The Forgotten Child

Chapter 7, The Forgotten Child

Chapter Seven

Three days after that hellish first day, Emily moved into Brad's house.

She closed the glass closet door in her new bedroom-the one beside the main bathroom, which was beside Brad's master bedroom at the top of the stairs. Katy had fallen asleep across her Irish green duvet, on her small double bed, clutching her Dora doll and her faded blue baby blanket.

Just this morning, Emily discovered this house was built by Brad's grandfather in the 40's. This three thousand square foot, two story home boasted five large bedrooms. Emily's room was freshly painted an off-white, with light beige carpeting and a large picture window overlooking the horse paddock and pasture with a lovely view of the distant mountains. Trevor's room was across the hall. Katy's was right beside Trevor's, which left one large bedroom at the end of the hall filled with boxes and furnishings.

When Emily issued notice to her landlord that she was moving, even with the short notice, they'd wished her well. Gina had been true to her word. Gina, Fred, their two teenage boys and what was possibly half the neighborhood packed and moved Emily to the ranch in three days. Katy appeared happy and unruffled, even after the tense first day.

Emily wandered across the hall into Katy's room. She ran her hand over the floral duvet covering Katy's white princess bed. The winnie the pooh lamp sat on the nicked night table. She'd meant to refinish it many times, but life continued to get in the way.

Emily peeked in on Katy, who was the vision of a sleeping angel. It had been an exhausting morning, and with all the changes this week and now moving to a new house, it was no surprise after she'd rubbed her eyes, Katy'd crawled up on Emily's bed and fallen asleep. Emily used her fingers to brush back her hair that had slid in front of her eyes. No matter how many times she'd tied her straight hair back today, it continued to free itself. Now, using her fingers, Emily smoothed her hair back and tied it, once again, into a loose ponytail. She released a heavy sigh as she slumped against the door frame, and an overwhelming sensation invaded her, as if she'd just come up for air. All because of this whirlwind change, which resulted in her herculean approach to disassemble and pack up an entire house, start a new job and relocate; all within a few days. Most of Emily's belongings, including the furniture Bob didn't take, were stored in one of the heated outbuildings behind the barn.

The top stair creaked; she swung around so fast she whacked her elbow on the doorjamb. "Oh."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, I'm fine." Her face must have been crimson, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. Why was this bothering her? And why wouldn't he look away with those intense, dark eyes? Seconds passed before Brad cleared his throat.

"Getting settled in okay?" He shoved his hands in his front pockets, a man who guarded his emotions with a control that was hard and mechanical. But the flicker of concern shading his eyes was genuine. Emily liked to think she could pick up any sense of falseness from a person, but she couldn't read this guy. He was too complex.

"I think so." Emily cleared her throat.

His face brightened when he looked over her head. She turned to see what he found so intriguing. "It's been a hectic day for us all I think; hopefully, she'll sleep a while." His smile faded. He was standing really close. Her heart thudded. Could he hear it?

Emily needed to move, but he blocked the way. Swallowing the lump, she tucked the wisps of hair that had, once again, escaped the ponytail behind her ears. She dropped her eyes to the floor, a motion that helped her steady her nerves. Change the subject. "I should start dinner, it's getting late."

He brushed his hand on her shoulder. Heat flickered. He pulled back as if he'd been burned. Then his jaw hardened as he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets again. "Mrs. Haske started something in the crock pot, when she was here this morning to get Trevor, so no need. You finish getting settled."

Her tongue felt thick and she didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded.

"I need to go get Trevor." He hesitated as if needing to say more, but didn't. He hurried down the stairs.

"Brad, I almost forgot... Sorry, do you have a minute?" She cringed at her inability to put together two intelligent words. Did I stammer?

He stopped halfway down and turned back. "Yes, Emily." How did he do that? Even the sound of her name sounded like music to her ears. When she didn't respond, he raised his eyebrow to hurry her along. Okay, speak girl. "Um, I kind of assumed some things; sorry, what I'm trying to say, is that I just need to clarify some things."

He braced his hand against the wall. He appeared to tense as he stood straighter. She was really mucking this up.

"You're here to look after my boy and cook." Whoa, she'd need a pair of tweezers to remove the stinger from his sharp, clipped tone.

"Oh, I know that. But I wanted to talk about getting groceries and the laundry. I'll do Trevor's. Do you want me to do your laundry, too? I mean, we really didn't talk about all those details. I just want to know for sure..." Emily let her words drop off at the odd expression on his face. He dropped his hand and glanced away. He chuckled as he walked back up the steps. Emily didn't know what to do so she backed up until she bumped the wall.

"Lady, you surprise me, and very few people do. No, I can do my own laundry, but thank you. You look after the kids and the cooking and I'll give you money to get groceries. If you don't mind doing Trevor's laundry, I'd really appreciate it. Fair enough?"

"That's more than fair, Brad. Thank you."

"Mrs. Haske will come a couple times a week to do the cleaning. If you need help with something, you just need to ask. Sorry I snapped. Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled at the encouragement.

"I've got to go." He talked as he hurried down the stairs.

Even though the house was warm, Emily crossed her arms and trembled as she stood alone in the silence, listening to his familiar walk; the click of the door and the sound of his truck.