CHAPTER 13
“Am I going to haveto clean up like this after every meal?” Mason grumbled, sweeping under the table.
Harper held back a laugh, though she couldn’t seem to stop a grin. “Probably. Children, especially little ones, are definitely not easy on the cleaning bill.” She’d kept her word and stopped by two days after the festival on the pretense of helping him clean the house and work through any other issues he was having. As far as excuses went, it was pathetically flimsy, but even Harper’s career-determined side hadn’t cared. She just wanted to spend more time with the duo who held her heart, even if the feeling wasn’t returned quite the same way.
Mason snorted and bent over to sweep the excess of eggs and other crumbs into the dust pan. “Now I get why you said I need a dog.”
“They do help,” Harper offered. “I had a dog all my growing up years.”
“Why don’t you have one now?” Mason asked, though his attention was still on his work.
Harper tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, wondering how vulnerable to get. They were friends, but not necessarily confidantes. Though, he did share everything with you. This isn’t that big of a deal by comparison.
“I always figured I’d wait until I wasn't single to get a dog,” Harper said. She shrugged and grinned. “Don’t want the pooch to get tired of seeing my face.”
Mason paused, his eyes growing intense for just a split second, before he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll bet pets are easier when there are more people involved.”
“You didn’t ever have a pet?” Harper asked, grateful he hadn’t pressed her single issue, or acted weird that she brought it up. Sometimes guys seemed to have funny ideas about that kind of thing.
Mason shook his head and set the broom and dustpan back in the closet. “No. Mom didn’t want the mess.” He paused. “Huh. I guess Aimee was right.” He snorted. “I was kind of offended when she said I was the most like Mom, but now I’m starting to see it.” He pushed a hand through his hair.
“From what you’ve said, I don’t think you’re like her at all,” Harper argued. “She sounds a little...difficult.” Harper shrugged. “You’re pretty easy to get along with.”
Mason gave her a half grin. “Thanks for that.” He looked around. “Now what?”
“Layla isn’t dressed yet.”
Mason grimaced. “We’ve sort of worked that one out, but it’s ridiculous how long it takes.”
Harper laughed and walked toward the sitting room where Layla was playing with several Tupperware containers. They were the only “toys” that Mason had. “Let’s get this party started.” She took Layla by the hand. “Let’s get dressed. Okay?’
Layla happily tripped along beside Harper toward her bedroom.
“So...” Harper paused. “Her clothes?”
Mason’s cheeks turned red and he pointed to a suitcase.
Nodding, and choosing not to point out the fact that he needed to get her a dresser, Harper rifled through the pile. “Looks like today is laundry day.”
“At the rate she gets dirty, every day might be laundry day,” Mason muttered.
Harper just smiled. He was just as cute when cranky as he was when being sweet, though she’d take that thought to her grave. She pulled out a couple of pants and shirts. This was probably a good time to try and get Layla to speak. Turning, Harper held up two shirts. “Do you want to wear the pink shirt? Or the purple one?”
Layla pushed her hair out of her face and pointed to the pink.
“A pink girl, huh?” Harper helped unzip the pajamas and Layla sat down, kicking her legs. “Whoa, there.” Harper wrestled with the child a little until she was undressed. “Arms up!” Making silly faces, Harper wrangled the shirt onto the small body, snapping the buttons under her diaper. “Now. Pants.” Harper grabbed two pairs. “Do you want the pink ones? Or the yellow ones?” To her surprise, Layla picked the yellow. This was going to be an eyesore. “Awesome. Pink and yellow.”
She turned Layla around, setting the girl on her lap, and Harper helped get the small legs into the openings. “Stand up!” With a final pull, Harped pulled the pants over the diaper. She bit back a smile at the thought of Mason handling potty training sometime during the next year. That’s going to be fun.
“All done!” Harper threw up her hands and clapped.
Layla also clapped, but still didn’t speak.
“How much should a two year old talk?” Mason asked. “And is it just the guy in me, or does her outfit look hideous?”
Harper stood and laughed. “It’s pretty sad. But does it really matter? She picked it out, and wanted to wear it, and who’s she going to see anyway?”
Mason shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No one, I guess, except me and you.”
“And I think we can handle it,” Harper assured him. “Letting her feel like she’s in control will help her cooperate.”
“So no more tantrums?”
“Oh, there’ll be tantrums. But this at least can lessen some of them.”
“And the talking?” He bent down to pick up Layla, who was holding out her arms to him.
Harper pursed her lips. “I’m not sure. My gut instinct is to give it time. She’s had just as much upheaval as you but isn’t as mature. I’m hoping she shut down because she just lost her mother. But only time will tell.”
Mason went pale. “And if it doesn’t change?”
Harper shrugged. “You need to get her in with a pediatrician anyway. The doctor should have better suggestions.”
Mason nodded. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come to help.”
Harper patted his shoulder as she left the room. “What are friends for?” She was starting to hate that word. Sweet Layla was tugging at Harper’s heartstrings and every time Mason learned how to do something new, it made Harper fall just a little bit more for him. She had only spent a few days with this makeshift family, but Harper already knew that if given the chance, she could love this whole household without even trying.
She rubbed her forehead. It was going to take a miracle for her to walk out of this situation with her heart still intact.
“Bring Layla out here and we’ll see if she’ll play with something,” Harper called. “Then we can talk about the rest of the equipment you’re still missing.”
Heavy footsteps behind her told Harper that Mason was following her directions. Poor guy. He was trying so hard. Why his sister thought she could simply dump a child in his lap and all would go smoothly was something Harper couldn't comprehend.
No one plans to dump a child,her inner voice scolded. There’s no way Aimee ever thought this kind of thing would happen. Layla’s just lucky her mother thought to have a will at all. Otherwise, prickly Granny would be turning the little girl into a perfect little princess and there'd be no pink and yellow outfits at all.
Harper had to give it to the voice in the back of her brain. Sometimes it impressed even her.
“Where can I find a sheet of paper?” Harper asked.
“My desk is in the third bedroom,” Mason offered.
Leaving him with the baby, Harper walked down the hall to retrieve the supplies she needed. Mason would enjoy this part. Lists and structure were right up his alley and Harper knew having something to refer to would help get him back on his feet...without her...and once she got some distance, the pain in her chest would subside...eventually.
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