Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

“Sarah!”

In an instant he reached for his daughter, scooped her up in his arms, held her close. “I was so worried…”

Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He hugged her, the little angles of her knees poking him, her tears wetting his shirt. He’d never felt anything so sweet in his life. He had her back. “You’re safe now, honey.”

Daniel turned to the woman before him. He hadn’t seen her on the island before. If he had, he’d have remembered. Short blond hair, sea-green eyes and a splattering of freckles across her cheeks that gave her a sun-kissed glow.

“Thank you.” The words were inadequate.

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He held out his hand. “I’m Daniel Gregory, Sarah’s father.”

Her palm fit nicely into his. “Leigh Christopher.”

Daniel knew it was time to thank her again and walk away. But somehow he couldn’t just leave…

MARTA PERRY

loves seeing the stories in her imagination take shape on the page, so that they can be shared with others. The idea for A Father’s Promise began in a chance meeting at a church conference with a child whose hearing impairment didn’t keep her from doing everything she wanted to do. The Sea Islands, where the author and her husband have a vacation home, provided the perfect setting for the story of Daniel, Leigh and little Sarah.

Marta wanted to be a writer from the moment she encountered Nancy Drew, at about age eight. She didn’t see publication of her stories until many years later, when she began writing children’s fiction for Sunday school papers while she was a church education director. Although now retired from that position in order to write full-time, she continues to play an active part in her church and loves teaching a lively class of fifth- and sixth-grade Sunday school students.

As is true for Daniel and Leigh, the author has found in her own life that God gives far more than we could ask.

The author lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband of thirty-six years and has three grown children. She loves to hear from readers and enjoys responding. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 300 E. 42nd St., New York, NY 10017.

A Father’s Promise
Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or conceive, by the power which is at work within us…

—Ephesians 3:20

This book is dedicated to my children, Lorie, Susan and Scott, who have taught me much about love. And, as always, to Brian.

Chapter One

The moment he realized his daughter was lost, Daniel Gregory knew his life had to change.

Alone as usual, he balanced on the second-story beam of what was going to be his oceanfront inn and stared down at the teenage baby-sitter. She stood just outside the construction site, tears streaking her face. He’d feel sorry for her if not for the panic searing his nerves.

“How did this happen?” He swung himself to the sand. “How could you let a deaf child out of your sight?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gregory. Honest. I didn’t mean to. But the phone rang, and she was just playing on the porch, and I thought I’d only be a minute…”

The girl’s excuses ran out, and she gestured up the path to the house.

“You don’t think she went toward the water?” Daniel’s heart clenched. He shot a glance at the ocean that lapped the shores of the Georgia sea island. The tide was going out; the surf, a gentle ripple.

She shook her head, tears welling. “Sarah’s scared of the waves. I don’t think she’d go that way. I looked out by the road but didn’t see her, so I ran down here to find you.”

The girl dissolved in heart-wrenching sobs, and Daniel gave her shoulder a quick pat. He was about as helpless at comforting her as he was at taking care of his child, he thought bitterly.

“Come on, Patsy. We’ll find her.” He couldn’t let the kid see how scared he was, or she’d be no help at all. “You go back up and search the house. I’ll check the beach.”

Patsy brushed tears from frightened brown eyes. “Right away. I’ll look everywhere.” She turned and darted up the path through sea grass and palmettos toward the house.

Daniel rounded the edge of the construction, scanning the beach. The usual few tourists, a fisherman or two. No little girl with dark hair in untidy braids and the cords of her hearing aid dangling like a necklace.

He forced himself to look again, tamping down the need to run, to shout her name. Shouting wouldn’t do any good. Sarah wouldn’t hear him.

His gut cramped. Sarah, where are you? If she was on the beach he’d see her, but she could be on any of a dozen paths that led through tangles of scrub growth toward the road. He had to make a choice. He jogged down the beach, his gaze probing every inch of sand and beach grass.

Two months. He’d had his daughter for two short months, and already something bad had happened. He was the only one in her life she could count on, and he’d let her down.

I promise. Sarah, I promise. I’ll find a way to take better care of you. I promise. Just be all right.

“Hurry up, Aunt Leigh. The tide’s going out, and I want to look for shells.”

Leigh Christopher smiled down at her impatient nephew. Mark had to do everything in a hurry, just like his mother. Her sister, Jamie, always had an agenda in mind, and Jamie’s seven-year-old son echoed that quality. Meggie, Mark’s five-year-old sister, lagged behind, happily inspecting the tiny insect that crawled along the fan of a palmetto.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Mark.” Leigh shifted an armload of beach towels from one arm to the other.

Mark cast an expert glance at the sun. With his blue eyes and freckles he looked just like Jamie. But Jamie would have been glancing at the businesslike watch she always wore.

“You said you had to go back to the house and work on your…your résumés.” He said the unfamiliar word carefully. Mark always had to know the right word for things. “So we have to hurry.”

“We’re not in that much of a rush,” Leigh began, when Meggie tugged at her hand. Leigh turned to her. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Look, Aunt Leigh. Look at that little girl. She’s losted.”

“Lost,” Mark corrected.

“We have to help her.” Meggie trotted ahead.

Leigh gazed along the path that wound to the beach. Meggie had seen what Leigh hadn’t—a child scrunched against the rough base of a palmetto, arms wrapped protectively around her legs, head down.

Leigh’s heart thumped. Meggie was right. She might not know the word, but she knew what losted looked like.

Leigh hurried toward the little girl. “Hi, there,” she called. “Are you okay?”

The child didn’t respond. Meggie scampered up to her and tugged her arm. “Hey, are you losted?”

The little girl jerked up her head at the touch, panic filling eyes that were as dark a brown as her hair. Leigh saw what she wore around her neck, and it hit her like a blow to the heart. A hearing aid. The child was deaf.

