of the room softened around her. “Care for a drink?”
“No, thanks.” Leah wore a light-blue dress, belted at the waist and covered with cornflowers that seemed to emit a delicate fragrance. “I brought you something. Are the girls around?” She reached for her handbag.
“They’re in bed. I told them I was expecting a colleague.” He nearly touched her waist to guide her toward a chair but stopped in time.
“Good. I don’t want them involved in…whatever we have to discuss. But I’m sure they’ll enjoy these.”
From her purse, she produced two photographs. One showed India and Nick proudly carrying trays of snacks to their classmates. In the other was Diane pushing the red-haired girl in a swing.
She’d captured both children in moments of uninhibited animation. From his own frustrating attempts with a camera, Will knew how much sensitivity that required.
“I take shots of all the children on their first day,” Leah said. “Usually, I give them out at parent conferences, but I printed yours early.”
“I’ll treasure these.” No exaggeration required. “I should have brought a camera with me this morning.”
After Eileen had started to work for him, she’d rescued the girls’ photos and drawings from assorted boxes and drawers and assembled them into a family scrapbook. Will planned to add to it regularly.
“It’s more important to experience life than to record it.” Leah remained standing, shaking her head when Will gestured toward the couch. “Some parents are so busy viewing everything through a lens that they become emotionally isolated.”
Will remembered the father with the video camera, but didn’t bother to mention him. Instead, hoping to break the ice, he said, “My housekeeper left a coffee cake in the fridge. Would you care for some?”
“No, thanks.”
“At least, sit down,” he blurted.
“We’re not going to pretend this is a social call, are we?” Leah regarded him skeptically. “We both know why I’m here.”
“So we can put this behind us.”
She folded her arms. “Yes, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
The sarcasm raised Will’s guard. “Nice? I should think it’s essential.”
“Convenient, in any case,” Leah muttered.
Irritably, he realized she didn’t intend to simply shake hands on an agreement to keep silent. Then he remembered that he hadn’t yet apologized. “You have a right to be angry. I acted like a jerk.”
“Yes, you did.” Her taut stance eased by a fraction. For heaven’s sake, how had he transformed the welcoming, delightful lady from the Wayward Drummer into this tightly wound challenger?
“I’m sorry. I tend to be self-protective,” Will conceded. “A man in my position…”
“Which, as I recall, was with your pants around your ankles,” Leah quipped tartly.
Amusing as it was, the remark stung. “That’s true. However, knowing practically nothing about you, I had reason to be cautious. Under the circumstances, I believed you might turn out to be unstable.”
A wing of dark hair fell across her temple, partially obscuring her face. “Don’t insult me. You summed up your conduct just fine a moment ago.” She was evidently referring to the comment about acting like a jerk.
“We both screwed up.” Will considered. “May I be blunt?”
“Certainly.” The air in the living room crackled with renewed tension.
Will wished they could sit down and talk, but Leah still showed no inclination to get comfortable, so he forged ahead. “I moved here for a fresh start.”
“That’s why I went to Austin. Ironic, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “My divorce became final this summer and believe me, that marriage was a huge mistake, except for my little girls. I’m not ready for another relationship and I know it. Okay, I acted selfishly. I took what I needed, and you gave it. You have my thanks for that, but you made your own choice for what I presume are your own reasons. You have no right to hold me responsible.”
Her chin lifted. Will wished he weren’t tempted to cup it with one hand and soothe away the tiny distress lines crinkling her eyes.
For a moment, he thought he glimpsed something else in those depths. Disappointment, perhaps. And resolve. He got the sense that he’d missed some subtext to the conversation, but then, he’d never been particularly good at reading people.
“So that’s the bottom line?” Leah said. “You can’t be held responsible for anything, and you don’t want me intruding on your privacy?”
He didn’t like the way that sounded. Maybe he ought to suggest a compromise—perhaps that was what she’d hoped for—but if he backtracked, he was likely to be drawn into an involvement for which neither he nor the girls were prepared.
For heaven’s sake, Will was only human. He’d love to get close to this woman again. But the repercussions could be devastating, especially in such a small town.
“That about sums it up,” he said, and felt like a heel. The worst part was that he liked her more than ever.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Despite the strain in her voice, Leah seemed relieved. What was going on with her?
Her willingness to withdraw so readily bothered him, for practical as well as intuitive reasons. Although accustomed to being an outsider, Will hoped things would be different in Downhome, for his daughters’ sake. He certainly didn’t mean to alienate their teacher. “As for India and Diane…”
“What’s between us has nothing to do with them,” she answered sharply. “They’re wonderful children. I enjoy having them in my class, and I’m glad to see that they’re already forming friendships.”
Will was pleased, because he didn’t relish the prospect of trying to find another school, possibly many miles away. And he knew he wouldn’t find a better teacher. “That’s fine. They love being in your class.”
Leah glanced around edgily. She’d shown courage in coming here, Will reflected. This meeting must be, at least, as hard on her as on him.
He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn’t object, he took it in his, noting how small and firm it was.
Will had a sudden, inexplicable urge to protect this woman, but against what? Or, more likely, whom, if not himself? “I’m sorry it came to this,” he said. “You seem like a decent person. I guess we both acted uncharacteristically.”
When she faced him, moisture glinted in her eyes. “Yes, well, it’s a real mess, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily.” He didn’t see the problem, as long as both of them remained discreet and kept their emotions under guard.
She pulled away without making a fuss. “It’s important that we go our own ways and that nobody hears a breath about this. Not your housekeeper. Not anyone.”
“Okay.” Although he shared her viewpoint, he didn’t understand the urgency. The woman definitely had other matters on her mind, but they concerned her personal history. “Wait!”
She glanced at him inquisitively.
From an end table, Will fetched the marking pen he’d discovered in one of his pockets. “I borrowed this from your desk and forgot to put it back.”
Leah took it with a wry smile. “Always relieved to get one of these back. I buy writing utensils by the boxcar. Usually, it’s the kids who swipe them, though, not the parents.”
“A bad habit of mine, I’m afraid.”