LITMIR.BIZ

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to fly her?”

      “Yes!” Thomas didn’t need any other invitation. Kite in hand, he led the way through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. The adults followed.

      “He’s been bouncy all day,” Haley said. “Very excited.”

      “Flying a kite is no big deal.”

      Haley fought an eye roll. He’d probably come from the perfect family where disappointments were rare. But her foster son hadn’t. Creed didn’t understand. Flying the kite wasn’t the issue. Having a man care enough to show up was. “It’s important to him.”

      And to her. For Thomas’s sake. She eased around the troubling pilot, careful not to let her arm brush his in the narrow hallway. She didn’t want a repeat of last night’s touchy-feely episode.

      As they passed through the kitchen, Creed glanced toward the table. “Where’s the baby? Rose Petal.”

      “I moved the bassinet into my bedroom.” As Haley had expected, Rose Petal had cried off and on all night.

      “How’s she doing?”

      “Fine.” Her answers were short and to the point, maybe even abrupt, but the flyboy was too close in the small kitchen. And he smelled good. And looked all spit and polished. For crying out loud, had he gone home after work and showered?

      She’d been in the garden most of the morning and in the work room all afternoon when she hadn’t been caring for Rose Petal. She probably smelled like a combo of Miracle-Gro and acrylic paint. Or baby formula.

      Once outside, Creed’s focus, thankfully, was on Thomas, not her. Haley let out a tight sigh.

      “Have you ever flown a kite before?” Creed asked, one hand on Thomas’s shoulder as he surveyed the spacious backyard.

      Thomas shook his head. The pale blond cowlick quivered.

      “Okay, then, here’s how it works. Check out the space above you first. A pilot never flies unless he has smooth sailing. Safety first. See any electric wires or trees?”

      Her backyard was a mass of trees and plants with a single electric line slicing through the center. Not exactly kite-flying territory.

      Thomas’s chin tilted upward. “Yeah, but there’s not any over that way.”

      “Then, that’s our flight path.” Creed took Thomas’s arm and pointed. “Look down your arm. See it? Smooth sailing.”

      “Yep. Smooth sailing.”

      Smiling, Haley settled on the top step to listen as Creed talked in his rich, manly voice about wind direction and air speed. Behind his thick glasses, Thomas listened enrapt.

      “Ready?”

      Eagerly, Thomas nodded and the males, one small and pale, one dark and fit, moved across her long backyard. Creed held the kite and Thomas the string, slowly letting out the length until the diamond-shaped plastic caught the wind.

      “We have liftoff!” Creed cried, teeth flashing against dark skin.

      “It’s flying. It’s flying! Look, Haley, our kite is flying!” The boy was practically levitating from joy. Any moment she expected him to take flight along with his kite.

      Such a simple thing, Haley thought, to make a child so happy. And, she admitted grudgingly, Creed Carter had made it happen.

      From her perch on the back porch, she clapped. “Awesome!”

      “Come on,” Thomas shouted. “You’ll have fun.”

      Unable to resist the boy’s sweet pleasure, she leaped up and jogged to him, her bare toes tickled by the soft, new grass that smelled of moist earth and blue sky.

      In his enthusiasm, Thomas lost control. The kite dipped, floundering. In wide-eyed panic, he shouted, “I’m gonna crash!”

      Calm and cool as a fresh snowfall, Creed placed his wider hand atop Thomas’s to assist. “Feel that tug? That’s when you know to give her more string. She’s eager to ascend.”

      Tension gripped Thomas’s voice. “Like this?”

      “That’s the way. Catch the updraft.” Creed’s hand dropped away. He stood observing, ready to help, but letting the success belong to Thomas.

      Even though she didn’t want to, Haley liked him for that.

      The dark blue diamond rose higher and higher until the kite looked like a child’s colorful sticker pasted against the soft blue sky. Gradually, Thomas’s thin shoulders relaxed and his intensity turned to a smile.

      “I’m doing it, aren’t I, Creed? I’m flying. Now I can fly anytime I want.”

      “Whenever there’s enough breeze.”

      Rapt, Thomas followed his kite across the open field, slowly reeling and unreeling string as he left the adults behind.

      Haley stood at Creed’s elbow, more aware of him than she wanted to be. “You made that look easy.”

      He slid a glance in her direction. “Flying a kite is easy.”

      “Never was for me.”

      “Then why did you buy him one?”

      She raised a shoulder. “He wanted one so badly. I had to try.”

      He gave her another of those cool looks she didn’t understand. He did that a lot, she noticed, as if she were from another planet and any minute he expected her green scales to show.

      But his conversation was remarkably normal. “Thomas is a nice boy.”

      “Yes, and a valiant spirit.” The child had endured loss and pain but hadn’t grown bitter or angry. At least not yet. She hoped and prayed he never would, but she was also a realist. Whatever happened happened.

      Haley crossed her ankles and settled onto the grass.

      Thomas had the kite well in hand now, his blond head tilted back to watch the spectacle.

      Creed crossed his arms over the yellow helicopter logo but didn’t join her on the grass. “How long has he been in foster care?”

      “Off and on most of his life. His mother has mental health issues.” Haley plucked a dandelion blossom and stuck the bright yellow flower behind one ear. “When she’s well, she’s a good mother. She’s also wise enough to know when she’s going downhill.”

      “What do you mean?”

      A bumblebee buzzed past. Haley gently waved her hand to send it on its way. “She forgets to feed him, forgets he’s even there, so she calls social services to pick him up.”

      Creed whistled softly and turned a thoughtful gaze to the boy. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Must be tough.”

      “He’s strong about it.” So far. “He misses his mom, but he’s seen her spiral downward. Her illness scares him. He worries about her.”

      “A kid shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

      “Mental illness isn’t a choice, Creed. His mother can’t help being sick.” But sometimes Haley wondered why a good God didn’t change things. Why people had to suffer. Why children were tossed in and out of the social system. Why some mothers’ needs were more important than their children’s. Foolish thoughts. Life was just that way. Good today and bad tomorrow.

      She yanked another dandelion. “Did you know these are edible?” she said, more to stop thinking than because she cared to share her knowledge of dandelions.

      His expression was amused. “Yum.”

      “No, I’m serious. The lowly dandelion is one of the most useful plants God created.”

      “Really?” He dipped his head and looked at her from beneath raised eyebrows.

      She

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