Riley and His Girls (Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish) (Mills & Boon Cherish)

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “I am?” Amy scanned the room to orient herself and give her brain time to catch up with her body.

  “Daddy says he’s not helpless anymore,” Cindy pronounced. “He says he’s all better now.”

  “He does, does he?” Amy looked Riley up and down. He looked delicious in those jeans and that plaid flannel shirt. It was the bare feet that made her pulse leap. Especially the one with the purple dinosaur bandage.

  He had removed most of the bandages on his face so he could shave, but he’d left the two on his forehead. He was being a good sport, not wanting to make the girls think their care and attention hadn’t been needed.

  What a man, she thought dreamily.

  “Oatmeal is on the table,” he announced.

  During breakfast Riley told Amy he was staying home with the girls that day, since they were out of school for the rest of the week for Christmas vacation.

  “I assume you want the office open,” she said.

  “I don’t see why,” he said. “Just put a message on the answering machine saying we’re closed until January second, but if there’s an emergency they can reach me at home, and put my number on there.”

  She smiled. “The joys of owning your own business in a small town.”

  After breakfast Amy gathered her coat and bag to go home. Riley walked her toward the door and made no effort to hide from the girls when he pulled her beneath the mistletoe and kissed her socks off.

  “Well,” she managed when he let her up for air. “I guess you are feeling better.”

  “Much, thanks to you.” He kissed her again, this time with enough tenderness to make her heart hope.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rest of the week until Christmas passed in a blur. Amy spent much of it with Riley and his girls.

  There were errands to run. There was more shopping to do, both in town and beyond. There were videos to rent and watch and a movie to see in Waco. There were friends and neighbors to meet.

  Amy wondered what those friends and neighbors thought of Riley showing up with her, but they were all friendly. They were especially nice when Riley told them that she had served with Brenda. That served as a good, acceptable reason for them to be together without too much overt speculation.

  They were seldom alone, she and Riley. There was little time for it with the girls always around. But Amy didn’t mind. There was always time for a few heated kisses when they weren’t looking, or after their bedtime if Amy drove herself home.

  She had her own last-minute Christmas things to take care of, too. Things she could not do around Riley or his girls. But with a few phone calls, a quick trip here and there, they were quickly done and now waited only for the arrival of the big day.

  Finally it was Christmas Eve. When it came time to put out the cookies and milk for Santa—and a handful of alfalfa pellets for the reindeer—Riley made certain that Amy shared in the ritual. Every minute, she fell deeper and harder for this man.

  She had agreed to help Riley put together the toys and things that would come from Santa. He had warned her it could take all night, and it did. Bicycles, a doll house, a new computer and everything else three young girls could want.

  Amy brought in the three wrapped boxes she had put together for Brenda and placed them against the wall, in the back of all the other presents. She didn’t want the girls tearing into them, then moving on to the next toy or game. She wanted them to focus on what their mother had chosen for them. She knew it was a lot to ask of three young children on Christmas morning, but Riley thought that they would be tired enough after opening everything else that they wouldn’t have any trouble sitting still for a few minutes.

  And so it went. She and Riley barely got everything situated before the bedroom door flew open and three shrieking little girls came racing down the hall toward the tree.

  At the last second, she watched Riley turn his back and block the view of the snack they’d left out for their North Pole visitors. When he turned back around, the milk was gone, and only a few crumbs remained of the cookies. She didn’t want to know what had become of the alfalfa pellets.

  The girls never noticed a thing. They were too busy finding and tearing into all their presents. Watching them was both magical and exhausting.

  It didn’t take long before almost all the packages were opened. Riley had his share, too, from the girls. Marva had obviously helped them pick out the socks, shirt and tie. Then there were the homemade gifts of glittered hand prints, macaroni-covered pop bottles, finger paintings and the like. Amy could tell by the love in his eyes that he treasured each gift and its giver.

  There were gifts for Amy, too, much to her surprise. She got her very own finger painting and macaroni bottle, plus a set of hand prints highlighted in silver glitter, and from Riley, a beautiful silk scarf in swirls of bold colors.

  “Thank you,” Amy said with feeling. “All of you. I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Pammy said.

  “Yes,” Riley added. “Merry Christmas.” And right there in front of the girls, with the mistletoe clear across the room, he leaned over and kissed her. On the mouth.

  The girls giggled.

  Then it was time. Riley brought the three large boxes from against the wall.

