Family Wanted

Isabella’s pulse had skittered when he said he had a question for her. The fact that he still hadn’t asked it made her wonder if he’d learned the truth. Did he know that she’d befriended Nan? And that she hadn’t been honest with any of them about her reason for showing up in Claremont? Was he going to ask her to stay away from him? Stay away from Savannah? Because she couldn’t think of a thing that would hurt her heart more.

“You want to ask me something?” she finally managed.

“Can we talk outside?” His voice seemed even deeper, full of emotion, and her skin prickled again.

God, please, let him forgive me.

Isabella followed him outside, her shoulders dropping and feet dragging in much the same manner as Savannah’s.

* * *

Fighting his attraction to Isabella was going to prove more difficult than he thought. Even now, with the way her green eyes studied him as he led her to the small table on the deck, Titus found himself wondering what those eyes looked like when she was blissfully happy. Maybe even what they looked like when she was in love.

He swallowed past that thought. He had no business thinking anything of the sort, and he’d get a grip on it right now. He’d just lost his wife, and he needed to concentrate on helping his daughter.

She took a seat across from him at the table but had barely sat down before she asked, “Are you okay? Did I—do something wrong?”

He should’ve realized she might think that, should’ve thought about her feelings, but it’d been three long years since he’d been around a woman enough to truly remember how sensitive their feelings are. Something else God had allowed: Titus had grown numb to observations of the opposite sex that should come naturally.

“I’m sorry,” he said, at least remembering that apologizing was always a good start to rectifying acting like a typical male. “You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you’ve been the most right thing about the past week. Savannah looks forward to getting here each day so she can spend time with you.”

“I’m glad for that.” Her soft smile, which did reach her eyes and happened to show him how pretty she was when she smiled, lifted his spirits and gave him the push to go forward with this conversation.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “Before I learned what had happened to Nan, you mentioned teaching her to swim. She hasn’t said anything else about it, but I think that’s because I’ve been...well... I haven’t been as approachable for her over the past few days. I’m sure she can sense that I’m dealing with a lot, because she finally asked me if she’d made me sad last night, and so I had to tell her the truth.” The memory of her question, delivered quietly before bed, stabbed his heart. His brooding had caused her to feel she’d done something wrong.

“She told us that her mommy went to heaven,” Isabella said, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she knew how sensitive this topic was for Titus.

He appreciated her even more for that. “Is that all she said?” he asked, wanting to know everything going on in his little girl’s mind after learning her mommy had died.

Isabella’s hands were folded, resting on the wooden table, and she looked at them instead of Titus. “She also said that you’re sad.”

He closed his eyes and considered praying but canned that idea. Chances were, he’d end up telling God how he really felt about all of this, and there wouldn’t be anything good to come from that. “Six years old and she’s lost her mom, yet she’s worried about me.”

Isabella looked at him again, her mouth lifting a little. “That’s what girls do.”

Another reminder that he’d become clueless when it came to females. For his daughter’s sake, he’d do his best to remember. “About the swimming...”

“I still want to teach her,” she said, and she sounded almost excited about the idea, which touched an even deeper spot in Titus’s heart. She really wanted to help Savannah. “When do you want to start?”

He wouldn’t wait any longer. “How about today?”

Chapter Four (#ulink_4d084b29-b300-5cfd-ad59-67241c336a5d)

I’ve met someone...

“Can I just go see Abi and her horse again?” Savannah’s eyes, as wide with fear as a spooked stallion, locked onto Isabella’s, probably to keep from looking at the water. It was the same look she’d given her the past three days each time Isabella entered the pool...and Savannah remained firmly on the concrete.

Though Isabella had worked with children who were afraid of the water in Atlanta, she’d never encountered a child as terrified as Savannah. And she’d never seen a parent so tormented by his daughter’s fear. Titus looked to Isabella and nodded, letting her know he agreed that they didn’t need to push his little girl. “Sure,” Isabella said. “But I’ll stay here by the pool, in case you change your mind.”

Savannah shot a wary glance toward the blue water and then turned toward Titus. “I’ll swim tomorrow,” she said quietly, identical to the way she’d made the statement the past three days.

He forced a smile. “Are you sure you want to try again tomorrow? We don’t have to come back if you don’t want to.”

