“Enough, Micha,” Jane whispered. “No throwing. Be good.”
Micha started to squirm in Colt’s lap, so he scooted over and put her down on the seat between himself and Jane. Jane smiled, and then scooted further over, putting Suzie down on the bench next to her sister. Jane felt far away, and Colt slid his arm along the back of the pew just to be more comfortable. His finger came to rest against her shoulder and he froze. Was that too much?
Jane didn’t seem to notice his touch, so he didn’t move. She handed out more Cheerios to the girls and when Micha looked ready to throw one, Jane raised a finger and eyed her meaningfully. The little girl popped the Cheerio in her mouth instead and smiled sweetly.
Colt couldn’t help but chuckle silently. This kid—she was a handful!
The sermon that Sunday was about the prodigal son—strangely appropriate. Except the Marshall prodigal son never had returned. If he hadn’t died, would he have come back eventually? Maybe Josh would have made it home before Beau died. Because knowing Jane like he did now, she seemed like the kind of woman Josh would have needed—strong, soft, convinced about what was right.
But Josh hadn’t lived, and she’d returned in his place.
Colt smelled something, and he looked over at Jane with a half smile. She grimaced, leaned down to sniff between the two girls and picked up Suzie.
“I have to change her,” Jane whispered. “Can you just watch Micha for me? I won’t be long.”
“Yeah, sure.” He said it before he’d even thought about it, and by the time he thought twice, Jane was already standing up and grabbing the cloth bag. She slipped past his knees, her pink dress catching on his jeans as she slid by. Micha looked after her mother, and her lip started to quiver.
“It’s okay,” Colt whispered. “Mommy’s coming back in a minute.”
Micha leaned forward, watching as Jane disappeared out the swinging doors that led into the church foyer, then she sighed and picked up her cup of Cheerios again. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all. He glanced instinctively toward the door where Jane had disappeared.
“Mommy,” Micha said, her voice rising. “Mommy?”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Colt whispered and he scooped her up and sat her onto his knee. “She’s coming right back, Micha. Okay? Watch that door. She’ll come right back.”
Micha looked toward the door, then squirmed hard enough that Colt just about dropped her. This little girl didn’t seem pleased about sitting here and waiting, but as long as he could keep her quiet he’d be fine. So he reached for the cup of Cheerios, but as he did, Micha squirmed once more, slipped from his grasp and her feet hit the ground running.
He’d never seen a kid move so fast in his life, but instead of heading for the doors where her mother had gone, Micha dashed up the aisle toward the pulpit. Colt’s heart dropped. His gaze whipped between the door where Jane had vanished and then up toward that curly head of red hair that was bobbing past the pews and he slipped out of his seat. Ducking low, he dashed after her.
There was a ripple of laughter through the church as Micha got to the front, tipped her head back and gaped up at the pastor. She stood with her little legs akimbo and a handful of Cheerios clutched in one hand.
“...as the prodigal son...” The old minister stopped and looked down at his new arrival. “...as the prodigal... Hello, miss.”
Colt arrived at that moment, and just before he could snatch her up, Micha zipped to the side and he was forced to jog after her, scooping her up a moment later. Micha let out a whoop of delight at this new, fun game, and Colt felt the heat of embarrassment blasting in his face. He stood there in front of the church, every single eye locked on him with this redheaded little girl perched in his arms. The fight seemed to have gone out of her, because instead of squirming and hollering like he expected, Micha took a single Cheerio between her fingers and pushed it between his lips.
“Num num,” Micha said quietly. “Wanna Cheerio?”
Colt tried to keep his lips closed, but Micha was persistent, working that single Cheerio between his lips with a determination that was impossible to beat, and he finally took the Cheerio and grudgingly gave it a chew.
“Yummy,” Micha whispered sweetly, seeming to approve.
“We’ve got a prodigal toddler there,” the pastor quipped, and the church laughed. “And like a good father, Colt was there to catch her before it was too late. God is a loving father, a good shepherd. He doesn’t just give us up. Can I get an ‘amen,’ church?”
“Amen!” they called out.
“You’re a good man, Colt,” the minister said with a low laugh. “Faster than a greased piglet at that age, aren’t they?”
“Sure are,” Colt said, heading back down the aisle and wishing he could just sink into the floorboards instead. The other parishioners looked over at him, smiles on their faces. The older men chuckled in good humor, and Colt felt a wave of goodwill from his church family that he’d never experienced before. It was camaraderie, community, support. Was this what other people felt like when they had a family? The church all knew he was single, but it was funny how stepping into the expected role could generate so much support
