chapter three
Robyn gazed out of the passenger side window. Mark had pulled to a stop in one of the visitor spaces off the drive which afforded her a clear view of a black SUV parked at the head of the driveway.
Sam Wright, his countenance positively stormy, even from a distance, stepped from the dimness of the breezeway into the afternoon sunlight. A dark-haired child was held against one shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly about him, face buried in his neck. He brought a hand up to rest against the pink backpack that was strapped to her shoulders and said something to her.
Robyn couldn't hear the words, but the little girl nodded and was lowered to the ground. They disappeared on the passenger side of the vehicle. Several moments later, Sam reappeared alone and, before climbing into the driver's seat, closed his eyes and simply stood unmoving. Even in his stillness, everything in his body language bespoke distress. And then the moment passed. Appearing emotionless and calm, he climbed into the vehicle and pulled the truck out onto the street.
Releasing a breath that she hadn't known that she was holding, Robyn turned toward Mark. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, not even attempting to deny the feeling of protectiveness that she was beginning to feel toward the two individuals who'd just driven off. She simply told herself that she'd always had a soft spot for fathers and daughters.
Mark met her gaze with a small shrug as he started out of the parking lot. "I've known Sam almost since forever. He always says he's okay. But what you just saw there is a patented Sam Wright move. I always called it the 'pull-it-all-together-so-no-one-knows-how-close-you-are-to-losing-it' move. The wall goes up and good luck to anyone who tries to get past it."
It sounded like an instinctive response toward self-preservation to Robyn. But walls locked people out, even those who should be safely inside. "What about the little girl?" she asked. She couldn't imagine much worse than having to go through a terrible scene, in front of school friends no less, and then to be shut out by her parent.
Mark was thoughtful before he answered. "Beth is special. She's very. . . wise, I guess you could say. She and Sam make quite a pair."
Robyn's brow furrowed. He hadn't exactly answered her question. "You're saying she's had to grow up fast?" she asked, not wanting to hear the answer she suspected.
Mark shook his head. "No, Sam's far too protective of her to allow that. She -- it's crazy, but one moment she's this normal seven year old, and then the next she'll say or do something so adult and insightful that it'll take your knees right out from under you."
Robyn nodded, not really sure what he meant. It was obvious that he cared for the child and for her father. "Does he have a restraining order? If she's violated it, the police can take other measures."
"It's never really been an issue. Past experience: unless she wants something, Cassandra can't get away from them fast enough. I don't know what he's going to do now."
"The restraining order would be a good first step," she advised. "He really should talk to someone, find out all of his options. He shouldn't try to go it alone. There are laws that are there to help."
Mark grinned in her direction. "You're probably right," he said signaling before moving into an exit lane.
"We're following them home." She said with equal parts realization and question as Mark steered along the same exit that Sam's black SUV had taken -- exactly the wrong direction if they were heading back to Renaissance Restorations and her car.
"Yes. You've got to talk some sense into him."
"Excuse me?" Robyn turned on him, incredulous. "Remember that conversation about not being able to force him to do something he doesn't want to do? About me not being the right person for the kind of job you need?" She didn't even mention the other issues that came to mind, such as she was stranger and would no doubt be viewed as an unwanted intruder into a personal matter. Or that she was already feeling far too drawn to this little family that she would probably never see again after that day. If she involved herself further, how would she be able to just turn and walk away?
Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he shot her an accessing look. "I think you're just about right."
Robyn settled back against the seat, crossed her arms over her chest and tried to let go of some of the tension. She tried to reason with the man. "You don't know me, Mr. --"
"Mark."
". . . You don't know me Mark. And neither does Mr. Wright. I came to our appointment this afternoon in a professional capacity. I was informed that my services were not needed or wanted. Anything else from me at this point would be an invasion of privacy. In my line of business, that's a bad thing."
Mark's grin fell away and his brow furrowed. The worry that she'd noted earlier in the warehouse returned. "You really can't do this?" he asked.
"I really can't."
"Well, just let me check on them. I'm just going to swing by and make sure they're okay. You can't wait in the car if you want, then I'll take you back to the warehouse."
"Thank you," Robyn offered a small rueful smile. She'd gotten him to understand. But she knew in her heart that for many days to come should be worrying about a man and his child, hoping that in the end, things would work out well for them.