To think she’d nearly taken Finnley and headed back to Portland rather than impose. Look what she’d have missed.
She set the Superman pack on his bed, pulled out his meager supply of clothes, and opened the top drawer of his freshly painted white dresser. The drawer had two pairs of pajamas and several pairs of socks and underwear already in it.
What?
Allison opened the next drawer. A couple of pairs of pants and a short stack of neatly folded T-shirts lay inside. She held her breath as she opened the bottom one. Empty. But, hey, that was okay. Whoever had tucked these clothes into Finnley’s dresser had bought her a little more time. She set the clothing from his Superman pack in with the others, spread one pair of pajamas on the bed, and tucked the pack itself into the bottom drawer.
A tap sounded at the door, and Finnley’s head jerked up as he edged down the wall further from the sound.
Allison smiled at him as she walked past. “It’s okay, buddy. Just one of my friends.” She opened the door to Sierra, who stood with a tin of chocolate chip cookies, so warm the sugary smell engulfed the air.
“Welcome back, Allison! I brought you and Finnley a treat.” Sierra glanced around then looked back at Allison with a puzzled frown. “Where is he?”
Allison accepted the plate. “He’s very shy.” She kept her voice low. “I think tomorrow will be soon enough to meet him.”
Sierra hesitated, hand on the doorknob. “Okay, then. I hope you had a good trip?”
All she wanted to do was get Finnley tucked in and collapse in bed herself. She hadn’t even had a moment to see what they’d done to her bedroom. Hopefully no murals. She mustered a grin for Sierra. “One time zone, a stopover, and way too many hours of travel. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Sierra peered toward Finnley’s room, where balloons floated in the doorway. “Does he like his room?” she whispered.
“I think so.” Allison let out a deep breath. “It’s hard to tell, though. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Sierra gave her a swift hug before she could resist. “Glad you’re home.” Then she whisked out the door.
“Hey, Rover, can you smell these yummy cookies?”
Chapter 12
Brent drove into the Green Acres driveway midmorning Saturday. He’d been all the way to Wynnton last night before turning around and driving back to Galena Landing and his hotel room. Thankfully Patrick paid for it by the week. There’d been no reason to go back to Coeur d’Alene. His uncle would’ve been glad enough to see him, but the Timber Framing Plus offices were closed on the weekend. They could talk on the phone anytime.
All Brent could think of was whether the little boy liked his bedroom. Whether Allison liked it. Would he even be able to tell if she did? She held so much in.
He’d snap his measuring tape around the job site for a bit, take some meaningless notes, and hope someone came over to talk to him. Noel, maybe.
Or Allison.
But why? Was he so enamored of this communal living set-up that he couldn’t stay away? Had he noticed her because she was the only single one? Sierra was engaged, after all, though Brent had never met her fiancé. But Sierra didn’t catch his eye anyway.
Just Allison.
Which was ridiculous. She certainly had no use for him or any other guy. Maybe he just liked a challenge? Also ridiculous.
He slammed the hard hat on his head and strode over to the school building, its timber frame structure all that stood yet. As soon as they finished roofing Allison’s house, they’d start sheathing this one. Patrick would send a couple of extra guys for a few days.
Brent whistled under his breath as he pretended to do something useful.
A soft clop-clop and a jangle caught his attention. Noel led two Percheron horses in harness around the side of the straw bale house. He waved when he saw Brent.
What on earth?
Claire skittered down the house steps and joined Noel. Together they headed toward the garden. Some contraption — a plow, maybe? — dragged behind the horses. The animals stopped in the garden and Claire pulled a lever, lowering the device. Noel clucked to the pair and guided them to the end of the garden patch. Soil turned up behind them, a rich hummus-filled odor reaching Brent’s nostrils.
Life on this farm wasn’t normal. Surely they had a tractor. How many acres had Zach told him they farmed? Eighty? A hundred? Too many for horses, though Brent supposed the pioneers had done just fine.
