Not much use against the dark-eyed, tousle-haired stranger staring up at me from the nest of hay he’d made in the corner of the stall. Cheeks flush...d, eyes narrowed, and heart pounding, I darted for the shovel I’d left leaning against the pigpen, only to come to a stop when his hand covered mine at the top of the chest-high stall door. It was the coldness of his fingers, as much as the warmth of his eyes, that made me hesitate. Looking closely at him, I took in his sweatshirt, jeans, and. They needed me. If there was an Olympics for mothering, my Mom would represent the US and take the gold. She’s the best person I know. Until recently, I’d put someone else on the same pedestal, but as you’ll see, things changed the last week.Mr. Schmidt saw through my little act. I tried to put a brave face on things and pretend that I didn’t care that my father left, and I was fine. Mr. Schmidt knew what I needed better than I did. He coached my little league team, took me fishing, talked to. More

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