Free Her Unexpected Family by Ruth Logan Herne Page A

ignored her, talking quietly.
    She stared across the room where Emily had left her cymbals at the edge of the couch, an invitation to join the band if ever there was one. She crawled over, head down, determined, and when she got to the couch, she pulled herself up and grabbed the cymbals.
    Emily reached for Grant’s hand. “I think she’s going to do it.”
    â€œYou think?” Grant whispered the words close to her cheek, close enough to feather her hair with coffee-scented breath. “How—?”
    He stopped talking as Dolly clapped her cymbals together twice in a row, and then took a tiny step forward. “Ding!” She yelled the word, paused, banged her cymbals and took another tiny step. “Ding! Ding!”
    Timmy didn’t notice. He was too busy marching and tooting.
    â€œDing!” She yelled it again, but as she took another step forward, she almost giggled. “Ding!” Step. “Ding!” Step. “Ding! Ding!” Step. Step. Step.
    And now Timmy noticed. His hazel eyes went wide and he tooted his horn and pointed. “Dowwy, good! Dowwy, good! Yay!”
    Grant stayed silent and still behind Emily, and for a few seconds she thought he was upset or angry. Then she turned.
    Damp-eyed, he watched his little girl as she tried to follow her more adept brother around the room. She couldn’t keep up, but it didn’t matter. Tim marched around the outer perimeter, leading his imaginary band. Dolly made a much smaller circle in the middle, but she was walking, all by herself, and playing with her brother.
    â€œHow’d you know what to do?” Grant whispered. His gruff voice sounded emotional and not a little chagrined. “Has she been fooling me like her occupational therapist has suggested?”
    â€œTherapist-1, Grant-0,” Emily replied, just as soft. “Her good looks inspire people to take care of her. But of course, in the end, that doesn’t do her any good because you want her to be as independent as she possibly can be. To shoot for the stars.”
    â€œAnd have her chronically disappointed?”
    Emily snorted, then laughed at his expression. “Listen, Mr. Glass-Half-Empty, struggle builds character and character builds strength. With her problems, she’s going to need to be as strong as possible. Your job is to see she gets that way, even if you have to wipe a few tears.”
    â€œI hate seeing her cry,” he told her.
    â€œI meant your tears,” she teased, laughing, and jabbed his arm gently. “Letting go is tough. But necessary. Absolutely, positively necessary.”

Chapter Six
    O thers had said similar things. Several times, in fact. Why did he finally listen when it came from Emily? What was it about her that made sense? She might not be an expert, but somehow, her opinion mattered. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d promised her lunch and it was almost twelve thirty. “We should do lunch, shouldn’t we?”
    â€œWhat time are their naps?”
    â€œIn about an hour.”
    She nodded. “Then yes, and if you won’t be insulted, you can make food while I load the dishwasher. Four hands go faster than two, and it’s anybody’s guess how long we have.” Her quick glance into the front room indicated the toddlers.
    â€œTrue enough. And pizza’s okay?”
    â€œWay better than okay. Especially if it’s homemade.”
    â€œOne of my few culinary talents. That and red sauce. I should have been born Italian, but Irish and German won the day.”
    â€œI’m a Gallagher, so Irish works for me, Grant.” She filled the top rack with sippy cups and coffee mugs and tiny bowls. “I’ve chatted with Christa over the computer, and next Tuesday morning at ten seems like the best time.”
    â€œI can’t deny being a little intimidated by the thought of going to a bridal store—”
    â€œSalon.”
    â€œBridal salon,”