daughter. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was thinking about music and how …” There was no recovery from this, she thought as guilt swamped her. “I didn’t mean anything bad.”
“People like you never do.”
He wouldn’t understand, mostly because he didn’t want to. He assumed the worst about her and she seemed to do nothing but prove his point.
He began taking groceries out of the bags. She thought about offering to help, but knew he would refuse. Instead, she retreated to the living room and wondered if she should simply hire a nurse for Nicole and escape back to New York. At least there she fit in.
She sank onto one of the sofas and did her best not to cry. Why was everything going so wrong? How could she make things better? Because as easy as escaping would be, she didn’t want to be a quitter. She’d never quit. Not once—no matter how hard things got.
But this situation was impossible.
Amy walked into the room. Claire started to apologize for what she’d said, only to realize the child probably hadn’t heard her. Which meant she would have to explain why she was apologizing, assuming she could even get her point across. She sat there, feeling both stupid and awkward, not sure which was worse.
Amy didn’t seem to pick up on any of that. Instead she walked over to a bookshelf in the corner and picked up a large picture book. She carried it back to the sofa and handed it to Claire.
“You want me to read to you?” Claire asked, looking at the book. “Aren’t you too old for this book?”
Amy waved her hands to get Claire’s attention, then touched her chin. She motioned to her lips, then her eyes.
“See you speak.”
The words were spoken slowly, with exaggerated pronunciation.
Claire’s eyes widened. “You can talk?”
Amy raised her right hand and waggled it sideways, then held her thumb and index finger an inch or so apart.
“A little,” Claire said, feeling triumphant. “You can speak a little.”
Amy nodded. “My school teaches me.”
“Your school is teaching you to talk?”
Amy nodded. She pointed to her mouth again. “Lips.”
“And read lips?”
More nodding. The girl smiled. She pointed at the book. Claire opened it. There was a girl holding a book. Amy pointed at the girl, then made a fist and rubbed her thumb across her cheek.
“Girl” Amy repeated the motion. “Girl.”
Understanding dawned. “I get it,” Claire told her. “This is the sign for girl?”
Amy grinned and pointed to the book. She held both her hands together, as if she was praying, then opened them.
Claire repeated the gesture. “The sign for book?” Amy nodded.
Claire flipped the page. “This is so cool. What else can you teach me?”
WYATT WALKED into Nicole’s room with coffee and the bagels he’d brought.
“Hey, sleepy.”
She opened her eyes and groaned. “Hey, yourself.”
“How do you feel?”
“How do I look?”
“Beautiful.”
She winced as she pushed into a sitting position, then leaned back against the pillows. “You are such a liar, but thank you for that. I feel awful. I have to tell you, the drugs in the hospital are much better than the stuff you get at the pharmacy. Is that coffee?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you were allowed any.”
“So you brought it to taunt me?” She reached for the mug. “I’m supposed to take it easy and eat what sounds good. Coffee sounds like a miracle, right now.”
He set the tray on the nightstand, then pulled up a chair. After she’d taken her first sip and sighed with pleasure, he asked, “You doing okay with Claire?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? She’s staying away, which is my preference. Sid called my cell about a half hour ago.” She motioned to the small phone by the tray. “She went to the bakery this morning, apparently to help. He sent her away.
Instead she managed to run into Phil and dump a five-pound bag of salt into a batch of bread dough. It’s totally ruined.”
“How did that happen?”
“I have no idea.”
“She didn’t do it on purpose, did she?”
Nicole glared at him. “Probably not, but don’t you dare take her side.”
“Not my plan.”
“Good, because I’m not sure I could handle that. She’s even more useless than I’d first thought. She actually asked me about a cleaning service for her clothes. Apparently a few things are wrinkled and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. We should all have such problems. I hate her.”
“You don’t hate her.”
“I know, but I wish she’d go away.”
So did Wyatt. As it was, he was keeping his distance. The last thing he needed was another raging fire keeping him up at night … in both senses of the word.
Why her? Why couldn’t he have chemistry with someone else? Someone normal? Someone like Nicole? His body sure had a sense of humor.
Nicole glanced at the clock. “Where’s Amy?”
“Downstairs with your sister.”
“Check her before you leave. Who knows what Claire might do to her.”
“I’ll make sure she’s in one piece.” He stood and crossed to the bed, then kissed Nicole on the top of the head. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Come right away if you see smoke rising in the sky.”
“Promise.”
He went downstairs. As he entered the living room, he heard laughter. Amy sat next to Claire, watching intently as Nicole’s sister carefully signed the story in the picture book on her lap. Her movements were studied, but she got all the words right. When his daughter signed the word good, Claire laughed again.
“You’re a good teacher,” she said slowly.
Amy signed, “Good student.”
