“You live here here all alone?
In this great big house?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure we won’t be a bother?”

Bending down to grab a carton of milk, Bree hadn’t heard Mitch clearly. The low rumble of his voice, however, had sent a shiver zinging up her spine. She straightened abruptly to ask, “What?” and found him standing close behind her. Very close.

Her senses were bombarded by his clean, masculine scent, his overpowering presence and his exhilarating voice. Awed by her reaction to his innocent nearness, Bree wanted to climb into the refrigerator and pull the door shut behind her. Instead, she sidled away and put the center island workstation between her and the attractive man.

Mitch watched her, his arms folded across his broad chest. “I’m not dangerous, you know.”

VALERIE HANSEN

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

Blessings of the Heart
Valerie Hansen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

If I take the wings of the morning and dwell

in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall

Thy hand lead me and Thy right hand shall hold me.

—Psalms 139:9-10

To Joe, for having the courage and strength

of character to walk away from a lucrative,

prestigious job and come chase rainbows with me.

Dear Reader,

As you’ve probably gathered by now, especially if you’ve read my earlier Love Inspired titles, I love rural life in the Ozark Mountains.

We moved out here in the country to escape, just as Brianne did in my story. Only, we did it for different reasons. We weren’t running away from anything, we were running toward it. A city had grown up around us where we’d lived before and our life had gotten too fast-paced and complicated as a result. Yes, wages there were high and jobs were plentiful, but without peace of mind and good physical health, what difference does that make?

So we left. Some of our friends thought we were crazy to follow our dream all the way from Southern California to the backwoods of Arkansas. Others envied us. It took guts and faith to do what we did, but we’ve never been sorry.

There have been a few interesting surprises along the way, too. I knew I could continue to write no matter where I lived but I’d never imagined how much finding a good country church, a Bible-preaching pastor and dozens of new Christian friends would reshape and refocus my faith.

I had to come here as preparation for the books I’m writing now. I just didn’t know it ahead of time!

I invite your letters at P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539-0013, e-mails at VALW@centurytel.net or visit my Web site for the latest news, http://www.centurytel.net/valeriewhisenand/.

Blessings,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me.”

—Psalm 139:9-10

S tartled, Brianne Bailey froze. Listened. Straightened. Who in the world could be making such an awful racket?

She’d been in her kitchen, peacefully raiding the refrigerator for a quick afternoon snack, when she’d heard the first whack. Before she could determine the source, repeated pounding had built to a deafening crescendo and was echoing through the enormous house. It sounded as if a herd of rampaging elephants was trampling down her substantial mahogany front door. That, or she was being accosted by a psychopathic door-to-door salesman who knew she was there alone and hoped to frighten her into buying his wares!

Both ideas were so ludicrous they made Bree chuckle as she hurried down the hall to answer the knock. “Boy, I’ve been living in a world of fiction for too long,” she muttered. “I’m beginning to think like the crazy characters in my stories.” Which wouldn’t be too bad if I were writing at the time, she added, smiling.

The hammering intensified. “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Brianne shouted. “Don’t you break the stained glass in the top of that door, whoever you are. I’ll never be able to replace it.”

She grabbed the knob and jerked open the door, ready to continue scolding her would-be intruder. Instead, she took one look at the cause of the disturbance and gasped, slack-jawed.

The man standing on the porch with his fist raised to continue his assault on her helpless door was dirty, sweaty, scratched and bleeding, as if he’d just plunged through a green-briar thicket. He was also remarkably handsome in spite of his disheveled appearance. Left speechless, she wasn’t having a lot of luck sucking in enough air for adequate breathing, either.

Her visitor looked to be in his mid-thirties, with dark, wavy hair and darker eyes beneath scowling brows. Standing there, facing her, he seemed larger than life. As if the pounding hadn’t been enough, his reddened face was added proof of his anger, although what had upset him was a mystery to Bree. Far as she knew, she didn’t have an enemy in the world.

“Can I help you?” She managed to speak.

“It’s your pond,” the man said, looking directly into her wide, blue eyes and pointing with a thrust of his arm. “It’s cut off all my water!”

Brianne held up one hand in a calming gesture. “Whoa. There’s no need to get upset. I’m sure we can work things out. Just tell me exactly what water you’re talking about?”

“From the spring. Over there,” he explained. “You built your new pond between my place and the spring.”

“My pond? Oh, dear. Did I do something against the law?”

“I don’t know. What difference does it make? By the time we finally get enough rain to finish filling that enormous hole of yours and spill over into the creek bed again, I’ll be an old man.”

Oddly, his comment amused her. She smiled, smoothed the hem of her knit shirt over her shorts and said, “I imagine that will be quite a long time.”

“This isn’t funny. I need water for my cabin.”

“Which is, I take it, downhill from here?”

“Brilliant deduction.”

Certain the man wouldn’t appreciate her growing humor, Bree fought a threatened eruption of giggles. “Thanks. I’m trying.”

“Well?” he asked, scowling.

“Well, what? I had that valley explored before I made any changes in the landscaping up here. We did find one old cabin, but these hills are full of abandoned homesteads. Surely, you can’t be talking about that decrepit old place.”

“I certainly am.”

“Oops. Sorry.” Her smile turned apologetic. “You live there?”

“I do now.”

“I see. What about your well?”

“Don’t have a well. Or running water. Never have.” He held up the bucket he was carrying. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I thought I just did.”

“Not hardly,” Bree argued. “If you’d knocked on my door politely and explained your problem we could have handled this without everybody getting upset.”

“Who said I was upset?”

She arched an eyebrow as she eyed him critically. “Some things are self-explanatory, Mr….”

“Fowler. Mitch Fowler.”

“All right, Mr. Fowler. You can take all the water you need from my well. Will that satisfy you?”

“I guess that’s my only choice.” Some of the tension left him. “My Uncle Eldon and Aunt Vi used to live in the same old cabin. Maybe you knew them.”

“I’m afraid not. I’m Brianne Bailey. Bree, for short.” She politely offered to shake hands, waiting while Mitch wiped his on his jeans. “I’m not from around here. I…”

The moment Mitch’s hand touched hers she forgot whatever else she was going to say. Staring at him, she realized that he was returning her gaze with a look of equal amazement. Now that he was no longer irate, his glance seemed warmer, more appealing. It reminded her of a cup of dark, rich coffee on a cold winter’s morning.

Brianne didn’t know how long she stood there holding the stranger’s hand, because time had ceased to register. She didn’t come to her senses until she heard him clear his throat.

“I’m sorry I came on so strong just now,” Mitch said, finally letting go and stepping away. “When I discovered we had no water it threw me for a loop.”

“I’m sure it did.” Bree eyed the bucket. “Before I get back to work I suppose I should show you where to fill that.”

