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He clicked open the booster seat latches. Isabella ignored his outstretched arms and scrambled out of the car. It was freaky the way she never said a word.
“Anyone home?” he called, leading her into his parent’s house.
The scent of lemons greeted them. “You’re in luck. Mom must be baking pie.”
Isabella popped her thumb in her mouth and stared.
His mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
He swallowed. How did he introduce Isabella to his parents? New evidence he was a screw-up.
“I...I brought someone to meet you.”
Mom’s gaze dropped to the girl standing next to him. “Who is this?”
“Mom, meet Isabella.” His voice cracked.
His mom looked between the girl and him. Her mouth dropped open. “Nathan?” she whispered.
“Can you say hi?” Nathan touched the kid’s shoulder. Isabella shook her head.
Mom knelt and brushed back the dirty hair covering her eyes. “Hey there, Isabella. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”
Isabella nodded.
Mom took her hand. “Let’s wash up and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
Nathan headed into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped the cap. Swearing under his breath, he took a big gulp, then another.
“Put that down.” His mother’s voice was drill sergeant worthy.
“What? Why?”
“Because you drove a little girl here.” Mom helped the kid onto a chair.
Isabella’s hair was brushed and her face and hands were cleaner now. Thank God.
“Talk to me.” Mom pulled out bread, butter and leftover ham. She made a quick sandwich and cut it into four triangles.
The girl watched Mom with brown eyes that dominated her tiny face.
Nathan waved a hand. “Go ahead and eat.”
Mom poured a glass of sweet tea and stood next to him. “Who is she?”
“She’s...” God, he wanted that beer. And maybe another six. “She’s my daughter.” The words flew out of his mouth.
His mother’s face paled. She grabbed a chair, sinking in it. “Daughter?” Her voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.
He nodded. “I thought about doing a test.”
Mom shook her head. “Look at her. She’s the spitting image of you and Daniel.”
He stared as Isabella devoured her food.
“When did you find out?” Mom stroked a hand down Isabella’s hair.
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Today?”
He nodded.
“I have a granddaughter.” Her voice filled with wonder.
Good. He needed Mom’s enthusiasm.
Mom touched Isabella’s shoulder. “How old are you, honey?”
She held up her hand and pulled her thumb down.
“Four?” Nathan hoped the numbers weren’t jumbling in his head.
The girl nodded and took another sandwich triangle.
Mom hustled over to the cupboard, found a small glass and poured milk. Then she diced pieces of ham and slid them onto the plate.
“Where has she been?” Mom asked.
“I...” Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Heather dropped her off and left. She said something about going into treatment.”
Mom hugged his shoulders. “You get to take care of this precious girl.”
“I can’t.” He was panicking just thinking about it. “I don’t know anything about kids.”
“No parent does at first.” Mom squeezed his hand. “You’ll learn. There are plenty of books that can help.”
All his muscles tensed. “I can’t read.”
“It takes you longer, but you can read.” She frowned. “You could try books on tape, too.”
“I don’t have that kind of time.” He had a restaurant to build.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “For children, you make the time.”
“I was h-hoping you’d help,” he sputtered.
“Of course I will.” She grinned. “I have a granddaughter.”
“I mean...” He waved his hand around. “Have her live here. With someone who knows about kids.”
“She’s your daughter.” The smile slipped off his mom’s face. “You need to get to know her.”
“I will.” He paced.
Her chair squeaked as she stood. She headed to the fridge and brought back the milk carton. “She’ll live with you.”
He ripped at his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ll learn.”
“Learn?” His voice grew louder. “Me? Impossible.”
Isabella stopped eating. Her gaze bounced between Nathan and his mom.
Pop came down the back stairs, rubbing his neck like he’d just taken a nap. He probably had. His chemo treatments were brutal. He stopped, looking between Nathan and his mom as they faced off.
Then Pop spotted the kid. “Who do we have here?”
Mom took Pop’s hand. “Samuel, meet Isabella, our granddaughter.”
“Our...” Pop’s gaze shot to Nathan. Disapproval tightened the lines around his mouth. “Our granddaughter?”
Nathan swallowed. Not able to find the words, he nodded.
“Nathan just found out,” Mom added.
Pop crouched in front of the girl, his knees popping. “What’s your name again?”
“Isabella,” Nathan and his mom said together. Nathan set a hand on the kid’s trembling shoulder. “She doesn’t say much.”
“Debbie, do I smell pie?” Pop asked.
Mom nodded.
“Well, why don’t we try some of that?” Pop asked Isabella.
The kid nodded. She’d already finished the sandwich and extra ham. Hadn’t Heather fed her?
While Mom pulled out plates and the pie, Nathan whispered, “I don’t know how to care for a kid. How about you and Mom handle that for me?”
Pop raised a bushy white eyebrow. “I’ve raised my kids.”
Nathan rubbed at the ache in his chest. “I can’t screw up.”
“You’ll figure everything out.” Pop slapped him on the back. “Just like we did.”
He couldn’t do this alone. He wasn’t prepared.
Mom set a piece of pie in front of him.
Nathan stabbed at the slice, bringing a forkful to his lips. The tart lemon made his mouth water.
There had to be someone he could tap to take care of the kid.
He thought through the women he’d dated in Savannah. There was Tracie, but she could barely take care of herself. Gabby—aptly named since she talked everyone’s ear off—was kind of an airhead. A nice airhead, but still not right.
He’d never been attracted to the motherly types.
The only mother he knew was...Cheryl. They lived next door to each other.
Hope had him releasing a deep exhale. Cheryl.
* * *
CHERYL COULDN’T AFFORD to pay for her next culinary class. She swallowed back a sour taste. She would have to apply for grants and financial aid.
She stared at the paperwork scattered over her kitchen table. Well, not her kitchen table—the Fitzgeralds’. She’d left all her furniture behind when she’d run from Levi.
What a sorry life. The only things she and Josh owned were their clothes and a car. And the bank owned most of the car. A car Nathan still had.
It was after seven. What was he doing? She’d planned to go grocery shopping after work. She needed her car.
“Bath time, Josh,” she called.
“I took one last night,” he yelled from the living room.
“And today you poured concrete and moved dirt for Miss Bess.”
Josh came into the kitchen. “Can I take a shower?”
“If you promise to scrub. Everywhere.”
He looked offended. “Promise.”
She turned on the shower taps while he stripped. “In the hamper, please.”
Back in the kitchen, she straightened her papers. She had to apply for loans online, but didn’t have a computer. Luckily, the Fitzgeralds didn’t mind her using the business center. She’d head over in the morning.
There was a knock at the kitchen door and Cheryl jumped. Couldn’t help it. No one knocked on that door. Even though it had to be Nathan with her car keys, her belly did a little flip.
She was safe. Levi was in prison. “Who is it?”
“Nathan.”
Unlocking the dead bolt, she pulled on the swollen door to find Nathan and Isabella on the other side. Nathan’s face was drawn and solemn.
“I could fix that for you.” He examined the sides of the door.