  “What’s this?” he asked, finding a large wrapped rectangle behind the boxes.

  “That’s yours,” Amy said.

  “From you? Wow.”

  “Partly from me, partly from Brenda.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. You can save it for after the girls open theirs.”

  That was all the permission the girls needed. They tore into their boxes. Each one pulled out the backpack featuring their favorite cartoon character.

  “First,” Amy said, “you’ll each find a letter from your mother. It’s the same letter in each of your packs, so, Riley, why don’t you read it to them?”

  “No.” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “This is your gig. You read it.”

  “All right. It says, ‘My Darling Daughters: I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you for Christmas, but it is beyond my control. Know that I love you and am thinking of you, and wishing I was there. I’ve put together a few items for you as my Christmas present. First is one videotape for you to share. I put it in Pammy’s package. It shows you where I live here, my barracks, that sort of thing. Then there’s a different videotape in each of your packs. On each one, I am reading one of your favorite stories. So now I can read to you any time you want.’”

  The girls cried out and dug into their packs, pulling out their videotapes.

  “‘I’ve also written separate letters that are private, one for each of you. Cindy, Jasmine, your daddy can help you read yours. Then you’ll each find a small plastic bag with some items inside. These, too, are from me to you: there’s a pencil to remind you to do your homework, a lipstick kiss from me to you on a piece of pink paper, a dollar bill, in case your allowance runs out, an eraser, because mistakes are okay, as long as you correct them and a bandage that I’ve already kissed, in case you get a boo-boo. And there you have it, a few things to remember me by. I love you so much. Merry Christmas, sweethearts.’”

  The girls were holding their plastic bags and reciting what each item was for.

  “Wow,” Riley said. “She put some thought into these things, didn’t she?”

  “A lot of thought. You can open yours now,” Amy suggested.

  “I’m almost afraid to.”

  Amy put her hand over his and squeezed. “I understand. But open it anyway.”

  “Open yours, Daddy,” Pammy said.

  “Yeah,” the other girls chimed in.

  Knowing he was probably going to lose it any minute and scare his girls to death by breaking down and crying, Riley took a deep breath, hoping it might steady his emotions. It didn’t seem to help, so he pulled the paper off his present. He held it up, and sucked in a sharp breath.

  He was going to need that bre
ath, because he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to breathe again.

  “How…? When…?”

  “Brenda had the photo with her. She knew she wanted to do something, but all she could think of was to blow it up. I ran across a guy on the Internet who does oil paintings from photos. I thought she would like that.”

  “What is it, Daddy?” Jasmine asked.

  He couldn’t move.

  “It’s us,” Pammy cried. “Mama and us girls in the backyard.”

  It had always been one of Riley’s favorite pictures of Brenda and the girls. In fact he had a copy of it right now in his wallet. Brenda, sitting in the grass, with Pammy and Jasmine on either side and Cindy in her lap. He had taken the picture himself just before Brenda shipped out, nearly two years ago.

  The artist had enlarged it and copied it in oil. It was perhaps the most beautiful portrait he’d ever seen. His vision blurred.

  “Lemme see, Daddy, lemme see,” Cindy cried.

  When he finally looked up at Amy, he didn’t know what to say.

  She leaned toward him and kissed each of his eyelids, then his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Riley.”

  Amy was gratified by the pleasure the girls and Riley got from the gifts she’d brought them from Brenda. Riley hung the painting in the den—Brenda’s great room—where they could see it every day.

  “Will you mind seeing her up there every time you come over?” he asked her.

  The girls had approved the hanging and were now getting dressed to go to Nana’s for Christmas dinner.

  Amy smiled at him. “Riley, I see her every time I look at you or any one of your daughters. She’s been the biggest, and dare I say, best part of your life for all of your life, and she was my best friend. I can never mind or resent or dislike anything about her. Which reminds me—I have one more thing. Wait just a minute.”

  While she dug in her bag for the small box hidden there, she called the girls back to the den. Alerted by the excitement in her voice, they raced from their room to see what was happening. They were already dressed for Nana’s, except for their shoes.

  “I don’t know how I could have forgotten,” Amy said when they were all gathered in the den. “The finishing touch.” She opened the box and presented them with Brenda’s green ceramic mama frog that belonged with the collection on the bookshelf. “Your mother’s frog is home.”

  “Oh, wow,” Pammy said.

