Читать книгу A Father's Promise - Marta Perry - Страница 10

Leigh stopped at the end of the path the next morning, staring at the scene in front of her. Trumpet-shaped white and lavender flowers lifted their heads from fringes of beach grass. The sun gilded blue-gray water, and the beach stretched empty except for the occasional laughing gull. The receding tide left wet sand in a smooth layer of light toast.

The skeleton of Daniel’s building rose in a sea of beach grass and wild roses—two stories of bare timbers, awkward and raw looking, out of place in this little piece of Eden.

Sarah played contentedly on a blanket spread in the shadow of a pile of lumber next to the construction. She wrapped a baby doll carefully in a scrap of pink blanket, then tucked it into a doll cradle, crooning something Leigh couldn’t make out.

Leigh’s heart clenched. Only a few days, she reminded herself. This would last only a few days. She couldn’t become attached to Sarah.

Why was Sarah by herself? A movement caught her eye, and she realized several things at the same moment. Daniel worked, alone, on the second-story skeleton, and he watched Sarah as he did so. And, right now, he also watched her.

He stood, the movement taking him from shadow to sunlight, and her breath caught in her throat. He perched on what looked like an impossibly thin beam, balancing as effortlessly as a cougar on a tree limb. He was shirtless, and the slant of sunlight gilded skin and muscle as it did the ocean, making his flesh glow. Suddenly embarrassed to be caught staring, she raised her arm and waved.

Daniel nodded, put down his hammer and strode the length of the beam as easily as a gull skimming the water. He reached the end and swung himself down, sleek muscles moving under tanned skin.

She went toward him, sternly telling her breathing to get under control.

“I hope I’m not late.”

He shrugged.

“I have to start early.” His gesture took in the expanse of half-finished building. “Lots to do.”

“You’re doing it yourself?”

“One of the local contractors helps out when I need it.”

She’d already figured out that money was in short supply. So there was no crew of carpenters, just Daniel Gregory working alone on his dream.

“Sarah’s been fine down here, but you can take her to the house if you want.”

“Maybe we’ll stay here for a while. She might feel more comfortable near you at first.”

He nodded. “You need anything just ask Joe. He knows everything.”

Daniel’s gaze strayed back to his construction, as if pulling his attention from it was a hardship. As if a flesh-and-blood woman couldn’t compete with timber and nails. She squashed a wave of what might have been annoyance. She didn’t want Daniel to be interested in her. The next few days would be difficult enough without that complication.

“Sarah and I will be all right. You go back to work and don’t worry about her.”

He turned away, then turned back again with that rare smile lightening his serious, contained face. “I’m glad you came, Leigh.”

This was the moment to remind him that she’d agreed to watch Sarah only until he found someone else. Instead, she discovered that she was returning his smile, her gaze caught and held by his until he swung away from her.

She’d been right. That smile of his really should come with a warning label. Maybe its effect was intensified by its rarity.

She crossed the warm sand and dropped to her knees on the blanket next to Sarah.

“Hi, Sarah.” She signed as she spoke. “I’m Leigh. Remember me?”

Sarah’s dark eyes, so like her father’s, surveyed Leigh solemnly for a moment. Finally a smile touched the corner of her mouth, and she nodded.

“That’s a nice baby.” Leigh patted the pink wrapped bundle. “Does she have a name?”

Sarah’s mouth compressed in a firm line. She snatched the doll from the cradle, then carefully rewrapped it, fingers smoothing the blanket with care. Finally she replaced it in the cradle, crooning something unintelligible.

The message was clear. Don’t touch. Without Meggie’s ebullient presence, Sarah was going to be a tough nut to crack.

A half hour later, Leigh had revised her opinion. Not just tough. Nearly impossible. She sat back on her heels, exasperated, as Sarah repeated the routine with the baby doll for perhaps the tenth time. Leigh’s mind seethed with questions, and she wanted to snatch Daniel from his ladder and pepper him with them.

How much residual hearing did Sarah actually have? Had she been to school? If not, who’d been teaching her? And what on earth did this routine with the doll and cradle mean?

You don’t need to know that. You don’t have the right to answers. This is only temporary, remember? That’s what you want.

