Squeezing her eyes shut, Rachel rubbed them with her fists. When she opened her eyes, Sam’s gaze was boring into hers. His features froze in a blanket of guilt. One toe dug into the dirt until the swing was merely rocking side to side.
His frantic gaze jittered to his friends. “I found Emily and Timmy. Timmy missed Pooky.”
Struggling to control herself, Rachel rushed forward to grab him by the arm. She’d never mishandled him before, but now she found herself shaking him by the shoulders.
“You know better than to wander off,” she hissed. Her breath came in ragged gasps. “What if someone had seen you?”
Sam whimpered, and his face went white. Too late, Rachel remembered his injuries. Stupid, that’s what her brother always said.
“Don’t hurt him,” Emily said in a small voice. “It was my fault. Mine and Timmy’s. We saw him on the hill and called to him.”
Rachel whirled to face them. “Leave him alone from now on, do you hear me? You could have lost him to me.” Aware she was babbling but unable to control herself, she whipped back around to Sam and turned him to face the hillside. “Go, Sam. Run to the top of the hill. I’ll follow you.”
Sam took off like a deer with a dog at his heels, though with his limp his progress was slower than she would have liked. As Rachel followed, she could feel the stares of the children boring into her back. All she could do was hope they had enough sense to keep their mouths shut.
She stopped at the gate and turned to face them again. “You tell anyone about us, and I’ll come to you in the middle of the night and take you away. You hear me?” She saw the stuffed bear clutched in Timmy’s hand. “And don’t tell anyone about the bear. Not anyone, do you understand?”
Timmy’s face screwed up with tears and he nodded. Emily gulped but held her head high. “We won’t tell anyone,” she said.
“You’d better not,” Rachel warned. As she ran through the gate, she passed the kitchen window and saw a teenager talking on the phone. The girl’s mouth dropped open and she came closer to the window. She just prayed the girl hadn’t seen Sam. Her lungs burning in her chest and her eyes hot with unshed tears, she raced up the hill.
What had she become that she would frighten children? And even her own Sam had looked at her through terror-filled eyes. Rachel felt such self-loathing, she wished she could die. But all she could do was get them both home and out of these woods before those children finally told someone about her.
Noiselessly, Naomi pulled the door shut behind her then breathed a sigh of relief that her mother hadn’t awakened from her afternoon nap. The last thing she wanted was to be peppered with questions about what she was doing. Naomi wasn’t even sure herself what she was doing.
She’d hung out at the hardware store for two weeks, and while Donovan seemed to enjoy her company, he had yet to extend an invitation to dinner or a movie or otherwise indicate he saw her as anything more than a friend. Naomi grimaced. Maybe she was fooling herself. What made her think an attractive man like Donovan O’Reilly would be interested in her? He could have his pick of women in Rock Harbor.
Naomi shifted the offering she held in her hands, and the aroma of cheesy potatoes baked with thick chunks of ham drifted to her nose. The warmth of the dish contrasted sharply with the cold thud of her heart. What would he think when she showed up at the door? She gulped and headed toward her Honda CR-V.
Charley pressed his nose against the living room window and stared after her with a mournful expression. Naomi opened the truck door and set the casserole inside then wiggled her fingers at her dog. Charley disappeared from the window, and she knew he would ignore her as punishment when she returned. He hated to be left behind.
Maybe she should have brought him. Charley might have helped break the ice with the children, especially Emily. The little girl made no effort to hide her disdain of Naomi. Naomi didn’t understand it. At church the children flocked around her, and she was the baby-sitter of choice for half the town.
Naomi glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her own anxious brown eyes peered back at her, and she nearly groaned aloud. Add a pinafore and she’d look like a little girl. Her cheeks were too round, and those ridiculous curls just added to the immature effect. Maybe she should have straightened her hair and worn something besides jeans, but she’d wanted her arrival to appear casual.
Keeping an eye on the traffic, which in Rock Harbor was no chore, she dug through the paraphernalia in her purse and pulled out a red lipstick. Maybe that would add a sheen of sophistication. But the slash of red across her lips merely made her look like a little girl playing dress up. She blotted it with a tissue and sighed. You’d think a woman of nearly thirty-two wouldn’t look like such an ingénue.