It took a moment to recover from the shock, another moment to reach the child. Leigh knelt in the sand, a bramble wrapping around her bare ankle. She snatched off her glasses so the little girl could see her eyes.

“Hi.” She smiled, touching her hand lightly. “Are you okay?”

She signed the words as she said them, her mind already busy assessing the child, as efficiently as if she’d never left her classroom. Five or six, maybe. She must have some residual hearing or she wouldn’t be wearing an aid.

The child stared at Leigh, her dark eyes frightened. She scooted a little closer to the tree trunk.

Leigh forced herself to sit back. Scared, poor child. Well, of course she was scared, out here alone. Where were her parents? Leigh took a deep breath. Lord, help me to do the right thing.

“My name is Leigh.” She signed the words again, finger-spelling her name. Then she added the name sign her first students had given her—an L tapped against the dimple that accented her smile. “What’s your name?”

Mark tugged at her shoulder. “Why are you signing, Aunt Leigh?”

“Because she can’t hear. Or at least, not much.” Impossible to tell how much hearing the child had.

“She’s deaf? Like the kids you used to teach?”

“Like the kids I used to teach.” Her voice wobbled a little on the words, making her angry with herself. That part of her life was over, and it was time to move on.

Meggie leaned around him to pat the little girl’s hand. “It’s okay. We’re friends.” Slowly she finger-spelled her name, the way Leigh had taught her. “Meggie. I’m Meggie.”

For an instant the child’s ability to respond hung in the balance. Then, with the smallest of gestures, the child’s fingers began to move. S-A-R-A-H.

“Sarah.” Leigh let her breath out in relief. Now they were getting somewhere. At least the child—Sarah—understood them. That should take some of the fear away.

“I’m Leigh,” she said again. “This is Mark…” She finger-spelled the name. “And Meggie.”

Sarah ducked her head shyly. She must not have been around other children much, judging by the fascinated way she stared at Leigh’s niece and nephew. Why not? She was certainly old enough to be in school.

“How old are you, Sarah?”

She was ready to ask again, when Sarah held up her hand, spreading five fingers wide.

“Five!” Meggie exclaimed, grinning. She tapped her chest and nodded. “Me, too.”

Sarah smiled back. Meggie might not know much signing, but she was doing a better job of communicating with Sarah than Leigh was. Leigh captured the child’s attention and signed as she spoke slowly.

“Who did you come to the beach with today, Sarah? Was it Mommy?”

The little face froze, and then she shook her head violently, braids and hearing-aid cords flopping.

Something about her innocent question had upset the child. She hated to push, but she had to get some answers in order to help.

“Daddy?” she questioned.

Sarah nodded vigorously. “Dad—dy,” she pronounced, speaking for the first time.

“Nice talking, Sarah.” The words came out of Leigh’s mouth automatically, her standard response when one of her students attempted to verbalize. It was nice talking, especially in this case.

“Where is Daddy?”

The brown eyes filled suddenly with tears, piercing Leigh’s heart. She longed to hold the little body close and comforting, but she didn’t want to risk scaring her further.

Meggie wasn’t held back by that concern. She shoved her way past Leigh and put both arms around Sarah.

“It’s okay.” She patted Sarah as if the child were one of her many dolls. “It’s okay. We’ll find your daddy.”

Of course they’d find him. But where was he? Leigh looked toward the beach, then back along the path toward the road. Nothing. The parents of children with disabilities were usually overprotective to a fault in her experience, especially fathers. How had Sarah’s father been so careless as to lose her?

She stood, trying to decide the best thing to do. She could take Sarah to the island police station, but she hated to put her through that if it wasn’t necessary.

“Tell you what.” She held out her hand to Sarah, giving her an encouraging smile. “Let’s walk down to the beach. Maybe we can find Daddy.”

And if not, they could walk back up to the nearest phone and call for help. There had to be one closer than her sister’s place.

Sarah stared at Leigh for a long moment. Then she got up, dusted sand from her shorts and took her hand.

Leigh’s fingers closed around the small hand, and her throat tightened. She managed a smile. “Let’s go.”

He had to turn back, had to run for a phone and set a search in motion—Then Daniel saw them coming toward him down the path. A woman, a couple of towheaded kids and his Sarah.

“Sarah!” In an instant he had reached her, scooped her up in his arms, held her close. “Sarah, I was so worried.”

Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her face in his shoulder. He hugged her, the little angles of her knees poking him, her tears wetting his shirt.

He’d never felt anything so sweet in his life. He had her back. If he had to wipe out everything he’d saved to hire a decent sitter, he’d do it. This was never going to happen again.

Carefully he peeled away the stranglehold Sarah had on him so he could see her face. “Honey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

The smallest of smiles peeked out from behind the tears, like sunlight through the clouds.

He smoothed tangled dark hair back from her face, coaxing a bigger smile. “Okay? That’s my girl.”

She nodded, brushing away tears with the back of her hand.

Tugging his attention from Sarah, he turned to the woman and kids. The two little towheads looked familiar—Josh and Jamie Reynolds’s kids, he thought they were. But the woman…

He hadn’t seen her on the island before; Daniel knew that. If he had, he’d remember.

Slim, straight, almost tomboyish in jeans shorts and a T-shirt, except that no boy sported curves like that. Short blond hair ruffled by the wind; sea-green eyes; a spattering of freckles across her cheeks, giving her a sun-kissed golden glow. She reminded him of a buttercup, all yellow and windblown.

“Thank you.” The words were inadequate.

She smiled, and a misplaced dimple appeared at the corner of lips that curved upward easily. “You’re welcome. I know how scary it is to lose one of these creatures.” She gestured toward the two Reynolds kids.

He shifted Sarah to his left shoulder so that he could hold out his hand. “I’m Daniel Gregory. Sarah’s father.”

Her palm was warm and a little sandy, and it fit nicely into his. “Leigh Christopher.”

