“That’s what I like to hear.”
Natalie liked him. Flynn obviously liked her.
She squeezed her eyes tight shut. She hadn’t counted on liking Emily’s dad in that sort of way. In fact, it was the last thing she thought would happen. And now it looked like he was going to ask her out.
Maybe she should be honest with him. Tell him who she really was but insist he not tell his daughter about Natalie’s true identity until she was ready.
No, she couldn’t do it.
She realized now that she needed to get to know both of them much better before springing that sort of thing on them. Putting the car into the ditch might have been for the best. No one could walk up to someone’s house, knock on their door, and say surprise I’m your birth mother.
She glanced at the clock on the car’s dashboard. She’d told Flynn she’d drive back to their place at 6:00 p.m. for dinner. She had mixed emotions about it. Fear that she’d give herself away and blurt out the truth. Emily would hate her and she’d go home a broken person. Nope, she had to keep it together. The more they go to know each other, the easier it would be for everyone when she revealed who she was.
Turning into the driveway, she spotted another truck besides Flynn’s parked there. She turned off the ignition and took two deep breaths, the way she often did when she was preparing to make a court appearance on behalf of one of her clients. Actually, she didn’t know what was worse. Going inside, getting involved deeper in their lives, or speaking to a judge. Right now it seemed the former.
Natalie got out of the car before she chickened out completely and headed back to the safety of her motel. She walked to the front door thinking that it wasn’t only Emily she was excited about seeing again, but Flynn too.
She rang the bell and a man that looked like him, but a little older, answered it.
“Hi, you must be Natalie. I’m Rory, Flynn’s brother. Come on in”
He stuck out his hand and she shook it. He had a firm grip and calloused hands that felt a lot like Flynn’s.
“He’s just putting the finishing touches to the dinner.”
Natalie followed him through to the kitchen where Flynn was adding lettuce to a large glass bowl.
“Hi,” he said turning and smiling.
“Hi. Anything I can help you with?”
“No, I think I have it all under control.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” asked Rory.
“A soda would be great.”
“Let’s see I think we have orange or lime.”
“Lime’s perfect.”
Natalie looked around but didn’t see or hear Emily.
“Emily not helping you out?”
Flynn shook his head. “She’s having a time out until dinner’s ready. She had what I call one of her moments.”
Rory handed her the soda. She took it and perched herself up on the bar stool, watching Flynn slice tomatoes for the salad. “One of her moments?” asked Natalie. She hoped he wasn’t referring to anything that was physically wrong with her. That would break her heart to think her baby was suffering in any way.
“One of the kids at school knocked paint over Emily’s skirt and well, she’s a wonderful kid, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes she has a short fuse and I had to go pick her up and she screamed the whole way home. She then threw her shoes against the wall when we got into the house.”
Natalie bit her lip. One thing she’d read online about Down syndrome was that some children got frustrated in certain situations. Raising Emily all by himself couldn’t have been easy for Flynn.
“In fact, Rory, why don’t you go fetch her now we’re ready to eat. Natalie you want to sit over there.” He pointed to the table that sat in front of the window.
Natalie stood, walked over to it and sat. She saw Rory turning the corner of the kitchen with Emily in tow.
“Hi Emily,” said Natalie.
“Hi.” She slid into the seat opposite her and folded her arms over her chest with a distant pout. “Can I come back to the motel with you?”
Natalie looked up, thrown by the request. Oh how she’d loved to have her do that. The two of them together. Her getting to know her daughter.
“I’m the bad daddy tonight,” said Flynn, setting down a platter of what looked like homemade, and perfectly grilled hamburgers, in the middle of the table.
“You wouldn’t let me see my calf,” she said pointing to him. She stomped her foot and it shook the table.
“Hey, hey, young lady. Continue like that and you’ll be eating your supper alone in your room. And what will Natalie think about you?”
I’d love her no matter what she did.
Flynn brought over some buns and a basket of French fries while Rory carried ketchup and steak sauce to the table and both men sat.