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Authors: Susan Mallery
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corner of the porch with his back pressed against the house. Her son was playing with one of his hand-held video games for the first time since they'd moved. As she watched, his fingers moved nimbly over the buttons, destroying electronic bad guys and making his private world safe once again. His glasses slipped down his nose. Absently, he pushed them into place, then took a sip of his drink before returning his attention to his computer game.
Nichole scooted over to lean against her. "I'm hot, Mommy," her youngest told her. "Can we go swimming?"
Sandy shook her head. "We have to wait for the movers, honey. They called and said they would be here later today."
"If they don't break down again," Lindsay said. "You're grumpy all of a sudden. What's going on?"
"I hate this place," Lindsay told her. "There's nothing to do. There are no kids my age, or anything. I can't believe you moved us here."
Mutinous brown eyes glared at her. Lindsay had Thomas's eyes. She had her father's sense of adventure. Unfortunately, she had her mother's temper. Sandy recognized a lot of the unfocused adolescent rage from her own youth in her daughter. Her little girl was growing up fast.
"You didn't seem to mind it too much a few days ago."
"A few days ago, something was going on around here."
Yeah, Kyle had been a part of their lives. Okay, so they all missed him. They would get over it. After all, they'd only known him a few days.
Sandy wished she could make her kids believe it was going to be all right. They would make friends and settle into a routine soon enough. She reminded herself change was never easy, but it was often for the best.
A loud rumbling broke the stillness of the afternoon. Lindsay straightened, even Blake looked up from his game.
"The truck's here!" Nichole crowed. She grinned at her mother.
Sandy reached out and ruffled the little girl's red curls. "I think you're right. Let's go see."
Nichole took Sandy 's hand and skipped down the stairs next to her. Lindsay and Blake followed more slowly. As they rounded the house, Sandy saw a large moving van backing up down the long driveway. The driver checked his mirror, then glanced at someone waving him in from the porch. Sandy looked at the man who was standing there as if he owned the place.
Her heart told her who it was even before she recognized the tall, lean body and the short dark hair. Her knees quivered slightly and her breath caught in her throat. He hadn't gone away. She was a fool, from the top of her head down to her toes. A fool and glad he was there.
"Kyle!" Lindsay called as soon as she saw him. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping." He gave her a smile, but his gaze met Sandy 's. "I saw the truck and figured you'd need some."
"Thanks," Sandy said, climbing up the side stairs to the wide, wooden porch. When she got close to him, she felt awkward. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," he said. "Just being neighborly."
The trunk jerked to a halt with the back end a few feet from the porch. Two men jumped out of the cab, then the driver, Al, climbed down. She recognized him from when he'd come to pick up her belongings in Los Angeles .
"Ms. Walker," the older man said, "we finally got here. Sorry about the delay."
Nichole rushed to the edge of the stairs. "Can we do my room first?"
Al grinned. "We sure can try, little lady. Come on, boys, let's get this stuff unloaded."
The back doors of the truck came off completely. The men stretched them across to the porch, eliminating the need to go up and down the stairs with the furniture. Al opened a side door to the truck. While his men were unstrapping the furniture, he walked toward her.
"If you could show me the layout of the house, we'll put everything where it's supposed to go. I didn't see any writing on your boxes. How are you going to know where they're going?"
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Don't even ask. Mom has a system for everything. Wait until you see it."
"My room's pink," Nichole said.
"Pink?" Al
Nichole scooted over to lean against her. "I'm hot, Mommy," her youngest told her. "Can we go swimming?"
Sandy shook her head. "We have to wait for the movers, honey. They called and said they would be here later today."
"If they don't break down again," Lindsay said. "You're grumpy all of a sudden. What's going on?"
"I hate this place," Lindsay told her. "There's nothing to do. There are no kids my age, or anything. I can't believe you moved us here."
Mutinous brown eyes glared at her. Lindsay had Thomas's eyes. She had her father's sense of adventure. Unfortunately, she had her mother's temper. Sandy recognized a lot of the unfocused adolescent rage from her own youth in her daughter. Her little girl was growing up fast.
"You didn't seem to mind it too much a few days ago."
"A few days ago, something was going on around here."
Yeah, Kyle had been a part of their lives. Okay, so they all missed him. They would get over it. After all, they'd only known him a few days.
Sandy wished she could make her kids believe it was going to be all right. They would make friends and settle into a routine soon enough. She reminded herself change was never easy, but it was often for the best.
A loud rumbling broke the stillness of the afternoon. Lindsay straightened, even Blake looked up from his game.
"The truck's here!" Nichole crowed. She grinned at her mother.
Sandy reached out and ruffled the little girl's red curls. "I think you're right. Let's go see."
Nichole took Sandy 's hand and skipped down the stairs next to her. Lindsay and Blake followed more slowly. As they rounded the house, Sandy saw a large moving van backing up down the long driveway. The driver checked his mirror, then glanced at someone waving him in from the porch. Sandy looked at the man who was standing there as if he owned the place.
Her heart told her who it was even before she recognized the tall, lean body and the short dark hair. Her knees quivered slightly and her breath caught in her throat. He hadn't gone away. She was a fool, from the top of her head down to her toes. A fool and glad he was there.
"Kyle!" Lindsay called as soon as she saw him. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping." He gave her a smile, but his gaze met Sandy 's. "I saw the truck and figured you'd need some."
"Thanks," Sandy said, climbing up the side stairs to the wide, wooden porch. When she got close to him, she felt awkward. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," he said. "Just being neighborly."
The trunk jerked to a halt with the back end a few feet from the porch. Two men jumped out of the cab, then the driver, Al, climbed down. She recognized him from when he'd come to pick up her belongings in Los Angeles .
"Ms. Walker," the older man said, "we finally got here. Sorry about the delay."
Nichole rushed to the edge of the stairs. "Can we do my room first?"
Al grinned. "We sure can try, little lady. Come on, boys, let's get this stuff unloaded."
The back doors of the truck came off completely. The men stretched them across to the porch, eliminating the need to go up and down the stairs with the furniture. Al opened a side door to the truck. While his men were unstrapping the furniture, he walked toward her.
"If you could show me the layout of the house, we'll put everything where it's supposed to go. I didn't see any writing on your boxes. How are you going to know where they're going?"
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Don't even ask. Mom has a system for everything. Wait until you see it."
"My room's pink," Nichole said.
"Pink?" Al
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