A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Again, this is a multicliff story. It has a long way to go.

(H/C)

The front door closed behind Marina, and Thomas turned to face the girls. Rachel was practically vibrating, as happy as if an unexpected ice cream cone had appeared in her day. Abby, though, looked somewhat pulled back into herself. "I just told them a few minutes ago, and she doesn't like surprises," Marina had explained to him softly as she gathered her purse. "Gets that from her father." Having five minutes' notice that the evening sitter would be a substitute who had never done it before had her a little wary, not fearful but reserved, waiting to see how this worked out.

Poignantly, she reminded him of her father, too, and in a way Marina couldn't have shared. Thomas well remembered Greg in his first year, the only year of his life Thomas had shared fully to date. The baby Greg had had the exact same expression when circumstances around him changed suddenly for some reason as he attempted to work it out. Even before he started speaking - and he had started speaking at seven months - the analytical expression had been there. Practically from birth, wheels could be seen turning behind those eyes, years before John had his change of heart. Tim, who looked so much like him, had been much more outgoing and sociable as a baby, taking the world in stride, and Thomas had been fascinated by the apparent difference in personalities even that early behind the similar features.

He smiled at his granddaughters. "So, girls, your mother should be home before too long. Until then, what should we do?" He hoped they wouldn't pick watching a movie, as he wanted something more interactive, milking the moment for all it was worth. But he'd give them the choice.

Rachel looked toward the back door. "Go outside!" she voted, and she ran a quick circle around the living room. Thomas gave a quick glance at her shoelaces, but Marina had them tightly tied. "I wanna run. Can you run?"

"Yes, I can run, but your sister gets a vote, too. What do you want to do, Abby?"

Abby looked toward the window - assessing the weather, he realized. It was a beautiful spring day. "When will Mama come?" she asked.

Thomas walked over to the clock and stretched out a hand to her, inviting her to join him. "See the long hand? When it goes all the way around and gets back to the 8, she should come. Approximately."

She walked up and studied the clock. Rachel's stuffed Ember gave an impatient whinny. "Abby! Let's go outside!" Rachel insisted.

"Already did," Abby corrected. She wasn't ruling out going outside now, Thomas realized, just calling the technical point.

Thomas chuckled. So alive they were and yet so different. His granddaughters. "Marina took you out earlier today?"

"Uh huh. To the park! But let's go again!"

"Not to the park, because your mother will be back too soon, but we can go out in the yard if you both want."

Abby looked from the window to the clock again. "Out in the front," she decided.

"In the front yard? Okay." He knew they were allowed out in both of them; Rachel had been demonstrating her running prowess in the front yard Wednesday night when he and Greg were out there for a minute while Lisa finished cooking. Rachel changed course for the front door, accepting any version of outside offered, and Thomas looked down at his younger granddaughter. "You can see your mother as soon as she comes that way. Right?" She nodded solemnly. Rachel was bouncing at the front door, unable to reach the dead bolt. "Just a minute, Rachel. It's still pretty nice, and I don't think we need sweaters, but let's check your shoes." He bent over to inspect the laces on both Rachel's and Abby's, then reached for the lock. "Okay, girls. But you have to stay away from the road."

"We know that." Rachel sounded so much like her father there that he had to smile again. She ran out into the front yard, and Thomas and Abby followed more slowly.

The day was still quite warm, one of the best they'd had so far. Spring all around them, and the azalea transplanted from Lexington was blooming, perhaps a little shakily from its trip, but its grip on the new location was taking hold, and he knew every year from this point on would only get better. Rachel ran small circles, never getting far from him. "Come and run, Thomas!"

At that moment, his cell phone rang. "Just a minute, girls." He pulled it out, keeping a close eye on them. Equine Transport. He hit the button to answer, hoping that Ember wasn't arriving early. If she was, he'd have to get the stable manager to fill in for him to receive her and sign off on the paperwork, but he really wanted to be there himself, and Rachel would be quite put out at missing the big moment. "Hello."

"Mr. Thornton?"

"Yes."

"This is Jim with Equine Transport. I'm one of the team with Ember's truck, and I'm just giving you an update. We should probably be about 10:00 tomorrow morning getting to Trenton." The stable he'd selected was near both Princeton and Trenton but technically fell into the address of the next city, though it was rural. "I'll call in the morning to confirm it, but unless tonight's pickup or tomorrow's first delivery delays us, that time should be pretty close."

"Great. I'll be there. How's Ember doing?" Rachel perked up at the horse's name and stopped running, coming up to his side and watching him intently instead. Abby, too, was trying to fill in the conversation. She was ready to see the horse herself, a new experience.

"She's fine. Eating like a horse, and she is drinking plenty, too."

"Good." Horses didn't always drink well on a long trip with the changes in water. There were tricks that could be used, such as adding peppermint oil for treat-flavored water, but he was glad it wasn't necessary.

"She is trying to work things out, but she's not upset, just wondering. She's a smart girl, does more thinking than a lot we see, but she's handling the trip well. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

"I'll definitely be glad to see her. Thanks for the update."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Thornton."

