Family Wanted (Willow's Haven Book 1) (4 page)

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

I’ve met someone...

“C
an 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.”

* * *

Titus was so thrown by her statement that he forgot about being uncomfortable talking privately to a woman for the first time in three years. Isabella wasn’t used to a man wanting to hear her opinion? Why not? What man had made her feel her views weren’t worthy, and why hadn’t Titus considered what might be going on in
her
world? He hadn’t even thought about what had happened in her past to bring her here, to Claremont. She was such an intriguing, striking woman. Why would she have moved to a place this tiny? Was she trying to get away from the guy who didn’t appreciate her?

“Who made you think your opinions didn’t matter?”

She pushed a wet auburn lock of hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat. “I thought you wanted to ask me a question.”

“I just did.” Titus wasn’t backing down now. The thought of someone treating Isabella with anything less than the respect she deserved bothered him—a lot.

She pulled her towel tighter around her petite frame in an act that, whether she realized it or not, showed that she wanted protection. Titus could identify that now. He wondered how many clues that Isabella had been hurt he’d missed over the past two weeks.

“Did he hit you?” Titus asked.

Her grip on the towel tightened, eyes widened. “Oh, no. Never.”

He believed her, and he was glad she hadn’t been physically harmed, but he also knew that some guy hadn’t treated her all that great, either. “So who was it?” Titus had been nervous about talking with Isabella, but now that the conversation was focused on her and on how someone could have done anything to hurt her, he wasn’t nervous. On the contrary, he was engaged. And ready to make some man pay.

“My husband.”

For the second time in two weeks, Titus felt sucker punched. Isabella was married? Well, of course she was. A woman as beautiful as Isabella, as kind and caring, would naturally have a husband. His attention moved to the bare ring finger on her left hand.

She followed where he stared and said, “My ex-husband, I should say. Our divorce was final six months ago. He tried for ten years to make me into what he wanted, and I let him—” she lifted slender shoulders “—but then he decided that wasn’t enough.” Her green eyes studied him as she added, “But it’s okay. I’m happy now, getting a chance to start over. He started over, too.”

“He’s a fool.”

Her soft laugh broke the tension. She straightened in her chair, gathered her hair and draped it over her right shoulder. “Thank you for that, but you’d probably like him if you met him. Most people do. He’s a fairly popular guy, especially in his social circles.”

Titus hardly heard her statement. His focus had fallen on her hands, maneuvering the long auburn waves that now curled past her shoulder. He wondered if her hair was as soft, as silky, as it appeared. Even now, still damp from her time in the pool, the red-brown ringlets caused him to wonder how they would feel in his hands, against his cheek or brushing against his lips.

And he again reminded himself that he had no business thinking about her that way, and that he didn’t want to think of any woman that way—for a long, long time.

Her cheeks, he now noticed, had started to redden, and Titus realized with sudden clarity that he’d been caught staring and that he had no idea what she’d said. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t listening.”

She laughed again, and once more, he was drawn to the lyrical sound. “It doesn’t matter. But you wanted to ask me something? About Savannah?”

Titus instinctively glanced toward the barn and saw his daughter leaning over the fence rail to timidly touch Brownie’s nose. He got a grip on his infatuation with Isabella and refocused on the reason he’d asked her to talk. “I’m having a difficult time deciding what I can do to help her. I can’t tell you how many articles and blogs I’ve read about telling her that her mom was dead, but none of them seemed right. So I kept putting it off until she finally asked me why I was so sad.” He frowned. “I botched that one.”

She leaned forward, reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of his. “Titus, I thought it was perfect that you waited. And her question gave you the opportunity not only to answer her, but to also see how Nan’s death affected you.”

For some reason, it felt odd hearing Isabella say Nan’s name, but the touch of her hand comforted him to his very soul. He looked at her petite fingers and at the contrast of her creamy skin to his tan. Pale pink polish covered each nail and reminded him of another thing he’d forgotten.

“Savannah asked me to buy her fingernail polish,” he said. “Probably three weeks ago.”

“I have plenty of polish. I’ll bring some tomorrow, and I’ll paint her nails in the morning when I fix her hair.”

“That’d be great,” he said, still captured by the feel of her skin against his. Her thoughtfulness was never ending, as was her compassion for Savannah. And he believed she truly understood what Savannah was going through now, maybe even more than Titus. So he decided to ask her about what was bothering him most.

“The guy from the hospital who called last week to tell me about Nan...” he started. “He said that he found my name and number in some things she’d left behind, and that he would be boxing those up and mailing them to me soon. Of course, he thought I was her brother because apparently she’d given the hospital the impression that she was single.” He didn’t want to spend any time analyzing that with Isabella. “But maybe there are some keepsakes in there that she’d want her daughter—our daughter—to have.”