  “That’s cool,” Jasmine said.

  “Yeah, cool,” Cindy added.

  None of the girls seemed overly impressed. They all smiled and carefully stroked the green frog, then they dashed back to their room for their shoes.

  That fast, Amy and Riley were alone again.

  He took her shoulders in his hands. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

  Amy froze. If it was possible to freeze while heat suffused her skin. “No.” She swallowed. Her hands shook. Her knees turned watery. “I don’t believe you have.”

  “Well don’t let it scare you away,” he said softly. “Just know it’s there when you want it.”

  “We’re ready, Daddy. Is Amy going with us?”

  “Oh, I—”

  Riley cut her off. “Of course she is.”

  Ah ha, she thought, eager for something, anything else to focus on other than the bombshell he’d just dropped on her. Christmas at the in-laws. And they weren’t even her in-laws.

  But they welcomed her cordially, and no wonder. She was just one more among the horde that descended on the Green household that day. Both of their sons, plus wives and children, had come for the day from where they were stationed in San Antonio.

  Halfway through dinner, when she thought she could reasonably gain the attention of all of the adults, Amy cleared her throat and tapped her knife against her glass.

  “May I have your attention, please?” As soon as everyone stopped talking, she spoke. “I have a gift to present to all of you, but it has to be done tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What are you talking about?” Riley asked.

  “I’d like all of you to meet me in Tribute Park at two o’clock tomorrow. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “What have you done?” Riley asked her.

  She smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Of course, given the location and her secrecy, there wasn’t much doubt as to what her surprise was.

  “You’ve done something on the Tribute Wall,” Frank said. “But that doesn’t make sense. Brenda’s already on the War Memorial.”

  “That doesn’t mean she couldn’t be on the Tribute Wall,” Marva said. “Does it?”

  It didn’t, as they all found out the next day.

  A small crowd gathered. The entire Green family, Riley and his girls, several dozen townspeople and some uniformed soldiers that no one but Amy seemed to know.

  The mayor did the honors, calling everyone to attention near the tarp that covered the new section of granite, then quickly turned the mike over to Amy.

  “Thank you all for coming here today. A new name has been added to the Tribute Wall to honor a local person who has gone above and beyond the call of duty and made the ultimate sacrifice so that others might live. I’m speaking of Brenda Green Sinclair, Sergeant, U.S. Army National Guard.”

  Amy told the story of Brenda’s deeds that day in Iraq, of the lives she saved, of the way she died.

  “Her selfless act of courage saved the lives of four of her fellow soldiers, myself included. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a tribute to Brenda Sinclair.”

  At her nod, the tarp was pulled away to reveal the newly etched granite panel. It listed Brenda’s name, rank, the dates of her birth and death, location of her death, and the names of the people she saved.

  “Joining me today to pay tribute to Sergeant Sinclair are Corporals Johnson and Cohen and Private First Class Don Meeker, none of whom would be alive today if not for Brenda. And also here today is Captain Enrique Lopez, who has a special presentation to make to Brenda’s husband.”

  Riley stood, stunned, as he was presented with a Bronze Star in Brenda’s name, in recognition of her act of bravery.

  Then everyone was congratulating him and the Greens and slapping each other on the back. He shook hands with the soldiers, the townspeople, probably a stranger or two. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened during those next several minutes, he was so stunned.

  “You did all this,” he finally managed to say to Amy.

  Amy swallowed. It was now or never. While Marva and Frank and their sons, along with Brenda’s daughters, all looked on.

  “I did, yes,” she said clearly. “I did it to honor Brenda. I never want to take her place. I couldn’t if I tried. Instead, I want my own place in your life and in the lives of your daughters, because I love you, all of you, very much. I would be honored to be the one to see that your daughters never forget their mother. If you’ll have me, Riley, I would very much like to be the new wife and mother of the Sinclair family. Will you marry me?”

  Riley’s grin came slowly and spread wide. “What do you say, girls? Should we marry her?”

  “Yes!”

  “Yeah!”

  “Yea!”

  “All right, then,” he said, his eyes never leaving Amy’s. “It’s unanimous. We accept.”

  A loud cheer went up throughout the crowd.

  ISBN: 978 1 472 09039 3

  RILEY AND HIS GIRLS

  © 2006 Janis Reams Hudson

  Published in Great Britain 2006

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations,
events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  ® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ®are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  www.millsandboon.co.uk