His fingers tightened a little. “Nice to meet you, Leigh. And thank you again.” To his embarrassment, his voice roughened on the words.

“Our pleasure.”

Time to end the exchange and walk away. Somehow he didn’t want to do that.

“Are you the Reynolds’s baby-sitter?”

“No—” she began, but the little girl preempted her.

“She can’t be our baby-sitter!” For some reason she seemed to find that hilarious. “She’s our aunt!”

The boy frowned at his sister. “Stupid, she could still be our baby-sitter, if she wanted to be, but she’s not. Aunt Leigh teaches deaf kids—” He stopped suddenly, a blush sweeping across his freckled face.

“It’s okay.” Leigh tousled his hair. “Mr. Gregory knows Sarah is deaf.”

“‘Daniel,’” he said. “Not ‘Mr. Gregory.’” He liked her easy manner with the kids. Liked everything he’d seen, in fact. He found himself wanting to see that generous smile again.

“I know Josh doesn’t have any sisters, so you must be Jamie’s. Are you visiting long?”

“Probably the rest of the summer.” She touched the two kids. “Have to spend some time with these guys before they grow up on me.”

“Aunt Leigh’s looking for a new job,” the boy informed him. “She sends out résumés every day.”

Now it was her turn to blush, and she met his eyes with a rueful smile. “No privacy around kids, is there?”

“Not much privacy on an island anyway.” His mind churned, way too fast. He had to think this through, but he couldn’t let her get away. Maybe, for once in his life, the answer to his problems had dropped right into his lap.

“Look, I need to get Sarah back to the house, but I’d like to talk to you again. Are you going to be on the beach for a while?”

He thought he saw something a little wary in those sea-green eyes, but she nodded. “We plan to do some serious beachcombing today.”

“Good.” He cradled Sarah against him. “I’ll see you a little later, then.”

She nodded, then touched Sarah lightly, signing as she spoke. “Goodbye, Sarah. I’m glad we met you.”

His shy daughter smiled in return, then waved to them. He realized she was trying to finger-spell Leigh’s name.

Daniel’s heart beat somewhere up in his throat. That was more than she’d tried to communicate with anyone else in the two months since she’d come to live with him. Leigh Christopher was the perfect answer to his problems. And all he had to do was figure out how to convince her of that.

“Aunt Leigh!” Mark tugged her hand. “Don’t you want to help us finish the sand castle?”

Leigh pulled her gaze from the retreating waves and suppressed a yawn. “Sure I do.” She knelt beside him. “Wow, what a great job. How about a moat?”

Meggie ran to fill her green plastic bucket with water, and Mark began burrowing out a trench. Leigh dug her fingers through hot surface sand to the cool moistness beneath, watching Meggie fill her bucket, spill it, then patiently approach the next wave. Too many more sun-drenched, lazy days like this and she’d turn into a vegetable.

Well, that was the idea, wasn’t it? She’d come to St. Joseph’s Island for just that reason, and in the short time she’d been here, she’d already begun to heal. The encounter with Sarah had been distressing, but the memory of the upheaval receded, slipping away like the tide ruffling the sand, then smoothing it out.

Meggie ran back, water slopping from the pail and splashing her bare brown legs. She sent a convoy of sandpipers veering in another direction as she sloshed to a stop.

“Wait, wait,” Mark directed, his voice fussy. “I haven’t finished the moat yet. You and Aunt Leigh have to wait until I’m done.”

Meggie looked ready to argue, but Leigh was perfectly happy to lean back on her elbows and watch him work. Peace flooded over her, a peace she hadn’t experienced in months. Yes, a few more days like this…

A shadow fell across the sand castle. Leigh looked up, shading her eyes with her hand, but somehow she already knew whom she’d see. Eyes like bittersweet chocolate, dark hair cut short with a ruthless hand, a lean face and a determined jaw. Daniel Gregory.

“Mr. Gregory!” Mark grinned at him. “Look at my castle.”

“Our castle,” Meggie said. “Mine, too.”

“It’s great.” Daniel squatted next to Leigh. He patted a little extra sand into place on the castle wall with one strong hand and smiled at the children. “You did a fine job.”

“Does your little girl like to build sand castles?” Meggie, always ready to be friends with the world, leaned confidingly against his knee.

Daniel frowned, sending a glance toward Leigh that she couldn’t understand, and a flicker of uneasiness went through her.

“Sarah doesn’t like playing on the beach much.”

“She’d like it if she played with me,” Meggie said, confident in her ability. “Bring her to play with me.”

Daniel was beginning to look a bit overwhelmed by Meggie’s volubility. Maybe she’d better rescue him. She handed Meggie an empty pail.

“We need more water for the moat. Why don’t you go and get some.”

Meggie ran off, and Leigh smiled at him. “The rescue is on the house. She loves to talk.”

He met her smile with an intent look in those chocolate brown eyes. “I wish Sarah did.”

“I know,” she said softly. That was always a problem. Hearing parents hoped against hope that their children would learn to speak. Some even refused to sign, as if denying the situation would make it go away.

Daniel squared his body toward her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat that radiated from his olive skin. “I want to talk to you.”

Leigh shrugged, feeling ridiculously off balance. “We are talking, aren’t we?” All right, he was an attractive man. Very attractive. That was no reason for her breath to quicken or her pulse to suddenly beat a tattoo in her throat.

Brown eyes locked on hers, holding her gaze captive.

“It’s about something important. About my daughter. Sarah.”

His voice softened on the name, and something melted inside her. She’d always been a fool for that kind of gentleness in a strong, rugged man.

“Sarah’s a darling,” she said.

“Sarah needs help,” he countered.

Trouble, that’s all she could think. Whatever he wanted, it meant trouble. She glanced at Mark, but he’d moved away to dig up some fresh sand, and Meggie splashed through an inch or two of water, trying to scoop it up.

