Huckleberry Summer by Jennifer Beckstrand Page A

too if she had herself for a babysitter.
    The oldest girl, probably eight, gathered the little one in her arms. “It’s okay, Amanda. Mamm will be home soon.”
    “You’re pretty,” the middle girl said.
    “Oh, uh, thank you.” Lily got on her knees to be at eye level with the children. “Tell me your names and how old you are.”
    The eldest bounced the small one on her hip. “I am Rose, and I am nine years old. This is Amanda. She is two and a half, and be careful because when she has to go to the bathroom, you have to take her fast or she will have an accident.”
    Lily didn’t let her smile fade. “Denki for the warning.”
    “I’m Evie,” said the middle girl. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a bob, like the other two girls’, and she had long, dark eyelashes that accentuated her expressive blue eyes. “I am almost five. My birthday is in one month.”
    “How nice,” Lily said. “I love birthdays.”
    Amanda kept fussing, and Rose handed her to Lily. Rose must have thought Lily would have better luck calming her down.
    If only she knew.
    Lily stood and started bobbing up and down and humming the song about the railroad that Felty always sang. Amanda seemed unimpressed. Her fussy whining gave way to distressed tears that looked like they were about to turn into full-fledged screaming.
    “You can give her some juice,” Rose said. “Sometimes she likes juice.”
    Instead, Lily trilled her tongue and made a high-pitched noise. Amanda stopped crying out of sheer surprise. Then Lily made loud popping noises with her mouth that sounded like water dripping into a sink—a trick that Estee’s boyfriend Floyd had taught her. Amanda giggled. Lily made the noise again. Amanda placed her little hands on Lily’s cheeks and studied her mouth. The other girls watched her with undisguised curiosity. Apparently, Lily was fascinating.
    Lily kept popping until Amanda forgot why she was crying. “Would you like a story?” she asked the toddler.
    Amanda stuck her finger in her mouth and nodded. Lily took Amanda to the sofa. She seemed to remember seeing a box of picture books tucked between the sofa and the small end table. The other girls followed, and one sat on each side of her. Rose pulled out her knitting.
    Lily reached into the box and found a book about a family of bears that lived in a tree house. She felt a little better. Telling stories was something Lily did well. She liked making all the different voices and giving excitement to the story by raising and lowering her voice.
    “Five little bears lived in a tree . . .”
    By the second book, Rose had abandoned her knitting and hooked her arm around Lily’s elbow as she listened to the story. Evie had managed to crawl onto Lily’s lap. Lily balanced Evie on one leg while Amanda sat on the other. The three little girls listened in rapt attention as Lily recounted the story of Little Red Riding Hood’s journey into the scary woods.
    “Grandma, what big eyes you have.”
    Aden came into the house.
    Lily’s heart did a small hop, and not just out of concern for the children. “Are the boys okay?”
    “Keep reading, Lily,” Evie said.
    Aden stood just inside the door, glued into place as if he had come into the house for no other reason than to stand there. “Jah, of course. The boys are fine.”
    Lily nodded as relief gave way to puzzlement. He was probably still out of sorts with her about what had happened between them two weeks ago. She really should apologize for hurting his feelings, but at the moment, three little girls surrounded her. “Anything else?”
    “You looked a little concerned earlier. I wanted to make sure you were getting along all right.”
    “Oh, thank you. I . . . I sometimes get anxious over nothing.”
    “Don’t feel bad—it’s only normal when you aren’t used to children.”
    “Lily, keep going,” Evie said in breathless anticipation.
    Lily trained her eyes on the open book and started reading. Aden stayed put.