Blessings

Control. Sure, steady, unblinking control. That would get him through.

“Uh, Dad? I think you better come down here. Like—now.”

Joshua groaned. What had they done this time?

He took the steps three at a time, ignoring the puddle of clothes left at the bottom.

“Rachel? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen.”

He burst into the room, expecting flames. What he saw made him just as nervous. Nicole Brandt stood inside the door, a white ceramic dish balanced in her hands. Her ash-blond hair fell in a shining curtain around her shoulders. She wore a navy dress with perfectly tailored lapels and a trim white belt. The merest little wisp of a blue hat sat on top of her head. It looked ridiculous.

She looked gorgeous.

Apparently his daughters thought so, too. They stood in rapt attention, mouths gaping. To her credit, the beautiful doctor didn’t bat an eyelash at the unwanted attention.

“Good morning, Dr. Darling. Miss Winifred asked me to deliver this. She said that if you put it in the oven now, at three hundred degrees, it will be ready to eat when church is over.” She held out the dish.

“Oh. That’s very kind of her. Thank you.” Joshua stuffed the dish into the oven and set the temperature. “But why didn’t you use the front door? Surely it’s closer?”

A funny looked washed over her model-perfect features. Chagrin, maybe? No, sheepishness, that was it. She licked her lips, fiddled with the white leather strap over her shoulder, then peeped up at him through her lashes.

“I would have,” she murmured. “But there’s an elephant on your step.”

Ruth Ann burst into delighted giggles, Rachel chuckled and even Rosalyn grinned.

“There’s no elephant!” He forced himself not to smile.

“Well, it’s not exactly an elephant.” She temporized. “But it’s huge and gray and has slobber dribbling all over its face.” Her disgust was obvious.

“Ladybug!” The girls turned and raced to the front door.

Joshua beat them to it.

“No way,” he said firmly, locking the door and setting the chain for good measure. “I do not want that animal traipsing through this house. Mrs. Tyndall can’t keep up with the cleaning as it is.”

“But— Dad!”

“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow at Rachel and saw her wilt.

“Nothing.” One by one the children drifted away to continue their preparations for church, leaving him alone with her.

“So now you can understand why I thought it best to use the back entrance.” Nicole Brandt flicked her eyes up to stare into his. “I hope that’s not a problem? Your dog is, er, rather large.”

He knew she wanted to add something to that. Probably a remark about the beast’s filth. He hastened to correct her.

“Of course I understand. And, no, it’s not a problem at all.” He glanced around, checking. What else? Oh, yes. The dog. “Ladybug does not belong to us, thank heavens. She simply visits frequently because my daughters insist on feeding her table scraps. I’ll phone her owners.”

He made the call quickly, stating his case in a cool, crisp tone. Why didn’t people leave animals that size on the farm? Or tie them up if they had to keep them in town?

“I’m sure they’ll pick her up soon.”

“I hope so.” She turned to peer out a side window. “It’s enormous. Why would anyone call it Ladybug?”

“If you find the answer to that, I’d really like to know about it.” He walked back toward the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder as he went. “It’s a mystery to me. Have a seat if you’re staying.”

“Hmm.” She sat, long, slim legs crossed delicately.

“Will you button my dress up? Please?” Rosalyn held up her favorite fluffy blue dress.

Joshua stifled his groan. It was several sizes too small. He should have given it away ages ago, but Ruth Ann clung to that dress like a lifesaver.

“Not that one, honey,” he murmured, and lifted up a freshly pressed cotton one Mrs. Tyndall had ironed yesterday. “It’s too small, remember? Try this.”

“I like this one.” Her bottom lip jutted out in that stubborn thrust she used to get her own way.

Joshua prepared himself for battle. But before he could speak a word, she intervened.

“I’d love to help you, Rosalyn. You’re such a big girl, aren’t you? How old?” Nicole waited for the requisite number of fingers. “Four? And you still fit into this?” She pretended to squeeze it over the little girl’s head. “Oh, dear.”

“What’s the matter?” Ruthie balanced in the doorway like a stork, one shoe on her foot, the other clutched in her hand.

“Her head’s too big.”

Joshua almost smiled as Nicole pretended to twist the dress this way and that, her fingers pressing down on Rosie’s scalp.

“Way too big. It just won’t fit.” She glanced up at him suddenly, her eyes glowing. “I think we’ll have to operate, Dr. Darling.”

“Operate?” Rachel turned from her stance by the window to stare at Nicole. “On what?”

“On the dress, of course. How else can we get a too-big head into a too-small dress? We may have to operate on the arms, too. They look pretty tiny.” Once more she tried to draw him into the game. “Don’t you think so, Dr. Darling?”

“Hmm. Asking for a second opinion, Dr. Brandt?” He allowed his eyes to indicate his view of this silly game.

“Oh, I think so. Don’t you? When a case is as serious as this I always—” She stopped speaking abruptly.

Joshua forced himself to stop staring into her eyes and figure out what she was doing. He glanced down. Rosie had tossed the favorite dress onto a nearby chair and now began to struggle into the cotton one he’d presented.

“Don’t op’rate on my dress,” she demanded, glaring up at Nicole.

“We were just teasing, honey. It’s your dress, and I wouldn’t dream of damaging it.” Nicole swept a soothing hand across blond frizz that never quite lay down no matter how often Joshua combed it. “It’s a special dress, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. My mommy made it for me.”

“Really?” Nicole got up and rescued the tired blue fabric from the chair. “Then we must take very good care of it. One day you can help your little girl into it and tell her about how your mama made this specially.”

A lump came into Joshua’s throat as he watched her slim fingers smooth the fabric into neat folds until the dress was a small square.