She parked in front of the house, taking a deep breath before she climbed out with the casserole in hand. Donovan’s car, a blue Ford sedan, sprawled across the driveway like he’d been in too much of a hurry to park in a straight line.
Naomi’s legs wobbled as she walked to the door. She pinned what she hoped was an impersonal smile on her face as she pressed the doorbell firmly. When Donovan opened the door and she found herself staring into his dark blue eyes, she lost the carefully rehearsed speech.
“Oh, um, hi, Donovan. I had some . . . some casserole. I mean, I made too much casserole for supper and thought of . . . um, have you eaten yet?” Heat rose up her neck and settled in her cheeks, and she knew she looked like a rosy-cheeked child. Donovan, bless his heart, didn’t seem to notice her agitation, and Naomi felt a wave of gratitude come over her.
“Naomi, hello. Come on in. You’re a godsend. I was just staring in the refrigerator, wondering what I could fix. The kids are nattering about that witch of the woods again and her little boy. I swear, I don’t know where they get their imaginations.” He stepped aside to allow her entry then followed her to the kitchen.
The children were seated at the kitchen table. Emily’s eyes darkened with hostility when she saw Naomi, but Timmy ran to her and threw his arms around her legs. Naomi’s grip on the casserole dish loosened, but she managed to hang on to it. Setting it on the table, she scooped Timmy into her arms. He wrapped himself around her like a monkey, and she enjoyed the feel of his small body nestled against her.
“I’ll get the plates out,” Donovan said. “You’ll join us, won’t you?” The earnestness of his expression warmed Naomi like soup on a snowy afternoon.
“I’d like that.” She ignored Emily’s glare and settled onto a chair with Timmy still on her lap. Glancing around, she noticed smears of mud on the kitchen floor and piles of dirty dishes in the sink. Their top-to-bottom housecleaning hadn’t lasted long, but then it wouldn’t with two children around.
Timmy wound one of Naomi’s curls around his finger and gazed into her face with rapt attention. Naomi smoothed the hair back from his face. “How about we get you washed up for supper?” she told him. “Come on, Emily, you could use a wash too.”
Emily put her small hands on her hips and scowled. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.”
“Emily, mind your manners,” her father said sharply. “Go along with Naomi.”
Emily’s scowl deepened, and she stomped after Naomi and Timmy. In the bathroom she refused to look at Naomi. Naomi put Timmy down, and he went to the sink.
Naomi glanced around the cluttered bathroom. Towels lay on the floor in crumpled heaps. Two boats lay upside down in the bathtub, and a rubber duck sat motionless in a shallow puddle of water on the floor. She picked up the towels and hung them on the side of the tub to dry, taking time to mop up the standing water as well.
“Are you a maid or something?” Emily’s upper lip curled.
“No, but there’s nothing wrong with doing housework. Don’t you like an orderly home? I always find it soothes me to have everything in its place.”
“I like my house just fine,” Emily proclaimed. She flounced to the sink and washed her hands with gusto, flinging water onto the already spot
ted wall and floor.
Naomi bit her lip. How could she reach this little girl? She cleared her throat. “You have such pretty hair, Emily. Is your mother’s hair that color?”
Emily’s noisy splashing grew still. “Don’t talk about my mother,” she said in a muffled voice. “I don’t need another one.”
What a stupid comment! She’d forgotten Donovan’s ex-wife hadn’t been back to see the kids since she left. Town rumor had it that she’d moved to California and was modeling. The woman was beautiful, but Naomi couldn’t see how any fame or fortune could replace her two darling children.
“Is that why you don’t like me? You think I’d try to take her place?” Naomi touched Emily’s shoulder, and the little girl flinched away.
Lifting her chin, Emily glared at Naomi. “You want to be my friend so Daddy will like you. But I don’t want you for a friend. I want Bree to be my friend and for Daddy to like her.”