Well, temporary or not, she had to do her best. She clasped Sarah’s hand before the business with the doll could begin again.

“Come on, Sarah. Let’s go for a walk.”

Sarah drew back, hanging heavily on Leigh’s hand, looking at the doll.

“Daddy will watch the baby, okay? Daddy won’t let her get hurt.”

That seemed to do the trick. With a backward, reluctant look at the cradle, Sarah got to her feet. She let Leigh lead her away from the blanket.

They walked along the upper reaches of the sand, but when Leigh tried to take her down to the smooth, shimmering expanse left by the outgoing tide, Sarah balked.

“No!”

That word she verbalized well enough. Leigh suppressed a smile. Most children did if they talked at all.

“Why not?” Leigh persisted. “Meggie loves to play in the water. Don’t you?”

Sarah stared at the ocean for a moment, lower lip extended. Then her hands moved. “Cold,” she signed. “Too cold.”

Fair enough. The water, warmed by southern ocean currents, seemed comfortable to Leigh, but maybe Sarah did find it cold.

The ebbing tide had left a legacy, though…an oblong, sandy tidal pool, its water warmed by the sun until it was probably the temperature of bathwater.

“Look at this.” She led the reluctant child to the pool. “Look—a Sarah-sized pool.” She knelt, then scooped a handful of water and let it trickle through her fingers. “Warm.”

Sarah clasped her hands firmly, shaking her head. No one, it was clear, would convince her to put her hands in.

Leigh kicked off her sandals, sat down and dipped her toes in the warm pool. She’d always found that the best way to work with deaf children was to bombard their senses with experiences and words. She’d never taught on a beach before, but the principle had to be the same.

“Come on, Sarah,” she coaxed. “Try it. It feels good.”

It took fifteen minutes by Leigh’s watch—fifteen minutes of coaxing, teasing and patience—before Sarah pulled off her sandals and stuck a wary toe in the water. And then it took all of about fifteen seconds for her to be romping across the pool just as Meggie would, splashing the water so that both her shorts and Leigh’s were soaked.

Grinning with a mix of pleasure and triumph, Leigh trickled water on Sarah’s bare arm. It gained her a delighted giggle, the first she’d heard.

A shadow fell across them, shutting off the sun. “What on earth are you doing?” Daniel demanded.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Daniel realized how harsh they’d sounded. He couldn’t help it. For a split second, before his brain told him Sarah was safe, he’d panicked at the sight of her in the water. He took a breath. She was okay.

Leigh stood up to her knees in the pool, her shorts thoroughly splashed, her expression wary. Sunlight glinted from droplets of salt water on her bare golden arms. Her eyebrows lifted. “Is something wrong?”

He wasn’t going to get what he wanted by biting off her head. He made a conscious effort to soften his tone.

“Sarah hasn’t gone anywhere near the water since she’s been here. I think that’s best.”

Leigh glanced from him to Sarah, who was bent over, hands on knees, looking at something in the water. “Let me get this straight. You want her to be afraid?”

“Of course I don’t want her to be afraid!” For a moment he wished he were still dealing with a teenage baby-sitter. She might be careless, but at least she didn’t argue with him. “But the surf is dangerous, and Sarah’s not used to it. Besides, she’s…”

“She’s deaf,” Leigh said quietly.

Those sea-green eyes of hers bored right into his soul.

“She’s also a bright five-year-old who should be treated like one.”

He held on to his temper with an effort. “And I’m not treating her right?”

“Well…”

It was so easy to read her expression that the edge of his anger dissolved into amusement. That was exactly what she thought, but she was too polite to say so.

“All right.” He drove a hand through his hair. “You tell me. How do I keep her safe when she can’t hear a warning?”

“That’s one of the reasons she’s wearing a hearing aid. So she can make the most of the hearing she has. She can hear things like the beep of a car horn, the screech of brakes, a train whistle. She wouldn’t have an aid unless she has enough hearing for it to make a difference.”

He jerked his head toward the surf. “No car horns out there.”

