Travis's Appeal. Marie Ferrarella
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Shana looked into his eyes and then slowly shook her head.
“No, you weren’t,” she countered quietly.
He had no idea how she knew. Maybe those luminescent blue eyes of hers allowed her to look into his soul, maybe not. Either way, he saw no reason to pretend that she was wrong. He didn’t believe in lying.
“My mother.”
His answer surprised her. “You lost your mother, too?” It gave them something in common. Without realizing it, she felt a little closer to him. “When?”
Why was it always painful, going back to that time? He was twenty-two years past it. The memory should have healed by now.
“I was five at the time.”
She looked at him with sympathy. She’d felt devastated when she lost her mother two years ago. How much worse was that kind of a loss for a little boy? For a moment, she took a seat at the table, placing her hand on his in silent empathy.
“That must have been terrible for you.”
“It was,” he agreed. He’d made a vow never to dwell on that time, but to acknowledge it and move on. Because, for all intents and purposes, his life had done the same. “But luckily, after several very huge misses, my father struck gold when he finally hired Kate to be our nanny.”
Shana heard the wealth of affection in his voice. Whoever this woman was, she meant a great deal to him.
“Kate?”
“She’s my stepmother. She has been for over twenty years. Even in the early days, before she married my father, Kate made a world of difference to all of us, thank God. I think my brothers and I were destined for juvenile hall if she hadn’t come into our lives and straightened us out.”
“So she was a disciplinarian?” Shana guessed. She tried to picture the man in front of her being a difficult child and couldn’t do it.
“Just the opposite. At the time, she was a childpsychology student with an abundant amount of patience and love.” And then, as if hearing what he was saying for the first time, Travis stopped talking and looked at her in surprise. “How did we get on this subject? I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
The smile Shana gave him told him she was very good at turning the tables on people, usually without them knowing it.
“A little mutual sharing never hurt,” she told him. “Besides, it makes you a little more human and accessible to us.”
He never thought of himself in any other way. Kate had set a very good example. “I’m always accessible to my clients.”
Her mouth curved, more intrigued by what he wasn’t saying. “But are you human?”
“That’s decided on a case-by-case basis.”
Any further exchange between them was cut short. Shawn O’Reilly, smartly dressed in a navy blue jacket, light gray slacks and a very light blue shirt, joined them. His very presence overwhelmed any sense of intimacy that might have been fostered.
Clapping Travis lightly on the back, he happily declared the same thing that Shana had when she first saw him. “You came.” Digging his knuckles into the table for support, he lowered himself into the chair opposite Travis. The chair that Shana had just vacated.
“I already used that line, Dad,” Shana teased, unwrapping his utensils from within a deep-green woven napkin. Without looking, she placed the cutlery on either side of his hands.
“Speaking of lines,” Shawn nodded toward the room’s entrance, “it looks like there’s one forming at the hostess desk.”
Shana quickly glanced over her shoulder. Two separate parties had gathered there. Several of the people were looking around for someone to come and seat them.
“Whoops.” She flashed a quick grin at Travis. “I guess talking to Mr. Marlowe here made me forget I’m still on duty. I’ll leave him in your hands, Dad. I’m sure you can entertain him with your stories.” Raising her hand, Shana signaled to catch the attention of a nearby waitress. Making eye contact, the young woman nodded. “Becka will take your orders and bring you both something to eat.”
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