My Name is Nell

After Lily excused herself, Brady looked down at Nell, his eyes soft. “I like your family. Nice people.”

Nell tore her gaze from him and glanced around. “Yes. They are.” Then she noticed Abby sitting in a swing, holding Chase in her lap. The girl’s eyes were fixed everywhere but on Nell. “Brady, I’d like you to meet my daughter.” She started walking toward Abby, confident Brady was following. “Abby, this is—” When she turned to include him in the introduction, he wasn’t right behind her as she’d expected. He had stopped several feet away and his face had gone pale. “—Brady Logan,” Nell finished lamely.

As if shaking off a trance, he ran a hand through his hair and approached the swing set. “Hello,” he said in a husky voice.

Abby gave him a brief glance, then continued swinging. “’Lo.”

Nell stepped forward, took hold of the ropes and brought the swing to a stop. “Brady recently moved here from California,” she said in a voice full of a mind-your-manners undertone.

“I know.” Abby’s stony face had softened not one iota. “Grandma told me.”

Nell could only wonder what other tidbits Stella had seen fit to divulge. She turned helplessly to Brady. “And this is Chase, Lily’s son,” she said running a hand over the toddler’s curly hair.

“Hi, Chase.”

The boy ducked his head into Abby’s shirt. Abby continued to stare at her mother in sullen defiance.

“What grade are you in, Abby?”

Slowly Abby turned to Brady. “Eighth.”

Brady’s voice sounded strangled. “Hope you enjoy the year.”

Nell was missing something. It was as if Brady, usually confident and assured in social situations, had become a tongue-tied adolescent himself.