Was she ready for that? Could she trust him not to hurt her the way Richard had?
She glanced up to see Titus looking at her with so much compassion and understanding. He knew about her past, and he didn’t think he needed to change her because of it, didn’t think that she had anything to be ashamed of because she hadn’t had a family.
And with Titus and Savannah, Isabella had learned, truly learned, what it’d feel like to be a part of a real family.
Yes, she realized, she was ready—very ready—for that.
“Thanks, Miss Isabella,” Savannah said, still hugging her tightly.
“You’re welcome,” she said, emotions causing the words to come out raspy and raw.
Though she knew Titus noticed, Savannah obviously didn’t.
“Isn’t this day great?” she asked. “The next thing is the parade and then I get to go to the bonfire and spend the night with my friends. The parade comes right by our house after lunch. You want to come watch it with me and Daddy? Rose and Daisy are gonna watch it there, and some other people, too. You wanna come?” she repeated.
Isabella looked to Titus, who nodded.
Please, he mouthed.
Her week had taken a marvelous turn for the better, and she said a quick but heartfelt prayer of thanks. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Thirteen
True love brings happiness, more joy than I’d have thought possible.
“Miss Isabella, look, it’s the football team! They’re always the last ones, and they always have lots of candy!” Savannah yelled.
The flatbed truck, decorated with the red, white and blue similar to the preceding vehicles in the parade, eased toward them on Main Street. Isabella heard some of the boys on the truck yelling to the crowd, but she could barely make out their words because the band had just passed, and the booming from the drums still reverberated in her ears.
“Look, there’s Dylan!” Rose and Daisy yelled, jumping up and down and waving their arms to get their big brother’s attention. “Dylan, throw us some candy!”
Dylan, wearing his football jersey like all of the other guys, pointed to the group and then encouraged his teammates to toss them plenty of treats. Sure enough, a bombing of Jolly Ranchers and bubble gum and other candies, tossed exuberantly by the Claremont High School football team, cascaded over all of them as they laughed. Savannah, Rose, Daisy and Abi alternated between scooping up the candy and stuffing it in their mouths.
Isabella couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun. Throughout the day, she’d learned that this was an annual ritual, the group gathering at Titus’s house to share a picnic lunch and then watch the parade. The lunch had been fabulous, with everyone bringing something to share. Titus grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, and all of his friends—Isabella’s friends, too, she realized—brought the sides, potato salad, deviled eggs, chips and a wide assortment of desserts that included homemade ice cream and chocolate chip cookies.
She’d felt good that she’d picked up a fruit tray from the local grocery before she arrived. It’d been something Richard had instilled in her, never to arrive at any gathering without bringing something to the host. But Titus shook his head when she walked in with the tray. “I didn’t mean for you to bring anything,” he said. “You’re still a guest around here.”
She’d smiled, handed over the tray and thought how she didn’t want to be a guest anymore. If he was really thinking about moving forward, she wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to be a part of this, and not merely on special occasions and holidays, but always. She wanted to be a part of Titus’s and Savannah’s life.
Titus and Brodie had walked to the front of the flatbed truck to say something to the driver, apparently another friend of theirs. Isabella watched Titus chat with the guy and laugh at something Brodie said, then turn and walk back toward her.
Savvy’s words from this morning continued to tease her thoughts.
Here comes your guy.
“What’s that about?” he asked as he neared.
“What’s what about?”
“That smile,” he said, tilting his head toward her face. “And that look, like you’ve got a secret. What did I do?”
She did have a secret, one she’d planned to tell him about, but now that he would open Nan’s box, she might never have to. And that thrilled her. “I’m just having a wonderful time,” she said.
He grinned. “Me, too. And we haven’t even seen the fireworks yet.”
Isabella couldn’t wait to watch the fireworks with him tonight. She loved spending time with Savannah, but she also looked forward to tonight, when she would attend the bonfire and they could have some time alone.
True, some of that time would involve him going through Nan’s things, but Isabella suspected that would show him everything that she’d planned to tell him, that Nan had loved him, and Isabella was glad that her friend would get the chance, through the things she left behind, to tell him herself.
“Daddy, the parade is over. I need to get my stuff for the bonfire and spending the night!” Savannah yelled.
“If she has her things ready now,” Dana said to Titus, “she can ride back to the ranch with us.”
“I have them ready,” Savannah said. “Can I ride with them, Daddy? Can I, please?”
“Are you really that excited about leaving me here all alone?” he asked.
She smirked. “You’re not alone, Daddy. Miss Isabella’s here.”
Savvy, standing a short distance behind him, winked at Isabella and mouthed, Told you.
Isabella managed not to laugh, but enjoyed watching Titus pick up his little girl and hug her. He said, “You know what, you’re absolutely right. You can go ahead to the ranch, but make sure you listen to the rules, okay? Be very careful around that bonfire.”
