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F IVE
    A DDIE STEPPED INTO the room at the end of the long hall. The tiny space held only a dresser and a single bed covered with a blue and yellow quilt. A bowl and pitcher had been placed atop the doily on the dresser. Beside the bed lay a plain rag rug on the oak floors. The scent of beeswax hung in the air. Pleasant. And lavish compared to her stark bedroom at the lighthouse. The window in this room looked out into the deep shadows of redwood forest, and she shivered at their imposing height.
    She dropped her valise on the floor. “What about my trunk?”
    “The driver will bring it up. Will this suit?”
    “Of course. Where is my charge’s room?”
    “Across the hall. I shall show you.” Mr. Driscoll stood aside for her to exit, then stepped in front of her and led the way. Her slippers sank into the plush runner in the hall. The green wallpaper appeared new. Portraits of people lined the walls, and she longed to linger over the images to see if she could find a woman with red curls.
    He motioned to her, and she followed him into the room opposite hers. Tin soldiers, a wooden train, and a stack of books on a small shelf proclaimed the space to be a child’s room. A small table with two chairs was under the window. The other furnishings included a cot, a chest of drawers, and a chifforobe. This room had wallpaper in a tiny blue print that matched the blue quilt on the bed. A rug covered the unpainted floor.
    “He’s not here” she said.
    “He’s likely in the side yard with his nurse.” He motioned to her and exited the room.
    She hurried to fall into step. “If he has a nurse, does he really need me?”
    “He’s five. It’s time he began to receive instruction in reading and sums. Come along, my dear.” His clipped words urged her to hurry.
    She quickened her pace. So many new relationships to learn. After a lifetime of loneliness, she was about to discover a family. Her pulse stuttered, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation. She followed him down the steps.
    Gideon greeted her on the porch and pressed his cold nose against her hand. She rubbed his ears. “What about Gideon? He’s used to sleeping with me.”
    “Gideon will sleep in the barn. It’s clean and dry.”
    “Yes, sir.” She stepped across the spongy grass to the side yard. A small boy gripped a baseball bat in his hands and squinted into the sun. An older woman in a gray dress prepared to pitch a baseball at him.
    Addie drank in the curly dark hair and his quite adorable cowlick. He was a miniature version of his striking father. He wore knickers and a white shirt. He bit his tongue as he concentrated on the nurse preparing to pitch the ball. She wanted to run to him and scoop him into her arms. She longed to hear him call her Auntie. After a lifetime of wanting a large family, here was part of all she’d longed for.
    The child saw Gideon. “A dog!” He dropped the bat and called the dog to him.
    Gideon trotted forward, and the boy rubbed his ears. “He likes me,” Edward said, his voice eager.
    “Of course he does,” Addie said. She knelt beside him. Her fingers itched to bury themselves in his curls. She wanted to put her nose in his neck and smell his little-boy scent. He was adorable, and she was already in love.
    “Does he like to play ball?” he asked.
    “I’m sure he’d like that very much,” she said. She stood and watched the boy throw the ball to Gideon for a few minutes. Then Edward dropped the ball and stood staring. “Edward, are you all right?” she asked.
    Gideon lunged toward the boy. When he reached him, he grasped Edward’s sleeve in his teeth. “Gideon, down,” Addie called, starting after him. The dog tugged the child down to the grass. She gasped and put on an extra burst of speed. She’d never known her dog to attack. He was the most mild-mannered canine. Edward slumped to the ground. His limbs began to twitch.
    The nurse reached him. “He’s having a seizure!”