Family Wanted (Willow's Haven Book 1) (10 page)

When she didn’t readily continue, he prodded, “But...”

“But Richard said he wanted me to get my education, so I did. I got the degree in business administration.” She decided not to tell Titus that Richard refused to let her use the degree to get a job.

“Okay, so that took four years. But you said y’all were together for ten. What happened after that?” he asked.

“After that, when I continued to ask about having a baby, he finally told me the truth. He said that he didn’t think I had the kind of background a woman needed to raise a child, since I never had a real mother and the women that had me in their homes weren’t anything like the type of mother figure he’d want raising his children. And he wouldn’t consider adoption, because he said that you didn’t know the physical or emotional genetic history of the child,” she said, remembering how terribly those words had stung. Growing up, she’d been one of those children praying to be adopted. “Those were a couple of the reasons, but the main reason...” She knew Titus wouldn’t like this.

“Go on.”

“Richard didn’t like the way women looked after childbirth. He said their bodies were never the same, and he didn’t want that for his wife.” Isabella almost didn’t add the rest, but she decided if she were telling Titus some of it, she might as well tell it all. “I told him I’d heard of some surgeons who could make certain I looked the same after the baby was born.” Tears threatened as she recalled begging her husband to let her have a child. She swallowed. “He said it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be the same. Then he said that he should be enough for me, that I didn’t need anyone else to love.”

Titus closed the lid on the box, even though he hadn’t finished his food, and placed it on the table beside his tea. “Your husband was a first-class idiot.”

Isabella didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it, and his bluntness caught her so off guard that she found herself laughing. Hard. “Titus, you—” she giggled “—you really shouldn’t say that.”

“Just speaking the truth,” he said, but the grin that now played with his mouth said he didn’t mind making her laugh.

Isabella didn’t mind it, either.

Savannah scurried onto the porch as if she thought she’d missed something. “What’re you laughing at?” she asked, but apparently just the sound of them laughing caused her to giggle, too, which made Isabella laugh even harder.

“Your daddy,” Isabella said, pointing to Titus while Savannah hurried to the swing and jumped into his lap.

“Are you being funny, Daddy?” she asked.

He kissed her cheek. “I guess I am.”

She smiled, as though that was perfectly fine in her book. Then she tilted her head and looked at Isabella. “Do you want to go see my dolls now? And maybe my swing set or my playhouse?”

Isabella placed a hand on her stomach as her laughter subsided. “I sure do.”

Savannah leaned away from Titus, scanned Isabella’s dress and frowned. “But you have on church clothes. How’re you going to play?”

Isabella brushed her hand down her skirt. The fabric looked dressy but was actually a cool cotton and very comfortable. “Don’t worry. I can play in this.”

“What about your shoes?” Savannah shook her head at the strappy red heels. They were higher than any other shoes Isabella owned, but they’d looked so pretty with the dress that she hadn’t been able to resist putting them on this morning.

She lifted a foot. “You’re right, I probably can’t play too well in these, but it’s okay. I’ll just slip them off.”

Savannah’s eyebrows shot up, and she turned toward Titus. “Daddy, can Miss Isabella take her shoes off?” she asked, completely serious. And absolutely adorable.

Isabella smiled as she awaited his answer.

He peeked at the offensive shoes. “I’m sure Miss Isabella will be careful where she steps.”

“I’d have been careful,” Savannah countered.

Titus squeezed her as he added, “
And
Miss Isabella is an adult, so I won’t tell her what she can and can’t do. You, however, are my daughter, so that happens to be part of my job.”

“I’ll be very careful,” Isabella promised Savannah, and she received the little girl’s nod of approval.

“All right then,” Savannah said, wiggling out of Titus’s embrace, “let me show you the dolls in my room first.” She hurried across the porch and opened the screen door.

“Okay,” Isabella said, but before she left the swing, she touched Titus’s hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me laugh,” she said. “And for not telling me what I can and can’t do.”

Chapter Ten

My heart has never been so torn.

