Divided Hearts (7 page)

Hearing footsteps on the hardwood behind her, Faye glanced up to see Simon headed her way, a motionless toddler draped over his shoulder, her mop of dark hair obscuring most of her face.

“Poor thing.” Faye smoothed back Hannah’s hair to reveal a pair of slitted eyelids. “It’s way past her nap time.”

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Simon said. “You don’t need to wash up the dishes. Go back outside and enjoy yourself.”

“It’s no bother. I’ll take her to bed.”

As Faye reached for Hannah, Simon stepped back. “I’ll do it. She’s almost asleep as it is.”

“All right,” Faye agreed, but she followed him into the bedroom nonetheless; no doubt he could handle putting a child to bed, but she wasn’t sure Hannah would be comfortable enough to fall asleep without her there.

Setting the little girl gingerly on the mattress, Simon pulled the blanket up to her chest, tucking the edges carefully around her. She peered up sleepily at both of them, three chubby fingers jammed in her mouth, then rolled onto her side with a sharp sigh, blinking slowly before letting her eyelids fall closed.

Simon straightened, an expression of contentment lighting his features. “Piece of cake,” he whispered to Faye, his mouth curving into a warm smile.

“If only all of it were this easy.” As she smiled back at him, all at once the image of herself and Simon standing over the sleeping child crystallized in her mind as something more—the picture of a family, whole and complete—and the notion pressed on her heart in a way she would not have expected, stirring an unfamiliar yearning within her.

Keeping his voice soft, Simon bent closer to her ear, his warm breath stirring her hair. “I never thought I’d say anything this trite, but I’m already madly in love with this little girl. It almost feels as though she’s been a part of my life since she was born.”

“She seems fond of you as well.”

His smile broadened, her affirmation clearly pleasing him. “If only she could become as attached to me as she is to you. You’ve done a wonderful job with her, Faye.”

“Jenna as well,” she reminded him.

“I have to give her credit for that, at least,” he said evenly, adding, “Thank you again for bringing Hannah here. Despite your reservations.”

Faye opened her mouth to reply and then closed it, the touch of his hand on her bare elbow catching her off guard. Slowly, his fingers skimmed upward along her forearm, leaving a trail of fiery sensation on her skin before coming to rest on her shoulder.

“My pleasure,” she muttered at last, the words sounding husky in a suggestive way she didn’t intend.

“You look beautiful today,” Simon remarked, the smoky resonance of his voice matching Faye’s. His hand slid delicately across her collarbone to pause on the supple hollow of her neck, as it had when he fastened her necklace, but lingering longer this time. As his thumb traced the curve of her jaw, his gaze dropped to her mouth, his blue eyes strikingly intent. Under his fingertips her pulse throbbed fiercely, flooding her body with sudden, sweet desire. For an electrifying moment she was certain he meant to kiss her, and she let her lips part in invitation.

“Uncle Simon,” a small voice warbled from behind.

Startled, Faye spun around to see Sienna standing in the bedroom doorway.

Simon’s hand dropped abruptly to his side. “Shh, Hannah’s going to sleep.”

“But you have to come outside,” Sienna insisted, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I got your croquet set out of the shed. I want you to play with me.”

“Sure. Be right there.” Simon exchanged only a brief glance with Faye before joining his niece at the door. Faye lingered a moment longer, pressing her hands to her burning cheeks.

Sienna watched her shyly for a moment, before asking, “Do you want to play, too, Faye?”

Faye drew a deep breath to steady herself, offering a bright smile, though her insides still trembled. “All right. Let’s go.”

Chapter Five

Closing the door as Laurel and Sienna left the house, Simon turned to his mother and Faye with a weary but contented expression.

“That was a success, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think everyone had a good time,” Faye concurred.

Mary squeezed her son’s arm in assurance. “It was a perfect day. Don’t worry, Simon, your sister and niece adore your daughter, and she’s crazy about them as well.”

“I wasn’t worried about it,” Simon countered. “What’s not to love?” He glanced down at the little girl seated on the carpet, carefully peeling the clothes off one of her favourite dolls. Hannah herself was now wearing a more practical denim romper, her yellow dress having been spared from the perils of their spaghetti dinner.

“I can’t think of a thing not to love about this precious angel,” his mother replied, stroking Hannah’s hair as she walked past. “I suppose it’s time to tackle those dishes.”

Simon stopped her, grasping her elbow. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll take care of it, Mum. You get yourself a drink and relax.”

Mary smiled mildly, patting his hand. “All right then, I’ll make us all a pot of tea.”

“I should give Hannah a bath before bed,” Faye said, as Mary headed into the kitchen.

Simon nodded. “Did you enjoy the day?”

“Yes.” Faye’s gaze flickered downward, her mind flooded with the memory of their encounter by Hannah’s crib. Had it really happened the way she remembered it, or was it possible she’d imagined the heat in his gaze, or the longing in his touch? Would he really have kissed her, had Sienna not interrupted? And what if they had kissed? Things would be unbearable awkward between them now.

“I enjoyed meeting Laurel and Sienna,” she added.

His brows inched upward. “You looked nervous.”

“Did I? I suppose I was, a little. It’s an unusual situation, you must admit.”

“I’d prefer to call it extraordinary.” A grin lit his face. “And at the same time, it was a wonderfully ordinary, traditional Easter. I didn’t think to ask whether your family was upset you couldn’t be with them.”

“They might have thought about that years ago,” Faye said dryly, then thought better of dragging out her family drama at this moment. “Anyway, I probably would have spent the day with Jenna and her mother, under normal circumstances.”

“Do you like it here, Faye?” Simon asked, regarding her with curiosity.

“Very much.” She turned to gaze out toward the beach, where sunset was just beginning to blaze in bands of purple and pink across the water. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful.”

