Free Barbara's Plea by Stacy Eaton, Dominque Agnew Page B

scanned the dark area behind her. I looked back to her neck, but her hair had fallen back into place.
    I closed the door after the women had entered. Barbie had her back to me and, peeking through the glossy blond hair, was the sweetest cherub face I had ever seen. I smiled at her, and she buried her eyes into her mom’s neck.
    “Now, what’s going on, and what happened to your face?” Gloria demanded as she held Barbie’s cheeks and turned her face back and forth. “Who the hell did this to you?”
    “It’s nothing,” she said softly and tried to pull her face away.
    “Over my dead body, it’s nothing! Who did this to you? You tell me right now, and I’ll have the son of a bitch locked up for good.”
    “Gigi, no, you can’t,” she rushed forth, and the little girl began to cry. Barbie rubbed her daughter’s back, “Look, I need to feed Allie and get her in bed; it’s been a long day.”
    “For both of you, obviously,” Gloria commented dryly.
    “Yes, for both of us,” she admitted.
    “Fine, Grey can take you back to the kitchen. Amelia should be in there and can help you get something for her to eat. I assume she is your daughter?” Gloria looked at her pointedly.
    “Yes, Allie Marie. She is your great-granddaughter.”
    Gloria shook her head, “Fine. I will have them make up a room for you two while you get her fed.” Gloria turned around, shook her head, and mumbled about always being the last to know anything in her family.
    Barbie watched her walk up the steps and heaved a heavy sigh.
    I spoke to Barbie, “Come on,” and she jumped at my voice. “I’ll take you back to the kitchen.”
    She nodded and followed without saying anything.
    “So how old is Allie?” I asked to try to get her to relax. She was like a scared kitten ready to dart off under a chair.
    “She is almost sixteen months. Who did you say you were again?”
    “My name is Grey. I live in the apartment out back. I’m doing some work for your grandmother.”
    “Oh, that’s nice,” she said quietly.
    We found the kitchen empty. “Why don’t you have a seat, I can get something for her to eat.”
    “That’s not necessary. I can do it.” She started to walk past me, and I stepped in front of her.
    “Barbie, it is quite obvious that you are a total mess, and exhausted. Have a seat and let me get you both something to eat.”
    She stared up at me. She must have been about five feet four as she had to lift her chin to see into my face. At this angle and with the bright lights of the kitchen, I could see for the first time what Gloria had seen.
    Under her makeup, shadows crossed the right side of her face. Her nose looked a bit swollen, and her bottom lip appeared to be healing from a split. Anger simmered in my soul. Who the hell would possibly have laid a hand on a woman like this?
    “Barb,” she said softly as she kept eye contact. My fingers itched to skim over her skin.
    I looked at her questioningly.
    “Barb, I go by Barb, not Barbie.”
    “Have a seat, Barb, let me get you something to eat.” I turned away from her before I pulled her into my arms. My whole protective instinct was going haywire at her pained expression and hidden bruises.
    “We had lasagna tonight, can Allie eat that? Or should I find something lighter for her?” I pulled open the fridge, watching her as she pulled out a chair and sat down with her daughter leaning back against her chest. The bright green eyes of the child watched me intently.
    “Lasagna will be fine, just a small plate. We can share,” she answered.
    I pulled the lasagna out and took a plate from the cupboard. I kept my attention on my task, all the while feeling her eyes on my every move. She didn’t say anything while I worked, and it wasn’t until I set the warmed food in front of her with a fork and napkin that she opened her mouth.
    “That was very nice of you. I could have done that myself.” Allie reached for the food immediately and snatched a piece off the