My Three Girls (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 7

  “Something moved,” he replied angrily, the muscle in his jaw jumping. He looked like he wanted to hurl the bag as far away as he could.

  Dana took the bag from him and looked inside. All she saw was dirty underwear and grubby stuffed animals.

  “I don’t see anything,” she said, gingerly sifting through the bag. “So it’s not likely a rodent or anything. Maybe you saw a daddy longlegs. I’ll just put the bag in the trunk.”

  “No.” He pried Dana’s fingers from the bag and proceeded to dump the contents onto the driveway. He ignored the horrified gasps from the little girls as he started to sort through the pile, looking for God only knew what.

  Dana shifted Jean to her hip and said gently, “Don’t do that. There’s nothing there. Anything big would have run away.”

  He disregarded her comment and continued to flick aside little shirts and pants. “We’d better do this or you’ll be facing an infestation of your own.”

  “Stop it!”

  The bark in Dana’s voice finally got through to him. She couldn’t believe he was so clueless that in front of the girls he would go through their things so callously. Such an inspection might be routine for him, but how could he not sense what it meant to his nieces?

  Brady looked up, and she could still see the anger simmering in his eyes. She understood his anger and felt something similar herself, but this was not the way to vent it. With Jean still clinging to her like a koala bear, Dana bent down and put a firm hand on his arm to keep him from going through the clothes anymore.

  Brady tried to jerk his arm away, but Dana hung on. For good measure she squeezed hard enough for him to wince.

  She released her grip and trailed her hand up to his shoulder. She could feel the muscles bunched up as if he was ready to strike something, someone.

  “Don’t take it out on them.” She gave him a pointed look, gesturing at his hands, which wrung a dingy pink shirt so hard his knuckles showed white.

  DANA’S GRIP finally registered with Brady.

  “What?” he asked, shaking the fog from his head. He looked down at his hands, surprised to find that he held a little shirt. He relaxed his grip, then tried to smooth out the wrinkles he’d made. He might not have liked Bev, but he’d never wished her ill. Finding her dead had been the last thing he’d expected. With no other sign of foul play, Brady had come to one painful conclusion. He’d called it in and then looked around, careful not to touch anything. Until the medical examiner declared the death a suicide, it was a crime scene. So now he was taking out his anger on a bag of clothes—all because he didn’t have anything else to do.

  “The girls are watching.” Dana kept her tone low, but her meaning pierced his gut. “Don’t embarrass them.”

  He turned his head. Sure enough, Karen, Jean and Ollie had their eyes glued to him. Tears ran down the faces of the younger girls, but Karen stepped forward, her chin thrust out.

  “I told you the house wasn’t clean,” Karen accused Dana, her earlier suspicion toward him in her eyes. Brady felt his heart twist. He needed to be more careful with these fragile girls.

  “Everything’s fine,” Dana replied. “Uncle Brady’s just worried about whether it’s safe for you to wear these clothes.”

  “He called us an in-infestation.” Karen’s bottom lip began to tremble, her suspicion turned into hurt.

  Brady went right to Karen. She looked so small, so vulnerable. “I wasn’t talking about you,” he reassured her, putting a hand on her arm.

  Karen clamped her lips tight, but she didn’t shake off his hand. “I heard you call us an infestation.”

  He felt Dana’s hand on his shoulder, a slight pressure signaling him to kneel down. She was right, he realized. He was towering over Karen. He crouched until he was eye to eye with the girl. “I wasn’t talking about you. You aren’t an infestation. You’re little girls.”

  “You’re showing our underwear!” Bright spots of red showed on her thin cheeks.

  “Not anymore,” Dana said, shoving the clothes back into the bag and then depositing it in the trunk. With a decisive push on the lid, she faced him and said, “We’ll get them all nice and clean when we get home.”

  Before he could thank her for saving him yet again, Karen spoke. “Is Momma dead?”

  After an awkward pause, Brady nodded. “I’m sorry, girls.”

  Ollie crawled out of the car, and Jean began to sob. Dana put Jean down so she could pull both girls close. Karen’s face twisted with sadness, but she clearly wasn’t going to give in to her grief yet.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Brady said honestly. “But I’m going to do my best to take care of you.”

  Karen nodded, but didn’t look as if she believed him. Back straight, she turned away and got into the car. Heart breaking, Dana watched her go. After a moment she stood and announced, her voice firm, “We’re going to go home. That’s okay, right?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she ushered Ollie and Jean into the back seat of the car. Happy to finally be useful, Brady strode to the passenger side of the car and closed those doors. He came back to the driver’s side as Dana slid into the seat.

  “Thanks,” she said, searching through her purse looking for her car keys. “Is it okay for us to go? I don’t think the children need to be here.”

  Brady nodded. “The police might want to talk to the girls, but that can be done at your place later.”

  Dana shook her purse, muttering under her breath.

  “Are you okay?” Brady asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, but her hand shook so much that when she pulled out her keys she dropped them.

  “I’ll get them,” he offered as she fumbled between her legs.