“That won’t be necessary. It’s too hot to come outside if you don’t need to. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

The mention of temperature and hair together made her unconsciously lift her long, honey-blond tresses off her neck to cool her skin. Even in shorts and a sleeveless blouse she was feeling the heat, too.

“Nonsense,” she said. “You look like you had to fight your way through a pack of wildcats to get up here. The least I can do is walk you out to the hose. Besides, I was taking a break, anyway.”

“A break? Do you work at home?”

“Yes. I’m a writer.” She waited for the usual questions about her publishing history. When they didn’t come, she relaxed, smiled amiably and pointed. “This way. I need to water the new flower beds over there again, anyway. Sure wish we’d get some decent rain. It’s been awfully dry lately.”

“I know. At first I was afraid the spring had dried up.”

Mitch stepped back to give her room to pass, then walked beside her as she led the way down the stone steps and along the path that took them around the east wing of the sprawling dwelling. In the distance lay the offending pond. Closer to the house, a bright yellow hose stood out against the green of the perfectly groomed lawn.

“You have a nice place here,” Mitch said.

“Thanks. I like it.”

“I do a little building, myself.”

She noticed that he was assessing the newest addition to the house as they walked. “Would you like to wander around and look the place over? I don’t mind.”

“I’d love to but I need to get home. I didn’t expect to be gone this long when I left the boys.”

“Boys?” Brianne couldn’t picture him as a scoutmaster leading a camp out or a Sunday school teacher taking his class on a field trip, which left only one other likely probability—fatherhood. The notion of having one man living close by didn’t bother her nearly as much as the idea of his children running rampant all over the hills, whooping and hollering and disturbing the otherwise perfect solitude she’d created in which to work.

“I have two sons,” Mitch said.

“Congratulations.” There was an embarrassing pause before she went on. “I can’t imagine coping with any children, let alone boys.”

“It isn’t easy.” Mitch bent to fill the bucket, not looking at her as he spoke. “Especially alone.”

Curiosity got the better of her. “Oh? Are you divorced?”

“No.” Mitch straightened, his expression guarded. “My wife died recently.”

Open mouth, insert foot, chew thoroughly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

The hint of a smile lifted one corner of his strong mouth. “It’s no secret that I’m single, if that’s what you want to know. And I’m not grieving. Liz and I had separated long before her accident. I hadn’t seen her in ages.”

“Then what about—?” Brianne broke off and cast a telling glance down the wooded slope in the direction of his cabin. No more questions. She’d already said enough dumb things for one day.

Mitch, however, supplied the answer to her unspoken query. “Liz took the boys away with her when she left me. It took almost three years to track them down.”

The poignancy of his situation touched her heart.

“What an awful thing to go through.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I’ve got my work cut out for me now, that’s for sure, which is why I’d better get a move on. Even kids who are used to living by strict rules can get into trouble, and mine haven’t had much discipline lately. Ryan—he’s eight—says he’s used to looking after his younger brother, but that doesn’t mean they won’t both be swinging from the chandeliers by the time I get home.”

She was incredulous. “Wait a minute. You have no water—but you have chandeliers in your cabin?”

“No, ma’am.” Mitch chuckled. “That was just a figure of speech.” Glancing toward the mansion, he added, “I think you’ve been surrounded by luxury too long. You’re out of touch with how the rest of the world lives.”

She sighed. “I suppose you could be right. I find this whole area very confusing. There aren’t any neighborhoods like I’m used to back home. People just seem to build whatever kind of house they want, wherever they want it, no matter what the places next door look like.” Realizing how that comment had sounded, she pulled a face. “Sorry. No offense meant.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can’t help it if you have more money than good sense.” He followed his comment with a smile so she’d realize he’d been joking.

“Hey, I’m not that wealthy.”

Mitch’s smile grew. “Good. Maybe there’s hope for you yet. Are you famous? Maybe I’ve read something you wrote.”

Delayed reaction but predictable questions? “I doubt that. I write women’s fiction. And I didn’t get rich doing it. My father passed away several years ago, and I inherited a bundle. After that, I left Pennsylvania and moved down here to Arkansas to get away from the sad memories.”

Mitch hefted the heavy bucket with ease and started toward the edge of the lawn where the forest began. “Can’t run from those,” he said wisely. “I ought to know. No matter where you go, your past goes with you, mistakes and all.”

A jolt of uneasiness hit her as she fell into step beside him. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“Not about that. Experience is a great teacher,” he said soberly. “Well, nice to have met you, Ms. Bailey, and thanks for the water. If you ever feel like slumming, just follow this streambed about half a mile. You’ll find us at the bottom of the draw.” He smiled. “Bye. Gotta go.”

She raised her hand tentatively in reply. She’d have done more, but a flock of butterflies had just launched themselves en masse at the sight of his dynamic parting grin, and she was busy wondering if his last glimpse of her was going to feature her keeling over in a dead faint. The notion wasn’t very appealing.

“Phooey. I don’t swoon,” Bree whispered, wresting control of her body from her topsy-turvy emotions. “I’m just a little woozy from the heat and humidity, that’s all. I’ve never fainted and I never will.”

Besides, that poor man is saddled with two little kids, she added, silently reinforcing her growing conviction that Mitch was anything but appealing. Children. Eesh! And the oldest was only eight! What a nightmare!

Bree shivered. As far as she was concerned, the man might as well have confessed to being in league with the devil himself!

By the time Mitch got to his cabin, he’d managed to spill half the contents of the bucket. Considering the rough, overgrown terrain he’d had to cover on his trek down the hill he was surprised to have salvaged that much.

As he approached the cabin, he could hear shouts and squeals of laughter. That might not be a good sign but at least it proved the boys hadn’t mutinied and wandered off in his absence.

The minute he pushed open the door, his children froze in mid-motion, looking as if they were sure they were guilty of some awful crime and expected him to mete out immediate punishment.

Instead, Mitch set the bucket down and paused to assess the mayhem. Ryan had pulled the narrow end of a flat sheet over his shoulders and tied the corners so the fabric draped behind him like a long cape. Bud had apparently been trying to sit on the part that dragged the floor while his big brother pulled him around the room. Bud’s raggedy old teddy bear was perched on the sidelines like an audience at a sporting event.

Judging by the swirls of dust on the wooden flooring and the boys’ grubby faces and hands, they’d been playing their little game for some time. Their expressions were priceless!

Mitch wanted desperately to laugh. They were just typical kids having a good time. He wasn’t about to play the ogre and spoil their fun.

He pointed. “You missed a couple of places.”

“Huh?” Ryan frowned.

“That’s an ingenious way to sweep the floor but it doesn’t do the corners very well. I suggest we use a mop for those.”

