“Because my mother died when I was twelve, and he’s the only family I have,” she answered simply. “He would probably adjust quite well if I severed all ties between us, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to be completely alone.”
Gideon had his mother and his siblings. Whether he professed to be close to them or not, she had already recognized the bond he felt with them. He was the one who couldn’t understand what it was like to have no one at all.
“I’m hungry,” she said abruptly, reaching for her crutches. “I think I’ll go make a sandwich. Do you want me to make one for you while I’m at it?”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry. But why don’t you let me make you a sandwich? You don’t need to be—”
“Thank you, but I would rather do it myself,” she interrupted firmly. “I need the exercise.”
She hobbled out of the room before he could argue further. This time his clumsy attempt at solicitude had failed to charm her.
Chapter Six
Gideon was still thinking about the things Adrienne had let slip when he parked in front of Isabelle’s school a short while later. It sounded as though her relationship with her father was as tangled and painful as his had been. If so, she needed to find the courage to cut the cord if she was ever going to be happy.
He’d figured out quite young that he couldn’t spend his entire life trying to fulfill someone else’s expectations. Shortly after that, he’d learned the hard way that having expectations for anyone else inevitably led to disillusionment and disappointment.
His solution had been to pretty much cut himself off from everyone. He didn’t try to please anyone else, and he didn’t expect anyone to do otherwise for him. When he was in the mood for company, he found it—no strings, no promises, no expectations. When he wanted to be around family, he had his mother and Nathan nearby, and Deborah, during her infrequent visits home.
Isabelle was a new element in his family mix, but he was adapting to her well enough. He had actually grown quite fond of her, as much as he allowed himself to care for anyone. He could give a hand with her this time without entangling himself in any long-term obligations.
His way was working out very well for him. He didn’t describe himself as a happy sort of guy, but he supposed he was content enough. Adrienne could take a few lessons from him, he told himself with a touch of superiority.
Parents who had arrived at the same time as Gideon to collect their offspring nodded greetings to him with a combination of curiosity and wariness when he entered the school. He knew his reputation around town—the reclusive, often surly son of the man who had caused the biggest scandal to hit this area in decades.
Inclined for those reasons not to like him, the locals were still rather impressed that he’d become a noted author. The people of this town didn’t want to totally alienate Gideon—just in case he ever became really famous, like John Grisham or some of those other Mississippi celebrities.
He found the situation rather amusing, though he made no effort to play any social games with them. He had yet to accept any invitations to speak to local writers’ groups or civic clubs. Anything he had to say, they could find in his books.
Isabelle waited for him in her classroom, her little purple backpack strapped in place, her expression somber. She reached out to take his hand, and he thought she clung to him somewhat more tightly than usual.
“She’s been awfully quiet this afternoon,” her teacher confided in a stage whisper. “I don’t know if she’s tired or not feeling well, but you might want to keep an eye on her this evening.”
The possibility that Isabelle could be ill was enough to strike fear into him. What the heck did he know about taking care of a sick kid? He was already dealing with an injured agent.
As Adrienne’s rental car had been taken out of commission, he’d brought his truck. The booster seat had been retrieved from the wrecked rental, so he hoisted Isabelle into it and made sure she was safely strapped in before he climbed into the driver’s seat and fastened his own seat belt. Only when they were on the road toward his house did he find the nerve to ask the uncharacteristically silent child, “Aren’t you feeling well, Isabelle?”
“I feel okay.”
Her tone was so dispirited that he felt his jaw tense. “Uh, is something else wrong? Anything you want to talk about?”
“No.” She looked out the passenger window, and he was suddenly struck by her resemblance to their father.
It wasn’t just that she had their father’s coloring, though, like Nathan and Deborah, Isabelle was blond, fair-skinned and blue-eyed. Gideon had inherited his mother’s brown hair and deep-green eyes, which had always made him feel somewhat like a dark changeling among his fair siblings. At the moment it was Isabelle’s expression that reminded him so forcibly of Stuart McCloud—a set, inscrutable mask that effectively concealed anything she might be thinking or feeling. He’d been told he most resembled his father when he unconsciously assumed that same expression. It was particularly disconcerting to recognize it in his four-year-old half sister.
They made the remainder of the drive in silence. Gideon supposed he should try harder to find out what was bothering Isabelle, and he might have done so, had he not had the advantage of knowing Adrienne was waiting for them. Adrienne would probably know just what to do to find out what was bothering Isabelle, and then just what to say to make everything all right again.
Adrienne was as bewildered by Isabelle’s behavior as Gideon had been.
“Something is obviously wrong,” she murmured to Gideon late in the afternoon. “She hasn’t said half a dozen words since she got home from school, and that is just so unlike her that I can’t help but worry.”
Frowning in frustration, Gideon pushed a hand through his hair. “All she wants to do is sit in the den and watch TV. She didn’t even want a snack, though I offered ice cream, her favorite food.”
“She must be coming down with something. Maybe you should call your mother or your brother.”
“And tell them what? That Isabelle’s too quiet? No fever, no complaints of pain, no other symptoms of illness, how are they supposed to know what’s wrong? And I can’t e
xpect Mom to leave her sister, or Nathan to cut his honeymoon short, just because Isabelle’s unusually subdued.”