really bad out there."
"That reminds me, your dad called this morning. He and your mom were making some kind of a seafood gumbo. They're taking it to a party tonight."
Lane sprinkled some chili powder, salt and pepper onto the chili, stirred, then replaced the lid on the crock-pot. He looked around the room. then asked, "Where's Ashley?"
"She's in the family room with Hunter, watching the Rudolph DVD for the hundredth time," Frankie answered, rolling her eyes as she pulled some hot rolls from the oven. "Did I tell you I found Ashley with a tube of my red lipstick? She was going to give Hunter a red nose so he could look like Rudolph. Fortunately for Hunter, I caught her just in time."
The mental image of Ashley with the lipstick caused a huge laugh to bubble up in his chest, and he laughed out loud. Frankie tried not to laugh. But she held out for a moment or so before she was snorting with him.
"I love our life," Lane said, moving toward the door. "I think I need some daughter time."
When Lane reached the hallway that led to the family room, he felt a rush of cold air in an otherwise warm area. He quickened his pace until he reached the foyer where the front door was wide-open, and swirls of snow dusted the table, mirror and rug.
"Ashley?"
Looking out the door, Lane saw his little girl, dressed only in a pair of pants and a knit shirt, standing six feet from him, struggling against the wind to stand. She was looking at something in the distance. He rushed outside, picked her up, and carried her, kicking and screaming, into the house. Calling for Frankie, he kicked the door shut with his foot, then carried Ashley, still struggling to get down, close to heat of the roaring blaze in the fireplace.
He set her down, brushing the snow from her hair and clothes. He said, "Ashley, stop it, right now. What's gotten into you?"
Tears spurted from her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. She raced back to the front door and struggled with the doorknob. Lane, right behind her, picked her up again. "Ashley, it's too cold for you outside." He carried her back to the warmth of the fireplace, ignoring her tiny fists beating against his chest.
Hearing the commotion, Frankie came into the room and asked, "What's going on? Why is it so cold in here?"
Ashley was hysterical by now, sobbing and struggling to get loose from Lane's arms. "Daddy, put me down. Let me go."
"What's wrong with her?" asked Frankie, suddenly alarmed. Her intuition told her something was wrong, but her immediate need was to help her little girl.
Still holding the squirming little girl, Lane responded, "I don't know. I found the front door wide open, and I saw Ashley standing outside in the cold."
Frankie moved closer to them, stroking Ashley's back in an effort to calm her, and realized her clothes were wet from the melting snow. "Lane, her clothes are wet," she said before rushing up the stairs to Ashley's room. From a dresser drawer, she pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas with feet, then grabbed the little girl's thick quilted robe from her bed.
She rushed downstairs. She and Lane undressed Ashley to replace her damp clothing with her pajamas, the little girl still struggling to be freed. She kept pointing at the door, saying she had to go. They managed to get her wet top off and replaced it with the dry flannel pajama top. Then Frankie pulled at her damp pants while Lane held her. Throwing the pants to the floor, she put the pajama pants with feet on Ashley, and pinched the snaps closed at the waist. Then they worked together to get the robe on their child.
"Ashley," said Frankie. "Calm down and tell Mommy and Daddy what's wrong."
Ashley gulped hard, hot tears still slipping down her cheeks as she pointed, "Outside. Outside," she cried. "Ashley, go outside."
"No, honey, you can't go outside," Frankie said
"That reminds me, your dad called this morning. He and your mom were making some kind of a seafood gumbo. They're taking it to a party tonight."
Lane sprinkled some chili powder, salt and pepper onto the chili, stirred, then replaced the lid on the crock-pot. He looked around the room. then asked, "Where's Ashley?"
"She's in the family room with Hunter, watching the Rudolph DVD for the hundredth time," Frankie answered, rolling her eyes as she pulled some hot rolls from the oven. "Did I tell you I found Ashley with a tube of my red lipstick? She was going to give Hunter a red nose so he could look like Rudolph. Fortunately for Hunter, I caught her just in time."
The mental image of Ashley with the lipstick caused a huge laugh to bubble up in his chest, and he laughed out loud. Frankie tried not to laugh. But she held out for a moment or so before she was snorting with him.
"I love our life," Lane said, moving toward the door. "I think I need some daughter time."
When Lane reached the hallway that led to the family room, he felt a rush of cold air in an otherwise warm area. He quickened his pace until he reached the foyer where the front door was wide-open, and swirls of snow dusted the table, mirror and rug.
"Ashley?"
Looking out the door, Lane saw his little girl, dressed only in a pair of pants and a knit shirt, standing six feet from him, struggling against the wind to stand. She was looking at something in the distance. He rushed outside, picked her up, and carried her, kicking and screaming, into the house. Calling for Frankie, he kicked the door shut with his foot, then carried Ashley, still struggling to get down, close to heat of the roaring blaze in the fireplace.
He set her down, brushing the snow from her hair and clothes. He said, "Ashley, stop it, right now. What's gotten into you?"
Tears spurted from her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. She raced back to the front door and struggled with the doorknob. Lane, right behind her, picked her up again. "Ashley, it's too cold for you outside." He carried her back to the warmth of the fireplace, ignoring her tiny fists beating against his chest.
Hearing the commotion, Frankie came into the room and asked, "What's going on? Why is it so cold in here?"
Ashley was hysterical by now, sobbing and struggling to get loose from Lane's arms. "Daddy, put me down. Let me go."
"What's wrong with her?" asked Frankie, suddenly alarmed. Her intuition told her something was wrong, but her immediate need was to help her little girl.
Still holding the squirming little girl, Lane responded, "I don't know. I found the front door wide open, and I saw Ashley standing outside in the cold."
Frankie moved closer to them, stroking Ashley's back in an effort to calm her, and realized her clothes were wet from the melting snow. "Lane, her clothes are wet," she said before rushing up the stairs to Ashley's room. From a dresser drawer, she pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas with feet, then grabbed the little girl's thick quilted robe from her bed.
She rushed downstairs. She and Lane undressed Ashley to replace her damp clothing with her pajamas, the little girl still struggling to be freed. She kept pointing at the door, saying she had to go. They managed to get her wet top off and replaced it with the dry flannel pajama top. Then Frankie pulled at her damp pants while Lane held her. Throwing the pants to the floor, she put the pajama pants with feet on Ashley, and pinched the snaps closed at the waist. Then they worked together to get the robe on their child.
"Ashley," said Frankie. "Calm down and tell Mommy and Daddy what's wrong."
Ashley gulped hard, hot tears still slipping down her cheeks as she pointed, "Outside. Outside," she cried. "Ashley, go outside."
"No, honey, you can't go outside," Frankie said
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