He nudged his horse to a smooth canter and caught up with the otherchildren.
"Julianne will be next," she warned the cowboy. "Two days ago, she’d wrangled three of my kitchen chairs into the living room and set up a barrel course forherself."
Dan watched Brady ride off, smiling. "I've started calling her Turbo. They're goodkids."
"I wish I could take the credit," she said. Watching Brady, a wave of grief hit hard, and she had to blink back tears. Her voice was husky when she spoke. "He's a lot like his mom. Emma was... She never made a decision without considering every angle. When she made a joke, it was always so unexpected that you couldn't help laughing. Julianne is more like herdad."
"Were you and your sisterclose?"
She felt the weight of his gaze on her. Curious, compassionate. Andwarm.
"Yes. Our parents were... workaholics, I guess. Slaves to their practices. They were both surgeons. Emma was five years older and pretty much raisedme."
"So you followed in the family business?" he asked quietly. "What about Emma? Was she a doctortoo?"
"The only thing she ever wanted to be was a mom. And she was a goodone."
A sniffle caught her by surprise. She passed a hand under her eyes. Laughed a little at her ownsilliness.
"I went to eight years of medical school. Passed my residency. But I don't know what kind of clothes to buy Julianne for when she starts school in the fall. Brady and I butt heads all the time. I don't know how to reach him anymore, now that I'm his guardian and not just hisaunt."
Dan was riding so close that his knee bumped hers. "You're kidding, right? Anybody can see how much you love those kids. Like they were yourown."
She looked at him. Fell into his eyes, just a little bit. Had to look away, because tears were still pricking her eyes. "I just feel so inadequate sometimes. I can't quit worrying that they'll get hit by a car while riding their bikes or fall down amanhole."
She caught the skeptical raise of his brow. Laughed a little at herself. "I know. In Taylor Hills?" She shook her head. "Some of the things I saw in theER..."
She took in the idyllic scene, the backs of horses and children ahead. On this path, on this beautiful summer day, it was hard to believe there was such tragedy in theworld.
"How did your sisterdie?"
She’d experienced enough tragedy to know it always hit when you least expected it. She swallowed hard. "She and Riley were in a car accident. A head-on collision with a drunkdriver."
They'd been DOA. She'd read all the reports. The police report, the paramedics' report, the coroner’s report. All of it. She’d had nightmares for weeksafterwards.
"Maybe…” Dan said, “maybe you've had a trauma too. Because of the way they died. The suddenness. And maybe in your heart, you know that those things you're afraid of are a little ridiculous. But the trauma is making everything seem so criticallyimportant."
She'd never considered thatbefore.
"And maybe in a few months, or in a year, you'll start to worryless."
A silence fell between them, a comfortable one, as she thought about the cowboy's words. Was she projecting fatal accidents onto the kids because of Emma'saccident?
"I kind of wondered if it was because I haven't gone through any of the things normal parents go through." She let her eyes track the kids' progress as they approached a farm pond flanked by trees. "I wasn't there when they took their first steps." She looked at Dan. "I haven't had any of those little milestones with thekids."
"You were there when they learned how toride."
She looked up at him. He wasright.
He reached out touched her knee. "Nobody expects you to be perfect at this parenting thing. Except maybeyourself."
Dan couldn't believehow strong Meganwas.
The two of them caught up to the kids, and after everyone had watered their horses, they tied off theanimals.
Earlier, he'd prepped wood for a campfire in a rock ring that the Hales and Marksons used for cookouts. Now, he brought out the graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows he'd stashed in his saddlebag. The kids’ resounding cheer gave him a sense of joy he hadn’t felt inyears.
"Let me get the fire going," he said. The boys squatted near to watch while Megan and the girls went after the hand sanitizer she'd stashed inhersaddlebag.
