Family Ties: Family Ties / Promise Of Grace

“I think that’s an exaggeration. The girls aren’t even three years old yet.”

“The younger the mind, the easier it is to brainwash.”

“Brainwash?”

“Influence, then.”

“Flynn, they’re babies!”

“Then why the picture of Jesus?”

She hedged for only a moment. “I like the idea of Him looking over them, protecting them.”

“That’s a fairy tale,” he told her flatly, deep anger and remembered pain darkening his thoughts.

Shocked, she stared at him. “You can’t mean that!”

“Don’t delude yourself, Cindy. Especially for a craze you’ll forget by next month.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m chasing fads like a teenager?”

Exasperated, unwilling to face the pain in her expression, he threw up his hands. “All I asked is a simple question.”

“Then I’ll give you a simple answer. Your lack of faith is going to hurt your daughters. If you’re having a crisis of faith—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, with only the slightest grip on his anger.

She studied him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Nodding, she turned away.

“Cindy?”

She glanced at the picture on the wall. “I’ll take it down later. But I can’t guarantee that you won’t see it somewhere else in the house.”

Unable to watch her leave, he turned toward the window. Then he heard the sound of tiny steps, then a tug on his jeans.

Flynn glanced down. “Hey there, Alice.”

“Up?” she asked.

He obliged, picking her up until they were at eye level.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“Why you hate Jesus?”

He hadn’t known a fist to the gut could be delivered by a guileless toddler. “What makes you say that?”

Alice screwed up her precious face. “Me heard fight with Cinny. I wanna have Jesus here.”

“But it’s only a picture.”

“How come, then?”

Why not indeed? It was only a picture, it had no power over them. Over him.

Yet the torturous question accompanied him as he went through the motions of the day. It was late afternoon when he finally sought Cindy out again.

She was in the kitchen, preparing a huge casserole.

“That’s quite a lot of food,” he commented, not certain how to begin this discussion.

“For tonight,” Cindy replied. Then she glanced up, catching his puzzled glance. “Remember the people coming over tonight? I told you about them.”

“Oh, right. I’ll clear out pretty soon.”

Exasperation flooded her expression. “Flynn. I invited them over to meet you.”

He’d completely forgotten, caught up in hours of rare contemplation, a prisoner of a past he’d never outrun. “Of course.”

A buzzer went off and she walked to the oven, pulling out a fragrant tray of rolls. Searching for a place to put them on the crowded tile counter, she glanced up at him. “Did you need something?”

He moved aside the casserole dish at the end of the counter, making a place for the rolls. “I’ve been thinking…”

Uncharacteristically, she didn’t jump in with words to ease his way.

Which made him feel even stiffer, more uncomfortable. “It’s about this morning…the picture. You can leave it in their room.”

She studied him silently, again surprising him. Flynn wondered where all her fiery words had gone. Especially when she only nodded.

He considered an apology, but the place inside him that held those words had been dammed up long ago. “Do you need any help?”

She seemed to consider this, too. Then she gestured toward the fridge. “You could put the salad together.”

“Sprouts included?”

But her usual ready laughter didn’t surface. “Whatever you’d like to put in it. The vegetable drawer is pretty full.”

They worked in silence for a while. Flynn wasn’t certain how to break the strain, how to bring the sparkle and laughter back to Cindy’s face.

She glanced up at the clock. “Yipes, I still have to shower and change my clothes before everyone gets here.”

“I can finish in here,” he offered, surprising himself as much as Cindy.

“Well, I did want to tidy up—”

“I can take care of it,” he insisted.