“Are you wondering whether you should give them to Savannah now or wait until she’s older?”

Titus shook his head. “No. I’m wondering if I want to even see what she left behind. I started to tell him not to bother mailing it.”

“Because...” she prompted.

“She left us, Isabella. Walked out, leaving nothing but a note. I hate it that she got sick, that she died without us even knowing that she was in the hospital. But for some reason, she didn’t want us to know. She didn’t want to see me again, even when she knew that she was dying.” He blew out a steady stream of air, closed his eyes and then opened them. “Don’t you think that going through those things will only pour salt in the wound? And I can’t imagine it doing anything but hurting Savannah.”

Isabella gently squeezed his hand. “Maybe there were things she wanted to tell you,” she offered. “Or things she wanted to tell Savannah.”

“She had three years to tell us anything she wanted.” He shook his head. “I’ll be honest. I don’t want to go through her possessions. I’m done with the pain, done with the hurt. And I’m tired of seeing Savannah hurting because of Nan.” He glanced at her hand, still resting on top of his. “So I wanted to ask someone who could look at this objectively, in particular a female, since I’m guessing you’d know more of what I should do for Savannah. Should I open that box when it comes?”

Isabella’s throat pulsed as she swallowed. “I don’t think I’m the one to answer that.”

“But I’m asking you, and I want your answer.”

“My answer is—” she let the word hang as she apparently considered the right thing to say “—that I think you should pray about it.”

Definitely not the answer he wanted. Titus pulled his hand from hers and stood. “That’s the thing. I’m done with that, too.”

Chapter Five

I didn’t know how to tell you the truth...

T
itus had just left his house and started toward Willow’s Haven when his cell began to ring. He knew who was on the other end before looking at the screen on the truck’s dashboard. Only one person called at 7:30 a.m.

Sure enough,
Mom
flashed back at him from the display.

He didn’t have more than fifteen minutes before he would lose his signal when he reached Brodie and Savvy’s property, but he didn’t expect the conversation to take that long either. What could she say that she hadn’t said before?

Glancing toward the backseat, he saw that Savannah was paying more attention to her doll than the ringing phone, but even so, he’d choose his words carefully, and he faded the sound to the front then turned the volume on the stereo system down to a minimum before answering. His parents had undoubtedly received the message he left for them last night, and now his mom wanted to try to make things better, the way moms do. Even though Titus would be thirty-one in a couple of months, she still wanted to fix things the way she had when he’d been Savannah’s age.

Problem was, there was no way to make this better. Even so, he prepared to listen to her try and clicked the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hello.”

“Oh, Titus,” she said, her voice filled with sympathy. “Your dad and I got your message this morning. We didn’t think to check the machine last night when we got home from church.”

Titus should’ve thought of that. It’d been Wednesday night. Naturally, they would’ve been at church. A few weeks ago, so would he and Savannah. “I forgot it was Wednesday.”

She inhaled, probably considering asking him why he hadn’t been at a midweek service, too, but then she must’ve thought better of the idea, because she instead said, “We are so sorry to hear about Nan. You said she’d been sick?”

Savannah had started singing to Bessie. Titus was glad she was preoccupied so he could have this conversation without her hearing his mother’s words.

“Kidney failure,” he said, keeping his voice low just in case Savannah wasn’t totally absorbed in the song. She knew that Nan was in heaven, and as far as Titus was concerned, that was plenty. She didn’t need to know the details.

“Oh, my. How long had she been sick?”

“At least a year.” The guy from the hospital had told him she’d been there for twelve months before she died. Titus had no idea where she’d been the two years before that, beyond working at the Y, and he assumed he’d never learn. All of his unanswered questions would remain unanswered, unless the package the hospital mailed held any insight into what had happened. And Titus still debated whether he wanted to see whatever was inside.

“Would you like for your father and I to come visit for a while?” she asked, obviously struggling with what to offer a son whose wife had abandoned him three years ago and then died without giving him or their daughter a chance to say goodbye.

Titus knew his parents would gladly make the six-hour drive from Orange Beach, on the southern border of the state, to stay with him, his father stepping in to help on the construction site and his mother cooking and taking care of Savannah. But eventually, they’d have to go home, and then he’d be hit with the reality of his life all over again. He’d just as soon deal with it head-on and get it over with. Plus, he didn’t want to snap at his mother the way he’d snapped at Isabella last night. Which was why he was arriving at Willow’s Haven a half hour earlier than usual. He wanted a chance to apologize first thing, as soon as she arrived and before the workday officially started. “I appreciate the offer, Mom, but we’re doing okay.”

