laughed aloud as she reached for a damp towel. “For the most part, anyway.”

“I’m up. I can take over.”

“Why don’t you grab some coffee?” Cindy smoothed the towel gently over Mandy’s hair, removing most of the cereal. “No sense jumping in till you’re awake.” She stood just then, moving over to the refrigerator, drawing out a container of organic apple juice.

His mouth opened as he intended to tell her to back off, that these were his children, that he would feed them breakfast. She spun around, however, at that moment her face pulling into a tentative look of speculation. “You know, I may have to take you up on that offer. I got so caught up in the girls I forgot today is Tuesday, my Rainbow class day.”

Pottery, he guessed, or some similar sort of thing. She’d always been involved in one crazy project after another. Julia had reported on her sister’s escapades often enough. But that had only reinforced his opinion. Cindy was fun, reckless and totally without responsibility. He’d finally stopped listening to Julia’s tales, having learned enough about Cindy. He had grown up in a home where fun had been valued over stability and it had ruined all their lives. It was the reason he’d always remained detached from Cindy. Now she was offering him back the responsibility for the girls so she could run off to some mindless class. “Fine.”

She smiled. “I have a few minutes, though, if you’d like that coffee.”

His voice sounded stiff even to his own ears. “It’s not necessary. I have managed to feed them and drink my coffee for the past year.”

Her brows drew together. “Of course, but—”

The phone rang, cutting off her reply.

Flynn could only hear one end of the conversation, but he didn’t need to listen long to learn that it sounded as though she planned to meet half a dozen friends for the day’s outing.

“Fine, I’ll pick up Lisa and Heather on the way, too,” Cindy continued on the phone. She glanced at her watch. “But I’d better run.” She turned back to Flynn after clicking off the phone. “You sure you’re okay on your own? I could make some arrangements if—”

“No. I told you I didn’t want our staying here to interfere with your life.”

“It’s not. It’s just that today—”

“Go,” he replied shortly, sliding into the chair nestled between the girls.

Looking as though she wanted to continue what she was saying, instead Cindy nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”

That was more like it, he thought to himself after she left the kitchen. He hadn’t asked for or wanted Cindy’s help. Turning back to the girls, he saw that they weren’t happy with her disappearance, though.

“Cinny,” they wailed in unison.

“Daddy’s here.” He comforted them.

“Cinny!” they continued demanding.

“Cereal?” he questioned, pushing a measure of enthusiasm into his voice, staring down at the unfamiliar granola, thinking it didn’t look very appetizing.

But when he glanced up, three minor storms had descended over their faces.

“It wasn’t my idea for her to leave,” he attempted.

Beth, always the loudest of the triplets, banged her spoon on the edge of the table. “Cinny!”

“Okay, time to settle down and eat your breakfast.”

Although they weren’t happy with the request, they eventually complied. Three sticky faces later, he was near the end of his patience. It was going to take forever to get the girls cleaned up, not to mention the damage they’d done to Cindy’s formerly spotless kitchen floor. It wasn’t how he’d anticipated the day, but there was no getting around the fact. He was going to be scraping up granola for at least part of the morning.

Cindy was tired. Her usually endless supply of energy was running low. It had started draining that morning when Flynn pulled his stiff, get-out-of-my-face act. She’d tried to repump, knowing the Rainbow children needed all she had to give. But his mood had intruded on hers the entire day—even though today had also been filled with rewards.

None of them was the large variety that impressed most people. Rather the small ones, like when Heather offered to share a toy. Not remarkable for most children. But then Heather wasn’t the average child. She’d lost her parents and younger brother in a car accident. Now, living with an aunt and uncle who didn’t really want her, she’d become hostile, desocialized. A few months earlier Cindy had convinced the child’s guardians to allow Heather to attend the Rainbow class.

The class had begun three years earlier with one lonesome little girl, Lana, the child of a single father who was desperate to round out his daughter’s life with the happiness she’d lost along with her mother. Cindy, full of love she’d yet to give anyone, lavished it on Lana, finally coaxing smiles, then laughter from her sad little face. Then another emotionally scarred child had come along. And another.

Katherine had encouraged Cindy when she’d suggested forming a group. And the Rainbow class was born. Children continued to join, all with a variety of needs, no two the same. Yet they came together in the Rainbow class, a healing, nurturing place.

Normally days spent with her “Rainbow” kids were ones of great satisfaction. But the nagging feelings she’d carried with her from the house had stolen some of that pleasure.

As she pulled into her driveway, Cindy couldn’t halt a jolt of apprehension. It wasn’t a simple emotion, but one tied in to her feelings for Flynn, his obvious dissatisfaction and the grand mess she’d made by inviting him to stay in her house.

For the first time since purchasing the winsome Victorian, she was reluctant to enter. Her throat caught—this, her place of refuge, was no longer a sanctuary. Forcing the dregs of her energy to respond, she pushed open the front door.

And entered chaos.

The triplets, who appeared to have dragged every toy in the house to the front hall and parlor, were running through both rooms as though flung like buckshot.