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Lily makes a sound of disgust and shakes her head. “Stay right there, James.”
James immediately stops trying to back away.
Hand lifting, finger pointing again at Evie, her mommy asks, “You, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Evie drops her chin and eyes.
I squirm in the closet, wishing there was some way I could help her out of this. But I didn’t know what she did in the first place…
“Well?” Evie’s mom asks impatiently.
“I’m sorry?” Evie asks and glances up hopefully.
Evie’s mom nods her head slowly then she reaches out and grabs Evie’s arm. “Yes, that’s exactly what you say, and exactly what you’re going to say to Uncle Simon’s face.”
“No!” Evie cries out in horror.
My heart cries out with her.
“Oh yes,” Evie’s mom says with a touch of relish. “You’re going to tell him you’re sorry, and you’re going to clean up the mess. Please escort Abigail to the nursery, James.”
Evie tries to dig in the heels of her white slippers as her mom starts to tug her down the hall. “Mommy, please! Please don’t make me do this. He really is mean!”
“You should have thought of that before you pulled your little prank, young lady!” Evie’s mom snaps with no sympathy.
Evie starts to sob, and I can’t help but sob with her.
Looking between us, uncomfortable and worried, James calls out, “I’ll put a call in to your Aunt Meredith, Evie.”
With tears streaming down her face, Evie glances over her shoulder and sniffles. “Thank you, Uncle James!”
“Incorrigible, all of you men! I swear!” Evie’s mom mutters as she tugs Evie around the corner.
Sighing, James rakes his fingers through his hair then looks down at me. “Don’t cry, Abigail. I’ll take care of this.”
I nod my head and wipe at my eyes.
James holds out his hand. “Lets get you to the nursery so I can make the call.”
I place my hand in his and feel a little better when his big fingers wrap around mine.
James is a lot like Evie’s daddy. He often finds Evie’s pranks funny. I have hope he’ll be able to help Evie.
Simon really is a big mean poopy head.
Walking faster than when he led us to the closet, I almost have to run to keep up with James’s long legs as he guides me to the nursery.
And once we reach the door, he simply yanks it open and motions for me to go in.
Releasing my hand, he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
Biting my lip, I glance over at him, but he’s already walking away.
A little nervous about getting in trouble with Mary for sneaking away, I peek my head around the door to look in first.
Mary is sitting in a rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth as her hands work a pair of knitting needles connected to a ball of pink yarn.
Off to the side, near the cabinet that houses all the building blocks, Adam kneels on the floor beside baby David. It looks like Adam is trying to help David build something.
Oh no, I didn’t know Adam would be here…
My stomach feels a little sick.
Adam usually doesn’t play with us in the nursery. He’s usually too busy with other things. He’s only a couple of years older than Evie and me, but all the grownups treat him as if he’s one of them. He even gets to wear suits and has his own office.
I start to back away from the door. I really don’t want to go in there if Adam is there. I’ll have to find somewhere else to hide until my mommy comes to get me…
“Abigail?” Mary calls out, her attention lifting from her knitting needles.
Darn it. I’m busted.
There’s no hope of running now.
Taking a deep breath, I step over the threshold and say shyly, “Hi, Mary.”
Hoping she won’t immediately lay into me for being naughty.
Adam’s head pops up in surprise from the blocks he’s stacking on top of each other and he glances at me.
Normally, I’d smile at him.
But lately, like Simon, he’s been a big mean poopy head.
Adam hasn’t always been mean to me. He used to be very nice and sweet. So sweet I used to pretend I was his Cinderella and he was my Prince Charming.
The way he treated me made me feel like a real princess.
He would always hold doors open for me and pull out my chairs. Once he learned I really like strawberry lollipops, he started carrying them in his pockets for me. Sneaking them to me whenever mommy and daddy weren’t looking. He would even protect me from other, meaner boys.
He once pushed a boy down the stairs for picking on me.
And he liked to hold hands.
I really liked to hold hands with him.
But now that I’m friends with Charlie, he’s changed. Charlie is just as nice as Adam… or as nice as Adam was.