“Uh, okay.”

Mitch could tell the boy’s mind was working, struggling to comprehend Mitch’s surprising parental reaction. Finally, Ryan’s thin shoulders relaxed, and he untied his makeshift cape.

“Little kids get bored real easy,” the eight-year-old said. “You have to keep ’em busy or they get into trouble.”

“I can see that.”

For an instant Mitch glimpsed the child behind his eldest son’s tough-guy facade. It couldn’t have been easy for Ryan to act as a pseudo parent while his flaky mother, Liz, ran around doing as she pleased. There was no telling how often she’d gone off on a tangent and left the boys alone much longer than she’d originally intended. Still, that lack of responsibility on her part may have been a blessing in disguise because it had led to them not being with her when she’d had the horrible accident that had taken her life.

“I may need you to help me understand your brother,” Mitch said. “Especially since I haven’t seen either of you for such a long time. I’m not used to having kids around. I’ve really missed you guys.”

“Then why didn’t you come get us?”

Ah, so that was what was eating at Ryan. “Because I didn’t know where your mother had taken you,” Mitch explained. “Even the police couldn’t find you. I spent every cent I could lay my hands on to hire private detectives. I’ll say this for your mom, she hides really good.”

“We moved a lot,” the boy replied, eyes downcast.

“It’s okay. I won’t bug you about it,” Mitch promised. “But if you ever do decide you want to talk about anything that happened while you were gone, I’m willing to listen, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Mitch would have pursued the subject if there hadn’t been a strange scratching noise at the door. He immediately assumed it was a marauding raccoon or possum, but before he had time to warn the boys, Bud had run to the door and thrown it wide open.

“Don’t!”

Mitch started to shout, then stopped, startled, when he realized their visitor was a puppy. At least he thought it was. There was so much mud and so many leaves and twigs stuck in its dull brown coat that its age wasn’t the only thing in question.

Mitch’s protective instincts came to the fore. “Close the door. You don’t know where that thing has been. It could be sick.”

The advice came too late. Bud was already on his knees beside the pitiful little dog, and Ryan was patting it on the head while it shook and whimpered. Whether Mitch approved or not, it looked like his boys had themselves a pet.

He strode quickly to the doorway and scooped up the skinny pup so he could look it over. Poor thing. He could feel every one of its ribs beneath the matted fur. Chances were good it was covered with fleas, too. If any stray ever needed a home, this one sure did.

“Okay. First things first,” he said firmly. “Ryan, you grab a rag and wipe down all the furniture with clean water from the bucket. Bud, you help him. And do a good job of it, guys, because you’ll only get one chance. As soon as you’re done we’re going to use the rest of the wash water to give this dog a bath.”

Hearing the boys’ mutual intake of breath he added, “That is, if you want it to live inside with us. Of course, if you don’t…”

“We do!” Ryan shouted. Grabbing Bud by the hand, he hurried him off with a breathless command, “Come on,” leaving Mitch and the dog behind.

“You guys found him. What do you want to name him?” Mitch called after them.

Bud grabbed Ryan’s arm and leaned close to whisper in his ear.

Ryan nodded sagely. “Barney.”

Bud agreed, “Yeah!”

At the shrill sound of their voices the little dog’s trembling increased. Mitch felt so sorry for it, he held it closer in spite of its dirty coat. “Shush. You’re scaring him.”

They immediately quieted down, looking at their father with awe. In their eyes, he had apparently become an instant expert on dogs.

Soberly, Mitch gazed at the skinny, quivering ball of filthy fur he was cradling in his arms, hoping with all his heart that he’d be wise enough, caring enough, to salvage all three of the neglected waifs he was now responsible for.

Chapter Two

W ith darkness came a midsummer thunderstorm. Mitch figured out how hard it was raining by listening to the torrent pounding against the peaked tin roof and running off the steep slope to fall in a solid sheet of water along both sides.

Before long, he felt a drop hit him on the head. It didn’t startle him because he was already wide awake. As soon as the thunder and lightning had started, Bud had climbed into his bed with him, stuffed bear and all. That wasn’t so bad until a wide-eyed Ryan showed up carrying a battery-powered lantern and their new dog.

“Barney is scared, too,” the eight-year-old said. “Can we get in bed with you?”

“Sure.” Mitch scooted over as far as he could to make room and promptly fell off the narrow mattress onto the floor with a thump and an ouch.

That brought giggles from the boys.

“Tell you what,” he said, raising himself up to peer over the edge of the bed, “how about we put a couple of these beds together to make one bigger one? Then we can all sleep close without pushing your poor daddy onto the floor.”

No one answered. Mitch got to his feet and took charge. “Okay. Everybody out. The roof is leaking over here, and I don’t know how much worse the rain will get, so the first thing we’re going to do is move my bed to a drier place.” He motioned. “Ryan, you push the foot of the bed in that direction. I’ll get the end with the headboard.”

“I have to go potty,” Bud announced.

“In a minute,” Mitch promised. “Right now we’re getting Daddy’s bed out of the way so it won’t get wet.”

Ryan shot him a knowing look. “That’s not the only thing that’ll be wet if you don’t take him to the bathroom. When he says he has to go, he has to go.”

“Okay, okay.”

It suddenly occurred to Mitch that the facilities were outside and it was pouring. He glanced at Ryan. The boy was sporting a sly grin.

Mitch frowned. “Did you take your brother to the outhouse before dark, like I told you?”

“Yup.” Ryan’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “But he’d never seen one before. He was scared to go in.”

“Why didn’t you go in with him?”

“It was too crowded.” His smile spread from ear to ear. “Guess you’ll have to make the trip, huh?”

Mitch sighed, vowing to add a portable commode to the list of supplies he intended to get the next time he drove into town. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on over his pajamas, then slid his bare feet into his boots. “I guess I will. Help your brother put his shoes on.”

He grabbed a waterproof plastic poncho, slung it over his head and held the front part out of the way while he hoisted his youngest son in his arms and covered him with it.

“I’ll take Bud now. Ryan, you fix the beds while I’m gone. When I come back I’ll help you. Okay?”

Ryan nodded compliantly.

Looking terribly smug, he handed his father a flashlight.

The humidity gathering beneath the plastic gear had already brought up beads of sweat on Mitch’s forehead.

The moment Ryan opened the door for him, the rain gusted in, soaking the floorboards and puddling on the uneven surface. Lightning illuminated the yard as if a floodlight had been turned on. Thunder crashed and rolled, echoing across the hills.

If Mitch hadn’t been obliged to make a mad dash for the outhouse he would have stopped then and there and told his eldest son a few things about following orders in the future. As it was, he figured he would be doing well to keep his balance and get there and back in one piece. Discipline would have to wait.

