He studied his window, as well as the strip of grass that stretched between it and the fence. There was nothing to indicate someone or something had approached last night. Again he wondered if he had dreamt it all, but he stayed at the window, unable to ignore his disconcerted musings.

“Frae? Has someone ever knocked on your bedroom shutters before? In the middle of the night?”

Frae stopped walking. “No. Why?” And then she gasped and rushed to say, “Oh! I’m so sorry to have taken your room! I hope you aren’t angry with me!”

Jack blinked, surprised. “I’m not angry at all, Frae. I don’t need a room anymore, to be honest.”

Her copper brows quirked as she began to fiddle with the ends of her braids. “But why? Don’t you want to remain here with us?”

Why did her inquiry meet him like a spear? He suddenly didn’t want to disappoint her, and Jack had never cared about such things before.

“I don’t mind sharing a room with Mum,” she added, as if that would convince him to stay. “Truly.”

“Well . . . I do have to return to my school,” he said, watching her hopeful expression fall. “But I’ll be here all summer.”

The promise spilled from his mouth before he could think better of it. Before he could remind himself that a part of him still hoped to leave by the end of the week. He couldn’t break his word now, not when he had given it to Frae.

Summer was a long time in a child’s mind. Frae grinned and bent down to pick a few violets from the grass. Jack watched as her dainty fingers traced the petals, pollen smearing like gold on her skin.

“I found some wildflowers on my bed last night,” Jack said. “Did you pick them for me, Frae?”

She nodded, her dimples flaring in her cheeks again.

“Thank you. It was a thoughtful gift.”

“I can show you where I picked them!” she cried, and he was shocked when she reached for his hand, as if she had held it countless times before. “It’s this way, Jack. I know where all the best flowers grow.”

She tugged on his arm, completely unaware that a piece of him had melted.

“Wait a moment, Frae,” he said, kneeling before her so their gazes would align. “Will you promise me something?”

She nodded, her trust like a knife in his side.

“This will probably never happen, but if you ever hear the shutters rattle like something is trying to open them, knocking on them, promise me that you will not answer it,” Jack said. “You will wake Mum and stay with her.”

“Or I could come wake you, right, Jack?”