A Father for Zach. Irene Hannon

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      None of which were likely to be answered, Nathan conceded.

      Writing off the encounter, he smiled once more at Zach. “Hang in there, champ. It’ll be over before you know it.”

      “That’s what Mom always says.” The youngster heaved a resigned sigh and continued to shovel the cake into his mouth.

      “She’s right. It will still be daytime when this party is over. Maybe you can play with your friends later.”

      “I don’t have any friends.”

      Before Nathan could follow up on that unexpected response, the song ended and the little boy’s mother spoke in a soft but insistent voice.

      “Zach, come over here and let me wipe that sticky icing off your fingers or it will get all over your jacket.”

      The youngster speared the last bite of cake and shoved it into his mouth. Scooting off his chair, he trotted over to Nathan and handed him the empty plate. “Thanks a lot. That was good.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      He took the plate and watched the boy join his mother, she gave him another suspicious scan as she fished a tissue out of her purse and pulled her son close.

      Taking the hint, he turned away and strolled back into the crowd of guests. Still wondering why the precocious little blond-haired boy had no friends.

      And why the green-eyed beauty was so wary.

      “Mom! You’re gonna rub all the skin off my face!”

      At Zach’s protest, Catherine Walker eased off on the vigorous scrubbing she was giving her son’s cheeks and double-checked to confirm that the tall, brown-haired man with the slightly gaunt face had disappeared into the throng of wedding guests.

      “Sorry, honey.” She took one more swipe at a stubborn speck of icing that had somehow found its way to his eyebrow, then pocketed the sticky tissue.

      “How much longer is this thing gonna last?”

      “A while.”

      He huffed out a sigh. “That means a really long time.”

      “I brought a lot of books for you. And there are paper and crayons in the tote bag, too. Why don’t you draw some pictures?”

      “I’d rather go to the beach.”

      “I know. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”

      “Yeah. I guess.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and surveyed the wedding guests. “Maybe that man will come back and talk to me again.”

      “You know the rule about talking to strangers, Zach.”

      “He gave me cake. And he was really nice. Besides, he’s not a stranger. He told me his name.”

      “Just because you know his name doesn’t mean he’s not a stranger.”

      “You were right here, Mom. You could see me the whole time.” Zach gave her a disgruntled look and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the brick walkway. “I wish you weren’t so scared all the time.”

      Jolted, Catherine frowned at him. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious.”

      “What’s the difference?”

      He wandered back to his seat and began to poke through the tote bag, his apathy for her time-killing suggestions obvious.

      As her son withdrew a book and settled into his chair, Catherine pondered his question. What was the difference between caution and fear? Not much, she conceded. But she had good reason for both. Thanks to David.

      Her stomach clenched, and she forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Someday…maybe…she’d be able to think about him with joy instead of sorrow. But she wasn’t there yet. And after two years, she was beginning to wonder if she ever would be.

      As for Zach…she was sorry he was unhappy. And she sympathized with his plight. Being confined to a chair for an extended period was about the worst possible punishment you could inflict on a boy his age. In the past, David had watched him during her musical engagements, saving her son this agony. But David was gone. And she didn’t trust Zach with anyone else.

      Nor had passing up this job been an option. In her short time on Nantucket, the high cost of living had been an unwelcome surprise. She needed the money this gig would bring in.

      At a signal from the group’s leader, the string quartet struck up “Ode to Joy.” Scanning the crowd again, Catherine saw no sign of the man who’d spoken to Zach. That was good. Her trust level with strangers was zilch. Even ones who were guests at a lovely wedding like this. Because you never knew where danger lurked. Sometimes it was found in the most innocent of places. Places you’d assumed were safe.

      Yet…as an image of the cake-bearing stranger who’d befriended Zach flashed across her mind, she found it hard to believe he was a man to be feared. Particularly in light of that moment when their gazes had connected. She knew hers had been filled with suspicion, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d reciprocated with coolness or antipathy. In fact, that kind of reaction would have been okay.

      Instead, she’d been jarred by the hurt in his deep-brown eyes.

      All she’d meant to do was warn him off. She hadn’t intended to cause him pain. Yet she had. And that disturbed her. A lot. Causing pain was as unacceptable to her as letting Zach out of her sight.

      But it was too late to fix things now. She doubted he’d come anywhere close to them again today, considering the unfriendly reception she’d given his kind gesture. And there was little chance their paths would ever cross again.

      She needed to let it go.

      Catherine tried hard to follow her own advice, doing her best to immerse herself in the lilting, joy-filled strains of one of Beethoven’s most uplifting works. To focus on the happy faces of the guests enjoying a perfect celebration in a beautiful garden on this sunny, warm day.

      But somehow she couldn’t erase the image of a weary face that she sensed belonged to a man who had endured more than his share of hostile looks.

      Talk about dumb.

      In the split second it took for the gallon can of paint to slip from her fingers and smash into her toes, Catherine Walker knew her decision to pad around the house barefoot as she organized her remodeling supplies had been a huge mistake.

      And the sharp pain that shot through her foot and set off bright pinpricks of light behind her eyes confirmed it.

      Choking back a cry, she stared down at her crushed toes as the can rolled away. And came to the obvious conclusion.

      Her do-it-yourself remodeling plans for the B and B she was scheduled to open in eight short weeks were hosed.

      “What was that noise, Mom?”

      Exiting the main house, Zach skidded to a stop in СКАЧАТЬ