Leigh leaned back, as if an added inch of space between her and Gregory might give her an advantage.

“Look, I know you don’t know me.” He frowned. “I know this is sudden. But your brother-in-law can vouch for me, and I can get references…”

“What are you talking about?” She knew what was coming now, and the peace of the day unraveled in an instant.

“I want you to work for me, taking care of Sarah.”

He said it in a rush, as if he had to get the words out in a hurry. As if asking anyone for help were a blow to his pride.

“I’m not looking for a job,” she said quickly.

“But Mark said you were filling out résumés.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “I know. I mean, I’m not looking for that kind of a job.” Not ever again. “And anyway, you don’t know anything about me.”

He smiled, as if the hard part were over. As if convincing her to agree to what he wanted would be a piece of cake. “I know you’re Jamie Reynolds’s sister. I know they trust you with their kids. I know you’re a teacher of deaf children.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m the right person for Sarah.” She had to think. She wasn’t about to take on this challenge, and she certainly wasn’t about to tell him why she would never again be teaching.

His hand came down over hers suddenly. His palm, roughened by hard work, set her skin tingling.

“I also know you’re warm and generous with kids, and they like you instinctively. And I know Sarah talked more to you in five minutes than she’s talked to anyone else in the two months she’s been here.”

She took a breath, let it out, then drew her hand away as Meggie splashed back up with her pail. Two months? Where had Sarah been before she’d come to the island?

“Sarah’s mother…” she began, then stopped, not sure she should ask the question.

“She died in an accident.”

A protective barrier screened his eyes, warning her away.

“Sarah is living with me now. And I want the best for her.”

A hundred questions bubbled up in Leigh, but she couldn’t ask them. Not of him, not now. Not when he was obviously dealing with a great deal of pain. Not when she had no intention of doing what he wanted.

“I’m sorry. Of course you want the best for Sarah, but I’m really not looking for that kind of a job. I’ve been filling out résumés because I hope to find something in another field by the end of the summer.”

“You’re leaving teaching?”

The question was like a knife to her heart. “Yes.” She could only hope the monosyllable would discourage any questions. She glanced at Mark and Meggie, who were sitting back on their heels, listening wide-eyed.

He looked down at the sand castle for a moment, his hand absently patting at its towers. Then he looked back at her. “That wouldn’t be a problem. If everything goes the way I plan, Sarah will be attending a residential school in the fall. Right now is when I need someone. You could still go for interviews, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Residential school…Her mind brimmed with objections that were none of her business. Since she had no intention of doing as he asked, she couldn’t interfere.

Doing as he asked. For a moment her treacherous mind toyed with the possibility of her working with Sarah, of her teaching again. She pictured that solemn little face smiling, communicating. She saw herself tapping into the energy and intelligence that hid behind Sarah’s deafness.

No. It was impossible, and even considering it would be opening herself up to the kind of emotional pain she had barely started to recover from. Not to mention the totally inappropriate sizzle she felt when she was near Daniel Gregory.

“Look, I just can’t.” She forced her voice to be cool and firm. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of the question.” She stood. “Come on, kids, we’ve got to get home. Gather things up now.”

Daniel stood when she did, still way too close. When she moved, his hand closed lightly on her wrist. The slightest movement would break the contact, but she didn’t move.

“Think about it.” He leaned closer, a breath away. “Think about it. We’ll talk again.”

Chapter Two

“Well? Get what you wanted?” Joe Phillips leaned on the registration desk in the ramshackle old house that was part home, part fishing lodge, his elderly face as weathered as the frame building. He’d come with the lodge when Daniel bought it and had long ago decided that fact gave him the right to know everything that Daniel did. He was the closest thing to family Daniel had, and it was good to have someone who was concerned about what happened to him and Sarah.

Daniel glanced at his daughter, watched as she put her doll to sleep in its cradle in the corner, apparently none the worse for her adventure.

“Not yet.” He took the glass of lemonade the other man held out to him. “But I will.”

Joe wrinkled his nose at that. “Don’t always get what we want. Not in this life.”

He stared down at the registration book, as if fascinated by the story it had to tell. Daniel knew what he was seeing only too well—there were eight rooms in the old lodge, but only three of them were occupied at the moment.

“I will this time.” Daniel drained the glass. The tangy liquid rinsed the salt taste from his lips. “I’ll get Leigh Christopher to watch Sarah, and we’ll get the construction finished. By the time the new bridge opens, we’ll be ready for the tourists.” He set down the glass and reached across the counter to straighten the bow tie Joe insisted on wearing when he worked. “We’re going to be rich, old man.” He glanced at Sarah. “Rich enough, anyway.”

Joe readjusted the tie to his satisfaction. “Don’t see how you can make the lady teach Sarah if she says no. Woman’s made up her mind. It’s like telling the tide not to come in.”

Daniel smiled, feeling confident for the first time in a long time. “This was meant to be.”

“Then why didn’t she say yes right away? Sounds like she knows her own mind.”

“Maybe I came on a little too strong today.” Daniel shrugged. “I’ll go over there tonight, apologize, ask her to help me out, just for a couple of days.”

Sarah was putting the doll to bed again, an endless repetition of the same action…patting it, snuggling it, loving it. He’d given up trying to figure out what it meant, but it broke his heart all the same.

“Once she’s been around Sarah for a couple of days, she’ll see how much Sarah needs her. She won’t be able to let her down.”

The way I did. The way Ashley did. The way everybody in her short life has done.

The only thing, the only person he or Sarah could rely on, was him. Not other people, not God. He should have learned that lesson by now.

He frowned out the window at the skeleton of the addition he was building to the inn. Sarah’s future. That was her security, and this time he wouldn’t let her down.

As for Leigh Christopher—something about that generous smile and tender touch told him she wanted to agree. So what was holding her back?

He puzzled at it, trying to imagine a scenario to explain the woman’s actions. Finally he shook his head.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what her reason was, because he wouldn’t give up until she said yes.

