Free Letting Go by Mary Beth Lee

saying. You laugh with them and hug them, and if they need reproof, you gently steer them in a new direction. When that one little boy went running into the pile of debris near Pete’s, you didn't yell at him, you asked him to come over and play Red Rover. You have a gift."
    His words warmed her, made her hurt so bad she almost couldn't breathe. But she couldn't tell him that. Instead she tried to tease. "So what you're saying is I'm childish?"
    He surprised her by agreeing. "Maybe there is some of that. When you're with them it's like you miss being a kid."
    She bit her tongue to keep from saying I Never Got The Chance. It hurt so bad. How had he seen that in her? His astuteness scared her.
    She didn't say any of that.  
    "I definitely don't miss being a kid. Not one little bit." She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice even though she’d thought she was over the darkness of the past. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from. I just..." she trailed off and then sent the conversation back to him, praying he wouldn't go all deep, prying, talk show host on her.
    "Sooooo, you see all these great qualities in me and...."
    He studied her face for a long time before answering.
    "And that makes me wonder if you'd be willing to help out long-term with the kids at the church while it's being used as a shelter."
    Maybe he saw her objections, or maybe, like his mother, he just liked to get his way, but he kept talking, offering reasons why she couldn't say no.
    "You can't work at Pete's now. No telling when he'll open up again, and if you stick around the ranch every day, you'll be interrogated by my mom eventually, and I'm going to bring Mack into town tomorrow so she can do her part."
    "Her part?" The town was dangerous and devastated, and people's whole lives were lost. Was he crazy? "She's five. What can she do?"
    He didn't seem a bit concerned, just ate a fry and kept talking like it was no big deal.
    "She can be Mack. Have fun, play, pray with kids, just be herself. Those kids we saw in town today need someone other than the prettiest waitress in Stearns playing with them."
    Color suffused her cheeks at his compliment. She was ridiculous. Like a stupid kid. Why did Jed Dillon have to be so nice?  
    "So back to what I was thinking," he said, not even realizing there was an awkward pause. “You’d be great with the kids, and I think the parents would really appreciate it.”
    Yeah. Until Joan Anderson got ahold of them.  
    Clarissa pushed away the thought because as she listened to Jed speak, she realized she wanted to follow his suggestion. She couldn’t believe how badly she wanted to become part of Stearns and the people who lived there. To put down roots for a change instead of tumbling through life headlong. Especially now.
    But... “I don’t know, Jed. I didn’t have much, but what I did have was in that apartment.”
    “This is your chance to depend on others for a change,” he said. “I get the impression you haven’t done that often.”
    Her heart fell to her toes. How did he know her biggest fears? Ridiculous. “You don’t really know me,” she said because she wanted to get him to back off. Way, way off.
    But he didn’t see her words as rebuff.  
    “You’re right. I don’t know you, but you’re pretty much an open book on that one.”
    No possible way. Not ever again. “Look, you’re a nice guy.”
    He laughed. “I get that a lot, but not usually in this situation.”
    She blew out a long breath and tried to change the subject.  
    “You know, I thought you were all dark and dreary and demanding. I didn’t think you even knew how to have fun. But you’re different today.”
    A dark spark flitted across his eyes at her words, and she almost regretted them.
    “I’m none of those things,” he said. “I just see that you could be good for Stearns, and I thought maybe you’d want the chance to see if the city could be good for you.”
    With that he dug a twenty out of his wallet