Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) by Melinda Leigh

The Night From Hell replayed in his mind. He’d tucked Carson into bed and walked the baby up and down the halls until two a.m., when a nightmare brought the little boy back, tearful and hiccupping. The dog had picked bedlam hour for a barking fit, too. The swing had become his savior. The instructions stated that babies weren’t supposed to sleep in the damned things, but these were desperate times.
    Grant closed his eyes. Another hour of sleep might dull the ache in his head.
    “Uncle Grant.” A tiny finger pried open his eyelid. “Are you awake?”
    Grant opened his other eye. “I am.”
    Carson dropped Grant’s eyelid and propped his chin on his hands, bony elbows in the center of Grant’s chest. His blue eyes were a scant three inches from Grant’s face. Hearing the boy’s voice, AnnaBelle jumped up from her bed in the corner, trotted to the sofa, and stuck her wet nose between their faces.
    “She has to go outside.” Carson squirmed off Grant’s body.
    A knee squashed his groin. “Oof.”
    Removing his nephew’s knee from his crushed privates, Grant eased upright. Carson ran to the back door and opened it. AnnaBelle bolted out into the yard.
    “She’s OK out there by herself?” Grant squinted out the window. Last night’s clouds were gone. In a brilliant, crystal-blue sky, sunshine slanted across four inches of fresh snow.
    “She’ll be right back.” Carson went to the refrigerator and took out a juice box. He brought it back to Grant. “Can you open this?”
    “Sure.” Grant shoved the straw through the hole and offered it to his nephew.
    “You hafta put the flaps up or else it’ll squirt all over.”
    “Gotcha. Flaps up.” Grant handed it back.
    Carson took a long pull from the skinny straw. “Am I going to school today?”
    Grant considered the exhausted eyes looking up at him. On his list of many phone calls was Carson’s elementary school. “Do you want to go to school today?”
    Carson shook his head.
    “Then you’ll stay home today.” Grant checked the baby. Still sleeping. “We’ll talk about that again in a few days, all right?”
    Carson nodded.
    “Waffles?” Grant heaved to his feet and stretched his back. He felt like he’d been on an all-night march. He needed coffee. Now. He shuffled into the kitchen and started the machine.
    Sunlight spilled through the back window. What time was it? He blinked at a clock on the wall. Ten a.m.
    Faith stirred, and Grant started a bottle. He’d already learned that a screaming fit before a feeding increased his chances of being firehosed with baby gak. In an exhausted blur, he fed the kids breakfast. No, wait. Brunch. Whatever.
    He mainlined coffee and cleaned up the kitchen. Before he had time to think about a shower, it was noon. The doorbell rang. AnnaBelle sprinted for the front of the house.
    “Maybe that’s Aunt Hannah.” Praying help had arrived, Grant rubbed his bleary eyes.
    Carson didn’t respond. Carrying the baby, Grant went to the front door. He peered through the sidelight. His sister stood on the porch. One hand rested on the handle of a spinner suitcase. A briefcase was slung from her shoulder. He opened the door wide. AnnaBelle surged forward.
    Breezing through the doorway, Hannah halted the dog with one raised hand and a command. “Off.”
    The dog’s tail stopped midwag, drooping to the floor.
    “Since when don’t you like dogs?” Grant leaned over to kiss Hannah on the cheek.
    From her pointy heels to the short cap of polished blond hair, his sister looked every inch the corporate attorney. She stopped in the foyer to slide her long black coat down her arms.
    “Since I traded your hand-me-down jeans for adult clothing.” She went to the closet and hung her coat. Her tall, thin frame was draped in a white cashmere sweater and pale gray slacks. Against the peeling green wallpaper, her Saks attire looked elegant and out of place.
    Hannah walked closer. Her heels clicked on the scratched parquet. A small,