Later, as Nixie tugged at the halter of her recalcitrant donkey, she tried not to think about the man watching her from beside his mount at first base. He was one of those deemed too large to ride the tiny animal, so the rules allowed him to run beside it or, in this case, walk and drag.
Although the bleachers were packed with laughing fans, many of them calling advice to her, Nixie was unmindful of them. That one man had the power to make her feel self-conscious when all the others combined did not.
Each donkey had been trained to display a different temperament for the game. The animal’s name she had drawn out of the hat had been Flash, so it had come as a surprise to discover that the little beast didn’t live up to her name.
If she couldn’t get the donkey to its place beyond the batter’s box within the allotted amount of time, Nixie would lose her turn at bat, earning an automatic out.
And the rescue squad and fire department couldn’t afford that. The business owners had pledged to pay for every point the emergency crew scored over the opposing team.
Nixie let go of the halter and walked around to the back of the animal. Giving a push, she was grateful for the donkey’s mild-mannered disposition.
Gradually, with agonizing slowness, Nixie urged Flash to her appointed box. When the donkey’s hoof touched the chalk line, a cheer rose up from the bleachers. Taking the rubber bat in hand, Nixie stepped up to the batter’s box.
She glanced at the first baseman and squelched a giggle. The biggest man on the Bliss merchants’ team, Boone had drawn the name of Tiny, the smallest donkey. Without putting weight on the animal, Boone balanced on one leg with the other draped over Tiny’s back, just for show.
Winding up, the pitcher tossed the ball. Nixie made two strikes before she finally hit the padded ball with a dull thud. It rolled no more than twenty feet.
Players flew to action as they all raced for their mounts. Nixie clambered onto Flash’s back and urged her toward first base. The donkey plodded along as though she were on a Sunday stroll.
Up ahead, Nixie could see the pitcher had thrown toward Boone, who missed it when Tiny came to an abrupt stop just shy of the ball. With difficulty, Boone turned his donkey with one leg while hopping with the other keep his weight off the animal—raced toward the ball.
Just as Boone leaned to pick it up, Tiny knocked it with her front hoof and kicked it out of reach.
Meanwhile, Flash plodded steadily toward first base.
By now, the second baseman had figured out that his mount went left when urged right and right when steered left. By leaning in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go, he managed to work his way toward first base to back up Boone.
Nixie bounced on Flash’s back, nudged her sides with the heels of her sneakers, and gently swatted her rump. No matter what she did, the animal never changed course or sped up. But it didn’t matter because the other riders were just as disadvantaged as she.
Just as Flash was moseying up to the plate, Boone attempted to grab the ball and turn his miniature steed toward her. Hopping and flailing his arms, he managed to keep up with the swift-footed animal.
The pair doggedly raced toward her, and Nixie feared less that she’d score an out than that she’d get run over. When they were a few feet from her, Nixie cringed and waited for the inevitable impact.
It never came.
Boone’s donkey braced her little hooves in the dirt just beyond reach of the plate and came to another bone-jarring halt. And in his enthusiasm to tag Nixie out, Boone had apparently forgotten his mount’s annoying personality trait.
He pitched forward from the momentum of the sudden stop and did a half flip before landing flat on his back.
In a hurry to leave the damage she’d caused, Tiny jumped over her rider and headed toward the outfield to grab a mouthful of clover.
“Boone!” Nixie had heard his audible “Oomph!” when he hit the ground.
Forgetting about making sure Flash’s hoof touched first base, forgetting about the importance of scoring points to help earn more money for the squad, forgetting everything but the thought that Boone might be hurt as he lay motionless on the ground, Nixie jumped down and ran to him.
“Boone! Boone, are you all right?” She knelt beside him but resisted the urge to lift his head and cradle him in her arms.
From her experience running calls with the squad, she knew he could have sustained a serious injury. He may have damaged a vertebra the way he’d fallen so hard. Or he could have broken his neck or suffered a concussion.
Grabbing his wrist, she checked for a pulse. “Come on, Boone, you can’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Please tell me you can hear me.”
When he remained deathly still, Nixie felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Oh, God, Boone, I couldn’t stand it if anything bad happened to you.”
The other players had abandoned their donkeys, as well, and now circled them. “Is he breathing?” someone asked.
