Chapter 158: A raging storm

Gideon

"Uncle D! Uncle D, look! Look what I can do!"

I glanced up from bouncing little Eddie on my thigh to watch seven-year-old Benji stuff an entire pancake into his mouth and fold his arms in triumph.

"That," I murmured gravely, "is both impressive and a choking hazard. Chew your food, Benji,"

The dining hall exploded into giggles. Fourteen children were seated around the long wooden tables, all of them talking at once. Some had syrup on their elbows, and not one of them was looking at their plates. They were all looking at me, chattering nonstop.

"We got a pet goat! His name is Wookies,"

"I don’t like Wookies, he bites," Eddie mumbled, burying his face in my suit, smearing syrup all over it.

A good thing I had two spare suits in the car. It had been like this since I walked through the door at seven this morning. I just wanted to make a quick stop by the orphanage before going to work.

I had ordered their breakfast myself on the way over. Pancakes, scrambled eggs and a mountain of fruit.

Eddie began investigating my cufflinks while Pip on my left began playing with my fingers.

"Do the dimple, Uncle D!" someone demanded.

"I don’t know what you mean."

"The dimple, Uncle D!"

I sighed, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. The whole table screamed with delight. It was ridiculous but kids were allowed to be ridiculous.

This was what I came for anyway. For the first time in days, my head was quiet. The orphanage was the only place in the world where the noise stopped. Lately, my mind had been like a raging storm.

I hardly slept. I couldn’t even catch a wink, ridiculous. I had only slept with her in my arms twice, and now I couldn’t sleep at all. I was not eating properly. I kept catching myself halfway through a meeting, pen in hand, thinking about a flash of amber.

How could I admit, here, in a room full of syrup and noise, that I was worried. Damn it all to hell, I was worried.

Roman had defended her, yes. But I had watched the footage, more than once, in my study, chugging down beer.

Her ex-husband had dragged her by the hair across a plaza, the angle of her head, the way she had stumbled... Had she been to a doctor?

Has anyone checked her scalp? A hair pull like that could tear her skin. It could cause a concussion of its own, if she had struck the pavement.

My jaw tightened.

She is a liar, Gideon. A spy. You owe her nothing.

And yet I couldn’t stop worrying. Dammit all.

"Uncle D? You’re ’frowning’."

Eddie had given up on the cufflinks and was staring up at me with brown eyes, one chubby little hand pressed flat on my chest. I smoothed my brow leaning down to press my forehead against his.

"You’re gonna get the ’frown’ too!"

"No!" He shrieked in laughter, giggling as I rubbed my forehead against his.

"Aunt Ivy’s on TV!" Lily suddenly yelled pointing at the TV screen mounted on the wall in the dining room.

The children whirled around on their chairs immediately, chanting excitedly, "Aunt Ivy! Aunt Ivy!"

"Will she bring cookies next time?"

"She promised me ice cream last Saturday!"

"She brought the paints!"

"She did my hair!"

"She said she’d teach me chess!"

My chest squeezed so tightly. I fought the urge to glance at the TV, just to see her face.

Months ago, when I discovered that my housekeeper was pouring nearly every cent of her wages into an orphanage on the east side of the city, I was furious.

How could a woman like that, a woman without family or support , struggling to make ends meet, spend all her money on an orphanage. Heck I had told her she didn’t have to anymore and she had been offended.

How foolish I had been. Of course she could afford to care for them. The daughter of Felix Kingsley could have bought the building twice over at least. The whole housekeeper act had been exactly that, an act.

But the children hadn’t been. I saw the way she cared for them. Harper Kingsley was a liar, but at least she had not lied to them.

The orphanage matron came bustling in from the laundry room at the kid’s noise. "Oh, children, children, please, inside voices!"

"We wanna hear Miss Ivy talk on TV!"

Damn it all. My eyes riveted to the screen to see her standing before a massive group of reporters. A press conference? And it was live too.

The matron winced, glancing at me. "Mr Knight, I’m sorry about this."

"It’s all right," I adjusted Eddie against my shoulder. "You increase the volume."

The matron nodded, and reached for the remote. The sound crept up but all I could see was her.

Her eyes were sunken. Had she been crying?

She stood behind a bank of microphones outside the hospital. She looked perfect as usual, no one would have noticed how shaky she was.

Her hair was neatly pinned, her pink lipstick was perfect, but I had spent months watching that woman scrub my floors, laugh at her own jokes, bite her finger when she was nervous and I knew what she looked like when she was barely holding herself together.

Her fingers were trembling. They were pressed to the paper in front of her, and they shook slightly.

Why? What was she afraid of? Was someone threatening her? Was it that bastard...?

Calm down, Gideon.

"...want to thank everyone for their concern," she was saying, her voice utterly lifeless. "I am shaken but unharmed. My ex-husband, Angel Braddock, was injured... as was witnessed by people the day before. I’m here to tell you the truth about that man."

Her eyes flickered warily to the side. I couldn’t see whoever was standing there because the camera zoomed in on her. The next thing she said however had me stiffening in place.