“I will, Daddy. Love you,” she said, hugging him before he put her back on the ground.
Then, instead of heading to the house to get her bag, Savannah rushed to Isabella and wrapped her arms around her. “Love you, Miss Isabella.”
She heard a soft gasp from Savvy and saw Dana’s hand move to her throat as they watched the interaction. Titus, however, merely smiled and nodded.
Isabella said a prayer of thanks as she returned Savannah’s hug. “Oh, Savannah, I love you too.”
* * *
Titus picked up the lawn chairs from the sidewalk while Isabella gathered candy the kids had missed when grabbing the tossed treats. He liked how natural this felt, the two of them cleaning up after their friends had gone. She blended so well in his world, which reminded him that she hadn’t yet officially moved to Claremont. “How long are you planning to stay at the B and B?”
She picked up a couple of Pixie Stix and tossed them in the canvas bag he’d given her for collecting the stray bits of candy. “I’d planned to stay there until I made up my mind whether this was the place I wanted to move to permanently. All of my things are still in my apartment in Atlanta, you know.”
He folded another chair. “Right, I knew that much already, but that wasn’t what I asked.”
“What did you ask, again?” She smiled as she grabbed a Tootsie Roll from the sidewalk.
He dropped the folding chair on the stack he’d started on the porch. Then he walked toward her to help her finish gathering the last bits of candy. “I asked how long you’re staying at the B and B, but what I really want to know is whether you’ve decided to stay in Claremont,” he said, picking up a green Jolly Rancher and dropping it in her bag. “I’d assumed when you took the job at Willow’s Haven that you’d find a place to live, move your things here, that type of thing.”
She stopped gathering the candy and looked directly at Titus. “I guess I was waiting to make sure.”
He dropped another piece of candy in the bag and sto
od still. He didn’t want to move away from her now. “Make sure of what?” he asked, so close to her that he could see her slender throat pulse as she swallowed.
“That Claremont had everything I was looking for,” she said breathily.
There was more to this conversation than her job at Willow’s Haven, and he was certain they both knew it. “And? Does it?”
She nodded. “I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be.”
He couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather her be, either. Or anywhere he’d rather be.
A car passed by, and a tap of the horn pulled them out of the moment and caused them to turn and see Jasmine Waddell slowing down, her window open and one hand waving. “Hey, Mr. Jameson!” she called. “Are y’all going to come watch the fireworks at the square? We’re giving away free ice cream at the Sweet Stop!” She’d slowed her car to a complete stop while she waited for his answer.
“I think we’re going to watch the fireworks from here, Jasmine, but thanks for letting us know,” he said.
She nodded and grinned as though she totally approved, and then gave him a thumbs-up before driving away.
Shaking his head, he turned to Isabella. “You sure you’re ready for life in a small town? There are no secrets here, you know.”
A look passed over her face that he couldn’t read, but then she nodded. “Yes, I’m ready. Actually, I think Claremont is exactly what I’ve prayed for.”
There she went, mentioning prayer again, and Titus felt he should say something spiritual, but he still wasn’t feeling it. However, his father’s words of inspirational advice had been at the forefront of his mind throughout the day, almost as much as his words of advice about opening the box and moving beyond his past. But Titus would handle the problems in his life one at a time, and he’d start with Nan’s box. “Well, I’m glad that you’re here,” he said, “especially today.”
“When you go through Nan’s things, you mean?” she asked.
He didn’t want that box—and not knowing what was in it—overshadowing what could be their first true time alone together. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. And I don’t see any reason to keep waiting.” He held his hand out, and she slid her palm against his. “Come on.”
She walked beside him to the porch as though she was as apprehensive about opening the box as Titus. And maybe she was. Unable to push aside the sense of dread at what was about to happen, he led her to one of the two wicker chairs at the opposite end of the porch from the swing and began second-guessing whether it was a good decision to have Isabella here. What if, after opening the box, he didn’t want to be around anyone? What if he needed time to process whatever was inside?
“Are you sure you want me here?” she asked, apparently running through the same scenario as Titus.
But the thought of her not being here was more unsettling than the thought of her beside him when he ripped the bandage off that old wound. Isabella gave him comfort, made him feel as though he could truly start living again, in spite of the pain of his past. “I’m sure.”
Then he went inside to retrieve the box. A moment later, he returned to the porch carrying the brown square that had plagued him the past seven days. Amazing, how something so light could press so heavy on his soul.
He set the box on the small wicker table between the chairs. Isabella reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.
“You ready?” she asked.
Titus examined the hospital address in the top left corner. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the tape away.
He opened the box, and the photograph that covered the other items hurled him back to the day the picture was taken...at their wedding.
“Oh, my,” Isabella whispered. “What a beautiful picture.”
“She kept our wedding picture.” Titus had kept the same photo on the nightstand beside his bed for over a year after Nan left, but then the memory hurt more than it helped, and he’d put it away. He hadn’t realized she’d taken a copy, and he certainly hadn’t expected it to be the first thing he saw in her box.
