She had never even been in his home before, she suddenly realized, turning to look at the room around her. It didn’t take her long to find Sam’s room. The door was open and Sam was on the bed, holding a stuffed monkey and looking at a picture book. He looked up without smiling. “Is
my daddy gone?”
“Yes. He’s gone to take care of your uncle Trent.” She sat lightly on the edge of the bed, facing him. “He’ll be back as soon as he can.”
The boy’s lip quivered. “My mommy didn’t come back.”
His barely audible murmur broke her heart. “Your daddy will come back, Sam. I’m sure of it.”
He seemed to take reassurance from her promise.
“In the meantime,” she added bracingly, “you and I are going to take care of Abbie. D’you think we can handle that?”
Straightening his narrow little shoulders, he nodded. “I’ll help you,” he assured her. “I know what to do.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Because I’m new at this.”
A bit tentatively, Sam set the book aside and moved closer to Jamie. She reached out to him, and he burrowed himself into her arms. Holding him close, she rested her cheek on his soft blond hair and felt herself fall helplessly in love all over again.
TREVOR’S HOUSE was quiet when he entered it five days later. He was home several hours before he’d planned to be, since he’d managed to catch an earlier flight than he’d expected. He had looked forward to being greeted by Jamie and the children and was disappointed that they weren’t here.
Running a weary hand through his hair, he wandered into the kitchen. Funny how he could almost feel Jamie’s presence in his home, even though she wasn’t here at the moment. During the hellish days that had just passed, he had derived comfort from imagining her here. And he had decided then that he would do everything in his power to put things right between him. He wanted her, and he needed her. Come hell or high water, he was going to get her back.
He was ready to take the risk of loving her.
There was a note on the refrigerator, he observed immediately. Only one word was written on it, in bold letters, in red crayon: Pool.
She had left him a message, he thought with a faint smile. Just in case he came early. Jamie Flaherty’s own special brand of optimism. Only lately had he realized how much he had grown to depend on it.
He walked the few blocks to the pool. Though it was hot, he needed the fresh air to clear away the memory of hospital scents from his mind. Tension still tightened his shoulders—it would be a while before that eased completely—but it felt good to be home.
To his relief, there weren’t many people at the pool. The young lifeguard, with whom Trevor had had a long, firm talk after Sam’s near tragedy, straightened in his elevated chair when he recognized Trevor.
Trevor immediately spotted Jamie in the pool, her hair wet and slicked back from her face. She had one hand on the molded plastic seat in which Abbie floated happily, and she was talking to Sam—who, Trevor was surprised to notice, was standing waist-deep in water beside Jamie. He was even more astonished when, acting on Jamie’s instructions, Sam put his face in the water, kicked off and swam three or four feet in exaggerated, splashing strokes. He sank then, but came up laughing, dripping, and wiping water from his face with both hands.
This from the boy who didn’t even like to have his hair washed for fear of getting water in his eyes?
It was Sam who spotted Trevor first. His wet face lit up. “Daddy! Did you see me? I swam.”
“I saw you. You were great, Sam. When did you learn to do that?”
“Jamie taught me. She used to be a lifeguard.”
Jamie had already lifted Abbie out of the floating seat. Holding the dripping baby on her hip, she carefully climbed the steps out of the pool. She approached Trevor with a smile, Sam at her heels. Seeing Trevor, Abbie squealed and held out her hands. “Daddy!”
Paying no heed to his travel-wrinkled shirt and chinos, he gathered his daughter close and eagerly accepted her slobbery kisses. This, he thought as Sam grabbed on to his leg and hugged fervently, was exactly what he had needed. “How’s my princess?” he asked, nuzzling Abbie’s warm cheek. “Did Jamie teach you to swim, too?”
“No,” Sam said, gazing up at him. “But she walked. All by herself. Without holding on to anything.”
Trevor lifted an eyebrow in Jamie’s direction. “It sounds as if I’ve left my children with Mary Poppins.”
She smiled, though he couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes. “Not exactly. I have experience teaching swimming, and Abbie was definitely ready to walk, anyway.”
He was having to make an effort to keep his eyes focused on her face, rather than the expanse of skin revealed by her hot-pink bikini. He was aware that a hug from Jamie was the only thing missing to make his homecoming complete, but the way she stood let him know that was unlikely. Though she hadn’t hesitated to come through for him when he’d needed her, he still had a long way to go to win her forgiveness.
He would not accept that she might never grant it to him.
She reached for her cover-up and pulled it over her head, to Trevor’s mingled regret and relief. “How was Trent when you left?” she asked.