Family Ties: Family Ties / Promise Of Grace

“And do you remember what you told me? That if he didn’t love me for myself, he wasn’t the right one for me?”

“All too well,” Cindy admitted. “I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’t really want to change for him, yet I suppose I hoped he’d see me in a new light, realize my value.”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s blind.”

Cindy’s smile struggled to form, but failed. “Don’t you see? He always has been as far as I’ve been concerned. After he took one look at Julia, I was as appealing as an Easter egg you find in the middle of the summer.”

Katherine couldn’t stifle a smile. “Oh, Cindy. How can he not see how special you are? How much joy and adventure you bring to everything?”

Cindy shrugged. “He doesn’t care for adventure—that’s why he chose Julia.”

Wincing for her friend, Katherine met Cindy’s gaze, her voice gentle. “You also told me that I couldn’t be a substitute.”

“Believe it or not, that’s been the foremost thing on my mind these days. Even if I never find another man to love the way I do Flynn, I won’t settle for being Julia’s substitute.”

“I suspected as much.” Katherine hesitated. “Do you suppose now that Flynn is here, some of the illusion of denied love will lose its appeal?”

Cindy couldn’t control the tears that spurted, or the trembling of her lips. “That’s just it. Now that he’s here, it’s just worse. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. There is something about Flynn and only Flynn that’s in my heart and won’t go away. I’ve tried, Kath, I really have.” The tears gave way to gulping sobs. “I’ve tried not to love him, but it’s still there, every moment of every day.”

Katherine reached out, enveloping her in a hug, one that vibrated with great shaking wails of pain. And one that Cindy was helpless to stop.

That same evening Flynn tried to keep the lid on the rice cooker, while making sure the girls didn’t tug on any of the pot handles on the stove. But that was harder than he’d expected. Fearing they’d pull a pot off and burn themselves, he put them in the next room with a children’s video.

He’d chopped and diced for what seemed like hours. He’d found a fairly palatable-sounding recipe in one of Cindy’s cookbooks. It was a tofu stir-fry seasoned with oyster sauce. The instructions promised that the tofu would then taste like oysters. He had his doubts, but the dinner he was preparing wasn’t for him. It was for Cindy.

Belatedly it had occurred to him that perhaps she was worn-out. She still kept up her hectic social schedule with her Rainbow thing as well as other functions, and she’d also assumed the majority of the triplets’ care. Cooking dinner wouldn’t make a big dent in that pressure, but maybe it would create a small vent. The girls had loved going shopping for the ingredients. But some of their suggestions had the stir-fry looking a little questionable.

“What’s going on?” Cindy asked from the doorway.

Flynn spun around, seeing her gaze take in the messy kitchen. “You’re early. I’d planned to have everything cleaned up before you got here.”

“Oh,” she answered in a small voice.

“But I did get the table set in the dining room.”

“The dining room?” she echoed.

“Yeah. The stir-fry should be done soon.”

“You’re making stir-fry?”

He held up the cookbook. “I found the recipe in here. Between the grocery and health food stores we found everything we needed.”

“That’s what you were doing today?”

He smiled. “As you pointed out, there’s not a lot of action in Rosewood. And the girls enjoyed it.”

“Well…”

“I’d planned to have it all arranged in the dining room, but…surprise!”

“Surprise?” she echoed, looking stunned.

“Yeah. To say thanks for all you do for me, for the girls.” He walked toward the small sitting room just off the kitchen. “Girls, Cindy’s home.” As they scampered toward him, he stopped Alice, whispering to her, “Get your surprise.”

In a few moments Alice returned and came toward Cindy with a bouquet of daisies.

Cindy’s eyes misted as she accepted the flowers, then gave Alice a fierce hug.

“They seemed to suit you,” Flynn explained. “The daisies, I mean.”

Cindy’s throat worked. But Beth and Mandy were rushing at her, as well. Scooping them up in a hug, she hid her face behind their compact bodies. And Flynn couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that fiery head of hers.

Finally her face emerged as she settled the girls back on to the floor. “This is really nice. The dinner—” she held up the bouquet “—the flowers. Thanks.”

“I don’t say it often enough, but you’ve changed our lives and we appreciate it.”

Remarkably he thought her eyes brightened with the suspicion of tears. But that couldn’t be. Not freewheeling Cindy. She was all laughter, not tears.

She lowered her face, presumably to sniff the daisies. Her voice was soft, nearly muffled. “And you have changed mine.”

The girls pulled at her hands, tugging her toward the dining room to show off the table setting. But Flynn didn’t follow, instead remembering the remarkable look on her face, the remembered feelings it evoked. Feelings he thought he’d put to rest the day he proposed to Julia.

Chapter Six

A few days later, Flynn entered his daughters’ room. Once again he admired all of Cindy’s handiwork, but still he felt she had gone overboard. She claimed she wasn’t spoiling the girls, but he was worried about all her overly generous gestures. From experience he knew it wasn’t wise to grow up believing life was always this kind.

He reached down to pick up a discarded pair of pajamas the girls had left behind. As he stood, he noticed a new addition to the room. A picture of Jesus.

All the betrayal of his past choked him. It was one thing to spoil the girls, it was another to tamper with their beliefs.

Hearing Cindy’s steps in the hall outside the room, he called out for her. “Would you come in here?”

The echo of footfalls on the wooden floor paused, then turned into the room. “Yes?”

“What’s this?”

She glanced around the room. “What?”

“Don’t play games. This picture.”

Cindy looked back at him wryly. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“What’s it doing in here?”

She pointed to another picture on the wall—one filled with cartoon characters. “I’m decorating their room.”

“The picture of Jesus isn’t a decoration. It’s a statement.”