The cowboy handyman twisted his head in her direction. “He’s a quick learner.”
Rainy beamed as if the compliment was for her. She saw the flush of pleasure on Will’s cheeks and decided she liked Nate Del Rio. “He is. Thanks.”
She bent to unwind Emma from the man’s neck. “This one is a charmer, but also a pest at times.” With a counselor and lots of prayers, they were working on Emma’s weak personal boundaries. “Come on, Emma. I need help with the babies.”
Emma came, but gazed longingly at the cowboy’s back. “He’s nice.”
Rainy stood in the doorway for a minute, watching and listening to Nate’s low voice explaining the great mysteries of washing machines to the two rapt boys. His patience with them solidified her conclusion that he had kids of his own.
She chided herself for being disappointed. She did not covet another woman’s husband. She simply wanted one of her own.
“Is there anything you need before I go on about my business?” she asked.
Without turning, he shook his head. “Got all the help I need right now. Thanks.”
She wasn’t sure how he meant that, but she let it go and headed back to the disaster area that had once been her home.
By the time she’d set things to right, fed both babies and put them down for a nap, Katie had thrown up again. Wearily, she cleaned up the mess, took the child’s temperature and debated calling the doctor. The last thing any of them needed was a virus spreading through the house.
Going to her bedroom to change the now disgusting sweat suit, she happened to glance in the mirror. The Wicked Witch of the West stared back.
Bags the size of carry-on luggage puffed beneath her eyes. Her hair shot out in every direction. She slapped at it. Had she combed it at all this morning?
With a growing sense of chagrin, she knew she hadn’t. She had shoved the shoulder-length mass into a scrunchie in the wee hours of the morning when the social worker arrived with the babies. After that she never made it back to bed because Katie had started throwing up. Then the washer had sprung a leak and she’d been too busy to care about how she looked.
Horrid. She looked horrid. Horror-movie horrid.
No wonder the kids were crying. She was tempted to do the same.
Quickly yanking away the scrunchie along with a few hairs, Rainy ran a brush over her head and put the ponytail up again. Better.
She leaned into the mirror and grimaced. Makeup. Fast.
She dabbed a little concealer under each eye, mostly to no avail, stroked some mascara on thick lashes and added a hint of pink lip gloss. She was no beauty, but she normally tried to accent her best features, thick lashes and a tilted, full mouth. Today she’d settle for not frightening small children.
“Miss Rainy!”
This would have to do. Without a backward glance, she rushed toward the sound of Katie’s voice.
The child lay on the couch where Rainy had left her, a pink Hello Kitty blanket up to her chin.
“What is it, punkin? Are you feeling sick again?”
“I want a Pop-Tart.”
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? How about something gentle on your tummy first and then the Pop-Tart later.”
A million russet freckles stood out on the sad, pale face. “Okay.”
Rainy entered the kitchen as Nate Del Rio and the boys entered from the opposite end. Nate glanced up at her, surprise registering in his eyes.
“You look—” He seemed to catch himself, for which she would be eternally grateful, and said instead, “We’re all finished. If you’ll hand us a mop, we’ll sop up some of the water for you.”
“Oh, goodness no. Don’t bother. I’ll do the sopping up. You’ve done enough.” She whipped toward the broom closet and took out a sponge mop. “Why don’t you have a seat and let me get you some cookies and milk.”
Those dimples of his activated. Killer dimples. Goodness.
“Cookies and milk? Sounds great. My breakfast wore off after the stop at Milly Jenkins’s.”
“Milly?” Rainy propped the mop against the wall, only to have it taken by Will, who disappeared into the laundry room with faithful Joshua by his side. “Doesn’t she play the organ at church?”
“Yep. Nice lady. Her old Mercury needed new spark plugs.”
Rainy took down two glasses and filled them with cold milk, then added milk to the ongoing grocery list posted on the fridge. “This ministry is a real blessing to people, Nate. I hope you men who volunteer realize that.”
“It’s a blessing to us, too,” he said simply, and she liked him for the sentiment. Nice guy. No wonder some smart woman had snapped him up like the last chocolate truffle.
With a plate of yesterday’s homemade double chocolate chip cookies in hand, she joined him at the round glass table. She still questioned her sanity for buying a glass dining table with so many children coming and going, but other than the persistent presence of small fingerprints, the glass had held up well so far.
Nate reached for a cookie, bit, chewed. “Wow. Powerful.”
“I hope that means good. I tend to be a little heavy-handed on the chocolate, especially during high-stress days.”
“With all these little ones underfoot, those are probably pretty frequent.” He sipped at his milk, managing not to create a milk mustache. “What is this anyway? A day care?”