  “No, no,” she insisted, her hand hitting his.

  He gave her a brief squeeze before picking up the keys. “Here. I have them.”

  “Thanks.” This time Dana got the keys in the ignition on the first try. She started the engine, then stomped on the gas, making the engine roar.

  “Are you going to be able to drive?”

  She took a deep breath and seemed to gain control. Giving him a weak smile, she said, “It’s not far. Frankly, I’ve got to get away.”

  “If you want, I can run you all home and then come back here to finish up.”

  For a moment, Brady thought she was going to take him up on the offer, but then she put the car in reverse. “No, you’ve got work to do. When you’re done, you’ll come home, right?”

  Home.

  What a precious word. After his father died, his mother had done everything in her power to provide her children a loving home. She’d always gone over the top for the holidays and worked irregular shifts so that she could attend their ball games and after-school activities.

  It was at home that Edie Moore had taught her sons self-sufficiency. Brady and Carson had learned to cook as soon as they were tall enough to flip pancakes. They’d done their own laundry and pitched in to keep the small house clean. His devotion to his mother had been strong. Even after he’d moved out, he still thought of his mother’s house as home.

  For the first time since his mother had died, Brady saw himself living in a home, Dana’s home. It was an opportunity he didn’t deserve, especially not with such a gentle woman who’d enveloped the children with her love, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be next.

  He knew he’d taken too long to answer her. He could feel her eyes searching his face. God, she was pretty. Surprising himself, he leaned into the car and kissed her on the forehead. When his lips made contact with her smooth skin, he pulled back, uncertain about his own motives.

  “Yes,” he said, firmly shutting her door. “I will.”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets and watched Dana back out the driveway. Home. He’d see her again at home.

  ONCE BACK at the little cottage, Dana gave the girls a small snack of cheese and crackers with apple juice, which Ollie and Jean munc
hed on eagerly. Karen wasn’t interested in the food. She just drank some juice and played with a cube of cheddar. To distract her, while Jean and Ollie ate, Dana asked Karen to help organize the guest room. Together they moved all the excess school supplies into the hall. Dana would find space for it all at the school. Then they cleared papers off the desk so the girls would have someplace to do homework. Finally they emptied out all the dresser drawers, dumping the contents into garbage bags. Dana was just moving the garbage bags to the garage when the doorbell rang.

  Two officers waited on her front step. As she opened the door, she wished Brady was there. His strength would make what was coming much more bearable. Steeling herself for the ordeal, Dana showed the officers into the living room and then went to get the children. Once the interview started, Dana began to relax slightly. The officers were professional, posing gentle questions about their life with Bev Moore. They asked Karen the most questions and she answered every one calmly. The interview was just coming to a close when Brady arrived. He spoke to his colleagues for a moment, then showed them to the door.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Dana said after the officers left.

  “I’m not here for long. I’ve got to go back, but I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You look as if you’ve survived.”

  “Uncle Brady, I want to see Momma,” Karen said before she could speak.

  Dana hedged. “I’m not sure—”

  “We need to see her. We need to say goodbye.”

  “It’s okay, Dana.” Brady was standing right behind her, his hand on her shoulder, kneading gently. His touch felt good—felt right—and she wondered why. “If the girls want to see their mother, they should. But not right now.”

  “When?” Karen asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably in a couple of days. We’re trying to figure out what happened to her, so you can’t see her until we do.”

  Karen nodded in obvious understanding. In a manner much too mature for an eleven-year-old, she took her sisters’ hands and said, “We’d like to be alone now.”

  Dana and Brady watched the girls walk down the hall to the guest room.

  Once the door closed she turned to Brady. “Are you sure their seeing Bev is a good idea?” She’d had the opportunity to see Adam, but she’d declined. She couldn’t have handled seeing her sweet, laughing boy that way.

  Brady searched her face before replying in a low voice, “If the girls want to go, we shouldn’t stop them. Everyone should have a chance to say goodbye.”

  Dana swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest to hold back the feelings that were beginning to overwhelm her. She fought to retain control. For years she’d kept her memories of Adam at bay, but as she’d feared, caring for these children had torn down all her defenses.

  “Dana. Are you okay?” Suddenly Brady was next to her, guiding her over to the couch, easing her down.

  “No,” she gasped. “I’m not okay.”

  She put her head on her knees. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this for you,” she choked out.

  “Do what, Dana?”

  She felt his hand on the top of her head, but she couldn’t speak. If she opened her mouth, she’d lose the fight and then everything would come bubbling up.

  “What is it, Dana? What is it you can’t do?”

  “I’m not going to care.” The words flew out of her, and all her fears came to life. “I cared for Adam, and what did it get me? Grief. Pain. I won’t do it. I can’t.”

  She could hear a phone ringing. Was it hers? She should answer it. Why wasn’t Brady answering it? But Dana only heard a phantom from long ago. She’d been in the bath, reading a book.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Ritchie? Dana Ritchie?”

  “Mrs. Johnson? What’s wrong? Is Adam okay?”

