sought for another way to explain it to her. "How would you feel if one of your hobbies suddenly became a job?"
"I don't know. I don't have a hobby."
It was his turn to stare at her in stunned silence. "You don't have a hobby? Everybody has a hobby. Do you sew? Crochet? Knit? Paint? Grow African violets?" Ann shook her head in answer to every suggestion and his suggestions became more outrageous. Becky came to lean on the back of the sofa and threw in a few suggestions of her own.
"I've got it. You're a closet taxidermist."
Helpless with laughter, Ann shook her head.
"What's a taxi.. .taxipermist?" Becky's question came out on a yawn, making Flynn realize how late it was.
He stood up, abandoning the subject of Ann's hobbies for the moment. "It's someone who gives permanents to taxi drivers. Time for bed, urchin." He ignored the inevitable protests and herded her toward the bathroom with instructions to wash her hands.
"I'll supervise." Ann followed Becky into the bathroom and he could hear the two of them talking. He turned down the sheets on Becky's bed and then looked around the room. It was funny how just a few nights with Becky sleeping here and already the room felt lived in again. Mark's presence was fading to pleasant memories.
He turned as Becky and Ann entered the room. Becky was tucked into bed with Frankie the giraffe snuggled beside her.
"Tell me a story, Mr. Flynn." Flynn told her a story about a frog who became a prince and the princess who loved him even when he was a frog. Behind him, he could hear Ann moving around, quietly putting away the last of the day's purchases. It felt so right. It felt like... home.
He finished the story and reached up to tuck the covers under Becky's chin. "Good night, Becky."
"Mr. Flynn? Do you think I'll ever see my mama again?"
Flynn was aware of Ann coming to stand behind him, but he knew the question was his to field. What was he supposed to say? Life didn't offer any guarantees. Not even to children.
"We've got a man looking for her, honey. He's very good at finding people. All we can do is cross our fingers that he'll find her soon."
"What's goin' to happen to me if he don't find her?"
Flynn brushed the ragged bangs off her forehead, telling himself not to promise too much. Behind him, he could feel Ann's tension. He looked at Becky, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, the hint of a quiver that shook her stubborn chin and the absolute trust she gave him. And suddenly the answer was very simple.
"I'll take care of you, Becky. Whatever happens, I'll take care of you."
The uncertainty faded from her eyes. If Flynn said he'd take care of her, she believed him. She yawned. "What are we gonna do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, you and I are going to find a hobby for Ann."
"That'll be fun."
"I think so. Now, go to sleep." He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then waited while Ann did the same. They left the room, leaving the door partially open behind them.
"That's an awfully big promise." Ann's voice was carefully noncritical.
Flynn ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, but what else could I say to her? Besides, I meant it."
"I'm sure the detective will find Becky's mother."
"I hope so. But whatever happens, I'm going to make sure Becky doesn't suffer for it."
Ann reached out to touch the back of his hand. "I know you will."
❧
Ann didn't give any more thought to Flynn's threat to find her a hobby. She knew he was just kidding. After all, nobody could choose a hobby for another person. She might have known that this was another rule that Flynn McCallister had never heard of.
The next evening when she got home, she didn't even bother to pretend to herself that she wasn't going to go to Flynn's apartment. Like it or not, she was involved. As long as he had Becky, Ann was involved in his life.
She changed clothes and fed Oscar, giving him some extra attention to make up for the fact that she was leaving him alone again. An hour after arriving home, she was
"I don't know. I don't have a hobby."
It was his turn to stare at her in stunned silence. "You don't have a hobby? Everybody has a hobby. Do you sew? Crochet? Knit? Paint? Grow African violets?" Ann shook her head in answer to every suggestion and his suggestions became more outrageous. Becky came to lean on the back of the sofa and threw in a few suggestions of her own.
"I've got it. You're a closet taxidermist."
Helpless with laughter, Ann shook her head.
"What's a taxi.. .taxipermist?" Becky's question came out on a yawn, making Flynn realize how late it was.
He stood up, abandoning the subject of Ann's hobbies for the moment. "It's someone who gives permanents to taxi drivers. Time for bed, urchin." He ignored the inevitable protests and herded her toward the bathroom with instructions to wash her hands.
"I'll supervise." Ann followed Becky into the bathroom and he could hear the two of them talking. He turned down the sheets on Becky's bed and then looked around the room. It was funny how just a few nights with Becky sleeping here and already the room felt lived in again. Mark's presence was fading to pleasant memories.
He turned as Becky and Ann entered the room. Becky was tucked into bed with Frankie the giraffe snuggled beside her.
"Tell me a story, Mr. Flynn." Flynn told her a story about a frog who became a prince and the princess who loved him even when he was a frog. Behind him, he could hear Ann moving around, quietly putting away the last of the day's purchases. It felt so right. It felt like... home.
He finished the story and reached up to tuck the covers under Becky's chin. "Good night, Becky."
"Mr. Flynn? Do you think I'll ever see my mama again?"
Flynn was aware of Ann coming to stand behind him, but he knew the question was his to field. What was he supposed to say? Life didn't offer any guarantees. Not even to children.
"We've got a man looking for her, honey. He's very good at finding people. All we can do is cross our fingers that he'll find her soon."
"What's goin' to happen to me if he don't find her?"
Flynn brushed the ragged bangs off her forehead, telling himself not to promise too much. Behind him, he could feel Ann's tension. He looked at Becky, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, the hint of a quiver that shook her stubborn chin and the absolute trust she gave him. And suddenly the answer was very simple.
"I'll take care of you, Becky. Whatever happens, I'll take care of you."
The uncertainty faded from her eyes. If Flynn said he'd take care of her, she believed him. She yawned. "What are we gonna do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, you and I are going to find a hobby for Ann."
"That'll be fun."
"I think so. Now, go to sleep." He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then waited while Ann did the same. They left the room, leaving the door partially open behind them.
"That's an awfully big promise." Ann's voice was carefully noncritical.
Flynn ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, but what else could I say to her? Besides, I meant it."
"I'm sure the detective will find Becky's mother."
"I hope so. But whatever happens, I'm going to make sure Becky doesn't suffer for it."
Ann reached out to touch the back of his hand. "I know you will."
❧
Ann didn't give any more thought to Flynn's threat to find her a hobby. She knew he was just kidding. After all, nobody could choose a hobby for another person. She might have known that this was another rule that Flynn McCallister had never heard of.
The next evening when she got home, she didn't even bother to pretend to herself that she wasn't going to go to Flynn's apartment. Like it or not, she was involved. As long as he had Becky, Ann was involved in his life.
She changed clothes and fed Oscar, giving him some extra attention to make up for the fact that she was leaving him alone again. An hour after arriving home, she was
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