No matter what had passed between him and his brother, no matter how much his sister-in-law hated him, he would not let the girls go into foster care. They were still his family.
“No,” Brady said.
DANA TRIED TO GET through as much of her grading as she could. She spread the papers out before her on the table, feeling very anxious, while Karen, Jean and Ollie lay curled together on her couch. She adjusted her reading glasses and still squinted at the papers in front of her. She’d called the sheriff’s department over an hour ago, but no one had come yet, though it was close to midnight.
Dana’s chest tightened. The girls weren’t trouble. Jean and Ollie had cried a little because they wanted to go home, but Karen had comforted them with adultlike pats and soft words, and they’d quickly settled down.
For their dinner, Dana had scraped together three scrawny peanut butter sandwiches. She rooted through her kitchen cabinets looking for something that came from the fruit and vegetable portion of the food guide. She rose triumphant with a jar of peaches given to her by a parent. Laid out on the Corelle, the dinner didn’t look too bad. Three pairs of large eyes, so stoic that a lesser woman would have wept, stood in the door of the kitchen, not even daring to enter.
“Dinner’s on the table. Why don’t you come in and eat?” she’d invited with a small smile.
“I’m not hungry, Miss Ritchie,” Karen had said, her voice polite. She had her arms around her sisters. Ollie whispered something to Jean, who put her hand to Karen’s ear. Karen listened and then looked up again. She reported, “But the girls are, so I guess they should eat. I don’t need to.”
“Come, all of you,” Dana ushered them into the kitchen and got them seated. She should have put her arm around Karen and let her know that she didn’t have to carry all that responsibility, and that everything was going to be all right. But Dana had done that before.
After the girls were settled and eating, Dana called her mother on the phone in her bedroom. “Have you called the police?” her mother had asked as soon as Dana had explained the day’s events.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Her mother was emphatic. “I don’t want you to get involved. Remember what happened last time.”
Last time.
At first, her concern for the little kindergartener named Adam was strictly professional, then as the situation with his drug-addicted mother became clear, it turned to fond sympathy, followed quickly by a love she didn’t believe she could feel for a child who wasn’t hers. It changed her from a carefree young woman heedlessly taking an ordinary path from college to career to husband to children to fierce protector of the most innocent and underprivileged. No one could have predicted that all the love she’d had for Adam could vanish with one cold and ugly act. After that she’d changed again. This time into a woman who never wanted to be touched—emotionally or physically.
Her parents had stood by her the entire time, never questioning her decision to resign from her position at a progressive urban elementary school to sign on here. They’d simply helped her move. It was then that her mother—with a reassuring peck on the cheek—had warned her about hiding from her grief. But her mother had underestimated Dana’s resolve. Dana was a smart, capable woman. If anyone could dodge grief, she would. She would conquer it by working so hard that her brain became numb.
One of the girls whimpered and Dana was brought back to the present. Karen, Jean and Ollie were fast asleep, their heads hanging at awkward angles. Dana looked at the stacks of papers in front of her, accepting the fact she wasn’t going to get them done. She went over to the girls and straightened them out on the couch, placing a granny-square afghan over them. Adam had lain under this same blanket, giggling as he peered at her through the holes.
Karen opened her eyes. “Are they here yet?”
Dana shook her head. “Soon.”
“Can’t we stay here? This is comfortable.” Her gray eyes were serious. “Momma said she’d be back on Sunday.”
Dana couldn’t keep them until Sunday. That was out of the question. They needed some motherly attention, a bath and clean clothes, real meals. Dana couldn’t give them that.
“You’ll be best off with people who can take care of you.” Dana spoke in a practical tone. She knew where the conversation was leading as Karen’s lips pinched together to keep them from trembling. Jean moaned again.
“Is Jean okay?” Dana asked with concern. Before she could stop herself, she’d moved toward Jean and put a gentle hand on the small forehead.
“She’s fine,” Karen said quickly. “She has bad dreams sometimes.”
Karen nudged her sister with her foot and Jean’s eyes struggled to open. She was disoriented and her face crumpled with fear.
“It’s just me, Jean,” Dana soothed, the waves of some indefinable emotion washing through her. “You’re okay.”
Jean’s face cleared and her eyes closed; clearly she’d never fully woken up.
“You can take us,” Karen said, her voice small but brave.
Her back to Karen, Dana squeezed her eyes tight as she readjusted the afghan. “No, I can’t. It’s not right.”
She ventured a look over her shoulder and felt even worse as Karen’s eyes swam with tears. “Yes, it is. We get along okay at school, don’t we?”
Dana couldn’t answer that question, so she answered one that made her feel better. “A nice lady or man from Child Protective Services will come pick you up and find you a nice place to stay.”
“All of us? Together?” Karen asked anxiously.
“I’m sure they’ll try their best,” Dana hedged and dropped her hands from the crocheted coverlet. She couldn’t adjust the afghan forever.
“Why can’t you keep us?” Karen’s clear treble had a pleading edge to it.
“I’m your teacher. Technically, I’m not even supposed to be baby-sitting you. And we need to know that you’re okay if something happens to your mom.” As soon as the words came out of Dana’s mouth, she wanted to take them back. Karen, if possible, paled more.
“Do you think she’s in trouble?”
This was another one of those situations in which a normal woman would tug the eleven-year-old into a tight hug and whisper heartfelt reassurances. Karen looked as if she would welcome that. Instead, Dana patted her arm. “I’m sure she’s okay. But it’s good that you’ll be with people who can take care of you. Try to get some sleep. They should be here soon.”
CHAPTER TWO
BRADY RAPPED on the door. He checked his watch and adjusted his belt, his heart beating erratically. Ridiculous. This wasn’t a hostage situation; these were just little girls. Of course, it didn’t help that he couldn’t remember their faces or even the littlest one’s name. Olive? Oleander? Would Bev actually name her daughter after a bush? He doubted that. Would he even know his nieces? They certainly wouldn’t know him. He knocked again, automatically surveying the grounds. The school sat to the left of this small house.
“Just a minute,” came the muffled response.
Brady looked at his watch again and stared at the front door. He heard rustling, then the door opened a crack and one eye peered at him. He noticed the flimsy chain on the door and the rotting wood it was clinging to. An intruder would have no difficulty entering this residence. A hefty shove would topple both the person attached to the eye and the door. Hardly safe for a woman living alone. He’d never met the schoolteacher but he didn’t think that an elderly woman should be living out here all alone. He made a mental note to talk to her about safety.
She opened