His eyes were shut, and in her panic Nixie couldn’t detect whether his chest was rising and falling as it should. She laid a hand on the hard planes of his chest and leaned closer to see if she could feel his breath against her cheek.
Someone shushed the crowd, but even so, she couldn’t detect any sign of respiration. She glanced at his handsome face and decided to listen again before beginning life-saving techniques. She put her ear close to his mouth.
His breath came out in a short, quick puff against her face. Startled at the unexpected response, she jerked around and looked into his smiling eyes.
“Go ahead and admit it, Nixie. You do love me.”
He had set her up. And Nixie had fallen for it like a row of dominoes.
It was Saturday morning, the day after Boone’s hoax, yet she still couldn’t stop thinking about the scare he’d given her. And the awkward part was that, with all those people crowded around them, she couldn’t deny what he’d said.
All she could do was drown him with her tears of relief and promise him that if he ever pulled another stunt like that, she’d personally give him a concussion.
Jeff finished backing the ambulance into the squad building’s bay. Nixie got out and pressed the button to lower the automatic door. Thanks to it being a weekend, they’d managed to pick up a third volunteer, Marvin, who had helped considerably on the rescue call.
“I’m glad old Mr. Binford is going to be all right,” Marvin said. “The way he was breathing, he had me pretty worried.”
Nixie chuckled as she recalled their trip to the emergency room with the elderly man gasping for breath. It wasn’t until Marvin had started questioning the man’s daughter that they discovered the reason for his breathing problem.
At age eighty-nine, Mr. Binford was unable to get around as much as he used to, so his daughter had installed a deluxe cable television service for him to watch. The old man had clicked through the channels until he found a program featuring women wrestlers. After a few moments of viewing, he had hyperventilated.
“I wish all our calls were this easy. Fix the problem, then cart ’em to the hospital to be checked out.” Nixie snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
A few minutes later, as she pulled into her driveway, Nixie decided she’d have to tell Uncle Jay what happened to Bo Binford. She checked the mailbox and found one envelope. The return address was that of the Bliss Gazette. Something from Boone?
With tentative fingers, she opened the letter. It was from Aunt Alice, the advice columnist. Nixie had almost forgotten she’d sent that letter in which she’d poured out her frustrations.
Too late, she realized the embarrassment she could have caused if the letter had been used in the newspaper column. Thank goodness Aunt Alice had chosen to reply personally.
Dear Reader,
It appears your daughter did, indeed, want a father, but perhaps she expected a generic man who could be a companion to her mother and a helper to her and her brother. From what you told me in your letter, it seems she didn’t expect to involve her heart any more than if she were hiring a gardener. Yet, things turned out differently than she expected, and she began to love this man who recently re-entered your life. Have you considered that she may feel disloyal to her deceased father by loving another man?
Nixie stared at the letter in amazement. She had been trying for weeks to figure out what was bothering Bethany, and the only thing she could conclude was that her daughter was just as confused by her reaction to Boone as she was. And yet an advice columnist—a complete stranger—was able to sum up the problem in a mere paragraph. Nixie couldn’t help being astonished by the writer’s perception and insight.
The letter concluded:
Remember that children don’t always know what’s best for them. Be honest with the man you love and tell him what you told me. With the help of his love and understanding, both of you can help your daughter cope with her ambiguous feelings.
For the next several days, Nixie’s thoughts kept returning to Alice’s letter. Why hadn’t she seen that Bethany’s resistance reflected her loyalty to her father’s memory? Nixie supposed she had overlooked that possibility because Bethany had been so young when Paul died.
One thing was certain. Bethany had been receptive to Boone and enjoyed his friendship until they’d begun talking about marriage.
If her daughter had truly disliked him, Nixie’s decision to break things off with Boone would have been a little easier to bear. But she knew that Bethany cared for him as much as Brad did. That was what made things so frustrating.
Her heart ached as she thought of the pain she’d put Boone through. But, she reminded herself, she hadn’t known what else to do at the time.
Nixie walked into the living room and noticed that Brad had forgotten to cover Tarzan before he went to bed. Pulling the cloth up over the bird’s cage, she whispered, “Night-night.”
“Night-night,” the parrot echoed. Then the bird whispered a phrase she’d never heard him say before. In fact, she’d never heard the loudmouth whisper until now.
