“When was the last time you took a leisurely, solitary walk?”
“I haven't taken a walk just for my own pleasure in...” He trailed off, brow furrowing, obviously trying to remember. “Years. Probably twelve.”
“Then you're long overdue.” She caught the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Pleased at their progress, Ivy made a little shooing motion. “Jewel and I will manage quite well. We’ll go outside for a little while in the opposite direction you’re heading. Give her a chance to move around in the fresh air. We’re going to work on counting next. By the time you return, hopefully, she’ll have some numbers for you.”
Because the skywas blue and the air smelled of pine and new growth and the lake glittered like hammered silver, Torin ambled. For the first time in twelve years, he didn’t have to keep eyes and ears focused on his daughter. He could stay out as long as he wanted without feeling obligated to Brian or Hank, even though heknewthey enjoyed spending time with Jewel.
He stood at the edge of the lake and watched a pair of swans glide past, their reflections perfect on the still water. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead. The mountains rose, white-capped and ancient, indifferent to the small struggles of the people at their feet.
This is what freedom feels like.The thought startled him. Torin hadn't realized how imprisoned he'd been—not by Three Bend Lake, which he loved, but by the relentless weight of being Jewel's sole protector. Then guilt assailed him for thinking about being a father as a prison. Helovedbeing Jewel’s father. Nor was he her sole protector. Just her primary one. But truly, keeping her alive and, not just well, buthappy, constantly weighed on him.
He stayed out for over an hour, walking farther around Brian’s end of the lake than he’d ever gone before, just to explore. Hiking up the mountainside about fifty yards, he found a long, low rock in a small clearing that provided a clear view of the lake, high enough to see over the trees to the three bends that gave their little valley its name.
He sat for a while, not thinking, just communing with nature. But then his dilemma with Ivy intruded on his peace.
He’d watched the patient, unhurried way she guided Jewel's hand on the slate. The way she praised each small attempt as though it were a marvel. The way she spoke to Jewel—not in the slow, exaggerated tones some people used with those they considered simple—but in a warm, natural voice that assumed intelligence and rewarded effort.
Ivy’s a good teacher.She's exactly what Jewel needs.
And that was the problem.
Last night, he'd looked up from his book and found Ivy watching him. Just for a moment—a heartbeat, no more—but in that unguarded instant, the lamplight had caught the soft curveof her cheek, the warmth in her brown eyes, and something inside him had turned over.
He'd felt it before, this treacherous pull. With Mary Beth, his interest had started the same way—stolen glances, a growing awareness of another person's presence in a room. He knew where it led. He knew the cost.A cost I’m not about to pay.
The cold of the rock penetrated to chill his legs.
As Torin stood, he saw a game trail heading in the direction of his home, providing a shortcut that avoided him having to follow the bends of the lake.I’ll be home in minutes.
He returned to the house, his cheeks stinging with cold and his spirit lighter. Once he removed his coat, he followed the sound of voices to the dining room and watched Ivy teach Jewel to count dried beans on the table.
“Ten!” Jewel announced when she saw him. “Pa-pa, I count ten!”
“You counted to ten?” Torin stared at Ivy. “She can count to ten? How did she go from three to ten?” The guilt came again—that he hadn’t really tried to teach her more numbers.
My daughter counted to ten!His Mongoloid daughter, whom the doctors said would never learn to speak more than a few words to communicate and master the most rudimentary skills. His daughter, whom Mary Beth had calledthat creature.
Perhaps, the doctors’ comments about her never being able to learn had constrained him more than he’d realized.
“She's been working very hard.” Ivy's smile was warm but careful. Obviously, she was still navigating the distance he'd imposed. “Jewel has a real talent for numbers, actually. Better than her letters, in some ways. Basic counting,” she nudged one bean toward him, “is tangible.”
Maybe that’s why I didn’t push numbers more, thinking she’d have the same struggles as with letters.Torin pulled out achair and sat heavily. “Show me, Sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough.
Jewel happily demonstrated, touching each bean and counting aloud. She stumbled at seven, saying “sen.”
“Seven.” Ivy gently corrected her.
Jewel carried on to ten without further error.
When she finished, Torin gathered his darling daughter into his arms and held her tight, gratitude filling his heart. Over Jewel's shoulder, his gaze found Ivy's, and this time he didn't look away.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Two words. Wholly inadequate. But Ivy seemed to understand everything they contained, because she nodded once, and her careful composure softened into something that made his chest ache.
The walk, Ivy’s patient and creative teaching of his daughter, and the joy of Jewel’s counting had faded Torin’s nightmarish fears. “I found a scenic spot to look out over the lake and, at night, provide a perfect view of the Northern Lights. Would you be interested in seeing them sometime this week? The air will be cold.”
