“Did you think we wouldn’t recognize you?”

“I may look like him, but I’m not your father,” Joe said to the two children gazing at him as if he were the villain in a horror movie. “My name is Joe Smith.”

“That sounds like a made-up name,” the boy accused.

“It’s not. If you wait just a minute, I’ll go inside and get my wallet. It has my driver’s license in it.”

“It’s probably fake.”

“If you’re not going to accept my license as proof, what will satisfy you?”

The little girl whispered something to her brother, who then turned and said, “Take off your shirt. Or are you chicken?”

Joe almost chuckled at the absurdity of the request. Two kids were accusing him of being their deadbeat dad—and demanding that he remove his shirt to prove it. He decided to humor the kids rather than argue with them. He’d do pretty much anything to show them he wasn’t their father. He pulled the bottom of his T-shirt from his pants and lifted it over his head, leaving him bare chested and the object of their wide-eyed stares.

“It is you!”

Dear Reader,

What is it about fathers?

Alex, the ten-year-old boy in this story, wants one so badly that he goes to great lengths to find his missing dad. That’s because a father holds a very special place in his child’s heart. I know mine does, and it’s been a while since I was ten. My father was my first hero, chasing away the monsters under my bed at night and carrying me on his shoulders to keep my feet from getting stuck in the snow. He taught me how to ride a bike, to drive a car and above all, how a woman should expect to be treated by a man.

I’m no longer a little girl, but I haven’t stopped looking at my father as a hero. He has no medals of honor or commendations for bravery, but he is kind, gentle, honest and dependable. Most important, he’s given his children a great gift. He’s loved their mother for more than sixty years.

Alex’s search for his father leads him to an important discovery. He finds a hero who holds a special place not only in his heart, but in his mother’s, too. I hope you’ll enjoy their story.

Sincerely,

Pamela Bauer

Two Much Alike
Pamela Bauer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For two very special sets of twins:

My dad, Clifford Ronning, and his brother, Clarence and Marilyn and Marlene Muehlbauer, two dear friends who introduced me to my real-life hero, their brother Gerr

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

PROLOGUE

“DID YOU GET IT?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy.” Alex Harper unzipped his backpack and pulled out a photograph. “My mom threw out most of his pictures. I found this one in a box in the basement.” He gave the photo to Josh Gallivan, who studied it closely.

“He’s a sailor?”

“He was a sailor. Now he’s a bum.”

Josh glanced at the photograph, then at Alex and then back at the photo again. “He looks normal.”

“He’s not. I’m just glad I don’t look like him. I don’t, do I?” Alex’s tone dared his best friend to disagree.

Again Josh looked from the picture to Alex. “Naw, you don’t look like him at all. He could be a total stranger.”

He was a total stranger as far as Alex was concerned. With each passing birthday, Alex’s memories of his father had dimmed, until now—at the age of ten—his father was simply a face on a piece of paper, a man who smelled like cigars and didn’t like to get his pants wrinkled.

As Josh slipped the photo into the scanner, Alex turned his attention to the monitor, waiting for the image to appear on the screen. He wasn’t nervous, yet his stomach felt funny—the same way it had that time he’d fallen out of the big oak tree in the backyard.

“Here it comes,” Josh said, as the image appeared on the screen in startling clarity. “Okay, we’ve got it. Now all we have to do is cut and paste it to your poster.” Josh moved the mouse with a familiarity Alex envied. Known as the biggest computer geek in the fourth grade, Josh knew more about computers than some adults. Most kids thought it was because his dad was a programmer and Josh had had his very own computer since he was big enough to sit on a chair. Alex, however, knew the real reason. Josh was super smart.

“Done,” he boasted proudly.

Alex gazed at the monitor. At the top of the screen in large letters were the words “Have You Seen This Man?” Occupying the rest of the space was the picture Josh had just scanned. A shiver rippled through Alex.

“What happened to the stuff at the bottom?” he asked.

“It’s there.” Josh scrolled down the page until the message typed in capital letters appeared. Then he read aloud, “His name is Dennis Harper. He’s a deadbeat who deserted his family. If you see him, call me immediately.” He rattled off the digits of Alex’s phone number. “Well?”

“It’s okay…I guess,” Alex said tentatively.

“I think it’d be better if we put your picture on it, too,” Josh suggested. “My mom’s in advertising and she says that if you want to get people’s attention, you should use pictures of kids. You do want people to take a good look at the poster, don’t you?”

Alex thought for a moment. “You really think it would help?”

Josh nodded, then reached across his desk to a cork bulletin board where push pins held half a dozen wallet-size photos in place. He grabbed the one Alex had given him at the start of the school year and placed it in the scanner.

A few moments later, he said, “Now we’ll print.” He hit another key and almost immediately a paper emerged from the printer. He pulled it from the tray and handed it to Alex. “What do you think?”

Alex thought it was weird to see his picture on the same paper as his father’s. A deadbeat dad and a searching son. They weren’t exactly the typical father and son.

Not that Alex cared. He didn’t need a dad and he didn’t care if his ever came back. He just wanted to find him so the judge could make his dad pay what he owed his mom. Then she wouldn’t have to work so much. If she had someone to help pay the bills, she could take some time off to spend with him and his sister and brother this summer. They might even get to take a vacation. And get some new clothes instead of having to wear the stuff his mom found at garage sales. Maybe he could even get his own computer and show the other kids at school that he was just as smart as Josh.

“Well, is it okay or isn’t it?” Josh asked. “You want me to make copies?”

With his father’s face staring at him, Alex found that suddenly he wasn’t sure. For so long he’d wanted to find his dad, yet now that there was a possibility he might just do it, he found the prospect a little scary. What if his mom was right? What if they were better off without Dennis Harper in their lives?

He looked at Josh. “This isn’t a dumb idea, is it?”

“Uh-uh. When Billy Carson’s cat was missing, he found it by printing up posters and putting them all over town. If it’ll work for a cat, why wouldn’t it work for a person?”

Alex realized that Josh thought he was questioning the wisdom of printing the posters, not his attempt to locate his father. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his friend wouldn’t understand why he might have second thoughts. After all, Josh had a father. It was true his parents were divorced, but his dad came every other weekend to pick him up and take him places. He also played catch with Josh and helped coach his little league team. He hadn’t abandoned his kids after the divorce. He wasn’t anything like Dennis Harper.

