Felicia Mason - Sweet Devotion

The girl beamed, but didn’t say anything.

“Come on, you guys, let the Cookie Lady through.” Marnie Shepherd shooed kids away. “Why don’t you go get your mats and show the Cookie Lady how good little boys and girls greet guests?”

The kids raced off, and Amber laughed. Sutton glanced over her shoulder at Amber. She sent the little girl a three-finger wave.

“You do have a way with them,” Amber said to Marnie.

Shaking her head, Marnie smiled. “You’d think they’d never had cookies before. It’s good to see you again, Amber.”

The two women headed to the area where once a week Amber sat in a rocking chair, read a story to the kids, then passed out cookies from her basket. She took pleasure in the activity and always suspected that she got more out of it than the kids did.

“Hey, I have all but three permission slips back for next week. And,” Marnie added, pleased with herself, “there are four parent volunteers to make sure things stay under control.”

“I’m impressed,” Amber said. “But remember, we’re not really baking. The no-bake cookies are pretty easy. It’s mostly just mixing ingredients. We won’t need that much help.”

“Oh, yes, we will.”

Amber shrugged. What did she know about kids? “If you say so.”

She paused at the aquarium, mesmerized as the fish in the huge tank swam by. Watching tropical fish could be the most calming thing.

A little boy approached. “Come on, Cookie Lady. We’re all ready.”

“Well then, let’s get started.”

Amber followed her young escort to the section of the room designated with a colorful banner proclaiming it Story Corner.

Some of the children tried to put their mats in front of others to claim a seat closer to the rocker where she’d sit. Amber smiled as one of the aides got them all settled, assuring everyone that they would be able to both see and hear the story. Looking over them, Amber’s gaze fell on Sutton.

She liked Sutton. The quiet little girl with the strawberry-blond curls reminded Amber of herself at that age. All pigtails and wide eyes, Sutton never said a lot, but Amber could tell she was bright; the child’s eyes never missed a thing and she’d unselfconsciously laugh at a joke until someone noticed her, then hide her face. The girl’s older brother always hovered near, keeping her in sight like a miniature bodyguard.

Amber smiled, wryly this time, for that, too, was a familiar scene. Her own older brother had always assumed the role of champion and protector—whether she had wanted him to or not. When she’d really needed a protector, however, Kyle had been half a world away. She’d neither seen nor heard from him in about five, maybe six years, and since she remained incommunicado with her parents, who probably knew his whereabouts, there existed little chance of finding him.

As she watched the boy—she believed Jonathan was his name—bend over and tie the little girl’s shoes, Amber realized just how much she missed Kyle. Moisture filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened.

“Amber?”

“Huh?” She wiped at her eyes and glanced over at Marnie.

“Are you all right?”

Amber nodded, then forced a grin. “Fit as a fiddle and feeling fine.”

After placing the cookie basket on a low table, Amber took her seat in the rocker and addressed the children. It was an effort to dispel thoughts of Kyle, but she put a real smile on her face and in her voice.

“Today, Miss Shepherd tells me that my helper will be from the five-year-old class. All the five-year-olds, raise your hands.”

About eight little arms shot up in the air.

“Oh, my. I’m the lucky one today. So who will it be?”

“Me! Me!”

Marnie stepped up with a paper bag. “Have a seat, Junior. You know the rules.”

Each time the Cookie Lady—or any special guest—paid a visit, one child got to be the helper. The special role rotated among the age groups. All the children wanted to be the helper when the Cookie Lady came. Being her assistant meant getting to wear a special apron as well as receiving an extra cookie.

Marnie shook the bag with the five-year-olds’ names in it. Then, with her eyes squeezed shut, Amber stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out a slip of paper. She read out the name written in blue crayon: “Sutton.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. Then, suddenly unsure, she scuttled back. Her brother was right there.

“It’s okay, Sutton. You get to be the helper today.”

Amber held out a hand. “I have the Cookie Lady apron for you to wear. Would you like that?”

The girl nodded.

Amber held it out. Sutton got up and put her hand in Amber’s. The two smiled at each other as they donned their aprons.

Sometimes in addition to passing out cookies, the helper turned pages in the storybook. Amber whispered something to Sutton, who nodded and whispered something back. Then Amber started reading the story.

Today’s tale came straight from the barnyard and required a lot of animal sound effects.

Paul dropped Caleb off at the police station, then continued his patrol of the town. Even though he served as chief of police, a job largely administrative in a town the size of Wayside, Paul had put himself in the patrol shift rotation after he got acclimated to the day-to-day job as chief. He wanted to get better acquainted with the Wayside community and its residents, and there was no better way to do that than work patrol. And in East Wayside, a section more prone to crime, he walked a beat, getting to know people.

Today, though, since the center was near his patrol area, he decided to swing by to see if Caleb’s cookie lady was indeed the Amber he’d met last night. Sutton and Jonathan raved about the Cookie Lady. Paul wanted to see for himself. Maybe last night had been an aberration.

Where his kids were concerned, Paul had to admit to being an overly protective and cautious parent. He’d checked out several programs before choosing Sunshine and Rainbows. Three different people, including Eunice, had recommended it. It was going well, so far. He’d even signed up to be a parent volunteer when they had a cooking lesson next week.

Paul strode into Sunshine and Rainbows and greeted the aide who manned the front desk.

“Hi, Chief Evans. Did you come to check on the kids?”

Paul took off the Wayside Police Bureau cap he wore and tucked it in a pocket. “I was just in the area,” he said, feeling a little guilty since he’d deliberately put himself in the area. “Thought I’d stop by. How’s everything going?”

“Just fine,” she said with a grin. “The Cookie Lady is here.”

Paul bit back a smile. This grown woman sounded as delighted about that as Sutton and Jonathan had been the last time this infamous Cookie Lady put in an appearance.

“Everybody’s in the activities room,” she told him. “She just started reading not too long ago. If you hurry, you’ll get to hear some of the story.”

“I think I will,” Paul said.

He headed to the center of the U-shaped building. Classrooms and nap rooms ringed the perimeter, but the center of activity was the core of the horseshoe, a large room subdivided by a hundred-gallon aquarium to the right and a bunny cage to the left.

The fish usually caught his eye and gave him a reason to pause. But not today. His gaze zeroed in on the story corner.

What he saw floored him.

Like peacocks showing off their plumes, Amber Montgomery and his daughter strutted around, clucking and fluttering their arms. The children sitting on mats on the floor giggled, some of them rolling over on the floor laughing.

The sight of Amber and Sutton stopped Paul cold for two reasons. Sutton never, ever opened up like that. And the two of them together had to be the most adorable sight he’d seen in a long time.