“We’re home,” Leigh called. She shook out the sandy beach towels and spread them on the gray deck rail. Josh and Jamie’s cedar shingle house nestled under the live oaks at the edge of the salt marsh, and the deck overlooked its constant changes as the tide pushed up the creek into the marsh, then receded.

“Home and hungry, I’ll bet.” Jamie held the kitchen screen door wide, welcoming her children with hugs. She wrinkled her nose at Meggie’s salty, sandy bathing suit. “You two get out of your swimsuits and wash up. And don’t forget to rinse out those suits. Supper will be on the table in a little while.”

Of course it would. Leigh looked at her sister, her affection mixed with both awe and amusement. Jamie had worked a full day at her accounting business and she’d still managed to beat them home and have supper cooking when they came through the door. High achiever had always been Jamie’s middle name.

“We found a losted little girl,” Meggie informed her mother. “And she couldn’t hear, so I spelled my name like Aunt Leigh showed me.”

“Lost,” Mark corrected his little sister for the tenth or eleventh time. “She was lost and she was deaf. So Aunt Leigh talked to her and then she found her daddy. We helped.”

“And her daddy wanted Aunt Leigh to come work for him, but she wouldn’t.” Meggie turned that direct blue gaze on Leigh. “Why wouldn’t you, Aunt Leigh? You could bring her here and we’d play.”

“Because I have other plans, pumpkin.” Leigh gave her talkative niece a hug.

“But it would be fun,” Meggie protested.

Leigh ruffled her hair. “Didn’t I hear Mommy say something about getting washed up? Hurry, and maybe we’ll have time for a game.”

“Chutes and Ladders!” Meggie shouted. “I’ll get it.”

“Wash first,” Jamie said.

“We will, Mommy.” Mark raced Meggie down the hall.

Jamie turned to Leigh, her blue gaze just as direct and inquiring as Meggie’s. Only, she was a lot harder to deflect than Meggie. Leigh’s heart sank. Jamie would not understand this decision.

“Think I’ll take a shower before the game,” she murmured.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “A deaf little girl. That must be Daniel Gregory’s child.”

“Now, how did you—That’s right, he said he knew you and Josh.” Leigh took a step toward the door, hoping to escape a discussion.

Jamie moved in front of her. “Come on, tell all.”

“It was nothing, Jamie.” Leigh suspected her sibling wouldn’t be convinced.

Jamie gave her a big-sisterly look. “Right. Now, tell it fast, before the monsters get back and drag you into that game you rashly promised.” She cast an affectionate glance toward the hall.

Leigh shrugged. Trying to evade her sister had always been worse than useless, whether she was playing tag or keeping a secret.

“You already heard it from the town criers. We found her, we restored her to her father, end of story.”

“Aren’t you leaving something out? How about the part where he asked you to work for him?”

“He’s looking for someone to take care of Sarah. I told him I wasn’t interested.”

Jamie gave Leigh her accountant look, as if Leigh were a doubtful number in a column of figures. “Not interested? Leigh, it’s a chance to work with a deaf child again. How could you not be interested?”

“I’m not going to do that any more, Jamie. Remember?”

Jamie’s mouth set stubbornly. “Well, it would certainly be a lot better than waitressing all summer while you look for a new job.”

“Jamie…” Familiar frustration welled in Leigh. She loved her sister dearly, but this disagreement was getting old. “Just leave it alone, okay?”

Her sister’s blue eyes looked as stubborn as Mark’s.

“I know it’s been difficult, but you’ve got to put it behind you.”

“I can’t.” The lump in Leigh’s throat was big enough to choke a horse.

“If you’d just try harder…”

Leigh shook her head. Jamie loved her, but she didn’t understand. “Please don’t bug me about this. I’m sorry for Daniel and Sarah, but I can’t get involved. I can’t do it.”

“So you’re going to throw away your training and go into some other field entirely.”

“Lots of people change jobs. It’s practically a national sport.”

“Not for someone like you. You have a precious, God-given gift. You can’t turn your back on it.”

A God-given gift. Was that really what Jamie thought her abilities with deaf children were? If so, it had turned into something closer to a curse.

“I have to do this my own way.” She tried to smile. “This time, big sister, you can’t make it all better, no matter how much you want to.”

Jamie studied her, looking as if she considered a whole series of arguments. But finally she nodded. She patted Leigh as if she were one of the children.

“All right. I won’t bug you about it any more now.”

Leigh started to turn away, but Jamie caught her hand.

“Just…pray about it, Leigh. Will you?”

Leigh closed her eyes briefly. Sometimes it seemed she’d prayed about nothing else in months.

“I will. I have.” She opened her eyes and smiled at her sister. “Now I’d better get showered. I have a shift at the restaurant tonight.”

Leigh took the narrow lane slowly as she came home from the restaurant. The island didn’t boast streetlights, and even longtime residents sometimes had trouble spotting their destinations in the dark, screened as they were by the lush, invasive vegetation. Live oaks lined the road, their veils of Spanish moss dancing in the soft Southern breeze, soothing her frazzled nerves.

No doubt about it; that encounter with Sarah had touched her heart. Too vulnerable for your own good. That was what her supervisor had said at their last meeting, and the words still stung. Yes, Sarah had found her vulnerable spot.

As for Daniel, the confrontation with him had raised a dragon she thought she’d already slain. Her decision had been made, she reminded herself. Daniel Gregory, with his proud eyes and his charming smile, couldn’t change that.

She pulled into the driveway, its layer of shells crunching under her tires. A strange vehicle sat next to Jamie’s elderly Toyota. She stared at the darkblue pickup for a moment, certainty pooling in her mind. Daniel Gregory had come. The man wouldn’t take no for an answer.

For a brief, cowardly moment she considered pulling right back out of the driveway. Then she got out, closed the car door and started toward the deck. Polite but firm; that was the line she had to take. Surely this time she could convince him that she meant what she said.

