“Not so loud.”
“And then when you knocked me down the stairs. If I had been a home intruder, you would’ve scared me straight.” His laughter filled the hallway. “I’m going to wake up sorer tomorrow than when I was in boot—”
She slapped her palm over his mouth. “Pipe down.”
He still shook with laughter, grabbing hold of her wrist and moving it away. But just as quickly, she whipped her other hand into place.
“Lucas, you’ll wake them up.”
“Wake who up?” Her hand muffled his question.
She glanced behind her, at the door down the hall she’d left a few inches open at Violet’s insistence. “The kids. Cade already woke up crying once. And I don’t blame him considering he’s sleeping in a dresser drawer. That’s why I was in the attic. I was trying to find a crib.”
She looked back to Lucas just in time to see his amusement from seconds ago give way to complete confusion. “What kids?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but a squeaking voice spoke first. “Jessa?”
She turned to find Violet hovering in the bedroom doorway, a stained rag doll dangling limp in her hand and tears streaking down her face.
Lucas couldn’t get it out of his head—the picture of Jen kneeling in front of that little girl, whoever she was, and whispering gentle words. Eventually Jenessa had pulled her into a hug and then lifted her into her arms, carrying her into the bedroom.
He’d followed, pausing at the doorway, taking stock of another kid already in the bed, the baby in a dresser drawer just like Jen had said.
He stood in her kitchen now, pouring pancake batter onto a hot griddle. What was Jenessa Belville doing with a trio of kids? Did she have nieces and a nephew she’d never mentioned? No, she didn’t have any siblings. A friend’s kids, perhaps? But they shared most of the same friends.
What were the children doing here and when had they arrived and—
And how was it possible that a woman who was usually dressed with clothing and jewelry and shoes effortlessly coordinated could look even more beautiful in sweatpants and a floppy t-shirt? And when she’d lifted that little girl into her arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world . . .
She’d looked downright maternal. Not a word he’d ever thought in association with Jenessa Belville.
Bubbly and gorgeous and bold, yes.
But maternal? Not so much. The only kid he’d ever even seen her with was Sam’s daughter, and Jen had always seemed to hang back a little when Sam brought Mackenzie around. But then, they all did. Sam never had nearly as much time with his daughter as he wanted and the situation with Mackenzie’s mother was complicated and, well, some things were off-limits . . . even between friends.
Sometimes especially between friends.
Like the thoughts Lucas shouldn’t have let himself entertain as he’d watched Jen with that girl. Like what a perfect picture she made. How he’d used to imagine that exact picture for himself. A family, kids to tuck in at night . . . a wife.
But his future was with Bridgewell. Assuming he didn’t make a mess of this mentoring thing with a guy, Noah, whose last name he’d already forgotten. But how in the world did Flagg expect him to make some kind of positive difference in someone else’s life when he’d spent so many years making a mess of his own?
Maybe in the morning he should try arguing with Flagg once more. Convince him to find someone else to buddy up to Noah and let Lucas go back to doing what he was good at—overseas missions with a strategic protocol and clear end game. Flagg was the wise, counseling type. Not him.
“You’re making pancakes?”
He spun around. Jenessa stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. She’d thrown an oversized sweatshirt over her tee and tidied her hair into a ponytail, but a few loose strands still straggled around her face.
“Your stomach was growling.”
“But you don’t have to feed me, Lucas.”
“Maybe not, but I wasn’t about to leave without finding out why you’ve got three kids camped out upstairs. Who are they? What are they doing here? How long are they staying?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, and I don’t know.” She sat on a stool at the island. “Actually, that’s not quite true. I know their names—Colie, Violet, and Cade Hollis. We found them out in the caretaker’s cottage earlier. We weren’t able to get much info out of them, but from what we did get, Sam was able to confirm that they’re from Maple Valley. They lived with their mom and grandmother over on Ashton Circle.”
Hmm, not the nicest part of town. “Lived?”
“She died almost three months ago—cancer. Their grandmother took care of them after that, but apparently she died a few days ago—long-time health problems. Sam put those pieces together after stopping at their house. He called the hospital. Seems they’d been trying to get ahold of a next-of-kin, but no one had gotten as far as realizing there were three kids in the picture. Oh, and Sam said there’s an eviction notice on the front door of their rental house. We think that’s why they left home.”
And apparently ended up in the cottage behind Jen’s house. “Their father?” Lucas asked.
“They clammed up when we asked.”
“And how long have they been in the cottage?”
“A night and a day.”
Three kids—alone in an empty cottage. No electricity. No adults. Dealing with the recent loss of their mother and now their grandmother’s death on top of it.
“Sam says I need to call DHS in the morning, and I know he’s right, but what’s going to happen to them? I can’t bear the thought of what they’ve been going through. Colie—she’s only twelve but she’s been taking care of her siblings alone for days.”
Jenessa lifted her eyes—a deep, dark blue, they penetrated with so many emotions just now he couldn’t make out one from another. Until they brightened under the tawny light of the fixture overhead and she grinned. “That frilly apron is a good look on you, Luke.”
He glanced down. He’d forgotten he’d even put on the silly thing. Only had because he’d figured it’d make Jen laugh.
“Do you smell burning?”
Shoot. He whipped around, slid the spatula under the pancake, and freed it from the heat. Not burnt, just a smidge overly brown. He dropped it on a plate, half-covering another, and turned back to Jen, setting the plate in front of her. “You can start eating these now, but how about scrambled eggs, too?”
“Sure, thanks. Although if you’re being so good to me because you’re hoping to avoid a lecture for missing the party tonight . . .” She shrugged. “Well, then you’ve completely succeeded.”
He’d been in Jenessa’s kitchen often enough to know where to find her silverware. He pulled open a drawer and nabbed a fork, plunked it and a bottle of syrup in front of Jen. “I saw the For Sale sign, by the way. You’re finally going to sell this place?”
She nodded as she cut into a pancake. “I think so. I have a feeling I was premature in putting up the sign, though. I’m not sure I’ll get any takers with the property in its current condition—especially out back.”