Wanted--The Perfect Mom

by T. R. McClure

  Holly shook her head. “I just finished a protein bar.”

  Rose sighed. “Protein bars aren’t natural.”

  Holly ignored her mother’s comment. “Where is everybody?”

  “Thomas and the boys are taking a nap upstairs. Beth and the baby are on the porch.”

  Holly tiptoed through the quiet house, where she found the girls clustered around Beth, holding the baby on the swing. “Hi, everybody.”

  “Hi, Holly.” Beth motioned to a spot on the swing. “Can you squeeze in here?”

  Riley, her bright eyes fixed on the baby’s tiny fingers, sat next to the twins and closest to the bundle in Beth’s arms. “She’s so little.”

  Holly squeezed Beth’s shoulder, unable to speak for a moment. This niece she would know from birth. “She’s beautiful, Beth. What’s her name?”

  “Josephine Rose.” She set the swing rocking as the baby’s nose wrinkled and the tiny fingers resting on the cheek stretched and then relaxed.

  “That’s a big name for a little girl, but she’ll grow into it.” Easing onto the swing next to Rosalyn, Holly rested her hand on the baby’s blanket. She stroked the baby’s hand and marveled at the softness of the perfect skin. “I brought you something.” She handed the bag to Beth.

  “You shouldn’t have. This is our third baby, Holly.” Beth tossed her long braid over her shoulder.

  “But your first girl.”

  Peeking into the bag, Beth giggled. “I should have known.” She pulled out a stuffed horse. “I love it.”

  Holly tilted her head toward Riley and raised her brows. “Why...?”

  Riley was still occupied with the baby, and Carolyn lowered her voice. “Erma is on a bus trip and her dad, I don’t know, maybe working. She and the twins have been spending a lot of time together so I offered to have her spend the day with us.”

  “I don’t have a gift,” Riley said.

  Beth laughed and gave her a tight squeeze. “That’s okay, munchkin. We already have lots of baby things for Josephine.”

  Riley touched a finger to the baby’s cheek where Holly’s had been a moment before. “She’s soft.”

  Holly put her hands on her niece’s shoulders, torn between watching the baby sleep and visiting with the horses. “Are you ready for your first lesson, mademoiselle?”

  Jumping from the swing, Rosalyn reached for Holly’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Can I go?” Riley looked from Carolyn to Holly.

  “I don’t know...” Carolyn said.

  “Please.”

  “If you come with us, you have to listen when I tell you something. Okay?”

  Riley’s brows wrinkled for just a moment. “Okay.” She reached for her quilt.

  “Why don’t you leave that, Riley? The barn’s kind of dusty.”

  The little girl looked down at the delicately stitched material, as if unable to decide. Her eyes cleared. “Josephine can have my blanket.”

  Beth smiled. “We’ll keep it until you come back from the barn.”

  “No, this is my gift to the baby.”

  Holly and Carolyn stared at each other in shock. Holly ran a hand over Riley’s hair. “She’ll love it, especially because it’s from you.”

  Though she managed a smile, Riley’s lower lip trembled. Holly’s heart went out to the little girl. “Let’s go get Twister ready for our lesson.”

  Walking toward the barn, the two girls chattered about the upcoming lesson. Only after they had brushed and saddled Twister did Riley ask a question. “What should I do?”

  Holly turned and faced Riley. “Rosalyn can lead Twister to the paddock. You take my hand.” Her nieces and nephews had been around animals all their lives. Riley was another story. “You can sit on the bench and watch. Sometimes the best way to learn is by watching someone else. Okay?”

  Riley nodded and slipped her hand into Holly’s. If anyone had told her the day Riley was pulling books from the shelves that the girl would voluntarily hold her hand, Holly would have told them they were crazy. But here they were. She gave the little hand a squeeze and settled the girl on the bench before turning to her niece. “Are you ready, Rosalyn?”

  Rosalyn stared up at the saddle. “He won’t buck, will he?”

  “No, and I’ll be close by.” Twister must look like a giant, she thought, though for a quarter horse he was small. The ponies were even smaller.