From her second-story vantage point, Bree could see the recently dug pond that had caused her new neighbor such consternation. Every time there was a flash of lightning the water level looked higher. If this deluge kept up, the creek he’d mentioned was probably going to start flowing again very soon.

“I think I’ll still run a pipe from our well so they’ll have decent drinking water all the time,” she told herself. “That’s only fair.” Besides, doing that would keep the neighbors from disturbing her solitude by hiking up the hill to fetch water day after day. She made a disgusted face. Did having an ulterior motive cancel out the benefits of doing a good deed? “I sure hope not.”

As she watched, the water level in the pond continued to rise, then appeared to stabilize even though the rain was still coming down hard. Her brow furrowed, and she peered into the darkness, hoping for another bright burst so she could see better. When it did finally come, she could have sworn there was less water in the pond than before. How strange.

Puzzled, she watched the anomaly for a few more minutes, then pulled a light cotton robe over her nightgown and went downstairs to make sure her computer was disconnected in case of a lightning strike. There wasn’t much point in going back to bed while the storm raged. She’d never be able to sleep when the flashes were so bright she could see them through her closed eyelids!

Bree got herself a glass of milk and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. She noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. Undue concern during bad weather was a new phenomenon for her. There seemed to be something particularly disconcerting about the ferocity of Arkansas summer storms. Maybe it was the stories her part-time housekeeper, Emma, had told about that kind of weather spawning tornadoes. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Bree was alone in the enormous house with no one to talk to. Most of the time, that was exactly how she wanted it. Tonight, however, she almost wished it was time for Emma to drive out from Serenity and clean the place again.

Thunder rattled the windows. Bree winced. “Guess I’m not much of a country girl,” she murmured. “I’d sure like to ask somebody a few questions right about now.”

Mitch had pulled on his leather boots without lacing them, and they were totally soaked. Thanks to the blowing rain and stifling humidity, the rest of him wasn’t much drier.

Bud had obviously never had to rough it before. Consequently, their foray into the storm had taken far longer than Mitch had anticipated.

By the time he returned Bud to the cabin, Mitch was furious with Ryan. Pulling off his slicker, he glared at the boy. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Ryan answered, acting subdued under his father’s ire. “It’s not my fault this place is a dump. It’s worse than going to camp. At least they had the bathrooms in the same building.”

“You went to camp?”

“Yeah. Once. Mom sent us. I didn’t like it much.”

“No doubt.” Mitch noticed that Ryan was fidgeting more than usual. Since the sound of running, dripping water had been serenading them for hours, he suspected the power of suggestion was getting to Ryan the same way it already had to Bud.

“You wouldn’t happen to have to use the bathroom, too, would you?” Mitch asked with a slow drawl.

“Me? Naw.”

“You sure? I could lend you my poncho. You wouldn’t get too wet.”

Ryan eyed him with obvious misgivings. “You mean you wouldn’t come with me?”

“Nope. One of us has to stay in here and watch your brother. If you go, that means I stay.” He could see the indecisiveness in his son’s face turn to stubborn resolve.

“Fine. Gimme the raincoat. I’m out of here.”

Mitch watched him don the man-size slicker and pick up the flashlight. The only thing that hinted at anxiety was a slight pause in Ryan’s stride as he opened the door and faced the storm. Then he slammed the door and was gone.

The kid has guts, Mitch told himself with pride. He hadn’t been nearly that brave when he was only eight. Of course, he hadn’t been compelled to care for a younger sibling, either. That responsibility had undoubtedly forced Ryan to grow up way before his time—which was a real shame. If possible, Mitch was going to teach the poor kid to enjoy being a child again.

Warmer thoughts of Ryan had just about blotted out the last of Mitch’s rancor when the door burst open and his son ran in, shouting, “Look out! It’s a flood!”

If it hadn’t been for the wild look in his son’s eyes, Mitch might have doubted his truthfulness. Instead, he joined him at the door and shined the flashlight on the yard to assess the situation for himself.

“It’s just runoff water,” Mitch assured the frightened boy. “Nothing to worry about.”

Ryan grabbed the light and pointed it toward the creek bed. “Oh, yeah? How about over there?”

“That’s just…” Reality struck, bringing Mitch’s heart to his throat and making his pulse race. He whispered, “Dear God.”

“You told me not to cuss.”

“That wasn’t a curse. See the debris in the water? Those are whole trees, not twigs. I didn’t know it was raining hard enough to do that.” He whirled. “Come on. We’re getting out of here. Follow me. I’ll get Bud.”

“Want your raincoat?” Ryan held it out.

“Forget it. I’d rather be wet than get caught by that water coming down the canyon.”

Mitch scooped up his youngest son and ran for the front door. Bud immediately started to bawl.

Racing toward the car, Mitch belatedly realized that Ryan wasn’t right behind him. He tossed Bud into the back seat and was about to return to the house for his other son when Ryan appeared, leaning into the wind and struggling to make headway through the pelting rain.

“Had to stop and get the bear,” the boy shouted.

Mitch was already standing in mud and water up to his ankles. Fortunately, Ryan was able to get the passenger door open without his help.

Sliding behind the wheel, Mitch leaned over and pulled Ryan into the car beside him, then started the motor while the boy struggled to shut the heavy door against the force of the gale.

“Where’s the dog? Who’s got the dog?” Mitch shouted over the combined furor of the storm and his upset children.

“I don’t know,” Ryan hollered back. “Want me to go see?”

“No. Stay right where you are. I’ll get him.”

The moment Mitch opened the driver’s door the soggy little dog jumped in, bounded across his feet and scrambled over the back of the front seat as if he’d always done it that way.

The boys cheered.

“Belt yourselves in!” Mitch ordered.

He put the car in reverse, praying the tires wouldn’t slip in the slimy mud and wishing he’d had enough foresight to bring his four-wheel-drive pickup truck instead of the cumbersome passenger car.

Gently, evenly, he pressed the accelerator. Every instinct screamed for him to gun the motor, to race onto the paved road as fast as he could. But he knew better than to try.

The rear wheels slipped, spun. Mitch eased up on the gas, and they finally caught. He prayed a silent thanks to his heavenly Father, then added a fervent, soul-deep plea for further help, just as he had every single day and night his sons had been missing. Nothing like a disaster to bring out the spiritual side of a man, was there? Well, at least something good had come out of that time of horrible worry and loneliness.

Mitch’s hands clenched the wheel.

The heavy vehicle slipped and slid in and out of ruts as it inched backward out of the valley.

Even if there had been room to turn the car around, he wouldn’t have tried the maneuver in this weather. Too much chance of going off the road and getting mired in one of the ditches that ran along both sides.

