Little Girl Lost. Marisa Carroll

to nibble on the cookie. Caitlin shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth. “Good?”

      “Very good.” He lifted one hand and smoothed it gently over her hair. “Thank you, Caitlin.” Faith went all shaky inside. It looked so right somehow, Hugh holding her daughter in his strong, tanned arms.

      He put Caitlin down and she raced through the archway into the dining room, where they never ate, but where she kept many of her larger toys.

      Silence stretched between them, and it made her nervous. She returned to the subject of family because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “You mentioned a half sister, I remember. Do you come from a large family?”

      He grew very still. “My parents are dead.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      He nodded shortly. “Beth is my only sibling. She’s twenty.”

      “Beth? Is it short for Elizabeth?”

      “No, just Beth.”

      A little shiver skittered across her nerve endings. She could never hear that name without associating it with Caitlin’s sad and pretty mother, especially when she had just been thinking of her such a short time ago. “It’s…it’s a pretty name. Are you close?”

      “As close as she’ll let me get.” This time she didn’t imagine the pain in his voice. It was raw and real. “She’s got a lot of problems right now, both physical and emotional. She was in a bad accident some time ago. It’s been a long road back. I wasn’t there for her when I should have been and now…”

      “And now she won’t let you be there for her?” Another Beth. Another accident. Another stinging memory evoked.

      “Not as much as I want to be.”

      “I’m sorry.” Impulsively she laid her hand on his arm and immediately wished she hadn’t. His skin was warm as sunlight. The feel of rough hair and the solidness of bone beneath her fingers reminded her that she was a woman who had been alone for three years. “I know it’s none of my business but perhaps, it would be better if you spent the next few weeks with her instead of remaining here.”

      “She’s in Texas. I need to be available to the architect in Cincy on two hours’ notice, or I would go home.”

      “She has no one else?”

      “Her father.” His brows drew together in a scowl. “My stepfather is living, but he and Beth are estranged.”

      “I see.” His expression warned her not to inquire further. “You could bring her here.” She spoke the words without thinking.

      He looked down at her hand, then lifted his gaze to hers. He watched her for a long moment, his eyes as shadowed as the stormy sky had been. “You mean that, don’t you?”

      “Of course I do. This place brought me comfort and peace after Mark died. It might do the same for your sister.”

      “Comfort and peace. She could use both of those.”

      “She would be most welcome.”

      He leaned closer and Faith felt herself drawn to him as though by an invisible magnet. He reached out and she held her breath certain that he meant to touch her cheek or even to take her in his arms. But she was mistaken. Hugh let his arm fall and took a step backward, leaving Faith feeling chilled. He was silent a long time, then his jaw tightened and he gave a short, sharp nod, as though coming to a decision that had been difficult to make. “You’re right, Faith. I think it’s time I brought Beth to Painted Lady Farm.”

      HUGH PROPPED HIS FEET on the knee-high, stone wall that bordered the tiny patio behind his cabin and leaned back in the red metal lawn chair, slouching down far enough in the seat to rest his head against the round back. It was getting to be a habit sitting out here at twilight. The only other guests, a middle-aged couple in a car with Michigan plates staying in the unit next to his, seemed settled in for the evening, and he had the place to himself. He looked up at the faint scattering of summer stars. Off in the west the last of a glorious orange-gold sunset had faded into purple and gray. The storms of the afternoon had passed off to the north and east, taking some of the humidity from the air.

      He’d been sitting in the same spot for the past hour observing Faith go about the business of closing the greenhouse. He’d watched as a tall, dark-haired man and two small boys in a pickup had driven down the lane and walked to the edge of the cornfield with her. He could hear the boys whooping and hollering in the backyard, running up to the pond to throw something into the water, then scurrying back down the bank. Caitlin had followed close on their heels, her small legs pumping to keep up.

      Faith had called out a warning to the boys and obediently they had each taken Caitlin’s hand and led her back to her mother. Faith gathered the toddler into her arms. She’d waited, cuddling her daughter, as the boys ran off again, and the man waded into the rows of new corn to check for damage. Steve, the brother-in-law, Hugh had decided, and the boys would be his stepsons, Faith’s sister’s children.