“He’s fine where he is.”
Grace sat on the edge of the sofa, hands on her knees. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I thought you were going to give him away. I didn’t want to become attached.” When Samuel squirmed, she gave Grace a questioning glance.
“He wants to be on the floor. He’s crawling now. I’ll keep an eye on him so he doesn’t break anything.”
Aunt Elizabeth put him down. “I’ll save you the trouble.” She got up and went around the room, picking up the breakables and putting them on a high shelf.
What had happened to bring about this change? “You were so angry when I told you I was pregnant.”
“Of course I was. Should I have been happy about the circumstances of his conception?”
Grace stared at her. “I was afraid you’d want me to have an abortion.”
“Grace.” Aunt Elizabeth’s tone softened. “You’ve always been a people pleaser. Frankly, I expected your friends to talk you out of having a baby.”
She spoke quickly in their defense. “My friends were the ones who suggested the pregnancy counseling center.”
“Yes, I know that now, and I imagine the family who took you in had plans of their own for Samuel.” She raised a brow in challenge.
“Selah still wants to adopt him.” Samuel slapped his hand against the sliding door to the garden, leaving a sticky handprint on the pristine glass surface. She rose, knowing how her aunt liked everything clean and neat. “I’ll get the Windex.”
“Sit down. Don’t worry about the window.” Aunt Elizabeth chuckled when he slapped it again. “It’s double-paned safety glass. He can’t break it. I’d say Samuel is going to be an outdoors boy.” She glanced at Grace. “Speaking of boys, how is Roman Velasco?”
Grace knew he’d come up in conversation sooner or later, just not this soon. “I don’t know. I quit and moved out of the cottage a couple weeks ago.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s mouth curved in a rueful smile. “He wanted to be more than friends.”
“He wanted to be friends with benefits.”
“I’m glad you passed on it. Most relationships that start out that way don’t end well.” Aunt Elizabeth shook her head. “A pity, though. I liked him.”
Grace lifted her chin in surprise. “You did?”
“Yes, I did. Unlike Patrick Moore, who never cared enough to consider your feelings about anything, Roman was very defensive of you. He thought I was treating you badly.” She shrugged. “Which, of course, I was. Roman Velasco also couldn’t take his eyes off you, another thing that set him apart from your ex-husband. The man loves you, Grace.”
“Not enough.”
“He’s an idiot, but then most men are, where women are concerned. I imagine you were something new to him, a girl with moral values and faith. What do I tell him when he calls?”
“He won’t.” She imagined Roman back at a nightclub, picking up some pretty blonde on the make, just like the one who had come on to him at the gallery. He’d be careful, of course. He’d want someone who knew the rules. She kept telling herself she was glad any chance of a relationship was over, but her heart beat faster at the mention of his name.
Aunt Elizabeth studied her. “Well, we don’t have to talk about him until you’re ready. We have plenty of other things to discuss. The past, for one thing.” She stood. “Why don’t you set up the playpen in the kitchen so we can keep an eye on this little wanderer while I finish getting dinner ready?”
Grace did as her aunt suggested. Samuel wasn’t particularly pleased to be caged. She put an activity center in the playpen to keep him occupied. Aunt Elizabeth stood at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes, rousing memories from Grace’s childhood. She’d come into this house traumatized and grieving.
As an adult, Grace could understand and forgive her aunt’s inability to show compassion to a traumatized child. Aunt Elizabeth had been grieving, too, and angry over the circumstances of her sister’s death. But as that child, Grace had lived in constant fear. Not just when she moved in with Aunt Elizabeth, but well before that, when she witnessed her father’s rage, and when her mother taught her to play hide-and-seek. She’d learned to hide from so many things. Was she hiding now?
Aunt Elizabeth spoke over her shoulder. “Your hair looks nice down around your shoulders.” She cut the peeled potatoes, dumped them into a pot, and added tap water. She dried her hands, added salt to the water, and put the pot on the stove. She faced Grace and leaned against the sink counter as though bracing herself. “You’re very quiet.”