Ethan stepped forward and picked up a large pink bottle from the basket. “This is bubble bath. There’s a big ole bathtub down the hall that’s perfect for bubble baths.”
Hannah nodded.
Ethan selected another item. “And these are bubble toys, ducks to play with in the bubble bath.”
“I’m too old for toys,” Hannah said.
“Then can I have them?” Ethan said. “I’d love to play with them in my bathtub.”
“You?” Hannah shook her head. “You’re too old, too.”
“You’re never too old to have fun, kid. How about this?” He selected a box covered in shrink-wrap. “Bubble gum. We can have a contest, you, Caroline and I. We’ll see who can blow the biggest bubble.”
Hannah looked skeptical, and Ethan set the gum aside. “But first, here’s the best. It’s a bubble shooter. You fill this end with the bubble liquid, here, pull the trigger and…”
Dozens of bubbles erupted from the mouth of the toy and floated like jewels in the morning sunshine streaming through the windows.
Hannah watched the bubbles swirl in the air, but her face never lost its solemn appearance. Ethan, however, did not seem deterred. He dug again into the basket, pulled out an opaque plastic bubble, and handed it to Hannah. “You can open this one.”
Without enthusiasm, Hannah twisted the bubble to unscrew its halves. Inside the sphere lay a delicate bracelet, a chain of enameled daisies.
“Daniel told me you like daisies,” Ethan said.
“Want me to put it on you?” Caroline asked.
“Yes, please.” Hannah stuck out her stick-thin arm.
Caroline placed the bracelet around the girl’s wrist and fastened the clasp. “It looks very nice.”
“Now this one.” Ethan handed Hannah another sphere that opened to reveal a matching necklace.
Caroline put the necklace around Hannah’s tiny neck and secured the clasp. “You look very stylish.”
“Thank you.”
Caroline wanted to scream with frustration. Ethan had done everything but tap-dance, yet nothing seemed to touch Hannah, who seemed to be frozen in a block of ice. Caroline yearned to see the child laugh. Even a smile would be a start. Hannah’s unhappiness tore at her heart.
“So much for the presents.” Ethan moved the basket from the window seat and sat down. “Now for the fun part.”
He patted the cushion beside him. Hannah looked to Caroline, as if for permission.
“It’s okay,” Caroline said.
Hannah hopped onto the seat beside Ethan, who’d grabbed the large sheet of bubble wrap that had covered the basket. He spread the wrap across their laps.
“Okay,” he said. “Here’s the deal. You start on your side, and I’ll start on mine. Whoever pops all the bubbles to reach the middle first wins…” He paused, as if thinking.
“Wins what?” Hannah asked.
Ethan looked at Caroline. “A trip to the rodeo.”
Hannah caught her breath. “A real rodeo? With horses?”
Ethan nodded. “The real deal. Ready. Set. Go.”
He paused to let Hannah pop the first bubble. It exploded with a bang that startled her, but she bent her head to her task and moved to the next bubble. By the time she’d worked a quarter of the way through the wrap, Hannah, miracle of miracles, was smiling.
Ethan slowed his progress and lifted his head to meet Caroline’s gaze.
Caroline tried to look away, but she was a goner. How could she not care for a man who had worked so hard to make a little girl smile?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“YOU WIN!” Ethan shouted when Hannah had popped the bubbles in the wrap all the way to the middle. “Next weekend, little lady, you’re going to the rodeo in Greenville!”
Hannah looked stunned. “Can Daniel come, too?”
“An excellent idea,” Ethan said with a wink at Caroline.
“But how will we get there?” Hannah asked.
Ethan pretended to think for a minute. “Maybe Caroline and I can take you in my truck.”
Hannah nodded, and some of the stiffness eased from her body. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Ethan said. “Now, how about I fix lunch while Caroline helps you unpack?”
Ethan was marvelous with children, Caroline thought. His sister must adore him. Caroline was finding him much too adorable herself.
“You like peanut butter and jelly?” Ethan asked Hannah.
“Yes, please.”
He pushed to his feet. “PB&J, coming right up.”
“We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Caroline said.
After Ethan left, Caroline turned to Hannah. “Let’s unpack your backpack.”
Hannah slid from the window seat and went to the backpack Caroline had placed on the bed. Hannah unzipped it and removed a small stack of clothes—jeans, a pair of shorts, two more T-shirts and a nightgown. The clothes, like the ones she wore, were faded and worn, looking like thrift store rejects. The child didn’t even own a second pair of shoes.
Caroline opened the bottom drawer of the bureau and placed the clothes inside. They didn’t fill the space.
“I know what we’ll do after lunch,” Caroline said.
Hannah looked at her, but said nothing.
“We’ll go shopping. Do you like to shop?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. We never went shopping, except sometimes to the grocery store.”