“Do you want me to print them or not?” Josh asked a bit impatiently, when Alex still hadn’t given him the go-ahead.

Alex hesitated only a moment before saying, “Yeah. It’s about time somebody found that dead-beat.”

CHAPTER ONE

JOE SMITH WAS ON HIS WAY into the hardware store when he heard a voice behind him say, “Someone’s looking for you.”

For a moment Joe felt trapped. It was an instinctive reaction caused by a fear that the identity he’d worked so hard to conceal might be exposed. It didn’t matter that during the two years he’d lived in northern Minnesota, no one had suspected that he was anyone but Joe Smith, a man looking for a quiet life along the shores of Lake Superior. He knew, however, that the past had a way of catching up with a person, especially when that past contained secrets.

Hoping today wasn’t that day, he forced himself to turn around. Standing behind him was the owner of Whispering Pines, a resort on the outskirts of the small town of Grand Marais.

“Hey, Pete. How’s it going?” Joe greeted him with a handshake.

“It’s going good. How about yourself?”

“Can’t complain.” Joe knew he needed to get right to the point. “Did you say someone’s looking for me?”

“Yup. One of the guests at the lodge,” the older man responded. “Says he wants to talk to you about a fly-in.”

The muscles in Joe’s body began to uncoil. He should have known that it would be someone wanting to go fishing, not a snoop asking questions.

“Did you tell him to contact Blue Waters?”

“Sure I did, but I suspect they told him what they tell most tourists about this time of year. If you don’t book ahead, you’re out of luck. And you know how these rich folks are. They think they can get whatever they want by flapping a few extra bills in someone’s face.”

“How big of bills?” Joe asked with a sly smile.

“Big enough to turn my head,” Pete admitted with a chuckle. “Seriously, it could be a nice little side job for you,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “I know you have a loyalty to Blue Waters, but you really should think about being your own boss.”

Joe looked out at Lake Superior and squinted as the sun bounced off the glistening water. “It’s a lot of work running your own business.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” the other man said with an understanding shake of his head. “But you’re a good pilot, Joe. And as for the responsibility and hard work…well, you’re practically running Blue Waters right now.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Pete, but I’m content to leave the problems behind when I go home. Blue Waters has been good to me.”

It was true. Joe had worried that with a new identity he’d have trouble finding work as a pilot. Although he’d logged a considerable number of hours in the air while in the Navy, they were hours he’d been forced to leave behind, along with his name, when he’d moved to Minnesota. Not wanting to risk being traced because of his license, he’d started over, taking flying lessons and passing all the requirements of a new pilot. If anyone at Blue Waters thought it was odd that he appeared to be a much better pilot than his experience indicated, they didn’t comment on it. He was able to work in relative anonymity, without any questions about his past, without any enquiries into his personal life.

It was the way Joe wanted it and the way he needed it to be. It would have been nice to run his own flying service, but it was a risk he couldn’t take. Running a business meant regulations and regulations meant red tape and inspectors. What he couldn’t afford was to leave a paper trail that would allow the wrong people to come looking for him. He’d made a new life for himself, deliberately choosing Smith as a surname because it was common and hard to trace. There was no point in taking a chance that someone would discover that he’d once been somebody else.

“Besides, with my dad’s health being what it is…” He let the sentence trail off, knowing perfectly well the lodge’s owner would deduce that Joe worked for someone else because he needed to take care of his father.

Which wasn’t a lie. A head injury and subsequent stroke had forever changed his father. Joe hadn’t anticipated that the strong, imposing man who had run his home with the same discipline he’d used when commanding his naval troops would ever need to lean on anyone—and especially not his son. The man who had been the epitome of authority now found himself dependent.

“I understand what you’re saying, Joe,” Pete said, his eyes as sympathetic as his tone. “How is the Admiral?”

“He’s doing all right,” he answered honestly.

Pete shook his head. “The brain’s a complicated thing, isn’t it?”

Joe nodded. “It is. He can tell you exactly what he paid for every car he ever purchased, yet he has trouble making change for a dollar.”

“How’s Letty been working out for you?”

Letty was a retired nurse Joe had hired to look after his father whenever he was gone. “She’s been great. She certainly has made my life a lot easier.”

“I knew she would.” Pete nodded toward the hardware store. “You going in or coming out?”

“In. Need to get a washer for a faucet. What about you?”

“I’m on my way to get my ears lowered,” he said, glancing in the direction of the barbershop down the street. “But I’m glad I ran into you. About this fella that’s looking for you…should I tell him to stop by?”

What Joe didn’t want was people coming to his place. His home at the lake was his sanctuary. The fewer people who visited there, the less complicated his life would be. “I’ll tell you what. How about if I give him a call when I get back to the house?” he suggested.

“Good enough.” Pete gave him the man’s name, then bid Joe goodbye, leaving him with a “You take care now.”

Joe certainly would do just that. He’d taken a lot of care from the very first day he’d arrived in northern Minnesota. He’d been careful to mind his own business, careful not to raise anyone’s curiosity about his or his father’s past, and especially careful not to give anyone a reason to believe he was anything but a concerned son who’d brought his ailing father to spend what was left of his life in the peaceful woods near the Canadian border.

No question—Joe would take very good care not to let his past catch up with him.

“I WISH I COULD GO WITH,” ten-year-old Emma said on a sigh as she watched her mother apply mascara to lashes that were already long and lush.

“You wouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Frannie Harper told her daughter.

“Yes, I would. Auntie Lois is so much fun.”

Lois was fun, Frannie thought as memories of their last night out together filtered through her mind. Latin music, salsa dancing, Corona beer, handsome men.

“Sorry, love, this is a night for grown-ups only.”

And there weren’t many of those in her life, Frannie acknowledged as she put aside the mascara and went to the closet. Being a single parent, she’d had little time for anything except work and taking care of her family. Nor did she have the money for going out with the girls—something she was reminded of when she opened her closet door.

She grimaced as she pushed aside hangers holding garments that should have been relegated to the rag bag years ago, but still constituted her wardrobe. She didn’t have a single thing that could be classified as trendy. Practical yes, trendy no. She knew the kind of places her sister frequented, and they were filled with people wearing the latest styles.

She sighed, knowing she really had only one choice: Old Faithful. It was a black sheath with a touch of glitter, a dress she figured she must have worn at least a hundred times. “Timeless” was how the clerk who’d sold it to her had described it. “Boring” was how Frannie had come to look at it. She dragged it from the hanger and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror.

