Livia saw him, too, and stopped riding the balustrade. He came forward, the collar of his parka turned up, his footsteps silent on the stone porch floor.
Screw his judgment, Annie thought. At least she was trying to help Livia. What had he done, other than scare her?
Scamp was still on her arm, and she thrust the puppet forward. “Halt! Identify yourself!”
He halted. “Theo Harp. I live here.”
“So you say. Prove it.”
“Well . . . My initials are carved in the floor of the gazebo.”
His initials as well as his twin’s.
Scamp thrust her chin forward. “Are you good or bad, Mr. Theo Harp?”
One dark eyebrow shot toward his hairline, but he kept his focus on the puppet. “I try to be good, but it’s not always easy.”
“Do you eat your vegetables?”
“Everything except rutabaga.”
Scamp turned toward Livia and said in a stage whisper, “He doesn’t like rutabaga either.” Then back to Theo. “Do you take a bath without making a big fuss about it?”
“I take showers. I like ’em.”
“Do you run outside in your socks?”
“No.”
“Do you sneak candy when nobody’s looking?”
“Only peanut butter cups.”
“Your horse is scary.”
He glanced over at Livia. “That’s why kids need to stay out of the stable if I’m not there.”
“Do you ever yell?”
He returned his attention to Scamp. “I try not to. Unless the Sixers are losing.”
“Do you know how to comb your hair by yourself?”
“I do.”
“Do you bite your fingernails?”
“Absolutely not.”
Scamp took a deep breath, dropped her head, and lowered her voice. “Do you ever hit mommies?”
Theo didn’t blink. “Never. Absolutely never. Nobody should ever hit mommies.”
Scamp turned to Livia and cocked her head. “What do you think? Can he stay?”
Livia nodded agreeably—no hesitation, firm nod—and slipped down off the balustrade.
“Could I speak with Annie now?” Theo asked Scamp.
“I guess,” Scamp replied. “I’ll go make up songs in my head.”
“You do that.”
Annie returned Scamp to her backpack. She expected Livia to go inside, now that the puppet wasn’t part of the conversation, but instead she wandered along the porch and down the three front steps. Annie started to tell her to come back, but Livia didn’t stray. Instead she poked around in the frozen dirt next to the house.
Theo tilted his head toward the end of the porch, clearly indicating they needed a private conversation. Annie went over to him, still keeping her eye on Livia. He spoke quietly, so the child couldn’t hear. “How long has this been going on?”
“She and Scamp have been friends for a while, but I only started talking about her father a couple of days ago. And, no, I don’t know what I’m doing. And, yes, I realize I’m meddling with a problem that’s too complicated for someone who’s not a professional. Do you think I’m crazy?”
He considered. “She’s definitely not as skittish as she was. And she seems to like being around you.”
“She likes being around Scamp.”
“Scamp is the one who started talking to her about what she saw, right? It was Scamp, not you?”
Annie nodded.
“And she wants to be with Scamp?” he said.
“She seems to.”
He frowned. “How do you do it? I’m a grown man. I know damn well you’re the one who’s making that puppet talk, but I still look at the puppet.”
“I’m good at what I do.” She’d intended to be sarcastic, but it didn’t come out that way.
“Damn right you are.” He tilted his head toward the little girl. “I say keep going. If she’s had enough, she’ll let you know.”
His confidence made her feel better.
He turned to leave only to have Livia come scampering up the stairs after him. She’d brought something with her. Looking up at him, she opened her hands, showing him a couple of small rocks and some clamshells. He gazed down at her. She gazed back, her lips setting in their familiar mulish line. She extended her hands. He smiled and took what she’d given him, then rubbed the top of her head. “See you later, kiddo.” He disappeared down the cliff steps to the beach.
How odd. Livia was afraid of Theo, so why had she given him what she’d collected?
Rocks, clamshells . . .
Annie understood. Livia had given him her offerings because he was the one building her fairy house.
ANNIE WAS FINDING IT INCREASINGLY difficult to connect the Theo she remembered from the past with the man she now knew. She understood that people changed as they grew older, but his disturbing teenage behavior had seemed too deep rooted in psychosis to be easily fixed. He’d told her he’d had therapy. Apparently, it had worked, although he refused to talk about Regan and continued to shut down when the conversation got personal. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was still deeply troubled.