She looked up, her head bent way back, her wide blue eyes gazing at him with absolute trust. He felt as if he were torturing Bambi.
“Why don’t I make a few calls,” Rebecca said, coming to his rescue. She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and reached for the phone. “There’s a shelter about twenty miles from here. I’ll see if they have room.” She picked up the receiver.
“Travis?” Mandy tugged again.
“Yes?”
“I want my mommy.”
Travis crouched down in front of her. “She’s in the hospital. She needs to sleep tonight and get better.”
Mandy held her teddy so tightly, he worried she might squish the stuffing out the side. She leaned close and whispered. “I don’t know that lady. I don’t want to stay here. I want my mommy.”
He’d spent enough time with kids her age to recognize the quiver in her voice. Tears would come next and after that, he would feel like a heel and— He stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets.
“You think I should take her home with me?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“It would be best for her. Elizabeth isn’t going to need a sick kid on her hands, just as she’s getting out of the hospital herself.” Rebecca rose and walked around the desk. She wore a floral print jumper over a white T-shirt. With her long curly hair and conservative style of dressing, she looked like a Sunday school teacher. Travis suspected it was a facade and that deep inside, she had the wild streak of the best kind of a sinner.
When she’d moved to Glenwood six months ago to take over as director of the county facility, he’d asked her out. His big seduction scene had ended up failing badly. They were, he’d realized within the first ten minutes, destined to be good friends. Rebecca had promised to leave his reputation as a heartbreaker intact and not tell the world his kisses had left her cold. Travis stared at her big brown eyes and sighed. He felt mild affection for Rebecca and nothing else. He must be getting old and slowing down.
“You’re the only friend Mandy has,” Rebecca said. “If I could take her home with me, I would. But my staff is exhausted, and I’m staying here tonight. Anyway, you have Louise.”
He thought of his housekeeper. Today was her day off but he knew if he called she would come over to help and show off her latest craft project. At least she wasn’t knitting anymore. He already had two drawers filled with ugly, ill-fitting sweaters and socks she’d made for him.
“I suppose that might work. But I don’t know anything about children,” Travis muttered, trying to ignore Mandy tugging on him again.
“Your nephews stay with you.”
“Travis,” Mandy said.
“That’s different.”
“How?” Rebecca asked.
“Travis?”
“They’re family. And boys.” He looked down. Those blue eyes were killing him. “What?”
“I want to stay with you.”
“You’re the only person she knows in town. Come on, be a hero. It’s what you’re best at.”
He glared at Rebecca. “Thanks.”
Undaunted, she smiled. “Let me get you some supplies.” She disappeared down the hall.
“Why me?” he asked no one in particular.
“Travis? Are you mad at me?”
“Mandy, no.” He swept Mandy up in his arms and gave her a hug. She wrapped her spindly legs around his waist. “I’m not mad. We’ll have fun. I’ll read you a story tonight, okay?”
She nodded. “And Mr. Bear,” she said, holding out the tattered animal.
“And Mr. Bear.”
Rebecca returned with a small cloth bag. “I’ve packed a nightgown, some underwear and a shorts set for tomorrow.” She handed Travis the bag, then smiled at Mandy. “Do you want a pink toothbrush or a purple one?” She had both in her hand.
The little girl stared for a second, then pointed shyly. “Pink.”
“You got it.” Rebecca dropped that one in the bag and walked over to the door. “I’ll be here, so call me if there’s any trouble. It’s only one night.”
“Like you care,” he grumbled.
“Stop it. You’ll have a great time. Think of it as father training. For when you have your own kids.”
“Not my style. Haynes men don’t make good parents.” It was a familiar argument between the two of them. The problem was Rebecca hadn’t figured out he wasn’t kidding. She shook her head. “Let me know what happens. And tell Elizabeth not to worry about coming into work until she’s completely healed. I won’t be giving her job to anyone else.”
“Yeah, I will.” He shifted Mandy so that she was supported by one arm, then handed her the bag and dug in his pocket for his keys. “Say goodbye, Mandy.”
“By.” Now that she was getting her way, she smiled broadly. “Can we have the siren on?” she asked as they stepped out of the building and walked toward the sheriff’s car in the parking lot.
“No.”
She pouted and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “I can’t use the siren when it’s not an emergency.”
She thought for a minute. “I gotta go.”
His heart sank. “Now?”
She nodded. “It’s a ’mergency.”
* * *
Elizabeth raised the hospital bed and stared out the window. From where she was lying, she could see the corner of the small parking lot and a plot of grass with a Chinese maple in the center. It was early Saturday morning and she’d seen only a handful of cars enter the hospital grounds.
Everything was going to be fine. She’d recited the phrase over and over, hoping by saying it enough she would start to believe it was true. But panic threatened, just below the surface of her carefully constructed facade.
She was scared. There was no getting around the lump in her throat and the cold hard knot in her stomach, just next to the tender incision the doctors had made yesterday. She wasn’t frightened for herself. The surgery had gone well, and she was healing nicely, according to the doctor who had visited early that morning. She had medical insurance, so the unexpected stay in the hospital wasn’t going to deplete her savings.
The lump in her throat got bigger and her eyes burned from unshed tears. She blinked them away and prayed that her daughter hadn’t been too scared last night, alone in a strange place. Had they let her sleep with her bear? Had she had any bad dreams? There were, on average, twenty children at the county facility. Had Mandy gotten lost among all the other kids? Who would have been there to hold her if she cried?
Logically, Elizabeth knew she hadn’t had another choice as far as her daughter was concerned. Having her spend the night in the county home had made sense. She would be fed and warm and have a bed to sleep in. But knowing her only child had been put there, like a stray puppy rounded up by the pound, made her feel like the worst kind of parent. Mothers were supposed to do better for their children. Of course, mothers were also supposed to know what they were doing when they picked out fathers—and look at how that had turned out.
She reached over to the black phone on the small metal nightstand and dialed the number she’d gotten from directory assistance. For the second time in fifteen minutes, she heard a busy signal. From what she remembered from her tour during her interview a month ago, the county facility only had one line. She hung up the receiver. She would