“One hundred and one,” she mumbled to herself as she tugged the dress over her head.

“One hundred and one what, Mommy?” Emma asked.

“Nothing, sweetie. I was wondering if I’ve worn this dress a hundred times yet,” she said as she straightened the hemline.

“I’d wear it a million times if it were mine. It’s so pretty,” Emma said with a childlike sincerity.

Frannie sighed. “It’s old.”

“You said there’s nothing wrong with old,” Emma reminded her.

Frannie smiled.So my words come back to haunt me. “You’re right. Old is comfortable.”

When Frannie spritzed her neck with a cologne Lois had given her for her birthday, Emma said, “You never wear perfume. Are you going looking for men?”

She put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue. “You know better than to even ask that question. I have all the men in my life that I need.”

Emma slipped her feet into Frannie’s high-heel sandals and walked over to the mirror where she pirouetted on wobbly legs. “I’m never getting married.”

As much as Frannie was tempted to say, “Smart girl,” she simply said, “Never is a long time.”

“I know, but I hate boys. They’re stupid. That’s why I’m never getting married,” Emma insisted. “I’m glad you don’t have a boyfriend. They’re too messy.”

Curious, Frannie asked, “Messy how?”

“Ever since Ashley Wilcott’s mom got a boyfriend, their life’s been messed up. They don’t get to dog-sit for the humane society anymore, Ashley can’t eat her dinner on a TV tray and if she leaves even one little sip of milk in her glass he tells her she’s wasting food and makes her do extra chores. Ashley says he’s always at her house butting into their business, too.”

Frannie felt a wave of sympathy for Ashley’s mother. She knew firsthand how difficult it was for a single mom to have any kind of personal life. When Lois had finally convinced Frannie she should start dating again, it hadn’t taken long for her to realize that whether or not the kids were with her physically, they were always with her emotionally. And the few men she had brought home had been put through an inquisition no human should have to endure. Frannie had decided a long time ago that life was complicated enough without adding romance to the picture.

Just then the doorbell rang, and Emma kicked off the shoes and exclaimed in delight, “Auntie Lois is here!”

“Tell her I’m not quite ready, but I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

As Frannie ran a brush through her blond hair, she could hear the commotion her sister’s presence generated. It had always been that way. Her kids hovered around their aunt like bees around a flower.

By the time Frannie went into the living room, however, the bees and the flower were nowhere in sight. She poked her head inside the boys’ room and, as she’d expected, saw her children gathered around Lois. She held a bright yellow piece of paper in her hands that Alex snatched away when he noticed his mother.

Normally Frannie would have asked what it was they’d been looking at, but her sister’s appearance had her mouth agape. Lois’s short hair, which normally fell in soft blond layers, was the color of a red pepper, sticking straight out from her head like porcupine quills. She had on black leather pants, a matching leather bandeau top that revealed more of her midsection than it covered and platform shoes that added three inches to her already tall figure. More than trendy, Frannie thought.

“Like my new look?” she asked Frannie with a crooked grin.

“If you open your mouth and I see metal, I’m not going anywhere with you,” Frannie warned.

Lois grinned, then stuck out her tongue. There were no rings of any sort piercing it. “You know I hate pain. The hair’s cool, isn’t it?” she asked, then stuck out her hands. “Look. My nails are the exact same color as my hair.”

“They are!” Emma exclaimed. “Cool!” She examined her aunt’s long, slender fingers carefully.

“Is it permanent?” Frannie asked, nodding toward her sister’s red head.

“Heavens, no. It washes out. I have to be in court tomorrow morning.”

“Is it a murder case?” Alex asked, his eyes widening.

“No, just someone who needs help,” Lois answered.

“I’m going to be a lawyer and help people when I grow up, too,” Emma said, gazing at her aunt with adoration.

“Me, too,” said three-year-old Luke, who often repeated everything his older sister said.

Lois ruffled her nephew’s hair affectionately. “I thought you were going to be a cowboy.”

“I think he’s going to be a demolition man. He destroys everything,” Alex said dryly.

“He’s not that bad,” Emma chastised her twin.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the baby-sitter.

After going over a list of instructions with the teenager, Frannie gave each of her kids a kiss and hug, then headed out the front door with her sister.

“Is that for us?” Frannie asked when she saw a taxi at the curb.

“Yes. I figured you wouldn’t want to take your car, and you know how much I hate driving downtown. Besides, someone wanted to do me a favor,” she said as she ushered her sister toward the cab.

“And this is the favor? A chauffeur?” she asked, as a thickset man hopped out of the taxi to get the door for them.

“Yes. This is Lenny.” She tossed a smile at the man who fussed over them as if they were celebrities.

Lenny, Frannie discovered, was the brother of a woman Lois had counseled through a domestic crisis. Relieved that the man who’d made life so miserable for his sister had been put behind bars, Lenny had insisted on showing his appreciation by giving Lois free taxi service on his night off.

“It will be nice not to have to worry about traffic and parking,” Frannie said as she settled into the back seat.

“Yes, it will,” Lois agreed. As soon as the taxi had pulled away from the curb, she said, “You didn’t tell me that Alex is trying to find Dennis.”

Frannie sighed. “You know how he feels about money. He thinks we don’t have enough and that getting Dennis’s child support payments would make our lives much easier.”

“It would,” Lois said candidly. “That’s why you were looking for him, too. Remember?”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t remind me.”

“Frannie, he should pay. He’s their father.”

“At one time I felt that way, but not now. I don’t want his money and I certainly don’t want him back in our lives.” She hated the bitterness that always managed to creep into her voice at the mention of her ex.

“Well, Alex does, and he’s printed up a couple of hundred posters with Dennis’s picture on them. He’s going to put them all over town.”

A knot formed in Frannie’s stomach.

When she was silent, Lois asked, “You do know about the posters, don’t you?”

“I knew he was thinking about doing them. We talked about it a couple of weeks ago, but I thought I’d convinced him it wouldn’t accomplish anything.” Unsure if she needed to persuade her sister, she added, “It won’t, you know.”

To her relief, Lois said, “I didn’t say it would. If he hasn’t been found by now, I doubt anyone’s going to locate him. We know Dennis Harper’s not in the Twin Cities and chances of him being anywhere in the Midwest are next to none.”

“Which means it’s just a waste of time,” Frannie concluded.

