“DO YOU SEE IT YET, Dylan?”
Tara glanced up anxiously into the sprawling tree where Dylan was searching.
“Not yet.” The child caught the branch above his head and used it to make his way to the other side of the trunk.
Tara checked the cache finder again. The treasure had to be up in the tree. “I’ll give you a couple more minutes, then we’ll have to give up on this one.” Her eyes darted around the park. No security guard in sight.
“I don’t want to give—wait! I see something!” Dylan swung his arm over a branch and ducked under it. “There’s a hole! And it’s got something in it!”
The giddy excitement in his voice was infectious. Tara held her breath as he slid his hand in to retrieve what he’d found.
“Got it!” He held up a small plastic container in triumph.
“Drop it to me, so you have both hands to climb down.” Tara held her arms out, and her partner did as he was instructed.
Following the tradition to keep geocaches secret, they strolled leisurely with the treasure to the closest bench and pretended they were merely opening a mundane plastic box.
Dylan’s bottom lip drooped in disappointment when he ripped the lid off and peered inside. “There aren’t many items. Not like the one we found yesterday.”
Tara gave him a pat. “Yeah, but that makes this one even better.”
“Why?” He gave her one of those skeptical looks kids save for when they know adults aren’t being completely truthful.
She flipped open the log. “This cache was hidden on March 3, 2011, and it’s only been found...” She counted the entries. “Nine times. That means it’s a really difficult cache to locate, and you found it!”
The grin that broke across his face was a duplicate of his dad’s, making Tara’s breath hitch. “Wow! That means we’re good at this, aren’t we?”
“We’re better than good. We’re freakin’ awesome!” She held up her hand, but then thought better of allowing him to hit the one that had been injured. She switched to the other. “I want an official high-five for that. A high-three just won’t do.”
Dylan giggled and slapped his palm against hers. Then he dug in their Crown Royal pouch, which had been donated to the cause by Garrett, pulling out one of the special tokens he and Tara had made that morning, and traded it for a gold medallion with a fleur-de-lis embossed on it.
Then he shimmied up the tree and placed the cache back in the hole where he’d found it.
Tara was absorbed in watching Dylan and didn’t hear the police officer approach. When the man spoke, she wheeled around to find him giving her a look that was none too friendly.
He shook a finger at Dylan, then at her, his voice stern and unyielding. She couldn’t understand a word he said.
“I’m sorry.” She had no idea how much a tree-climbing fine might run, but she didn’t want to find out. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Dylan was making his way back down. “I un—”
“Be quiet, Dylan.” She shot a silencing look his way.
The policeman’s facial features lost their hard edge. “Madame.” He spoke slowly and precisely. “To climb trees is not allowed. We warn of the danger.” He pointed at the sign in front of their tree.
Tara willed her face to flush, and she touched her hand to the base of her throat for added drama. “Oh, I’m so sorry. My French isn’t very good, so I didn’t realize that’s what it said. I should’ve checked my phrase book.”
Dylan dropped from the bottom branch to land beside her. “But you said you wouldn’t need that book as long as I—”
She pulled him to her, clamping her hand lightly over his mouth. “Shh, Dylan. Don’t interrupt the adults.” Then she turned her attention back to the police officer, smiling sweetly while thickening her Southern accent. “The visitor’s guide said that the Luxembourg Gardens were a wonderful place to bring children.” She played the sympathy move by wiping her face with her injured hand.
Just as she’d hoped, the policeman grimaced at the sight, caught himself and then gave her an overly cheery grin. “It is of no great importance, madame. Your son is safe.”
Dylan nudged her leg at the policeman’s error.
She ruffled his hair with her good hand and placed her other index finger to her lips. “Shh. Let the nice man finish what he’s saying.”
The policeman leaned toward Dylan and wagged his finger. “You may not climb these trees. And when you climb the trees at your home, you must always be very careful. Do you understand?”
Dylan nodded. “Yes, but I don’t have any trees at my house.”
“That is unfortunate.” The man’s chin buckled in a look of sympathy. “Perhaps someday you will.” He turned his attention back to Tara. “Au revoir, madame. I hope you will enjoy your stay in Paris.”
“You’re very kind. Thank you.” Tara gave a small wave as she guided Dylan toward the walkway.
“You sort of told that policeman some fibs.” Dylan threw an accusing frown her way.
“Yes, I did,” she admitted.
One corner of Dylan’s mouth curved into a half smile that was identical to, and just as charming as, his father’s. “You let him think we didn’t know what that sign said.”
“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I didn’t want him to fine me—fine means paying money as a punishment for breaking a law.”
“I know what it means. It makes Dad mad when people park on the sidewalk. He says he’s glad they got a fine.”
She chuckled at the child’s honesty.
“You let him think I was your son, too.”
His half smile burst into a full-blown grin that Tara answered with her own. “I didn’t think that one would hurt anyone. It wasn’t something he could fine me for. I mean, you’d look pretty weird with one of those yellow tickets stuck to your head.”