  Rosalyn’s indecision showed on her face. “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Holly boosted the girl into the saddle and showed her how to hold the reins.

  As was often the case with children, Rosalyn’s initial caution dissipated minutes after she was on Twister’s back. Holly’s biggest problem soon became keeping Rosalyn and her mount at a walk. Whether it was her early exposure to riding, natural ability or just plain youth, Rosalyn quickly grasped the concepts involved in communicating with her horse.

  As their lessons progressed, the girl became more and more competent. Thomas fenced off the flattest part of the pasture to use as a riding ring. Every Wednesday evening and Sunday afternoon Holly and Rosalyn saddled Twister. Sometimes Riley was along. Sometimes she wasn’t. Holly thought it strange Riley was spending so much time with her brother’s family. Twice so far, after Rosalyn left, she had saddled the Welsh cob and ridden him in the paddock. Riding different horses was like driving different cars, and she enjoyed riding both horses.

  One Sunday afternoon in early August Holly stood in the middle of the ring while Rosalyn posted, easily moving her body off the saddle and back down in rhythm with the horse’s trot. The glare of the lowering sun shining directly in her eyes, Holly pulled down her ball cap. The farm was quiet, the rest of the family having gone to Sonny’s pool. Despite the temptation of a pool on a hot day, Riley had stayed. She had kept her promise to listen to Holly.

  “She looks great,” Mac said.

  Holly started, then let out a breath. “How long have you been standing there?” She strolled over, glancing at Rosalyn and Twister rounding the far corner. “Tighten up on the reins a little.”

  Rosalyn’s fingers twitched as she responded to Holly’s instruction.

  Holly propped an elbow on the top rail, keeping an eye on the girl and the horse. “We’re just about finished.”

  “Daddy.” Riley jumped up from the bench, ran to her father and slipped between the rails to wrap her arms around his leg.

  A faint smile on his face, Mac pulled his daughter’s ponytail. “I thought you were at the pool with Freddy. I stopped by and they said you were here. Aren’t you hot?”

  Riley turned from her father to watch the horse trotting along the fence. “A little, but I won’t ever learn to ride if I don’t watch.” Holly lifted her arm to catch Rosalyn’s attention. “Walk Twister over to the gate. I’ll be there in a minute.” Holly squeezed through the rails and came up beside Mac, who had frowned at Riley’s comment.

  “Daddy, can I ride Twister?” Riley climbed up on the second rail so she could look her father in the eyes.

  Mac dragged a hand over his face and tried to smile. “I don’t know...”

  Riley wore the same expression of wanting she’d had since Rosalyn’s first lesson. The me, too look.

  “Riley’s been here for almost all of Rosalyn’s lessons, Mac. What if I just lead her around?” She laid a hand on his arm. “Twister’s the safest horse she could be on.”

  “I just didn’t want her to...” With a sigh, he gave a short nod.

  Dismounting, Rosalyn held the reins as Holly and Riley walked over to the horse. Lifting the girl into the saddle, Holly adjusted the stirrups. “Ready, cowgirl?”

  Her answer was a dazzling smile. Holly winked at her niece, who climbed to the top rail of the fence.

  She started at
a slow walk, occasionally looking back to gauge Riley’s ability to move with the horse. She needn’t have worried. Riley looked like she’d been born riding Western, and Holly couldn’t help but smile. Dressed in a pink print long-sleeve shirt, blue jeans with daisies on the back pockets and a white riding helmet, she was the picture of happiness.

  After a while Holly was having so much fun she forgot Mac was even there. Riley’s laughter trailed after them as they walked and trotted around the ring. Finally, Holly propped her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, she threw Mac a triumphant smile. “Look at your daughter, McAndrews. She’s a natural.”

  Mac shook his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s just—”

  Holly tried to slow her breathing as she waited for the rest of his sentence. “It’s just what?”

  Mac stared across the ring. “She looks so much like her mother...” He brought his fist to his chest.

  Holly’s heart sank. She’d wanted to give father and daughter something to smile about, enjoy together, but she’d hurt him, forced him to once again remember he was a widower.

