Page 20 of Hearts Aweigh
His breath stopped. “What’s wrong? Is Madeleine hurt?”
“No. No.” She waved both hands. “I’m sorry I worried you. Maddie was … She—” Abby made a disgusted sound. “Here, let me show you.”
She tiptoed to a corner and motioned for him to join her. Maddie sat on a padded bench along the other side of the wall, a stack of books resting beside her.
Spencer’s breathing returned to normal. “She looks fine.”
“I worry about her.”
“Why?” He studied his daughter. “Is she sick?”
“No. But she doesn’t do anything wrong.”
“Isn’t that good?” Spencer sidestepped as a pair of boys raced by them in a rambunctious game of tag. “I presume you value a well-behaved child.”
“It goes beyond well-behaved.” Abby grimaced. “She sits in one spot with her hands folded in her lap. Like she’s afraid I’ll scold her if she wrinkles her clothes.”
Spencer observed his daughter. She sat separate from the other children, watching them play but making no move to join them.
“It’s not natural,” Abby said. “Even the best-behaved children get excited and forget to keep their voices quiet. They get tired and cranky and whiny. But Maddie just sits there.”
An echo from the past entered his mind—of being five years old with dirty trousers and scuffed shoes, receiving a lecture from his father. One of many.
“You don’t have time for this nonsense. Other boys roll around in the dirt. But you’re a Masterson. Never forget who you are.”
The authoritarian voice in his memory still made him cringe. But what tortured him even more was the thought he might beruling Madeleine with the same iron fist his father had wielded. How could he make her feel safe and loved?
He crossed to where his daughter waited.
Madeleine stood tall and adjusted her dress. She stared up at him with a timid but eager expression that begged for his approval. “I was good.”
Guilt punched him. He forced himself to relax, not wanting Madeleine to think he was angry with her. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
She nodded.
An unpleasant realization hit Spencer that he had no idea how his own daughter’s real, uninhibited voice sounded. The few times she’d spoken in his presence, her words were polite but stilted. How could he encourage her to speak without seeming like he was berating her?
“What”—he scrambled for something to say—“what did you like best?”
“The books.”
No one would ever call his daughter a motormouth. He tried again.
“Did you do anything besides read?”
“I ate lunch.” She stepped closer. “I didn’t eat any cupcakes. And I didn’t spill any food on my dress.”
“Oh?” He reached a hesitant hand and patted her arm. “Good. Very good.” Should he say more? “You look pretty.”
Abby joined them and sank to her knees. “It was fun having you visit us, Princess Maddie.” She looked up at Spencer. “Would it be okay if I gave her a hug?”
He blinked. “Why, yes. I suppose it’s all right.”
She turned to Madeleine. “May I hug you, Your Majesty?”
His daughter giggled.
Abby moved carefully, like a doctor approaching a patient. She wrapped her arms around the tiny body and squeezed tight, rocking her back and forth. “I hope you have the best time of your life on this cruise.”