He hardly had time to think about that danger before they skidded off the road and were mired up to their axles! Terrific. Now what? He glanced at his sons.

Ryan gave him a cynical look in reply. “Smooth move, Dad.”

Under other circumstances Mitch would have countered that comment, but right now he had more important things on his mind than the boy’s pessimism. He had to decide quickly what to do with his wet, shivering kids and the soggy dog. Given the current conditions, staying in the car was out of the question.

It didn’t take a genius to see that a short hike to the estate up the hill was the only sensible course of action. For the sake of the kids, he’d have to swallow his pride and ask for help. Again.

Too bad he hadn’t tried to make a better impression on the wealthy woman who lived there the first time he’d knocked on her door.

Getting Bud and Ryan up the hill was a lot harder for Mitch than climbing with the bucket had been. It was also dark and wet, and everybody was clammy and slippery.

Mitch finally slung the smaller boy under one arm like a sack of potatoes so he could carry him and still have one hand free to grab low-hanging tree branches to aid his ascent.

Ryan tried valiantly to keep up but made little forward progress while he was trying to hold on to the soggy dog. Finally, he set Barney down to fend for himself and concentrated on toting only the drenched teddy bear while Mitch struggled along with Bud.

By the time they topped the rise and came out of the forest onto the lawn of the estate, Mitch was so exhausted he dropped to his knees.

Fighting to catch his breath, he set Bud on his feet, “Okay. You can walk now.”

Though the rain had slackened some, it was still falling. Gusting wind made it feel colder. He pointed toward the house, thankful a few lights were on inside so the boys could see it clearly. “That’s where we’re going. It’s not much farther.”

Ryan drew up beside his father and whistled. “Whoa. Cool. Why didn’t you bring us here in the first place?”

“Look, the only reason we’re here tonight is because we need shelter and a dry place to sleep,” Mitch explained. “In the morning we’ll head back down to the cabin and see what kind of shape it’s in.”

“Bummer.”

“Get over it.” Mitch stood. “Come on, fellas. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. Grab the dog and let’s go.”

Chapter Three

B rianne was still sitting in the kitchen when she thought she heard a knock on the front door. Chalking it up to her imagination, she didn’t move. As isolated as the house was, she hardly ever had company, even on a nice day. On a wretched night like this it was unheard of.

A second knock made her jump. “Who in the world can that be?” There was only one way to find out—answer the door. But what if it was a burglar?

“A burglar wouldn’t knock,” she countered, chuckling softly. Just in case, however, she’d leave the chain fastened till she saw who it was. Too bad she didn’t have a baseball bat handy.

“Sure, then if it is a burglar I can ask him if he wants to play a few innings?” Bree taunted herself.

She was still smiling at the amusing idea as she unlocked the front door and opened it far enough to see if she really did have callers.

Oh, my! She certainly did! Not only was Mitch Fowler standing on her porch big as life—he had two dripping wet children at his side. The pose reminded her of a mother hen corralling her chicks to shelter them beneath her wings. How adorable!

Brianne quickly undid the chain and threw the door wide. “You look awful. Get in here where it’s dry.”

“You sure?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks. We got flooded out, and I didn’t know where else to go. The kids are pretty cold.”

Ushering his boys through the door without delay, he ran his hands over his wet hair to smooth it back, apparently trying to make himself presentable.

Bree thought he looked absolutely endearing. The tender way he was hovering over his children touched her heart and created a never-to-be-forgotten picture of true parenting. When she was little she would have given anything to see that kind of love in her father’s expression. The thought brought a melancholy smile.

Mitch’s glance met hers and lingered. “I hate to be a bother. Have you got a couple of extra blankets we could borrow? And maybe some spare towels?”

“Of course.” Blushing and pulling her cotton robe around her more tightly, she said, “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’ll go get them.”

She frowned momentarily at the water puddling on her shiny marble foyer floor, then hurried down the hall. In moments she was back and handing out towels. “Here. These will get you started.”

“Thanks. I’m really sorry about this, Ms. Bailey. I hadn’t intended to bother you again.”

“Please, call me Bree.”

“Bree? Okay. This is Ryan.” Mitch laid a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder, then touched his sibling in turn. “And this is Bud. The little furry one Ryan’s holding is named Barney. He’s new to our family.”

“How—sweet.” Though the whole group was dripping, the dog was definitely the dirtiest. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be able to dry off her guests and then send them packing. Therefore, they’d have to make other arrangements. Ones that would keep the current mess confined to a small area.

“I guess I should see what I can find for the boys to wear until their clothes and shoes are dry. As for you…” A blush warmed her cheeks when she scanned Mitch’s full height. “You’re much bigger than I am. I’m afraid you’ll have to rough it.”

“No problem—as long as my kids are okay. We really appreciate your hospitality, ma’am. We’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

Bree shivered. The whole idea of having them stay, even temporarily, was so unsettling it made her insides tremble as she doled out more fluffy bath towels. And to think she’d just been yearning for some company because of the storm! What a stupid idea. Being lonesome was starting to look better by the minute.

Mitch’s hand accidentally brushed hers when he accepted the last towel. Startled, she pulled back and folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture.

He gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

“Storms make me nervous,” she replied.

“Not me. At least not until the one tonight. I’ve never seen that creek by Eldon’s rise so high or move so fast. I was afraid it might take out the whole cabin.”

“Is that what you meant by a flood?”

“Yeah.” Mitch draped another towel around Bud’s neck and proceeded to tousle his hair to dry it. “I tried to drive out to the main road, but we never made it.”

“Dad backed into a ditch and we got stuck,” Ryan piped up, wiggling and squirming. “Can I take a bath? I think I’ve got mud in my shorts.”

“Ryan! That’s enough. Mind your manners.”

Amused, Brianne pointed. “Sounds like a good idea to me. The downstairs bathroom is right around that corner. It has a large shower and linen closet. Take your family through there and down the tiled hall so you won’t get muddy tracks on the carpet. If you drop everybody’s wet clothes outside the bathroom door I’ll see that they’re washed and dried.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.”

Bending slightly, Mitch began to herd his little group of soggy refugees in the direction she’d indicated. All except one, that is.

In order to hold on to his towel, Ryan had had to put Barney down. The curious pup was busy sniffing his way across the foyer. Behind him, a line of smudged paw prints stood out prominently on the highly polished black marble floor.

“Uh-oh. Trouble,” Mitch muttered. Then louder, “Hey! Dog. Over here.” He began to whistle repeatedly while the children also called.

Barney ignored everything except the interesting scent he was tracking, which wasn’t too surprising since he’d only been with the family for a few hectic hours.

Mitch was about to leave the boys and go chasing after the wayward animal when Bree screeched, “Oh, no!” and dashed madly across the smooth floor.