“That’s Granna?” Savannah piped up from the backseat. “Can I talk?”

He smiled, glad that his little girl had some form of a mother figure to look up to and also glad she hadn’t been paying attention to the earlier portion of the conversation. “Savannah wants to talk to you, Mom.” He turned up the volume and listened as Savannah told his mother about what was going on in her world, starting with the item that hurt the most.

“Hey, Granna,” she said, “Mommy went to heaven.”

“I know, dear.”

Titus listened as his mom reminded Savannah about how heaven was a great place and that her mother would be happy there. He’d told her the same thing, as had Isabella and Savvy. He certainly hoped the knowledge gave her comfort.

“So, what are you doing today?” his mother asked, apparently to steer the conversation away from Nan.

“I’m going to work with Daddy, and Bessie’s going with me.”

“Is Bessie a friend of yours?”

Savannah released a little laugh. “No, she’s not real. She’s my doll.”

“Do you like going to work with Daddy?” his mother asked, and Titus suspected it was to make sure she shouldn’t drive up and save the day the way she’d offered. He held his breath and waited for his little girl to answer.

“Yes, ma’am. I like going to work with Daddy, because Miss Isabella helps me fix Bessie’s hair in the morning, so that her hair can be like mine. And then Miss Isabella fixes mine, too. Sometimes we do pigtails, but other times we do other things.” She leaned forward. “Daddy, what’s that thing Miss Isabella does, the fancy one I like?”

Titus was glad he remembered. “A French braid.”

“Yes, that’s it. Granna, it’s a French braid.”

Titus hadn’t heard Savannah chat this easily with anyone, even his mom, in a very long time, since Nan had gone. And he suspected the change had everything to do with the little chats that had gradually turned into longer talks each morning with Isabella. His gratitude for her appearance in Savannah’s life increased each time he realized what a profound impact she’d already had in her world. And he felt even worse about his abruptness with her yesterday afternoon. She’d only suggested that he pray to answer his problems. It wasn’t her fault that praying was the last thing he wanted to do.

As if his mother knew his train of thought, she continued, “Miss Isabella. I don’t think I’ve met her.”

Titus could almost hear the wheels of her mind churning, wondering how Isabella fit into their world. “Is she nice?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. She’s very nice. She’s going to teach me swimming, too, but right now I’m not so good.”

“You’ll get it, dear. Don’t you worry.”

Titus chanced another glance in the rearview mirror to look at his little girl, nodding her head.

“I’m going to try again today.”

“That’s wonderful. Well, let me tell your daddy goodbye, sweetie. Granna loves you.”

“I love you, too,” Savannah said. “Daddy, did you hear? She wants to talk to you.”

Titus dropped the volume again and asked Savannah, “Why don’t you sing that song again to Bessie?”

“The song about the monkey?” she asked.

“That’s the one,” he said, though it didn’t really matter what song she sang, as long as her attention wasn’t on his conversation with his mother, because he suspected that she had a new subject to conquer.

After Savannah started singing about a curious monkey, he said, “Mom, I’ll probably lose reception in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay, dear. But before you go, I want to ask you something.”

He could tell from her tone that this was going to be something that he might not want to hear. “Okay.”

“How old is this Miss Isabella?”

He swallowed. “I haven’t asked, but I’d guess late twenties.”

“Pretty?”

Very. But he wouldn’t walk into that trap. “Why do you ask?”

“So she is,” she said. “You know, it sounds as though this Miss Isabella person is filling a void in Savannah’s life.”

Titus had been thinking the same thing, which made him even more frustrated with the way he’d ended their conversation yesterday. “I agree.”

“I take it she’s someone you’ve recently met? I don’t recall anyone named Isabella when we’ve visited.”

His mother never forgot a name or a face. “She just came to Claremont,” he said, and he still wasn’t quite sure why Isabella Gray had selected this tiny town.

“Right.” She drew the word out, waited a beat and said what was on her mind, the way she always did. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to hear this. But maybe this Isabella could fill a void in your life, too.”

Titus was suddenly glad that he was within a mile of Willow’s Haven. He needed this conversation to end. “Mom, I just lost my—”

She cut him off. “No, Titus Elijah. You didn’t
just
lose your wife. She left you and our granddaughter three years ago. And I’ll be honest. Your father and I have been praying for someone to come into your life and bring you happiness again. You couldn’t pursue that before because you didn’t know what had happened to Nan and were still hopeful that she’d come back. And your daddy and I admire you for that. But you weren’t meant to be alone, Titus. And Savannah wasn’t meant to be without a mommy. It sounds like she’s really taken with the new lady in town.”

