Mommy, May I? by A. K. Alexander Page A

childcare for her and her baby. Once she’s on her feet in about a year, maybe a little longer, then we’ll help her find housing and really help get her out into the real world.”
    “That’s pretty cool. But can I ask you something?” Frankie said.
    “Sure.”
    “Are you doing all of this because you feel guilty about me?”
    Helena pulled up on Duchess’s reins and stopped. Frankie halted her mare, too. Helena looked out at the ocean as if searching for the right answer. Tears formed in her eyes. She brushed them away. “I guess in a way, you could say that I am. Shea House gives me a chance to be around babies and young children. I missed that with you. But it’s deeper than that. These women need my help, and although I wasn’t pregnant with you when I got so bad on the drugs and alcohol, I was grateful there were people willing to help me. If I can make some amends in this life by helping these girls and their children, that’ll be great. But the goal is to try and provide those in need with a second chance. I got one, and I feel fortunate I did. Look at us. You’ve given me one.” Duchess pawed at the ground. “I think she smells the hay back home.”
    “I’m glad I gave you one, too,” Frankie replied.
    By the time they got back to the ranch, Helena felt good about things. After putting their horses away, she walked up to Frankie and hugged her tight, as she’d wanted to when she’d arrived. Frankie didn’t flinch. “I want you to know that I love you. Because of the past, I’m sure you wonder, but I really do. Always have. I’m going to do my best to make things right between us.”
    Frankie had tears in her eyes when she said, “I know, Mom.”
    “I’ll be here for you from now on.” Helena hugged Frankie again. They were so much alike, with strong exteriors masking their vulnerabilities.
    As they walked to the house hand in hand, Helena vowed to protect this girl—her daughter—knowing she was lucky to get this second chance.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    When the girls came into the kitchen, Patrick saw that Helena’s arm was around Frankie. Obviously things were easier between them. Seeing them like that together took the cap off the pressure-cooker of guilt he’d been feeling for so long. It didn’t alleviate all of it, but enough to make him feel pretty damn good.
    “This place doesn’t smell like any steakhouse I’ve ever been in,” Helena said, wiping her hands on her dirt-stained jeans.
    “Yeah, Dad, what gives? It smells like Pepe’s down the street.”
    Patrick held his hands up. “You caught me. Welcome to Pat’s Place, where we make the best pasta in town.”
    “Ooh!” Frankie said. “Dad only makes spaghetti on Christmas Eve or for really special people.”
    “You know, Helena, she gets that from you.”
    “What’s that?”
    “The smart-alek attitude.”
    Frankie smiled. Patrick couldn’t recall seeing his daughter this happy in a very long time. Having Helena in the house somehow felt right. He watched her as she and Frankie set the table. She was more beautiful than ever. The hard years hadn’t defeated her, but he’d always known she was strong-willed.
    When they sat at the table, he stretched out his arms and took Helena’s hands. Her eyes widened.
    “Prayer,” Frankie said.
    Helena’s hand gripped Patrick’s hand back. He bowed his head as an electric sensation traveled throughout his body. He closed his eyes, wondering if she felt it. “Dear Lord, thank you for this lovely day, this food, and for Helena’s visit. Please bless this dinner and help it to nourish our bodies. Amen.” He lifted up his head. “You start, Lena.” Patrick handed her the bowl of pasta. She didn’t take it right away—she looked at him, her brow furrowed.
    “Like today , Mom? We’re all hungry.”
    Helena took the pasta bowl. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
    Patrick watched her hands shake as she scooped out the spaghetti. “You okay?”
    She nodded, but he could