Lucy leaned her ear down to the toys, as if listening for their responses, and then turned her dimpled smile on him. “Dey’re very happy wif camping, Daddy, but dey miss my princess bed too.”
Finn ruffled her hair. “No doubt.” He helped her into the bag.
“Will you tell me a story tonight, Daddy?”
“Not tonight.” He knelt and smoothed back her hair from her face. “All of your books are packed away and it’s far past your bedtime.”
“You can make one up from your brain.” Her eyes shone. “I like de ones you make from your brain.”
He tapped her nose. “Tomorrow night when you are snug in your princess bed at a reasonable hour, but tonight our brains need to rest.”
Lucy sighed back into the pillow, a pout pulling at her crooked mouth. “Do you need your brain for a good night prayer?”
His inner laugh almost slipped through his smile. There were times when he needed prayers to find his brain, but never the reverse. “Sometimes a prayer is all I’ve got left, lamb.”
His words grounded him with their deeper truth. Between Sarah walking out, navigating fatherhood solo, and facing Lucy’s surgeries alone—at times, prayer had been his only lifeline. And then, with Father’s death? And his business falling apart...?
He sighed.
Thank heavens, God understood the pleas of a brainless dad.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But I believe I have just enough brain left for one.”
Lucy grinned, pulled her unicorn and dragon up close to her chin, and closed her eyes in preparation.
He took Lucy’s free hand. “Thank you for our new home and the kind people we’ve met this week.”
“And for our new sleeping bags.”
Finn’s lips crooked. “And for our new sleeping bags and for Harry and Margaret’s welcome.”
“And for cheeseburgers.”
Of course.
“And thank you,” he added, “for cheeseburgers.” And running water. At least they had running water. “Please help us to have sweet dreams tonight.”
Lucy wiggled her fingers. “And bring our furniture tomorrow so Daddy can have his special chair.”
Finn chuckled, shaking his head. “Amen.”
He stood and turned off the lamp, then walked to the barren kitchen, its clean, black-and-white appearance leading into a small breakfast room with a window overlooking the main street of the small town with its distant mountains as a dark silhouette. The apartment fit the two of them well. Renovated but retaining the older woodwork to increase its charm. A set of French doors led from the spacious living room into a smaller room Finn would use as his home office, a central location for access to the door and for keeping his eyes on Lucy.
Harry and Margaret’s handiwork was displayed in the subtle wall color after several layers of hideous wallpaper had been removed. And Margaret’s careful attention to the updated kitchen made everything easier for Finn’s move-in. Yes, this would be a good little home for him and Lucy.
He snatched the new mug and poured himself a cup of warm, welcoming java he’d brought up from the pub’s kitchen—his evening comfort along with a few hours of quiet to piece together his thoughts for the next day. He looked over his to-do list in preparation for the upcoming weekend and jotted a few notes on his iPad regarding some final items.
Outside, the town hummed softly—low conversation, the occasional car, the distant glow of streetlights reflecting against the mountains. It was a good place. A safe place.
Lucy started school in a few days, and after a few conversations with the forces that be, Finn felt rather good about the small school.
And who wouldn’t love Lucy?
He paused in his notes and glanced out the window. He’d described Lucy’s situation to the teacher, but predicting kids’ reactions to her scars left a knot in his stomach. Even in this small, Southern town of seemingly kind people, he couldn’t protect her in a new environment when she was out of sight. And her scar wasn’t horrible. Noticeable but better than he’d expected from the severity of her cleft. The teacher had assured him that she’d keep an eye on the situation.
And Lucy was tougher than the pink fluff and dimpled grin might suggest. A lot tougher.
Finn exhaled and turned back to his coffee. He’d barely lifted the cup when—