He ended the call, and both of his granddaughters closed in. "Is Ember here?" Rachel asked.

"Not yet. They were just telling me that she will be here tomorrow, like we thought. She's doing fine."

"Is she hungry?" Rachel was still a little worried about the horse stuck in a truck with those strangers.

"No, she's not hungry, Rachel. She has plenty of hay, and they stop every couple of hours to give them water. They said she's traveling really well."

Abby chimed in. "Tomorrow morning?" she asked, just double checking.

"Yes. Tomorrow morning. We'll all see her then."

"Yay! Ember!" Rachel launched herself at him for a power hug. He was just in the process of returning his cell phone to his pocket at that moment, and she jostled him enough that it slipped from his grip and made a brief, arching flight, disappearing into the azalea.

"You dropped it," Abby informed him.

Thomas sighed. "Thank you, Abby." He bent over, but the phone wasn't immediately visible. He dropped to all fours for a better look, getting closer and closer to the ground until he finally spotted it hiding. A long arm captured it.

In the next moment, he jumped as Rachel scrambled vigorously onto his conveniently horizontal back. "You look like a horse!" she announced, and Abby laughed. Thomas took a deep breath. His extensively cut and bruised back from the explosion was 98% healed up, but a few of the deepest scars were still sensitive. He didn't even notice it most of the time at this point, but he didn't usually have a 3 1/2-year-old trying to mount him with more enthusiasm than care, either. "Rachel, slide down, okay?"

She was confused but obeyed, descending back to the ground. "You looked like a horse," she repeated, and the tone was half apology, half explanation.

"I know. It's okay." He straightened up to his knees and gave her a reassuring smile. "But you don't go up to a horse suddenly like that and jump at them and surprise them. Remember?"

She nodded, belatedly recalling his course in Horse 101, Toddler's Version. "I'm sorry."

He leaned over and gave her a hug. "It's all right."

"If I ask soft, can you be a horse?"

Thomas was abruptly gripped with another memory of the past, himself riding his father on several occasions when he was about Rachel's age and a little older. Timothy Thornton had made a marvelous horse, smooth enough to be safe but with exciting snorts and gentle prancing thrown in. He could remember himself laughing. Golden moments of childhood. He wished he'd realized back then how precious they were, that his parents might not always be there.

The past and the present converged, and he couldn't resist. "All right. But you don't just jump at me like that. You get on gently and sit still. Here." He stood up and walked over to the porch steps, trailed by his eager audience. "This, girls, is what we call a mounting block. It helps you get on a horse so you don't have to climb so hard to get up there."

"And Ember has one?" Rachel asked.

"I use one all the time with Ember. She's very tall. I can get on her from the ground, but it's easier for me and for her to get on from a mounting block. Now stand on the step, girls." They climbed to the step, and he dropped to all fours again and lined himself up. "Climb on, one at a time, and do it gently. Okay?" Rachel was first up. Much better; she was being careful and steady this time. It bothered the scars slightly, but the discomfort was minimal now, far less than the moment. "Come on, Abby. You can get on, too." She was getting taller but was still quite light. She climbed on in front of her sister, and he judged the combined weight. This was easily doable. "Okay, now I'm a horse. Be careful not to kick me in the shoulders, Abby." His left shoulder also was back to baseline, just occasional weather aches, but he had been deliberately babying it the last few days with the furniture just in case. "Ready, girls?"

"Yay!" Rachel called, but softly. She was trying not to scare her "horse."

Abby, though, had a logistical question. "There's no straps."

"Oh, the bridle?" He thought quickly. "I don't have a bridle, but we can pretend. Take a handful of my hair, Abby. One with each hand. Gently, though. Don't pull." She gripped his hair, but her touch was soft. "Now you can tell me where to go. But you don't have to really pull. Horses can feel you with just a little twitch on the reins. You don't need to yank on them." She gave the softest squeeze on the right side, away from the step, and he turned that direction. Off they went around the yard, Thomas being infinitely careful not to jostle them, but they were trying to sit quietly, too. Abby, he noted, did remember the rein commands correctly from Monday night. He followed her directions, turning and stopping as requested. All three of them were getting into the moment now. He gave a dramatic snort, and Abby as well as Rachel laughed.

Thomas heard the car, but he happened to be at the far end of the front yard at that point, facing away from the road. Trying not to buck off his small riders and also trying not to put a sudden strain on his shoulder, he took several seconds to turn back and look. He wasn't helped much by Abby, who was put out that he was suddenly disobeying her commands as to their route. "No. Bad horse!"

By the time he had finished turning, the car was in the driveway. The couple emerged and stared at him, and Thomas started to get a bad feeling about this night. If his guess was correct from the picture in the living room, this looked like . . .

Rachel noticed the guests for the first time. "Hi, Grandma! Hi, Grandpa. Go, horse!" She gave him a gentle kick in the sides, disappointed that their lovely game seemed to have ended.

The man and woman walked across the grass toward them. "Time to get off, girls," Thomas said.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded.

Rachel answered with innocent enthusiasm as she dismounted. "This is Grandpa Thomas! He's Daddy's father."