But Delaney was churning over the night before. Had she said something wrong? One minute, she and Mr. Aylett had been having a lovely conversation, sharing bits of their lives, and the next, he was practically running away from her. His excuse about remembering something important had rung hollow.
“Miss Laney, look!” Charlotte pointed to a squirrel darting up a tree trunk, its cheeks bulging with acorns. “He’s funny.”
“He’s getting ready for winter. Squirrels have to store enough food to last until spring.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Maybe we should help.” She slowed, gaze on the ground. She started collecting acorns, displaying a level of generosity Delaney had rarely seen in a four-year-old. The child’s own cheeks had filled out, her complexion pinker than it’d been before. She was gaining weight, too. She was thriving.
“God will take care of the squirrels’ needs. He takes care of His whole creation.”
Charlotte touched a finger to her mouth, her little head tilted to one side as if she were contemplating what Delaney had said. After a moment, she opened her hand and let the acorns fall. “Okay.”
God would provide for the squirrels, as He’d provided for Charlotte, though from the child’s perspective, it probably hadn’t felt like it for a long time. Yet she was healing, despite all the adults who’d let her down.
They continued on the sidewalk, and Delaney replayed her conversation with Mr. Aylett again. The way his voice had sounded when he spoke about his mother. The genuine concern in his eyes when he’d asked why Delaney had left Maine. The moment when he’d seemed truly surprised by her age.
And then that strange, sudden withdrawal.
Charlotte veered off the sidewalk to catch a particularly vibrant red leaf, adding it to the small collection she’d been accumulating in her pocket. Older, dried leaves crunched pleasantly beneath their feet.
Delaney suddenly felt it again—that odd sensation of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted a dark sedan parked along the curb about a block behind them. They’d just walked by that spot, and that car hadn’t been there.
“Miss Laney, come on!” Charlotte called.
She hurried forward and took Charlotte’s hand. When they turned at the corner toward the playground, Delaney casually looked back again. The same car was rolling slowly toward them.
Her pulse quickened.
They crossed the street and entered the park. Delaney was eager to get there, where they’d be surrounded by kids and their parents and caregivers. “Race you to the swings!”
Giggling, Charlotte took off running, giving Delaney the perfect excuse to hurry.
Charlotte got there first and settled on the only empty one. “Push me!” she called, her little legs getting her moving.
“Hold your horses, love.”
Charlotte grinned like she always did when Delaney called her that.
Delaney shifted to stand in front of her, hoping to see that the sedan had moved on.
But it hadn’t.
It was now parked on the far side of the street, across from the playground, too far away for Delaney to see inside and get a glimpse of who had followed them.
Assuming she wasn’t being completely paranoid.
Swallowing a rise of nerves, she smiled at her charge. “I’m going to take your picture.” She crouched down, ostensibly to take a photo of Charlotte. Instead, she zoomed in on the sedan.
“Lemme see!” Charlotte demanded.
“One more. Smile.” This time, she took Charlotte’s photo, then showed her the image.
Charlotte seemed satisfied. “Now, push me, pleeeeease.”
Delaney moved behind Charlotte, which put her back to the parked sedan. Playing it cool. She didn’t want them to know she’d spotted them.
“Higher!” Charlotte squealed, kicking her legs out.
Delaney gave another gentle push, keeping her voice light despite her bubbling anxiety. “We don’t want you to fly all the way to the moon.”
