focused on what was at hand.
“Ella.” Denny heaved out a sigh, leaning against the doorjamb, watching as Evangeline unzipped the stained sleeper.
“Does she have any other clothes?” Evangeline asked, making a face at the sight of the equally stained onesie underneath the sleeper.
“Deb said there was some in the suitcase,” Denny muttered. By the time he returned, Evangeline had filled the tub with water and had dealt with the dirty diaper. The sleeper and onesie she had tossed into a pile.
Ella was quiet now, her unblinking eyes flickering from Denny to Evangeline. Back and forth, back and forth, as if trying to figure out what she was supposed to do with these two strangers.
Evangeline looked around for soap and was surprised to find a bar already set out.
“Do you have a clean towel?” she asked.
“Yeah. Um. I’ll get it.” He pulled open a cupboard door and Ella turned her wide eyes to Evangeline as if seeking answers to questions she couldn’t articulate.
“Hey, little one,” Evangeline said, cupping the warm water and pouring it over her body. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Denny, who hovered in the background, his hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jeans, looking puzzled and concerned at the same time.
“So why do you think she’s not your daughter?”
Denny blew out a sigh. “Deb said my name is on the birth certificate. But Lila and I were married for five years and she never became pregnant. I thought she couldn’t have kids. But if she’s eighteen months old, as Deb says she is, maybe. She might be.” He blew out another sigh as he stepped closer, as if to get a better look at his daughter.
Evangeline felt her initial reaction to Denny had been justified. No hero material here.
She finished washing Ella, who was quiet now, which made Evangeline even more concerned than her outraged sorrow had.
“Can you hand me the towel?” she asked, pulling the plug in the bathtub.
A thick yellow towel appeared over her shoulder. She wrapped it around Ella’s shining little body and patted her dry.
“Do you have the bag of clothes?” she asked, turning to get up. But the weight of Ella sent her off balance and she stumbled.
Denny caught her by the arms, steadying her. His hands were large and warm and solid.
She looked up at him, surprised to see him staring down at her, a peculiar light in his eyes. Then he blinked and Evangeline wondered if she had imagined it. He released her and stepped aside.
“The suitcase with the clothes is in the living room,” he muttered as Evangeline walked past him. “I picked some out.”
Ella was quiet as Evangeline set her on the floor beside the suitcase, then sat, cross-legged, to dress her.
“I don’t know if the clothes are okay,” Denny muttered, hovering behind her. “Wasn’t much to choose from...” He let the sentence trail off, as if unsure what to say.
Evangeline choked down a laugh at the sight of the tiny blue flannel shirt and blue jeans he had laid out on the floor. Exactly like the clothes he favored.
She found another onesie and some socks among the sparse offering of clothing and made quick work of putting another diaper on Ella and then the onesie. Settling the little girl on her lap, she wrestled her feet into the socks, then the blue jeans. Then she worked the shirt onto the now-squirming little girl.
By the time Evangeline snapped up the shirt, Ella was leaning away from her. She elbowed Evangeline in her chest as she scrambled to her feet. She fell, quickly pushed herself upright, then toddled over to an empty box in the middle of the living room and started pushing it.
Her hair was a mess of damp curls. Evangeline would have to wait for Ella to settle down before running a brush through them.
“She seems happier,” Denny said, dropping into a chair beside Evangeline, resting his elbows on his knees.
Evangeline pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, her skirt puddling onto the floor around her legs. In contrast to her wails of a few moments ago, Ella now made no sound at all, seemingly content to push the empty box around the floor.
But happy? Evangeline doubted it. The little girl had a look of adult resignation on her face. She didn’t even so much as look at either Evangeline or Denny, her entire concentration on the box.
“So now what?” Evangeline asked.
Denny heaved out a sigh and Evangeline shot a quick look his way. He was staring at Ella, her dirty onesie and sleeper dangling from his hands, still looking as confused as when she’d first walked in on them.
“I have no idea.”
“This Deb woman you were yelling at...” Evangeline paused, not sure how much she was allowed to ask of someone she had only met a couple of days ago.
“My sister-in-law,” he said. “Lila’s sister.”
“And Lila is your wife?”
“Was my wife.” This elicited another sigh. “Deb just told me that she died...that she died a month ago.” Denny stopped there, his voice breaking, and Evangeline reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
Denny shot her a quick look of thanks. “I didn’t know she was sick. We had been divorced for a couple of years. We didn’t stay in touch.” He released a harsh laugh. “Deb didn’t even call me when she died. I knew Deb disliked me, but really...” His voice faded away as he shook his head again.
“You didn’t know about Lila’s death before today?”
“Not a clue.” Denny bunched the clothes in his hands, his knuckles growing white. “She was my wife and I had to hear about it like this.” Denny dropped the clothes and shoved his hands through his hair.
“I’m so sorry,” Evangeline murmured, not sure what else to say. She felt bad for the man. “That must be hard news.”
They were quiet a moment, then Denny dragged his hand over his face, rasping on the stubble on his chin. “It is. A bit. Trouble is Lila and I weren’t close. After the divorce she never wrote, never called. But she was my wife. I should have been told. I would have gone to the funeral.”
Evangeline caught the plaintive note in his deep voice. It wasn’t hard to see that in spite of what he said about his ex-wife, he had cared for her.
So what had happened to instigate the divorce?
She dismissed the question as quickly as it formed. She didn’t need to get involved with Denny’s obviously messy past.
“So what’s the story with Ella, then?” she asked, watching the toddler push the box around, her passive expression more heartbreaking than her tears had been. This little child had been uprooted from her life, dropped into someone else’s, with no consideration for her feelings. Who knew what she was thinking.
“I don’t
