Rescued in a Wedding Dress by Cara Colter Page B

light to his dark heart, to pave the way for older children, later, who needed prom dresses, though of course it was the need part that was open to question.
    “Actually we could just—”
    But the children were marching into the room, sending eager glances at their visitors, as excited as if they would be performing to visiting royalty.
    He glared at Molly, just to let her know using the kids to try to get to him, to try to get her way, was the ultimate in cheesy. He met her gaze, and held it, to let her know that he was on to her. But before she fully got the seriousness of his stern look, several of the munchkins broke ranks and attacked her!
    They flung themselves at her knees, wrapping sturdy arms around her with such force she stumbled down.The rest of the ranks broke, like water over a dam, flowing out toward the downed Molly and around her until he couldn’t even see her anymore, lost in a wriggling mass of hugs and kisses and delightful squeals of Miss Molly!
    Was she in danger? He watched in horror as Molly’s arm came up and then disappeared again under a pile of wiggling little bodies, all trying to get a hold of her, deliver messy kisses and smudgy hugs.
    He debated rescuing her, but a shout of laughter—female, adult—from somewhere in there let him know somehow she was okay under all that. Delighting in it, even.
    He tried to remain indifferent, but he could not help but follow the faint trail of feeling within him, trying to identify what it was.
    Envious, he arrived at with surprise. Oh, not of all those children, messy little beings that they were with their dripping noses and grubby hands, but somehow envious of her spontaneity, her ability to embrace the unexpected surprise of the moment, the gifts of hugs and kisses those children were plying her with.
    Her giggles came out of the pile again. And he was envious of that, too. When was the last time he had laughed like that? Let go so completely to delight. Had he ever?
    Would he ever? Probably not. He had felt a tug of that feeling in the garden, and again in Now and Zen. But when had he come to see feeling good as an enemy?
    Maybe that’s what happened when you shut down feeling: good and bad were both taken from you, the mind unable to distinguish.
    Finally she extricated herself and stood up, thoughevery one of her fingers and both her knees were claimed by small hands.
    The businesswoman of this morning was erased. In her place was a woman with hair all over the place, her clothes smudged, one shoe missing, a nylon ruined.
    And he had never, ever seen a woman so beautiful.
    The jury was still out on whether she would make a good replacement for Miss Viv. So how could he know, he who avoided that particular entanglement the most—how could he know, so instantly, without a doubt, what a good mother Molly would make with her loving heart, and her laughter filled and spontaneous spirit?
    And why did that thought squeeze his chest so hard for a moment he could not breathe?
    Because of the cad who had made her suffer by letting her go, by stealing her dreams from her.
    No, that was too altruistic. It wasn’t about her. It was about him. He could feel something from the past looming over him, waiting to pounce.
    As Molly rejoined him, Houston focused all his attention on the little messy ones trying so hard to form perfect ranks on a makeshift stage. It was painfully obvious these would be among the city’s neediest children. Some were in old clothes, meticulously cared for. Others were not so well cared for. Some looked rested and eager, others looked strangely tired, dejected.
    With a shiver, he knew exactly which ones lay awake with wide eyes in the night, frightened of being left alone, or of the noises coming from outside or the next rooms. He looked longingly for the exit, but Molly, alarmingly intuitive, seemed to sense his desire to run for the door.
    “They’ve been practicing for us!” she hissed at him, and he ordered himself to brace