CHAPTER EIGHT
Maple leaves crunched beneath the bag Delaney dragged toward the growing pile, Charlotte’s delighted shriek echoing across the backyard as she flew headfirst into the freshly raked mound.
The little girl who’d suffered bouts of melancholy that first week Delaney had lived here—occasionally retreating into herself—had slowly opened up. She still rarely put more than two sentences together at a time, but she smiled more. She laughed a lot.
Delaney loved seeing her personality emerge.
Now Charlotte popped up, leaves clinging to her curls like nature’s confetti. “Again!” She jogged to the far side of the yard.
Delaney raked to pile the leaves, and Charlotte got a running start and dove headfirst, sending all Delaney’s work flying.
Delaney brushed dirt from her jeans, surveying the yard. There were oversized trash bags bulging with leaves at every corner. She needed to fill one more, and they’d be finished.
She hoped to surprise Mr. Aylett by completing this task, giving him one less thing he needed to do. He’d mentioned more than once his plan to get back here, but he’d been so busy. Though he was home for breakfast and dinner every night, she’dseen him in his office many times before breakfast and after he kissed Charlotte good night—after being gone all day long. He’d apologized once during that first week for heaping so much responsibility onto Delaney so quickly.
“It’s just this merger,” he’d said. “As soon as it’s completed, I’ll be around more.”
Delaney hoped that was true, but she wouldn’t count on it. Her own father had always had excellent excuses for not being with the family. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe Dad had truly believed that as soon asthisassignment was over, orthatbusiness deal, he’d spend more time at home. Whether he’d believed it or not, it was never true. Dad always seemed to have somewhere more important to be than in Maine with his wife and kids.
In Mr. Aylett’s case, he was doing his best to make room for a child in his life who wasn’t his. She couldn’t imagine her father making half the effort her employer did for someone else’s little girl.
Charlotte sat in the middle of the pile and threw leaves over her head.
Delaney grinned at her. She’d been clingy when Delaney had first come to work for the family, and overly compliant, as if she’d feared that, at any sign of disobedience, Delaney might abandon her. Three weeks later, she talked more, laughed more, and trusted more. She was also less quick to obey.
It was good, though. The new therapist warned her that Charlotte would start testing boundaries.“She wants to know if you’ll stick around, no matter what.”
Delaney didn’t plan to leave anytime soon, but what would it do to Charlotte when she went home to Maine?
She wasn’t about to risk her little heart, not after everything she’d been through.
Charlotte rolled in the leaves, undoing all of Delaney’s hard work.
“Sweetheart,” she said, “the goal is to gather the leaves, not scatter them.”
Charlotte had other ideas about leaf management. Giggling, she stood, lifted an armful, and threw them in the air, shouting, “Scatter, scatter!”
Delaney laughed. “One more jump in, then we need to get these bagged up before your uncle gets home.” She raked them close and formed a pile.
Charlotte backed up, then plopped into it.
“Silly girl!” Delaney reached in after her, ostensibly to pull her out. Instead, she found the child’s sweet spot—under her arms—and tickled.
Charlotte’s giggles were contagious. And who cared about the yard, anyway?
Delaney fell in with her, eliciting a fresh bout of laughter.
Charlotte popped up, then jumped on top of her, knocking her over and earning even more tickles.
Finally, Delaney caught her breath.
“We should really clean this up before?—”
A tree’s worth of leaves fell on her head, covering her and Charlotte completely.
What in the world?
She pushed her way out and looked up.
