Loving Leah

“Right, Gracie, not ever with you.”

“Not with Aunt Leah, either,” she instructed, then yawned and closed her eyes.

John said nothing for several seconds, unable to lie to the little girl in any way. More than likely, he would have to use his growly voice and then some to get Leah Hayes out of his house. But he’d make sure Gracie wasn’t within hearing distance when he did. In fact, he had every intention of dealing with Ms. Hayes just as soon as Gracie was asleep.

“Hey, are you sure you’re going to be able to stay awake for even one story?” he asked, putting his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and giving her a quick hug.

“Mm, yes, I can stay awake.”

“Okay, then…”

Focusing on the words of the story, words he practically knew by heart after reading the book to Gracie so often, John set aside all other thoughts. Content just to be in the present moment—at home with the little girl he loved more than he could say—he began to read.

In one hand, Leah carried the suitcase that held items she’d need most her first night in John’s house, in the other, Gracie’s bag filled with the clothes, books and a favorite stuffed animal she’d taken to her grandparents’. Trudging back up the brick walkway, she saw a light go on above her, shining through two of the front-facing windows and adding to the glow of the porch light.

Gracie’s room, she thought. John was probably putting his daughter to bed. By the time she had dumped the suitcases and taken a few minutes to freshen up in the bathroom, her niece should be tucked away for the night, perhaps already asleep. There was no reason she couldn’t get a few things straightened out with John then, except her own dread of squaring off with him. It wasn’t a happy prospect, by any stretch of the imagination, but an immediate, top-of-the-list must-do nonetheless.

Once inside the main entryway, Leah dropped Gracie’s bag at the foot of the staircase, then, turning on lights as she went, proceeded in the direction of the room she’d be using during her stay.

The formal living and dining rooms, one opening onto either side of the entryway, obviously hadn’t been used in a long time. Nor had they been cleaned recently. Dust clung to the furniture and balled up in the corners of the polished oak floors, and a cobweb hung among the crystals on the chandelier over the dining-room table. Not that bad, though, when compared to the mess she found in the kitchen and den.

Her bewilderment quickly turning to dismay, Leah halted in the center of what could have been a very cozy kitchen. With a delicate shudder, she gazed at the stacks of unwashed dishes on the countertops and in the sink and grimaced at the empty pizza boxes and Chinese-food containers piled high in the trash bin. Books and papers were scattered over the kitchen table, much as they were over the coffee table and end tables in the den.

Needless to say, this slovenliness—and that was putting it kindly—had to have been one of the reasons her father and stepmother had asked for her help. Dealing with the disarray in other people’s lives—usually emotional, but occasionally physical, as well—then fading quietly into the background had become something of a specialty for her the past couple of years, she acknowledged. Longer than that, counting the lonely days she’d looked after her father following her mother’s death, and the times she’s sat without speaking while John poured out his heart during his parents’ bitter divorce.

Then her father had met Georgette, and knowing her help was no longer needed, Leah had willingly stepped to the sidelines. She’d done the same when she realized it was Caro that John loved enough to marry. And she would do the same once more when her father and stepmother returned at the end of summer and could again keep a watchful eye on Gracie.

But August was a long way off, and she had work to do in the meantime, Leah reminded herself as she continued on to the room off the den that she assumed would be hers during her stay there.

She’d thought she’d seen the worst possible mess in the kitchen and den, but the so-called nanny’s room, a fair-size bedsitting room with its own private bath, had even more horrors to offer. The bed had been left with sheets, blankets and pillows in disarray, as if the prior occupant had tumbled out, packed her bags and gone. Empty drawers gaped open in the chest and dresser, and in the bathroom used towels hung stiff as boards on the racks.

“What has been going on around here?” Leah demanded angrily of no one in particular, then answered with a twinge of sarcasm, “Apparently not much in the way of housekeeping.”

Dropping her suitcase on the serviceable gray carpet, she noted that it, at least, appeared to be clean.

In the bathroom, she opened cabinet doors until she found a stack of clean towels, then washed her face and hands. Feeling a little better, she retraced her steps to the staircase, grabbed Gracie’s bag and headed upstairs to the little girl’s bedroom.

