Page 23 of A Rancher's Heart
Chapter Six
Caleb had intended to be home when the girls got off the bus, but he’d arrived a couple minutes late, which meant he walked into the house in time to hear Sasha burst into tears.
He knew his daughter well enough to recognize the sound as crocodile tears and nothing more serious, but there was still that initial sense of utter failure.
This wasn’t what he wanted for them. With all the changes over the past two months—and hell, the years before—their little worlds were out of control. Having to deal with the unknown was tough at his age, let alone theirs.
He stopped in the hallway, peeking into the kitchen without showing himself. In the first two-second glimpse he caught the emotions sliding over Tamara’s face. Sadness, confusion—he got that one. Sasha was not an easy person to deal with. The only thing he didn’t see was frustration, so he hung back and waited another moment.
Tamara placed both hands on the island, talking a deep breath as she observed Sasha with that hint of sadness in her eyes. Glancing at Emma she offered a sympathetic headshake, but she didn’t try to go over and hug Sasha or anything.
Then she ignored Sasha and moved to Emma’s side.
“One message about a field trip. I’ll put it on the calendar.” Tamara placed the open homework book in front of his younger daughter. “Oh lovely—spelling words.”
Emma stuck out her tongue.
Tamara chuckled and patted Emma on the shoulder. “Yeah, me too, kiddo. But if you’re going to write notes, you’d better be able to spell. How about you start? We’ll give Sasha another minute.”
Caleb leaned against the hallway wall and watched as Tamara worked on something at the stove, coming back every now and then to check on Emma. Throughout it all, Sasha continued to cry, big, dramatic gasps worthy of an Academy award. Softer, then louder again when she realized she wasn’t getting any attention.
Tamara disregarded the performance other than to grab a box of tissues off the side counter and plop it next to Sasha’s elbow.
By this time Emma was giving her sister the evil eye, but she also ignored the caterwauling with incredible patience.
They were more tolerant than him. Caleb’s nerve endings were raw from the shrieking. He stepped forward and cleared his throat, making sure he was loud enough to give a warning before he walked into the room.
Tamara spotted him, and between her jerk of surprise and his noisemaking, it was enough Sasha glanced over her shoulder—
Miracle of miracles, the tears shut off as if she’d turned a valve. She grabbed a handful of tissues as she hurriedly reached for her backpack and began pulling things from it, all the time keeping her face turned away.
Tamara watched warily, but Emma slipped off her chair and ran to greet him like usual, stopping inches away before wrinkling her nose then for emphasis, pinching it closed.
“Yes, button, I’ve been doing stinky things, and I’m not done work for the day. I just thought I would stop in and say hello.” He glanced at the island. “Are those cookies? I might have to steal a couple.”
Emma kissed her fingertips then pressed them against his lips before running to the counter and climbing up to grab a glass.
She held it out to him.
“I’d love some milk. How do you eat cookies without a glass of milk?”
“Cookies without milk are illegal,” Tamara agreed. “Sasha, would you please pour for your daddy?”
Sasha got off her stool quickly, grabbing the milk from the fridge and going to work to fill the glass Emma left on the counter. She paused to get rid of her tissues before turning to him, all evidence of her tears wiped clean and a beautiful smile in place. “We’re having a snack before doing our homework.”
Caleb nodded. “I see. Sounds like a great plan. And yum. Cookies—not something we get every day.”
Emma apparently approved as she had two clutched in one fist and a pencil in the other. She’d pulled out a piece of paper and was drawing a picture.
“Are those your spelling words?” Tamara asked.
Her little shoulders rose before Emma let out an enormous sigh and slid the paper under her notebook, returning to the dreaded assignment.
It wasn’t appropriate to laugh at either of his children. He exchanged a glance with Tamara, thankful he didn’t have to say a word. She’d picked up on his amusement, a hint of a smile twisting the corners of her lips.
He stood and enjoyed his cookie as Sasha told him a random set of information including what she’d done in gym class, that someone in second grade had a birthday soon, and that the pillow on her bed was lumpy.
The cold milk rinsed down the sweetness of the cookie perfectly, and since world war three seemed to have been averted, he took his leave.
