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She nodded.
“And that’s you?” he asked, indicating the smaller figure with dark hair down her back.
Another nod.
“And that says...” He hesitated, pointing to the letters across the top—MY FAMLE.
“My family,” Savannah said softly.
He tenderly brought his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “That’s a nice picture,” he said, his heart breaking at the lonely image on the page.
She didn’t smile but moved her head against his shoulder in agreement.
Titus suspected Savvy knew how the drawing affected him and—he glanced at Isabella again and saw that she looked as sad as he felt—it seemed Isabella also understood. How, he didn’t know, but the concern was evident on her face.
Titus wanted to talk to her, to find out why she seemed to care so much and also to determine why, when they’d barely met, he was drawn to her more than any woman in the past three years.
It’d been a long time, but Titus knew this feeling, remembered it well. Had missed it but also felt guilty having it.
Attraction.
* * *
Isabella watched the touching interaction between father and daughter and finally got the chance to see Savannah’s face, the younger face of her dear friend, and she knew she couldn’t go through with her promise.
How could she tell this man everything Nan had said about him and then also tell him that she’d never muttered a single word about their little girl? A little girl who reminded Isabella so much of herself at that age. Lost. Confused. Abandoned by someone who should’ve stayed, who should’ve loved forever.
Isabella barely contained her tears as she watched Titus and Savannah leave. But she held it together. She had to. Because while she may have come here to tell Titus what Nan had said, she had a different reason for being here now.
That little girl needed help. And Isabella knew how she felt, probably more than anyone else.
After they left the trailer, she said to Savvy, “I’m interested in the position.” And, she silently added, I want to help the little girl Nan left behind.
* * *
After telling Savvy she wanted to apply for the job yesterday afternoon, Isabella had promised to bring her résumé by today and then she’d driven through Claremont, as tiny as Brodie Evans had depicted. A town square centered everything and seemed to be the place to go last night, with lots of people shopping and visiting, children playing around the fountain, elderly couples chatting on wrought iron benches.
She’d needed something to cheer her up after leaving Willow’s Haven. Although she’d decided God had sent her here to help with the child home and Savannah, she’d still been so brokenhearted and confused.
Nan hadn’t told her everything, and Isabella couldn’t figure out why. How had her friend left that precious little girl behind? Or that man, a hard worker and such a sweet daddy? And, have mercy, undeniably breathtaking, too. Nan certainly never told her that. Isabella hadn’t been able to get the images of him off her mind.
Titus, all muscled and impressive, reminding her how it felt to experience instant attraction for a man. Titus, dropping to one knee to talk to his sensitive little girl. And Titus, looking at Isabella as though he could see into her heart, as though he might actually understand the pain of her past.
She thought of his daughter, Nan’s daughter. Savannah had looked as forlorn as Isabella had been at that age. Nan had known how much that hurt Isabella, not having a mom around. Isabella had told her. She’d confessed everything about her childhood. She’d thought Nan was the first true friend she’d ever had and that they’d shared everything.
Isabella had. Why hadn’t Nan? If Isabella had known that Savannah was here, she’d have made Nan get in touch with Titus so Savannah could have seen her mom one more time.
Last night, she had seen so many children with their parents on the square. True depictions of family. And she’d thought of Savannah’s drawing, the two figures so alone in the center of a plain white page.
“Nan, what were you thinking?” she asked, driving toward the child home.
She’d prayed for guidance before she started this journey, and when she’d ended up at the charming Claremont Bed-and-Breakfast on Main Street last night, she hadn’t questioned that God directed her path. She’d take the job at the child home, assuming Savvy offered it, and if everything went as well as she expected, she’d move her things from Atlanta in a month or so. She didn’t want to be too hasty in her decision to relocate, but in her heart she already knew that this was where she should be.
Within fifteen minutes, she knocked on the door of the trailer with her résumé in hand. She’d awakened before dawn and spent over an hour searching the internet for résumé guidelines and then generating her first one. And she felt very good about the business administration degree listed under the Education heading. Richard had enrolled her in the University of Georgia as soon as they’d returned from their honeymoon, saying that his colleagues wouldn’t understand if his wife didn’t have a proper education.
She’d been so eager to please him that she hadn’t objected, because she assumed she’d be able to use the degree to obtain a job. However, Richard only wanted her to be educated—he didn’t want her to use the education. A wife who worked meant her husband wasn’t successful enough to support them on his own. And he wouldn’t have any part of that.
Isabella knocked again, but no one answered. Then she heard a vehicle coming up the driveway and turned to see Titus Jameson arriving in the same navy pickup she’d seen yesterday. She held up her hand in a wave, and he did the same, parking the truck next to her car. Nan had been a stunning lady; Isabella should’ve known she’d have been married to an equally gorgeous man.
