A Baby by Easter

“Darla’s spent a huge amount of time helping prepare this meal,” Susannah informed him. “It’s only fair she should get to enjoy it.”

“I’m not sure this is about fairness. But—”

She cut him off.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me, that you think I’m some kind of a tramp. It was evident in the way you looked at me when I told Connie I was pregnant.” Her face flushed red but she didn’t stop glaring at him. “Fine. No problem. But this isn’t about me.”

If that’s what she thought, her perceptions were way off. David had lost valuable billing time in the past two weeks thinking about Susannah Wells, and not one thought had been negative.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, frowning.

“This isn’t about you,” he repeated, noting the way the porch light reflected the emerald sparks in her eyes. The deep hollows under her cheeks had filled out a little and that pallid, sickly look was completely gone. Her blond hair shone like a swath of hammered gold as it tumbled down her back.

“It isn’t about you, either. It’s about Darla. She’s tried very hard to make up for worrying you by leaving your house without telling anyone. Helping with dinner is her way of making up.” Susannah lowered her voice as the door creaked open. “Can’t you let her have that much?”

She made it sound like he was some kind of an ogre. David fumed. But he kept his lips buttoned because Darla’s dark head appeared in the doorway.

“Can we stay for dinner, Davy? Connie invited, I didn’t ask.” His sister stood in front of him, hands clasped at her waist as she waited. She looked different and it took David a minute to figure out why. Her hair. It had been styled in a way that showed off her pretty eyes.

“Do you deserve to stay?” he asked, waiting for her to blow up.

But Darla simply shook her head.

“No, I don’t,” she murmured. “I promised not to leave the house without asking, and I broke my promise. I’m sorry, Davy.”

“Are you really?” he asked, suspicious of the meek tone in her voice. He glanced at Susannah but she was watching Darla, her face an expressionless mask.

“I really am.” Darla peeked at Susannah who gave a slight nod. “I got mad because Ms. Matchett said my fairy-tale book was silly. We argued, and she said I was a dummy.” Her bottom lip trembled, but after a moment she collected herself. “I didn’t like her calling me that so I left. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Davy.”

His hands tightened into balls of anger. Dummy. The one put-down Darla hated most of all. No wonder she’d run.

“I was really scared, Darla,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know if you’d been hurt or got lost or what had happened. I was ready to call the police.”

“The police?” Her eyes grew huge, then flared. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!” She stamped her foot.

Susannah cleared her throat. Darla’s entire demeanor altered.

“I’m sorry, Davy,” she said. “I did do something wrong. I know it. And I won’t do that ever again. I promise. Okay?”

Those big brown eyes—they always got to him. Peering up at him so adoringly from the first day he’d seen her in her bassinet. The innocence was still there.

“Okay. I forgive you.”

She threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. Behind her, Susannah hid her grin behind her hand.

“Thank you, Davy.” Darla was all smiles now. “So can we stay for dinner? I helped,” she said proudly.

“If Connie says it’s okay,” he muttered, knowing he’d been bested.

“She will.”

He watched his sister and Susannah share a grin before Darla hurried into the house.

“She was very hurt by that Matchett person’s comment,” Susannah murmured.

He nodded.

“She hates to be called dumb.” He studied her. “What did you say to her?”

“What makes you think I said anything?” She preceded him into the house.

“Connie seems to think the two of you have developed some kind of rapport.” He couldn’t help but notice the way Susannah’s face tightened.

“You don’t like that, do you?” she challenged. “You don’t think someone like me should be anywhere around Darla.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he argued.

“Darla is a lot smarter than you give her credit for, Mr. Foster.”

“My name is David.”

Susannah paused in the foyer, her face serious. “Your sister is very smart, David. She craves your attention. She feels alone and she desperately wants to please you.” She tilted her head to one side, watching him. “I’m no psychiatrist, but I think Darla wants to prove to you that she’s good at something. Hence the reciting of commercials and such.”

“That’s—interesting,” he said.

“She could do so many things.” Susannah’s voice grew intense. “But she says you won’t let her try. You’re afraid she’ll hurt herself. That’s hard on her.”

“Uh—”

“You don’t think I know what I’m talking about. I get that. I guess I wouldn’t listen to me, either. I don’t have any credentials and I’m not exactly a walking advertisement for responsibility. But please, don’t write off Darla’s ideas too quickly. That’s worse to her than being called dumb.”

She’d put her hand on his arm as she spoke, imploring him to listen. David glanced at it. Susannah only then seemed aware of what she’d done and hurriedly jerked her hand away.

“Never mind,” she whispered and hurried toward the others.

All through dinner David kept watch over his sister and the woman she seemed to adore. Darla told Susannah all about the pottery she’d made in her therapy classes, but it was the first time David had heard that she missed working with clay.

Or that she didn’t like the outfit she wore. His choice.

Susannah Wells had been busy.

“Aren’t they great together?” Connie sat by him in the family room, watching Susannah and Darla with Silver outside in the courtyard. “Darla has a way with flowers, David. She repotted several cacti with Hornby this afternoon and you know he never lets anyone help him do that.”

Just yesterday David had refused to let Darla weed the flower garden, afraid she’d hurt herself on the prickly thorns of the cholla.

Was Susannah right? Was he holding her back?

No. Susannah was full of advice, but she wasn’t the one who had to rescue Darla when something bad happened, or calm her when life didn’t go her way.