She crossed the deck and swung open the kitchen door on a homey scene. Josh, Jamie and Daniel sat around the scrubbed oak table, coffee mugs cradled in their hands. One of Jamie’s carrot cakes, half-demolished, sat between them. The three of them looked up as she came through the door, and for an instant they seemed allied against her.

Ridiculous. But the suspicion lingered, giving an edge to her smile.

“This looks cozy.” She let the screen door close behind her. “Mr. Gregory, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“‘Daniel.’” He half rose, then sat down again, his chocolate eyes assessing her.

“Daniel just dropped by,” Jamie said, the words a little rushed. The faintest flush tinged her cheeks. “Would you like some cake?”

“I ate at the restaurant.”

Actually, she’d managed to choke down only half a greasy hamburger, but Jamie didn’t need to know that. It was clear her big sister had been meddling again, and Leigh wasn’t about to encourage her.

“At least have a cup of coffee with us,” Jamie pressed, shooting a sideways glance at Daniel.

Her sister wasn’t being very subtle. “No, thanks. It’ll keep me awake, and I’m beat.” She stifled a yawn. “In fact, I think I’ll go to bed.” If Jamie had invited Daniel Gregory here to change her mind, Jamie could entertain him herself.

“Leigh, don’t. I…” Jamie sputtered, glancing at her husband for help, but Josh appeared to be considering sliding under the table. Poor Josh. His fair skin blushed too easily.

“Don’t go.” Daniel’s quiet words dropped into the fray, sending out circles of silence around them. He gave her a slow smile that packed enough heat to raise the room temperature. “I want to talk to you.”

“If Jamie called you…” Leigh began, but the sentence faded away. This wasn’t a sisterly squabble anymore. This was between her and Daniel.

“It doesn’t matter. I was coming over anyway.” That mesmerizing look would stop a rampaging gator.

“Please, Leigh.” Jamie found her voice again. “I didn’t mean to interfere, but if you’ll just listen to Daniel…”

“She might if we gave her a chance.” Josh took Jamie firmly by the arm, urging her from the chair, and sent an apologetic glance toward Leigh. “Why don’t the two of you go out on the deck.” He piloted Jamie toward the living room. “You can have a little privacy there.”

Daniel waited until they were out of the room, then held the kitchen door for her. He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Please?”

Leigh knew when she’d been outmaneuvered. There was nothing for it now but to listen to what the man had to say. Then she could tell him no in the most sympathetic way possible. She nodded stiffly and walked past him onto the deck.

Daniel followed her, letting the screen door swing closed. It shut the two of them into the quiet dark together.

She half expected him to plunge into speech, but he didn’t. He crossed the deck, leaned his elbows on the railing and looked out across the salt marsh that stretched beyond the house to the tidal creek.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Unwillingly, she joined him, trying to frame the words she’d use to tell him no.

The nearly full moon sent pale light streaming across the patchwork of water, sand and grass. Impossible to tell where the dividing line was between solid ground and liquid mud. Sounds reached them, a rustle, a splash, the cry of some night creature. Leigh shivered.

“Beautiful and dangerous,” she murmured.

“Yes.” He turned toward her, and the light from the kitchen window struck his face. It showed her one side—strong bones, stubborn jaw, well-shaped mouth—and left the other in shadow. “Look, I…there’s something I want to say to you.”

Leigh braced herself for the demand she knew was coming. She couldn’t…couldn’t…say yes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And thank you.”

She blinked. “What?” Where was the offer she’d steeled herself to turn down?

“Thank you,” he said again. His smile flashed, setting her skin tingling. The man’s smile should come with a warning label. “For finding Sarah today, for being so good with her when she must have been scared to death. Thank you, Leigh.”

The quiet words seemed to resonate, to carry more meaning than they should.

“It was…I mean, anyone would have done the same.”

His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t there for her. You were.”

Now the pain beneath the words slid into view, like a creature surfacing in the marsh, and she didn’t know how to respond. She suspected he wasn’t a man who let his private pain be seen easily.

“We can’t always be there for the people we love.” Her mind flashed uneasily to Tommy, to her own failure, then shied away. “No matter how much we want to.”

“No matter how much.” He repeated her words. The shadows of the salt marsh moved fitfully as a cloud crossed the moon. “I guess that’s my only excuse for putting you on the spot this afternoon. Pushing you to help with Sarah in front of your niece and nephew. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She could smile at it now. “They were pretty tough to get away from. It’s okay.”

“Now I’ve done it again.” He gestured toward the house, his expression rueful. “Involved your family. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Jamie called you, didn’t she?” A small flame of anger warmed the words.

“Don’t blame her.” His lips twitched slightly. “Elder sisters and brothers are what they are. Believe me, I know.”

“You have one?”

“I was one. The eldest, I mean.”

Something darkened in his eyes at that, and she sensed inquires about his family wouldn’t be welcome.

“I was coming to see you. Her call didn’t change anything.”

She wanted to argue, to say that Jamie had no right butting into her affairs, but that would probably make her sound about ten years old.

When she didn’t respond he turned back to the rail, where he leaned on his elbows. She seemed to have little choice but to do the same.

For a few moments they stood in silence, looking out at the moonlit marsh. Maybe he was concentrating on the view. She was too aware of the lean strength of his arm brushing hers, of the warmth that radiated from him.

“So,” he said finally, interrupting a chorus of frogs, “you like your job?”

The smell of grease from her clothes and hair made it impossible to say anything but the truth. “Not especially. But it’s only temporary. So I have some money coming in while I look for something else.”

She was digging herself into a hole. She waited for him to ask why she was looking for a job and wondered what she’d say when he did. But he didn’t.

“Guess that’s kind of where I am, too. Caught in a situation I don’t like.”

