Malory met his gaze evenly, her lips pressed into a thin line. She meant every word, he had no doubt.
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “I won’t intrude.”
She smiled. “Great. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Mike took another bite of his cone. She was like no other woman he’d ever come across, but if she wanted her space, he could do that.
“Uh-oh, Nanny Mal.” Katy sighed, and they both looked over to find the top of her cone in her lap. She poked at the softened ice cream with one finger.
Malory took a pile of napkins and set to work cleaning up what she could. A smile turned up her lips as she looked into Katy’s forlorn little face. Then her honeyed hair fell down across her eyes, hiding them from his view.
She was certainly more appealing than Mrs. Doubtfire, he’d give her that.
* * *
THAT EVENING, MIKE sat downstairs, his feet up, emptying his brain with some sports on TV. Upstairs, the bathwater splashed in the tub, and soft voices carried down. There was something sweet about having women in the house, and he hated to admit that he liked the changes around here—the scent of perfume in the hallway, the pile of wet towels after Katy’s bath, the extra plates in the sink. It was funny how such mundane details could be comforting, too.
If the facts were different, he’d be tempted to keep this. His home would feel very empty once Katy—and therefore Malory—left, even though he was trying his best to keep his emotions back.
The phone rang and he pushed himself back up, reaching for the handset.
“Mike Cruise here.”
“Hello, Mr. Cruise, this is Elizabeth Nelson from the adoption agency. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He sank back into the couch and muted the TV. He’d been in contact with Ms. Nelson since the day Katy arrived, and he’d already filled out a large number of forms. “Thanks for getting back to me.”
“I’d love to come by and meet Katherine, if you’d be okay with that. We can start the process of finding her a family. How does that sound to you?”
“That sounds good,” he said quickly. “So how does this work, exactly?”
“Well, I come for a little home visit. Then we’ll make her file available to families who are looking for children. Sometimes these things take a long time. Sometimes they’re surprisingly quick. It’s all about finding the right match.” There was a pause. “But I have to be honest. Katherine is already three, and that will make finding a match a little more difficult. Most families are looking for infants.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said.
“But that doesn’t make it impossible,” she hurried to add. “Your situation isn’t so rare. When there are deaths in a family or incarceration, there are often small children left behind without anyone to take them in. Another loving home is the best solution for everyone.”
A pang of guilt stabbed at Mike’s gut. Katy did have a family member, but Mike still wasn’t the best solution for the kid. “So the next step is a home visit?” he prompted.
“Yes, and I’d love to come by at your earliest convenience. I have next Tuesday afternoon open.”
“That could work,” Mike agreed.
“Say at one?”
“Perfect. We’ll be here.”
After a few more pleasantries, Mike hung up and his gaze moved toward the ceiling. Above, the plug was pulled, and the sound of water rushed through the pipes in the walls.
He’d miss this, much as he hated to admit it. He’d miss hearing laughter and bathwater. It was a silly thing to miss, but there it was. He’d never admit it out loud to anyone.
* * *
MALORY KNELT NEXT to her small charge in the middle of the floor, summer sunlight pooling on the tiles from the open bathroom window. A warm breeze pushed into the room, fluttering the white curtains. Next to them, the water drained slowly from the tub. Malory pulled the towel off Katy’s wet hair and picked up a brush.
“I don’t like that.” Katy shook her head adamantly and clamped her hands onto her head.
“Why not?” Malory asked, squatting down next to her. They’d encountered this before.
“It’s ouchie.”
“I put some special conditioner in your hair so it won’t hurt,” Malory said.
Katy didn’t answer but appeared to be thinking it over.
“What if I promise to be very, very careful? Will you let me brush your hair then?”
Tears filled Katy’s eyes and when Malory came toward her, she shied away in terror. Malory looked down at the brush, and the horrible thought struck her that someone might have used a brush to punish the tiny girl in the past.
“Okay, okay...” Malory put the brush behind her and pushed it across the floor. “No brush. Would you let me touch your hair with my fingers?”
Katy complied to that request, and Malory detangled the toddler’s hair as best she could using her fingers as combs. Whatever this child had been through, it would take a lot of love and patience to win her trust again.
“What story do you want before bed, sweetie?” Malory asked as she worked on a knot.
“I want him to read it.”
“You mean Uncle Mike?” Malory asked.
Katy nodded.
“Well, why don’t you go choose a book from my bag and then you can ask him.” Malory smiled as the little girl scampered off toward Malory’s bedroom. Some scuffles and thumps filtered through the wall as Malory picked up the towels and wiped up the puddles on the floor. The brush lay next to the tub, and she picked it up, sadness piercing her heart.
“What did they do to you?” she whispered, then dropped the brush into a drawer.
By the time she was finished making the bathroom presentable again, Katy stood in the doorway, a book clutched against her chest.
“Got one!” she announced.
“Okay, let’s go find Uncle Mike.”
She’d have to fill Mike in on these developments. Maybe he could arrange some therapy for Katy. She’d need help healing from her trauma.
Katy traipsed down the stairs dressed in a nightgown, damp at the shoulders from her wet hair. When Malory caught up in the living room, she faltered. Mike sat on the couch with his feet up, the TV on a sports channel. His T-shirt tugged at his muscled chest and arms, and from the angle where Malory stood, she could see the stubble on his chin.
“Go ahead,” Malory said quietly.
Mike looked up when he heard Malory’s voice, and Katy moved forward, her book held over her chest like a shield.
“Uncle Mike?” she whispered.
“Yes, Katy?” He flicked off the TV and dropped the remote. Katy crept closer until she stood right in front of him.
“Uncle Mike?” she repeated breathlessly, then thrust the book out in front of her, smacking him solidly in the kneecaps.
“Ouch.” He chuckled. “Do you want me to read that to you?”
She nodded but didn’t make a move.
“Do you want to come sit next to me?” he asked.
Katy considered for a moment, then lifted her arms toward him. “Up,” she said.
Mike glanced up at Malory