She listened closely, waiting for him to repeat the phrase. When he did, she couldn’t believe her ears.
“Boone loves Nixie,” the bird confided in a hushed croak.
Shocked, Nixie echoed the statement as if to verify what she’d just heard. “Boone loves Nixie?”
Tarzan sidestepped closer on his perch and peered at her through the bars with one beady eye. “Boone loves Nixie,” he whispered several times in succession. Then he shocked her back to reality by shrieking, “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” Stunned, Nixie finished covering the cage.
“Night-night,” Tarzan peeped. Then he began quietly practicing the new sentence he’d just mastered.
Her mind still reeling, she stumbled into the kitchen to catch Stormy and lock him up for the night. Warm with emotion from the bird’s whispered revelation, Nixie hugged the little brown kitten.
“Boone loves Nixie,” she said to the squirming animal. “That must have been what he was mumbling to Tarzan all those times I found him by the cage.”
The advice columnist’s suggestion came back to her. Be honest with the man you love. Although she loved Boone with all her heart, she’d never told him—not even after his tumble at the donkey ball game. He would be coming tomorrow to take Brad to the den meeting. She’d tell him then. She’d also enlist his aid in helping Bethany cope with her “ambiguous feelings.”
For the first time in a long while, Nixie’s spirits soared. There was hope, after all. And that hope empowered her, made her sense that, together, she and Boone could accomplish anything. That they could even make Bethany realize there was room in their family, and in her heart, for a newcomer such as Boone.
Precious rubbed against her legs, demanding a bedtime snack, so she put Stormy down on the floor, reached into the pantry, and retrieved a can of the cat’s favorite flavor. Chicken chunks in sauce.
She opened the can and turned to get their bowls. Precious stood in front of Stormy with her back arched and fur standing on end. The yellow cat bared her teeth and hissed at the newcomer.
“Stop that,” Nixie said and stamped her foot at Precious. Remembering the overheard conversation Bethany had with her cat, she wished there was a way to get the animals to become friends.
Maybe if her daughter saw that Precious could accept an animal newcomer, then Bethany could accept a human one.
As she scooped the smelly stuff into the cat’s dish, an idea occurred to Nixie. It was a far-fetched idea, but at this point Nixie was willing to try anything.
Ignoring the angry hisses from Precious, she picked up the lanky kitten and cuddled him close. “Please excuse what I’m about to do to you,” she told the brown feline. “But if this works, we’ll both be thanking each other.”
That said, Nixie plunged her fingertips into the gravy-like sauce. Cooing all the while to the bewildered kitten, she stroked its head and left a patch of sauce smeared on its fur.
“On the other hand, if this doesn’t work,” she told him, “I’ll have to give you the added indignity of a bath.”
A few more strokes, and Stormy was covered with cat food sauce from his eyebrows to his ear tips and down his neck. “Please let this work,” Nixie murmured and set him on the floor near Precious.
The older cat hissed again. But just as she’d hoped, Precious suddenly stopped complaining and leaned forward, sniffing suspiciously. Moving closer, the cat sniffed her tiny counterpart.
Anxious, Nixie stood ready to intervene if the old-timer should attack the kitten.
Slowly, tentatively, Precious stretched until her mouth was at Stormy’s neck. Nixie prayed fervently that Precious wouldn’t do to the kitten what she had done to the chipmunk she’d caught last month.
When the yellow cat’s tongue darted out to sample the aromatic kitten, Nixie breathed a sigh of relief. Soon Precious was happily cleaning the sauce off of Stormy’s head, and Stormy was obviously enjoying the older cat’s rough massage. But after the sauce was gone, instinct took over, and Precious gave Stormy a thorough washing.
Nixie put her hands together, looked heavenward, and whispered a heartfelt “Thank you.”
Later, after she’d dressed for bed, she went looking for Stormy, hoping she wouldn’t have to lock him in the utility room again. After a thorough inspection of the house, she finally found him in Bethany’s room, snuggled on the ragged blanket that served as a bed for Precious. The older cat’s yellow paw lay draped across the tiny kitten as they slept.
Nixie closed the door and went back to her bedroom. If only it could be this simple for Boone to win Bethany’s acceptance.
Wednesday evening, when Boone stopped by to pick up Brad for the Scout meeting, Nixie was ready for him.
