Holly had arrived to anger, but she’d bet there’d been laughter a few minutes before. Hard not to laugh when you had children, water, dirt, a dog, and mud flying in all directions. Billy and his sister stepped up to flank her and the dog. Mona would have laughed herself to stitches at this scene and probably joined the kids in the mud.
“Here’s Kit,” the psychologist announced, as though the cavalry had arrived.
Maybe it had. Mona trusted this man enough to make him her partner on her precious project.
“What’s up?” he asked, all guileless wonder.
Holly hid a grin. He had brains inside the body of a Hemsworth brother.
“A silly game.” Rusty placed her hand on his arm in a blatant claim for support. “Billy turned the ditch into a mud bath.”
The ditch and my mattock. Holly looked at the boy and his fairy sister. Mona had fallen here. Billy hadn’t started this. His sister had, and he was covering up for her. Protecting each other would give them a place to start healing from whatever atrocities they’d witnessed in their short lives.
“Why don’t you tell Kit all about it”—she suggested to Rusty—“while I get Billy and...?” Her eyes asked the question.
The girl stroked Bella’s head, leaving Billy to answer. “Sophie.”
“From the Greek Sophia.” Holly smiled at the fairy. “It means wise.” She looked across at Rusty, the Rottweiler. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Rachel,” the woman muttered.
Meaning female sheep. A follower, not a leader. Holly would choose Sophie as a name any day.
“Sorry again that I left Bella out,” Holly said. “I’ll make sure she’s tied up or inside in future.” She glanced at Kit. “We’ll be in the kitchen in about forty-five minutes if you want to chat.”
* * *
Kit walked into the kitchen to find the kids sitting on the floor rubbing Bella dry with old towels. The kettle was whistling, biscuits were on the table, and the kids were dressed in what must be Mona’s old pullovers. Sophie’s sagged baggily around her knees. Although the sleeves were rolled up and fixed in place with the kind of elastic bands he’d seen old men use to hold their shirt-sleeves up. Billy had added a pair of rolled up tracksuit pants. On closer inspection, Holly wore a matching pair. Hers were stretched across her backside to accentuate curves previously camouflaged by her loose trousers. Very appealing curves. And it hurt to admit that a selfish, bubbly airhead stirred his libido.
“That was my last clean outfit.” She shrugged, and her serenity was appealing too. “I had to raid Mona’s wardrobe as well.” She held up the kettle. “Want a cup?”
“Please.” He sat and watched the kids for a few minutes. They’d been making overtures to the animals from the first, Billy especially. Today had probably been too good a chance to lose. Bella unexpectedly in the garden, two adults instead of three or four. He’d have to fix that. “You achieved a lot in an hour.”
“Sophie and I took the upstairs bathroom. I put Billy and Bella in the downstairs shower together and told him not to come out until they were both clean.” She outlined her solution.
He winced. “How’s the shower now?”
She grinned as if she didn’t give a damn, and some of the guilt-by-association tension he’d absorbed as Rachel listed Billy’s transgressions shifted.
“I’ll check later.” She set four mugs on the table with milk and sugar nearby. “Tea’s up.”
The children climbed onto chairs. Billy poured milk into Sophie’s cup then his own and gave them each three spoons of sugar. He offered the sugar bowl to Holly, who shook her head.
“No thanks,” Kit said when Billy held it toward him.
A buzzer sounded. “The washing machine has worked its magic.” Holly stood. “Time for the dryer.”
Kit waited until she’d left the room. “Mona said she went out to find Max.” Kit cursed his size when the boy cringed. Kit always moved slowly and kept his voice low, but size alone was a powerful threat to a child. Especially when their primary male role model was a big bastard who used his fists without warning. He also cursed Rachel’s easy blaming of the boy. Billy had been digging the ditch, but in Kit’s absence, it was her responsibility to check all tools were returned to the shed at the end of the day. He pushed his hand through his hair. He should have made it his business to come back. “I didn’t do last rounds on Monday night.”
“It was my mattock,” the boy insisted.
“You always return your tools to the shed before you go home, Billy. Without fail. What happened on Monday?” He took an unhurried sip of his tea and leaned back in the chair.
“Tim climbed a tree,” Sophie whispered before Billy nudged her in the ribs, shutting her down.
“Mona told me.” Kit nodded as Holly resumed her seat. “Tim got scared, didn’t know how to come down.”
Both children stayed silent. Holly exchanged a glance with Kit and held out the plate. “Orange cream?”
Billy grabbed two and shoved one in his mouth. Sophie slid one off the plate and took a delicate bite.
“Mona also said you climbed up and helped him down.” Kit reached for a biscuit, took a bite, and let the silence stretch. “Tim was embarrassed, Mona said. So, Rachel took everyone else to the back of the yard. You stayed with Tim until the home bus came.”
“Did you see Mona?” Billy sent Kit a sideways look.
“Yesterday and again this morning. She looked better this morning.” He glanced at Billy. “I was worried last night.”
“You called her.” Billy pointed at Holly.
Billy’s pain was the perfect match to his. A father’s violence tainted a son. You feared it in yourself. You blamed yourself for not saving your mother or your sister or your dog. He shrugged. “I didn’t think Mona was going to die. But when you feel like crap, it’s good to have your family around.”
Billy and Sophie’s maternal grandparents had taken them in after their mother’s murder. The children also had uncles and aunts and cousins, and although none of them had been able to break through the kids’ barriers yet, they were working on it. Years ago, no one had taken Kit, the offspring of a murderer, into their house. Just like your father. But if Billy blamed himself for Mona’s fall, they were back at the beginning.
“Did you know Mona used to be a nurse, Billy?” Holly drew the boy’s attention to her.
“That’s why she handles First Aid on site.”
“Exactly. So, she knows all about accidents. It was her job.”
The boy stared at her as if wanting to believe Mona’s fall was an accident. Kit willed Holly to find words to erase the raw agony on Billy’s face.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Holly explained. “No one expects an accident to happen. No one means for it to happen. No one’s to blame. It’s just an accident.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. Sophie slipped her hand into her brother’s.
“Mona knows that,” Holly said matter-of-factly. “She told me to tell you it wasn’t your fault. Do you want to play with Bella until your clothes are dry?”