She glanced at him, but the strong lines of his face didn’t give anything away. “You mean Sarah?”

He braced both hands against the rail. “I don’t regret anything about having my daughter.”

“No, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s this way.” He turned toward her with sudden energy, as if he’d made a decision. “You know about the new bridge they’re building?”

The abrupt change of subject left her floundering. “Bridge?”

“Bridge from Athena Island,” he said, naming the vacation mecca from which ferries ran to tiny St. Joseph’s. “They’ve talked about building one for years, but now it’s really going to happen. When it does, I have to be ready for it.”

“Ready?” She felt like a parrot.

“I own beachfront property,” he said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Right now I just have a lodge—rent a few rooms to fishermen, the occasional tourist.”

“But when the bridge is built…” She was finally beginning to catch up.

“The bridge will bring tourists, and tourists want beachfront rooms. That’s what I’m doing. Building an addition that will double the number of rooms I have.”

Somehow that was the last thing she’d expected. She’d assumed, if she’d thought about it at all, that Daniel was probably a fisherman, like Josh. He had a rugged look she associated with working outdoors.

“So,” she said, trying to adjust her image of him, “you’re going to be the Donald Trump of St. Joseph’s Island.”

“Nothing like that.” He made an impatient gesture. “Just a small place. But enough to provide for Sarah. That’s why I’m doing it. I have to provide for Sarah, and that takes money.”

She remembered his words on the beach. “You want the money to send Sarah to school.”

“I need the money.” He leaned toward her, turning the full force of his personality on her. It was like standing in a hurricane. “I’m all Sarah’s got, and I will provide for her. That’s why I need you.”

She couldn’t turn away from the passion in his voice. “I…”

“I’m doing most of the work myself.” He swept on, not giving her a chance to respond. “Only way I can afford to do it. That means I work all day, every day. I have to have someone I trust to take care of Sarah.”

“What makes you think you can trust me? You don’t even know me!” No, it wasn’t a hurricane she felt; it was an undertow. And it was pulling her under no matter how she struggled.

“I saw you with Sarah.”

He stopped, as if that were all he needed to say. This strong, self-reliant, proud man stood looking at her with…not a demand. She could have handled a demand. A plea. He wanted—needed—her help, and he wasn’t a person who asked for help easily. The pressure that had been building from the moment she walked into the kitchen broke over her.

She had to answer him, had to say something. Despairing, she knew what it was.

“I’ll help.” She held up her hand before he could say anything. “I’ll help out, but only for a few days. Just until you can find someone reliable.” What was she letting herself in for? “I mean it…just a few days, no longer.”

Daniel clasped both her hands in his, and his warmth set her skin sizzling.

“You won’t regret it, Leigh. I promise.”

She already regretted it, but there was no point in telling him that. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Josh can tell me how to find you.”

“Right.” His fingers tightened around hers, then he released her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He turned away quickly, as if afraid to press his luck. “In the morning, then.”

In a moment he was in his truck and backing out the drive, leaving Leigh wondering just what kind of idiot she was.

You were going to tell him no, she reminded herself. You weren’t going to get involved. A moment of panic swept over her. How was she going to bear it? To get to know Sarah, to be teaching again, even for a few days—it would hurt so much to give it up.

Just a few days. Daniel couldn’t talk her into doing more, though he’d proved to be a master at getting what he wanted. He’d disarmed her with his apology, drawn her into his dreams for Sarah, put her in a position from which she couldn’t say no.

He was an impossible man to say no to. He was the last man in the world she had any right being attracted to. That had to stop.

A few days, that was all. A breeze whispered over the marsh, bending the grasses, lifting the hair on her arms. She shivered. If Daniel thought she’d change her mind, he’d underestimated her. Daniel and Sarah were going to be a minor detour in the course she’d laid out for herself; that was all.

Chapter Three

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.”

Chapter Four

Daniel let out a breath. He’d done it. He’d convinced Leigh to take care of Sarah for the summer. No matter what else happened, he’d begun to fulfill his promise to his daughter. She was going to get the best money could buy.

As for Leigh’s past troubles…He found he didn’t care what she’d done, as long as she was good for Sarah. He could go back to work with a clear conscience.

“That’s settled, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned toward the door, to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Settled?” He glanced at Leigh, saw her eyebrows arch at the question. “It’s far from settled.”

Was she backing out on him already? He swung toward her, and at his movement she snatched her hand away, as if she’d just touched sun-baked sand.

“If this is about the money, I’ll pay whatever the going rate is. You tell me.”

She looked offended. “It’s not about money.”

“What, then? You said…”

“I said I’d work with Sarah for the summer.” Her green-as-glass eyes frowned at him. “If I’m going to do that, and do it right, there’s a great deal more I need from you.”

The clock was ticking. If he didn’t get back to work soon, it would be time for Joe to leave. Daniel would have to quit work then to be with Sarah, whether he was finished or not.

“Is that really necessary now? I’ve got about two hours of work to finish today.”

That deceptively soft mouth set in a firm line. “I’m not a baby-sitter, Daniel. If I’m going to work with Sarah, I have to see her medical records, information from her last school, anything that will help me understand her.”

He shrugged, impatient. “I’ll round up the stuff and give it to you tomorrow, okay?”

Daniel had taken a couple of steps toward the door, when he realized she was shaking her head again. A reluctant respect for her tenacity swept through him.

“What?”

“We have to sit down together and talk about this.” Her tone sharpened. “Sometime soon. When you’re not in such a hurry. We need to develop a learning plan for her together.”

He resisted the urge to tell Leigh to handle it herself. She wouldn’t; he knew that much about her already. “All right.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “When do you want to get together? I need the daylight hours for working.”

“What about tonight?”

Tonight he’d be dog-tired from working all day. But it looked as if that didn’t matter.

“All right, tonight. It’ll have to be here, though. Joe leaves at six, so I have to be with Sarah.”

