Page 17 of Singing For His Kiss

James didn’t miss the way Elizabeth’s expression softened when she looked down at Madeline. Madeline never pleaded with people to spend time with her. She usually only ever wanted James or Maria. Never anyone else. It only supported his opinion.

“At least come in with us so I can get Madeline out of the cold and rain.”

He cupped Elizabeth’s elbow, and before she could protest – because he knew she would – propelled them all into the warmth and cosiness of the café.

Don’t forget about the way she interacts with you, as well as Madeline.

Firmly telling his mind to shut up, he manoeuvred them all into an empty booth at the back of the café. Madeline sat on the same side as Elizabeth, and he sat opposite. A sense of absolute rightness occurred to him, as though this innocuous moment was in fact monumental. However, he wasn’t prone to superstition. He’d already met the love of his life; she was just living on the other side of the veil. He didn’t need a replacement. His heart panged, almost painfully.

He picked up a menu, needing something for his hands do to, and buried his face in lines that blurred. He cleared his throat before he could speak. “So, what do we all want?”

“I want a staw’berry milkshake and a car bikkie,” Madeline said.

He noticed the confused expression on Elizabeth’s face and decided now was the perfect time for her to get to know her future charge. “The café makes these biscuits out of tim tams and fruit tingles. All the parts are stuck together with icing to make it look like a car,” he explained.

“They’re really yummy.” Madeline beamed at him. She fidgeted on the seat, her face lit with a smile, clearly loving sitting next to Elizabeth. He smiled back with indulgence. He couldn’t get enough of the happy Madeline.

A part of him hoped it wasn’t his fault she’d been so unhappy. That somehow his sadness and inability to cope with life after Hanna’s death had unfairly rubbed off on her.

“Then I think I’ll have one too. What about you, Elizabeth?”

She glanced nervously at the menu. “I’ll just have a water. Do they just have tap water? I’m happy with that.”

“Have a car bikkie, Liz’beth,” Madeline said.

“It’s all good, sweetie. I’m not hungry.”

That, he suspected, was a lie. Her eyes drifted to the food counter with a mind of their own, and she’d subconsciously licked her lips four times in the past minute.

“Eat something, Elizabeth. It’s on me,” he said.

He knew he’d said the wrong thing when her back straightened and she pierced him with a steady stare. “I said I’m not hungry.”

A loud, gurgling growl sounded from her stomach at that moment. She flushed and put her hand over her stomach.

“I don’t think that sound had anything to do with the storm. Besides, it was far too loud to be thunder.” He meant it as a joke, but it fell flat.

Her expression faltered into one of bewilderment. She gripped the edge of the table with her fingertips, as though she needed something to cling to, “Why does it matter to you?”

Why indeed? Because she stirred something in Madeline. Made her come alive in a night. She’d also stirred something back to life in him too, if he wanted to be totally truthful, but he wasn’t, so he settled for saying, “You saved my daughter. Let me return the favour.”

“You’ve already let me stay the night. Gave me this coat. That’s more than enough,” she said.

He knew others who would have no hesitation to take him for everything he was worth if they’d been brave enough to do the same, which was a considerable amount. That she thought a night out of the cold and a meal was payment for saving his daughter's life was – unexpected.

She couldn’t know he could never give enough back.

“Don’t think anything of it.”

He gestured to the waitress, not giving Elizabeth time to debate any further. He was beginning to think any fuss made her uncomfortable, and he had to wonder why. A mere coffee and cake was hardly worth mentioning. He’d taken women to dinner who thought nothing of ordering the best on the menu – an expectation.

He eyed the worn backpack Elizabeth had settled against her leg. It looked the worse for wear, much like her clothing. She was also wet and wilted, her shoulders drooping as though life had become all too much. He had a sudden need to make it better for her. If he could just talk her into being Madeline’s nanny, he could.

The waitress came over. “Hi, cutie. Here for one of your milkshakes and special bikkies?”

Madeline smiled. “Yes, please. Staw’berry.”

James smiled. “Hi Josephine, I’ll have a coffee and slice of banana cake, and another coffee, cake and one of your fabulous bagels for my friend.” That he knew the waitress was testament to how often he came here.

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