“Would you be willing stay a few more days?” he inquired carefully. “I feel as though Hannah’s just getting used to me, and it would be a shame if you took her back now.”

Faye looked at him, mildly alarmed by the prospect. “We really need to be back in Vancouver in case Jenna wakes up.”

Simon stepped forward, spreading his hands in entreaty. “The minute you get word that she’s awake, you can go home straight away. Please, Faye. Just a little more time with Hannah is all I’m asking.”

For a brief moment the notion entered Faye’s mind that he might be wishing for more time with
her
, as well. But she just as quickly shook off the idea.

“One more night is all I can promise right now,” she agreed uneasily.

Simon smiled. “Good enough. Well, I’d better get to those dishes.”

“And I’d better get this little one into the bath.” Faye bent to scoop Hannah into her arms, carrying her to the bathroom across from their bedroom.

As she ran water into the tub and undressed the toddler, Faye tried to focus on the routine task but could not quite manage to relax, her muscles taut with apprehension.
Another night under the same roof with Simon Blake
. She’d been fretting enough about getting through
this
night. But it would be fine, she told herself. Avoid ending up alone with a glass of wine by the fireplace, and nothing untoward was likely to happen.

“This is the way we wash our hair, wash our hair, wash our hair,” Faye sang, working the shampoo into a rich lather over Hannah’s scalp.

“Wush hair,” Hannah repeated, slinging a glob of suds in Faye’s direction. Watching the foamy blob splatter across Faye’s bangs, the little girl chortled gleefully, displaying both rows of her stubby white teeth.

“Silly girl,” Faye said, wiping off the suds. “Are you having fun with Daddy? I think you are. What will you do tomorrow, I wonder?”

Having expected to leave for home in the morning, Faye hadn’t given any thought to tomorrow’s activities until now. Though nervous tension still gripped her body, a current of anticipation ran through at the notion of seeing Simon’s face across the dinner table one more time, and hearing his smooth English tones. Despite her misgivings, a part of Faye was looking forward to another day at Halfmoon Bay, watching Hannah get to know her father. They were only beginning to form a bond. Surely the child would miss him when they left.

And you, Faye?

“Splash!” Hannah shouted, jarring Faye from her thoughts as she slapped the surface of the bathwater giddily.

“Let’s rinse you off now,” Faye said, dunking the washcloth in the water. “Time for a story and off to bed. For both of us.”

* * *

Faye cinched her robe around her waist, taking a moment to smooth down her chaotic tresses as Hannah beat her small palms against the bedroom door.

“I’m coming, hold your horses.”

“Ju,” Hannah declared urgently. “Ju ju ju.”

“Yes, you will get your juice. Even if it means I have to present myself with the worst bed-head I’ve had in years.”

Unsympathetic, Hannah reached for the doorknob and whined in consternation, unable to quite wrap her fingers around it.

“All right, let’s go.” Opening the door, Faye let the little girl dart ahead of her into the hallway, and followed close behind as Hannah made her way directly to the kitchen. After a day and a half here the child knew just where breakfast could be found.

They met both Simon and Mary in the kitchen, dressed and seated at the table, each with a mug of coffee. Faye felt suddenly conspicuous in her robe and slippers.

“Good morning, you two,” Simon said, offering a soft smile as Hannah scampered across the room, her bare feet pattering on the tiled floor.

“Morning,” Faye muttered, her pulse jumping erratically as his blue eyes met hers. “Have either of you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.” Mary began to rise from her chair. “I was about to scramble some eggs. Would you like some?”

“Yes, but let me do it,” Faye offered. “After all the cooking you did yesterday, I owe you at least one meal.”

Mary shook her head. “Don’t be silly.”

“I insist. How do omelets sound?”

Heeding the resolve in Faye’s tone, Mary relented, taking her seat again. “Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

Faye turned to Simon. “Same for you?”

“Sounds wonderful. Use whatever you see in the fridge.”

Relieved that both of them liked the sounds of the only breakfast she knew how to make, Faye opened the fridge and peered inside, finding eggs, milk, cheese and several mushrooms. She was cracking the eggs into a bowl when she heard a crash behind her; she turned to see Hannah standing by an open cupboard on the far side of the kitchen, hugging a box of crackers to her chest. On the floor a canister of coffee lay on its side, the contents spilled across the tiles.

Jumping up from his chair, Simon plucked the box from her grasp. “No crackers now, love. Breakfast is coming.”

Hannah stared up at him in surprise, her mouth drawing down into a deep frown. The lips trembled a moment and then parted, emitting an earsplitting shriek that made her father recoil visibly in alarm.

“She doesn’t tolerate hunger well,” Faye warned, catching a glimpse of flapping arms and stomping feet. “And her penchant for emptying cupboards is another matter.”

“This is just what you were like, Simon,” Mary noted, standing up. “Into everything, and not easily diverted from whatever caught your interest.” She moved quickly to a nearby closet to retrieve a broom and dustpan.

As quickly as she could, Faye grated some cheese and diced the mushrooms. Despite her urge to put the food aside and scoop up Hannah, she decided to let Simon deal with it. Initiation by fire was often the best way to learn.

“Come on, clear the way.” Hooking his hands under her armpits, Simon lifted Hannah to let his mother sweep under her; further affronted, the little girl howled and thrashed in his grasp, scissoring her feet in the air.

“Get her some juice,” Mary advised, raising her voice to be heard over the wailing. “That should keep her satisfied until breakfast is ready.”

Setting the bawling child back on the floor, Simon hurried to the fridge. Clearly agitated, he filled her sippy cup and handed it to her with lightning speed, but she only batted it away, before hurtling herself onto the floor, flailing and shrieking.

“She didn’t do this yesterday.” Simon turned to Faye with desperate eyes. “What am I doing wrong?”