Family Wanted (Willow's Haven Book 1)

by Renee Andrews

  “Will. That’s the rest of your sentence,” Savvy said with a grin. “I will.”

  “I will,” Isabella repeated, and then silently added, try.

  * * *

  It didn’t matter that he could no longer see the box. Ever since his conversation with Isabella Sunday night, Titus hadn’t stopped thinking about it or wondering what was inside. And the more his curiosity increased, the more resolute he became in the belief that whatever Nan had left behind would do him in.

  Part of him wanted to burn the thing. Or take it to the Claremont dump and toss it. Maybe drop it at the top of Jasper Falls and watch it plummet.

  Another part wanted to rip it open and determine what had happened during her last three years.

  Unfortunately, whatever he’d started feeling toward Isabella on Sunday had been hindered by his preoccupation with the box and by her insistence that he should open it. That box served as a reminder that the first woman he’d ever loved, the mother of his child, had abandoned him and Savannah. It reminded him that, even when she knew she was dying, Nan hadn’t felt the need to let him know, hadn’t thought he deserved a chance to tell her goodbye or to let them see her one more time. And it reminded him that people you care about—people you love—can leave without warning. Without explanation. With no regard to the shattered hearts left in their wake.

  Yes, he’d started having feelings toward Isabella, but how did he know she wouldn’t do the same thing? He’d believed he’d known Nan so well, and she’d blindsided him. How could he let himself fall so easily for someone that he’d just met? Titus wouldn’t have thought it possible, but on Sunday, he’d sensed his heart tumbling for the beautiful, sensitive woman with the tormented past. And during the four days since, he’d done his best to reel it back in.

  He’d seen Isabella each morning when he dropped Savannah off, and he’d thanked her for fixing her hair. He’d also spent each afternoon with her at the pool, but he kept his attention on Savannah and made no more comments to Isabella than absolutely necessary. When it was time to leave, he’d politely thank her and then gently coax Savannah away from the woman she undeniably loved.

  Titus didn’t want to harm the relationship Savannah had developed with Isabella, because he knew how much it helped her to have a mother figure in her life again. He just couldn’t let himself see Isabella as someone to fill the huge void in his own world.

  Quite honestly, he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to have that space filled again.

  By the time Savannah’s swim lesson ended Thursday afternoon, Titus believed he’d sufficiently distanced himself from Isabella. There was no way she hadn’t noticed that their relationship was clearly friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. Even today, while he’d praised Savannah for her new skill of swimming underwater, he’d kept his attention off Isabella and focused solely on his daughter.

  Thankfully, this would be their last swim lesson of the week, since tomorrow was the Fourth of July, and the entire town would be busy with the traditional festivities—a friendly community softball game in the morning, the parade in the afternoon and fireworks tomorrow evening. Granted, he’d probably see Isabella at some of the events, but there would be plenty of people around. They wouldn’t be as isolated as they were now, with merely the two of them and Savannah at the pool.

  “Did you see me, Daddy? Wasn’t that awesome?” Savannah asked as she exited the water and accepted her towel from Titus.

  “Very awesome,” he said, while she dried off and Isabella, still in the pool, swam to the deep end to retrieve a couple of kickboards they’d used at the beginning of the lesson. He didn’t want to watch how elegantly she moved when she swam, or the way her hair billowed behind her in the water, the red shimmering against the late-afternoon sun.

  He didn’t want to watch. But he couldn’t help himself.

  “Someday I want to swim that good, like Miss Isabella,” Savannah said, obviously aware that her father gawked at the woman in the pool.

  Titus turned away from the affecting image to gather Savannah’s shorts and T-shirt from the table. “Here you go,” he said. “Go ahead and get dressed, please.” He wanted her to be ready to leave before Isabella came out of the water.

  Savannah slipped her T-shirt over her head, stepped into her shorts and then caught sight of her friend at the barn. “Hey, there’s Abi,” she said, waving toward Abi, her parents Landon and Georgiana, as well as John and Dana, all standing near a blue horse trailer.

  Abi waved back and yelled, “Savannah! Come see our new pony!”

  “Oh, wow!” Savannah grabbed her shoes and pushed her feet inside. “Daddy, I’m going to go see the new pony, okay?”

  Titus didn’t have the option to say no. What reason could he give and, besides, Savannah had already started running toward the barn. “Just for a few minutes!” he yelled after her, and then thought he might head to the barn, too, at least until their swim instructor left.

  But before he could start an exit, Isabella reached the steps and began climbing out. So instead of escaping to the barn, he did the gentlemanly thing, grabbing her beach towel from the table and meeting her as she reached the concrete. Her swimsuit today was a deep purple. The rich hue seemed to draw more attention to the reddish tones in her hair and the vivid green of her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching toward the towel with her right hand and then extending the kickboards she clutched in her left. “Can you hold these while I dry off?”

  “Sure,” he said, taking the boards. But instead of standing there and watching her, which wouldn’t do anything for distancing himself from his natural attraction, he walked back to the table, picked up her large beach bag and slid the boards inside. By the time he turned around, she’d finished drying, had already slid on a pair of shorts and was pulling an Atlanta Braves T-shirt over her head.

