A knock sounded at the door just as Brenda was heading to the living room to fold laundry. She changed direction and looked through the peep-hole. A girl that looked to be about ten years old stood on her porch. Probably a girl scout or something kind of like it. Brenda swung the door open.
"Can I come in?" The girl's dark eyes were sad. It was the first thing Brenda noticed.
"Where are your parents?" Brenda offered a smile.
"My mom died. My dad didn't want me, so my uncle is raising me. It's awfully cold. Can I come in please?"
Brenda's heart skipped and then beat double. The poor child. Slightly uncomfortable, Brenda ushered the girl in.
"Where's your uncle then?"
"I ran away. He'll know where to find me."
"What's your name sweetie?"
"Marie. What's yours?"
"Brenda. It's very nice to meet you. Mind telling me why he'll know where to find you?"
"Do you have any milk, or maybe cookies? Is the cookie jar still on the island?" Marie took off for the kitchen. The girl knew exactly where it was.
"Marie, don't run in the house, please. Where's your uncle? Do you know his number?" Brenda was concerned. What if the uncle didn't know where to find his young charge?
"He's just uptown, Christmas shopping. He told me to wait at the register for him, but I left when no one was looking. No cookie jar?"
"No, but I do have milk. Hang on." Brenda found herself roped in by the little girl's chatter.
After handing Marie her cow juice, Brenda asked, "How is it you know about this house?"
"I used to live here."
"Oh."
The females eyed each other, and Marie climbed up on the stool in front of the island, adjusting her cup of milk.
"I'm glad someone lives here again. I come here sometimes, just to look at it. My dog, Barley is buried in the backyard under that big rock. I miss him." Marie's eyes clouded again.
"I had a dog once. Her name was Bells. I got her for Christmas, and I miss her still." Brenda couldn't believe it. She was having a conversation about dead dogs with a little orphan girl.
"Can I come visit you? You seem nice."
"We'll see, Marie."
"When parents say 'we'll see' it means the answer is no. It always does."
"I...You know, I think you're right." Brenda sighed in relief as the doorbell rang. "I bet that's your uncle."
Marie hopped off the stool and took off as Brenda headed towards the front door. She swung it wide without looking through the peephole, and the man standing there, rubbing his hands together was nothing like what she expected.
"I'm so sorry, but I am looking for my niece, Marie. Would she happen to be here?"
"Yes, she is. I'm Brenda. Come on in."
The man extended his hand. "I'm Roarke."
Brenda felt a tingle as they touched. His hand was big and strong, much like the rest of him. Roarke's leather coat barely contained his muscular form, and his jeans were well worn and molded to his lower body perfectly. She released his hand, suddenly self-conscious of her holey jeans and sweatshirt.
"She's in the kitchen drinking milk. Poor thing."
"Marie told you her life story already? That's fast, even for her." Roarke laughed.
The kitchen was bare.
"Now where did she go?"
Roarke sighed. "Probably up to her old bedroom."
The pair walked up the staircase, and they came to a stop in front of the door that was closed.
"This past year has been really hard on her. She comes here as often as she can. I don't know if she thinks if she comes here things will be different...but I appreciate you letting her in. It's nice to see someone lives here, and that you're taking care of the place."
Brenda felt the urge to blush at the compliment. How silly.
"What's the connection to the house?"
"My sister and her husband lived here. Once she died, the bills were too much and it went into foreclosure. That's when my father bought it back. This is where I grew up also. My dad would have helped them keep it, but by the time any of us knew the finances were that bad, it was too late."
"So... Richard is your father?" Her landlord.
"Yep, that's him. I hope he's treating you well." Roarke laughed.
"Oh yes, he's a wonderful man. Wow. What a small world."
"It is. Let me get my niece. I was taking her to buy some things for her grandparents when she took off on me."
"Marie said you raise her. That's a noble thing to do." Brenda laid a hand on his forearm.
"Oh, no. My parents have custody. I just take her a couple times a week to give them a break. I think she would rather live with me since my parents are 'so old', as she says."
"Ah. I see. Well it sounds like her world has been turned upside down."
"It's been tough, for all of us." A shadow of sadness crept behind his eyes.
Brenda grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open. Marie was sitting on the window seat in what was now Brenda's craft room/library. The fact it had been the little girl's room explained the ballet shoe border that had been up when she first moved in.
"Marie, I was so worried." Roarke stooped down and laid his hand on her shoulder.
"You knew where I'd be."
"Yes, but the part with you walking here doesn't seem completely safe. You've got to stop running off."
"I just wish I could still live here." Her voice was tiny, and it broke Brenda's heart.
Roarke sighed. It was a battle that was waged at least a handful of times a week, either with him or his parents. Suddenly Brenda crouched down next to him, the scent of vanilla washing over his senses. He glanced at her, saw the tears in her deep hazel eyes, and knew she was a goner.
