Mia Ross - His Two Little Blessings

“Would you like to join us?” he blurted without thinking. That was unusual for him, a guy who normally considered every angle of a situation before deciding how to respond. But this sweet, soft-spoken artist had gotten to him on a level he didn’t quite understand, and he was definitely off his game.

“Are you sure? I mean, this is family time for you.”

“Oh, please stay, Emma!” Caitlin begged, tugging one of her hands while Aubrey latched onto the other. “Daddy told us about your project, and I want to help.”

“Me, too,” Aubrey chimed in. “But I’m not allowed to use the big scissors. They’re too sharp.”

“Then we’ll find you some smaller ones,” Emma assured her, leaning down to pull them into an adorable group hug. “It’s a big job, and your daddy and I can use all the hands we can get.”

“That’s settled, then,” Rick announced just as the oven timer rang. Stepping back, he motioned them into the dining room, where the table was neatly set for three. “Ladies, if you’ll make yourselves comfortable, I’ll bring in our dinner.”

“And an extra plate for Emma,” Caitlin reminded him in a tone that was far too grown up for his taste. He had a feeling that before he could blink, his six-year-old would be sixteen and he’d be meeting her potential boyfriends at the door, casually holding his nine-iron in a not-so-subtle warning.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, swallowing a laugh as he got to work.

The three of them normally occupied half of the round cherry dining table so they could more easily talk and pass the dishes. To accommodate their visitor, they sat more evenly spaced, chatting about their days as if the four of them ate together every night. To anyone out on the sidewalk passing by the large bay window, they’d look like any other family sharing a meal at the end of the day. It struck him again that while he’d taken over Sarah’s care of the girls, he couldn’t ever take her place.

Not that he hadn’t tried, he mused with a frown. It just wasn’t possible.

“Daddy?”

Aubrey’s voice dragged him back to their dinner, and he looked over at her. “Yes?”

“You look sad.”

“I’m fine, baby,” he assured her, forcing a smile. “How’s your lasagna?”

“Yummy. Mrs. Fields let me help her put the noodles in the pan. They were all slippery, and she let me eat some of the broken ones. It was fun.”

“Aw, I wish I could’ve done that,” Caitlin complained.

“You were at school, working on your painting with me,” Emma reminded her. “You had your fun, and Aubrey had hers. That makes a nice day for everyone.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish I could’ve done both.”

“I know, but we can’t be in two places at once,” Emma said with an understanding smile. “Some other time, Aubrey can be the artist and you can be the cook.”

Caitlin absorbed that and nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.”

The young teacher’s quick defusing of a potentially difficult situation was impressive, to say the least. “Emma, do you work for the UN in your spare time?”

Tilting her head, she gave him a quizzical look. “I’m sorry?”

“That was very diplomatic of you. I had no idea you were such a good mediator.”

“Oh, that’s nothing.” She laughed, waving away the compliment. “Try negotiating a truce between two kindergarteners who both want to use the same purple crayon. That’s a challenge.” Beaming from one of his daughters to the other, she added, “You two are wonderful by comparison.”

Rick thought so. But to hear that kind of comment from someone who’d witnessed them at less than their best behavior was comforting. He often worried that his hectic schedule prompted him to be too lenient with them as a way to make up for the hours that he was away from home. It was nice to know that Emma didn’t see it that way.

After dinner they each took responsibility for a part of the cleaning-up process. There was a lot of laughter and teasing, especially when Aubrey’s hair ribbon somehow found its way into the dishwasher. Once the kitchen was back to its usual state, Emma brought her bin in from the kitchen and set in on the dining room table. Rick fetched his laptop, and after a bit of wrangling around the girls, they all got to work.

“How about this one?” Caitlin asked Emma, showing her a picture a first-grader had sketched of her new kitten.

“Hmm...” Emma responded, tilting it toward Aubrey. “What do you think?”

Clearly pleased to be included in such a grown-up endeavor, his youngest studied it closely before declaring, “It’s nice. I like cats.”

“I like dogs,” Caitlin said.

“I like both,” Emma told them, spreading the artwork out so they could see it better. “Let’s see if we can find a puppy picture in here somewhere, to balance it out. That way people who prefer one or the other will be happy.”

Rick tapped away on his computer, glancing up now and then to see how things were going in the art department. He’d done so many presentations, he could probably compose them in his sleep by now. This one was about as simple as it got, so he was able to look busy while he kept an eye on the ladies’ progress.

Usually, the girls clamped on to him the moment he got home and didn’t let go until bedtime. Tonight they seemed perfectly content with Emma’s attention, and it was interesting to watch them interact with her in such a warm, easygoing way. She was calm by nature, and she treated them more like short adults who deserved respect than like children to be coddled. He liked that.

More than that, he realized suddenly, he liked her. Emma’s kindness and generosity had swept effortlessly through his little family, bringing them a friend at a time when they desperately needed one.

She’d been so good to them, and now he knew that helping her save the art program that was so dear to her was the ideal way to thank her. So he put his head down and got to work.

* * *

Emma had never been so nervous in her life.

Not even her first day of student teaching had caused her this much stress, and she was at a loss to explain why. Waiting on the front landing of the high school for Rick, she reminded herself that she’d handled evenings like this before all by herself and they’d gone perfectly fine. She’d started attending the board meetings a couple of years ago when she’d first pitched her idea of transforming her impromptu art club into a bona fide after-school program, free of charge for any student who wanted to come. Some of the high schoolers who came in functioned as her assistants, helping the younger ones when they needed attention and she was occupied elsewhere. She suspected that the mentor role benefited the older students as much as the younger ones, and it was rewarding for her to know that she’d had a hand in helping these talented young people grow.

As promised, Rick’s sedan pulled into the parking lot fifteen minutes before seven, and some of her anxiety receded. Because of his coaching and encouragement, she was confident that the concise, logical presentation they’d prepared was top-notch. It was her delivery she wasn’t so sure of, but she swallowed her fear and plastered a smile on her face as she went to meet him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she blurted, cringing at the desperate note in her voice. She sounded like a teenager dreading a speech she had to make for English class rather than a competent adult. “I’m sorry—I guess I’m more on edge than I realized.”

“Totally understandable,” he assured her with a smile that looked as if he’d practiced it in a mirror. “This program is important to you, and it’s natural to be a little anxious about tonight. That’s why we put so much effort into refining the bullet points you’re going to present to the board. Remember?”