Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,54
home she’d lived in all of her married life. For the first two years, he raised Molly alone and used on-base daycare. But once he got deployed, leaving Molly with Mom was the best option.”
“It’s obvious she loved her Nana.”
“Yeah.” He linked his fingers. “She would have been a better person to raise Molly through childhood and adolescence. The learning curve on this single-parenting gig is steeper than I expected—and knowing a child is relying on you for everything can be overwhelming.”
He looked over at her, and for one brief, unguarded moment he caught a touch of . . . tenderness? . . . in her eyes.
She cleared her throat and fiddled with the laces on her sport shoe. “I can’t begin to imagine what a challenge this has been for you. But from what I’ve observed, you’re doing a terrific job.”
Her praise warmed him—even if he wasn’t certain it was warranted.
“Thanks, but some days I—”
Molly shrieked, and he vaulted to his feet. Beside him, Jeannette scrambled up too.
False alarm.
His niece had gotten a bit too close to where the surf was breaking against a large rock, and the salt spray had rained down on her.
Nevertheless, it took a few moments for his heart to downshift.
“I think that’s our cue to exit. Those wet clothes will have to be changed.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Molly! Time to go.”
She swiveled toward them . . . hesitated . . . then plodded across the sand, Toby at her heels.
“You may want to have the leash ready.” Jeannette scooped it up and passed it to him surreptitiously. “If I distract your canine friend, you might be able to catch him off guard.”
“Good thinking.”
As the two approached, Jeannette got down on one knee. “Did you get wet, boy?”
Toby trotted to her, always up for an ear rub, and as she talked to him Logan snapped on the leash.
The instant it clicked, the dog realized he’d been had and let loose with an ear-splitting howl.
“Toby.” Logan fished a doggie treat out of his pocket and waited until he had the beagle’s attention. “Kunn hadyaan.”
The dog stopped mid-howl . . . sat on his haunches . . . and waited for the treat.
Jeannette stared at him. “What did you say to get him to do that?”
“I think it means be quiet in Arabic. It’s the command Thomma uses.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s more than that. It’s a miracle.” Logan rested his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes. It’s getting cooler, and your shirt’s wet. Besides, Thomma will be coming soon to work with Toby on the fence.” He held the leash out to Jeannette. “Will you keep a tight grip on this while I fold up the blanket?”
“Sure.”
His hand brushed hers as he passed the strap over, and despite the chill in the early evening air, a little spurt of electricity zipped up his arm, warming him to the core.
The slight hitch in her breathing suggested she’d had a similar reaction.
That could be a positive omen for the future—once life quieted down.
If it ever quieted down.
After dismantling the remains of their picnic, he fell in behind Jeannette and Molly as they took the lead on the return trip.
The two of them chatted during the entire walk, but Molly fell silent once they arrived at the lavender farm.
“I meant to ask you while we were on the beach—were you able to make any arrangements for tomorrow?” Jeannette dipped her chin toward his niece.
“Not yet. It’s my top priority tonight. Worst case, I can take her to the Shabos.”
“Will Mariam be up to babysitting tomorrow?”
“Probably not—but I’m keeping it as a backup plan.”
“I’ll tell you what . . . why don’t you let her come over here again? I’ll be home all day. I’m not set up for a dog in the house or the workshop, but I’ll be happy to walk Toby during the day.”
“I couldn’t impose again.” Much as he’d like to take the easy way out, if he overextended his welcome he might wear it out. “I don’t want to disrupt your work.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Please, Uncle Logan.”
“Sweetie, it wouldn’t be—” He blinked.
Wait.
She’d called him Uncle Logan.
That was a first.
All these months, she’d avoided calling him anything. While she’d referred to him as her uncle to other people, she’d never addressed him with that title.
Maybe they were beginning to turn a corner.
And if they were, he wasn’t going to jinx it by refusing her request—even at the risk of wearing out his