She was really moving when her bare feet hit the rain puddle he and the boys had left. She started to slide, arms thrown out for balance, looking for all the world like a surfer hanging ten only without a surfboard or wave.

Mitch shouted, “Look out!”

Ryan punched the air over his head and hollered, “All right!” Bud clutched his teddy bear to his chest and wailed, “Barney! Barney!”

Brianne’s slide ended abruptly when she came to the edge of the slippery area. She staggered forward and almost fell flat on her face.

To Mitch’s relief, she regained her balance in time to overtake the shaggy little dog before it had walked three paces onto the cream-colored carpeting. He breathed a sigh.

The sense of relief didn’t last a millisecond. Barney was cringing. Poor pup must have been scared to death by all the noise, and now…

“Careful! Don’t scare him!” Mitch shouted. The warning came too late.

The moment Brianne reached down to grab the little dog he whimpered, shied and made a fresh puddle of his own. Right on her precious carpet!

Fortunately, by biting the inside of his lower lip, Mitch was able to keep from laughing out loud. Just barely.

By the time Mitch got his children showered and dressed in the makeshift outfits Bree had delivered to the luxurious bathroom, he was totally exhausted. He was also the only one who wasn’t clean, which meant he and the dog were probably still persona non grata in the rest of the house.

His biggest problem was what to do next. He’d already offered to shampoo the soiled carpet, but he couldn’t even do that much until he got himself clean and dry or he’d only make matters worse.

The boys were whooping it up so loudly he almost missed hearing the knock on the bathroom door.

He shushed them. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Mr. Fowler. Brianne. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find anything for you to wear. What if I wash your wet things with the other clothes and get them back to you as soon as possible?”

“I suppose that beats staying in here till morning,” he answered. “Hold on. I’ll toss them out.”

“Hey, Dad, can we go with her?” Ryan asked. “There’s nothin’ fun to do in here.”

Mitch was about to deny his request when Bree said, “If the boys are showered and dressed they’re welcome to come out. I have cookies in the kitchen, and it’s no trouble at all to make up some hot chocolate.”

“Well… I don’t know.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine without you for an hour or so.”

Although he was anything but certain she was right, he gave in to the chorus of pleas that followed the mention of cocoa and cookies. “All right. Simmer down. You can go. But Barney stays here. And if you guys cause any trouble you’ll have to settle with me the minute I get my clothes back. Is that understood?”

Two small heads nodded soberly. That wasn’t nearly enough to negate Mitch’s misgivings, but it would have to do.

“Okay.”

He stripped off his muddy jeans and wadded them into a ball with his pajama top, grateful he’d left his pajama bottoms on underneath the jeans when he’d dressed in such a hurry.

Hiding behind the bathroom door, Mitch peered around it far enough to toss his clothes onto the pile with the other washing.

Bree waited nearby.

He smiled at her. “If the kids give you any grief, march them right back in here, and I’ll take over.”

“It’s a deal.”

She was amazed when she saw the boys parading out. They looked positively angelic! Their hair was slicked back, their feet were bare, and the shorts and T-shirts she’d found for them were so roomy they made the children seem even smaller than they actually were.

The contrast between the way they looked now and the way they’d looked when they’d arrived was truly miraculous. The younger one was holding a scruffy teddy bear, which had obviously had a bath, too.

She paused and smiled, assessing the boys looking at her with such expectant expressions. How darling! Mitch Fowler must be awfully cynical to imagine that such cute kids would cause trouble. He probably didn’t have a clue how to handle them properly, the poor little things.

“Come on. This way,” Bree said, starting off. Ryan, Bud and Bud’s teddy bear followed obediently.

When they got to the kitchen, Bree helped Bud crawl into a chair, then smiled with satisfaction. This wasn’t so bad, was it? Maybe their short stay wasn’t going to upset her routine as much as she’d thought. After all, she didn’t dare use her computer during inclement weather anyway, and as soon as the skies cleared they’d all go home, and she could get back to work without any more distraction.

Satisfied, she placed a napkin in front of each boy and laid two cookies in the center. “Hot chocolate coming up.”

“I want whipped cream on mine,” Ryan ordered.

“Sorry, I don’t have any whipped cream.”

To Bree’s surprise, Bud immediately began to whimper while his brother made a sour face and turned sullen. Apparently, the boys’ cute, agreeable phase was over already. Oh, well.

“I like to float those little tiny marshmallows in my hot chocolate,” she said brightly. “I’ll put some in your cups, and you can tell me if you like them, too.”

“I hate mush mellows,” Ryan said.

“Not mush. Marshmallows.”

Crossing to the table, she dropped several of the small, rounded balls of candy fluff onto the napkins with the boys’ cookies. “There you go. That’s what they look like. You can eat them just like that. When they’re floating in hot cocoa they melt and get really good and gooey.”

The children were still sitting there, pouting and staring at the napkins, when Bree set their mugs on the table. “Okay. Here’s your drink. It’s hot. Sip it slowly so you don’t burn yourselves. And be careful not to get melted marshmallow stuck to the end of your nose. That always happens to me.”

She sipped at the contents of her mug with theatrical relish, then licked her lips and set the drink aside.

“I’m going to go start the washing machine so you can have your regular clothes back,” she said. “I won’t be gone long.”

Eyeing Ryan’s defiant expression, she decided it would be prudent to add, “If you move off those chairs or do anything except eat and drink while I’m out of the kitchen, I’ll have to put you back in with your daddy like he said. Got that?”

Neither boy spoke, but Bree was certain they both understood. Headstrong Ryan was giving her a dirty look, and Bud was clutching his teddy bear so tightly it was leaving a damp spot on the front of his T-shirt.

As soon as Mitch was alone he wasted no time stripping and jumping into the shower. Thanks to the raging storm, the kids had only picked up a few ticks on their trek up the hill, but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. No doubt the boys would be itching like crazy by tomorrow. The power of suggestion was already doing a number on him.

He soaped and scrubbed from head to foot. If he couldn’t dig his car out of the mud in the morning he’d borrow transportation and run into town to buy something to kill whatever bugs had taken up residence in Barney’s thick coat—and in the cabin. Until then, he’d see that the little dog stayed confined to this one room of his hostess’s home to avoid contaminating it, too.

Mitch was chuckling when he stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry.

Panting, the little dog looked at him with shining ebony eyes and cocked its head.

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” Mitch said. That was all the attention it took for the pup to begin wagging its tail so hard its whole rear end wiggled with delight. “You, and the lady who owns this place. I’ll bet she’d have a fit if she knew we’d probably brought bugs into her fancy house.”

Barney whirled in tight circles at Mitch’s feet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so adorable you can get away with just about anything. Like those kids of mine. I hate to have to start out by being tough with them but I know they need discipline. Desperately.”