“Not to Alex it isn’t.” She shot her sister a sideways glance. “That’s what’s really bugging you, isn’t it? The fact that Alex still thinks about his father.”

“Of course it bothers me,” Frannie admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it. “My kids have spent more time with their dentist than they have with their own father. Dennis was never a dad to them, just a man who drifted in and out of their lives when it was convenient for him. He doesn’t deserve to have any of their thoughts and he certainly isn’t worthy of a son like Alex. Believe me, if I had it in my power to make Alex forget Dennis ever existed, I would do it in a minute.”

“But he did exist. And it’s something Alex needs to deal with in his own way.”

“Why?” she cried out in frustration, although she already knew the answer. So did her sister, who chose not to say anything.

After a few moments of silence, Frannie said, “I hate knowing Alex even thinks about the man.”

“It’s normal, Frannie,” Lois said, putting a hand on her sister’s arm.

She chewed on her upper lip as she nodded. “It just seems as if every time I think I’ve managed to let go of my anger, I realize I’ll probably always be angry at Dennis. Not because of what he did to me, but because of what he continues to do to my kids.”

“Your kids are going to be just fine,” Lois insisted. “They’re bright, well-adjusted, and happy—and that’s because of you, not Dennis. So put him out of your mind. He’s not worthy of your thoughts—not even the nasty ones,” she said, grinning.

Frannie didn’t return the smile, prompting Lois to ask, “Hey, you’re not going to let this spoil our evening, are you?”

She shook her head, although the enthusiasm she’d felt earlier had waned. “I do wish Alex had shown me the poster himself.”

“I think he wanted to test the waters with me first,” Lois remarked. “And I’m glad he did. That poster has your phone number on it.”

Frannie groaned. “Tell me that doesn’t mean I’m going to have creeps calling my house in the middle of the night.”

“You won’t,” Lois stated confidently. “I suggested Alex use one of my office numbers, instead. I told him it was much safer to do that, and he said he’d have Josh redo the posters.”

“Thank you. That means that if by some strange twist of fate someone does call with information, you’ll be the first to know and you can tell me.”

“He’s not going to hear anything.”

Frannie hoped her sister was right. It had been a long, painful struggle, but she’d put her life back together after Dennis had done his best to ruin it. She’d made a good life for her children, and she wasn’t about to let him disrupt it again.

For the rest of the taxi ride, Lois talked about the place where they were meeting several of their friends. It was a new club that had become popular among singles. Frannie listened and made appropriate responses, but her thoughts weren’t on the evening ahead. She stared out the window at the passing scenery, watching trees and houses and storefronts disappear in a blur and thinking how her life with Dennis had been like a car ride.

They’d started a journey together and reached a destination, but everything in between had been of little consequence. All the places they’d been, the things they’d seen were gone, just like the passing scenery. There was nothing memorable about that journey—except for the children—and that was the part of the ride Dennis wanted to forget.

“This is it.” Lois’s announcement interrupted her musings. The taxi stopped in front of an old brick building in the warehouse district. The only indication there was a club inside was the line of people waiting to gain admission. “Come on. We need to find Shannon and Misti.”

Frannie wasn’t sure how they’d find the other two women in the crowd, but she was glad when they did; being with her women friends was exactly what she needed to push all thoughts of Dennis Harper out of her mind. They moved from club to club, each one a little bit noisier than the previous one, all of them perfect backdrops for the laughter they shared. It felt good to have fun, and when it was time to go home, not even fatigue could stop Frannie from wishing the night wasn’t over.

Their final stop was a twenty-four hour deli where they ate chocolate desserts and rehashed the encounters they’d had that evening. Frannie couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much, and made a promise that she wasn’t going to let so much time pass before she went out with them again.

She and Lois were both grateful they had Lenny to drive them home. After saying good-night to her sister, Frannie dragged her feet up the walk to the front door. She paid the baby-sitter, then stood on the front porch until the teen was safely in the house next door.

Then she went inside the place that had been home for the past five years. A quick peek into Emma’s room assured her the little girl was asleep. Next she went to the boys’ room and poked her head in to make sure everything was all right. She was about to leave when she remembered the posters. Unable to resist, she tiptoed over to the desk and opened the top drawer.

A small night-light in the shape of a baseball was just strong enough for her to see the stack of flyers. In the near darkness, Dennis’s face stared up at her. She squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t open them again until she’d pushed the drawer shut. Angry for letting her curiosity get the better of her, she quietly left the room.

Later, as she lay in bed, all thoughts of her night out with the girls had vanished. There was only one thing on her mind: Alex’s deadbeat father.

“MOM, LUKE’S BEEN MESSING with my baseball cards again,” Alex cried out in frustration as he stormed into the kitchen, his faux-leather album spread wide so she could see the empty pockets.

“No, I didn’t,” the three-year-old denied.

“Yes, you did,” Alex said, then turned back to his mother.

“I told you to keep them out of his reach,” Frannie said absently, her attention on the negatives she held up to the light.

“They were out of reach,” Alex said in exasperation. “I had them on top of the dresser, but he’s like a monkey, climbing all over the place. You either need to put him in a cage or give me my own room.”

She clicked her tongue in reprobation. “He’s not a monkey, he’s your brother—he doesn’t belong in a cage. And you know you can’t have your own room.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Watch all my stuff get ruined?”

“They’re only dumb old trading cards,” Emma said, standing at the counter buttering her toast.

He shot her a look of disdain. “Go ahead and call them dumb. They’re gonna be worth a lot of money someday.”

Emma grunted in disbelief.

“They are! Trading cards are big business. I heard a guy got a thousand dollars for a Cal Ripken.”

Frannie raised one eyebrow. “Do you have a Cal Ripken?”

“No, but some of my cards will be worth something someday if they’re not all wrecked. Mom, you’ve got to do something. He’s always into everything…my homework, my cards…everything. Can’t I please have my own room?”

“That would mean putting Luke in with Emma,” Frannie said, telling him with her tone what a bad idea that was.

“He can’t. He’s not a girl,” Emma said.

“It’s not fair,” Alex said, slamming his album down on the table. “Luke’s a monster.” It was a comment that caused the three-year-old to chuckle with delight.

“It’s just a stage he’s in,” Frannie said consolingly. “It won’t be long before you’re the best of friends.”

Alex made a sound of disbelief.

“You should read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, ” Emma suggested. “Peter has the same problem with his brother Fudge that you have with Luke.”