  “I think you’ve worn Holly out, Riley.” With his composure regained, Mac climbed through the fence and reached up to take the girl off the horse.

  “One more time, Daddy, please.”

  Mac shook his head. “Look at Holly, Riley. She’s not used to exercise anymore.” He sent a wink toward Holly and she couldn’t help but grin. “Tell Holly thank you.”

  Riley put her arms around Mac’s neck, her eyes on Twister. “Thank you, Holly. Bye, Twister.”

  “Do you want help putting him away?”

  Holly straightened. “No, Rosalyn will help. You two go on.”

  Father and daughter disappeared around a corner of the barn. Holly undid the cinch and set the saddle on the top rail to air. Underneath the blanket, patches of sweat had appeared. “That little girl gave us a workout, didn’t she, old fella?”

  High above, a red-tailed hawk screeched. Squinting into the sun, she spotted its pale belly as it soared overhead, on the hunt for an unsuspecting victim.

  As she led the horse around the ring the sweat dried on both of them, and Holly knew one thing: as sure as the leaves change in the fall, Riley would want to ride again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NEITHER SONNY NOR Carolyn was surprised when Rosalyn asked if she could enter the walk/trot class at the county fair. They agreed it would be good experience. Mac was another story. When Riley begged to go with her new friend, Mac resisted, until his mother informed him she had signed up for a three-day bus trip to New Orleans.

  Carolyn and Louise agreed to take turns watching the coffee shop during the week while Holly was at the fairgrounds. Holly borrowed Thomas’s horse trailer and she, Rosalyn and Riley took Twister to the fairgrounds Sunday. At the last minute Mac offered to come along.

  The oddly familiar scents of fried food, hay and farm animals lay over the ramshackle buildings used by the fair committee once a year. Holly could just make out the top of the Ferris wheel at the other end of the grounds, and memories of warm summer nights with family and friends, spending money on carnival rides and games of chance, swept through her mind. Dad, I’m out of money. Can I have some more? Louise wants to ride the swings again. And her father would roll his eyes at her mother as he pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

  “This stuff doesn’t faze him a bit, does it?” Carrying a bale of hay, Mac followed Rosalyn as she led Twister into the horse barns.

  Smiling at her memories, Holly looked around the barn, doubting she would see anybody from her youth but looking just the same. “This is old hat for this horse. I think he might be enjoying the attention.” Twister’s ears pricked as Rosalyn led him into the end stall of the outside aisle. She slipped off his halter and closed the stall door.

  “Holly Hoffman, is that you?”

  Holly turned as she heard her name and saw a familiar-looking red-haired woman heading her way. “Tiffany?”

  Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the woman nodded at Holly. “Don’t tell me, this is your horse. Twister, isn’t it?” She moved closer to the stall. “He looks great. Are you using him for your girls?” She smiled down at Riley, who leaned against Mac’s legs.

  Her cheeks burned at the understandable conclusion the woman had reached. “My niece Rosalyn is riding Twister. This is Riley. She’s Mac’s daughter and Mac is...a friend of the family.”

  “Oh.” The woman sized up Mac and stuck out her hand. “Tiffany Clark is my married name even though I’m recently divorced. You remember Rich. Well, the rat cheated on me so I kicked him out.” She looked over her shoulder at a redheaded girl standing in front of a stall halfway down the aisle. “That’s my daughter, Amy. She’s in the walk/trot class on Thursday.” She looked down at Rosalyn with a critical eye. “You, too?”

  Rosalyn grabbed Holly’s hand and nodded.

  “Yes, that’s the one she’s in,” Holly said.

  The woman put her hands on her hips and took another look at Twister. “Seems like we have a second generation competition going. I hope this old boy’s up to it. Good luck. And give me a call sometime.”

  When Tiffany had strolled back to her daughter, Holly said, “How do women do that?” She suddenly remembered why they’d never become close... Tiffany was a poor loser. She would be friendly and helpful at the beginning of the week and by the time the competitions were over, if Holly had won, which she usually did, Tiffany would ignore her.

