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She tilts her head to the side. Sasha always seems to take time to consider her answers. When she finally nods, I take her hand and wander through the crowd with her, making my way to Mr. Reynolds' study. When we're inside, I fish the sketchpad out of the top drawer. I find a box of crayons inside an end table, and I've got everything we need.
I sit on the floor next to her and spread out the materials. Then I snag the box and begin scribbling right next to her. "Look, I'll draw with you. It'll be fun. Just don't make fun of my work."
She giggles. I smile widely and scoot closer to her. "You're really talented, Miss Sasha. Do you do this a lot?"
She points to the elephant on the page. "Yes. I love to draw. Look, I made her a scarf. Elephants like pink."
"That they do. Do you think she'd like a fancy dress?"
Sasha makes a strange sound and covers her mouth. "Of course! Girls like fancy things."
"I can't argue with that."
Her little face turns serious, and she sighs. "She wants a baby sister. One to dress up all the time and make fancy cakes for. But her Mommy never made her one."
Her words stun me, and I'm not sure how to react. Her thoughts are filled with so much sadness, and she can't take her eyes from the drawing pad. Tears well up in my eyes and I brush the hair back from her face. The urge to pull her close and comfort her is overwhelming, and I finally toss my sketches to the side.
"Darling, do you want to tell me about your Mommy?" I hope I'm not overstepping, again.
"Daddy said she went away," Sasha murmurs, tracing her fingers over the outlines of her drawings. "I miss her."
Something flares inside me. What did Kathy do to this precious little girl? Why would she leave her without her mother? It was hard enough losing my parents as a teenager, but at least I have my memories. I can't even imagine what this must be like for her. We've only just met, but I want so badly to take away her pain.
We color a little while longer before a door opens in the distance, and then Deacon's shoes appear in the doorway.
"Hey, there you are Sasha. What are you guys doing?"
Sasha hops up from the floor and dashes to her father, who sweeps her into his arms. "We're drawing, Daddy!"
Deacon leans to one side as he gazes down at her sketch pad. "Are you, now? These are very nice. Look at the long-legged birds in this picture. And what's going on here with the flower and that red, squiggly thing?"
Sasha giggles. "This isn't a flower, silly Daddy! It's a cupcake. With lots of sprinkles! It's for the bird, obviously. Do you like it?"
Deacon and I share an instant smile that silently acknowledges neither of us will be bursting her bubble about birds not eating cupcakes. "Why, yes, darling! So many sprinkles. I bet that bird will love them!" He beams at her, planting a kiss on her cheek, sending her into a fit of laughter.
I climb to my feet and smooth out my dress. "Sasha and I agreed that there are far too many people out there, so we decided to hide out in Grandpa's office. Sorry... I should have told you."
"No, not at all," Deacon insists. "I appreciate it, actually. The truth is she gets a bit nervous around too many strangers, so I'm thankful you brought her in here. She looks much happier now. Dinner is ready. If you two want to take a break from drawing."
He gestures for me to walk ahead, and I push past him. But when his body grazes against my hip, I struggle to keep my breathing even. And, well, now there may have been anearthquake somewhere. We should really refrain from touching and interfering with nature.
We eat in the dining room. Deacon sits to my left, and Sasha takes the other side of him. The other guests make small talk, but I mostly focus on the people closest to me. Deacon leans over his plate, engaging Sasha in conversation. He showers her with attention, indulging her claims over his potatoes.
His affection for her is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's gentle, and his voice takes on a higher pitch to soothe her. All the tough edges have vanished, and his rough demeanor has disappeared. I'm mesmerized by the transformation. For the first time, I'm seeing the actual man behind the mask he likes to wear, and it looks good.
The meal ends too soon, and I spend the remainder of the evening socializing politely. But my head is focused on Deacon. There is clearly more to him than meets the eye.
Chapter eight
DEACON
"Sasha seems quite fond of Harper," my father remarks, jerking his head toward the pair through the window. They're on the floor in the sitting area, engrossed in drawing again.
All of the other guests have left, and we're sitting outside on the patio. I lean forward and rest my arms against my knees, fighting the feeling bubbling in my chest. Seeing Harper taking an interest in Sasha means more to me than I expected it to.
She's not at all what I assumed she was. And Sasha is like a different girl around Harper. The tension and unease surrounding my daughter is gone, and it's wonderful to see her opening up to someone. I can see why. Any woman who consistently sits on the floor in a beautiful dress throughout the night to draw with my daughter is something special.
I push my hand through my hair, smoothing out the front and sides, and try to chase away my nerves. Just watching Harper is enough to speed up my heart, and I wish I could deny the waymy body reacts when she smiles. My father continues gushing about her.