The little dog’s antics heightened to include a frenzied dash around the room. Mitch said, “Whoa. Come here.” He held out his hand, and the dog skidded to a stop and looked at him with clear devotion.

He bent to pet it. Barney threw himself on the floor at the man’s feet and rolled onto his back in complete surrender.

Mitch laughed as he scratched the dog’s exposed belly. “Now that’s the kind of love and respect I want from my boys. I wish they were as easy to win over as you are, little guy.”

Barney licked his hand.

“Yeah, all I have to do is figure out a way to show them how much I care, prove how much I’ve missed them, and make them behave—all at the same time.” He snorted in derision. “The way things have been going, I figure that shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty years.”

When Bree returned, the cookies and cocoa were gone and Bud was sporting a sticky chocolate mustache. She could tell the children were fighting sleep.

“Okay, guys. Time for bed,” she said. “Use your napkins to wipe off your faces and hands, and let’s go upstairs.” Thankfully, there was no suggestion of rebellion this time.

Ryan made the choice of sleeping arrangements for himself and his brother. “We don’t need separate beds. We’re used to sleepin’ together,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’d get scared if he woke up and I wasn’t there. You know how it is.”

Brianne smiled. “Actually, I don’t. I never had any brothers or sisters.”

“Who’d you play with?” The eight-year-old looked astounded. Mimicking her motions, he turned down one edge of the embroidered coverlet while Bree did the same on the opposite side of the double bed.

“I had a few friends I used to hang out with,” she said. “We’d jump rope or swim or maybe go shopping together.”

“Girl stuff. Didn’t you ever wrestle or play ball on a team or nothin’?”

“Afraid not. My father tried to teach me to play baseball like a boy, but I never managed to please him.”

“Bet you didn’t even have a dog, huh?”

“No. My father didn’t like animals very much, either.” She grew pensive. “There was a stray cat I made friends with once. It was gray, with white paws and a white star on its chest. By being very patient, I finally managed to get it to trust me enough to take food out of my hand.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. It disappeared.”

“Probably died,” he said sagely. Pausing, he lowered his voice and added, “So did our mother.”

“I know. Your father told me. I’m sorry.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it and looked away.

Brianne helped Bud climb into bed. She stood aside so Ryan could join him before she carefully pulled the sheet over them both. Bud curled into a ball around his teddy bear, his eyes tightly shut. Ryan looked at her.

She tenderly stroked his damp hair off his forehead. “If you ever decide you want to talk about your mother, I’ll be glad to listen.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about. She’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

Bree could see his lower lip quivering in spite of his tough-guy affectation. Of course he was hurting. He was a little boy who’d spent the past few years of his short life mostly with his mother. And now she was gone. Forever. There must be some way to comfort him.

“Maybe you’ll see your mother in heaven some day,” she offered. To her chagrin, Ryan’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“That stuff’s for suckers,” he said, swallowing a sob.

Perched on the edge of the bed, Brianne took his small hand and gazed at him. No matter how lost, how far from God she’d felt since her mother’s death, she knew she should try to give the child some semblance of hope. “Oh, honey, Jesus said heaven was real. Who told you it wasn’t?”

“My mama.”

“How about your daddy? What does he think?”

Ryan shook his head. “Mama said he was stupid ’cause he believed all that ch-church stuff.”

“I see.”

Brianne’s vision misted with tears of empathy, of sympathy, for everyone involved. She wished mightily for the words to reassure the grieving child but found none. There was no way to go back and change things for Ryan and his brother, any more than she could change the painful facts of her mother’s demise, no matter how much she wanted to. All she could do at this point was continue to offer honest compassion and hope for the best.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek, then stood. “Go to sleep, honey. You’ve had a rough night. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

The child sniffled and nodded.

“Good. Sleep tight.”

Fleeing the room, Bree barely made it to the hallway before tears spilled out to trickle down her cheeks. She leaned against the wall and dashed them away.

“Those poor children. What can I do? How can I help them?”

Thoughts of turning to prayer immediately assailed her. She disregarded the urge. All the prayers in the world hadn’t helped her come to grips with her mother’s suicide. Where had God been when she’d been a lost, grieving twelve-year-old, weeping for the one person who had truly loved her? How could she hope to help anyone else cope with tragedy when she hadn’t been able to help herself?

The only positive thing was what Ryan had said about his father. If Mitch Fowler was committed to Christ enough to raise his late wife’s ire, that was a definite plus. At least he’d be able to counsel his children based on his personal faith, which was a whole lot better than the self-centered reactions she’d gotten from her father in the midst of her despair.

Bree didn’t see the Bible as a magical cure-all the way some people did, as in, “Take two verses and call the doctor in the morning,” but she did believe it could be useful for sorting out life’s problems, including how best to raise kids. And judging by what she’d learned so far, Mitch was going to need all the help he could get, human or otherwise.

Bree pushed away from the wall and straightened. Though she didn’t understand what her part in the children’s healing might be, she felt included somehow.

That, alone, was a miracle.

A rather disturbing one.

Chapter Four

D eep in thought and barely watching where she was going, Bree almost crashed into Mitch at the base of the stairway. “Oh! You startled me!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mitch said. He grinned amiably and propped one shoulder against the archway leading into the kitchen. “I heard the buzzer on the dryer. Nobody seemed to be around so I fished my clothes out, got dressed and came looking for the boys.”

“They’re upstairs, asleep.”

“Which is where you’d be, too, if we hadn’t showed up. I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bree said.

The only clear thought she could muster was that it should be illegal for any man to look as casually appealing as Mitch Fowler did at that moment. His dark hair was tousled. His jeans were snug from the clothes dryer. And his clean short-sleeve pajama top left altogether too much arm muscle showing.

“I still feel responsible. At least let me clean up the mess we made by the front door.”

“That’s not necessary. I already soaked up the water. I have a woman who comes in twice a week to clean. She’ll polish all the floors when she comes on Thursday. Nobody but me will see them till then.”

“You live here all alone?” He was frowning. “In this great big house?”

“Yes.”

Bree hurried past him into the kitchen, knowing without a doubt that he’d follow. She opened the refrigerator to check her food supplies, using the door as a convenient physical barrier between them. “Do you think you’ll be staying for breakfast?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Are we invited?”

“If you like pancakes, you are,” she said, leaning in. “I usually eat an omelette, but I seem to be a bit short of eggs.”

“You’re sure we won’t be a bother?”

Bree had been bending to peer behind a carton of milk and hadn’t heard him clearly when he’d spoken. The low rumble of his voice had, however, sent a shiver zinging up her spine. She straightened abruptly to ask, “What?” and found him standing close behind her. Very close.