  “He will be now.”

  The gleeful tone in the woman’s voice scared Dana. “What are you talking about? Let me talk with Adam.”

  “No. He’s not yours. You can’t have him.”

  “I know he’s not mine. He’s his own person.”

  “All he does is talk about you. He talks about you as if you’re his mother. You’re not his mother. I am!”

  Dana had tried to stay calm. “Please, Mrs. Johnson, let me talk to Adam.”

  “You can’t talk to him. He’s a bad boy. A bad, bad boy.”

  “No. He isn’t bad. Adam’s a good boy.”

  “He won’t stop crying. He just cries and cries and cries. And you know what happens to bad boys who don’t stop crying.”

  And then with the bathwater cooling around her, Dana had heard the sounds of a disturbed woman ending her child’s life.

  BRADY DIDN’T KNOW what was happening, but he realized that Dana was suffering. He held her close, his heart beating rapidly. He didn’t know what else to do. Then he remembered how she’d comforted Jean.

  He pressed her head to his chest and murmured, “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

  Dana hung on to him as if her life was at stake. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head just repeating that mantra, “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

  Some time later, her crying subsided. “I’m sorry,” Brady said, voice soft, knowing his words were inadequate.

  Dana shook her head and pulled herself out of his embrace, looking very fragile and frightened.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice tentative. “This isn’t about you. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Brady asked.

  Dana shook her head. “No. It’s something that’s better left in the past.”

  “It doesn’t appear to realize that,” he observed.

  She shrugged. “It’ll be fine. If it wasn’t for—for—all of this…”

  “It’s not something that happens every day,” he said with a nod. “Your reaction is perfectly normal.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Hardly normal. Nothing’s been normal since I met you.”

  Brady cleared his throat. “It’s not always going to be like this. In fact, it should be easier from now on.”

  “Easier?” She didn’t look as if she believed him.

  ‘But given the circumstances, I would understand if you don’t want to get married.”

  She didn’t speak, didn’t move. The moment stretched as she just stared at him, giving no clue as to what she was thinking. “Say something,” he prompted.

  “Like what?” Her voice was tense.

  “Like…I don’t know. Just don’t be silent.”

  She sucked in a noisy breath. “Doesn’t guardianship revert to you as their next of kin? Then you won’t need me. After all, you only wanted to get married so Bev couldn’t take the children when she got back. Obviously, that’s not an issue.”

  Brady tried to quell the feelings of disappointment that began to creep through him. She was looking for a way out, and he didn’t blame her one bit. Three abandoned children, a dead mother, a house that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. If he was her, he’d run as fast as he could.

  He just hoped she was made of sterner stuff than he was. “I wish it was that easy. I would eventually get them, but I still don’t have room for them. And I’m a bachelor. The state is going to be cautious about leaving three girls with me.”

  “You’re a deputy sheriff!” Dana said indignantly. “You’re the last person that would hurt those girls.”

  He continued as if she’d never spoken, “There’d be no problem if I had a wife, a real home. But I don’t.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  The pause lasted a long time.

  “You have the home,” he ventured.

  “I do.”

  Brady’s heart pounded in his ears. “There’s no good reason in the world why you should do this—”

  “What about your brother?” Her question took him by surprise.

  “What about him?”

  “You’ll have to tell him what’s
happened.”

  “I’ll get a message to him.”

  “You’re going to let a stranger tell him his wife is dead? And that before she died she neglected his children?” Dana was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. “No. Before we do anything, you need to explain all this to him. He has every right to know.”

  “If you still agree, we’ll get married tomorrow and then I’ll see him on Monday.” Brady wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

  “Do we need to get married tomorrow?”

  He shook his head. “But the sooner the better.”

  “Then why couldn’t we wait until Friday?”

  “Friday.” Brady swallowed. Why was it that conversations with Dana never seemed to go in the direction that he wanted?

  “Aren’t Sundays traditional visiting days for prisons?”

  “I can get in anytime,” he admitted.

  “Then I suggest that tomorrow you visit your brother, discuss the situation, and then—”

  He wanted to talk about something else. “If we don’t get married until Friday, I wouldn’t expect you to keep the girls alone for the next week.”

  “And you would do what? Hire a nanny?” Her lips twisted into a small smile.

  What would he do? The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I could stay with you. The girls are going through a very rough time. It would be better if they were with us, rather than a foster family. I have plenty of vacation time. I’ll take some until we get organized. Then, when I go back to work, we can figure out some sort of schedule.”

  Her face didn’t register the surprise he’d anticipated it would. In fact, she seemed to be running the scenario through her mind.

  “Where would you sleep?” Her voice was soft, and Brady suddenly realized how close they were sitting to each other.

  “The couch, of course.” He nonchalantly patted the couch.

  She frowned. “And after we’re married?”

  Brady chuckled. He couldn’t help it. The thought of sharing her bed was something he hadn’t considered until this very moment.

  “Well, that’s not very flattering,” she said, but her lips twitched and then lifted into a glorious smile.