  The additional clothing should have made him stop noticing how beautiful she was after she swam, but Isabella’s attractiveness wasn’t merely physical. She radiated inner beauty as well, from the way she smiled to the way she spoke to the way she studied her surroundings with those inquisitive green eyes.

  Titus cleared his throat and prepared to tell her he was going to the barn. Anything to get away from the urge to push that wet lock of auburn hair away from her cheek. And to stop wondering what it’d feel like to hold her, kiss her or tell her that, in spite of his attempt to keep his distance, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all week.

  “Kind of tough to avoid talking to me when it’s just the two of us here, isn’t it?” she asked, those green eyes studying him and making him feel as though she knew how very difficult it was to fight whatever he felt toward her. One corner of her mouth dipped down, and she looked troubled. “Titus, I need to apologize.”

  He had no idea what she had to feel sorry about. The problem wasn’t with Isabella. It was with him. He’d simply realized he wasn’t ready to trust a female again—didn’t know if he’d ever be ready—and he’d let his feelings for Isabella and his gratitude for her helping Savannah teeter too close to the edge of love. Certainly, that wasn’t her fault. “Apologize for what?”

  “I obviously made you uncomfortable Sunday night when I told you that I thought you should open that box of Nan’s things. You’ve hardly spoken to me all week, barely even looked at me,” she said, her tone saying that both facts hurt. “And I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

  Titus didn’t want to hurt her, but he also didn’t want to put himself in the situation to be hurt again. Or risk Savannah getting hurt. Yet Savannah was already so emotionally connected to Isabella that if something happened to take her out of Savannah’s life, Titus knew his little girl would be devastated.

  Had he already messed up by letting them grow so close?

  He looked toward the barn and saw Savannah and Abi petting the new pony while th
e adults took photos with their phones, which gave him some time to justify his actions this week. “I don’t know any other way to explain this than to tell you the truth,” he said.

  “Okay.” She stuffed her towel in the bag with the kickboards. “I’m listening.”

  Titus took a deep breath, let it out and decided to start with the basics. “Sunday spooked me.”

  Confusion etched clearly across her features. “Spooked you, how?”

  “Having you there, with Savannah and with me, spending the day with us, playing with her and taking care of her, sharing dinner together and then tucking Savannah in.” He shook his head and wished he were better with words. He was a guy, and guys weren’t all that great at sharing feelings. Nan had often reminded him of that when they were married. She’d also told him it was best to simply put it all out there, say what he was thinking instead of making her try to guess. Typical females weren’t into guessing the feelings—or lack thereof—going on in a guy’s head.

  But Isabella wasn’t a typical female. She’d been hurt growing up, had never had a real family and had been through a sorry excuse of a marriage. And on Sunday, he’d seen it on her face; she’d felt something happening between them, too. For Titus to act as though he could give her whatever she wanted was wrong. He couldn’t. Because he couldn’t get over what happened with Nan. If he were over it, it wouldn’t have bothered him when Savannah asked Isabella to tuck her in, wouldn’t have stabbed his heart when she said he should open that box.

  “Letting me spend the day with you and Savannah spooked you,” she said quietly, “because it reminded you of what you had with Nan and what you lost.” She pushed her hands in the pockets of her shorts, looked toward the mountains as if deciding what to say next. Then her head moved in a subtle nod and she turned back to Titus.

  Titus didn’t know what to say.

  She shook her head. “Think about what you had with her, Titus. The family that y’all had together with Savannah. Any woman who had something that wonderful wouldn’t have left without a good reason.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and Titus wondered if she were saying a quick prayer. Then she opened them and asked, “Don’t you think that she may have left you something that tells you what that reason was? If you’d just open the box...”

  He couldn’t believe they were back to this again. Why wouldn’t she leave it alone? “Nothing in that box is going to change the fact that she walked out, or that she died without giving us a chance to say goodbye.” He wished he could control the anger in his tone, but he was done talking about that box, done thinking about it.

  She shook her head, looked up at the sky and released a ragged breath. Titus didn’t know why this had her so upset. It wasn’t as if it were her problem—it was his. “Titus, I need to tell you something.”

  They’d been so intent on the conversation that they hadn’t seen or heard the two girls sprinting toward the pool, with John and Dana following close behind.

  “Daddy! I forgot to tell you about the bonfire!” Savannah yelled breathlessly.

  He wanted to ask Isabella what she needed to say, but she’d turned her back when the girls neared, probably to keep them from seeing her so emotional. “Bonfire?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow night. They told us at church, but I forgot to tell you.”

  “We’re having a bonfire here for the kids,” Dana explained, as she and John joined the girls by the pool. “Since so many of them get scared by the loud fireworks, we thought we’d do a kid thing at the ranch for the Fourth. We’re going to roast marshmallows, make s’mores, sing songs.”

  “And spend the night!” Abi added.

  “In tents!” Savannah said. “Isn’t that great, Daddy?”

  The thought of her spending the night outside in a tent didn’t sit well with him. He asked Dana, “Is Savannah old enough for this thing?”