“We’ll go to Fulton’s Department Store, buy you some new clothes, then stop for ice cream at Paulie’s Drug Store.”
“Okay.” But the reply came without enthusiasm.
Caroline placed her hand on Hannah’s badly shorn head. “Who cut your hair, sweetie?”
“I did. I tried to cut it all off, but the scissors weren’t very good.”
“Why did you want it all off?”
“Because the other kids tease me and call me names, like carrottop.”
“When I was your age, one of my best friends had hair your color.”
“Did the kids tease her, too?”
Caroline nodded.
“Did she cry?”
Caroline thought of Brynn at Caroline’s age, but such a different child, infused with feisty self-confidence, even though she, too, had lost her mother. But Brynn had a father who’d worshipped his little girl. Hannah had no one, except an absent brother. “No, she didn’t cry. She laughed at them and told them they were just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Because they all had plain old blond or brown hair while hers was the color of new pennies.”
“Really?”
“Really. Brynn has beautiful hair—just like yours.”
Hannah looked doubtful, making Caroline all the more anxious to connect emotionally with her and somehow bolster the child’s self-esteem.
Maybe Caroline could get Amy Lou to even up Hannah’s haircut while they were in town this afternoon. And Amy Lou would get a chance to meet Hannah and perhaps change her mind about fostering the child.
* * *
THAT EVENING, Ethan put the last of the supper dishes in the dishwasher, added detergent and started the wash cycle. Upstairs, Caroline was getting Hannah ready for bed. He’d knocked himself out trying to elicit more smiles from the kid during the meal, but she’d remained her solemn, stoic little self. Just watching her tore at his heart and made him grateful for his parents, his siblings and his normal, fun-filled childhood. Jerry was gone, but the
years of life his brother had enjoyed had been happy ones. Ethan couldn’t remember when Jerry hadn’t been grinning or laughing, telling jokes and playing pranks, alive and loving it. Poor little Hannah acted as if life was one big funeral and she was the principal mourner.
What he wouldn’t give to coax a belly laugh out of her.
At the sound of footsteps in the upstairs hall, he moved into the front parlor to wait for Caroline. She descended the stairs, and when she saw him, made a quick swipe at her eyes. But not before he glimpsed tears.
“She’s asleep,” she said. “I think our shopping trip wore her out.”
“That and the trauma of coming to live with strangers.” He plopped onto the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “Bad enough the kid’s lost her mother. Now she’s lost everything that’s familiar, too.”
“But her former life must have been so grim.” Caroline sat beside him. “Her clothes were little more than rags, and it’s obvious she’s never had enough to eat. In spite of that, she barely touched her supper.”
“Give her time. She needs to adjust.”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you how great your bubble basket was.”
“I felt as if I struck out on that one. The kid’s obviously not into bubbles.”
“But at least you tried.”
“I remember how Amber used to love surprise presents when she was a kid, especially silly stuff. Hannah’s not into silly. She was probably born an adult.”
Caroline leaned back and pushed her fingers through her hair. “I feel so guilty.”
“About what?” Her wisteria scent threatened his concentration.
“About the fact that Hannah will no sooner become accustomed to this place before she’ll be moved to another home.” She turned to face him. “You should have seen her. She went through the motions of her bath, in spite of the bubbles, and getting ready for bed like a sleepwalker. The poor kid’s shell-shocked. She needs love and stability and joy in her life.”
“You can give her all that. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“I can’t give her anything if I’m not here.”
“No.” He hoped her thoughts were headed in the same direction as his.
Caroline leaned her head against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “I did a lot of thinking this afternoon.”
“And?” He held his breath.
“Watching Hannah, seeing how needy she is, I realize how truly selfish I am.”
“Thought we’d already covered the selfish angle and discounted it.”
She shook her head. “Only in theory. It takes on a whole other dimension when I’m with Hannah and see how unhappy she is. In light of that, what difference will another year make in fulfilling my dream?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m an adult who, as you said, should be used to delayed gratification. But Hannah needs so much, someone who’s always there for her with love and attention. And she needs it now.”
He sat very still, digesting her words. “Are you saying you won’t be leaving soon?”
Caroline bolted upright. “How can I? I’d be the worst kind of monster to abandon a little girl who needs me.”
I need you, too, he wanted to say, but didn’t. “What about your dreams?”
“New Mexico will still be there in a year.”
He needed every ounce of muscle control to keep from leaping from the couch and punching his fist in the air in celebration. He’d known Caroline couldn’t abandon Hannah. She was too innately good.
“But what happens to Hannah at the end of the year?” he asked. “If she grows to love you and you leave, won’t you be placing her in a situation similar to what she faces now?”
Caroline’s bright eyes dimmed. “I’ll have to find a new family for her in plenty of time for her to make a transition before I leave. In the meantime, she’ll be close to Daniel, and I can give her my undivided attention and care.”
