by JoAnn Ross
“Hello,” she said.
Chelsea guessed one child to be about eight years old, but her guarded eyes made her seem older. “Hi.”
“Hi!” the younger girl, who looked around five, said with a wide grin. “I’m Hailey and this is my big sister, Hannah. We’re reading about dragons.”
“What fun. I like dragons.”
“Me, too.” She bobbed her blond head. “They have fire coming out of their noses.” Her brow wrinkled, much as Mrs. Henderson’s had. “But they only scorch and eat bad people.”
“Then the three of us are safe.”
“We are! That’s why I don’t have nightmares about them.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Hannah gave me my own dragon.” Hailey reached into a Disney Princess book bag and pulled out a fluffy green stuffed one. “It’s invisible, but it looks just like this.”
“I like it.” It was well worn, and missing a leg.
“Me, too. My invisible guardian dragon is always with me, like a guardian angel, and burns away any monsters that try to sneak up on me in the dark.”
Chelsea glanced at the older sister, whose return look managed to be expressionless and hard at the same time.
“You’re lucky to have such a good big sister.”
“I know.” The younger girl looked up. “She’s always taken care of me. Everywhere we’ve lived.”
That explained why Chelsea didn’t recognize them. Apparently, they were new to Honeymoon Harbor.
“Would you like to take that book with you?” she asked. “So you can finish it at home?”
“Yes!”
“We don’t have a library card,” the older sister said, her tone a challenge.
“That’s not a problem,” Chelsea said blithely. “I trust you. And when you return it, I’ll have other dragon books waiting for you.”
“That would be wonderful.” Little hands with sparkly nail polish crossed over Hailey’s heart. “Wouldn’t it, Hannah?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t seem all that pleased. Or, perhaps, she was merely guarded. Which was a good thing these days. Even in this small peninsula town.
Getting the message that the library was about to close, Hannah put the book into her own bag and stood up. “Come on, Hailey. We’ve got to go.”
“Okay.” The little hand took hold of the larger one. “Thank you, library lady,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Chelsea responded. “Can I call your mother for you?”
“She’s working,” Hannah said.
“So there’s no one at home?”
“I have a key.” She pulled it out of her pocket. “We’ll be okay. Like my sister said, I can take care of her.”
“I’m sure you can. But it’s raining.”
A chin went up. “We don’t melt.”
“That’s good to know. Because it would definitely be a disadvantage to living here in the Pacific Northwest,” Chelsea said mildly. “But nevertheless, why don’t I drive you home?”
“We’re not supposed to get into cars with strangers,” Hailey said. “Because of the traffic.”
“Traffickers,” Hannah corrected.
Chelsea was relieved someone had taught the girls, who seemed to be on their own in the afternoons, child safety. “You’ve been in my library a week. Have I acted as if I’m a child trafficker?”
“No.”
“Would it help if I had the chief of police drop over to vouch for me?”
“No!” both sisters said at once.
Hannah placed a hand on Hailey’s head. “That’s okay. I guess they wouldn’t let you be a librarian if you were a criminal.”
“There’s a very extensive background check,” Chelsea assured her, making a note to check with Aiden Mannion about what he might know about these girls’ parents. “I was even fingerprinted.”
Hannah bit her lip, considering. Then glanced out at the rain that had gone from a mist to a drizzle to a driving rain blowing in over the mountains from a coastal storm. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Chelsea said, even as she felt something off. While they may not want anything to do with the police, she was definitely going to ask Aiden Mannion about the family. She wasn’t sure the law allowed him to share any information, but if it was to keep a child safe, she had to try.
Hannah was quiet on the way to the address she’d given Chelsea, while Hailey continued to chatter away, jumping from dragons to wizards to a book about a giraffe who couldn’t dance. “He had crooked knees and skinny legs, and when he tried to join the jungle dance, the other animals teased him.”
“Bullied,” Hannah murmured.
Hailey continued undeterred. “So, he felt very sad. Because he really was a very bad dancer. He felt sad and alone.”
“But then while he was walking home, the giraffe looked up at the moon and was thinking how beautiful it was, when a cricket suddenly appeared and told him how everyone is special in their own way,” Chelsea continued, picking up one of her favorite children’s stories.
“Yes! And when you’re different, you just need a special song.” Hailey bobbed her head. “So when the giraffe heard the moon playing just for him—”
“His hooves started shuffling,” Chelsea said.
“And he swung his legs around everywhere! And all the other animals saw him and thought he was the best dancer ever!”
“Like bullies are ever going to do that,” Hannah scoffed.
“But they did!”
“The cricket never got any credit for helping him,” Hannah pointed out.
Hailey bit her bottom lip as she thought about that. “Maybe the cricket is the giraffe’s older sister, who always takes care of him.”
Glancing into the rearview mirror, Chelsea watched Hannah’s eyes—which, during their short time together had only been expressionless or hard—soften. “Maybe so, sprout,” she agreed softly, as she reached over and took her sister’s hand in hers.
There was a story there. Chelsea felt it. And not just because she’d been an older sister. But because her once perfect family had crumbled apart when she was about Hannah’s age. She knew the need to make things better. Even when it was impossible. Especially for a child not even into her teens.
They’d reached the house, which was a Craftsman bungalow in a neighborhood that had once been mill company housing. Now a house that was renovated and given a modern interior floor plan could bring in several times the original cost. It wasn’t always easy growing grass near salt water, but whoever owned this home had apparently thrown in the towel. Where there would have been a lawn, or wildflower garden as many homeowners created instead, there were fir cones and needles scattered over dirt studded with weeds.
Paint that appeared to have once been blue was peeling, and a white shutter was hanging crookedly. While the bungalow could have been darling, with its front porch and low, gabled roof, it was just sad. Chelsea regretted having to drop the girls off here.
“When does your mother come home from work?” she asked, turning toward the backseat.
“Anytime now.” Hannah’s hand was tightly squeezing Hailey’s smaller one. To quiet her sister? Even more concerned, Chelsea decided to definitely stop by the police department on her way home. Maybe Aiden wouldn’t be legally allowed to give her much information, but at least he could check to see if there’d been any complaints about or emergency calls from the house.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” she said in a voice that even to her sounded fake cheery. “I’ll just wait here until you go in.”
“Great,” Hannah said, sounding as insincere as Chelsea just had.
Chelsea watched the two of them walk across the broken pavement of the front walk, across the columned porch and after Hannah had unlocked the door, go inside.
T
hen she pulled away from the curb and headed to the police station.
Copyright © 2018 by JoAnn Ross
ISBN-13: 9781488096457
Snowfall on Lighthouse Lane
Copyright © 2018 by JoAnn Ross
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