Free My Lucky Stars by Michele Paige Holmes Page B

have a great house and meet new friends. Cadie—” He leaned close, his eyes level with hers. “You have a great life. You have all those people and animals who love you, plus you know who loves you most of all—don’t you?”
    “Heavenly Father and Jesus.” Her immediate answer surprised Tara.
    Why would anyone teach their kid that some unseen being loves her more than her own parents?
    Ben picked her up. “You’re a smart cookie.”
    She giggled. “I’m not a cookie.”
    He sniffed her hair. “Nope. You aren’t.” He carried her over to her sleeping bag. “But you are a princess, a real daughter of God. Here and in Denver.”
    You tell her that now and when she grows up and realizes she’s just a regular person, you’re going to have trouble. Tara shifted uncomfortably and averted her gaze as they drew closer.
    Ben set Cadie beside her sleeping bag then unzipped the side and helped her climb in.
    “Heavenly Father knows you and loves you, Cadie. He’ll help you. He’s always here, even when your dad isn’t.”
    Oh, please. Tara rolled her eyes.
    “I know Heavenly Father loves me,” Cadie said matter-of-factly, a grin on her face as she reached up to pat Ben’s cheeks.
    “That makes you much more blessed than a lot of people, than your mother and I were at your age.” Ben bent over, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You have it all.” He leaned back, still on his knees beside her. “And you ought to thank your lucky stars.”

Nine
    Ellen slid the van door shut, partially drowning out the sound of her crying toddler. “It’s your choice,” she said, giving Tara an apologetic smile. “You can come with me and Sam and the dogs and the bunny and the fish and the screaming baby—or you can ride with Cadie, the hermit crab, and my insensitive brother.”
    Tara stared, bleary-eyed, through the van window. “Some choice,” she said, though she couldn’t help but return Ellen’s smile. Ellen was a genuinely nice person. Too bad for her, she’s surrounded by the rest of us. Tara included herself on the list of those who were likely a pain for Ellen. After yesterday’s disastrous shopping trip, Ellen had played referee between her and Ben the remainder of the evening, providing a nice buffer during the stilted conversations and awkward silences. Fortunately, Ellen had taken Tara’s side and given Ben a good scolding for taking her shopping at a thrift store.
    “How long do you think she’ll cry like that?” Tara asked, peering at the little girl pulling at her car seat straps and screaming her lungs out.
    “Chloe’s record is two hours, eleven minutes. She hates the car—a lot of eighteen-month-olds do. But she’s also cutting two molars right now, so it could be longer. I’m thinking I need to look up crying in Guinness and see if I might have a world record contender on my hands.”
    Tara wondered how Ellen could be so lighthearted when looking forward to two or more hours with a screaming child. She knew she certainly couldn’t. She couldn’t handle much of anything right now, tired as she was. For the second night in a row she’d had virtually no sleep. A screaming kid would drive her nuts.
    “In that case, I guess I’m going to have to choose the truck and Ben. I’m not very good with little kids.” Any kids. The thought of sitting beside Cadie wasn’t appealing either.
    “Good luck,” Ellen said. With a farewell wave, she walked around to the driver’s side and climbed into the van. Tara turned toward the truck. Ben’s gaze met hers through the windshield as she looked up. He was obviously wishing she’d chosen to drive with Ellen.
    I know—how about Ben takes all the kids and pets in the van, and Ellen and I drive the truck? It was a brilliant thought and made Tara smile for a half-second before she realized Ellen would never go for it. She was the kindest, most attentive mother Tara had ever seen, and even if her children were jumping on the furniture, covered