Jimmy’s eyelids were drifting closed, but he struggled to keep them open. “Don’t go.”
“Okay.” She sat on the edge of his bed, softly singing one of the Irish lullabies her mother had sung to her when she was little.
Chloe hummed the chorus again, watching until finally the gentle rise and fall of his chest told her that Jimmy had nodded off. Quietly she returned to her room, leaving the door to the nursery open. Warmed by the dwindling fire, she crossed over to the bay window. Old-fashioned streetlights—that she guessed had been converted from oil—softly illuminated the brick-paved street below. She hadn’t imagined such quaint places still existed. As she studied the engaging landscape, she spotted a lone figure walking up the lane. When the man reached the Mitchell home he turned and headed to the tall oak on the knolled rise of the lawn.
Unable to take her eyes from the man, she glimpsed his face when he stepped beside the gas light in the yard. Evan Mitchell. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it was his home. Continuing to watch, she saw him sit on a stone bench that curved around the tree. Evan just didn’t seem like the sort of man to take solitary nighttime walks. Fleetingly she wondered if he was cold.
Not that it should matter to her. His behavior had been utterly frigid. Still, she wondered why he sat alone, what drove him out in the chilly night. Wisps of clouds drifted, allowing some moonlight to filter downward. Evan looked up in the direction of the light. His expression was so bleak, Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth to stop an automatic cry of distress. What was troubling him so deeply?
Not that he would confide in her. Nor should she want him to. Evan was the enemy, the man who decided Jimmy’s fate. But the part of her that always reached out to others refused to stay quiet. Was it possible that Evan had issues that she needed to learn? Issues he had to resolve before accepting a child in his life?
The questions stilled. Because Evan Mitchell dropped his head in his hands. And Chloe couldn’t intrude on his private moment any longer.
Even though the soft feather bed was incredibly comfortable, Chloe couldn’t sleep. Literally tossing and shifting in the bed, she’d twisted the sheets and lace crocheted coverlet into a tangled mess. But sleep was impossible with the mass of conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. Hearing a sudden cry, she bolted upright. Remembering the small set of wooden stairs beside the mattress for climbing in and out of the tall bed, she clicked on her lamp so she could find them. Untangling herself from the covers, she grabbed her robe and raced into the adjoining room.
Jimmy was sitting up in the bed, looking terrified.
Immediately, Chloe reached out to pull him into her arms. Rocking him back and forth, she imparted all the comfort she possessed. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re safe. I’m right here.” He shook with a convulsed sob and Chloe’s eyes filled. If only she could take his pain for him. Rubbing his back, she held him until he was finally still. Pulling back slightly, she smoothed the dark hair from his forehead. “Was it a dream?”
He nodded, a jerky motion. “And when I woke up I didn’t know where I was.”
“I wasn’t having much luck sleeping either. I’d probably go to sleep faster if I wasn’t alone.” She rubbed her chin as though in deep concentration. “Do you suppose I could sleep on the extra bed in here? It would really help me out.”
This time when he nodded, he looked up at her with relief in his big brown eyes.
She eased the tears from his cheeks with her fingers. “I know I’ll feel safe in here with you.”
He sniffled.
“Okay, better get that bug snug again.” He dutifully laid back down and she tucked him in. “If it wouldn’t keep you awake, I’d kind of like to keep the little light on.”
“It’s okay,” he agreed gratefully.
She smoothed his hair once more. “Thanks.”
Climbing into the bed she guessed once belonged to a nanny, Chloe actually did feel better. She had been worried about Jimmy being alone, frightened in the strange house. She smoothed the blanket in place, leaving her arms out. Now, if she could just get Evan Mitchell out of her thoughts. Sighing, she realized that wouldn’t be nearly as easy.
Early morning sunlight invaded Chloe’s face. Scrunching her eyes, she reached for the sheet to cover them. Awareness hit at the same instant. Immediately, she looked at Jimmy’s bed. It was empty. Fear filled her chest. Surely he hadn’t run away. He didn’t know anyone in Rosewood.
Blinking, she focused again and saw his pajamas thrown across the bed. Next to them was his stuffed dog, Elbert. Jimmy wouldn’t have left his treasured friend behind.
Although reassured, she dressed quickly so she could look for him. Evan Mitchell wouldn’t welcome a curious, roaming child in his house.
Once downstairs, she headed toward the kitchen, but paused when she heard voices in the dining room. Walking slowly, she approached the group.
“You must be Chloe,” a gray-haired man boomed in a deep voice. He stood up, keeping Jimmy close to his side.
“I’m Gordon Mitchell, Evan’s father. Sure pleased to have you here.”
Surreptitiously glancing around, she didn’t see Evan, and relaxed. “Thank you.”
Thelma poured another mug of coffee and handed it to Chloe. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Very well, thanks. It’s a beautiful room.” She glanced at Gordon. “A beautiful house.”
“Too empty, though.” He patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “Need some young energy to fill it up again.”
Unwilling to discuss Evan’s refusal in front of Jimmy, Chloe sipped the bracing brew.
Jimmy knelt down. “Did you see the dog, Chloe?”
A calm golden retriever seemed delighted by Jimmy’s attention, waving a beautifully plumed tail and pushing his muzzle into Jimmy’s hand.
“I don’t remember seeing him yesterday,” she mused.
“Bailey was with me,” Gordon explained. “Hunting. But he pined for Evan the whole time.”
“He’s Evan’s dog?” Chloe asked in surprise.
“Bailey’s usually camped out by Evan’s side, clinging like thistle. Jimmy’s pretty special to have tempted him away.”
“French toast this morning.” Thelma winked at Jimmy.
“Thought I might find somebody who’d like it.”
“Sounds great.” Chloe slipped into a chair. “How did your hunting trip go, Mr. Mitchell?”
“Best part of it is the guys. We tell the same stories we’ve told each other for the last fifty years, and now that we’re getting on, some of ’em even sound new again.” His dark eyes crinkled with kindness.
Although she could see the resemblance between the two generations of men, Gordon exuded warmth, friendliness. Chloe wanted to relax, but she was still facing a major confrontation.
The thought apparently conjured up the man in question. Evan stalked into the room, crossing over to the sideboard to pour a mug of coffee. Bailey jumped up and ran to his side. Evan rubbed the dog’s head. As he did, Evan turned, his gaze narrowing first on Chloe, then Jimmy and finally his father.
Thelma pushed open the door from the kitchen, holding a large platter. She placed the French toast in the middle of the table. “Eat it while it’s hot.”
Chloe turned to Jimmy. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Hoping Evan wouldn’t open with an argument, she speared one piece.
Gordon passed