Free Turned by Clare Revell

said. “She went to her room as soon as we got home. She didn’t even want milk and cookies.”
    “That’s not like her.” He looked at Vicky. “Can I do anything? Would you like me to read to you?”
    She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling and her eyes full of tears.
    “Not even Sophie’s Tea Party ?”
    She shook her head again, clinging to him tightly.
    He thought. “OK. Then how about we go and find the children’s Bible with the pictures in it. You can pick one of those.”
    His sweater felt damp now, and he knew from the way her whole body shook that she was crying. Dane bit his lip. His heart ached for her, filling and threatening to break.
    I wish there was something I could do, some way to get through to her, to make it better.
    He cradled her in his arms and stood, leaving his partly eaten dinner on the bench. “I’ll come back for that later.”
    “OK.”
    Dane carried Vicky from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. He set her on the bed and pulled the large Bible from the bookcase. It contained three hundred and sixty-five stories, one for every day of the year, especially illustrated for children. He and Jas had bought it for Vicky when she was a baby. Sitting next to her, he wrapped an arm around her. “Which one would you like?”
    Vicky shrugged.
    “Then how about I choose one?” He paused. “How about mummy’s favorite story? The lost sheep?” He flicked through the pages slowly until he found the story he was looking for. The picture showed a tiny little sheep, lost in a huge wilderness and caught in the brambles.
    Vicky leaned against him, running her finger over the picture, yawning, as he read. After a while, the movement stopped, and she leaned heavily against him.
    As he finished the story, he looked down. She was almost asleep, her thumb in her mouth. Closing the Bible, he set it to one side and began to pray.
    He began with the one Jas had taught both girls, gentle Jesus meek and mild, and then carried on from there, pouring out his heart. Tears filled his eyes and slowly ran down his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do. Had he done the wrong thing in employing Amy? Should he find another job, or just stay at home with the girls instead?
     
     
     
     

5
     
    Within a week, Amy felt settled and at home. Her first weekend hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared. Dane had taken them all to the local country park and they fed the animals in the petting zoo and the girls wore themselves out on the adventure playground. She’d loved church on Sunday. Everyone she spoke to was friendly, and the preaching was excellent. Her ID had arrived and sat nestled in her purse with her bus pass and library card.
    The routine was established with the girls and at least their clothes were ending up in the laundry baskets rather than the floor, even if the bedrooms still looked like a war zone most of the time. No, make that all of the time. Jodie’s floor had stayed clear for two days, but was now back to more or less normal, minus the clothes. Vicky was still coming into Amy’s room at two o’clock every morning and seemed more down than ever.
    Amy was determined find the problem and sort it, preferably without worrying Dane about it. Perhaps she could try the drawing communication with her that the teacher had mentioned the first afternoon. Having researched it on the internet, and seen it used on a TV cop show to good effect, it was definitely worth a go as Vicky liked drawing and was good at it.
    After school she sat Jodie and Vicky at the breakfast bar with lots of new pens and paper. “So,” she said pulling a sheet over to her. “We’re going to try something different tonight. Rather than me asking how your day was, and telling you what I did, we’re going to draw it.” She picked up a blue pen and drew a stick figure in a skirt doing the shopping, eating lunch, and cleaning. “That’s my day. Jodie, what about yours?”
    Jodie rolled her eyes and drew a desk with z’s