His childish giggle filled her ears and warmed her heart at the same time.
“I wish you were my mom.” He took her hand. “You’re fun.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs, but she managed a choked “Thanks, Dylan. You’re fun, too.”
Backed by the swiftness of a six-year-old’s attention span, his face lost its smile. “Yesterday, Dad said you were trying to find your father. How’d you lose him?”
Oh, wow! This one was going to require the most finely honed of her teacher talents. “Well, your dad has told me that you lost your mother when you were three. That kind of lost means—”
“That she died, and now she’s up in heaven.”
“That’s right. But I didn’t lose my father that way. I think he lives here in Paris.” Dylan’s knitting brows said the explanation wasn’t enough. “He moved away before I was born.” She tried again. “So we’ve never gotten to meet. But I came to Paris to look for him.”
“Do you have a mom?”
“Yes, I have a mom and a dad.” She anticipated his next question. “A man named Sawyer married my mom. He loves me very much, and he’s my dad just like your dad.”
“Did they have sleepovers?”
Tara swallowed her startled gasp. If she’d learned anything from teaching, it was that sometimes a kid’s wording could be wonky. “What do you mean?”
“My friend Michelle has a new dad. He used to eat with them a lot. And then he and her mom started having sleepovers, and they got married. Now she’s going to get a new baby sister.”
“Sometimes it happens that way,” Tara agreed.
Dylan pinned her with that wide-eyed look that was so easy to read, and she braced for what was coming.
“You want to have a sleepover at our house tonight?”
“Thank you for asking, but that’s probably not a good idea.” She could read the disappointment in the child’s dangling lower li
p.
“Well, if you wanted to have sleepovers, that would be okay. Maybe you and my dad could get married and you could be my mom.”
His suggestion was so innocent...and so earnest...it filled her heart to the point of breaking. “Let’s sit a minute, okay?” She sat down on a nearby bench and pulled him into her lap. “You planted seeds with Veronique yesterday, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Veronique said they would grow into a salad.”
“Well, see all these trees and flowers?” She motioned to the artfully landscaped area around them, and his eyes followed her gesture. “Each of these plants started from a seed, and each of them grew into something special. Now, I like you and your dad very much, and that’s like planting a seed of friendship. Sometimes friendship grows like a flower. It’s very beautiful, but it stays small. And sometimes friendship grows into something much bigger and stronger like a tree. That’s the kind of friendship that becomes love. The thing is, both kinds of friendships, whether they’re the like kind or the love kind, both need time to grow.”
She paused, but for once the little boy didn’t have any questions. “So, like I said, you and your dad and I have planted the seed—” She drew his attention to a green sprout just popping from the ground. “But we don’t know yet what it’s going to grow into. We’ll just have to wait and see.” She pressed on, determined to keep her message upbeat. “I’ll have to go back to my real home soon, but even after I leave Paris, our seed is going to continue to grow into something.”
“You could stay with us.”
“If I did, my mom and dad would really miss me, just like I’m going to miss you and your dad when I leave. But he and I have already decided that we’ll talk on the phone a lot—talking is sort of like sunshine to a seed—and you’re going to call me whenever you feel like it—like you do with your grandmas and grandpas. And after a few months, let’s say like after Christmas, if it looks like we’re going to grow into a tree, we’ll make plans for me to come back for another visit...or for you to come visit me. Deal?”
He smiled and nodded. “Deal.”
With no forewarning, he threw his arms around her neck. He was soft and warm, and the summer sweetness of the tree he’d climbed earlier still clung to him.
Just as suddenly, the tears that had been hovering close to the surface since the start of this conversation burst from Tara’s eyes like a spring shower.
Dylan loosened his hold and sat back, gaping at her. “Are you crying?”
Tara sniffed. “We can’t expect our seed to grow with just sunshine, can we?”
He shook his head.
She swiped at the tears, and flung the excess water from her fingers. “Then I’ll water it, too.”
He grinned and she pulled him into another quick hug. Her words had been playful and light—the exact opposite of the weight she carried in her heart.
Garrett’s worst fear had come true. Dylan had imprinted onto her like a newly hatched duckling. Problem was, she felt the same way about him and his dad.
Oh, she talked a good game. Give the seeds time to grow and all that. But when the time came for her to leave and these hugs were the goodbye kind, how would she ever be able to let go?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FAITH PUSHED THE BOX OUT of the way with her calf and pulled out the last one from the depths of the hall closet. She’d set a goal to work through a closet each day, throwing away what was of no use or sentimental value, boxing up the items the family might want to keep, and filling trash bags with things that could be donated to charity.
The job occupied a good part of her brain but didn’t require too much concentration, and left plenty of room for wandering thoughts. The call to Murray State had proven futile this morning. The offices were closed until Wednesday due to the July Fourth holiday weekend. And the call to Sawyer had been just as futile.
He’d expressed no interest in helping sort through things when she’d let him know what she was up to. His voice sounded dull and listless, and she suspected he’d had another sleepless night. He’d told her to do whatever she saw fit with his mom’s stuff. He trusted her to make the right decision. There had been no emotion in his tone.
