Susan Floyd - My Three Girls

“Surprised?”

“I thought that Child Protective Services would have at least sent a woman, since these are three young girls.”

Brady swallowed, not wanting to lie to her. “I was sent out to evaluate the situation,” he said instead. He wasn’t sure who this was. Was she the schoolteacher’s daughter? He couldn’t stop staring at the freckles splattered across her nose as if someone had taken a paintbrush and flicked it at her. She couldn’t be a day over thirty. Her plain T-shirt was tucked neatly into some well-fitting jeans, making her seem more youthful than she probably was.

She stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. “I am so glad you were able to get here on such short notice. I’m Dana Ritchie, Panoche School’s teacher.”

Brady hid his surprise as he stepped through the doorway. “You live alone, right?”

“Yes,” she said abruptly. “Is that a problem?”

Brady wondered what was making her so defensive. “No. But you ought to get the door frame done in steel. And get a dead bolt and a peephole rather than that chain. You might want a dog for some additional protection.”

She blinked at him, a small smile coming to her lips. “I’ll talk to the school board about that on Monday. I’m not sure a dog is in my contract.”

Brady stepped farther into the foyer, pulling out his notebook. “Now, what’s the problem?”

She put her finger over her mouth, tilting her head in the direction of the living room. “The girls are sleeping,” she whispered. “They’ve been waiting a long time.”

Brady swallowed. There was always a chance that these weren’t his nieces.

“May I see them?” he asked.

She nodded and quietly walked toward the couch.

Brady looked down at the sleeping girls. Their hair was falling over their faces, so he couldn’t tell. Then the oldest girl’s eyes popped open, wide and gray, guarded.

“Uncle Brady.” It was a flat statement, surprising him. He didn’t think Karen would recognize him. She’d only been seven when she’d last seen him.

“Karen.”

“Uncle Brady?” the schoolteacher asked.

Brady stared at the woman who faced him, her head tilted, her eyes ready to do combat for these girls. “Brady Moore. I’m their uncle, their father’s brother.”

HE WAS THEIR UNCLE. These girls had family! Dana nodded and moved away, leaving Karen and the deputy watching each other. She was sure that he wasn’t displeased by Karen, but he was glowering at the little girl. Surprisingly, Karen didn’t blink. Her jaw tightened, but she never broke eye contact.

Quickly on the heels of the relief that came from learning the girls had family were second thoughts. How could Dana let these girls go off with a man who didn’t even smile?

She glanced at Karen whose fingers poked through the holes of the afghan as she clutched it close to her. She didn’t seem frightened, but neither was she reassured by the presence of her uncle. Dana took a deep breath and surprised herself by laying her hand on his arm.

“Deputy,” Dana said to break the tension. He shifted his sharp gaze to her, and she tilted her chin to stare back. If Karen wasn’t going to be intimidated, she wouldn’t be either. She supposed he couldn’t change the angles of his jaw to make him seem less authoritative or alter the keen intelligence in his eyes to make him appear less intense. She tried not to notice the flat crease of his pants. Meticulous. Not a hair out of place, not a little bit of five o’clock shadow.

On top of that, she noted with irritation, he was damn composed, given the situation he was in. Shouldn’t he show just a smidge of embarrassment at his sister-in-law’s behavior or some other kind of emotion that indicated this was a big deal? If Karen’s reaction was any gauge, they weren’t close. Yet Dana could feel him radiate a peculiar—for lack of a better word—detachment that she found more disturbing than his physical presence. His eyes swept over the room as if he was used to evaluating everything he saw.

She didn’t know why a hot flush began to inch up her neck. She wasn’t ashamed of her modest home. The furniture might not match, the rug was a brown, teal and purple throwback to the seventies, and the only decorations were student art projects from years before, but the place was clean and she liked it. So what if it screamed spinster schoolmarm.

He looked at her hand. “That grip is lethal.”

Her face grew hotter when she realized she’d been clutching his arm. She abruptly dropped her hand and swung it behind her back.

“Maybe you should explain a few things,” she suggested, glancing at the girls, all of whom were awake now.

Instead of responding, he watched the girls get off the couch and move over to Dana—who tried not to appear startled when Ollie’s arm wrapped around her thigh.

“So, who do we have here?” he asked. Apparently, he realized that his glowering wasn’t helping, because he crouched to give them a better look at him and kept his voice even and modulated. It sounded like a voice he used to calm, to hypnotize. Dana was impressed. She didn’t want to be, but she was.

The same couldn’t be said for the girls. They didn’t say a word.

“I’m your Uncle Brady.” He tried again with a smile, addressing Ollie but looking at Karen. “I’m sure you don’t remember me. You were just a baby when I last saw you. You sure have grown.”

Silence.

“I guess your mom is gone?”

Dana had to give him points for trying. She prodded Karen, but the girl wasn’t going to talk. Her gray eyes were huge as she sent Dana a silent plea to intercede.

“She went to a conference,” Dana said, looking at Karen for confirmation.

Karen nodded and tugged on Dana’s arm. “Miss Ritchie,” she whispered.

“Yes, Karen?” Dana kept her voice low, though she knew Deputy Moore could hear every word they were saying.

“Don’t let him take us.” Her face had turned white.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Karen. He’s family.” Dana’s soothing words had the opposite effect on the girl. All the stoicism Karen had shown earlier was suddenly replaced with deep and uncontrollable sobs. Jean quickly started whimpering in sympathy.

The deputy looked at Dana for help, but she didn’t know what to do.

“D-don’t let h-him take us, Miss Ri-ritchie,” Karen begged, her pleas coming out in an agonized rush. “We’ll be good. We’ll be so very good f-for you. We’ll do everything you say and we’ll help around the house. W-we won’t be any trouble.”

Biting her lip, Dana reached out a hand and gave Karen’s shoulder an awkward pat. “Karen, I know this is a scary situation for you…” Even to her, her words were meaningless. When had she became so empty, so devoid of compassion that she couldn’t gather a scared child into her arms and comfort her? Dana felt as if she had a dry piece of bread stuck in her throat. This was how it started. It only took one hug to open a heart. No matter how much Dana wanted to make this situation right, she couldn’t.

She backed away, feeling as alone as Karen looked. She whispered into Ollie’s ear. “I think Karen really needs a hug from you and Jean, don’t you?”

Ollie let go of Dana’s leg and flung her short arms around her older sister. Jean followed suit and together, the three girls sobbed.

“Can you keep them tonight?” a voice asked, low in her ear. She hadn’t even seen him move, but he was right next to her and Dana felt her face flush under his steady scrutiny.

What a cold woman he must think she was. She turned away from him, not too numb to feel a tremendous amount of regret about that. She crossed her arms and pressed them closely to her chest to keep control of any feelings that threatened to erupt from within.