We’ve an address, and I already sent a telegram requesting a meeting with the mother.”
She picked at her skirt, unable to bear looking at the triumph splayed across his features. This would be the end, then.
“Mary, aren’t you happy?” He dropped down in front of her. She saw the wince that flashed across his face before he masked it. Eyes alight, he peered at her. “She needs her home. Her mother. This place is no good for a child. I’m going to make sure she and her mother are protected.”
He was right, of course. Allowing Josie to stay only fulfilled her desires. A lonely desert with scattered neighbors could not possibly meet a child’s need for companionship. She stared down at her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap.
Lou sighed. “I wish you’d talk to me. Communicate.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Say we’re doing the right thing here. That you want to give a mother back her daughter.”
Her head shot up as a bolt of anger darted through her. Her nerve endings tingled with the prickly feeling. “If this mother wants her daughter, why has she not been scouring the countryside for her? Posting pictures and letters? I have seen little evidence that Josie is wanted.”
A gasp came from the front door, followed by pattering feet as the little girl raced away. Mary cringed.
“She needs to stop eavesdropping,” Lou said in a grim voice. He rose very slowly, and Mary could tell he’d fatigued himself.
She wanted to run after Josie but didn’t know what she’d say. The truth was, no one but that dreadful man had looked for the little girl. And Mary wanted her to stay. To be family.
Lou was still looking at her, seriousness shadowing his expression. Why did he want Josie gone so bad? Why did he shy away from the little girl and even seem afraid of her at times?
“And if I do not wish to travel with you?” she asked, watching him carefully. “You will be forced to care for Josie yourself. To see to her needs. To be her sole caretaker.”
“If you don’t pack, then you won’t go. That’s all there is to it.” He stood, turning away so she could no longer see his face.
Empathy battled with frustration. She could go with him now, but that would leave Josie in a bad place. The thought of leaving the little girl hurt too much to dwell on. If she refused to go, what could he do to her? Not much, she surmised.
Mind made up, she stood, straightening her skirt with the movement. He shuffled around, shoulders straight despite the obvious pain striking his features.
She leveled her gaze on him, refusing to let him see how horrible she felt that he was in such distress. “I will not go until you can move without pain.”
“That so?” he said quietly. Challenge filled the blueness of his eyes and an unwelcome ping of excitement zipped through her. These weeks together were revealing a side to her nature she hadn’t suspected existed. A side that seemed to enjoy his challenges, to revel in tension.
The thought was discomfiting, at best. She returned his stare, even though her stomach roiled and her palms slicked.
After a tense minute of silence, she spoke, her voice clear and even, much to her relief. “I must find Josie. She should not have heard our conversation.” It hurt to think her words had caused Josie pain. She, who tried so hard to be quiet and speak wisely, had been undone by her unreasonable, blasé employer.
“I’m coming with.”
She swished forward. “You can hardly walk. Lie down and recover if you wish to return Josie.”
“That girl’s leaving tomorrow.” As Mary passed, Lou reached out and gripped her arm. His touch imprinted her skin with heat.
“Why do you care so much? She’s just a little girl.” Slowly, she removed her arm, amazed she felt no fear at his handling but rather wary at what she did feel: a nervous tension that had nothing to do with fear.
“This place isn’t safe for her.” He gave her his profile.
“So you’ve said, but why? It is unlikely that man would think she’s here.” She studied the stubborn line of his nose, the shape of his square, unyielding jaw. Somewhere a little girl cried for a home she’d lost, and here she stood, interrogating a man who didn’t seem to care.
Annoyed at herself, she let out a huff. “Never mind. It’s obvious I’m not the only one who has trouble communicating.”
Aiming that last comment at the doorway, she stalked out of the sitting room and then hurried down the hallway. James was rocking on the front porch when she burst out the door. An uppity wind brushed past, tangling her skirt and hair in its wake.
“Have you seen Josie?”
“Went thataway.” He pointed in the direction of Trevor’s house. Her home.
“Thank you.” She darted off the porch and ran to the house. Halfway there, she had to stop and gasp for air. This was her fault. Maybe Lou was right. Maybe Josie needed to be with her mother. Perhaps there was a reason the woman hadn’t searched for her daughter. Josie had mentioned illness.
Then again, some mothers, for one reason or another, couldn’t expend the energy to find their children.
She frowned and kept walking, trying to ignore the whispery accusation toward her own mother who’d dropped her off with Trevor’s mom at the age of twelve and never looked back. Not until it was too late and the emotional damage had been done.
Her breath hitched. Taking a moment to inhale and exhale, to remember God and how He’d protected her, was not only good for the lungs but good for the soul.
As she inhaled the cleansing scents of pine, sage and desert brush, her pulse slowed and her vision sharpened on the little house that grew larger as she drew near. A curtain flickered in the window.
Feeling deep chagrin, she kept her legs moving until she’d reached the door. Opening it, she stepped into the house. The living room smelled like cookies. Sugar cookies. Tinged with the underlying aroma of wood floor polish. A comforting welcome.
“Josie?” She shut the door behind her. “Sweetie, please come talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk.” Her mulish voice drifted from the sofa. A blanket covered a misshapen lump but didn’t quite reach the stockinged foot peeking from beneath its edge. “I’m going to run away.”
Unsure, Mary stayed rooted near the door. Should she take the girl to task for talking in such a way? Or should she go hug her...? Indecision was a heavy coat she couldn’t seem to shrug off, so she just stood there, kneading her fingers against her skirt.
If only she owned an instruction manual for parenting.
Finally, Josie flipped the blanket off. Her blond curls stood at attention, static fuzzing them up into a rat’s nest. An unruly giggle snickered past Mary’s lips.
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “Go away.”
“This is my home.”