Rainy broke an edge off a moist cookie and held it between thumb and finger. “I’m a foster mom.”
“They let singles do that?”
“The Department of Human Services is desperate for foster moms. So, yes. They do.”
“That explains it, then.”
She laughed. “Explains what? The total chaos?”
He had the grace to look guilty. “Well…”
“Today is unusual. You see, I normally take on only school-age children because I’m a teacher. I have to work. But last night, actually early this morning, I got an emergency call from the social worker about the two babies.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Most calls do come at night, unfortunately. Nighttime seems to be when families fall apart. Drugs, drinking, and in this case, those eighteen-month-old twins were found alone in a car outside a casino.”
She didn’t mention the ongoing problem faced by the beleaguered social worker. There were not enough foster homes to care for all the needy children. And Rainy had trouble saying no, regardless of how full her house might be.
“The babies were in the car? While their mother was in the casino?”
“Yes. She’d been there for hours.”
His horrified look matched her own reaction. “It’s still cold outside.”
March might be springtime, but at night the Oklahoma temperature tumbled to freezing.
“I know. Very cold, not to mention dangerous as all get out. Anyone could have stolen those children.” She popped the bite of cookie into her mouth and almost sighed at the rich, gooey chocolate flavor. “That’s why I agreed to take them until the social worker can find another placement, hopefully today.”
“Brutal.”
He could say that again. Foster care was not for the faint of heart. She’d heard some hair-raising tales and encountered far too many broken children, the exact reason she persevered. God had planted a mission inside her to make a difference in these forgotten kids’ lives. And with God’s help, she was succeeding, one child at a time.
“Another cookie?” She pushed the plate toward him. “Or will your wife be upset if you spoil your lunch with sweets?”
She hoped the question was as subtle as she wanted it to be.
As he chewed, Nate shook his head from side to side. “Nope. No problem there.”
Okay, so she wanted to know for sure. Still playing innocent, she asked, “She doesn’t mind?”
“She doesn’t exist.”
It took Rainy two beats to comprehend.
Nate Del Rio with the killer dimples was single.
Chapter Two
If there was one thing Rainy never wanted to be, it was a desperate, husband-hunting woman. So she refused to be happy that the handsome cowboy sitting across from her was unmarried. He was what he was. And so was she.
After she’d hung out her shingle to be a foster mother, with the intention of adopting as many kids as the Lord saw fit, she’d put aside her dreams of a husband. Mostly. If God dropped the right guy into her lap, she wouldn’t argue. She just wasn’t going out looking anymore.
“So how long have you attended Bible Fellowship?” Nate was asking.
“Since I moved here five years ago. It’s a great church, lots of outreach to the needy, which I think is paramount, plus I love the small-group Bible studies. And the kids’ ministry, of course.”
“Of course.” One side of his mouth quirked. “So you’re not from around here, then?”
“Tulsa.”
Both eyebrows joined the quirked lips. “City girl.”
“I am not!” She leaned back in her chair, saw he was teasing, and laughed. “Well, not entirely. I like the smaller town life. That’s why I took the job at Robert E. Lee.”
“Summervale isn’t too small anymore.”
“No, but a good mix of small town and big city, don’t you think?”
“Mostly. Traffic’s gotten snarly since they put in the mall.”
“Nothing like Tulsa at rush hour.”
He shuddered. “Spare me that. Three cars on a country road are enough for me. What grade you teach?”
“Second. Five years, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. Kids that age are a hoot—their wiggles, their gap-toothed smiles, their concrete, literal way of looking at the world.”
He glanced toward the living room, where the children had adjourned. Mercifully, the house had settled into a quieter rhythm with only a now lower rumble of Cartoon Network and an occasional shh or giggle from one of the foursome.
“You like kids.” His statement sounded a lot like an accusation.
“Crazy about them.” Feeling no need to justify what was as natural as breathing, Rainy took another sip of milk. “What do you do, besides rush to the rescue of stressed-out women and their washing machines?”
“Ranch.”
“Really? A real ranch, like with horses and cows?”
“You are a city girl.”
“Am not,” she said mildly. “So do you?”
“Have horses and cows? Sure. Mostly cattle since that’s how I make my living. Angus beef. But I keep a few horses for fun. I mostly use a Mule for the real work these days.”
Rainy leaned an elbow on the table, fascinated. She had no idea cowboys rode mules now instead of horses. The idea of lanky Nate on the back of a stubborn mule conjured up a funny mental picture, but she refused to laugh. The guy had gone above and beyond.
