A Mom for Callie by Laura Bradford Page B

changed?”
    â€œ She did,” Kyle hissed.
    â€œHow?”
    â€œShe took off the mask.”
    â€œMask?”
    â€œHell yeah.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œShe talks a good game, but when push comes to shove she has no use for a town the size of Cedar Creek.”
    Tom snorted. “Give me a break, Kyle. She chose to write here, didn’t she?”
    â€œMaybe. But this isn’t her home.”
    â€œI don’t know what’s eating at you, dude, but you need to chill out.”
    He stopped, stared at Tom for a moment, and then headed back toward the door, his hand stilling on the knob just long enough to utter a single sentence in response. “The only thing I need to do is keep my daughter away from that woman—far, far away.”
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    B ETSY STARED AT THE BLINKING cursor in the top left corner of her still-empty screen, unable to think of asingle word. All night long she’d tossed and turned, her latest encounter with Kyle making a continuous loop through her thoughts, the memory of her rude behavior broken only by images of their kiss and the details behind the demise of his marriage to Callie’s mother.
    She could pinpoint, with absolute clarity, the moment she’d pushed him away. By emphasizing she belonged in New York, she’d likened herself to Kyle Brennan’s ex-wife—a woman who thought Cedar Creek was nothing more than a mere stumbling block to a better life.
    Betsy rose from her chair and wandered to the window that overlooked Kyle’s house. She could still see the look on his face as if she’d slapped him with her words. And she cringed at the memory of Callie’s surprise as her father jerked the order form from Betsy’s hand and ushered her away.
    She’d been wrong. She knew that now. Not about her feelings where Kyle’s profession was concerned but, rather, in the way she’d cut him off, making it sound as if Cedar Creek was merely dirt on the bottom of her shoes. She liked this town, liked the people she’d met so far. And she especially liked Kyle and his daughter, Callie.
    Determined to make amends at least as far as her rudeness went, Betsy stepped outside and headed in the direction of Callie’s house.
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    â€œT HIS ONE’S ABOUT THE SUN . And the way it makes me happy when it lights up the sky.” Callie began reading from the paper in her hand, a wrinkled page covered in large, careful handwriting. When she was finished, she looked up at Betsy. “Did you like that one, too?”
    Betsy smiled as she tucked her legs underneath herbody on the wicker settee. “It was wonderful. I liked the way you referred to the sun as the big warm circle in the sky. Very nice, Callie.”
    The little girl beamed as she set her paper on top of the pile of similarly wrinkled papers between them. “I’ve got one more…this one’s ’bout my grandma because I don’t have a mom—not really, anyway. And my teacher said we had to write one about someone special to us.”
    â€œWhat about your dad?”
    â€œMy teacher said it could only be half a page. My dad would take up more than that.”
    Her throat constricted as the little girl’s earnest words took root in her heart. If Callie felt a sense of loss at not having a mother, it didn’t show. “You could write one now if you wanted.”
    â€œYou mean, outside of school?”
    The surprise in Callie’s voice made Betsy laugh. “Of course. All you need is paper and a pencil, right?”
    â€œRight!”
    â€œAnd after you write it, we could put all of these—” Betsy lifted the pile of poems into the air then set them back down “—into a little booklet.”
    â€œCould we make a cover? So it looks like a real book?” Callie asked, her eyes large.
    â€œA book of poetry— your poetry.”
    Callie pointed at the stack of poems she’d read to Betsy. “Could I