Briar looked up at the sky, slowly drawing in a breath. No way on earth was she telling them where her pond was. She was claiming it back. “Sorry, Sadie, I’m late. My sister and brothers will be worried.”
Briar waved to Henry before she turned off the main road and strutted all the way down a long dirt path until she reached her home, not once looking back, despite the temptation to learn what the couple had decided to do.
The pot of geraniums near the door was always a welcoming splash of red against the brownness of everything. Brown dirt. Brown wooden shack. Brown smocks. Everything in her life was the color of dirt.
“Nanny?” she called out. “I’m home.”
Like clockwork, Nanny would welcome Briar into the cottage and allow her a few minutes to rest her feet. Together they would drink hot tea and discuss the children before starting on the evening chores. Usually the discussion was about what naughty thing the boys had done that week while Briar was in town, working during the day and spending the nights at the boardinghouse.
“Nanny?”
But instead of Nanny’s old wizened face, a new, peculiar one peered out the door, making Briar stop short with the shock of it.
A stranger was in her house with the little ones.
“Welcome home, dearie.”
Chapter Three
Briar stared at the strange sight welcoming her into her own home. The diminutive woman had bright eyes, pink cheeks, and gave off an underlying current of energy like she was a tornado about to tear across the earth.
“Hello?” A knot began to form in Briar’s stomach. This was too soon. It was only May. Nanny said she had until her seventeenth birthday in July to find a new caretaker for the children. “Are you from the asylum? Where’s Nanny?”
“Oh, is that what you call her?” said the peculiar woman. “Will wonders ever cease? I never expected her to get sentimental. Miss Prudence had something to do an’ asked me to look in on the littles, since she might be gone a spell.”
“You’re not here to take the children?” Briar squeezed her fingertips nervously, waiting for the answer.
“Take the children? Goodness, no. They don’t trust me to bring up children.” The woman’s expression altered. “Oh, my. That came out wrong. The children are perfectly fine with me while Miss Prudence is gone. Never fear.” She held out her hands as if to stop Briar right then.
“How long is Nanny—Miss Prudence—going to be gone? A few hours?”
The woman’s face took on a look like the kind the boys gave when they were caught in mischief. “Perhaps. Maybe longer.” She cleared her throat. “A few days.”
“Will she be home when I come back again next Saturday?” Briar suddenly realized it was time to have a serious talk with Nanny about the children. There was no use pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.
“Could be…but not likely. It might take her some time.” She gave an awkward chuckle. “Not more than a few weeks, though.”
The knot inside Briar’s stomach tightened. A few weeks would bring Nanny’s return close to Briar’s birthday. Since Nanny was deliberate about everything she did, it was quite possible she was away making arrangements for the children without her. Briar chided herself for not speaking up earlier. She had avoided talking about their predicament for too long, and Nanny’s patience must have run out.
“What is she—?”
“I can’t tell you, so don’t ask,” the woman said, interrupting. “Biscuit?” She pulled a cookie from her pocket. “The children seem to love these.”
Briar relaxed, relieved the woman was kind and not there to take the children away from her. “No. Thank you. And you are?”
“Fanny!” she said with enthusiasm. “Come in, come in.”
Briar followed the lively woman into her house. “When I asked ‘who are you?’ I also meant how do you know Nanny—I mean, Miss Prudence?”
“Questions, questions.” Fanny waggled her finger at Briar. “You won’t be caught unawares if you remember to ask the questions.” She stood close to Briar and sized her up.
They met eye to eye, Briar being on the petite side herself. Fanny didn’t make much of an imposing figure. “Did Miss Prudence warn you the boys can be a handful?”
“Tut, tut. The children and I are going to have a grand time of it. Surely there is no place else I’d rather be than Sunset Valley.”
“Sunrise Valley,” Briar corrected, taking in the look of her one-room cottage. The curtain separating the sleeping area from the main living quarters was drawn back, and the two beds haphazardly made as if Nanny hadn’t supervised the chore. The table was set with earthenware plates, a pot of something—stew, by the delicious smell—bubbled on the stove, and…and complete silence. Briar’s heart skipped a beat.
“Where are the children?” she asked.
“Oh, I set them loose to catch supper.”