Titus turned onto the driveway leading to the trailer and was surprised that, of all times, his phone picked now to hold a signal longer than usual. “Yes, Mom, I think she is.”

“I’ve often wondered if, sometimes, God doesn’t use children to show us what’s what,” she said, and blissfully, her voice started breaking up.

“Mom, I’m losing the signal now. I’ll call you back soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said, “but I still want to talk about...”

The display blinked, and the signal was gone.

Titus heaved a big sigh, glad that the first uncomfortable conversation of the morning was over. Then he looked ahead to see that Isabella’s car wasn’t yet parked at the trailer. Good. That’d give him a little time to prepare for uncomfortable conversation number two.

* * *

After Titus’s brusque departure yesterday afternoon, Isabella didn’t expect him to want to speak to her this morning. In fact, she suspected that he’d probably bring Savannah early, before she arrived, so that he wouldn’t have to see Isabella before he started working. That’s what Richard would’ve done. If Isabella ever said or did anything that disappointed him, he’d ignore her until
she
ended up apologizing, often when she couldn’t even remember what she’d done to earn his disappointment.

So she was surprised when she neared the trailer to see that Titus
had
arrived early but hadn’t started working. And definitely wasn’t ignoring her. In fact, he lounged on the front steps, his elbows resting on the top step and his long legs, encased in well-worn jeans, stretched out in front of him as he watched her park her car.

The sleeves on his navy work shirt were rolled up, exposing tan forearms while also emphasizing sturdy biceps hidden beneath the fabric. A breeze played with his hair, and the morning sunlight seemed to showcase his eyes, lifting the flecks of gold from the brown and green.

Riveted by the image before her, Isabella forgot to put the car in Park and slammed her foot on the brake when it moved too close to the trailer. And, scarily, too close to the man sitting on the deck. She stopped mere inches away from Titus and knocked over a pile of firewood. Logs went rolling everywhere.

But Isabella wasn’t concerned about the wood. Have mercy, she could have hit Titus.

He’d jumped out of the way in the nick of time, and his wide eyes and tilted head said she’d probably caused a nice surge of adrenaline to kick in. Embarrassed, she shrugged and attempted to act as though she wasn’t sure how it happened. Truthfully, she knew exactly what happened. She was captivated, once again, by Nan’s husband.

She’d worked very hard throughout yesterday and last night to remind herself to think of Titus that way. As Nan’s. Because he obviously still had a hard time thinking of himself in any other light. Why else would he find it so difficult to open the box of her things that the hospital would send? He didn’t want their marriage to be over, even though he hadn’t seen her in three years. Even now, with the news that she’d passed on, he still felt committed to Nan. And Isabella understood. She’d loved Nan, too, and she still missed the friendship they shared, even if Nan hadn’t been completely honest.

But why was Titus apparently waiting for Isabella now, after he’d been so short with her when she’d suggested he pray for answers?

Only one way to find out.

Grabbing her purse, she climbed from the car and took a step toward him, but her heel caught on the hem of her skirt, and she ended up tripping forward almost as suddenly as her car had stopped. One hand still clutched the strap of her purse, and the other reached forward expecting to hit the ground. But everything came to a halt when she found herself in those strong arms she’d admired a moment ago.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a deep rumble as his woodsy, masculine scent once again teased her senses. “Are you okay?”

No
, her mind whispered,
I’m still falling, and I don’t want to fall for any man again, even you—especially you—you’re Nan’s ex
. But then she harnessed the truth and answered, “Yes, I’m okay. Just clumsy.” She reached forward to free her shoe from the skirt and noticed that he still held her, balancing her in case she did actually drop into a pile of mush at his feet. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she straightened and took the slight step necessary to reluctantly ease her way out of his embrace. “Thanks. I’m not sure what happened.”

“I’d guess you’ve got a rush of adrenaline causing a bit of shock,” he said smoothly, soothingly, as though
she
was the one who’d nearly been hit, and when Isabella raised her eyebrow at his quick assessment, he explained, “Happens to me every now and then, usually when I lose my footing on a roof, or when I drop a nail gun, or—” he grinned “—when I nearly get hit by a car.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” he said. “To tell you I’m sorry.”

Isabella took a wobbly step and realized that it wasn’t merely her skirt that had caused her loss of footing and that he was probably right. Her knees felt like jelly, as though she was suffering from that adrenaline rush he mentioned. But she wasn’t certain whether it’d come from the near miss of the car or the near proximity of the man.