Page 7 of Her Honorable Hero

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Miranda couldn’t eat muchat dinner, her stomach was too fluttery. But the little she had eaten sat like a lump. Please God, say she’d make it through this last little bit.

There were too many people to contain inside the house, but Leslie had cleverly arranged things so that the living room and deck were one great big space with the French doors flung open. It really was an extraordinary home. She’d even arranged for a mini stage that Hope and Jeremy could make themselves comfortable on. It was elevated enough so that even if the children sat down on the two chairs provided, everyone could see them easily.

Where was Griffin?

“Randa! Daddy, come here.” Hope shouted. Her little voice reverberated around the room. Shit, Leslie even had the little girl mic’d. Miranda stood frozen. She felt beads of sweat pop on her forehead as she plastered a fake smile on her face. The only good thing was that she had used the world’s best deodorant and her dress was dark, otherwise everybody would know she was a nervous, sweaty mess.

“I’ve got you,” Griff whispered softly against her temple as his arm slid around her waist. “It’s going to be okay.”

With him beside her, it would be somewhat better, but it would take a hell of a lot for it to hit the ‘okay’ level.

“Let’s do this.” She looked up at him. She saw his frown when he saw her pseudo-smile.

“Randa. Hurry.”

She took a step forward, but Griff stilled her progress. “One last thing.” He cupped her cheek, and feathered his thumb over her bottom lip. Then her man with the chocolate eyes bent down and touched his lips against hers. His kiss was reverent, a solemn moment between the two of them. Miranda trembled, his tender caress gave her courage.

“I’ve got this,” she said. She started to believe it.

“Jeremy, them’s kissin’,” Hope whispered. But her whisper was heard all the way out to the people at the back of the deck, and Miranda closed her eyes and groaned at the laughter.

“Your subjects await, M’Lady,” Griff grinned down at her. He gently nudged her forward and people parted as they made their way to the front of the great room.

“You two stand next to Mom and Dad,” Hope pointed. It was cute seeing the miniature Susan with her long brown curls and pink velvet dress, directing traffic. Jeremy just watched on, his look both indulgent and long-suffering. He was a good big brother. He always had been.

Miranda leaned into Griff’s powerful frame and smiled up at the children. Hope was clutching one of those huge pieces of lined paper from grade school in one hand, and waving at her with her other.

Miranda waved back.

“I wrote a story. Jeremy helped me.” Hope’s lisp was adorable, but Miranda wondered how much of the story she was really going to be able to read, since she was only five.

“Jeremy. Hold the story, so I can read.” The little girl thrust the stapled papers at her brother’s chest and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. He held up the paper at Hope’s eye level, and the smart boy managed to position it so that his sister’s smile was facing the audience.

Hope cleared her throat, and peered around the room.

“I named this story, Heroes.” She grinned and pointed at Miranda. “She’s a hero.” Then her arm swung and she pointed to Mike Thompson. “So’s my new Daddy. He’s a hero, too. There’s more. But them two’s the biggest. I’m goin’ to ‘splain.”

Miranda saw the pride shining off the little girl, and it was so contrary to what she was feeling. She wanted a big hole to appear under her and swallow her up. She peeked over at Mike to see if he was as embarrassed as she was, but he was beaming up at his two stepchildren. His delight in them was palpable.

“A long, long time ago, Mommy took me and Jeremy on a train ride. It was a long, long ride.”

“That part’s not in the story,” Jeremy whispered.

“But it was a long ride.” Hope said as she pulled down on her pink dress. Then she bent down and adjusted the heel of her black patent Mary Jane shoe, which caused her dress to ride up again. She carefully pulled down her dress, then pushed the curls away from her face with both hands.

“Where was I?” she asked her brother.

“You said it was a long ride,” he pointed to a point on the paper. “You need to start here. It says—”

“I know. I mem-rized.” She turned and faced everyone again and waved. “Jeremy helped. He wrote down the words, and I practiced them. Okay.” She thrust out her little hands and bent her knees. “It gets scary now.” She wasn’t looking at her brother or the paper anymore.

Miranda was getting caught up in the little girl’s performance.

“The train crashed. It made a big noise and everything turned black. Nobody could see.” She bent down even lower, her eyes wide. She flattened her hands and aimed them at the floor. “Jeremy got losted from Mommy, and Mommy got hurt. Jeremy was scared because he couldn’t find her.”

The paper in Jeremy’s hand trembled. Miranda looked at the boy and saw that his face was pale. She remembered that terrifying moment when she woke up to darkness, when it was just her and Jeremy trapped under the train seat.