Ava whimpered, and Hannah immediately knelt beside her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”
Something twisted painfully in Jonathan’s chest. When had anyone last spoken to his daughter with that kind of tenderness? When had he?
He knocked softly. “What’s going on here?”
Claire pointed sharply at Hannah. “She’s crossing boundaries. She’s disrespecting me.”
Hannah stood, calm despite the accusation. “Mr. Reed, I only wanted to shield Ava from hurtful words.”
Jonathan’s gaze moved from his trembling daughter to Hannah’s composed stance, then to Claire’s rigid anger.
“Hannah, how long have you been working here?”
“Six months, sir.”
Six months. While he’d been flying from city to city, this quiet woman had become Ava’s anchor.
“Daddy,” Ava whispered, “Hannah helps me when you’re gone. She teaches me things. She reads to me.”
Jonathan’s throat tightened. He couldn’t remember the last bedtime story he’d read.
“Claire, come downstairs with me,” he said firmly. Then to Hannah, “Please stay with Ava.”
As he left the room, he heard Hannah softly say, “Want me to tell you about the butterflies in the garden?” Ava’s bright response followed him down the hall—and stayed with him.