A
s was often the case when Titus was engrossed in his work, the time passed at lightning speed and, before he’d taken another break, the sun started dipping toward the mountains. The primary difference with today’s workday and his usual workdays, however, was the woman who occasionally walked out to check on him, bring him a tall glass of iced water or sweet tea and offer an appreciative smile for his progress. Add the fact that his little girl joined Isabella for each visit, and Titus couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a better day.

Or worked so hard.

The rotted railings had all been replaced and primed. He hadn’t painted them yet, but he could knock that out tomorrow evening, after Savannah’s swim lesson. She must’ve reminded him six times that he’d promised she could start back at her lessons on Monday. It made him feel guilty that he hadn’t called Isabella yesterday and asked her to meet them at the pool for a weekend lesson, but yesterday, as he’d told Isabella before, had been rough.

Today, on the other hand, had been nothing short of amazing.

He swept the last of the sawdust off the porch and began putting away the excess wood and power tools, all the while glancing toward the house and speculating over what the two females were doing inside. He imagined them in Savannah’s room, either having a tea party with her dolls or playing a game of Candy Land or pretending to cook at her toy kitchen. Smiling at what he expected to find inside, he finished cleaning up and then headed through the back door.

The delicious smells filling the house told him they hadn’t been pretending to cook. They’d been all-out cooking. Entering the kitchen, he had to stop and admire the picturesque scene. Isabella, still wearing the bright yellow dress, faced the opposite direction so she couldn’t see his grin as he watched her help Savannah pour chocolate chips into a glass measuring cup. Her feet were still bare, which only added to the beauty of seeing her making herself at home in his kitchen.

Savannah’s hair looked wet but had been braided, and she wore her nightgown. She stood on the small stool she typically used to reach the sink in the bathroom. He’d purchased it to help her brush her teeth. Obviously, it was also the right size to reach the kitchen countertop for a cooking lesson.

“Can I taste it yet?” she asked.

Isabella touched Savannah’s nose. “Let’s wait until we’ve made the batter into cookies.”

“Daddy doesn’t let me have dessert until after dinner either,” Savannah said glumly. “But how about one chocolate chip?”

“I don’t see how one chocolate chip will hurt, or maybe three.” Isabella laughed as she placed the tiny chips in Savannah’s palm.

Savannah giggled and popped them in her mouth.

Isabella turned her attention back to the batter in the bowl. “And then we’ll spoon this on the cookie sheet, put it in the oven...”

“And go tell Daddy we made dinner!” Savannah cheered.

“Actually, he might already know,” Titus said, watching them turn around and then noticing that Isabella wasn’t as stain-free as she appeared from the back. The front of her dress had a nice dusting of flour that made this scene look even more real. Even more perfect.

“Daddy!” Savannah jumped off the stool and crossed the kitchen to leap into his arms. “What do you think? Miss Isabella said you’d like it if we made you a bunch of food after you worked all day. Do you like it? Guess what all we made!” She put her hands on each side of his face and placed her face directly in front of his. “Don’t look at the table.”

Titus purposefully turned his back to the table, where he’d already noticed several dishes in the center, and inhaled appreciatively. “Mmm, roast?”

Savannah bobbed her head while Isabella, smiling, spooned cookie batter onto the sheet. “And what else?” Savannah asked.

He took another whiff. “I’m guessing potatoes, and maybe some carrots?”

“You’re a good guesser,” she said. “And one more thing. It’s something that I don’t like.”

Isabella’s soft laugh trickled across the kitchen as she placed the last dollop of batter on the sheet and then slid it into the oven. “I thought you said you’d never tried it,” she reminded Savannah.

“I haven’t, but I know I’m not going to like it,” Savannah said.

Titus kissed her cheek. She was so adorable, and so undeniably happy. It’d been way too long. “Okay, I give up. What’s the thing that you think you don’t like?”

“Gravy,” Savannah said, crinkling her nose and turning her face to the side as though even the word made her cringe.

He loved homemade gravy. “Really? You made gravy?” His question was directed to Isabella, but Savannah answered.

“Yes, sir. And it took forever! I had to stir and stir and stir.” She lifted her right arm. “My hand is wore out.”