Naomi gulped. Were her feelings for Donovan so apparent? Looking into Emily’s sneering face, she saw a loneliness there that broke her heart. “Bree is my friend too,” she said quietly. “Can you and I just be friends without involving your daddy?”
Emily stared at her suspiciously. “I’ll have to think about it.” But the set of her chin told Naomi her mind was made up and she wanted nothing to do with any grown woman except Bree.
Naomi stood. “We’d better eat before our supper gets cold.” It had been a mistake to come. Donovan probably saw right through her as well. Her face burned as she dried her hands and followed the children back to the kitchen.
Donovan had made an attempt to clear some of the clutter while they were gone. He turned a tired but eager smile toward them that soothed Naomi’s bruised ego.
They sat at the table, and Timmy said grace. Naomi spooned the casserole onto plates while Donovan poured milk for the children.
“I’m afraid all I have is milk or water,” he said.
“Water is fine,” she told him.
He poured water for both of them and sat beside her. Naomi caught a whiff of his cologne, a warm, spicy scent. His warmth radiated into her arm, and her throat grew so tight she wasn’t sure she could eat.
She cleared her throat. “What was this about the witch of the woods?” she asked.
“Ask the kids,” Donovan said with a heavy sigh.
Naomi lifted an eyebrow as she looked at Emily. “Is this the same person you saw in the woods when you were lost?”
“Yes, but she didn’t have her hat on today,” Timmy put in eagerly. “Sam came to play, and she was mad.”
“Sam?”
“Her son, I guess. He’s not supposed to go anywhere unless she says it’s okay,” Emily said with a warning look at her brother. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. She said she’d get us in the middle of the night if we told. But it’s okay to tell you, Daddy, right? We can tell you without getting into trouble?”
“You can tell me anything,” Donovan said. “But there is no witch of the woods, Emily. You know that.”
She thrust out a chin that looked like a small version of Donovan’s own. “There is, Daddy. We saw her, right, Timmy? We were swinging after school, and there she was.”
Her brother nodded. “And Sam.”
“That’s enough, kids,” Donovan said. “Lauri was here with you, and she didn’t say a word about a woman and her son. Imagination is fine, but lying is not, and you both know it.”
“Lauri was in the house talking to her boyfriend,” Emily said. “Sam was only here a few minutes.”
“Just like William, the talking tiger who came for a visit last summer, right?”
Emily flushed. “That was just pretend, Daddy; this is real.”
“Emily, that’s enough. I won’t tolerate lying, and you know it. Now eat your supper and don’t say another word about it.”
Emily evidently recognized her father’s warning tone, for she picked up her fork and lapsed into a sullen silence. “They were here,” she muttered under her breath, too softly for anyone except Naomi to hear. Emily flashed a glare at Naomi, as if daring her to tattle.
Naomi gave her a tiny smile of sympathy. Emily must be very lonely to hold to her story that way. “After supper, I’ll push you in the swing,” she offered.
A tiny flicker of interest lit Emily’s eyes but quickly died. She picked at her food listlessly. Timmy began cramming the food into his mouth until he looked like a chipmunk.
Naomi smiled in amusement then turned to catch Donovan’s gaze. Was it her imagination, or was there an awareness in Donovan’s eyes she’d never seen before? Her cheeks grew hot, and she looked down at her plate.
“Um, I’m glad you stopped by,” Donovan said. “I’d been meaning to call you.”
Naomi was afraid to breathe. “Oh?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I wondered if you’d be willing to go shopping with me and the kids Sunday after church. They need some new clothes, and I’m hopeless at stuff like that.”
Her warm glow faded. Was he interested only in free help? She risked a glance at him and found him still staring at her. Her gaze probed his, and what she found there eased her worries. There was something between them. It might not lead anywhere, but she had to find out what their relationship could be.
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
Donovan’s gaze held Naomi’s for a long moment. Emily threw her fork to the table and pushed her chair across the tile with a screech, breaking their exchange. Naomi winced. The little girl flung her napkin to the floor and ran from the room. The back door slammed.
Donovan rose. “I don’t want her outside alone. Bears were raiding the restaurant’s garbage last week, and though they should be in their winter dens by now, I don’t want to take any chances.”