He set his clipboard and tape measure in the truck and strode over to stand beside Claire. His wish had come true. Someone had come outside before he went crazy from solitude.
“Hey, Brent. I didn’t expect to find you on the job over the weekend.”
He could keep this vague. “I had a few things I wanted to check out.”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you how amazing Finnley’s bedroom looks, thanks to you.”
Brent grinned, refusing his eyes the chance to see if Allison or the little guy were in sight. “Do they like it?”
Claire shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything yet. Sierra stopped by last night to bring them cookies when they arrived, but Finnley didn’t come out to meet her.” She glanced toward the duplex. “When Allison emailed from Tucson, she said Finnley was emotionally withdrawn, so we decided not to overwhelm him with everyone crowding around him last night. Hopefully we’ll get to meet him soon.”
“Poor little kid.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine what all he’s gone through.”
Footsteps sounded on the gravel behind them. Brent turned, keeping his face neutral.
“Allison!” said Claire. “How was your trip? How’s Finnley handling things?”
“Okay, I guess.” Allison glanced from him to Claire and back.
He held her gaze for a moment.
She wrapped her arms around her middle. “This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, just so you all know. I hardly know where to start with him.”
“Is he okay by himself in the house?” asked Claire.
Allison let out a short laugh. “The door is open. He can come out if he wants. As for being alone, I’d hazard a guess he’s spent much of his life that way. And I’m guessing when he wasn’t alone, he wished he were.”
Her words crushed Brent. How could anyone treat a child like that?
“I don’t know who all to thank for Finnley’s room. It’s amazing.” Allison’s voice caught. “The quilt, the toys, even the clothes. I barely had a chance to pick up anything for him. Whatever he had is gone, it probably wasn’t much to start with.”
How had Brent ever thought Allison cold? He wanted nothing more than to touch her right now, hold her, maybe, and let her know she wasn’t alone. Which was silly, since he would be gone in a few short months. And because he wasn’t ever getting involved again.
He’d done enough damage in the past. He didn’t need to saddle a good woman with it.
“You can thank Brent for that.” Claire’s voice interrupted his reverie.
He blinked. “What did I do now?” He tried to keep the tone light, but his dark college years still grabbed at his ankles.
Allison turned to him. “You painted it?”
“Uh…”
“Allison asked about the mural,” prompted Claire. “Your mind must’ve been a million miles away.”
A flush burned up his neck. “Uh, yeah. Just wanted to do my part to welcome him home.”
Allison met his gaze. “It’s amazing.”
The warmth spread throughout his body. “You like it? I mean, does Finnley like it?”
She gave a short laugh. “Who knows what Finnley likes? Not me. But he didn’t run screaming from it, anyway.” She glanced at Claire. “Unlike when Domino came running up to the car when we got home last night. Finnley totally freaked.”
And he’d painted a dog into the mural. Never even thought a kid might be terrified of dogs. Weren’t they supposed to be a boy’s best friend?
“Funny thing is…” Allison
rocked back and forth. “He has an imaginary friend. A dog named Rover. With Finnley it’s like ‘talk to the hand.’ He usually won’t respond to a direct request, but if I explain things to Rover, Finnley may go along with it.” She shook her head. “Or not.”
“An imaginary dog?” Claire’s face drew into a quizzical frown. “That’s a strange choice.”
“And yet he’s afraid of a real one?” asked Brent.
“Terrified.” Allison shuddered. “You should have heard him. It’s just about the only sound I’ve heard out of him all week. You know how excited Domino can get, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“If you want me to paint over the dog, I can.” Where had those words come from? He didn’t have time to fiddle with it. Not really. Though he’d enjoyed being part of team evenings last week as they readied Allison’s new home.
She shook her head. “It’s really a sweet puppy. Finnley just stared at it thoughtfully for the longest time, so I think it’s okay.” She looked at Brent with sober eyes. “Thank you.”