“Fine. I’ll come over around eight, if that’s not an imposition.”

He had a feeling there might be just a little sarcasm in those words. “Look, I do want to meet with you.” He gripped her arm to add reassurance to the words. “I just…”

Whatever he’d been about to say trailed off as her skin warmed beneath his fingers. A betraying flush rose in her cheeks. His eyes met hers…met and held.

He wanted to run his hand down her arm. Quickly, before he could give in to the urge, he stepped back. He couldn’t do this.

Leigh cupped her hand over the place where his fingers had been. Her green eyes darkened with confusion.

He cleared his throat. “Tonight. I’ll have all Sarah’s records ready.”

“Fine.” She seemed to be having the same difficulty with her voice that he was with his. “I’ll be here at eight.”

She spun and hurried out of the room before he could say another word.

Daniel went slowly down the steps in her wake. He couldn’t stand there thinking about the warmth of a woman’s skin or speculating about the softness of her mouth. He had to get back to work.

But he wondered—he surely did wonder—just what he was letting himself in for. Leigh was…he shook his head. Someone like Leigh was out of his experience. When Ashley left, he’d convinced himself he was better off alone. Looked like he needed to remind himself of that a few more times.

Leigh pulled the car into Daniel’s driveway that night and glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. She was right on time. She took a deep breath. Too bad she wasn’t ready to face Daniel Gregory again.

Those moments alone with Daniel in Sarah’s room today—how had they happened? One minute she’d felt nothing beyond a certain mild irritation with him. The next minute he’d touched her, and irritation had been totally washed away by the pull between them, a pull so powerful it frightened her.

And he had felt it, too. She knew it. He’d drawn away from her, looking as if danger signals flashed in front of his eyes.

Well, she wasn’t going to get that close again. She’d keep this on a strictly businesslike basis.

Leigh inspected herself as best she could in the rearview mirror. Given the fact that nobody on the island dressed up in the summer except for church, she’d done the best she could to look professional.

She smiled. Her former supervisor at the school in Philadelphia certainly wouldn’t consider a denim skirt and cotton sweater dressed for success. But on the island it was practically formal wear.

Somehow she suspected it was what she said and felt rather than what she wore that would either keep this situation under control or let it spin into something else. It was bad enough that she’d let herself be drawn into working with Sarah. It would be far worse if she let herself feel anything for Daniel.

For an instant her hands tightened on the steering wheel, and then she closed her eyes in a brief prayer—for wisdom, for detachment, for God’s will.

She opened her eyes. She was as ready as she’d ever be. She got out and started for the family side of the rambling old house. The other side, where the inn sign creaked in the breeze, was dark.

Daniel opened the door before she had a chance to knock.

“Leigh.” He stood back, holding it wide. “Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Maybe she was imagining the warmth in his voice. She certainly wasn’t imagining the fact that the professional chat she’d planned was going to be difficult when he looked so…appealing.

His dark hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and his skin glowed with vitality against the clear aqua of his cotton sweater. The wariness had vanished from his eyes, at least for the moment. He was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. So why did that make her nervous?

She glanced into the living room. Soft light from the table lamps spilled onto a sofa that was piled with colorful cushions. File folders covered the coffee table.

“Joe left some coffee for us. Okay?”

“Sounds good.” She visualized the two of them, side by side on that soft couch. “I can come into the kitchen…” A nice bright kitchen seemed somehow better for her peace of mind.

But he shook his head. “I’m all set up in the living room. Besides, I might not hear Sarah call from back there.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She wandered into the living room while he pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

He hadn’t invited her to look through the files yet, so she resisted the urge to flip them open, though her fingers itched to do so. Instead she moved around the room, wondering at it.

The furniture was old enough to be battered and not old enough to be called antique. Someone had made an effort to make the room appealing, painting the walls a pale cream and disguising mismatched upholstered pieces with bright cushions. Daniel’s handiwork? Or had his wife done that before she left?

She’d seen the photograph on the bookcase the moment she walked in the room. It drew her irresistibly. She picked up the heavy pewter frame.

The woman who stared back at her had been caught by the camera in the doorway of this room, hands out to the frame on either side. Dark auburn hair spilled in curls to beyond her shoulders, framing a porcelain, heart-shaped face. The woman’s eyes were lit with some emotion…was it love? Her parted full lips seemed about to speak.

“That was my wife. Ashley.”

Leigh winced at the sound of Daniel’s voice. The last thing she’d wanted was to be caught prying. She set the frame back in place, as if it was terribly important that it be exactly as it had been.

Then she turned to Daniel. “She was very lovely.”

Daniel concentrated on finding room for the coffee on the laden table. He didn’t so much as glance toward the photograph.

Did he keep it out all the time, a reminder of the wife who’d left him? Perhaps it had just been out since Sarah had come, to help her remember her mother.

“Yes,” he said after the silence had stretched on too long. “She was beautiful.”

He said it as though it didn’t give him much pleasure.

“When did she—” Leigh stopped, appalled at herself. She had no right to ask a personal question, not when she was trying so hard to keep this professional.

Daniel poured coffee into a cup and handed it to her, drawing her over to the couch. “Three months ago.”

He bit off the words, and Leigh was sure he wouldn’t say more. She certainly wouldn’t ask him.

He poured his own coffee, sat down and frowned at nothing in particular. “She was killed in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sorry for him, sorry for Sarah, sorry she’d brought it up.

“Ashley always wanted to be a singer.” Daniel’s voice flattened. He might have been talking about someone he’d never known. “When she left the island, she started taking singing jobs wherever she could find them. Every one was going to be her big break.” His fingers tightened on the cup, and she realized the apparent detachment didn’t exist. “She went head-on into a bridge abutment on her way back from a club job in Columbus.”

Tell me how to deal with this, Lord. I’m in over my depth. She sat down next to him, as if the mere presence of another human being might help.

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