“Where’s Smudge?” Chloe’s question pulled Janell back from those inappropriate thoughts.
The child’s tone had been a mix of accusation and apprehension, as if she suspected her uncle of having done something unpleasant to her pet. But the fact that she’d spoken at all was a good sign. It meant Chloe would make the effort to speak up given sufficient motivation.
Mr. Chandler, however, didn’t seem to share her optimism. Instead he looked resigned. “Don’t worry, Chloe—your pet is fine,” he said. “He’s waiting for us back at the house.”
Wanting to reassure the girl, Janell quickly wrote down Mr. Chandler’s response so Chloe could read it. Some of the girl’s anxiety eased, but not her suspicion. She glared at her uncle and then focused back on her cup of cocoa, idly pushing the toy top around with one finger.
For a moment, as Mr. Chandler studied his niece’s bent head, there was a defeated slump to his shoulders, as if he didn’t think he’d ever get through to her. Janell had the most unexpected urge to give his arm a comforting touch, barely stopping herself in time. What had got into her?
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice anything peculiar in her behavior. Instead, he seemed to draw on something inside himself. He straightened, once more the picture of confidence, and turned to her with a nod. “Thank you for watching Alex and Chloe. It was a big help.”
“You’re quite welcome. They were no trouble at all.”
“I’ll settle the bill with Mrs. Dawson and then we’ll be on our way,” he said, already turning back to the children. “Please don’t let us keep you any longer—I can take it from here.”
He sounded almost as if he meant that. But she wasn’t ready to go just yet—she needed to have a word with Mr. Chandler before he took the lost-looking youngsters home with him, if for no other reason than to give him a better idea of what he’d be facing in the coming days.
She stood and glanced toward the counter. “Eve, would you mind if I took Mr. Chandler to the kitchen to show him your new oven?”
Eve picked up her cue immediately. “Not at all.” She nodded. “Take your time. I’ll keep an eye on the children for you.”
Other than a quick raise of an eyebrow, Mr. Chandler hid his surprise at her odd request quite well. Without a word, he swept an arm forward, indicating she should precede him.
Once the kitchen door swung closed he crossed his arms. “I assume you didn’t really intend to show me the oven. So why are we here?”
Janell smiled as she motioned to a chair at the worktable. “I’d like to speak to you about something.”
He scrubbed a hand wearily across his jaw and glanced at the door as if he could see through it to the children. He was silent so long she thought he would refuse. But after a moment he nodded. He didn’t so much sit as drop into the seat.
“If I understood what you said earlier, Chloe hasn’t always been deaf.”
He shook his head. “The explosion that killed their parents also stole her hearing.”
Janell’s hand flew to her throat. “Explosion!” She hadn’t heard that part of the story.
He leaned forward with his hands clasped on the table. “My apologies for blurting that out—I wasn’t thinking. Back in Elgin Springs everyone knows what happened.”
“No need for apologies. I can’t imagine what those children have been through.”
His smile was grim. “Fortunately, Chloe was in a separate room when it happened.” He looked down at his hands. “So she didn’t actually witness...” His jaw tightened and he raked a hand through his hair.
She impulsively placed her hand on his. “That much, at least, is a blessing.”
His hand stiffened under hers and she drew back, feeling her cheeks warm. Had she been too forward?
Blessing? Hank’s anger and grief threatened to erupt again. No, there wasn’t much about what had happened in this matter that he would consider a blessing. Not for him, and not for the kids.
A heartbeat later he realized Miss Whitman had read something of his feelings. But he could also tell by the flush rising in her cheeks that she’d misinterpreted the reason.
Because he hadn’t objected to her touch at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of that, though.
Even if she looked quite pretty with that warm color in her face.
Yes, Miss Whitman had definitely solidified her place on his list of candidates for wife.
“And what of Alex?”
The schoolteacher’s question pulled his focus back to the matter at hand. He was relieved to see she had already regained her composure. “Fortunately, Alex wasn’t at home when the explosion happened, so he didn’t receive any injuries.”
“No physical injuries, at least,” she amended. “I’m sure emotionally he’s hurting a great deal.”
He nodded. It was something he needed to keep reminding himself of since he tended to focus more on what Chloe had lost.
“As I mentioned earlier,” she continued, “I have experience with Chloe’s condition. My sister went deaf at the age of seventeen.”
He sat up straighter. Perhaps she could help. “How did it happen in her case?”
“Measles.”
He saw the sadness in her luminous eyes and felt the urge to comfort her. Instead, he kept the conversation on the issue at hand. “How did your sister handle it?”
“Not very well at first.” Her lips twisted wryly. “In fact, much the same way Chloe is handling it right now.”
“But she did get better.” Please let there be hope.
“She never regained her hearing. But she did eventually come to terms with what had happened. It took a lot of time, though, and a lot of work, both on her part and by all of us who love her.”
“So she’s fine now?”
Miss Whitman’s expression closed off for a moment. Then she seemed to shake off her melancholy. “Absolutely. For the last five years she’s been happily married. She now has two children and leads a very active life.”
Could he dare hope Chloe would turn out the same way? Right now that seemed an improbable dream. “But there’s a difference between an eighteen-year-old and a ten-year-old.”
“True.” She leaned forward, propping her forearms on the table. “But that doesn’t mean the same approach won’t work with Chloe.”
“You honestly think you can help her adjust?”
“I’m willing to try.” She gave him a direct look. “But it means work for you and Alex as well as Chloe.”
He’d figured as much. “Hard work doesn’t scare me.”
“Good. But first things first. You need to get them home and settled in.” She paused a moment, as if something had just occurred to her. “I assume you do have room in your home for them?”
“I do.” She certainly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Must be the schoolteacher in her.
“Is there a separate room for each of them or do you plan to have them share?”
“There are two spare rooms.” At one time he’d thought to raise a family in that house. But that plan had been