Hearts Awakening by Delia Parr Page A

the bed. She rocked him from side to side, cherishing the opportunity to hold him close and comfort him, just as her mother had always done for her. “Hush, now. Don’t cry, baby boy. All is well. There’s no harm done. All is well,” she crooned and blinked back tears of her own when he snuggled closer, just as he might have done with his own mother.
    When Ethan’s little body trembled against her, his tears dampening her bodice, she sighed and laid her head against his. She rocked him and rocked him, not only to comfort him but also herself, until his tears were exhausted and his body lay limp and very still, save for an occasional hiccough.
    Holding this little one close to her felt good and it felt right. She could not imagine feeling closer to a child of her own, and she tucked the memory away to cherish over and over again whenever doubts about her place in his life, as well as his father’s, nibbled at her faith.
    Despite the fact that she had much to do before Jackson and Daniel returned home, she continued holding and rocking little Ethan.When he finally began to stir, she patted his back and smiled. “Would you like to help me gather up everything that spilled on the floor now?”
    As if hearing her voice reminded him that the comfort he had received had come not from his mother, he wrenched free and clambered off her lap.
    His rejection cut deep as she studied his little face and form, and Ellie could not recall seeing a more forlorn little waif. His deep-set blue eyes and plump little cheeks were swollen and red from crying, his nose was running, and his oversized clothes were more disheveled than ever. Using a handkerchief from her pocket, she wiped his nose and dried his face. “There. That’s better, isn’t it?”
    His bottom lip quivered.
    Determined to distract him before he got even more distressed, which was bound to make Jackson question her ability to keep a three-year-old happy, she slipped to the floor and dropped down on all fours, despite the fact she was kneeling on a thick layer of dust. In an exaggerated move, she looked around the floor, saw most of her things had survived intact, lifted up the side of the quilt, and peered under the bed. “Oh, dear! However did my hairbrush end up all the way there under the middle of the bed, right next to one of those blocks you and your brother like to play with?”
    When he continued staring at her warily, she lay flat on the floor. She tried to slide forward, but stopped, even though the bed was high enough off the floor that she would have fit beneath it. “Mercy! I’m too big! I don’t fit. And I so wanted to use my hairbrush,” she whined.
    He sniffed but continued to stare at her.
    She worked her way into a sitting position and sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait for Daniel to come home and ask him to crawl under this bed to get my hairbrush for me, as well as that wooden block.”
    Finally!
    Ethan crawled under the bed, snatched her hairbrush, and carried it back to her before the echo of her words had died, along with the tiny block and a good bit of dust.
    She clapped her hands and grinned. “Ethan! What a dear boy you are. Thank you!” she exclaimed and put the brush into her pocket. After he stuck the block into his own pocket, he stood still while she brushed off the dust on his clothes and in his hair, tugged his shirt back into place, and tucked it back into his overalls. “Let’s see who can pick up the most of my other things,” she suggested.
    When he did not seem interested, she decided to make a game out of it and crawled around the floor on all fours—no easy task considering her skirts kept getting tangled between her legs. She had to stop more than once to sneeze and decided the first order of business tomorrow was to give this room a thorough cleaning.
    As she had hoped, he dropped down onto all fours, charged ahead of her, and snatched her change purse. He shook it and frowned when he heard the barest