And, like the other times, she nodded. “Yes, please.”

“All right then.” He handed her the pink T-shirt and shorts she’d worn over her swimsuit. She put them on and slipped her feet into her shoes before heading toward the pen near the barn where Abi Cutter currently rode her pony, Brownie.

Isabella knew there was no need to remain in the water. Savannah wouldn’t try again today. She fought the impulse to feel as discouraged as Titus looked, watching his daughter literally run away from her fear. “Maybe tomorrow will be better,” she said, as she started out of the pool.

He’d been sitting beneath a purple umbrella at a circular wrought iron table near the shallow end, where Isabella had attempted to coax Savannah in. He stood, picked up Isabella’s colorful striped beach towel from the table and held it toward her as she reached the edge. For the past two days, he’d sat nearby, smiling when appropriate, offering his frightened little girl encouraging words but obviously torn apart over her fear.

“Should I keep this up, Isabella? She says she wants to swim, but should I keep bringing her here? Putting her through this? And putting you through this, too?”

She accepted the towel and wrapped it around her as she prayed for God to give her the right words. She had so much admiration for Titus Jameson, and something else, too. A longing to comfort him, to see him happy again. Even now, standing so near to him, close enough that his woodsy scent tickled her senses, she wanted to offer him more than words. She wanted to hold him, tell him that she was sorry for what Nan had done and let him know that he didn’t have to go through this alone.

“You aren’t putting me through anything,” she said. “I’m here because I want to be here, and I do think Savannah will work her way through this eventually.”

Titus cleared his throat. “I read online last night that children aren’t inherently afraid of the water. It’s their life experiences and the attitudes of those around them that generate that fear. Savannah used to play in the kiddie pool at home all the time until she was three, so I’m afraid that Nan’s leaving has something to do with this fear. But she wants to conquer it, and I want to help.”

“I want to help her, too,” Isabella said. He had no idea how much. In fact, she wanted to be the kind of person to Savannah that she’d always wanted for herself growing up. Someone she could depend on. Someone she could trust.

“I can tell that you do, and I appreciate that more than you could know.” His shoulders lifted as he inhaled, and then he pointed toward the round table. “Do you have time to stay for a few minutes and talk while she’s visiting with Abi?” He paused. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about everything Savannah’s going through, and I’m thinking I’d benefit from a female perspective.”

“I’d hoped to be in the pool for at least an hour,” Isabella said, “so I have plenty of time.”

“Trust me, I’d hoped you would be, too.” He moved to the table and pulled out a chair for Isabella.

She couldn’t recall Richard ever pulling out her chair; however, she did remember a time he reprimanded a waiter for neglecting to do so. “Thank you,” she said, impressed with the gentlemanly gesture that came naturally to Titus.

The umbrella covering the table shaded his face, so she couldn’t be certain, but it appeared his cheeks tinged a fraction as he said rather stiltedly, “You’re welcome.”

Isabella situated herself on the metal chair, taking a moment to tuck the top end of her towel securely at her chest and making sure as much of her skin as possible was covered. Water still dripped from her hair, but the warm afternoon air, combined with the thick terry towel, kept her from being too chilled as she waited to see what he wanted to talk about.

They sat for a moment, and Isabella tried to be patient as she eagerly anticipated Titus asking her advice. But his attention seemed to bounce between the barn, where Savannah stood near the fence rail petting Brownie, and the mountains, where the orange sun blazed vibrantly, with an occasional—and very quick—glance at Isabella in between.

Finally, unwilling to wait any longer, she cleared her throat. “You wanted to ask me something?”

This time, she was certain his cheeks turned a shade darker before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. But it’s been three years since I’ve even had a conversation with a woman.” He shook his head, ran his hand through his hair.

Isabella watched as the dark strands fell messily around his chiseled face. He had such a strong presence, something that he didn’t appear to realize, which made him even more appealing.

“I mean, I’ve spoken to women, but nothing much beyond a hello, or about the details of whatever I was building for them.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile.

Isabella’s heart melted a little more toward this compelling man, and as she waited for his attention to land on her again, she gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I understand.” Then, to help him out, she said, “If it’s any consolation, I’m not used to a man wanting to hear my opinion about anything, so I may not be any more comfortable sitting here and answering your questions than you are sitting here and asking them.”

* * *