says that her writing is her escape valve from a life that leaves little time for recreation or hobbies. With a husband and six children, Terry works on her stories a little at a time, between seeing to her children’s piano, cello and oboe lessons, their baseball and swim team practices, and her own activities of leading a Girl Scout troop and participating in a car pool. Her ideas, she says, come from her imagination and her life—neither one of which is lacking!

Dear Todd,

When you first came to live with me, I didn’t have a clue about fatherhood. And you weren’t much help either, being an eighteen-month-old with a limited vocabulary. Thank God for Rachel, huh? We were a couple of sorry cases until she came along.

I’ll always be grateful that when I crashed the wagon I was pulling you in, we were on Rachel’s front lawn and she came out to check out our injuries. Do you realize how many variables had to fall perfectly into place for things to have worked out the way they did? Talk about fate.

So you better be on your best behavior, kid, ‘cause I can’t do this parenthood thing alone. I mean, Rachel thinks you’re cute as a button, but that doesn’t mean she wants to spend her free time with a drooling toddler and a dad-in-training who just recently recovered from Teething 101.

So remember—no crying when Rachel comes over. And maybe Uncle Daniel will get a kiss….

Love,

Daniel

“My, oh my, would you look at that,” Rachel Gatlin commented as she propped her hip on the windowsill of her new apartment. Touching her cheek to the glass so she could get a better view down the street, she repeated, “My, oh my.”

Her sister, Eileen, on the other end of the phone and across town had no such opportunity to take in the view. “I hate it when you do that,” she informed Rachel. “Who’s there? What are you looking at? Tell me,” she commanded firmly. “It isn’t anything gross, is it? We should have done a better job of checking out that neighborhood before you signed the lease. I knew it.”

Gross? Not so’s you’d notice, Rachel thought before responding. The scene captivating her attention was anything but disgusting. “There’s this really cute guy, and I mean really cute guy—not that I’m swayed by externals any longer, you understand. Next time I’m going for substance—anyway, this really, really cute guy is coming down the block pulling a little red wagon loaded with two bags of groceries and a screaming toddler.” She paused, studying both man and child. “It’s so much funnier when it’s somebody else’s screaming toddler, isn’t it? And I just love it when the macho manly types have to play Mr. Mom and find out what it’s all about.”

“Yeah, I do, too. Hmm, did you say really, really cute? Two reallies worth of cute? Let’s think about this, Rachel. This could be your golden opportunity to start meeting the neighbors,” Eileen said, and Rachel could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning through the phone line. “Sooo,” she continued, “instead of sitting there admiring his body from a distance and gloating, why don’t you run down there and throw yourself in front of the wagon? Introduce yourself and promise not to sue if he’s willing to kiss you and make your owies all better.”

Rachel snorted inelegantly as she continued to watch the unfolding scene below. Mr. Macho had stopped the wagon in front of the two-flat next to hers. Little One had been trying to stand up. Looked like a boy from here. He was now being firmly placed back down on his little bottom. Even from two stories up, Rachel could see that the power struggle between adult and child was causing the grocery bags to list and the wagon to wobble a bit. She wanted to open the window and warn him of the impending disaster, but managed to refrain. One shouldn’t interfere in a domestic squabble, she reminded herself. Too dangerous—especially a battle of the wills involving a toddler.

“Maybe next time,” Rachel said noncommittally. “They’re already moving on, anyway.” Besides, the guy was probably married. He was out there with a kid, wasn’t he? And nobody with a backside like that—he was walking backward now in order to keep his eye on the child, so she was in a position to judge and it was good…Really good…Really, really good—could have survived all that long without somebody claiming him somewhere along the line. Rachel sucked in her breath. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to go, Eileen. Handsome just tripped over a big wheel he didn’t see. He’s flat on the ground right underneath my living room window.” She felt an odd sense of gladness that she was being forced to act. Rachel didn’t care to examine the feeling too carefully. It was simply an opportunity to meet a neighbor while performing a corporal work of mercy, that was all. It had nothing to do with his fantastic butt nor those exceptionally fine shoulders that were almost as wide as the strip of sidewalk he currently covered. She was immune to that kind of thing now.