Safe In The Lawman's Arms

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“That could work,” Mike agreed.

“Say at one?”

“Perfect. We’ll be here.”

After a few more pleasantries, Mike hung up and his gaze moved toward the ceiling. Above, the plug was pulled, and the sound of water rushed through the pipes in the walls.

He’d miss this, much as he hated to admit it. He’d miss hearing laughter and bathwater. It was a silly thing to miss, but there it was. He’d never admit it out loud to anyone.

* * *

MALORY KNELT NEXT to her small charge in the middle of the floor, summer sunlight pooling on the tiles from the open bathroom window. A warm breeze pushed into the room, fluttering the white curtains. Next to them, the water drained slowly from the tub. Malory pulled the towel off Katy’s wet hair and picked up a brush.

“I don’t like that.” Katy shook her head adamantly and clamped her hands onto her head.

“Why not?” Malory asked, squatting down next to her. They’d encountered this before.

“It’s ouchie.”

“I put some special conditioner in your hair so it won’t hurt,” Malory said.

Katy didn’t answer but appeared to be thinking it over.

“What if I promise to be very, very careful? Will you let me brush your hair then?”

Tears filled Katy’s eyes and when Malory came toward her, she shied away in terror. Malory looked down at the brush, and the horrible thought struck her that someone might have used a brush to punish the tiny girl in the past.

“Okay, okay...” Malory put the brush behind her and pushed it across the floor. “No brush. Would you let me touch your hair with my fingers?”

Katy complied to that request, and Malory detangled the toddler’s hair as best she could using her fingers as combs. Whatever this child had been through, it would take a lot of love and patience to win her trust again.

“What story do you want before bed, sweetie?” Malory asked as she worked on a knot.

“I want him to read it.”

“You mean Uncle Mike?” Malory asked.

Katy nodded.

“Well, why don’t you go choose a book from my bag and then you can ask him.” Malory smiled as the little girl scampered off toward Malory’s bedroom. Some scuffles and thumps filtered through the wall as Malory picked up the towels and wiped up the puddles on the floor. The brush lay next to the tub, and she picked it up, sadness piercing her heart.

“What did they do to you?” she whispered, then dropped the brush into a drawer.

By the time she was finished making the bathroom presentable again, Katy stood in the doorway, a book clutched against her chest.

“Got one!” she announced.

“Okay, let’s go find Uncle Mike.”

She’d have to fill Mike in on these developments. Maybe he could arrange some therapy for Katy. She’d need help healing from her trauma.

Katy traipsed down the stairs dressed in a nightgown, damp at the shoulders from her wet hair. When Malory caught up in the living room, she faltered. Mike sat on the couch with his feet up, the TV on a sports channel. His T-shirt tugged at his muscled chest and arms, and from the angle where Malory stood, she could see the stubble on his chin.

“Go ahead,” Malory said quietly.

Mike looked up when he heard Malory’s voice, and Katy moved forward, her book held over her chest like a shield.

“Uncle Mike?” she whispered.

“Yes, Katy?” He flicked off the TV and dropped the remote. Katy crept closer until she stood right in front of him.

“Uncle Mike?” she repeated breathlessly, then thrust the book out in front of her, smacking him solidly in the kneecaps.

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “Do you want me to read that to you?”

She nodded but didn’t make a move.

“Do you want to come sit next to me?” he asked.

Katy considered for a moment, then lifted her arms toward him. “Up,” she said.

Mike glanced up at Malory uncertainly, then gently lifted the small girl up onto his lap. She pulled her knees up and settled against him, her head tipped toward his chest. Mike’s expression softened, and Malory thought she saw his eyes mist, but she couldn’t be sure, because he blinked quickly, cleared his throat and opened the book.

“Okay,” he said. “This book is called Lippity Loppity the Bunny.”

“Who’s that?” Katy asked, pointing at the picture.

“Um...” Mike looked closer. “My guess is Lippity Loppity.”

“Okay.” She put her head back against his chest and heaved a deep sigh.

“‘One day, Lippity Loppity the little bunny hopped away from his cozy burrow toward the big woods,’” Mike read.

“Is Lippity Loppity a girl bunny?” Katy asked.

“I think he’s a boy.”

“I don’t like that. Lippity Loppity is a girl.”

“Oh.” Mike glanced up at Malory again, humor glimmering in his eyes. “Okay. I must have gotten it wrong. Let’s keep reading.” He turned the page. “‘Lippity Loppity’s mother told him’—I mean, her—‘that the woods were no place for small bunnies to go alone, but Lippity Loppity didn’t listen.’”

“Where is the mommy?” Katy asked.

“I don’t see her in the picture,” Mike said.

“What’s she like?”

Mike glanced toward Malory with alarm, and she understood his discomfort. This was difficult territory considering that Katy’s mother was in prison, but she needed to believe in warmth and love, even if her life experience hadn’t included the kind of stability she craved. Malory shrugged, giving him a sympathetic smile. This one was his call.

“Well, I think she would be warm and snuggly,” Mike said.

“Oh.” Katy considered this.

“‘Inside the woods—’” Mike began.

“Does Lippity Loppity have a daddy?” Malory asked.

Mike flipped forward in the story, scanning each page. When he reached the end, he flipped back to the page they were on and shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to say.”

“But do you know?” she asked earnestly. “Does she have a daddy?”

“Everyone has a daddy somewhere,” Mike said quietly. His gaze flickered toward Malory again, and she felt a soft flutter within. She put a hand on her belly. Mike was right. Everyone did have a daddy, even if that daddy didn’t want her. How did you explain that to a child? Sadness welled up inside Malory. She knew the fatherless feeling all too well, and unfortunately, so would her baby.

“Are you my daddy, Uncle Mike?” Katy asked, big blue eyes fixed on Mike’s rugged face.

“I, um—” Mike cleared his throat. “No, Katy, I’m not your daddy.”

“Oh.” Katy’s whole frame sank down in disappointment, and while Mike read the rest of the story, her glum expression didn’t change.

“‘And Lippity Loppity never went near the woods again,’” Mike read. “‘The end.’”

Katy didn’t speak, nor did she lift her head.

“Is she sleeping?” Mike whispered.

“No.” Malory slid off her seat and moved next to Mike on the couch. Katy looked up at Malory dismally.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Malory asked quietly.

Katy didn’t answer and likely couldn’t put her thoughts into words. She was too young to grapple with the harshness of her reality. Malory held out her arms.