But...wow.
He climbed out and opened the door of his extended cab so Savannah could exit.
Isabella watched them, her heart skittering in her chest at the sight of him in the green work shirt, blue jeans and boots. He’d looked good yesterday when he was soaked with sweat, but he looked incredible all cleaned up and ready for a new day, too.
“Nobody there?” he asked, as he and Savannah neared.
“I guess not,” Isabella said.
“Probably running some errands.”
Isabella nodded. “I can wait.” Then she looked at Savannah, clutching a doll in one hand and a small pink bag in the other. Isabella placed the résumé on a deck table by the door and put her purse on top of it to keep it in place. Then she sat on the top step to talk to the little girl. “What do you have there?”
She looked at her daddy, and he touched her back. “Go ahead and tell her what you’ve got.”
Isabella patted the spot beside her and was pleased when Savannah sat down. “This is Bessie. She’s gonna play with Rose and Daisy’s dolls.”
“That sounds like fun,” Isabella said. “I like her brown hair. It’s like yours, isn’t it?”
Savannah frowned. “I want mine like Rose and Daisy’s,” she said, “but I can’t do it, and Daddy can’t, either.”
Isabella then noticed that the underside of Savannah’s hair looked matted. She apparently had made the effort to create a ponytail, and it had ended badly. “Would you like for me to try to do it?”
Savannah looked from Isabella to her daddy. “Daddy said Miss Savvy could,” she said. “Do you know how?”
“I think so.”
Savannah handed over the pink bag, her small fingers gently brushing Isabella’s palm with the action. “This is what Daddy bought for my hair. It’s got a brush in it.” She unzipped the bag and withdrew a pink plastic brush. “You unfold it like this and then you brush with it.” She popped the pink brush out and locked it into place, then handed it to Isabella.
“Okay. Why don’t you sit here in front of me, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Savannah’s mouth lifted in a subtle smile, and she glanced at her father before turning and sitting on the step in front of Isabella. “Sometimes it hurts when Daddy does it, and I cry.”
He frowned and shrugged. “That’s true.”
Isabella was touched by the relationship before her, a daddy so concerned for his little girl. What would it have been like to have had a parent care that much?
“Well, let’s see if I can manage not to make you cry today.” She thought about the statement and then added, “Not that your daddy did anything wrong, but I’ve had a little more practice.” She glanced in the pink bag and saw a teeny hairbrush at the bottom. “Look, there’s a little brush for your doll.” She fished it out and then handed it to Savannah. “Why don’t you brush her hair while I brush yours?”
* * *
Isabella was obviously a natural with children, and it touched Titus immensely that his little girl already seemed to be warming to her.
Savannah rubbed her hand down her doll’s hair as Isabella gently drew the brush through the top layer of Savannah’s long brown hair. Then she lifted that layer and flinched at the mess. Apparently, Titus flinched in reflex, and Savannah noticed.
“Did I make it too bad?” She twisted around to look pleadingly at Isabella. “Can you not do it now?”
“No, I can do it,” Isabella said. “I’ll just take my time.” Then she tenderly worked her fingers into the knot to loosen it before she tackled it with the brush. “Do you go to school yet?” she asked, obviously still trying to get Savannah’s attention on something besides her tangled hair.
“Not now. Now it’s summer,” Savannah said softly.
Titus watched as Isabella eased her fingers through, the knot appearing to give a little with her effort. “That’s right. How could I forget that? But before it was summer, did you go to school?”
Savannah nodded, which must have caused her hair to pull, because tiny tears crested the bottom of her eyes and trickled free. “Ow.”
Titus flinched again. He couldn’t help it.
Isabella couldn’t see Savannah’s face, but she saw his and leaned forward to spot Savannah’s tears. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry about that.”
“That’s okay.” Savannah blinked a couple of times and tried to act older than her age, the way she’d often done since that day when she’d been forced to grow up overnight, the day her mother left.
Titus watched her visibly compose herself to speak, another quality she’d learned since their world fell apart. “I was in kindergarten last year,” she said. “This time I’ll be in first grade.”
He was pleased that she wanted to communicate with Isabella. Typically, she remained silent unless absolutely necessary, so seeing her engage in conversation was a huge step. He thought about calling the child psychologist and relaying the event, but he’d already decided they weren’t going back. Besides, that woman hadn’t been able to get Savannah to utter more than a couple of sentences during the entire time they’d been going to her. Isabella had her talking in a mere day. Obviously, this woman was special, and Titus said a prayer of thanks to God for sending her their way.
“What was your teacher’s name?” Isabella asked, while Titus continued enjoying the vision of his little girl slowly but surely creeping out of her shell.