Naomi touched his forearm. “Let me go,” she said.
He hesitated but then nodded and sank back onto his seat. “Don’t take her attitude personally. She’s been difficult since Marika left.”
“I remember how I felt when my dad died. She’s just lost and afraid of the future.” Naomi stood. “Have you tried to contact Marika—see if she could come visit them? That would help.”
“She didn’t leave a forwarding address. All correspondence was through her lawyer, and once the divorce was final, even that stopped. I don’t even know where she is.”
Naomi gave him a sympathetic smile then went to find Emily. Glancing out the window of the back door, Naomi saw her sitting in a swing, her elbows on her knees and her chin cupped in her hands.
The remembered pain of loss brought tears to Naomi’s eyes. She had been about Emily’s age when her father had died, and some days she still missed him with a fresh intensity that resurrected the horrible day in vivid Technicolor. She hurried to join Emily.
November had arrived this week. Snow was late this year, but it couldn’t be far off. A cutting wind blew from the woods, and Naomi wrapped her sweater more tightly around her chest. Emily wasn’t wearing a jacket either.
“Hi,” Naomi said softly.
Emily swiveled in the swing and stared at her with eyes so miserable Naomi wanted to cry with her.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” she said. “I always get in trouble. I bet Daddy wishes you and Bree never found me in the woods.”
“Oh, sweetheart, your daddy loves you so much. He would never wish that.” Naomi stepped closer. “Here, put my sweater on, and I’ll push you.”
Naomi shrugged her arms out of the sweater and helped Emily into it. The cold wind punched through her thin turtleneck and chilled her whole body. Emily settled back onto the swing, and Naomi grabbed the cold steel of the chain and gave a gentle push.
“My daddy died when I was about your age,” Naomi said after a long minute.
“He did?” Emily said. “Was he killed in a climbing accident like Mrs. Asters or did he get cancer like Anika’s mommy?”
Naomi hid a smile. Children related everything to their own experiences. But then,
she guessed everyone did the same. “No, he was the captain of a ship that sank in Lake Superior.”
“That’s sad,” Emily said. “I would go to Bree’s lighthouse and watch for him to come back.”
“He’s in heaven though. I wouldn’t want him to leave a nice place where he’s happy.”
“I want Mommy to come back.” Emily thrust out her chin. She turned, gave an uncertain look in Naomi’s direction, and asked in a small voice, “Are you going to be my new mommy?”
“I’d like to be your friend,” Naomi said. “Can we start there?”
Emily dug the toe of her sneaker into the ground and stopped the swing. “Okay,” she said, getting out of the swing. “I’m cold. Can we go inside now?”
“Sure.” Naomi was glad to. Her bones hurt with the cold.
“Oh look!” Emily ran forward and stooped in front of the sand-box. “See, I told you Sam was here.” She held up a small glove. “This is Sam’s.”
Naomi frowned and took the glove. Something inside her stomach twisted, and she was glad Bree wasn’t here. The glove looked similar to ones Davy had once worn.
She handed it back to Emily. “We’ll have to give it back to Timmy.”
“It’s Sam’s,” Emily insisted. “Timmy doesn’t have gloves like this.”
She certainly was sticking to her story. Naomi wanted to chuckle, but she knew the child would be offended. As a child, Naomi had had an imaginary friend, Wendy, and she’d been highly offended when her mother refused to believe Wendy existed. Emily would grow out of it soon enough. At least Sam was there for Emily when her mommy wasn’t.
She ruffled the top of Emily’s hair. “If you beat me inside, I’ll make some fudge and we can play a game.”
“You don’t believe me.” Emily pouted. “Call Lauri and ask her. Maybe she saw Sam and the witch.”
Looking into the child’s confident eyes, Naomi couldn’t bear to shatter her trust. “All right, let’s do that.”
Emily’s huge smile was Naomi’s reward. She followed the little girl back inside. Donovan had stacked the dishes around the sink, and Naomi made a mental note to wash them after calling Lauri. She left Donovan in the kitchen and went to the living room. Emily showed her Lauri’s number in the back of the phone book.