The tension pouring off her as she sucked in a deep breath said otherwise.
“I’ll just ask Bodie,” he pointed out, a bit in awe at how much he wanted to brush her hair away from her face and assure her that whatever had her wound tighter than the stripes on her candy cane sweater, he’d help. “You know he’ll tell me. We’re brothers.” At her confused look, he added, “We served in the army together. He’s my brother in every way that counts. Serving with someone, being willing to die next to them, for them, creates a bond every bit as strong as blood. Stronger in many cases.”
Much stronger than the bond Zach shared with his blood relatives. They’d never understood him, and truthfully, he didn’t understand them, either. He imagined the longer he stayed away, the happier they were.
Rather than respond, Isabelle looked around the Christmas-decorated foyer. Her gaze lingered on the thickly wrapped garland twisting around the curved staircase’s railing. White lights twinkled from beneath the greenery, snow-covered pinecones, and silver ribbons. Matching garland and lights were strung over the oversized openings that led into the living room on the side opposite of them and, on the side where they stood, into a dining room that was as elaborately decorated as any his mother’s decorators had ever done.
“Bodie probably will tell you since it’s not necessarily a secret from anyone other than my mother and my sister and her fiancé. I’m looking for”—Isabelle’s face scrunched—“my father.”
The word was so tortured sounding that Zach’s heart squeezed. “He’s missing?”
Pink stained her cheeks. “For the past twenty years.”
Zach studied the angle of her jaw, the way her fingers clenched and unclenched, the I-don’t-care-about-this expression she was trying so hard to pull off—and failing. Bodie had said that her father left when Isabelle was young. What had Zach missed?
“That’s a long time.” Would she knee him if he hugged her? He wasn’t a hugging kind of guy, but she sure looked as if she needed comforting, and his arms itched to hold her.
“Tell me about it.” Her fingers curled into her palms. The skin stretched taut over her knuckles. “Or I guess it’s me who will tell you, since Bodie believes you can track him down.” Her blue eyes pierced him. “Can you?”
Pain shone even as her chin tilted upward. Zach took it all in—her tough bravado on the outside, the hurt that gripped her insides, and the sappy sensation in his chest.
“I need to know more.” Not that he’d say no. He’d help her find her father. He’d go to the North Pole and drag Santa to Pine Hill if it was what he had to do to earn a smile from her.
“I figured you would.” Glancing into the living area, she focused on a pretty brunette who practically bubbled as she chatted with a small group huddled around her in the open living room. A man came over, handed her a drink, then slid his arm possessively around her waist.
“Someone you know?”
“That’s my sister and her fiancé.”
Zach had figured as much. “The ones you don’t want to know that you’re searching for your father?”
“My only sister, my only sibling, and yes, Sophie can’t know. Neither can Cole. He might tell Sophie.”
Curious, Zach asked, “Why can’t she know? Seems as if she’d want to know something like that.”
As if she suddenly worried that he planned to clang a bell and announce it to the room, fear entered her eyes. “You can’t tell her.”
Nor would he, but her reaction stung.
“Why would I tell her? I don’t know her.”
Isabelle humphed. “If you’re in Pine Hill very long, you will. Sophie’s a friendly sort and wants to wrap the whole world in warm fuzzy happiness.”
“Unlike you?” He’d meant the comment as a tease, something to ease the tension oozing from her every pore, but her face blotched.
“I’m friendly enough when I want to be friends with someone.”
“Point taken.” There were too many people in Hamilton House to have a private conversation, unless they headed to his room, and he was one hundred percent she’d have him singing Christmas carols with the sopranos if he suggested they go there. “How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and you can tell me everything?”
Her blond hair swished back and forth. “I work on Saturdays.”
“You were at Lou’s on Tuesday, so you obviously take a break to eat at some point. But maybe Saturdays are too busy for breaks. Good news is that I’m an early riser.” Always had been.
His mother used to say the sun wouldn’t rise if he didn’t make so much racket to awaken it. For a second, her image popped into his mind, and there she smiled at him. In reality, he hadn’t seen her smile in years. Certainly not the last few times he’d gone home. Instead, sadness and tears filled her eyes when she looked at him.
“How about we meet for breakfast before you go to work?”
Isabelle’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t even know what time I have to be at work.”
