To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance) Read Online Free

and a drooly smile.
    John held the baby while Tuti climbed onto the bale . She took the child back and nestled her between
her crossed legs. When he offered her a piece of mango she gave it to the
toddler.
    “How are you this morning?” he asked.
    Tuti smiled shyly, leaving him unsure whether she’d understood
him or not.
    From his wallet he took out a photo of himself and Nena, a shot
of them perched on stools at an outdoor bar on Kuta Beach. He wore a T-shirt and
board shorts and had his arm around her. Her black hair was cut short,
Western-style, and she wore a yellow dress.
    He showed Tuti the photo, watching her face to see if she
recognized her mother. And him. She glanced up, her eyes speaking a
question.
    “Yes, that’s your mother— Meme .”
Tuti nodded. He pointed to his photo and then at himself. He started to say, bapa —father—then changed it to, “Nama saya John.” My name is John.
    The feeling of connection with her was persisting—growing
even—but he hadn’t come here intending to claim her. And if he wasn’t claiming
her there was no point in telling her he was her father. He’d talked to Wayan
about this when he’d first arrived and Tuti’s uncle had agreed.
    It felt surreal even having such talks. He and Wayan had also
discussed setting up a bank account for Tuti’s support payments so Wayan and
Ketut could continue to care for her. Was that enough? It didn’t feel like
enough. He was Tuti’s only living parent. But what was the alternative? Move
here and look after Tuti? That wasn’t going to happen. Bring her back to
Australia to live with him? How could he rip her away from her home and the only
family she knew to bring her to a foreign country?
    Yet it felt wrong to just go away and leave her behind. Tuti
was his family. Family was a big part of who he was. He was close to his parents
and his sisters and he loved spending time with his nieces and nephews, teaching
them to swim, playing cricket with them on the beach.... They would all adore
Tuti.
    Tuti stared at the photo of her mother for a long time.
Reluctantly she held it out to him. John shook his head and gently pushed it
back. “You keep.”
    She smiled again, her eyes shining. She understood the meaning
of his gesture if not the words. John couldn’t help but grin back. With her
jaunty pigtails and dimpled smile she was cute as a button. He set his teacup on
the platform and brought out Katie’s book. Tuti edged closer, to peer over his
arm. Not wanting to hand it to her while she was holding the sticky baby, he
opened to the title page and showed her the inscription Katie had written.
    “ Bukuh for Tuti,” he said in pidgin
Balinese, pointing to her name. She have him a half smile, half frown, clearly
not understanding. Later he would get Wayan or Ketut to explain.
    He read the story aloud, letting her look at the illustrations
as long as she liked before he turned each page. He wasn’t sure how much she
understood but she listened attentively and more than once laughed, whether at
the story or the pictures, he couldn’t tell.
    “Do you go to school?” he asked.
    Clearly recognizing the word “school,” she nodded vigorously,
her face lit. In a flurry of movement she handed him the toddler and scrambled
off the bale . John held the tot in one arm, keeping
the book away from her sticky, grasping fingers with the other.
    On the ground, Tuti reached for the baby. “Come. School.”
    John slid off the bale and, with
the book tucked beneath his arm, he followed Tuti out of the courtyard and down
the stone steps to the narrow potholed street.
    High on the hillside, set among lush vegetation, a hotel looked
out on the ocean. Across the road was an open-air restaurant with just a few
rickety tables and a languid ceiling fan stirring the hot air. The village
straggled along a mile or so of coastal road, small houses interspersed with
homestays for tourists and a few small shops selling dry goods, fresh produce
and,