This time, Isabella’s laugh wasn’t so soft, and neither was Titus’s. “Well, I sure do appreciate you working so hard for me,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Savannah answered. “It’s ’cause I love you.”

His heart swelled. “I love you, too.”

“Guess what,” she said. “I already took my bath and washed my hair. And Miss Isabella did it so I can sleep with it like this—” she held up the braid “—and then in the morning, even you can fix it.”

Isabella had started setting the table, and she glanced up with a smile. “I don’t believe I said it quite like that. I said that it’d be something that you could do on the days when you aren’t going to see me the next morning.”

The comment reminded Titus that he didn’t like the mornings when he didn’t see her, and it also reminded him that he shouldn’t let himself get too used to this, having her around and filling the void that his mother had mentioned. He couldn’t deny Isabella had been good for Savannah and had helped her more already than the child psychologists had done in three years. But he also couldn’t deny that he wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship headfirst after his marriage had ended so badly.

A fact underscored by the box still sitting in his foyer.

He swallowed, determined to enjoy his daughter’s happiness and the fact that she and Isabella had spent their afternoon preparing this meal. So he touched Savannah’s braid and asked, “How do I fix it?”

“Tell him, Miss Isabella.”

Isabella continued putting the utensils on napkins beside the plates as she explained. “You braid her hair after it’s washed and towel dried, and leave it that way while she sleeps.”

“See, Daddy—easy, huh?”

“Seems that way,” he agreed. “And then in the morning?”

“Just undo the braid and finger comb it.” Isabella had finished at the table and started getting glasses from the cabinet. “You want sweet tea?”

“I do,” he said.

She poured two glasses of tea and placed them beside the plates. Savannah’s cup of milk already sat in front of her favorite purple plate, also at the table. “I think we’re ready to eat.”

“Yum,” Savannah said, releasing her hold on Titus and squirming out of his embrace to reach the floor and then get to the table. “Isn’t this great, Daddy?”

“Yes,” he said, “it is.” And he made a mental note not to get too used to it. Isabella had brought Savannah home and then stayed to help watch after her so he could work, something that probably most of his friends in Claremont would’ve done. He didn’t need to think anything more of it than that, and he shouldn’t feel guilty about enjoying this time with her so soon after Nan’s death. She was a friend, helping them out by cooking a meal. That was it.

Isabella motioned toward the three place settings. “I kind of invited myself to have dinner with y’all,” she said. “Is that okay?”

He pushed Savannah’s chair in so she could reach the table better and then took a step toward Isabella. Titus assumed his emotions had been obvious, if she’d have even considered that he might not want her to stay. After everything she’d done for him, everything she’d done for Savannah, he wouldn’t ask her to leave. Plus, he wasn’t ready for her to go. “More than okay,” he said. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He noticed her face had grown flushed, probably because he stood so near, but Titus didn’t back away. If Savannah wasn’t sitting nearby, he’d hold her, stroke his fingers down her cheeks and then tell her how much he appreciated everything she’d done for Savannah, everything she’d done for him. And he wasn’t merely talking about the meal. She’d brightened one of the darkest times of his life, and he’d be forever grateful. But since Savannah was nearby and watching them intently, Titus had to keep a tight hold on the temptation to convert this act of friendship into something more, into the type of thing he’d have shared with a wife. He maintained the hint of distance between them and simply said, “Okay, are we ready to eat?”

* * *

Throughout the dinner, Isabella listened to Savannah describe their day, from role-playing sessions with her dolls to rearranging the plastic furniture in the backyard playhouse to deciding what they would cook for dinner. And with each animated observation from the six-year-old, Isabella knew with certainty that she’d never been a part of a real family. Not at any point growing up. And certainly at no point during her marriage with Richard.

“And then I told Miss Isabella that we could make some chicken, but then we looked in the refrigerator, and we didn’t have any chicken there! We just had this...” She held up her fork with a bit of roast on the end. “So that’s what we made.”