“Can I get a hand over here with the disc?” called Noel.
“Oops!” Claire scooted over to the horses to see what her husband wanted.
Brent turned to watch. “I can’t believe they plow with horses.”
“It’s not a plow. It’s a disc.”
Uh… what was the difference exactly? “Whichever. The horses look neat. If I’d known, I’d’ve put them in the mural.”
“Brent.” She rested her hand on his arm.
He stared down at her manicured fingers as warmth spread. Then he lifted his gaze to hers.
Allison swept her hair behind her ears with her other hand. “I can’t say thank you enough. This… this means an amazing amount. No one’s ever done anything like it for me.”
His hand covered hers. “Then I’m happy I could. You’re doing something pretty amazing, too, taking in your nephew. And I think it’s cool how your friends pitched in to get things ready. I wanted to be a part of something big like that.”
She searched his face for a moment then extracted her hand. His arm chilled where her touch had been.
“Want to meet Finnley?”
* * *
Why had she invited Brent in, of all people? Why not Claire, who looked less intimidating than the contractor and would at least live on the same farm? But no, it was Brent matching his stride to hers as they crossed the gravel driveway. Brent who glanced over at her quizzically as they approached her open front door.
This whole talking to Rover thing was going to sound really dumb to a grown man.
“Hi Rover! I’ve brought somebody here to meet Finnley. Somebody who painted that special farm picture on his wall. Would you ask Finnley if he’d like to meet Brent?”
The door to Finnley’s room stood open, and she peered inside. No little boy.
Her heart seized. Had Claire been right? Maybe Finnley had wandered out of the house while she’d been across the way. He was so quiet he could be anywhere by now. Had he purposefully run away?
Maybe in the bathroom. “Finnley?” she called. But that door was open, too, with no child in sight. A quick glance around her bedroom did not reveal him, either. Where could he be?
Allison’s vision dimmed. Her hands grew clammy as she twisted them together. Voices screamed in her head. What had she been thinking, taking in a child with such severe needs as her nephew? She should have listened to Jason Wong, who thought Finnley needed a home with a psychologist, not an aunt who instructed farming.
Farming, of all things.
But where was the boy? Was he out on the hillside behind the house, wandering with only an imaginary dog to keep him safe?
Safe. There was no safe. A sob wrenched out her throat.
Strong arms came around her, held her close. A hand rubbed up and down her back. “It’s okay. We’ll find him.”
Brent?
She pushed away, but he didn’t let go. Not completely.
His hands cupped her shoulders, warming them. Concern filled his eyes, so dark they were nearly black. “You okay, Allison? We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far in only those few minutes.”
She had to get a grip on herself. It was nice to pretend for a moment that someone cared, but it wasn’t realistic. She was on her own. She always had been. She’d been strong before. She would be now.
Allison backed up a step, and Brent’s hands dropped to his sides. His facial expression shifted. What had she seen there for a moment? Something like caring? For her, personally, not just because he was a nice guy?
That was ludicrous. He was foreman on her job, hired to build her a school and a home. Nothing more.
But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone in her life who focused on her and on her happiness? Like Noel was there for Claire. The more she’d watched the two of them together, the less she could imagine Noel cheating on his wife. Allison’s dad had certainly never treated her mother that way. But Mom had never treated Dad with any kind of respect, either. Neither of them had ever once tried to make the other one happy. If they had, the impulse had been gone the next second before any evidence remained.
Allison took a long breath and let it out very slowly. Good, she was regaining some control. Other than continuing to stare into the depths of Brent’s eyes. “Where could Finnley be?” Her voice cracked only a little.
“He can’t be very big,” Brent answered. “Might he fit under a bed, do you think?
Allison dropped to her knees and lifted the skirt of her own bed. Nothing. The place was so new there wasn’t even a dust bunny. She looked around her bedroom with new vision. She slid open the closet door and peered in. Only her rack of shoes sat on the floor beneath her clothing. And the luggage she’d taken to Tucson, but it was fully zipped.