What else could she expect? He’d been through the wringer yesterday, by all accounts—all seventeen accounts if she included both visitors and phone calls. She’d suggested that he take the boat out for a day of fishing and relaxation today, but he hadn’t taken the bait.
Her heart fell at the sound of a knock on the front door. She stood motionless. Maybe if she didn’t move, whoever it was would think she was out and would go away. She was tired of visitors and tired of talking.
Another knock, more persistent this time.
Snatching a washcloth from a box of linens, she wiped her sweaty face and headed to greet the unwelcome guest.
Ollie Perkins stood on the front porch, clutching his violin case in one hand and his red bandanna in the other.
“Hi, Ollie.” Faith edged the screen door open slowly, giving him time to move out of its arching path.
“Morning, Faith.” He raised the case in explanation of his visit. “Thought maybe your soul might be hankering for a little music to soothe it.”
Faith choked at his words. When Lacy had lain too sick to get out of the bed, she would ask for Ollie to come soothe her soul with his music. He always obliged.
“Come in. My soul needs soothing for sure.” She held the door wide. Once inside, Ollie stopped and glanced around the living room slowly, as if he were taking inventory of the furnishings.
“Wanted to make sure you hadn’t moved anything.” He grinned. “I’d hate to bang into one of Lacy’s beloved lamps.”
Faith reached to take his arm, but he moved toward a chair with a meaningful shuffle, so she let him do it on his own.
“How’s your mom this morning, Ollie?”
“Fair to middlin’.” He made short work of settling his case on the floor at his feet, and getting it open. “Tara doing okay over yonder in Paris?”
Faith nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her. “She’s enjoying herself. I talked to her last night.” Heat crept into her face as she remembered the impulsive call she’d made and the conversation that had precipitated it. At least Ollie couldn’t see her embarrassment.
“What d’ya need this morning? Hymns? Jigs? Reels? Any particular requests?”
Faith sat on the arm of the recliner. “I’m not sure what I need, Ollie. Just something pretty.”
“How ’bout this?” The haunting melody of “Theme from A Summer Place” glided from his strings, and Faith slid from the arm of the chair onto the seat. The tune had been one of her mom’s favorites.
She closed her eyes, letting the beautiful strains carry away some of the tension. As the last note died, she took a deep breath, and felt it plunge to a space long neglected at the bottom of her lungs.
“That was beautiful.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize you played that kind of music.”
“I don’t play it nearly often enough. Here’s another.”
Faith smiled as “Moon River” filled her ears. She could almost feel herself being pulled along by the current, peaceful and calm, not caring what lay “waiting ’round the bend.”
On and on, Ollie played. One song after another with barely a pause in-between. Mostly romantic songs from movies, his choices revealed a side of him she’d never known.
An amiable silence fell between them, as if words were unnecessary and inadequate. Once, her phone rang and he’d stopped to let her answer. But the caller ID identified that it was Nell Bradley from the Ladies’ Prayer Group. She let it go to voice mail.
“This one’s my favorite. It’s called ‘Today.’ A folk group called The New Christy Minstrels made it popular back in the ’60s. The words are really pretty.�
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“Can you sing it?” Faith had never heard the old man sing, even at church, but there was such openness about him at the moment, he might be persuaded.
Her question drug a laugh from his belly. “My screeching would not be soothing to your soul. Look the words up sometime, though. You’ll appreciate them.”
The song, like all the others, was beautiful, and Faith was sorry when it ended...and intrigued. “What makes that one your favorite?”
Her visitor leaned over and put his violin back to rest in its case before he answered her. He also mopped his face, and wiped his eyes, which had grown misty.
“I was in love once. That was our song.”
Faith had never thought about Ollie in that way...as someone who would fall in love. He’d been devoted to his mom, had lived with her his entire life in the house he grew up in until she went to the nursing home. That another woman had ever been in his life seemed impossible. Who could it have been?
“I never knew that, Ollie.”
“No one did.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and somehow pinned her with his dead-on gaze. “He was married.”
His words sent a shockwave through Faith’s system. Her fingers reflexively tightened on the chair arms.
“Yes, sweet Faith, you heard me right. Have I shocked you?” His voice was quiet and smooth, holding no hint that he was asking for sympathy...or anything from her, for that matter.
“Yes,” she answered. “I had no idea...”
“No one ever has, that I know of.” He paused, but his rheumy gaze didn’t waver. “You see, Faith, everybody’s got something. There’s not a person in Taylor’s Grove hadn’t been through an ordeal. That’s what life is. How you come through it’s the key.” He leaned back, seeming more comfortable now with the conversation he’d dropped her into. “Loving is never wrong.”
“But I didn’t love him, Ollie. He was a one-night stand, and I haven’t seen him since.” Her mouth was moving, telling this old man her story, and she wasn’t sure why. But it felt cathartic, and she didn’t want to stop. “Tara was the result. That’s why she’s gone to Paris. To find him.”
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