Noting that the boy, who looked to be close to Simon’s own age, had Down syndrome, Joanna prepared to caution her son to be patient, but she should have known it wouldn’t be necessary.
“It’s okay,” Simon told the boy’s father, who was hurrying over. “He can play with me.”
The dad looked at Joanna, the expression on his broad, ruddy face questioning. She smiled and nodded. “Let him play for a few minutes if he wants to.”
Accepting that his son had settled in, the man chuckled wryly. “Thanks. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind sitting a bit to catch my breath. Cody insisted I carry him on my shoulders all the way down the beach and back while my wife takes a nap. I’m Ken McGee, by the way, and this is my son, Cody.”
“I’m Joanna Zielinski, and this is Simon.” Setting her tablet aside, Joanna motioned for Ken to sit on a towel she’d spread nearby for Simon.
He accepted the invitation, settling on the towel with his legs folded beneath him. “You can play just for a few minutes, Cody, but then we have to go join Mommy for dinner, okay?”
Engrossed in a lesson from Simon on how to pack damp sand into a mold, Cody gave no sign that he’d heard his father, though Joanna believed he had. She and Ken exchanged a few remarks about the beautiful weather and the resort facilities. Standard stranger small talk.
Ken glanced toward the boys. “Your son is good with Cody.”
Watching as Simon helped the other child dump the mold and tap out the sand, Joanna smiled. “One of Simon’s friends at our church back in Georgia is a little girl with Down syndrome. He’s very fond of Michaela. She’s a sweetheart.”
Cody scooped a shovelful of sand and tossed it in the air, giggling when the sand rained down on him. Leaning back to avoid having a face full of grit, Simon looked wryly at his mother. “I think Cody likes demolition better than construction.”
Ken’s laugh sounded a bit
weary. “You can say that again.”
As if he realized how his words could be interpreted, he added quickly, “Cody’s a great kid. I—my wife and I don’t mind the challenges. Wouldn’t trade him for the world.”
“Of course not,” Joanna replied gently, trying to avoid the psychologist’s penchant of reading more into statements and expressions than the speaker had intended. “It’s obvious he’s a precious little boy.”
“He is,” Ken agreed with a more natural smile, though she still thought she detected signs of stress in his eyes. “And he’s been making great strides lately developmentally. I—we’re doing great.”
She merely smiled, pretending not to notice either the slip of words or the too-hearty tone. Nor his repetition of the word great.
Ken stood then. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go find Mommy. She’ll want to clean you up before dinner.”
“See you around, Cody,” Simon called after them, earning a wave of a chubby hand in return.
“You were very sweet with Cody, Simon,” Joanna commented, proud of her son.
He was already making repairs to his road and castle. “He’s like Michaela, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he has Down syndrome, which means he doesn’t learn things as easily as you do. But he still likes to play with toys and other children, so it’s nice of you to share and to be patient helping him.”
“Yes, it is.” Adam stepped into view from behind her, his gaze on Simon. “Cody’s become a favorite around here in the past couple of days.”
Joanna’s pulse rate sped up, and she realized ruefully that for all the time that had passed, she still turned into a smitten schoolgirl whenever Adam strolled into view.
CHAPTER THREE
“HI, MR. ADAM. I’m building a road and a castle.”
Joanna looked through her lashes at Adam, wondering how he felt about having his son call him “mister.” Whatever the emotions, he had them well hidden. “It’s looking great, Simon. Nice digger you’ve got there.”
“It’s an excavator. The boom is hydraulic,” Simon replied off-handedly before going back to playing, making impressively realistic sound effects.
Adam looked at Joanna with a raised eyebrow. She smiled faintly as she rose to greet him. “He likes to watch educational videos about construction equipment.”
“Yeah? You like heavy equipment work, Simon?”
“I like seeing how things are made,” Simon replied, dumping a load of sand from the bucket.