“No, but she still has to learn.” She smiled suddenly, sunlight on water. “Jamie and I grew up in the country. I can still remember our mother, every time she took us for a walk in the woods, going over her rules. ‘Never put your hands or feet where your eyes can’t see.’”

He must have looked blank. The smile became a grin.

“Because of snakes,” she said. “Mom was deathly afraid of them, but she wouldn’t let that keep us from enjoying the woods. If Sarah’s going to live near the water, she has to learn safety precautions, just as a child in the Midwest learns what to do in case of a tornado.”

“But…” His argument disappeared at the sight of Sarah. She wasn’t romping across the pool now. She’d crawled out of the water, and she lifted her arms to him, her face clouding with tears.

He bent to pick her up, his throat tightening. “Honey, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

“She knew we were arguing.” Leigh’s lips tightened. “Kids don’t need to hear to know that. She knew you didn’t like her being in the water.”

He patted Sarah’s back, trying to hold on to his conviction that he was right about this. But he couldn’t.

“Okay.” He said it reluctantly. “You win. We’ll work out some way of teaching her what’s safe to do on the beach.”

She smiled, as if she’d known all along he’d agree. “Let’s get her back in the water again, then.”

“Joe will have lunch ready. We’d better go up. We can talk about it while we eat.”

Leigh’s mouth set. “We can’t walk away now.”

“Why not?” He tried to keep the exasperation from his tone. If she wasn’t the most stubborn woman in the world, she came close.

“Never end a session on a negative note. Right now, Sarah thinks the water is something to fear. She has to go back in again before we quit.”

For a moment he just stared at her. “You must have been quite a teacher.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that. Pain, maybe. He wondered again what was behind this determination of hers to leave teaching. He’d find out eventually, but now wasn’t the time. He sat down on the sand, plopped Sarah down next to him and began unlacing his work boots.

“What are you doing?” Apprehension colored her question, and he grinned.

“Coming in the water.” He pulled off boots and socks, then stood in the warm, shallow pool, letting the water lap his jeans to the knees. He held out his hand to Sarah. “Come on, sugar. Let’s splash Leigh, okay?”

Sarah hesitated, then scooted forward a little.

He coaxed his daughter back into the water, then watched as she ran to Leigh. Sarah’s solemn face crinkled into a smile he hadn’t seen often enough, and his breath caught.

He could give up on Leigh. Find some nice, grandmotherly type who wouldn’t do anything but sit on the porch and keep Sarah safe. But seeing Leigh with his daughter, he knew that wasn’t enough, not anymore. Somehow, he had to see that Leigh stayed with Sarah for the summer.

As for his totally unsuitable urge to run his hand along her sun-kissed cheek, well, he’d just deal with it. One thing he’d learned the hard way—he’d never give his heart to a woman again.

“More rice, ma’am?” Joe held the pottery bowl of rice and shrimp out to Leigh across the round kitchen table. She’d already suggested twice that he call her “Leigh,” but apparently it was going to be “ma’am” for a while.

“No, thanks. It was delicious.” She glanced at Sarah, who was stirring her remaining rice around on her plate. “Good, wasn’t it, Sarah?”

Leigh’d been signing throughout the meal, trying to draw Sarah into the conversation, but it had been futile. Daniel seemed uncomfortable with signing, and he used it haltingly only when he talked directly to Sarah.

She wasn’t going to be here long enough to change the way they interacted, she reminded herself.

You have to try, the voice of her conscience prompted. You have to try.

Daniel’s chair scraped. “Better get back to work.”

He started for the door; she got up, too, and followed him to the porch, which wrapped around the old house like a blanket.

“Daniel, may I have a word before you go?”

He glanced at the path to the construction, then seemed to force his gaze back to her. “What is it?”

Maybe this wasn’t a good time to broach the subject. He was impatient to get back to his precious hotel.

Coward, her conscience chided.

“It’s about signing.” She took a deep breath. He’d probably tell her it was none of her business, but she had to try. “I notice you don’t sign very much.”

His frown told her this wouldn’t go well. “I’m no expert, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, neither is Sarah, but she depends on it. When the people around a deaf child don’t sign constantly, the child is left out of so much.” She sounded as though she was giving a lecture, and his frown had deepened. “I don’t mean to criticize. I just think if you made an effort to sign more…”

He swung away, and for an instant she thought he was going to walk off without even answering her. Then he turned back, his face set.

