Page 12 of Of Lies and Shadows

Sword in hand, expression fierce, eyes dancing as she squares off with him in mock battle.

“You’ll never take the treasure, Captain Alessio,” she declares in a terrible pirate accent.

“We’ll see about that, traitor!” Alessio shouts back, leaping forward.

And Lucia, sweet, quiet Lucia, is sitting on a blanket on the floor, giggling as she waves a little flag made from tissue and a pencil.

She’s part of the game. She’s playing. Sheneverdoes.

I watch, stunned.

Not just because they’re all laughing.

But because this woman,this stranger,walked into my house less than twenty-four hours ago… and somehow cracked open something I haven’t been able to reach in months.

I nudge the door open a little farther. It creaks, catching her attention.

She glances over, and in the split second her eyes meet mine, she loses her footing on the sofa and tumbles to the floor.

Instead of scrambling up in embarrassment, she starts laughing.

Not a nervous giggle, but real, breathless amusement.

Lucia giggles, too, hand clapped over her mouth like she’s not sure she’sallowedto laugh this freely.

I walk into the room, both loving and hating what I see. Loving that my daughter is smiling like that, open, easy, happy. And hating that the source of it isn’t me.

It’s her. This outsider. This woman I barely vetted. This woman who just waltzed into our lives.

I know I’m being unfair. Irrational, even. I’m the one who hired her. But still… she’s not here to become their friend.

“Good morning,” I say, formal and clipped.

She sits up, brushing her hair back from her face. The brightness in her eyes dims, replaced by wariness.

Smart girl.

“Good morning,” she replies. “I didn’t know you were home. Did we wake you?”

“You didn’t.” I turn to Lucia. “You didn’t come into my room last night.” I try to keep my voice light, but it’s rough around the edges. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

Lucia glances up at Alice, then back at me.

“Alice came into my room and helped with the monsters. I’m okay now.”

I look back at this woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, pretending to belong.

Monsters. That’s what Lucia calls her grief. Her fear. And Alice walked straight into that room and made it safe.

“Are you a specialist in monsters, Nanny Alice?” I ask, my tone a little too dry, a little too sharp.

“I’ve met my fair share.” It slips out before she can stop it.

And just like that, something in her face tightens. She regrets saying it. Good. That’s something I won’t forget.

“Have they had their breakfast?”

Alice glances toward Alessio, and her smile softens.

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