A Baby by Easter

That’s one thing I don’t intend to mess up.

For the rest of the day, David couldn’t stop speculating on Susannah’s comment. What—or who—had let Susannah down, making her believe she had to earn love?

He found no satisfactory answers to stop his thoughts about Darla’s newest caregiver—at least, that’s how he should be thinking of the beautiful Susannah Wells.

Chapter Four

Two weeks later Susannah stirred under the November sun, stretched and blinked. The scene in front of her brought her wide awake.

“Do you like it?” Darla preened, scissors dangling from one finger.

“Um, it’s different.” Susannah slid her legs to one side and slowly rose. Thankfully her recent light-headedness seemed to have abated. She lifted the scissors from Darla’s hands and put them on the patio table. “Let’s put these away.”

She’d slept a full eight hours last night. It wasn’t as if she was tired. And yet, one minute of sun and she went out like a light. Sleeping on the job. David would be furious.

“Why did you cut off the bottom of your dress, sweetie?” Susannah asked.

“I don’t like this dress,” Darla grumbled. She flopped down into a chair. “Davy says it’s nice but I think it’s ugly.”

“Because it’s black?” Susannah asked. “But you look good in black. You have the right coloring.”

Darla didn’t look at her. Instead she drew her knees to her chin and peered into space.

“Why so serious?” Susannah laid a hand on the shiny dark head. “What are you thinking about, honey?”

“When my mom died, it was like today,” Darla whispered. “There were leaves falling off the trees.”

And you wore a black dress.

“Black isn’t only for funerals, you know, Darla,” she soothed. “Evening wear is often black because it looks so dressy. And a lot of women wear black to look slimmer.”

“Am I fat?” Darla asked, eyes widening.

“No! Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean that.” Susannah couldn’t tell what was going on in the girl’s mind, so she waited.

“Black clothes don’t show marks when you spill stuff,” the whisper came a minute later.

“Oh?” Something told Susannah to proceed very carefully.

“Davy and me went out for pizza last night. It was good, but I spilled.”

“I’m sure the pizza people didn’t care. Restaurants are used to spills,” Susannah encouraged. “Besides, everyone gets messy eating pizza.”

“Davy didn’t. He had on a white shirt.” Darla wouldn’t look at her. “I wore my soccer shirt. It got stains. I looked like a baby.”

Darla was worried about her appearance?

“Davy was embarr—” She frowned, unable to find the word.

“Embarrassed? I don’t think David gets embarrassed.” Susannah wasn’t sure she completely understood what was behind these comments. But it was time to find out why her clothes bothered Darla. She held out a hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Darla asked, taking Susannah’s hand to help her rise.

“To look at your closet.”

“Okay.” Darla picked up the scissors.

“Without those,” she added hastily.

“Oh.” Darla put them back, then led the way to her room.

As they poked through the contents of the closet for the rest of the afternoon, Susannah watched Darla’s reaction to each item. Mostly negative. Susannah had no idea how much time had passed when a sardonic voice in the doorway asked, “Did you lose something?”

“Oh. Hi.” Darla had a point, Susannah decided. David looked as neat and pristine as he’d probably looked when he left the house this morning. She felt rumpled and dingy even being in the same room. “We’re taking inventory.”

“Ah.” He blinked. “I’m going to change. You won’t—er, leave the room like that, will you?”

“I think so.” Susannah winked at Darla. “Has a certain carefree look, don’t you think?”

But Darla didn’t laugh. Instead she rose and began scooping up handfuls of hangers and placing them on the rod in her closet.

“I’ll make it good, Davy,” she said as she scurried back and forth.

“What happened to your dress?” he asked, staring at the ragged, sawed-off hem.

“Oh, that,” Susannah said, noting Darla’s flush of embarrassment. “I’m afraid that’s a fashion plan gone wrong.”

“You did it deliberately?” Pure shock robbed all expression from his face.

“It was unplanned,” she hedged. “But the dress didn’t work in its original state anyway.”

“It worked for—never mind.” His mouth drooped before he quickly closed it. He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back, dark eyes suspicious. “Did anything else happen today?”

“We did a little work in the back flower bed. Darla’s really good at planting and we both like mums, so we planted a few pots.”

“Then I owe you some money.” He nodded. “If you’ll meet me downstairs in a few minutes, I’ll pay you.”

“Good idea. I want to talk to you anyway.” Susannah frowned. Was that fear flickering through his tawny eyes? Of her? “Five minutes?”

He nodded and left.

“Davy paid for my clothes. He likes them. So do I,” Darla insisted loudly. She hurried to get the clothes hung, and in her haste the hangers dangled helter-skelter.

“Hey, slow down,” Susannah chuckled. “I helped create this mess. I’m going to help you clean it up.” By showing Darla how to group clothes, they reorganized the closet and rearranged the drawers. She paused when she pulled out an old pair of almost-white jeans tucked at the back of the closet. “How come you never wear these, Darla?”

“Davy doesn’t like them. And I’m too big.” Darla took them from her and relegated them to their hiding place. She took off the dress she’d cut and drew on another exactly the same except it was navy instead of black.

Clearly Darla didn’t want to irritate the brother who had done so much for her. A lump of pity swelled in Susannah’s throat. Darla was willing to be unhappy rather than tell her brother she hated her clothes.