Instead of pulling her hair back with clips as she often did to keep it out of the way, she’d spent a long time at the bathroom mirror, puffing her bangs and coaxing the reddish-brown locks into gentle waves that caressed her shoulders.
Even at her age, when she was old enough to know it didn’t matter about the size of her endowments, she wished she had a little more on top. But she did have good legs, so she pulled on a pair of black stretch pants that would show them to their best advantage and topped everything off with an oversize red shirt that fell below her hips.
Nixie had a lot to make up to Boone, and she wanted to give him every reason possible to forgive her for her foolish mistake. She only hoped it wasn’t too late.
He prowled the den, waiting once again for Brad to gather his belongings so they could go. Nixie was pleased that even though Boone seemed restless, he wasn’t too distracted to notice the fit of her clothes. He gave her a once-over that would have earned any other man a slap for his familiarity. Coming from Boone, though, the intense observation made her feel twenty years old again. Young, vibrant, and alluring.
Nixie mentally reviewed her game plan, just as Boone had always done before going out on the football field. Remembering Aunt Alice’s suggestion to be honest with the man she loved, she would begin by telling him her feelings for him. She’d follow by saying that, if he was still willing, she would welcome his presence—and especially his love and understanding—through the good times and bad in her life. And she’d be there for him through the good and bad times in his life.
She would have to warn him, though, that they needed to take things slowly with Bethany. But, in doing so, that would give them time to learn more about each other and solidify their relationship before taking that giant step into marriage.
Boone’s nervous prowling took him past Tarzan’s cage. He paused and grinned at the bird. “Has he learned anything new recently?” he asked Nixie.
This was the opening she’d been waiting for. But first, she’d dish out a little of the teasing he’d given her so much of over the years. “Besides burping and excusing himself?”
Brad burst into the room with the subtlety of a train wreck. “I’m ready, Boone, let’s go.”
Boone caught the boy by the scruff of his shirt. “Wait a minute. What’s your hurry?”
“He wants to get there first,” Bethany said, descending the stairs with ladylike poise, “because he wants to sit next to you.”
“I can’t blame him for that,” Nixie said. An eyebrow raised, Boone turned and cast her a curious glance. Nixie met his gaze with a slight fluttering of her eyelashes. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. Although he seemed encouraged by her response, she couldn’t open the door to the discussion she’d planned—not with the children in the room.
“I have a surprise for all of you,” Boone announced, reaching into his back pocket.
Brad crowded closer to his idol while Bethany pretended little interest in the papers in his hand.
“Three more applicants,” Boone said, holding the papers aloft.
Brad followed him to the sofa and sat down beside him, a frown creasing his youthful features. “I don’t want a stranger for a daddy. I want you.”
Boone squeezed the boy’s shoulder. Together, Nixie and Boone turned to Bethany for her reaction.
The girl sat down beside her brother. Her expression was troubled, and Nixie couldn’t help worrying that her daughter’s discomfort might erupt in a physical form as it had done before.
“I’d like to see the replies,” Bethany told Boone.
Nixie’s heart sank. When the preteen had awakened this morning to find Stormy and Precious playing together like the best of buddies, she had been ecstatic.
When Nixie had entered the room to find Bethany playing with both cats, she had tried to point out to her daughter that Precious could accept Stormy and still love her. Nixie tried to make her realize, without coming right out and saying so, that Bethany could accept Boone into her life and still love Paul.
Apparently, the message hadn’t sunk in.
Boone handed Bethany the three pieces of correspondence. Two emails and one snail-mail letter. “I didn’t think you’d get any more responses since the ad stopped running a long time ago,” he told her. “These folks must have found an old newspaper lying around, or they might have planned to answer the ad but took a long time getting around to it.”
Bethany scanned the first email while the three of them watched. After a moment she crumpled it into a ball, as she’d done with so many of the others.
“This loser thinks it’s okay to use drugs for ‘recreational purposes,’” she said with a sneer in her voice.
Despite her disappointment that Bethany was still unwilling to give Boone a chance, Nixie smiled her relief. Apparently the Too Smart to Start message was firmly embedded in her daughter’s attitude.
“How about the next one?” Boone asked.
Nixie blinked and glared at him with sharp disapproval. Why was he encouraging her? With a heavy sigh, she realized she couldn’t blame him. After all, she’d been the one to tell him in no uncertain terms that there was no chance of a permanent relationship between them.