She looked around the room. He couldn’t get in a dresser drawer and then shut it. There were no other possible hiding spots in her room.
“I’ll check his room.” Brent turned.
Allison entered the bathroom. Checked behind the shower curtain. Peered into the little cupboard under the sink.
“Allison?” Brent’s voice was quiet.
“Yes?”
“Come.”
She ran the few steps into the happy farm-themed room.
Brent crouched in front of the closet door, open just a crack. “It’s okay, squirt. I won’t hurt you.”
“Finnley?” Allison dropped on her knees beside Brent and stared into the dim recess of the closet. Without his white cast, she might not have spotted him, crouched in the very back with his knees drawn up to his chin beneath wide black eyes.
“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re all right.” She held out her hands. “Come to Auntie Allison, buddy.”
He didn’t flicker so much as an eyelash.
Right. “Good boy, Rover. I’m glad you’re here with Finnley, helping him to feel safe.”
Brent shifted beside her, but she didn’t dare spare him a glance.
“Why don’t you and Finnley come out, Rover? I’ll get you a bowl of dog food, and maybe Finnley would like some breakfast. What do you think?”
A statue couldn’t hold anymore still than her nephew. What had Lori and her string of boyfriends done to this precious child? “Rover, tell Finnley he’s safe. No one is going to hurt him.”
Finnley’s gaze shifted to Allison’s right.
“This is my friend Brent. He’s the person who painted the farm on your wall. Who painted the puppy and his little house just for you.”
The boy looked back and forth between them.
“He did it because he cares about you. I care about you, too, buddy.” Those tears were starting to slide down her cheeks again. She took a swipe at them. Felt Brent’s arm around her shoulders.
“I painted the cows and the sheep and the dog because I wanted to welcome you to your new home,” said Brent. “I did it because your aunt is a very special lady and she loves you.”
Allison’s knees wobbled and she lowered
herself the rest of the way to the floor. Away from Brent. She didn’t dare look at him. What was happening here?
Focus on Finnley. He was the only important guy in her life. “I made some oatmeal. I’ll go in the kitchen and put it on the table for you. Your tummy must be hungry. You didn’t have much to eat yesterday.”
His arms slid down his legs a little. The boy might actually be considering moving.
Allison rose from the floor, Brent’s hand right there to steady her. It would be rude not to accept it, but she let go as soon as she stood vertical. She didn’t feel all that steady as she made her way into the kitchen and scraped Finnley’s oatmeal into a bowl. Her hand trembled as she spooned in a dollop of honey. Then she turned to set the bowl on the table.
She nearly ran into Brent.
He gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me your nephew was Korean?”
Chapter 13
Allison stared at him, her brow furrowed. “What?”
It was all Brent could do not to give her a little shake. “Your nephew. Why didn’t you tell me he was Korean?”
“Oh, is that what he is? My sister never knew.” Allison grimaced. “She slept with a lot of guys, and I guess she didn’t bother to ask questions of their heritage.”
“But…” But what? He’d been just as bad once. Questions hadn’t played a significant part of his vocabulary back then. They’d been more like, “Want to hop in bed? Great, let’s do it.”
Somehow he’d assumed Allison’s nephew would look like her. Caucasian. Yeah, her hair was as dark as his, but women dyed their hair, so a guy couldn’t tell from that. And her skin was definitely pale. So seeing a little guy with straight black hair and darker skin — not tanned from the sun — caught him off guard.
“Sorry. It’s not a big deal to me.” Allison stirred the oatmeal some more.
He doubted it needed stirring.
“He’s my nephew. He could be black or… or purple for all I care.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
Didn’t matter? She hadn’t grown up with a different ethnicity. “It mattered to me as a kid. Growing up. People can be mean.”
Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4) Page 9