Acting on instinct, she held her breath to listen for his answer. If her pulse hadn’t been hammering in her head like the percussion section of an overzealous high school band, she might have been able to hear what he was saying. Not that her befuddled brain could have translated his words into relevant concepts.

Her senses were bombarded by his clean, masculine scent, his overpowering presence and his exhilarating voice. Plus, his warm breath was tickling the tiny hairs behind her ear. Considering all that, Brianne figured she was lucky to remain standing, let alone hope to make sense of anything he said.

Awed by her reaction to his innocent nearness, she wanted to climb into the refrigerator and pull the door shut behind her. Instead, she sidled away and rounded the center island workstation to put something more solid between her and the attractive man.

Mitch paused and watched her, his stance wide, his arms folded across his broad chest. “I’m not dangerous, you know.”

“Of course you’re not! Whatever gave you the idea that I thought so?”

“You did. The way you’re acting. I had no idea you were here all alone. And I didn’t cook up some nefarious plan to steal the silver or kidnap the rich heiress, if that’s what you’re thinking. Believe me, I’d much rather be back home in my cabin, sleeping peacefully and listening to the rain drumming on the tin roof.”

“I—I’m sure you would.”

“Then if you’ll just tell me where my boys are, I’ll go and join them.”

He sounded put out. Brianne did her best to keep her voice pleasant. “First door on the right, top of the stairs. There are two double beds in that room. I hope it’s okay. Ryan picked it out.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“The boys are sharing. If you need more room, the sofa makes into another bed, and there’s extra linen on the shelves in the walk-in closet. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Mitch started to leave, then paused. “Forget about breakfast. We’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

“There’s no need to rush off.”

“Thanks, but now that I think about it, I want to see how badly the cabin is damaged and dig my car out so I can go to town for more supplies. The earlier I get started, the better. That is, providing the rain has stopped by then.”

“Wait a minute. What about the boys? You don’t intend to drag them around in the woods with you like you did tonight, do you? I can watch them for you.” Bree couldn’t believe the idiotic offer she’d just blurted out!

“They’re not babies.”

Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “They’re still way too young to be traipsing up and down hills with you like they’re on some lost safari.”

“Good point.” Mitch considered alternatives for a moment while he searched for truth in Brianne’s beautiful blue eyes. Maybe she hadn’t been trying to get rid of him the way he’d thought. She was right about some things, like the boys’ physical limitations.

“Okay,” he said, “I might have breakfast here, then go out alone, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the kids for a couple of hours.”

“Of course not,” she said, amazed that she honestly meant it. “They were wonderful tonight.”

Mitch snorted a wry chuckle. “Are we talking about the same two—an eight-year-old with a giant chip on his shoulder and a six-year-old with a teddy-bear fixation?”

“Sounds like the ones I met. What I don’t understand is how you could let their mother just take them away from you the way she did.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have all night.”

He decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to explain. “When I met Liz I thought she was the most amazing woman I’d ever known, always fun to be with, always exciting. I didn’t realize she was also unstable and flighty. Unfortunately, once she got it into her head that she’d be happier away from me, she was almost impossible to locate. She was too unpredictable.”

Even from halfway across the room, Bree could see the muscles of his jaw clenching. Perhaps she shouldn’t have probed so deeply but she was interested in learning more about the children’s lives. “That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“What about school? Didn’t Ryan go to school?”

“Not often. He’ll have some catching up to do this year but he’s smart. He can do it. Bud was too young until recently, so he didn’t miss as much.”

“How about getting them a tutor?”

“Why? Were you planning on funding a private recovery effort?” There was a stubborn edge to his voice when he added, “I assure you, Ms. Bailey, I can take care of my family without anybody else’s help.”

If he had been the only one involved, Bree wouldn’t have considered speaking her mind. It would have been easier to simply give up and walk away. It would also have been wrong. Like it or not, she found herself in a position to aid those poor little boys, and she intended to take every advantage of it. If that included alienating their hardheaded father for their sakes, so be it.

She boldly rounded the end of the workstation island and approached him. “It’s not what you think that matters, Mr. Fowler. What’s important is what’s best for your sons. Don’t let your pride keep you from accepting whatever assistance comes your way.”

Mitch made a rumbling sound low in his throat and shook his head. “Since you seem to have all the answers, suppose you tell me how to get those three years of my boys’ lives back.”

“Believe me, if I had the ability to fix the past, your children aren’t the only ones I’d help.”

“You think I need fixing, too, I suppose?”

“Actually, you may,” Bree said with the lift of an eyebrow and a wry smile, “but I happened to be referring to myself just now.”

“Oh?”

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

Heading for the doorway, she’d planned to walk out past him. If the overhead lights hadn’t flickered at that moment she would have kept going. Instead, she hesitated and sucked in a quick breath. “What was that?”

“The storm is probably causing power problems,” Mitch said calmly. “It’s not unusual up here in the hills.”

Losing her electricity and having to grope around in a pitch-dark house alone didn’t frighten her one bit. Having to do it with Mitch Fowler underfoot, however, was a decidedly unsettling thought!

“Everything is unusual here,” she said. “For such beautiful country, the Ozark Mountains certainly have a lot of drawbacks.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. If you had a gas generator for backup, like I do, you wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not you lost power.”

Bree huffed in mock disgust. “I don’t suppose you brought your generator with you.”

“It’s much too heavy to carry,” Mitch said as if explaining to a simpleton. “Don’t you have a flashlight?”

“Yes! I know there’s one around here somewhere. Let me see…” Turning in a slow circle, Brianne frowned. “I think I may have put it in the pantry.”

“Then I suggest you go get it.” He looked at the lights as they flickered repeatedly. “Soon.”

Bree had traveled less than three paces when the lights flashed one more time. Then everything went black.

“Don’t move,” Mitch warned. “Let your eyes adjust to the darkness first.”

“I know that.” Tension was making her sound waspish.

“Excuse me. I was just trying to help.”

“I know that, too,” Bree said. “You stay put. I’m used to this place. I can find my way around.”

“Make use of the lightning. You’ll be able to see a little better when it flashes. It’ll help you get your bearings.”

“Is that more of your homesteading wisdom?”

Mitch chuckled softly. “No. Just plain male logic. Something women don’t understand.”

She was glad he couldn’t see the exasperated face she was making at him. “Next, you’ll be telling me that female logic is an oxymoron.”

“Isn’t it?”

If Mitch hadn’t known he was in the company of a well-bred, refined lady he’d have sworn he heard her give him a raspberry!

The sky outside the kitchen windows was alive. Clouds glowed a misty gray, dimming and brightening unevenly as if lit from behind by some monstrous, out-of-control searchlight.

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