Heath whimpered, kicking his little legs into his father’s side.
“Heath,” Mark said sternly, jolting from being kicked.
“May I help?” Layla offered, moving a step closer to the father and son.
Mark shot her a warning stare and swiftly answered, “No.” But the baby continued kicking and hollering. It was clear Mark was not managing very well, and the help he claimed to assist him was nowhere in sight. Tentatively, Layla took another step toward them and was now positioned in the doorway of the house, too.
“Mr. Flint,” Layla said softly, reaching out to touch Mark’s arm. “Try repositioning your hand so that it cups the baby’s bottom.” Gently, she moved his free hand in that. “Good,” she said patiently. “Now, move the baby closer to you, holding him snugly against your chest.” Mark eyed her suspiciously but did as he was instructed. She felt relieved to see that he was doing as she asked. He had been dismissive before; she had not anticipated him taking her help now.He must be desperate for assistance, Layla thought.
“Now,” Layla touched little Heath’s hands. Using the greatest of care, she moved the baby’s tiny fingertips so that they brushed against the day-old stubble that was smattered along Mark’s jawline. As the baby grazed the whiskers on his father’s face, his distemper quieted.
“H-how—” Mark stammered, clearly trying to find the words to ask Layla what she had just done. “How did you do that?” Mark looked at her, and she could see how his dark eyes had widened marginally.
Layla patted Heath’s back, using a slow circular motion with her hand. She kept her voice quiet. “I have experience working with the blind. The smell and touch of familiar people will soothe the baby. Because he cannot see you, his other senses must be activated.”
Mark’s eyes darted from his now quiet and content child to Layla. She was still standing very close to the two of them, and up close, she could see that he wasn’t as hard as he had appeared moments before. Clearing her throat delicately, she removed her hand from Heath’s back and took two steps away from the father and son.
“You say you have experience working with blind people,” Mark said, keeping his gaze fixed solely on his son. “How did you come to acquire such skills?”
“My mother developed an illness when she was a teenager and struggled with her eyesight for the rest of her life. In her final years, she was struck utterly blind.” Layla looked off into the distance, thinking of her dear mother.
“Well …” Mark seemed at a loss for words. “I am sorry to hear about your mother,” he said glumly. She could tell that he had softened by degrees. “Thank you, Miss Fitzpatrick.” He glanced back down at Heath, still leisurely moving his hands about his father’s face. “For showing me what to do.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Flint. I’ve had the pleasure of working with children at my church, and I find making them feel safe and secure makes me feel the same way. And …” Layla hesitated. She nervously brushed a lock of hair away from her face.
Now that Mr. Flint was in a better mood, she thought it might be a good idea to bring up her proposal once more, but she couldn’t be sure. She got the feeling that his temper could change without notice and didn’t want to excite his anger once more. Biting her lower lip, she tried to decide the best course of action. “Mr. Flint, I am hoping that when I leave, you will consider the offer I made earlier, as even though you initially refused it, I think you will come to see that it is a beneficial deal for all of us.” She looked at baby Heath and tipped her head sympathetically.
Mark nodded thoughtfully. “I will think over your offer, Miss Fitzpatrick. Now, good day to you.” He took another step back into his home, holding the baby more pleasantly.
“Thank you, Mr. Flint. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Good night, Heath.” She nodded at Mr. Flint, too. “And good night to you too, Mr. Flint.” She smiled kindly as he nodded his head once more.
Layla swiftly walked away. “It’s what I must do,” Layla whispered to the twilight that was beginning to close in around her. “I must make this sacrifice.” As she headed toward home, she pondered whether Mr. Flint would find her proposal acceptable. She feared he would not, and that was perplexing. What would she and her father do if he didn’t accept her offer?
Chapter Four
Before closing the door entirely, Mark took a moment to watch Layla Fitzpatrick as she walked away. She was a small woman, and Mark vaguely wondered at her age.
Can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen,he surmised, noting the way her head swiveled around her, watching out for dangers that might come across her path as the sun set and darkness threatened.
Mark shut the door firmly and returned to his sitting room. As he took Heath to the cradle positioned next to the armchair, he reconsidered. Awkwardly, he folded himself into the sturdy chair, trying to keep Heath close to him while moving.
“And she knew what to do with you,” Mark whispered quietly to his son.
Heath’s tiny fingers moved about his face, and he marveled at the way a small smile broke out onto his son’s thin lips. Little Heath wobbled his head slightly and laughed, a perfect sound that broke the house’s silence.
“Did I say something funny, son?” Mark asked, using a silly voice that he didn’t even know he possessed. Heath giggled again, and Mark hugged his son to him. With his calloused fingertips, he rubbed the length of Heath’s head, feeling the soft brown curls wrap around his fingers. “I think your mother would have liked to have seen this … but she left,” Mark said softly, lowering his chin so that Heath could reach out and grab it more easily.
Images of Trudie invaded Mark’s happy thoughts, and he became bitter at once. “I donotwish to marry again.” Heath giggled once more, catching Mark off-guard. “You think I’m being foolish?” he asked his son. Heath nuzzled into his father’s chest and put his delicate cheek against the worn flannel fabric of Mark’s work shirt. “No, son. This is not folly.” He thought of Trudie and how her brown hair curled at the ends like Heath’s. “I do not wish to marry again.”
Mark shifted in his chair, trying to make his son more comfortable in his arms, and continued speaking quietly to him. “My reputation is everything. It took a hit when your mother up and left, but now …” He paused, thinking through what he really meant. “Now, I can’t afford to appear foolhardy. I stand to make a great deal of money that young woman’s father and his errors in judgment. If I wipe away Mr. Fitzpatrick’s debts just like that,” —he swept his freehand in front of them as if he were moving aside a pile of coins— “people would say I’d gone soft. They’d think I’d fallen in love with that young woman, and they’d think …”
He stopped himself from proceeding in that line of thinking. He had no intention of falling in love again. It did not matter one iota that Miss Fitzpatrick was an attractive young lady. She also seemed to be courageous, too, as he assumed that she’d offered him her hand in marriage without her father’s permission; otherwise, Ol’ Emmett would have been on his front porch standing next to his daughter.
Mark hummed quietly to his son, and Heath snuggled deeper into his father’s chest. Mark was so content now that ideas of marriage and what the townspeople thought of him fled from his mind.
***
The following morning, Mark awoke before the moon disappeared and the sun had taken its place. For the first time in ages, Heath slept soundly, and Mark had not awoken multiple times throughout the night. He silently thanked Miss Fitzpatrick again for her goodwill and swung his legs out of bed.