“My teacher was Mrs. Carter,” Savannah said, “but I don’t know who my teacher next year will be yet.”
The knot released, and Isabella grinned as her fingers moved all the way through. “I think I’ve got it,” she said, then took the brush again and gently pulled it through the mass of hair. “You’ve got a lot of hair, don’t you?”
Savannah turned toward Isabella, her eyes wide. “Mommy said that, too.”
Titus fought the emotion pulled from her words. He could almost see Nan, sitting on the couch with Savannah seated in front of her on the floor. They’d often watched television together that way, with Nan brushing Savannah’s hair.
“Well, your mommy was right,” Isabella said. “So, do you want a ponytail, or do you want two pigtails, like Rose and Daisy had yesterday?”
“Two pigtails.”
“All right then.” Isabella parted the hair down the middle, then gathered it into a pigtail on each side while Titus watched, amazed. She made it look so easy, but he had no doubt that if he tried, he’d probably have a worse tangle than the one Savannah had created this morning. Unlike Rose and Daisy’s pigtails, which were short and curly, Savannah’s were long, draping well past her shoulders.
But he knew the length of her pigtails wouldn’t matter to Savannah. What mattered was that she had something like her friends, and Isabella had helped that happen.
“All done,” she said, looping the elastic band around the second pigtail.
Savannah pulled a small mirror with a princess on the back from her bag and held it out to see each of the pigtails. She turned and gave Isabella the smile that Titus had been waiting for. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Isabella said, and then, while Titus’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest, Savannah scooted closer and put her arms around her in a hug.
“I’m gonna play with Rose and Daisy today,” she said, her voice more cheerful than Titus had heard in a very long time. Then she glanced toward Titus and added somberly, “I’m supposed to go to swim lessons tonight, but I don’t think I want to.”
His jaw tensed with his disappointment. “You don’t want to give it another try? That was only your first lesson last week, sweetie. You might like it better this time.”
“I want to swim,” she whispered, turning her attention from him to the doll in her hands, “but I’m afraid.”
Titus’s gaze caught Isabella’s, and she looked as though she understood that he had no idea what to do, what to say, to help his daughter.
Then her eyes brightened, and she gave him a smile before telling Savannah, “You know what? I taught swimming lessons when I lived in Atlanta. Maybe I could help you learn to swim.”
Savannah’s eyes lifted. “But I’m scared. I really want to, though.”
“We would go very slow,” Isabella said, “and I’ll be right there with you, if you decide to let me help.” She paused and then added, “I sure would like to.”
“What do you think, Savannah?” Titus asked. He said to Isabella, “I’d be happy to pay you for private lessons, if that’s what you’re offering.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t need to pay me. I’m happy to do it. And I didn’t get paid for teaching in Atlanta. I volunteered.” She shrugged. “It’s something I enjoy.”
“What do you say, Savannah?” he asked, throwing in another quick prayer for God to set this in motion.
She took another look in the mirror at her pigtails, then turned to Isabella. “I’ll try.”
Isabella wrapped an arm around her and gently squeezed. “That’s great.” She looked to Titus. “You’ll have to let me know where the nearest pool is.”
“John and Dana Cutter just put in a pool at their dude ranch, and they told me I could bring Savannah to swim anytime. I’m sure they’d be fine with you teaching her there.” He couldn’t believe this change of events, this incredible breakthrough with his little girl.
“That sounds great,” Isabella said. “Just let me know when y’all are ready to start.”
“You think I can learn it, Daddy?” Savannah asked, and he hated that he still heard hints of doubt and fear in her voice. “That I can swim?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I sure do,” he said as Savvy’s truck appeared in the driveway. She, Rose and Daisy waved as they parked beside Isabella’s car.
Seeing Savannah, the girls wasted no time climbing out. “Hey, Savannah! I like your hair!” one said.
“Me, too,” the other said. “And I like your doll. Do you want to bring her inside to play in the toy room? Our dolls are already there.”
Savannah looked at Titus, and he nodded his approval. “Go ahead,” he said. “Have fun.” Savannah gave Isabella a little nod before following them inside.
“I appreciate you offering to teach her to swim,” Titus said after the girls entered the trailer. He appreciated it more than she’d ever know. Her kindness had placed a crack in the tough shield Savannah had set in place after Nan left.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.
“You teach swim lessons?” Savvy asked.
“I volunteered teaching swim lessons in Atlanta and loved it.” She pointed to the paper beneath her purse. “I included it on my résumé, even though it isn’t office experience.”
“It’s experience helping children, so it’s totally applicable for this job. And who knows? Maybe we’ll build a pool here for the kids eventually. If you’re gonna dream, might as well dream big, right?”
Titus looked toward the trailer. “Right,” he said, and he realized that his dreams for Savannah may have started coming true today.