Besides, what she knew about ranches and cowboys would fit on a pencil eraser. But a ranch had animals. She knew that for certain, and animals were good for kids. She’d read any number of articles about their therapeutic value with people who were hurting. Like a tiny seedpod, an idea began to germinate.
She was always on the lookout for opportunities for the children, especially her boys. They needed far more than she could teach them. The only animal she had room or time for was Ralph, the fighting beta fish that only serious Will seemed the least bit interested in. But that was because Will worried about everything and everyone, considering himself the caretaker of the world.
A ranch meant lots of animals, lots of opportunities, maybe even healing of some of the hurts these children had experienced, and of equal importance, a male role model and a little recreation.
“Would you consider letting me bring the kids out to your ranch sometime?”
Nate blinked and the air around him stilled. “Why?”
What an odd question. “To see the animals, to see what you do on a ranch. Broaden their horizons. You know, the kind of experiences they won’t get here in this crowded subdivision.”
She loved her home and neighborhood with its family-oriented residents and tidy, colorful flowerbeds and walkways, but most of the yards were small, and houses butted up against each other on either side. A ranch meant room to spread out and run and be noisy.
Nate didn’t appear to be of the same train of thought. Reluctance hung on him like a wet shirt. He studied the rim of his milk glass, gnawed one corner of his lip and didn’t look at her. “A working ranch is no place for kids.”
Weak excuse. And she was a teacher. Did he think she’d let him get by with that?
“Then, how does one learn to be a rancher?”
The question seemed to agitate him. He leaned forward, forearms on the table’s edge, hazel eyes clouding toward mud-brown. “I grew up in the country. Farm animals were a part of the natural order of things.”
Having taken to heart Christ’s command to care for the needy and orphaned, Rainy was accustomed to pushing when it came to getting things for foster children. After all, she was on a mission for God. If God approved, she didn’t care in the least if people found her pushy. “Are you implying that only those who grow up in the country can be farmers or ranchers?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She smiled, feeling victory coming on. One more little push and he’d tumble like stacked dominos. “I’m so glad. I was positive a man thoughtful enough to join the Handyman Ministry would understand how much this could mean to at-risk town kids.”
So it was a cheap shot. Rainy had no remorse.
Nate leaned back in his chair, hands dropping into his lap as he stared at her with exasperation. “You don’t give up, do you?”
A tiny smile tickled Rainy’s lips. “Never. Not when it comes to my foster kids.”
This time, she was the one who leaned forward, pressing, determined as a terrier, her voice dropping low so the children didn’t hear. “You met my kids, Nate, but you have no idea what they’ve lived through. They’re survivors, but they carry scars. Will is too serious and considers the other children his responsibility. Joshua is my encourager, but he shivers and shakes at the first sign of conflict. Emma’s charm can be manipulative. And Katie, poor little Katie—” She choked, tears filling her throat. She had not intended to go this far.
The cowboy across from her raised both hands in surrender. “Okay. They can come.”
Rainy pressed back against the hard, wooden chair and drew in a deep, relaxing breath. Thoughts of what these children had suffered and witnessed always tore her apart.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get teary on you.”
“No big deal.”
But she could see it was. Her handyman was ready to cut and run like a wild horse. Better grab the opportunity while it was knocking. Besides, one trip to the ranch would be a nice start, but she really had something more in mind. “How about tomorrow after church?”
He flinched. “So soon?”
“The weather is supposed to be decent tomorrow. And the kids will go wild with excitement. I promise to keep a tight rein on them. They’re good kids.” When he lifted a doubtful brow, she rushed on, “Really. I promise. Great kids. What do you say?”
Before he could answer, Katie’s scream ripped through the air. Rainy pushed back from the table to see what was amiss this time.
“Great kids, huh?” Nate said without a bit of humor. “You could sell that scream to Hollywood.”
Rainy chuckled anyway. “I know. Pure, high and bloodcurdling. And most of the time, she’s screaming about nothing.” The scream, however, was Katie’s way to communicate. “Katie has some issues we’re working through, but today the scream might indicate another episode of throwing up. I’ll have to check.”
Nate got that helpless, eager-to-escape expression again. Well, who could blame the poor guy? No one—not even Rainy—liked dealing with a stomach virus.
As she pushed out of the chair, Will came into the kitchen. “Katie’s all right. She’s mad because I gave one of the babies a stuffed animal.”
“No throw up?” she asked.
“No.” The boy’s serious eyes glanced at the cookies.
“Want one?” Nate offered the plate and then thought to ask Rainy, “Is it okay if he has one? He helped me out back there with the hose. Good worker.”