“I don’t want to read a book. I want my cards,” Alex demanded.

“Luke, did you take your brother’s baseball cards?” Frannie asked.

Luke giggled again, then ran from the room. When he returned, he clutched two trading cards in his fists. Alex grabbed them from him.

“Books are make-believe,” Alex said to Emma. “This isn’t.” He held up two dog-eared cards for their inspection. “Look! Chuck Knoblauch and Derek Jeter ruined!”

He grabbed his album and was about to stamp out of the kitchen, when Frannie said, “Alex, I’d like to talk to you after you’ve had breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, when you are hungry, let me know. I’ll make you some pancakes and you and I will have a heart-to-heart.”

Alex grunted, then slipped out of the kitchen. As he left, Emma called out, “If you want my Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, I’ll loan it to you.”

Frannie didn’t think Alex wanted anything but to be left alone. When Luke would have followed him, she grabbed him by the waist and set him on a chair. “Time to eat.”

“He’s mad, you know,” Emma commented.

“He just needs some time alone,” she told her daughter, but she knew that as soon as she’d fed Luke, she’d see if there wasn’t something else she could do for Alex.

ALEX HEARD HIS SISTER’S VOICE echo through the hallway as he headed for his room. He didn’t care if Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing was the best book in the whole wide world. He didn’t want to read about some kid named Peter who had a little brother who messed with his things.

It was bad enough that he had a little brother who messed with his things. And the title of his sister’s favorite book was enough to make him want to bury it at the bottom of his closet. Why would anyone want to read about a kid who thought he was a nothing?

If the title was Tales of a Fourth Grade Somebody, he might read the book, but a fourth grade nothing? No way. He already felt like a big fat nothing when he thought about his dad.

There was knock on his door, and then Alex heard his mother’s voice: “Can I come in?”

He knew she wouldn’t go away until he said yes. Mothers never did. “All right,” he mumbled.

She came in and closed the door behind her, then sat down next to him on the bed. “I’m sorry Luke ruined your cards. Can I buy you new ones?”

He shrugged. “If you can find them.”

“I saw in the paper there’s a trading card show next weekend at the junior high. Would you like to go?”

“You’ll take me?”

“If you want. And you could bring Josh, too.”

“All right.”

“Alex, there’s something else I want to talk about with you.” He could tell by the look on her face that it was serious. “Lois told me you’ve made up the posters you hope will help you find your father.”

He’d figured his aunt would tell her, so he went over to his desk and pulled open a drawer. He removed a single sheet of paper and showed it to her. “Are you mad?”

He thought it was probably a dumb question. She’d already told him a while back that she didn’t think the poster was a good idea.

“You call him a deadbeat.” Her voice was quiet, not angry.

“Because he is. You don’t need to pretend with me, Mom. I heard you and Auntie Lois talking. I know he’s a deadbeat.”

“Then, why look for him?”

“To make him pay. He owes you money. It’s not right that you have to work so much just to pay the bills he should be looking after.”

She slid her arm around his shoulder and squeezed him. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, but I can take care of the four of us just fine. Are you sure there isn’t another reason why you want to find him?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe you think there’s a possibility that when you find him, things will be different. That your father will want to be a father again.”

“No! That’s not it. I’m not doing this for me, Mom. I told you that. It’s for you and Emma and Luke.”

She gave him another squeeze and said, “Oh, Alex. You really are a very special boy.”

He wanted to believe her. And most of the time he did, but there were those times when he had his doubts. “If I’m so special, why did dad leave?”

As soon as he’d asked the question, he wished he hadn’t, because his mom’s eyes got all watery.

Then she pulled him even closer to her, resting her chin on his head as she said, “It’s nothing you or Emma or Luke did. Your father left because he was missing something inside himself. And it was a big something. It was what tells us that the greatest treasure anyone can ever have is a family to love. So don’t ever think you aren’t special. You were just unfortunate to have a father who wasn’t smart enough to recognize what special is.”

This time she didn’t just give him a hug, but a kiss, too. Right on his forehead. Then she said, “Now how about coming out and letting me make you some pancakes?”

He was hungry. “Oh, all right.” He tried to make it sound as if he really didn’t care about breakfast.

Before they could cross the living room into the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Emma raced to the front window to push aside the curtains so she could see who was standing on the step.

With a screech she cried out, “Oh, my gosh! It’s Gramma!”

CHAPTER TWO

WHAT FRANNIE DIDN’T NEED today of all days was to have her former mother-in-law drop in. “This is a surprise,” she said, although it really shouldn’t have caught her off guard. After all, Arlene Harper had a way of showing up when she was least expected. If there was one word Frannie would use to describe Arlene, it was unpredictable.

“Did you take a taxi from the airport?”

“Oh, I didn’t fly,” Arlene answered. “I drove.”

“By yourself? Where’s Harry?”

Harry was Arlene’s fiancé—or at least he was the last time Frannie had seen her. She glanced at Arlene’s left hand and saw the ring finger was bare. It looked as if Harry had gone the way of the rest of the men in Arlene’s life.

“I’m afraid that didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Frannie said, although she really should have told Arlene how lucky she was to be rid of the moocher. From the very first time Frannie had met Harry she’d had her suspicions that he was all charm and no substance. But then, in the eleven years she’d known Arlene, that’s all there had been in her mother-in-law’s life—men with charm but little substance.

Arlene’s next words indicated that she’d finally figured out Harry, too. “It’s for the best. He wasn’t the man for me,” Arlene said without any bitterness. “He thought work was for other people. But let’s not waste our time talking about me. I want to hear what’s been happening to my beautiful grandchildren,” she said, wrapping her arms around Luke and Emma.

“As you can see, they’re fine,” Frannie answered.

“We only have one more week of school and then we’re on summer vacation,” Emma stated joyfully.

“I know. That’s why I came. I want to spend lots of time with you this summer.”

Frannie gulped. “You’re staying for the summer?”

“This is going to be so cool,” Emma gushed, giving her grandmother another hug.

“Yes, it is,” Arlene agreed with a smile. “You won’t have to have a baby-sitter while your mother’s at work.”

As much as she appreciated Arlene’s offer, the thought of her mother-in-law staying with them in a house that was already too small did not put the glee in her eyes that it did in her children’s.

“It’s very generous of you to offer, but I’ve already contracted for day care,” she said, trying not to sound ungracious.

Alex, who’d been standing in the background, stepped forward. “We hate going to day care. It’s all little kids. Why can’t Gramma take care of us?”