  “Do what?” Mac asked, leaning against the stall.

  “Throw their husbands out. Her husband probably has a hundred pounds on her.” Her impish grin told Mac she was joking.

  “Why do you ask? Are you looking to throw someone out?” He bumped her shoulder with his.

  “Not at the moment.”

  “I’ve gotten involved in a few of those types of cases. Not fun, not fun at all.” Mac continued to watch Tiffany and her daughter as they decorated their stall. “She seems like a nice lady.”

  Holly frowned. “Are you kidding? She’s a—” Before the word left her mouth she noticed Riley staring at her. “Anyway, I think the ‘call me’ was for you, cowboy.”

  Mac grinned. “Yeah, probably. I have that effect on women.”

  Rosalyn tugged Holly’s hand. “Did you used to decorate Twister’s stall?”

  “I did,” Holly said, smiling. “In fact, I brought along Twister’s sign. My dad made it one year especially for fair week.” Holly slipped a long wooden sign out of a bag and hooked it to the front of the stall. Her father had smoothed and varnished the wood, and her mother had painted Twister’s name, as well as colorful miniature tornadoes. Holly caught Mac studying the sign, doubt on his face.

  “Twister’s barrel racing days are behind him, Mac. He’s perfectly happy trotting around the ring.”

  Mac ran a hand down his nose. “Will he be all right here?”

  Holly glanced at the gray horse in the next stall and read the sign with her name. “As long as Good Golly Miss Molly is next door he’ll be fine. Twister makes friends easily, especially with the ladies.” She kissed his nose. “Don’t ya, fella?”

  “You kiss your horse?”

  “Of course, Riley. He’s my best friend.”

  “Can I kiss him?” Leaning against the gate, Riley stood on her tiptoes.

  When Mac nodded, Holly held the girl up until she could reach the horse’s nose.

  Riley leaned forward and planted a kiss on the gelding’s white strip. “I did it!” She turned to Holly with a smile.

  “Now he’s your best buddy, too.” She ran a hand down the horse’s nose.

  * * *

  MONDAY EVENING HOLLY closed the store early since the town was practically deserted. Mac was working, so Holly picked u
p Riley and Rosalyn and drove to the fairgrounds, where they practiced in the ring while everyone else was at dinner. When the ring filled with other riders, they returned Twister to his stall and went in search of dinner.

  Holding Riley’s hand, Holly stood at the end of a long line of food booths. The sizzle and smell of hot sausage permeated the air, competing with the sweet smell of monkey bread. “What do you think, ladies? What shall we have for dinner?”

  Riley stared up at the signs in awe. She took a deep breath. “French fries?”

  “Just French fries?” A curly fry stand sat next to the monkey bread vendor. “I don’t know if that constitutes a dinner, honey.” Riley didn’t say anything. She just stared up at Holly. “French fries it is,” Holly said and was rewarded with the familiar gap-toothed smile.

  Tuesday evening Mac came along and they ended up at the Boy Scout booth eating meat loaf, mashed potatoes and green peas. Rosalyn, her sister and their mother went to see a popular boy band in the grandstand. Their raucous music could be heard all over the fairgrounds. Sitting at a picnic table, Holly nudged Riley in the side. “Don’t tell Daddy what we had for dinner last night,” she whispered.

  Riley giggled, her eyes sparkling as she stuck a chunk of meat loaf in her mouth.

  Sitting across from them, Mac narrowed his eyes. “All right, you two, what are you whispering about?”

  Holly waved a fork in the air. “Having a private conversation here—you just eat your meat loaf.”

  Mac shook his head. “You two are wearing me out. Are we doing this tomorrow, too?”

  “We don’t have to. The fair lasts Sunday through Saturday, but most people with animals come every day. I was thinking about giving Twister a bath tomorrow afternoon.”

  Riley’s gaze jerked from Holly to her father. “Can I help?”

  Mac shrugged. “It’s up to Holly whether—”

  “Sure, why not?” She elbowed Riley’s shoulder. “Just a heads-up. You might get a little wet. And dirty. And—”