“Maybe you’ll take her to New Mexico with you.” He hated to think of Caroline going away, but her amended schedule gave him time to plead his case. If things worked out the way he hoped, maybe she’d take him to New Mexico, too.
A ready-made family. The prospect pleased him.
Caroline shook her head. “It’s too soon to plan. I’ll just have to wait and see what develops. Maybe Cat and Jim Stratton will agree to take Hannah in a year when I get ready to leave. Cat’s a teacher and wonderful with children. And Jim’s a vet who could provide her with exposure to the horses she loves. Hannah would be happy there.”
Ethan reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “What’s important is that you’ll be here now, when Hannah needs you.”
“What if I’m not enough? What if I can’t melt that icy shell she’s encased in?”
“Don’t borrow trouble.” With his other hand, he hooked a blond curl behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “Hannah hasn’t been here a full day yet. She needs time to adjust, to trust you.”
“What’s trust got to do with it?” She leaned into the palm of his hand.
“Everyone has walked out on this kid in one way or another. Her father, her mother. Even Daniel, when he got into trouble. She needs to trust that you’ll be here for her.”
Caroline jerked away, stood, and paced in the middle of the room. “But I won’t. Not if I’m leaving in a year, once Daniel finishes high school. Hannah will just add me to the list of people who’ve deserted her.”
He pushed to his feet, went to her, and wrapped his arms around her. “It will work out. One way or another.”
She leaned back in his arms and stared at him, as if searching his face for answers. “How can you be so sure?”
“You have to have faith that events happen for a reason. That there’s a purpose, especially for the people who come and go in our lives.”
Her scrutiny deepened. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
To his surprise, he felt a shift in his heart, a hairline crack in the hard shell that had imprisoned him since Jerry’s death. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was different, not as all-consuming and relentless as it had been. And in place of the agony flowed an emotion so powerful, it took his breath.
Forgetting his promise to himself to take things slow, he bent his head and claimed her lips. She stiffened at first, then melted against him. He could feel the thud of her heartbeat as she lifted her arms to the back of his neck. A happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time flooded through him.
Suddenly she jerked away and cocked her head. “Listen.”
With reluctance, he released her and heard what had captured her attention. In the stillness of the old house, small sobs sounded in the upstairs bedroom.
“It’s Hannah,” Caroline said. “She’s awake. And it sounds like she’s crying her eyes out. I should go to her.”
Caroline broke from his embrace, crossed the room and hurried up the stairs. Concerned for Hannah, Ethan followed.
He entered Hannah’s room as Caroline climbed beside the little girl on the big bed, put her arms around the sobbing child, and stroked her hair. The only illumination came from a daisy-shaped night light and moonbeams filtering through the curtains, but Ethan could see well enough to make out the streaks of tears on Hannah’s face.
“Shhh,” Caroline whispered to the child. “It’s all right. I’m here, and I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“I’m here, too.” Ethan settled into the w
icker chair beside the bed.
Caroline held Hannah, crooned lullabies, and rocked her. Ethan stretched his legs in front of him, determined to remain until the child fell asleep. Eventually, the only sounds were the ticking and occasional chime of the grandfather clock in the downstairs hall, the rustle of wind in the maples outside the open window, and Caroline’s soft, even breathing, synchronized with Hannah’s.
Ethan waited until he was certain both Hannah and Caroline were asleep. Then he took a quilt from the foot of the bed, tucked it around Caroline, kissed her forehead, and left the room.
He eased down the stairs and out the front door to keep from waking them, and, although he was headed to his lonely room at Orchard Cottage, his spirits lifted with an emotion he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAROLINE PULLED OFF her broad-brimmed straw hat, wiped berry-stained fingers on her cutoff jeans, and called to Hannah a few feet down the drive from the entrance to the farmhouse. “Ready for a break? I have lemonade in the cooler.”
“Okay.” Hannah dropped the blackberry she had just plucked into the galvanized pail at her feet, picked up the bucket, and brought it to Caroline.
Caroline peeked inside the pail where berries barely covered the bottom. With Hannah using only thumb and forefinger and selecting each berry with the precision of a quality control inspector, the girl might pick all day and not fill the bucket. But lack of production wasn’t Caroline’s concern.
“Are you having fun, sweetie?”
“Yes…but not as much fun as the rodeo last week.” Hannah turned her face upward and met Caroline’s gaze with her customary solemn expression. “I really liked the horses.”
“I did, too.” Wanting to hug the child but knowing from experience that she’d resist, Caroline instead took a can of lemonade from the ice in the cooler, popped the top and handed it to Hannah. “Some day, I’d like to have a horse.”
Hannah’s expression brightened to almost a smile. “Will you let me ride it?”
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