The reminder of who restored my daughter’s smile sours my own mood. It’s the same question she’s been asking me since we first saw that mysterious redhead at Camp Cloverleaf two weeks ago. For whatever reason, my daughter sees something significant in that woman. Something worth idolizing. Meanwhile, I’m tangled in trouble and conflicted beyond measure.
“Afraid not,” I mumble.
“Did you look really hard?”
“She’s nowhere to be found.” My tone is brittle but soft.
“Doesn’t she miss us?”
“You can’t miss someone you don’t know,” I murmur quietly.
“That’s not true! I miss Mommy, but I never met her.”
“Should we look at her photo album? I can find some videos too.”
Ronnie visibly sags in front of me. “Not right now.”
Pain wheezes from my lungs in a strangled sound. My young child has the power to completely obliterate me. I slump against the ground, glancing at the sky for answers that aren’t there. It’s moments like this where I feel the loss of my wife as if she just passed yesterday. Nina died during childbirth. She hemorrhaged and the doctors couldn’t stop the bleeding. There was nothingthey could do except give me the miracle we created. I’ve been stumbling through parenthood alone ever since.
Words fail me, which is nothing new when it comes to this situation. Rather than try to piece together a pitiful explanation, I wrap my little girl in a fierce hug. Ronnie flings her arms around my neck, accepting the embrace. Maybe needing it, much like I do. We take deep breaths and hold each other close, and slowly, our combined pain loses its sharp edges, smoothing into a dull ache. We’ll get through this together.
After several moments, I gather the courage to pull away. I trace a line down the slope of Ronnie’s nose, ending with a tap to her chin. It’s our sign of love and comfort. She rolls her eyes, but then repeats the motion on me. That small move is like a glimmer of light flickering in the shadows, alerting me that not all is lost.
“You’re right,” I admit. “Your mother is a part of you. Way down deep. You’ll always carry her with you. This woman you saw just once is different, though. She doesn’t even know who we are, cupcake.”
My little girl grunts. “But she’s gonna be my new mommy.”
“Ronnie—”
“Nuh-uh, that’s a sad voice.” Her bottom lip pouts out. “That’s how Auntie Bee sounds. I don’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t like seeing you upset.” With my thumb and forefinger, I turn her frown upside down. “We’ve tried looking. I think it’s time to forget about her.”
“No!” My five-year-old stomps her little foot. “The superhero lady is special. Once she knows me, she’s gonna wanna be my mommy.”
I flinch at the determination in her tone. “We’ve talked about this. That woman is a stranger, cupcake. You can’t keep saying she’s going to be your mom.”
“Yes, I can.” The stubborn glint I’m becoming very familiar with gleams in her green eyes. “I feel it in here.” She points at the spot on her chest—right over her heart—where I’ve always told her our love comes from. “She’s gonna be our family. We just gotta find her.”
This type of innocent insistence is impossible to argue against. I’ll admit, I was struck by the lioness in leather at first too. That was before I found out who she works for. Ronnie isn’t so easily dissuaded. It’s almost laughable that my daughter thinks the dangerous woman is an adequate replacement for her mother. But the heart wants what it does. There’s no logic.
“You don’t even know her name,” I say gently.
Ronnie tips up her chin. “That’s why we gotta find her. She’ll tell me once we do.”
I hang my head, rising to stand and steer her toward the house. Her shoulders curl forward as she follows my lead. The fight seeping out of my daughter’s small frame threatens to cleave me in two. Her obsession with this bad influence is getting out of hand.
Although, the woman’s identity is no longer a mystery. I haven’t revealed that discovery to Ronnie in fear she’ll become more relentless. The leather-clad criminal doesn’t deserve her adoration.
Francesca Keller is Colton’s cousin and deeply involved with the cowboy criminals, as Bianca affectionately refers to the group of crooks wreaking havoc around town. Colton cut ties with his father’s crew years ago when Frankie was still a teenager. That’s why he didn’t consider her as a suspect for the one who confronted Bianca at Camp Cloverleaf. He also didn’t think Frankie’s brother would try to permanently remove him from the equation, but that’s a different story.
What’s important right now is convincing my daughter to forget she ever saw Frankie.
“Want to visit the auction barn with me? It’s packed full of pretty ponies for the sale this weekend. Maybe I’ll buy you one,” I offer with entirely too much enthusiasm.
Ronnie exhales heavily. “I don’t want a pony.”
My palm thumps my forehead. “What was I thinking? You’re ready for a big horse. There are plenty of those available too.”