Family Wanted. Renee Andrews

      “Savannah asked me to buy her fingernail polish,” he said. “Probably three weeks ago.”

      “I have plenty of polish. I’ll bring some tomorrow, and I’ll paint her nails in the morning when I fix her hair.”

      “That’d be great,” he said, still captured by the feel of her skin against his. Her thoughtfulness was never ending, as was her compassion for Savannah. And he believed she truly understood what Savannah was going through now, maybe even more than Titus. So he decided to ask her about what was bothering him most.

      “The guy from the hospital who called last week to tell me about Nan...” he started. “He said that he found my name and number in some things she’d left behind, and that he would be boxing those up and mailing them to me soon. Of course, he thought I was her brother because apparently she’d given the hospital the impression that she was single.” He didn’t want to spend any time analyzing that with Isabella. “But maybe there are some keepsakes in there that she’d want her daughter—our daughter—to have.”

      “Are you wondering whether you should give them to Savannah now or wait until she’s older?”

      Titus shook his head. “No. I’m wondering if I want to even see what she left behind. I started to tell him not to bother mailing it.”

      “Because...” she prompted.

      “She left us, Isabella. Walked out, leaving nothing but a note. I hate it that she got sick, that she died without us even knowing that she was in the hospital. But for some reason, she didn’t want us to know. She didn’t want to see me again, even when she knew that she was dying.” He blew out a steady stream of air, closed his eyes and then opened them. “Don’t you think that going through those things will only pour salt in the wound? And I can’t imagine it doing anything but hurting Savannah.”

      Isabella gently squeezed his hand. “Maybe there were things she wanted to tell you,” she offered. “Or things she wanted to tell Savannah.”

      “She had three years to tell us anything she wanted.” He shook his head. “I’ll be honest. I don’t want to go through her possessions. I’m done with the pain, done with the hurt. And I’m tired of seeing Savannah hurting because of Nan.” He glanced at her hand, still resting on top of his. “So I wanted to ask someone who could look at this objectively, in particular a female, since I’m guessing you’d know more of what I should do for Savannah. Should I open that box when it comes?”

      Isabella’s throat pulsed as she swallowed. “I don’t think I’m the one to answer that.”

      “But I’m asking you, and I want your answer.”

      “My answer is—” she let the word hang as she apparently considered the right thing to say “—that I think you should pray about it.”

      Definitely not the answer he wanted. Titus pulled his hand from hers and stood. “That’s the thing. I’m done with that, too.”

       Chapter Five

       I didn’t know how to tell you the truth...

      Titus had just left his house and started toward Willow’s Haven when his cell began to ring. He knew who was on the other end before looking at the screen on the truck’s dashboard. Only one person called at 7:30 a.m.

      Sure enough, Mom flashed back at him from the display.

      He didn’t have more than fifteen minutes before he would lose his signal when he reached Brodie and Savvy’s property, but he didn’t expect the conversation to take that long either. What could she say that she hadn’t said before?

      Glancing toward the backseat, he saw that Savannah was paying more attention to her doll than the ringing phone, but even so, he’d choose his words carefully, and he faded the sound to the front then turned the volume on the stereo system down to a minimum before answering. His parents had undoubtedly received the message he left for them last night, and now his mom wanted to try to make things better, the way moms do. Even though Titus would be thirty-one in a couple of months, she still wanted to fix things the way she had when he’d been Savannah’s age.

      Problem was, there was no way to make this better. Even so, he prepared to listen to her try and clicked the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hello.”

      “Oh, Titus,” she said, her voice filled with sympathy. “Your dad and I got your message this morning. We didn’t think to check the machine last night when we got home from church.”