“You want to know why I don’t sign very well I’ll tell you. My wife took Sarah and left when my daughter was a year old, went clear up to Baltimore to live with her folks. Since then I’ve seen my daughter twice a month, for visits that were too short. Sure, I took lessons, but I guess that just wasn’t enough to make me a pro at signing.”

Then he did walk away.

Leigh leaned against the porch railing, wishing she could erase the last few minutes. She should have guessed that something like that had been wrong, but she’d been so preoccupied with her own problems that she hadn’t thought it through.

Jamie probably knew some of this, but she hadn’t said anything. Not that Leigh had given her much chance. She’d been too busy resenting Jamie’s interference.

She bit her lip, looking down the path Daniel had taken. Should she go after him, apologize? Maybe that would make matters worse. Maybe she’d better just concentrate on Sarah for the time that was left. Because after the mess she’d made of that conversation, it was very unlikely that he’d be pressuring her to stay.

She turned and went back into the dining room. Joe poured another cup of coffee, his dark eyes wary and shuttered when he glanced toward her. He’d heard, of course. He couldn’t have helped it.

“I think it’s time Sarah showed me her room.” She held her hand out to Sarah. “Unless we can help you with the dishes.”

“No, ma’am. I don’t need help.”

And if he did need help, he wouldn’t want it from her; that was clear. Well, naturally he would be on Daniel’s side. But why did they have to choose sides? They all wanted what was best for Sarah.

It was almost time to leave, and what had she accomplished in her day? Leigh straightened the covers on Sarah’s bed and glanced around the room.

Someone had made an effort to create a room a little girl would like. The flowered wallpaper and white woodwork suited the white wicker furniture. The well-used child’s table and chairs looked like an afterthought, brought from someone’s attic.

The baby doll and cradle were no longer in the room. Sarah had carried them downstairs with her a few minutes ago when she went down for milk and cookies with Joe.

Leigh fluffed up the pillow, then turned to the table where she’d been trying to get Sarah to paint. One picture—that was all Sarah had done before she’d gone back to the baby doll. Leigh smiled, picking up the picture. Only one, but it was charming.

Daniel, recognizable by the dark hair and blue jeans, stood on the second story of the construction. He held a hammer. Above him, the blue sky was decorated with fat seagulls, their white wings spread wide.

“Still working?”

She turned at the voice. Daniel leaned against the door frame, looking at her with a half smile. Some thread of tension eased inside her. At least he wasn’t still angry.

“Just cleaning up.” She held out the picture. “Look at this.”

He took the paper, glanced at it, then looked at her, eyes startled. “Sarah did this?”

She smiled. “All by herself. I asked her to paint a picture of her family, and that’s what she came up with. Great, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen her paint. Or draw.” He touched the figure holding the hammer. “I didn’t even know we had paints.”

“You didn’t.” Sarah’s belongings consisted primarily of dolls, stuffed animals and toys suitable for a younger child. “I brought them.”

“I guess I should have thought of that.” He looked around the pink-and-white room. “Sarah’s aunt bought most of this stuff for her. I wasn’t sure what she’d like.”

She probably shouldn’t ask, but the question spilled out of her mouth anyway. “What about the doll and cradle?”

His expression grew wary. “What about it?”

“Did you buy it for her?”

“No.” His mouth tightened. “Her aunt Judith did, I think. Anyhow, Judith said it was important to Sarah.” His expression clearly said he didn’t intend to pursue the subject. “You liked your day with Sarah.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” She took the picture back from him and fastened it to the closet door, where Sarah could admire her work. “Of course I did.”

“Better than burgers and fried sweet potatoes?”

He was pressing her, and the only possible response was a light one. “I like fried sweet potatoes. Don’t you?”

He took a step closer. “To eat, not to serve.” He made an impatient gesture, as if sweeping away the burgers and sweet potatoes. “Sarah needs you. I want you to stay.”

She’d already given him every reason but the real one. “I…please don’t ask me again, Daniel. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” His dark eyes held hers, demanding an answer.

