face to face with Ariane, doubt disintegrated. Those eyes, that hair, even the shy, questioning tilt of the head, were unmistakeable. Was it possible for a child to inherit a gesture, a way of holding themselves, if they’d never spent time with their birth family?
The impossible was real. Real and here before her.
Searing emotion smacked Caro in the chest. She gulped a noisy breath, unable to fill straining lungs. Her eyes filled—her first tears in years.
Instantly the little girl backed away.
That was possibly the only thing that could have helped Caro get a grip, the sight of Ariane retreating.
From somewhere Caro conjured a wobbly smile.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ She lifted a hand to her eye, blinking back the unshed tears. ‘I think I had something in my eye. Now, tell me about your bear. He’s called Maxim?’
Ariane nodded but kept her distance.
‘That’s a fine name.’ Caro resisted the urge to move closer. She’d already upset the poor kid with her tears. It would do no good to rush this, though instinct urged her to wrap her arms around the child and hold her tight. ‘Did you know there was once a king called Maxim? He was very brave. He fought off the pirates who tried to invade St Ancilla.’
Ariane took a step nearer. ‘That’s where I come from.’ She tilted her head. ‘Are you from there too?’
‘I am.’ Caro let her smile widen. She’d never allowed herself to imagine having this conversation, as if it might tempt fate into obliterating all her hopes.
This was a bittersweet moment. Sweet because after all the grief and years of emptiness, Caro had found the girl she hadn’t known about. Bitter because of those wasted years.
But there was no time for dwelling on past wrongs. Suddenly Caro had never felt more alive, more brimming with excitement.
‘What happened to Maxim? Was he in a battle with pirates too?’
Ariane smiled and Caro felt it like a dart of sunshine piercing her heart. ‘No, silly. There aren’t really pirates.’
‘Aren’t there?’ Caro stared at the bright face with the dimpling cheeks and felt her insides melt.
Ariane shook her head. ‘No. Uncle Jake said so.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘So don’t be scared if you dream about them. They’re not real.’
‘That’s good to know. Thank you.’
Did that mean Ariane often had nightmares? Again Caro resisted the impulse to gather her close.
Ariane tilted her head, clearly curious. ‘Who are you? You look...’ her forehead scrunched in concentration ‘...like someone I know.’
Caro’s heart thudded high in her throat. ‘Do I? Who do I look like?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
Caro drew in a slow breath, reminding herself Ariane was a little girl. She imagined Caro was familiar, possibly because they were from the same place. Maybe speaking Ancillan made her seem familiar. There was no more to it. Anything else was impossible, even if Caro felt the connection between them as a tangible bond.
‘What happened to Maxim if he wasn’t fighting pirates?’
Ariane pouted. ‘I don’t know. I woke up and he was like this.’
Caro eyed the bear, with its fur rubbed off on one side where he’d clearly been cuddled a lot. She’d guess Ariane usually held him by that arm and the stitching had given way after much use.
‘That’s easily fixed.’
‘It is?’
‘Of course. All we need is a needle and thread to sew him back together.’
Ariane stepped closer and held out the brown bear and his separated arm. ‘Can you fix him now? Please?’
Those huge eyes in that grave little face would make any heart melt. As for Caro, it took everything she had to keep things light.
‘I don’t have any thread with me but we can patch him up till we get some.’
‘Patch him?’
‘Yes. If you get my bag from near the desk I’ll see what I can do.’ Because even now her knees felt too wobbly to take her weight.
She watched the girl dart across the room. Obviously Maxim was a much-loved bear. Who’d given it to her? Her parents? Her Uncle Jake?
Caro thought of the self-contained man who’d interrogated her across the desk and tried to imagine him with this precious little girl. She couldn’t conjure the image, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He was protective of Ariane.
‘Here.’ She held out Caro’s capacious bag.
‘Thank you.’ Caro barely stopped herself calling the child by her name. ‘My name is Caro. Can you say that?’
‘Caro. That’s easy.’
‘And what’s your name?’
‘Ariane.’
‘What a pretty name.’
‘My daddy said he and Mummy picked it because I was so pretty.’ Those big eyes filled with tears and Ariane’s chin wobbled.
Caro’s excitement shattered, her insides curdling. Ariane had lost her parents. She was grieving.
‘I can see that,’ Caro said slowly as she reached for her bag and began to rummage in it. ‘I know some girls in St Ancilla who are called Ariane. They’re named for a famous lady. She was very pretty, but more importantly she was kind and brave too.’
‘She was?’ Ariane blinked up at her, diverted.
‘Oh, yes. She lived a long time ago before there were good hospitals and medicines. When all the people were very sick from a bad illness the lords and ladies shut themselves away because they were afraid they would get sick too. But Ariane came out of her castle and visited the poor people. She made sure they had food and clean water and helped them get better.’
‘I want to be like her. I want to help.’
‘Well,’ Caro said slowly, withdrawing a scarf from her bag, ‘you can get some practice now, helping Maxim. Here. Can you hold his arm like this?’
Ariane nodded and stood by Caro’s knee, head bent as she concentrated on holding the bear and his arm in just the right way. Caro felt the brush of her soft little hand. A flutter of sensation rippled up Caro’s arm, arrowing to her heart. She tugged in a tremulous breath and focused on fashioning the scarf into a sling.
There’d be time for emotion later, when she was