Isabella edged closer to peer at the photo of Titus and Nan on the beach, the sun setting in the distance as they pledged their vows.
Those promises echoed clearly through his thoughts.
I promise to love and cherish you, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.
He’d meant the words and kept his vow, even after she’d abandoned Titus and their little girl. Nan hadn’t. Yet she’d kept this photo. “Why did she keep this?” He lifted the picture and saw the second photo, as moving as the first.
A small gasp escaped Isabella as she saw the image of mother and child, the photograph of Nan and their baby girl. “Oh, look at Savannah.”
Titus remembered taking the picture in the hospital before they brought Savannah home. Cradling her, Nan smiled at the baby in her arms as though nothing in the world could make her any happier.
“You—you can see her love for Savannah so clearly,” Isabella whispered, conveying exactly what Titus felt.
Then reality set in. “But she left her,” he said. What had happened between the time he took this photo and three years later, when she walked out? “It doesn’t make sense.” He moved that photo to the table, placed it on top of the wedding picture and then saw another item in the box. A satin pink ribbon, tied around two rings that Titus recognized immediately. Her wedding set. Along the edge of the ribbon, in Nan’s handwriting, were the words, For Savannah.
Titus had wondered what she did with the rings after she left. Now he knew. And he still didn’t understand.
The next items in the box were composed of construction paper, finger paint and Popsicle sticks, crafts from Savannah’s Sunday school classes and vacation Bible schools. One had a tiny handprint in the center, a little smeared from where the teacher had obviously tried to slow the paint-covered palm of a busy two-year-old long enough to make the print on the page. Above the image were the words written by Savannah’s teacher:
Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy. I love you!
And then the poem at the bottom:
This is the hand you used to hold
When I was only two years old.
Titus’s throat clenched. Nan had kept the photos, her wedding bands, Savannah’s precious crafts and this tender Mother’s Day image. And the only thing left in the box, he realized, was her Bible.
Everything had to do with their marriage, their daughter, their love.
He had no answers for why she would have walked away from the things she had obviously still cared about. No answers at all.
His throat tightened so much it hurt. His head began to throb, and his heart pounded in his chest.
He started to lift the Bible from the box but stopped when Isabella’s tears fell onto his forearm. He’d been so immersed in his own emotions that he hadn’t realized she’d started to cry. He looked at her now and saw that the tears continued to fall, and the fact that the items in the box affected her as much as they affected him touched him deeply.
Titus wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, thankful that she was here with him now.
“She obviously loved you and Savannah,” she whispered, “very much.”
He nodded, having no choice but to agree. There was nothing in the box to point to anyone else in her life, and from all indications she had still loved both of them, enough that everything she left behind had to do with them and their love for each other. “I’d just hoped to learn something about why she left,” he said, his voice thick and raspy as his emotions were pulled in two different directions. Part of him was thrilled to learn that Nan never stopped caring about him or their little girl. But the other part wanted to know, if she’d still cared, why had she walked away? And why hadn’t she at least called when she’d known she was dying and let them say goodbye?
&
nbsp; Isabella wiped her cheeks, cleared her throat and then placed a hand on his forearm. “Are you okay?”
Again, he nodded, though he was more confused than okay. But he now had to agree with Isabella’s words. Nan had loved Titus and Savannah very much.
“Can I get you something?” she asked. “Maybe something to drink? I could make some tea.”
He truly appreciated her wanting to help him deal with the blow of still not knowing what happened. “Some tea would be great.”
She lifted the photo of Nan holding Savannah in the hospital before placing it back on the table and heading inside for the tea.
Titus also looked at that photo and at the wedding picture, and at every other item. Then he reached for the last thing in the box, Nan’s weathered Bible. And as he lifted it, he noticed several papers sticking out from within the pages. He placed the Bible in his lap and opened it to the first thick paper, which he now saw was an envelope, with a single name in Nan’s swirling handwriting in the center—Titus.
And once again his heart thudded solidly in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he withdrew the single sheet of paper from the envelope and began to read.
Dear Titus,
Hurting you was the last thing I ever intended to do. Sometimes, God gives us tough decisions to make, and maybe I made the wrong one. I thought I could handle anything, that we could handle anything, but I learned my limitations. Leaving you and our precious Savannah wasn’t something I’d have ever anticipated, but I also didn’t want you to watch what I knew would happen over the next months. Months that, as it turns out, have turned into years.
As I’m writing this letter, I know that my time here is nearly over. I can feel God calling me home. It has been almost three years since I left our home and walked away from the two people I love more than any others, you and Savannah. I never ever stopped loving you. I want you to know that. I didn’t think I’d be here this long away from you. But God kept me here longer than the doctors had thought possible, and for that I am grateful, because it gave Him time to answer my most vital prayer.
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