My Three Girls

DANA RAN a warm bath for Jean, peeling off the filthy pajamas that Dana had reluctantly allowed them to put on earlier. Calm now, Jean happily put her hand on Dana’s shoulder and stepped into the tub.

“Let’s do your hair first. I’m going to put some warm water on it, so close your eyes really tight,” Dana said, her voice soft.

Jean shut her eyes, her face scrunching up with the effort, and Dana poured warm water onto the matted mess. She definitely wasn’t wrong about the children’s lack of hygiene. Only after three washes did Dana feel the little girl’s hair was clean. She was thankful there weren’t any lice.

“Can you wash yourself, Jean?” Dana asked, offering her a bright-orange bath puff.

Jean nodded, took the puff and lathered it up. With earnest determination, she scrubbed her arms, chest and legs. When she finished, she looked up at Dana, who finished off the little girl’s face, neck and back. She was relieved when she didn’t see any marks or bruises anywhere.

“There!” Dana said when she’d finished rinsing the soap off. “The monsters wouldn’t dream of eating such a clean little girl. They hate the taste of soap.”

Jean gave her a ghost of a smile and stepped right into the towel Dana held open for her. Dana closed her eyes and felt a lump in her chest. She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to feel anything for this child. But her heart wasn’t as atrophied as she’d always thought.

Jean patted her face, her little forehead furrowed with concern.

Dana blinked back tears. “I’m fine. You’re just so cute.”

Jean shook her head and wrapped her arms around Dana’s neck. Forcing herself not to reject the kindness Jean offered, she squeezed back, then stood. “Oh, you’re so heavy!”

After she combed out Jean’s hair, she carried the girl to the bedroom, where Ollie slept and Karen had her eyes shut. Shortly, Jean was in a T-shirt, tucked in next to her sisters.

Before she left, Dana pushed back Karen’s hair and kissed her forehead. Then she whispered “Sleep well” in her ear. As she turned off the light, Karen spoke.

“Miss Ritchie?”

“Yes, Karen?”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

“I don’t know. But everything will work out in the end.”

“Promise?”

Dana swallowed. “Yes. I promise.”

Karen nodded and pulled the covers over her head as she nestled closer to Ollie.

Dana crept from their room and closed the door, but she could get no farther. She leaned up against the wall, trying to hold back the emotions that surged through her. She couldn’t do this again. Already, she liked these little girls more than she should. She didn’t want to care for them only to have them ripped away. She’d done that once before. In his two months with her, Adam had gone from an introverted six-year-old to a brave and joyful boy. Then—

No. She wouldn’t think of that anymore. She stood straight and headed for the kitchen. These three girls were Deputy Moore’s problem, not hers.

He was sitting at the table, but got up when she entered. “Miss Ritchie.”

“Dana.” She smiled, feeling the fatigue all the way down to her toes. “I think that we know each other well enough now to use first names. Unless that’s against policy or something.”

He shook his head and pulled a chair out for her, a gesture she found oddly touching. Then he sat down and reached across the table to close his fingers over hers.

“Thank you.” His voice was grave.

“For what?” His warm touch was doing something odd to her breathing. He looked different, too. Something about him had changed in the short time he’d been here.

“For what you’ve done for these children,” he answered.

She dismissed his thanks with a shrug. “For being a decent human being?”

“For being a caring human being. I couldn’t have done what you did tonight.”

“Night terrors. It’s common for children.” Suddenly, Adam’s face loomed in front of her eyes. She tried to tug her hand away from Brady’s, but he hung on.

“Thank you,” he said again, stressing the words. “I owe you.”

It was a plain statement, but oddly intimate and filled with emotion. Dana shook her head, almost recoiling from the thought of Brady Moore being in her debt. She could hardly bear to have Jean, sweet-smelling and damp from her bath, touch her. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to see Karen’s rumpled morning hair, the sleep in the corners of Jean’s eyes, the creases left by the pillowcase on Ollie’s cheek. She could protect her heart from those things. But what would protect her from this man’s gratitude?

AS DANA SQUIRMED, clearly discomfited by his appreciation, Brady’s throat constricted. She had no idea the front of her T-shirt was plastered to her. It revealed no more than the outline of her bra and soft curves, but her indifference to her appearance was appealing. He didn’t know what scared him most—the thought she’d say no or yes. He would understand her reasons for saying no. There were a hundred reasons for it, none more compelling than the fact they’d only known each other a couple of hours. Although he had to admit that the intensity of their time together made him feel as if he knew Dana better than some women he’d dated for several months. Still, she was going to think he was crazy.

“Looks as if you took a bath, too,” he commented.

She grinned and inhaled deeply. Brady could actually see her relax.