“Because it’ll cost me money if we back out now,” Frannie explained.

“But it’s going to cost you money anyway, right?” Arlene asked.

“Can’t we please stay home with Gramma?” Emma begged, giving her mother a look that was just as dramatic as her plea.

“What about summer camp? The bus is supposed to pick you up at the day care center,” Frannie reminded them.

“That’s not until August,” Alex answered.

“Oh, by then I’ll be gone,” Arlene told them.

Frannie hoped no one heard her sigh of relief.

Emma’s face dropped. “I thought you said you were staying the whole summer.”

“Just for part of the summer, dear. But I will be here all of June and part of July.”

“What about your job?” Frannie asked.

“Oh, I quit,” she said with a flap of her hand.

“You quit?”

“Yes. Don’t look so alarmed, Frannie. I’ll find another,” she said nonchalantly, then turned to the twins and said, “Wait until you see what I brought for you.”

“Did you bring us cards with the holes in them?” Alex asked, moving closer to the couch.

“I most certainly did,” Arlene said proudly. “Two decks for each of you.”

“And the teeny bottles of shampoo and lotion?” Emma wanted to know.

Arlene nodded. “They smell just heavenly. Wait until you see.”

Because she worked as a cashier at a hotel casino in Atlantic City, Arlene often brought playing cards as well as complimentary bottles of lotion and shampoo.

Her glance moved between Emma and Alex. “Now, what should we do today? Gramma wants to take you someplace fun.” Arlene looked at Frannie and asked, “You don’t have plans for today, do you?”

“Actually, I do.” She was assigned to cover a charity walk-a-thon. She’d planned to put Luke in the stroller and let Emma and Alex push him, as they walked with the rest of the participants and she took photos.

Alex groaned. “We don’t have to go to that, do we?”

“Go where?” Emma asked.

“Some stupid walk-a-thon,” Alex answered.

“It’s not stupid. It’s for a good cause,” Frannie chastised him.

“We can always do something tomorrow,” Arlene suggested, which provoked groans from the twins. Then she looked at Frannie and said, “Or I could take the children today and then you’d be free to concentrate on your work.”

It was a tempting offer. The children would be a distraction while she tried to work. On the other hand, Frannie knew her children could be a handful, especially Luke. The memory of her son throwing a temper tantrum the last time she’d had him at the mall made her hesitate. As much as Frannie wanted to say yes, she wasn’t sure she could do so with a clear conscience.

Finally, after much cajoling by the twins, she agreed to let them stay with their grandmother, but extracted the promise that they would help their grandmother with Luke. They also needed to complete their Saturday chores, which would give Arlene a chance to rest before their adventure.

Alex didn’t protest the later start. “That means I can go over to Josh’s and get my posters done.”

That raised his grandmother’s curiosity. “What posters are those?”

“I’ll show you,” he answered, then disappeared into his room.

Frannie thought about stopping him, but knew it would only be a matter of time until Arlene found out about his campaign to find his father. When Alex returned with the flyer, he held it up for his grand-mother’s inspection.

“I’m trying to find my dad. Me and my friend Josh made this, but I have to change the phone number. That’s why I have to go to his house. He has a computer,” he explained.

Arlene looked first at the poster, then at Frannie, her eyes filled with questions. Frannie didn’t know how to answer them, so she simply lifted her brows and shrugged.

“I’m going to put them up all over Minneapolis, and some of my friends are going to take them when they go on vacation this summer,” Alex continued. “Will you take some back to Atlantic City with you, Gramma?” He looked at his grandmother expectantly.

Arlene placed her hand on his shoulder. “If it’s important to you, of course I will, but I don’t know if it will do any good. I doubt he’s anywhere close. If your father were living near me, he’d call.”

“But there are lots of people who come to the casinos and hotels. Maybe a tourist will see the poster and recognize his picture,” Alex argued.

Frannie could see how unsettling it was for Arlene to have such a discussion with her grandson, and decided to change the subject. “Okay, kids, get your chores done.”

That got Alex to table the discussion of his missing father. Frannie knew, however, it was a subject that wouldn’t be left for long. Sooner or later she and Arlene would have to talk about Dennis’s disappearance and Alex’s quest.

That’s why she wasn’t surprised when later that evening, after the kids had gone to bed, Arlene joined her in the kitchen. Frannie offered to make her a cup of tea, but the older woman said she just wanted to sit for a bit and talk.

Seeing her yawn Frannie said, “The kids can wear you out, can’t they.”

“It’s a nice kind of tired. Alex, Emma and Luke are good kids, Frannie. You’re doing a fine job with them,” she said, taking a seat at the table where Frannie sat folding the laundry.

Frannie smoothed the wrinkles out of a small undershirt. “Thank you, Arlene. I do my best.”

“I know you do. And it shows. Of course, Luke does have quite a temper,” she remarked.

Frannie gave her a smile. “He had a tantrum?”

“I didn’t know kids could arch their backs that way,” she reflected with a weary chuckle.

Frannie grimaced. “I’m sorry if he was a handful.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m a mother, too. I know what kids are like.” She picked up one of Luke’s socks that had fallen out of Frannie’s basket. “I’d forgotten how tiny they make these things.”

Frannie smiled in understanding and continued to fold the clothes. “I appreciate your help with the kids today. They didn’t want to go to the walk-a-thon.”

“And you shouldn’t have to take them with you when you work,” Arlene said as she reached inside the laundry basket for the matching sock.

“Most of my assignments are during the week, and I can drop the kids off at day care if necessary, but on weekends I have to rely on the girl next door. When she’s busy, it means I either have to find someone to cover for me at the paper or bring the kids along.”

“That can’t be easy,” Arlene commented, adding the pair of folded socks to Frannie’s pile.

“No,” she said. “That’s why I’m grateful for what you did today.”

Arlene blew off Frannie’s gratitude with a wave of her hand. “It was nothing. Actually, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve always made me feel welcome here, Frannie, despite everything that’s happened.”

“That’s because you are welcome here,” Frannie said sincerely.

“Thank you. It’s nice to hear you say that, especially when I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. I hope you don’t mind that I want to spend some time here with the children.”

Frannie wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but she didn’t admit her uncertainty. “You said you quit your job?”

“Yes. I wanted to see what it would be like to be footloose and fancy free.” She smiled reflectively. “I discovered I like it. Now I know why women marry money.”