On the landing, Leah saw that the first two rooms on either side of the hallway stood with doors closed. The room facing the back of the house was John’s study, she recalled from the photographs Caro had sent her, while the other was a guest room Caro had used mainly for storage. Farther along, two more rooms stood with doors open—the master bedroom and Gracie’s room, from which the faint illumination of a night-light glowed.

Postponing her confrontation with John just a little longer, Leah walked down the hallway and peeked into her niece’s bedroom. With her blond curls tumbled on the lace-edged pillow and her long eyelashes dark against her pale skin, Gracie looked like a princess peacefully sleeping under the canopy of her bed.

Leah set the bag on the floor, then tiptoed across the room. But as if sensing her aunt’s presence, Gracie stirred, opened her eyes and smiled sleepily.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Leah said, sitting on the bed beside her.

“You didn’t,” Gracie replied. “I was waiting for you to come and say good-night.”

“Well, then, good night, Gracie.” Leah smiled as she gently stroked the little girl’s curls, then bent to kiss her cheek.

“Good night, Aunt Leah.”

“Sleep tight…”

“…and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Gracie finished with a giggle. Then, her sweet smile fading, she added more seriously, “I had a little talk with my dad.”

“Oh, you did, did you?”

“He promised not to be growly anymore.”

“Well, that’s nice to know.”

“I thought so, too.” Gracie closed her eyes again and snuggled more deeply under the quilt. “See you in the morning?” she asked softly.

“Count on it,” Leah said as she tucked the covers around the little girl’s shoulders.

She might not have had a warm welcome from John, much less a clean bed in which to sleep, but she wasn’t going to desert her niece under any circumstances.

Out in the hallway again, Leah paused. She was tempted to go back downstairs and set to work making her room habitable for the night. It was a perfectly good excuse to put off talking to John until the following day. But she knew that the sooner she faced him, the better it would be for all concerned.

She didn’t want him thinking she was going to creep around his house, giving him a wide berth and staying out of his way like a frightened puppy. She’d stood up to him often enough in the past without any serious repercussions. Granted, they had been children rather than adults then, but surely their maturity would work in her favor now. After all, he’d promised Gracie he wouldn’t be growly anymore, she told herself with a slight smile. She hoped the promise had included conversations with her, as well as his daughter.

Leah rapped firmly on the door to John’s study. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she walked in without waiting for an invitation. The room was as dark as the rest of the house had been. Only a glimmer of outside light coming through the blinds at the windows delineated the placement of the furnishings—a large desk and chair, bookshelves, a small leather sofa. Surprisingly well ordered, she noted, considering the condition of the rest of the house.

John stood by one of the windows, his back to her, making no effort to acknowledge her presence. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped, he gazed out at only he knew what.

Leah had been determined to stand up to him, to speak her mind about his earlier behavior and lay some ground rules. But the sight of him looking so…forlorn stole away the words she’d been prepared to say. Instead, she moved toward him quietly, wanting only to put her arms around him, to hold him close and assure him that everything would be all right.

Yes, his beloved Caro was dead, but he had Gracie to consider. And now she was there—his once and always friend—to help him begin to heal.

“Get out of here, Leah.”

Though pitched low, John’s voice lashed like a whip across the room, halting her in midstep. Momentarily stunned by the depth of his animosity toward her, Leah gripped the edge of his desk to steady herself. She saw in an instant how his shoulders had straightened, how he now held his hands at his sides, clenched into fists.

He was ready for a fight. More than that, he wanted one. But why? she wondered. She’d never been his enemy—

“Are you deaf, Leah? I told you to get out,” he repeated, this time honoring her with a pointed glance over one shoulder.

“John, please, I’ve come here to help,” she began, trying to get him to be reasonable.

“I don’t want or need your charity,” he muttered darkly, turning away again.

“I’m not sure what you mean by charity.” Truly puzzled by his comment, she eyed him silently, waiting for some further explanation. When he offered none, she ventured softly, “You obviously need some help around here and I’m more than willing to provide it. I thought you understood. More than that, I thought you agreed—”

“Me, agree? Not likely, Leah. And as for you being willing?” He laughed softly without any humor. “You’re only here because Cameron and Georgette played on your sympathy.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded, unable to hide her dismay. “Surely you know how much I care about you and Gracie.”

Her father and stepmother had played on her sympathy, but John had to know that that alone wouldn’t have brought her home again. Why, then, was he treating her like an adversary?