had stopped pushing her box and was staring at him as if wondering herself what was happening.
“She’s probably hungry or thirsty,” Evangeline suggested.
Denny shrugged. “What does someone her age eat? I haven’t even had time to go grocery shopping.”
He looked so confused that Evangeline felt a glimmer of sympathy for the guy. This had to be overwhelming.
She felt torn between her schedule and giving Denny some support.
You were once that little girl.
The thought wound through her mind, pulling at memories of watching her father disappear, leaving her with a woman who cared for her but didn’t care about her.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I’m done for the day. I can help you pick out what you might need.”
She could call Emma. She had a young son and her little girl was about six months old by now. She would know what to get. Mia, next door, would have advice, as well, but Evangeline knew she was far too busy with her store and her own family.
Denny shot her such a look of gratitude that, for a moment, Evangeline felt her heart soften toward the guy.
But just for a moment.
I’m helping him because of Ella, she told herself as she walked back to the store.
It has nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.
* * *
“Deb said she’s about a year and a half,” Denny said, following Evangeline down the grocery store aisle. “And so does her birth certificate.”
The birth certificate with his name on it.
He glanced over at Ella, still trying to absorb the reality of this little girl in his life.
Ella sat in the seat of the grocery cart, her hair a fluff of golden curls, her chubby hands clinging to the handle of the cart. She looked nothing like the happy babies smiling back at him from the variety of food jars, boxes and tins filling the shelves.
He wondered if she knew, on some level, that she had been abandoned. Poor kid.
“If she is, I’m thinking she can eat more solid food,” Evangeline was saying. “At least, that’s what Emma told me.”
Apparently, Emma was—from the way Evangeline was quoting her as they stocked up on food, diapers, wipes, juice and snacks—the resident expert on all things baby.
Emma was also providing them with a car seat that she said she would bring to the grocery store when they were done here. Deb hadn’t left him a car seat when she dropped Ella off, which made him wonder if she’d used one at all. He pushed that thought aside. He didn’t want to dwell on Deb and her poor choices. For now he had to keep his focus on Ella.
Evangeline laid her choices in the buggy and continued down the aisle, the wonky wheel of the cart squeaking as they went.
As he followed, Denny couldn’t help but notice the swing of her hair, the grace of her movements. She was a beautiful woman. Even prettier than the pictures Andy had showed him.
Don’t go there, he reminded himself, thinking of her comments about church when he’d first met her. Being with Lila had taught him to seek someone who shared his faith. Shared his beliefs.
And on top of that, what woman would want to have anything to do with a guy whose life was such a mess?
“I never knew this part of the grocery store even existed,” Denny said, eyeing the endless shelves of baby food, diapers and assorted other paraphernalia that, it seemed, Ella needed, as well.
“So what parts of the grocery store do you shop in? Or don’t you buy groceries?” Evangeline asked, slanting him a puzzled look.
“I heard a piece on the radio that said everything you need is on the outside ring of the store, so that’s where I get what I need. Then a quick trip down the frozen-food aisle and, bam, done.” He emphasized his comment with a fist on an open palm.
Evangeline laughed at that; a breathy sound with a little sigh at the end that caught his heart.
He blamed his reaction to it on basic loneliness and being around an attractive woman.
“And now you’ll have to add this aisle to your shopping repertoire,” Evangeline said, setting a box of what looked like huge tongue depressors into the cart.
Denny sighed. “At least until I figure out what to do.”
“What do you mean?” Evangeline asked, consulting her list, then looking up at him.
Denny spread his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know how to take care of this little girl. Not properly. I have my business to run, the ranch to get ready.” He sighed, pushed his hat back on his head and gestured at the slowly filling cart. “And now I have to figure out where to put all this stuff in the apartment.”
“It does seem like a lot of food,” Evangeline agreed as she came to the end of the aisle and turned toward the dairy section.
“So what are we getting now?” Denny asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for messages. There were no notifications on the screen.
Carlos was supposed to have called him to tell him how the job had gone. Denny needed to know so that he could make arrangements to move the truck here to Hartley Creek.
“Milk and yogurt and eggs.” Evangeline held up a list she had compiled, glancing from it to the containers of milk lined up in the dairy case. She reached for a huge jug and dropped it into the cart, plucked a box of mini yogurts off the shelf and a carton of eggs, then, finally, folded the list and put it in her pocket. “I think we’re done.”
“I would think so, too,” Denny said, scratching his head with his forefinger. “I can’t believe one little girl like Ella needs all this stuff.”
“I don’t know anything about babies, so I just have to go with what Emma told me.”
“You never had any younger brothers or sisters you had to take care of?”
“My father obviously never told you I was an only child.” She flashed Denny a tight smile, then turned the cart around.
Once again Denny followed her down the aisle toward the cashiers.
Right. He had forgotten about that.
And she seemed touchy about it, to boot.
He wanted to tell her that having siblings was fun, but it had its responsibilities and moments of hardship. Especially when he’d had to tell his sisters and foster brother that the ranch they had grown up on had to be sold because of his bad decision.
He pushed that memory aside. That was then. This was now. Only, now also included one last souvenir of Lila.
A little girl he’d never known existed until today.
Evangeline laid the stuff on the conveyor belt and chatted up the cashier as she rang the groceries through the till. A young couple waved hello as they walked past, and an older woman stopped to ask her a question about book club.
Denny felt a hint of melancholy as he watched Evangeline’s interactions. At one time he, too, had been part of a community. Had been able to go to town and talk with most anyone.
Now he was running around from job to job, trying to scrabble together enough money to someday settle down again.
He glanced over at Ella, who stared at him with solemn eyes.
He gave her a tentative smile, wondering how in the world he was supposed to untangle this particular knot in his life. Why hadn’t Lila told him?
Would you have believed her?
Probably not.
“We’re done here,” Evangeline said, looking