“Money isn’t everything.” Frannie recited the familiar refrain she’d used hundreds—maybe thousands—of times in the past few years.

“No, but it makes life a bit less stressful,” Arlene said.

“Is that why you’re looking so relaxed? Because you’ve come into some money?”

A self-satisfied grin spread Arlene’s lips. “I’m here because I’ve had some very good luck recently and I want to share it with you and the children.”

“What kind of luck?”

“Do you remember me talking about Martha Ball?”

“That sweet little old lady who lives down the hall from you?”

Arlene nodded. “I used to pick up her groceries for her, take her to the beauty shop once a week…you know, those kinds of things. She had such bad arthritis that it was difficult for her to get around.”

“Had?”

A sadness came into Arlene’s eyes. “She passed away a couple of months ago.”

Frannie placed a hand on Arlene’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I know you were fond of her.”

“Yes, she was a dear. And a bit of a gambler. She used to look forward to me coming over so we could play penny-ante poker.” Arlene shook her head, a nostalgic twinkle in her eye. “All those years we played for pennies…I had no idea how much she was actually worth.”

“She had a lot of money?”

“Oh, yes, and no family to share it with. That’s why when she died she left everything to the people she said had been the kindest to her.”

“And you were one of them?”

Again she nodded. “There weren’t many people who took the time to visit her. Just a handful of us who stopped in to play cards. None of us expected to get anything. Heck, we all thought she was one step from poverty. We’d often let her win just to give her a few extra bucks.” She chuckled at the memory.

“Then it must have come as a surprise to learn you had an inheritance.”

“Oh, my goodness, yes! I had no idea she had money in the bank. Every month when I’d help her write out her checks to pay the bills, there barely seemed enough for her to get by. She would say she had a little bit put away for a rainy day—which I thought meant thousands, not hundreds of thousands.”

“Hundreds of thousands?” Frannie’s eyes widened.

“You can imagine my shock. I’ve lived payday to payday my entire life.”

“Most of us do,” she said soberly.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Frannie really didn’t want to be having this conversation with her ex-mother-in-law because she knew where it was leading. And she didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband.

Arlene, however, would not be swayed. “I want to give some of this money to you and the kids…you know, to try to make up for what Dennis hasn’t done.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Frannie began, only to have the other woman cut her short.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. What good is inheriting money if you can’t share it with the ones you love?”

It was a very generous gesture, yet Frannie couldn’t let her do it. She knew that Arlene had worked hard all her life and had very little to show for it. Forever bailing Dennis out of trouble, she’d never hesitated to spend her money to help her son. Now she wanted to give away what could be her retirement nest egg because of obligations he’d failed to meet.

“If you want to put a little money aside for college for the kids, that’s fine, but you don’t need to help us out, Arlene. We’re doing all right.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. Frannie was tired of there never being enough money, but she also knew that until she no longer had the expense of day care, she’d continue to scramble for money.

Arlene’s face fell. “You don’t want my help?”

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your future because of Dennis’s irresponsible behavior. That money should be used for your retirement, not for raising your grandchildren.” Frannie didn’t like the awkwardness that the subject of money had introduced into their conversation. “Look, I think it’s best that we don’t talk about Dennis.”

“No, you’re probably right,” Arlene agreed. “It’s how we’ve managed to stay friends, isn’t it? By not talking about him?”

Frannie knew there was no need for her to answer.

“I just have one question,” Arlene said.

Reluctantly, Frannie asked, “About Dennis?”

She nodded. “Do you think there’s any chance that Alex’s posters might succeed in finding him?”

Frannie shook her head. “We’ve hired private investigators who haven’t been able to come up with any leads.”

“That’s true.”

“And if Dennis was going to contact anyone, it would be you.”

“I don’t think so, not after I threatened to turn him in to the authorities.” Arlene sighed. “I’m not proud to call him my son, Frannie. You ought to know that. And it hurts me to see Alex struggling with all of this. If there was some way I could make that son of mine behave like a man, I would have done it by now.”

Frannie felt a rush of sympathy for the older woman. She could imagine how painful it would be to be estranged from one of her children. “I don’t think we should be talking about this, Arlene.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Frannie.”

“It’s all right. He’s still your son, Arlene, no matter what happens.”

“And the father of Alex, Emma and Luke,” her ex-mother-in-law added.

As much as Frannie wanted to argue that Dennis had given up the right to be a father, she knew it would be wise to say nothing. If Arlene planned to stay for part of the summer, Frannie needed to keep a tight rein on her feelings about Dennis.

And she would. For her children’s sake.

“IT’S WORKING OUT BETTER than I thought it would,” Alex told Josh the following Monday on their way to school. “Now that my gramma’s staying with us, I won’t have to go to day care next week when school’s out. And you know what that means.”

“You’ll be home to answer the phone when someone calls with information about your dad,” Josh supplied. “Aren’t you worried your mom’s gonna get mad when she finds out you left your phone number on the flyers?”

“Only on half of them. The ones I put up around here all have my aunt’s office number on them.” He kicked a rock in his path and it went rolling across the street.

“You think your aunt will tell you if someone calls about your dad?”

“I’m not sure. She says it’s better for society if deadbeats like him drop out…at least, that’s what I heard her tell my mom one night when they didn’t know I was listening.”

“Hey, I heard Jamie Richards is going camping in the Boundary Waters as soon as school’s out. You should have him put some posters up there.”

“Good idea. And Angela Martin is going to the Wisconsin Dells.”

“You asked her?” Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. “She’s a dork.”

“It doesn’t matter. She said she’d take my posters with her.”

“How many out-of-town ones does that make?”

“Seventeen. Before summer’s over, my posters will be all over the country.”

“Cool. I bet you’re going to find him.”

“Maybe” was all Alex said, remembering all the times he’d heard his mom and his aunt discuss his father. He knew it wasn’t easy finding a deadbeat.

TRUE TO HER WORD, Arlene did her best not to mention her son’s name during her stay. Alex, however, asked every day if his auntie Lois had called with any information. And each day Frannie would give him the same response. No, not yet.

As days turned into weeks and there were still no leads as to Dennis’s whereabouts, Frannie expected Alex to become discouraged. He didn’t. He just kept sending the posters with his friends as they left on vacation.

Frannie viewed Arlene’s presence as a mixed blessing. It was wonderful to see how warm and loving she was with her grandchildren, but it also made Frannie realize how much easier her life would be with another person sharing the responsibilities of child rearing. Having another adult in the house meant Frannie actually had some time to herself, and she discovered she liked it.