Bethany unfolded the second email in the stack. “This one’s a farmer.”
Apparently forgetting his earlier declaration about wanting only Boone for a daddy, Brad perked up and peered over his sister’s shoulder. “Hey, maybe we could learn how to milk a cow!”
“Not this one,” Bethany said, tearing it in two. “He just wants us for extra help on the farm. I’m not going to ballet lessons smelling like cow dookie.”
“Too late,” Brad razzed. “You already do.”
Nixie sought to soften the disappointment that was evident in her daughter’s face. “Bethany, this is why I was against your placing the ad for a daddy. It’s hard enough to find a decent single man, and an ad such as yours and Brad’s seems to bring responses from people who are most desperate.”
Bethany scowled. “But I’ve heard about how people met through dating apps and classified ads.”
Nixie felt her daughter’s pain. Sitting beside her, she put an arm around the child. “Those stories make the news because successes are so rare.”
“Well, don’t give up yet,” Boone urged. “There’s one more in your hand.”
Nixie tried not to feel the pain that his words caused. He seemed too willing to find a replacement.
Bethany’s pessimism was obvious as she slowly opened the last one, but her eyes widened as she pulled the letter from its envelope. “This one’s typed.”
“It’s a long one, too,” Brad piped in. “Read it out loud.”
Bethany cleared her throat and began.
Dear Children,
I am impressed by your enterprise, as well as your obvious high opinion of your mother. I trust she realizes how lucky she is to have thoughtful children such as yourselves.
Bethany stopped and scratched her nose. “So far, so good. He must have good taste to recognize how wonderful we are.” She smiled and continued.
Since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I won’t bother to describe my physical attributes. Why don’t we let your mother decide for herself whether I meet her standards?
As for the other points you specified in your ad, I confess I strive to be strong in character as well as in physical fitness. I was raised in a loving home, and I look forward to sharing my love with a woman who wants to be my equal yet is willing to accept that the differences in men and women serve to complement the whole.
Though I don’t currently share my home with any animals, I am fond of all of God’s creatures, especially children.
“God’s creatures,” Brad said. “He sounds like a churchgoer.” He licked his finger and stroked the air. “That’s another point for him.”
You asked for someone who is dependable. I trust that you’ll accept my ownership of a prominent business in your community as evidence that I am up to handling my responsibilities. Because of my professional endeavors, I must ask your understanding about my choosing to remain anonymous until your mother decides whether she’d like to meet me.
The letter ended with a suggestion they meet at seven o’clock Saturday night at an elegant restaurant just outside of town. Nixie would be able to identify the mystery man by the red carnation on his lapel.
“That’s an expensive restaurant,” Bethany observed. “I wonder if he’s rich.”
“He used a bunch of big words,” said Brad. “I’ll bet he’s plenty smart enough for Mom.”
Boone leaned forward and looked past the children to catch Nixie’s eye. “This one sounds like a winner. Why don’t you meet him?”
“Yeah,” said Bethany. “It couldn’t hurt.”
Brad, on the other hand, got up and jerked his Scout manual off the lamp table. “It sounds like a stupid idea to me.” Turning to Boone, he added, “Let’s go, or we’re going to be late.”
Boone rose slowly, passing Nixie a wink as he did so. “Where’s your sense of adventure, boy? I think it would be a good idea for your mother to meet this Mr. Wonderful.”
Nixie rose and followed them to the door. “Boone, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Hey, it’s a great idea. If you’re scared of meeting a stranger, I’ll go and sit at another table to keep an eye on things.”
“That won’t be necessary, because I’m not going.”
“What do you mean, you’re not going? This guy has winner written all over him.”
Nixie took a deep breath. Maybe she should go ahead and tell him now, in front of the children. Let him know she wasn’t a lost cause where he was concerned. Silently, she willed him to understand what she was trying so hard to communicate to him.
“There’s something important I have to tell you.”
“We’re going to be late. Let’s talk when we get back. Meanwhile, mark your calendar for Saturday night. I want you to give this guy a try.”
Nixie’s throat closed at the cavalier manner in which he urged her to see another man. All she could manage to force out was one word. “Why?”
Boone stepped out onto the porch. Holding the screen door open, he gave a little shrug. “I want you and the kids to be happy.”