Rainy smiled at the child. “Yes, there is. But right now, Mr. Del Rio needs to get in here to fix the washer. It’s a little crowded for all of us.” She was right about that. The space was no bigger than a small bathroom. “Can I get you to take the babies to the playpen while I show him around?”

“I’ll take them, Miss Rainy.” An older boy with a serious face and brown plastic glasses entered the room. Treading carefully, he came forward and took both babies, holding them against his slight chest. Another child appeared behind him, this one a girl with very blond hair and eyes the exact blue of the boy she’d called Joshua. How many children did this woman have, anyway? Six?

A heavy, smothery feeling pressed against his airway. Six kids?

Before he could dwell on that disturbing thought, a scream of sonic proportions rent the soap-fragrant air. He whipped around, ready to protect and defend.

The little blond girl and the redhead were going at it.

“It’s mine.” Blondie tugged hard on a doll.

“It’s mine. Will said so.” To add emphasis to her demand, the redhead screamed bloody murder. “Miss Rainy!”

About that time, Joshua decided to skate across the suds, and slammed into the far wall next to a door that probably opened into the garage. He grabbed his big toe and sent up a howl. Water sloshed as Rainy rushed forward and gathered him into her arms.

“Rainy!” Blondie screamed again.

“Rainy!” the redhead yelled.

Nate cast a glance at the garage exit and considered a fast escape.

Lord, I’m here to do a good thing. Can You help me out a little?

Rainy, her clothes now wet, somehow managed to take the doll from the fighting girls while snuggling Joshua against her side. The serious-looking boy stood in the doorway, a baby on each hip, taking in the chaos.

“Come on, Emma,” he said to Blondie. “I’ll make you some chocolate milk.” So they went, slip-sliding out of the flooded room.

Four down, two to go.

Nate clunked his toolbox onto the washer and tried to ignore the chaos. Not an easy task, but one he’d learned to deal with as a boy. As an adult, he did everything possible to avoid this kind of madness. The Lord had a sense of humor sending him to this particular house.

“I apologize, Mr. Del Rio,” Rainy said, shoving at the wads of hair that hung around her face like Spanish moss.

“Call me Nate. I’m not that much older than you.” Being the longtime patriarch of his family, he might feel seventy, but he wasn’t.

“Okay, Nate. And I’m Rainy. Really, it’s not usually this bad. I can’t thank you enough for coming over. I tried to get a plumber, but today being Saturday…” She shrugged, letting the obvious go unsaid. No one could get a plumber on the weekend.

“No problem.” He removed his white Stetson and placed it next to the toolbox. What was he supposed to say? That he loved wading through dirty soapsuds and listening to kids scream and cry? Not likely.

Rainy stood with an arm around each of the remaining children—the rainbow boy and the redhead. Her look of embarrassment had him feeling sorry for her. All these kids and no man around to help. With this many, she’d never find another husband, he was sure of that. Who would willingly take on a boatload of kids?

After a minute, Rainy and the remaining pair left the room and he got to work. Wiggling the machine away from the wall wasn’t easy. Even with all the water on the floor, a significant amount remained in the tub. This leftover liquid sloshed and gushed at regular intervals. In minutes, his boots were dark with moisture. No problem there. As a rancher, his boots were often dark with lots of things, the best of which was water.

On his haunches, he surveyed the back of the machine where hoses and cords and metal parts twined together like a nest of water moccasins.

As he investigated each hose in turn, he once more felt a presence in the room. Pivoting on his heels, he discovered the two boys squatting beside him, attention glued to the back of the washer. Blondie hovered in the background.

“A busted hose?” the oldest one asked, pushing up his glasses.

“Most likely.”

“I coulda fixed it but Rainy wouldn’t let me.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If someone would show me.”

Nate suppressed a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Will. This here’s my brother, Joshua.” He yanked a thumb at the younger one. “He’s nine. I’m eleven. My sister’s Emma. She’s seven. You go to Miss Rainy’s church?”

“I do, but it’s a big church. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“She’s nice. Most of the time. She never hits us or anything, and we’ve been here for six months.”

It occurred to Nate then that these were not Rainy’s children. The kids called her Miss Rainy, not Mom, and according to Will they had not been here forever. But what was a young, single woman doing with all these kids? Foster care? Nah, they didn’t let singles do that. Did they?

Rainy frantically tossed toys into a basket in an effort to clear up some of the mess. She never let things get like this. Of all the days to have a stranger come into her home. A young, nice-looking stranger at that.

Pausing with a stuffed bear against her cheek, she chuckled. The poor man looked as bewildered as if he’d walked into the Twilight Zone.

She’d had to call upon the Handyman Ministry before but her friendly rescuers had been older fatherly types, not a lanky young cowboy in starched jeans and boots with stubble on his chin and a dangerous set of dimples that split his cheeks like long parentheses. Killer dimples.

She tossed the bear into the basket and went for a sponge to soak up the coffee-table mess.

With dimples like that, Nate Del Rio was probably like every other guy she’d noticed in the last two years—married.

She heaved a heavy sigh and dabbed at the spilled milk. For years, she’d prayed for a godly husband, but the Lord didn’t appear interested in her single, lonely status or in the fact that she wanted kids. Lots of kids. The dates she’d had never filled the bill and after a while, she’d given up the dating game entirely. It was too stressful anyway.

If she couldn’t have a husband and kids, she’d settle for kids only.

But she wasn’t dead, and Nate Del Rio was an attractive man.

She clicked off the blasting television and then handed each of the babies in the playpen a rattle. Precious little lambs. They looked so bewildered by this new, unfamiliar environment. As soon as she had a minute, she needed to hold and rock them, give them the comfort they craved and deserved.

With the TV off, the room had grown a little too quiet. She glanced into the bedroom to find Katie sprawled on the floor, coloring. Good. Maybe her stomachache was gone. Now, where were the others?

With another quick, reassuring glance at the babies, she headed for the laundry room. The sibling trio was naturally nosy, but they also hungered for attention from any obliging adult.

Sure enough, Joshua and Will were squatting in an inch of water, peppering Nate with questions. Seven-year-old Emma, the blond charmer, hung over the man’s back, her slender arms looped around his neck like a small, friendly boa constrictor.

“Emma,” Rainy said gently. “It’s hard for Nate to work with you hanging on him. Why don’t you and the boys come out of here and leave him alone?”

“But, Miss Rainy, he’s teaching me how to change a hose so I can do it next time.” Will’s eyes were dead serious behind his glasses. That was the trouble with Will. He was too serious. He seldom laughed, didn’t play like a normal kid and considered his younger siblings to be his responsibility. Even after six months of consistent, loving care, he hadn’t loosened up. The boy needed a strong man in his life, one of the reasons Rainy worried about adopting him and his siblings, though she longed to do so. She could love and nurture, but she could never be a male role model. She could, however, expose him to good ones and pray that would be enough.