Anger flickered through her. This wasn’t fair. “Look, I have my reasons. You don’t have the right to push me for explanations.”

“You pushed me.”

She felt the heat flood her cheeks. She’d pressed him for answers, for explanations he’d been clearly reluctant to give. And now she expected him to coddle her tender feelings. Obviously he wasn’t going to.

“I’m sorry for that.”

He shook his head in a swift, determined motion. “You did it because you care about Sarah. Now I want answers for the same reason.”

The mixture of pain and love in his dark eyes undid her. The moment when she could have walked away was gone. She knew both of them too well already. She turned from that gaze and moved to stare out the white-curtained window at sea and sky.

“I let you believe I quit teaching.” It took an effort to keep her voice steady. “That’s not quite true. I was fired.”

“Why?”

His neutral tone surprised her. She’d expected…well, shock, at least.

She took a deep breath. “I taught at a private school…small classes, lots of time to give individual attention. There was one child, Tommy.” Her heart hurt when she thought of Tommy, of how she’d failed him. “He was going through a bad time, his parents splitting up.” Too late she remembered that Daniel’s wife had left him.

“The kid was caught in the middle.”

She nodded. “I tried to help. The father seemed more approachable, so I talked to him, looked for ways we could help Tommy deal with it. Tommy had been making such progress up to then, really coming out of his shell. I didn’t want to see him slip back.”

She rubbed her arms, cold in spite of the heat of the day. Daniel stood perfectly still behind her, and she didn’t want to see his expression.

“Then it all blew up in my face. The mother found out I’d met with her husband. She accused me of interfering, of improper conduct—” She stopped, flushing at the memory of the horrendous scenes. “She threatened to sue me and the school.”

“So they fired you.”

She nodded. “It was the only way out for them. The publicity alone could have damaged the school. She finally agreed to drop the suit if they got rid of me. So they did.”

“What does that have to do with Sarah?”

For a moment she froze, sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Then she swung toward him.

“Don’t you understand? The lawsuit, the adults—that’s not important. What’s important is the child! I failed Tommy. My bad judgment, my stupid pride, thinking I had all the answers…and Tommy was the one who suffered for it.”

“What happened to him?”

Leigh had to swallow her tears at the memory. “He retreated into himself. He stopped trying. And it was because I failed him.”

She forced herself to look at Daniel. His strong face was a mask, giving away nothing. Then he turned. Walked away.

She took a ragged breath, trying to hold the guilt at bay. She’d finally convinced him she wasn’t a fit person to care for his child. He wouldn’t be bothering her about that anymore.

She heard his footsteps cross the hall, then he was coming back. He thrust something into her hands…a photograph in a heart-shaped frame.

“Look at that.” His fingers were strong on hers. “That’s Sarah a few days before she and her mother left.”

She looked. Daniel, holding a chubby baby with dark hair. Love shone from a face that was more open than she’d seen since she met him.

“You don’t have a monopoly on failure, Leigh.” His voice gentled. “Believe me, I know all about it.”

He obviously felt the breakdown of his marriage was his fault. She didn’t know how to respond to that, but he didn’t seem to expect her to.

“The only question for me is whether you’ll be good for Sarah. And I know the answer to that.”

She blinked back treacherous tears. Daniel, knowing her past and still wanting her to stay, didn’t remove the main obstacle, not for her.

If she stayed, if she spent the summer with Sarah, it would hurt so much to leave. But maybe, in a way, it would atone for failing Tommy. How could she stay? How could she not?

“I’ll sweeten the pot.” Daniel’s lips curved in that undermining smile. “If you stay, I’ll let you teach me signing.”

“You’ll…”

He put his hands on hers, sending warmth along her skin. “Show me. Show me how to sign, Will you stay?”

Stubborn. Determined to get his own way. Too quick to find her own weak spots. She could foresee one battle after another over his plans for Sarah. She should run as fast as she could in the other direction.

She showed him.

“Will you stay?” he asked, signing. “Will you teach me?”

That just might be the most dangerous thing of all, she thought. She signed the words. “I’ll stay.”