A Father's Promise. Marta Perry

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.”