and hot when he rolled out of bed. If Myrt had her way, she’d feed them a banquet breakfast every day, and it was only when Vanna had shared her worries about Truck’s diet that Myrt had slacked off on her over-the-top efforts. Now cut fruit was as likely to make an appearance as a ham and cheese omelet, which Vanna appreciated far more than Truck did.
Days like today, when the two women worked together for a common goal, were some of the best. Vanna hadn’t enjoyed a companion like this in a long time.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans, and she slung the towel she was working on over her shoulder, digging the device out. She tapped the icon to accept the call, and a woman’s image lit up the screen, a broad smile on her face as she cradled her youngest child against her shoulder.
Sharon had come into her life much as Myrtle had—caught up in desperate need, filled with terror at having experienced the worst of humankind. As with Myrt, Sharon had lived with Vanna, sharing the house with Kitt, Vanna’s son. That had been before Truck, and the profound changes he’d wrought in Vanna’s life. It had also been before Gunny had found Sharon, latching on like she was the most precious thing he’d ever known. They saved each other.
“Vanna Mom!” Girlish shrieks came from the background, and Vanna could see the tops of Sharon’s two daughters bumping up and down. From the corner of her eye, she saw Myrt’s head lift quickly as the girl stopped in place, a wave of surprise rushing across her face.
“Cade and Kitten, I can scarcely see you girls. Where are you?”
Sharon rolled her eyes, and the video jittered before she stopped trying to push the girls away. “Stop it now, kiddos. Josh, get down, buddy. Time to go play in the backyard. There are bugs there, remember?” The little boy whose cheek rested on her shoulder shook his head back and forth, snuggling in tighter against her neck. “Vanna, I wanted to talk, but this is just…ugh.” Sharon blew bangs off her forehead with a stream of air. “I’ll call you back?”
“No, just hand the phone to Cade. Let me talk to the girls for a minute, then I’ll get her to bring it back. That’ll give you a minute to see why Josh boy doesn’t wanna go hunt for bugs. Tell him Vanna Mom’s worried about her boy. Bugs are a big deal.”
“Okay, give me half a sec—” Sharon turned away from the phone, her brows drawn together. “Cade, can you take—no, Kitten, Cade’s going to hold the phone. Stop. Cade, can you please—?” The view changed from Sharon’s profile to a close-up of a girl no more than ten years old. This was Cadence, Sharon and Gunny’s oldest. Katherine was two years younger, followed by Joshua a year later. Cade, Kitten, and Josh were the light of Vanna’s life, and she loved the kids as if she were their blood grandmother, instead of an adopted one.
“Girls, oh my goodness. I swear you grow inches between every time I get to see you. And look at that pretty tattoo. Does Daddy know you’ve got a cartoon on your cheek? It’s gorgeous. Both of you are my little sweethearts.” She kept up the quick and engaging patter, tag-teaming the girls effectively while in the background she could hear Sharon talking to Josh. After catching up on the outcome of an earthworm experiment (turned out the children had found out captured earthworms could escape a bowl if left unguarded overnight), listening to them sing her an off-tune rendition of a popular country song, and soaking up the excitement of seeing her girls again, Vanna gently guided the interactions back around to the girls’ mother, and a few minutes later the phone was returned to Sharon’s hands. Sans Josh, who now seemed to be off chasing his sisters through the backyard, accompanied by the bright barks and low woofs of Sharon and Gunny’s pack of dogs.
“Whew.” Sharon puffed her bangs up as she walked into the shade next to the house and sat where she could watch out over the backyard. The home and terrain were familiar to Vanna, her many visits over the years giving her a good sense of things. “That was chaotic to the extreme.”
“What was up with Josh?” Vanna studied Sharon’s face, noting the fatigue etched in the tiny lines