  “I am, Daddy,” she said. “Rose and Daisy are going to be here. And they’re six, same as me.”

  But Titus awaited Dana’s answer.

  “We’re actually starting at age five,” she said. “Savannah had mentioned she wanted to come when we announced it during children’s church on Sunday, so I’d already put her down to stay in the tent with Savvy, Rose and Daisy. We have an adult and three kids in each tent,” she explained.

  “And we’ll spend the night and then we’re going to ride horses and go fishing on Saturday,” Savannah said excitedly.

  “We’re planning on the fun lasting until Saturday afternoon,” John said. “And we’d love for Savannah to come, if that’s okay with you.”

  Savannah had never spent the night away from home except for an occasional weekend trip to the beach with Titus’s folks. “Are you sure you want to stay?” he asked. “All night?”

  “Daddy, I’m six,” she answered, as though that were the all-important I’m-growing-up number. And maybe it was.

  “Okay, then, I guess that’s fine,” he said, and was rewarded with an exuberant hug from Savannah.

  “Thanks so much, Daddy!”

  He patted her back and got the details from Dana and John, all the while watching Isabella keep her back to them during the process of gathering her things.

  She started walking toward her car without looking back, but her shaking shoulders and an occasional movement of her hand to her face told Titus she was crying. He wanted to check on her, ask her why she was so upset, but he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact, since he seemed to be the only one who noticed. Everyone else chattered nonstop about the Fourth of July plans.

  “I’ll see all of you tomorrow,” Isabella called, climbing in her car. She’d parked far enough away that Titus couldn’t see her face, and neither could the remainder of the group.

  “See you tomorrow!” Dana returned.

  “Bye, Miss Isabella!” Savannah called.

  Titus couldn’t let her leave without finding out what she needed to tell him that had her so worked up. “Hang on. I’ll be right back,” he said to the group, then he sprinted to her car.

  She was looking through her purse when he tapped on the driver’s side window, and she jumped. Then she rubbed both palms across her cheeks and lowered the window.

  Her long lashes were wet spikes, but Titus didn’t think that was from swimming as much as from crying, and he hated that he’d made her cry. He leaned his forehead against the top of the door. “Isabella, what is it? Are you okay?”

  She sniffed. “I will be.”

  He knew John and Dana were probably watching, but he didn’t care. “You said you had something to talk to me about.”

  She leaned forward to look past him, presumably at the group still by the pool. “It can wait.” Then she blinked through the tears and started the car. “I’ve got to go, Titus. Sorry I got so upset. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Then she rolled up the window and drove away, leaving Titus to wonder why, if he’d worked so hard to distance himself from her all week, he wanted nothing more than to run after her now.

  Chapter Twelve

  I hope you will forgive me, too.

  Titus woke even earlier than usual Friday morning. Or rather, he never really went to sleep. His night had been filled with the memory of Isabella crying and then leaving. Their brief conversation, combined with how miserable he’d felt when she’d driven away, had convinced him that his plan to stay away from her would never work.

  He couldn’t get her off his mind, couldn’t get her out of his heart. But she was convinced that he needed to open that box and see what Nan had left behind, and Titus had realized this week, as he tried to stay away from Isabella and then failed, that she was probably right. Unless he opened—and closed—that final chapter of his relationship with Nan, he’d never be able to move forward with anyone, even someone as amazing as Isabella Gray.

  But the memory of the d
ay Nan walked out and the moment when he read that single sheet of paper that ended up being her final letter cut so deeply that Titus didn’t know if he could handle another stab of pain regarding the marriage he’d thought would last forever.

  So he still hadn’t opened the box. And he still wasn’t ready to move on.

  He needed advice, and he knew where to get it.

  As the first rays of sunlight pierced the sky, Titus finished off his second cup of coffee, placed the cup on the porch table and picked up his phone. Unlike his mother, Titus’s father never slept past sunup. Right now, he was probably on his back deck watching it rise above the gulf. A perfect time for the two of them to have a heart-to-heart while the ladies of their lives, Titus’s mother and Savannah, were still sleeping.

  He selected the number from his Favorites, and his father answered after the first ring. Titus heard him clearing his throat, and then he answered, “Hey, son, what’s wrong?”

  His dad knew him well. “You’re saying I only call when something’s wrong?”

  “Usually, but there’s nothing terrible about that,” his dad said. “So, does this have something to do with Isabella?”

  Titus shook his head, not overly surprised that his mother had already filled him in on the little tidbit she’d assumed when they talked last week. Turned out her assumption, as usual, was pretty close to the mark. “Mom told you about Isabella?”

  “Just that she’s new to Claremont, that Savannah loves her and that she’s pretty sure God sent her to you because she prayed for Him to. Nothing much more than that,” he said, humor lining every word.

  Titus laughed. “It’s a good thing I love her.”

  “Can’t help but love her, that’s what I always say,” his father said, also chuckling. “So...is this about Isabella?”

  “Partly,” Titus admitted. “And it’s also about Nan.”

  A thick inhalation echoed through the line, then his father let it out in a whoosh and said, “Okay, I’m ready. Shoot.”