"You do?"
"I lost my mom when I was six."
Stephanie turned wide blue eyes on her. "You mean your mom died, too?"
Erin nodded. "She had cancer."
"That must have been really hard, since you were only six. Did you cry?"
"I cried a bunch. I missed her so much."
"I used to cry all the time, but I don't anymore. I even saw my dad cry once. He thought I didn't see him, but I did. It was kind of weird. I told Mrs. T. about it, and she said everyone cries when they're sad. I never told my dad I saw him, though. I figured he'd be embarrassed or something."
Erin smiled despite the fact that she felt the warmth of tears in her eyes. She wondered how a nine-year-old could be so perceptive.
"Is that why you skip school, honey? Because you're sad?"
"I don't know." Steph's eyes skittered toward the window, then down to her sneakers. "Sometimes I get mad. I mean, not at my dad or Mrs. T. or anything. I just get mad because I miss my mom and I can't do stuff, like play basketball and ride Bandito."
Erin wasn't sure how to tell an innocent nine-year-old child that life wasn't always fair. "It's okay to be mad, Steph, but skipping school isn't such a good idea."
"I know."
"But you know what?"
The little girl looked over at her. "What?"
"It helps to talk about it. And I think your dad and Mrs. T. are pretty good listeners."
"So are you."
Feeling her own emotions rise, Erin glanced in the rear-view mirror and swallowed hard.
"Does that yucky feeling that makes you want to cry ever go away?" Stephanie asked.
"It gets easier," Erin said carefully. "Pretty soon when you think of your mom, you'll just smile and think about how much fun she was to be with, and it won't hurt so much to think about her."
"She was pretty fun. She used to braid my hair. Once she even braided Bandito's tail. He looked pretty funny."
Erin looked away from her driving and grinned. "See?" she said. "You're smiling already."
They rode in silence for several minutes, then Erin turned the cruiser into the driveway. In the adjacent pasture, the Appaloosa raised his head and watched them. "Hey, there's Bandito," she said.
Stephanie waved to the horse and blew him a kiss through the open window. "He's so pretty. I showed him at the county fair when I was in 4-H. I won first place in western pleasure class. We rode in the trail class, too, but he's never been good at backing. I could show you my ribbons if you want."
"I'd love to see them. In fact, I'd love to see Bandito, too."
The little girl's face brightened. "Really?"
"Sure." Erin stopped the cruiser.
"So, you really do like horses? The other day I thought you were just, you know, trying to be nice."
"I like horses a lot. And I am really nice." At Stephanie' s smile, she added, "Once you get to know me."
"Do you really think I could ride him sometime, Erin? I mean, with my legs the way they are? You talked about it the other day, and I've sort of been wondering."
Caution demanded Erin tread carefully when it came to this child. She didn't want to give her false hopes. The little girl had had too many disappointments in recent years to build her up for another letdown. Nick seemed to be dead set against her taking on any activity that could be even remotely dangerous. On the other hand, Erin knew for a fact Stephanie could at least sit atop her horse; Erin had seen severely handicapped children ride horses with the help of adult spotters in the weeks she'd volunteered at the Quest Foundation. She'd personally spotted one such teenage boy afflicted with syringomyelia. Stephanie wasn't severely handicapped. Surely Nick wouldn't deny her that small joy in the name of safety. He had, after all, softened his stance on the basketball. Why would he object to her sitting atop Bandito?
"Do you want to give it a shot?" Erin asked, praying she hadn't just committed herself to something that would once again put her and Nick at odds.
Stephanie's grin was all the answer she needed.
"Oh, honey, I don't know." Mrs. Thornsberry worried her pearl necklace with nervous fingers.
"Oh, please, please, please!" said Stephanie, using her arms to rock her wheelchair back and forth on the kitchen floor. "Bandito is so lonely, Mrs. T., and Erin said she'd spot me."
"Spot you?" the older woman asked. "What's that?"
"Uh… walk alongside the horse to make sure she doesn't fall off," Erin clarified from her place at the kitchen door.
"Oh." Mrs. Thornsberry shot Erin a stern look. "You've done this before?"
"I volunteered at the Quest Foundation in Chicago for a couple of months. They've got a renowned equestrian program."
Recognition flared in the older woman's eyes. "I know of it. Very reputable organization."
Erin nodded. "Volunteers go through an intensive training program."
Mrs. Thornsberry still didn't look convinced. "On my first day," Erin continued, "I watched a fourteen-year-old paraplegic ride for the first time. I'll never forget the look on his face when they lifted him onto that horse. It was one of the most moving experiences of my life."
"C'mon, Erin, come see my ribbons," Stephanie interjected. "I have a trophy, too."
Mrs. Thornsberry dried her hands on a dish towel and looked down at Stephanie. "Honey, why don't you go get your boots while Erin and I have a little talk."
Erin took a deep breath, certain that "talk" was synonymous with lecture. She'd overstepped again. Not the first time since she'd set foot in Logan Falls.
"You're not going to talk Erin out of spotting me, are you, Mrs. T?" Steph asked.
"Scoot." Mrs. Thornsberry pushed the wheelchair toward the door. "Dig your riding boots out of your closet, and I'll help you put them on. If your feet are swelled, you can wear your sneakers."
"Really? Okay!"
When the little girl was out of earshot, the older woman turned to Erin. "It's been a long time since I've seen her so excited."
"I hope I haven't gotten her hopes up for no reason," Erin said. "I don't want her to be disappointed."
"You mean if Nick doesn't approve?"
She met the older woman's gaze steadily. "He seems dead set against any activity that could be perceived as dangerous."
"Nick's a good man, Erin. He can be uncompromising, particularly when it comes to Stephanie. But he's devoted. I've never seen a more committed, loving father than Nick. His entire life centers around that girl."
"That's never come into question-"
"Of course it hasn't."
"But he's also a little…" Erin let her voice trail off, not sure how to put into words what she felt in her heart without sounding harsh, or appearing judgmental. She didn't have children; didn't know the first thing about raising them, either. Still, she'd had some experiences in her life that made her unable to ignore what she knew to be true.
"Overprotective?" Mrs. Thornsberry's gaze turned knowing.
Erin nodded. "There are a lot of things Stephanie can still do that Nick refuses to consider. I think that's where some of her frustration comes in."
"You mean her skipping school?"
"I think she's crying out for something she's not getting."
"Nick is a good father," Mrs. Thornsberry said fiercely. Busying her hands by adjusting her apron, she turned to the counter. "Rita's death was hard on this family. Stephanie nearly died that first night. Good heavens, Nick spent so much time at the hospital with her that first terrible week, he practically didn't have time to grieve. But Rita's death changed him. And not all the changes I've seen in him were good."
"What changes?"
"He's always been a very private man. He's not vocal about his feelings-well, unless he's angry. He isn't good at reaching out. After Rita's death, he just… shut down."
"You mean emotionally?"
"That's exactly what I mean. He was crazy about Rita. But she drove him nuts." As if immersed in memories, Mrs. Thornsberry smiled. "Rita was a free spirit. A dare-devil, if you will. She never listened to anyone. Never followed the rules. She liked loud music. Liked to drive fast with the top down on her convertible. She was into skydiving-at night, of all times. Scuba diving-dove with sharks down in Florida a few years back. Good heavens, she even went bungee jumping once. She'd do anything that was fast or dangerous or both. Drove Nick crazy."