Little Girl Lost. Marisa Carroll
It was a task she was mostly able to accomplish.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the butterflies disappeared from the air almost as swiftly, settling on leaves and flowers and feeding dishes to await the sun’s return. Faith stood up, deciding to come back for the dishes later, and set Caitlin back into the stroller, then checked her backside in the long mirror beside the door. Butterflies often landed on visitors unawares and had to be carefully removed before anyone left. Today no colorful hitchhikers had attached themselves to her.
A rumble of thunder came rolling across the fields, so faint and far away it was felt more than heard. The wind had shifted while she was inside the butterfly room and the big baskets of red and white impatiens and trailing blue lobelia were swinging wildly from their hangers.
“Darn, I should have asked Steve to take them down for the afternoon when he was here earlier,” Faith muttered half to herself, half to Caitlin. The hanging baskets were some of her best sellers and she didn’t want to see them ruined by a storm. Her brother-in-law was six foot five and he’d hung the baskets high enough so they weren’t a hazard to the skulls of customers, but they were out of Faith’s reach, even standing on her tiptoes.
“Stay put like a good girl and I’ll take them down,” Faith told Caitlin, wishing she’d remembered to bring a cookie along with her. Caitlin had been an inquisitive baby and now, in the midst of the terrible twos, she was always on the go, poking her little snub nose in every nook and cranny the moment Faith’s back was turned.
Faith retrieved the big stepladder that she used to open the vents in the roof of the greenhouse and set it up under the hanging baskets. But she’d positioned the ladder just a little too far from her objective and had to lean precariously to reach the first basket. To make matters worse the chain refused to come free of the hook. “Drat,” Faith muttered, wishing she could give voice to something a little more stress-relieving, but she’d learned the hard way that Caitlin was a perfect mimic when it came to swear words.
She wrestled the first basket free, making a mental note to get Steve to lengthen the chains, customer liability or no, and reached over to take down the second. A flicker of movement from the direction of Caitlin’s stroller caught her eye at the same moment a dusty black Blazer turned off the road and started down the lane. A last-minute customer stopping in on the way home from work, or the man who had rented the cottage? It didn’t really matter who it was, she’d rather not be seen struggling down off the ladder with the two heavy baskets swinging from each hand.
“Caitlin, honey,” she said over her shoulder. “Are you being a good girl and sitting still for mommy?”
A tremor of movement and a piping voice directly below her sent Faith’s heart into her throat. “I help you.” A small hand tugged on the leg of her slacks. Caitlin had crawled out of her stroller and climbed up the ladder. Now she was perched a good four feet off the ground, and blocking Faith’s way.
“’Fraid,” Caitlin mumbled suddenly, clinging like a limpet. Faith would have to lower the heavy baskets by their chains as far as she could, let them drop the rest of the way to the floor, then twist around and pull Caitlin into her arms. But as she shifted her weight one of the ladder’s legs began to sink into the soft earth. Faith let out a gasp as she pitched forward.
“Can I help you with those?” a male voice asked.
Faith looked toward the source of the voice. The occupant of the black Blazer was standing just inside the greenhouse entrance. He wasn’t a tall man, but solidly built with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and long blue-jean clad legs.
“No, don’t bother.” Faith swallowed to ease the lump of anxiety that had lodged itself in her throat. She could feel Caitlin wobbling on the step behind her as she attempted to look around at the stranger. “It’s…it’s what’s behind me I’m worried about.” She was going to have to drop the heavy baskets, there was no help for it. The ladder was sinking more deeply into the soft earth each time she shifted her weight. In another few seconds it would tumble over taking both of them with it.
The stranger in the doorway took two long steps forward to see what she was talking about. His eyes widened a moment at the sight of Caitlin clinging to Faith’s pant leg.
“So that’s what has you treed. Come here, little one,” he said, his voice slightly rough around the edges, but with a Southern lilt underneath. “Time to get down.”
“Hi,” Caitlin said, brightly and to Faith’s surprise she held out her arms to the stranger.
“Hi, yourself.” He lifted her up into one arm and steadied the ladder with the other.
“I climb high,” Caitlin informed him smugly.
“Too high.” Faith started down the ladder. It was still tilted at an awkward angle, but she made it without making a fool of herself by falling, even when he reached out and laid a steadying hand on her elbow.
A strange shiver went up and down her spine. Not because his hand was cold or his touch too personal. It wasn’t. His hand was warm, slightly rough against her skin and he let go of her the moment she was steady on her feet. But still his touch unsettled her.
“I go high. I big girl.”
“You are a very brave girl,” he said in a wondering tone. He had a strong face, stern looking, all masculine lines and angles. Not a handsome face, but an intriguing one. As she watched, it softened and relaxed as Caitlin’s laughing giggle coaxed a smile to his lips.
“I Caitlin.”
“Hello—” he hesitated for a brief moment, “—Caitlin.”
Caitlin wrapped her arms around the stranger’s neck. She was a loving child, but she was usually reserved around people she didn’t know, especially men. Caitlin planted a kiss on his cheek. “I like you,” she said.
Faith dropped the heavy baskets and held out her arms. A rush of protectiveness coursed through her. The instant connection between her child and this stranger unsettled her even more than his touch. “Thank you. I’ll take her now.”
He placed Caitlin in her waiting arms. “I don’t think she’s suffered any harm from her climb.”
Faith’s sudden anxiety attack faded away once she held her daughter. She tried to summon a smile and thought she mostly succeeded. “She climbs like a monkey.”
“And you’re all right, too?” he asked, fixing his dark gaze on her directly for the first time. His eyes were blue, like dark, still water, or the color of the sky at twilight. “You look a little pale.” Once more Faith’s breath caught in her throat. Whatever had made her think he wasn’t a handsome man? When he smiled it took her breath away. She would have to be a dead woman not to respond to that smile. “No strains or sprains? Those baskets look heavy.”
“I’m fine, really,” Faith insisted, although her left shoulder was aching a little. She fell back on formality to hide her continuing confusion. “Thank you for your help. I’m Faith Carson.” She shifted Caitlin’s slight weight and held out her hand.
He gave her his. “Hugh Damon. I’ve reserved one of your cottages for the week.”
“Yes, Mr. Damon. Please wait a moment. I’ll get you the key.” She attempted a smile of her own. “Let me thank you for your rescue of me and my daughter one more time. And, of course, welcome to Painted Lady Farm.”
THE STORM ROLLED through quickly leaving the air fragrant with the scent of wet grass. Twilight lingered a long time, the sky shading from red to orange to dusky pink and purple-gray, before the stars twinkled to life in the east. Hugh stood beneath the shelter of the high-pitched overhang at the back of the cottage. Beneath his feet were fieldstones that formed a small patio edged by a low stone wall and flowering plants, fragrant with scents that were heady but unfamiliar. He stared down at the lighted windows of Faith Carson’s house.
He’d almost given himself away earlier, when he’d let his reaction to seeing Beth’s