Savannah listed every detail with complete accuracy and without a hint of exaggeration. Obviously, she’d been taught that it was important to tell the truth, and not merely a portion of it...like Isabella had done when she hadn’t told Titus the real reason she’d come to Claremont.

Throughout the day, as she spent time with Savannah and Titus and found how much she enjoyed being a small part of their world, she couldn’t stop the feeling of deceitfulness consuming her soul. It didn’t help that Brother Henry’s lesson this morning had been about Luke 16 and the parable of the dishonest manager. The preacher had expressed Christ’s value on honesty. Isabella knew Brother Henry couldn’t possibly know her situation, but even so, his lesson couldn’t have hit the mark any better. He hadn’t merely stepped on her toes—he’d smashed them. And she knew God meant for her to get the message.

She had to tell Titus the truth.

“Can Miss Isabella come, too?” Savannah’s question pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “come where?”

“To tuck me in for bed,” Savannah said. “You want to, don’t you?” She’d finished her cookies and milk while Isabella wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Isabella said, glancing at Titus, “if that’s okay with you.”

He flinched, only a subtle reaction, but Isabella didn’t miss his hesitation. Then he looked at Savannah and said, “I know it’d mean a lot to Savannah.”

Isabella suspected that this had been a nightly tradition performed with Nan before she left. She’d already spent the entire day with them; maybe tucking Savannah in would qualify as overstaying her welcome. But Savannah had already accepted her answer as a yes.

“I’ll go ahead and brush my teeth, so I’ll be ready for y’all to tuck me in,” she said, putting the last of her dishes in the sink and then hurrying up the stairs.

Isabella waited until she heard the water running in the upstairs bathroom, then said, “I probably shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” He shook his head and sighed. “If I don’t seem grateful, I’m sorry. I am. Really. It just surprised me when she asked you to help tuck her in.” He didn’t say anything else, but his tone told Isabella her suspicions were true.

“That was something y’all did as a family, wasn’t it? You, Nan and Savannah?”

“I don’t know why I even thought about it, after how long it’s been.” He glanced toward the front of the house. “I guess that box, and not knowing what’s in it, has my mind wondering about things. But it isn’t you. I think it’s great that Savannah is opening up to you, and if she wants you to help tuck her in, then that’s what I want, too.” He smiled, but it looked unnatural and strained.

“I’m not sure—”

“I’m ready!” Savannah yelled.

He pointed toward the set of stairs Savannah had taken from the kitchen. “Come on,” he said, his smile more genuine this time. “Ladies first.”

She didn’t know how to decline, so she started up the stairs with Titus following. At the top of the stairs, she noticed three rooms that branched off of this end of the hallway. She and Savannah had taken the front stairs each time they’d gone to Savannah’s room during the day, so she hadn’t yet seen this portion of the home. All three doors were open. The one on the left was obviously the master, with a huge four-poster canopied bed in its center and complementing antique dressers and nightstands. The floor, like the remainder of the house, was hardwood, and the ceiling was composed of hardwood planks, reminiscent of a church ceiling. The stained glass windows, intricately colored and patterned to resemble wisteria blooms, only added to the stunning uniqueness of the room.

Because of the angle of the door to the second room, she only viewed one wall, lined with boxes labeled Christmas Decorations, Thanksgiving Decorations, and so on. A large empty space in the middle matched the size of a box marked Fourth of July Decorations that sat in the center of the floor.

The third room was obviously the laundry room, with a washer, a dryer and an ironing board that currently held an assortment of folded clothes, some of Savannah’s and some of Titus’s. Another two baskets of clothes sat on the floor near the washer.

“You’ll have to forgive this part of the house,” he said. “I do well to keep the downstairs picked up and clean. This is the portion that often gets neglected.”

Isabella didn’t see it that way at all. “I think it looks fine,” she said honestly. In fact, if she and Savannah had wandered back here today, she’d have finished up the laundry for him and put the folded clothes away. She’d been impressed with how well the kitchen was stocked and organized, particularly for a single dad. Now she saw another glimpse into everything he’d had to do since Nan left. Laundry. Holiday decorating. Everything to keep his household running on his own.