12 #3
Did others, besides Addie and Tanner, really see him that way? He thought of Tony, the customer from earlier, who’d wanted
to stand around and chat. He’d offered a lot of compliments on Kam’s welding skills, especially with metal fabrication. He
could do things others couldn’t, basically build a part needed for an engine, as he’d done for Tony’s antique tractor.
That didn’t make him a good man, though. It just made him good with his hands. Of course, thinking of his hands had him thinking
of Glory . . . and a text came in.
He glanced at the screen, saw it was her, and swiped to open the phone.
FYI, doing great. PB is awesome. Callie visiting. All is well. Have fun he needed to ensure Kirby and his sister were safe.
And then he needed to get his hands on Mike so he could make the bastard pay.
Glory was in the backyard with PB and flinching only a little as the dog tried to race back and forth, each time running out
of leash. Liam and Nell hadn’t yet been over to create the run, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed this time with her dog-ter.
Plus, since Callie had left only a few minutes earlier, Glory had the opportunity to test herself—without witnesses—to see
what she could accomplish.
Apparently, not much, but hey, she was outside in the fresh air, she had her dog with her, and Kam was living his life instead
of playing babysitter. The twinges of pain were insignificant compared to the things that were going right.
“Oh, dear God.”
Recognizing that voice, Glory turned to her neighbor’s house. How was it that Glenda Simmons was always outside to see her, whether she was leaving, returning, or in this case, walking her dog.
She couldn’t wave because she held the leash in her right hand. Actually, she couldn’t do much of anything except smile her
gruesome smile and say, “Hello, Mrs. Simmons. How are you?”
“What in the world happened to you?”
Subtlety wasn’t Nosy Old Lady Simmons’s forte. “I was in a car wreck. Totaled my beautiful little Mustang.”
To her complete and utter shock, Simmons hiked up her housedress and deftly climbed over the low fence that enclosed her yard.
Glory couldn’t blink. She couldn’t even get her mouth to close. “Um . . .”
“Country girl, you know. Been climbing fences all my life.”
“But aren’t you . . .” Old.
Simmons chuckled. “In my seventies? Yes, I am. Lived here for forty years and I’ve gone over the fence plenty of times.
” Slowly, Simmons knelt down to greet PB.
“Aren’t you a cutie? I used to have a little rat like you.
” Glancing up at Glory, she said, “That’s one reason for fence-climbing.
Had to retrieve my Scottie a few times. That’s his name, not the breed. ”
“Scottie? How cute. This is PB, short for Peanut Butter. She’s my dog-ter.” Explaining before Simmons asked, Glory said, “As
in dog-daughter. Dog-ter.”
“Oh, I love that. How sweet.” Even more slowly, Simmons got upright again. “That right there, kneeling and standing again?
Way harder than getting over a fence.”
“Well, as you can see, I can’t do either right now.”
“I see you’re stiff as an ironing board. Hurt your back?”
“My ribs, actually, and one shoulder.” She rushed to add, “I’ll be fine, and I’m already feeling better, but family . . .”
It struck her then: They truly were all family, or same as. Callie, definitely, but now Tanner and Addie, too. And Liz.
Kam. Kam was everything.
Simmons smiled at her. “Those blessings have a tendency to hover, don’t they?”
“They really are blessings.” She said it as much to herself as to her neighbor.