My Darling Caroline by Adele Ashworth

married before, I believe I was truthful in my answer that morning.”
    She scoffed. “I hardly think so. You evaded the question purposely and craftily, and I’m certain I looked the fool in front of Nedda and Davis.”
    He ran his fingers through his hair and casually sat back. “Neither Nedda nor Davis thinks you’re anything of the kind, and I know they both thought I was unfair in keeping this from you. They like you very much.”
    She braced herself. “Are there any more?”
    “Any more what?”
    “Children,” she nearly shouted in frustration.
    “No,” was his smooth reply. “But I intend to change that situation soon.”
    She peeked out at him from the corner of her eye. “Are you sure?”
    He smiled faintly. “Absolutely. On both counts.”
    She could think of no solid retort to effectively counter his brash innuendos, and after a moment she turned to regard the small clock on the mantel with keen interest, mesmerized by the swinging pendulum in front of her.
    “I care about my daughter more than you can imagine, Caroline,” he professed quietly. “She’s part of me and in many ways, even with her unfocused mind, she’s very like me. I hope that over time, you’ll grow to care for her as well.”
    She couldn’t think about that. She didn’t want to care for any of them enough to give her heartache when she finally had to leave for America. So, pushing that from her mind, she realized this was her opportunity to move on and discuss the problem at hand.
    “I’ve had some thoughts about Rosalyn, Brent,” she said with forced confidence.
    He expelled a long breath. “I’m anxious to hear them.”
    Caroline turned to look him squarely in the eye. “Is she trained?”
    His eyes narrowed. “Trained to do what? She’s not a dog, Caroline.”
    “Of course she’s not a dog.” Her cheeks flushed. “I mean, is she trained to relieve herself properly or does she need to be changed?”
    He showed surprise at her question, but not embarrassment. “She can generally take care of her own needs. Why do you ask?”
    Caroline became serious, pausing to gather her thoughts. Her assumptions about her new daughter were becoming clearer.
    Dauntlessly she said, “It seems to me that a four-year-old child who can take care of her own private needs, manipulate an adult by moving her possessions from one room to another, be cunning enough to purposely hide my shoes in the blue room—”
    “She hid your shoes in the blue room?” he asked through a small, almost prideful laugh.
    She looked up sharply. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying, Brent.”
    He sobered a little. “Then what exactly are you saying?”
    Quickly she blurted, “That I don’t think she’s all that sick in the mind.”
    He was decidedly unimpressed. “Caroline, I’m her father—”
    “A child who can think ahead, plan her actions, and manipulate an adult is rational,” she interjected with newfound strength. “She has a rational mind, and causing trouble is the only way she can think of to get attention.”
    “You’re implying she hid your shoes and tore your books to get your attention?”
    “No,” she stated firmly. “I think she did those things to get your attention.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Caroline. If she were rational she wouldn’t cause me grief. Your theory doesn’t make any sense.”
    “It makes perfect sense if you consider that she’s a typical little girl who hasn’t seen her beloved papa in a very long time, and when he does return for her he has taken a wife. Now suddenly she has to share the one person she loves the most with someone else.”
    She watched him lean forward and place his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. He looked more than skeptical, which in turn made her almost fierce in her attempt to convince him. Bravely, standing directly in front of him, she forced him to look up to her. He would see reason.
    “Brent,” she slowly began, “has