His First Choice

Reminding him, as it did, that everyone was human.

And no one’s life was perfect.

* * *

“DO I SCARE YOU, Levi?” The minute the little boy had realized that she was going to stay with him in the playroom—and that his father wasn’t going to be there—Levi had begun to shrink in on himself.

There was no other way for her to describe the reaction. His shoulders hunched slightly as he kept his cast close to his stomach. “No. ’Course not,” the little boy said, that softened r grabbing at her.

It was okay for her to care about the children. They could never have too much love. Or so she’d told herself on those times when the professional boundaries she had to keep didn’t quite diminish those occasional heart tugs.

“You want to put this together with me?” The twenty-five-piece teddy bear puzzle was probably too easy for him, judging not only by what Mara, his preschool teacher, had relayed about him, but by the activities she’d observed in his room the night before.

She sat on the floor with him while he worked silently on the puzzle by himself, putting each piece in place without hesitation.

When he’d finished, she handed him another equally easy puzzle. She wanted his concentration.

“I need the box,” he said.

“What box?”

“For the other puzzle.” T

hat r again. He was pointing to the teddy bear puzzle he’d just completed. She’d expected him to leave that and do the second one. Instead, he cleaned up the first one before moving to the next. “Miss Mara says you have to pick up one before you can bring out a other,” he told her.

“You do a lot of puzzles at school?”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, not looking up from his task.

“Where’d you learn to do them so well, then?”

“Daddy and I got lots of ’em.”

“What about your mommy—does she do puzzles with you, too?”

“Uh-uh.”

Lacey had stopped to see Tressa Bridges on her way to work that morning, but there’d been no answer at the door. Such was sometimes the case when you made unannounced house calls.

He was turning a piece around the wrong way. She wanted to help him, but got the distinct feeling that he didn’t want her to.

“Where were you when you fell and broke your arm?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you know, silly,” she teased. “You were there at the time, weren’t you?”

She was grinning at him. And earned herself a confused frown as well as a quick glance from those striking blue eyes. Then a shrug.

“Well, your arm didn’t run away from your body, did it?” she asked, her tone playful.

“Noooo.” He giggled and put the piece he’d been struggling with in place.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened. You aren’t going to be in any trouble. I just want to know.”

“I fell.” Another piece slid into place. His upper torso was bent completely over the puzzle.

“From where?”