Page 10 of Must Have Been Love

She shakes her head.

Okay then. I guess she’s been told not to speak to strangers, which is good. But it’s not going to help me figure out what the heck she’s doing here.

“Well shall we try to find them?” I ask, holding out my hand. The dog lets out a low warning growl. And the little girl pats his head like she’s calming him down.

Instead of taking my hand, she walks around me and the dog. Her faithful hound follows her as she heads behind the bar like she owns the place. It would be funny if it wasn’t so weird and I wasn’t scared that any minute her parents are going to run in and accuse me of child abduction.

“You can’t go behind there,” I say, because even if she won’t speak to me I know she can hear me. But she completely ignores my words, opening a drawer next to the refrigerator.

And she pulls out a coloring book and a box of half-stubbed crayons inside an old ice cream tub. The interior is covered with scribbles that the crayons have made as they’ve rested in the box. Her tiny lips are pressed together as she carries them back around the bar and reaches up to put them on the counter.

But she’s too short.

She tips her head and looks at me like I’m some kind of idiot then shoves them toward me.

“What?” I ask.

Her lips part and she lets out what looks like a sigh, then points at the bar counter.

“You want me to put these up there?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and nods at the same time. This kid has chutzpah. And for some reason I end up doing exactly as she asks. Once they’re safely on the counter, she pulls out a bar stool and climbs on it.

“Wait,” I say, realizing she’s planning on hanging out at the bar. “You can’t stay here.”

She lifts a brow. A weird memory flashes in my mind, like I’m trying to connect her expression to something but I don’t know what.

“Kid, you need to go.” Except I can’t throw her out. I let out a long sigh, then hold my hand out to her, planning to help her down from the stool.

The dog barks loudly.

“I’m trying to help here,” I mutter to him. “You should be thanking me, not barking at me.”

He tips his head to the side, his eyes not leaving my face.

“I’m friendly,” I tell him, holding up my hands. “See?”

Then I hold a hand out once more to the little girl. This time she takes it, and I smirk at the dog.

He doesn’t look amused.

“We’re going outside to look for a responsible adult,” I tell her. “Okay?” Because I’m anything but responsible. Nobody should put their child in my care.

She shrugs. Well okay then.

I don’t let go of her hand as we walk to the front door and I push it open, sunlight flooding into the bar. She’s wearing little sparkly sneakers, and they squeak against the wooden deck as we walk to the steps, the sound of steady dog paws behind us.

He nudges my ass with his nose, as if to remind me not to do anything funny.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I promise him.

There are no adults outside looking for a missing little girl. No sign of people at all. Apart from the guys working on the ferry which looks like it’s just about to leave for the mainland.

“Do you live around here?” I ask the little girl. “Or are you a visitor?”

She shrugs. Well that’s helpful. I look up the hill, at the building next to mine.Eileen’s By The Seais painted on a brown wooden sign affixed to the wall. The front door is open and a woman is kneeling on the stoop, scrubbing the front step.

“Hello?” I call out to the woman. She turns to look at me. Her hair is a steel gray color, tied into a severe bun. She’s wearing what looks like a housecoat, though it’s the first time I’ve actually seen one in the flesh.

---