When she expressed this sentiment to her sister as they lunched at an outdoor café, Lois said, “You sure don’t sound like the same woman who only a few weeks ago was bemoaning the fact that her ex’s mother would be a houseguest for the summer.”

Frannie took a sip of her iced tea. “I did have my apprehensions at first, but it’s worked out remarkably well. I’m actually going to hate to see her go, even if she does occasionally get on my nerves.”

“When does she leave?”

“Next week. She’s going out to California for her high school reunion, where she’s meeting up with some friends. Then they’re all going on a road trip.”

“A road trip?”

Frannie nodded. “Apparently they want to see the western part of the United States, go to some of the national parks, stop in and see friends along the way. You know Arlene—she has friends all over the country. I suppose it’ll be months before we hear from her again.”

“Do you think she’d ever consider moving here?” Lois asked as she stuck her fork into her salad.

Frannie shook her head. “I don’t know. She has wanderlust. It’s why she moves so often—and why she didn’t mind life in the military.”

“She must have family.”

Frannie reached for her napkin. “A couple of older sisters and some cousins.”

“What about the Harper side?”

She shook her head. “Never talks about them. Dennis never did, either.”

“There’s probably a good reason why they didn’t.”

Frannie shrugged. “All I know is that it’s been good for the kids to have a grandmother around. They’re going to miss Arlene.”

“By the end of the year Mom will be back,” Lois remarked.

“We hope.”

Lois frowned. “Why wouldn’t she be back? Richard’s contract was only to work overseas one year.”

“That’s true, but the last time I talked to Mom, she told me Richard was doing such a terrific job that the company was thinking about extending their stay.”

“Mom’s not going to like that.”

“I’m not so sure. Obviously it’s a great opportunity for them. I mean, what Minnesotan wouldn’t want two years working in a warm climate with beautiful sand beaches?”

“But she misses her grandkids.” Lois took one last sip of her iced tea, then reached for the check. “I’d better get back to the office. Oh, one other thing I should mention. We did get a call in response to one of Alex’s posters.”

Frannie’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

“It wasn’t legit. Some kid thinking it was funny to place the call.”

Frannie breathed a relieved sigh. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Caller ID told us it was a call placed in South Minneapolis, not Los Angeles, which is where the kid said he was. Technology can be such a timesaver, can’t it?”

ARLENE’S DEPARTURE was a solemn occasion at the Harper house. Frannie, Alex, Emma and Luke all waved at her as she pulled out of the driveway in her shiny new minivan. Frannie understood the reason for her children’s tears. Even she had to choke back sadness as she said goodbye.

Seeing their faces as Arlene’s van disappeared from sight, Frannie was grateful that there was a summer arts festival going on in a nearby park. It would give them something to take their minds off their grandmother’s absence. As well as arts and crafts, there were street vendors and musical entertainment with a small outdoor stage production.

While she was putting together a picnic lunch for them to take along, the phone rang. She heard Alex call out that he’d answer it. A few minutes later, he came bursting into the kitchen, his eyes wide. In his fist was a slip of paper.

“I got it!”

“Got what?” Frannie asked, as he stood wiggling before her.

“I got the name of the place Dad is!” Frannie was stunned. After six weeks of getting no responses to Alex’s posters, she’d assumed that nothing would come of his efforts.

“Was that Auntie Lois?” she asked weakly.

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. It was some lady. She gave me her name but I didn’t write it down. I think it was Margaret or something with an M…” He trailed off, his face showing his bewilderment.

Frannie took the piece of paper from his hands. On it Alex had printed, “Gran Moray. North Shore. Fishing. Nice, helpful.”

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It’s where Dad is…in Gran Moray.”

Gran Moray had to be Alex’s spelling of Grand Marais, the small Minnesota town located on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Frannie’s heart hammered relentlessly in her chest.

“The lady said she saw someone who looks just like Dad when they were fishing in one of the streams,” Alex continued. “They talked to him and everything.”

It couldn’t be, Frannie told herself, taking several calming breaths. “Your father doesn’t like to fish,” she told him. “And you heard your grandmother say that she doesn’t think he’s living nearby. It’s not him,” she said with a confidence she wasn’t feeling.

“How do you know? This lady said he looked just like the guy on the poster. It could be him, Mom. It could be.” There was a plea in her son’s voice that tore at Frannie’s heart.

“I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.” Frannie started to walk out of the room, but Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Auntie Lois doesn’t know about this.”

Frannie frowned. “What do you mean she doesn’t know? She must have given that woman our number…”

Guilt made his eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“Alex, you didn’t put up the posters with our phone number on it, did you?”

She could see by the look on his face, that was exactly what he’d done.

“Alex!”

“I wanted to be the one to get the calls, not Auntie Lois. He’s my father,” he said on a note of frustration.

Frannie pushed an errant curl away from her forehead. “Oh, good grief! Our phone number’s out there for all the world to see?”

“You don’t need to get upset. No one’s even called except for this one lady. And she was really nice, Mom.”

Again, pain knifed through Frannie’s heart. She could see how much Alex wanted this strange woman to be the connection to his father. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to find the words to tell her son that the man this woman had seen couldn’t possibly be Dennis.

“It can’t be him, Alex,” she began.

“Why not?” he demanded.

Because I don’t want it to be. She pushed aside that thought and said, “I told you. Your father doesn’t know how to fish.”

“Maybe he learned.”

“He hates cold weather. Why would he live in northern Minnesota?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to go find out. Will you take me?”

Frannie stifled a groan. “I wish you’d let me talk to the woman who called and gave you this information.”

“She said she lives in Minneapolis.”

“You should have written down her phone number.”

“You can call her. All you have to do is press star sixty-nine, and you can get it.”

Frannie realized he was right. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because she’d been too upset over the fact that there was even the tiniest of possibilities that the man spotted along the North Shore might be her ex-husband.

The woman who had phoned Alex was named Margaret, just as he’d said. She was also very nice and helpful, as he’d written on the slip of paper. Only, Frannie soon discovered that Alex hadn’t written those adjectives about the woman who’d phoned. They were the words Margaret had used to describe the man she’d seen at the North Shore.

As well as repeating what Alex had already told Frannie, the woman told her that this man didn’t seem like the type to abandon his kids. By the time the phone call ended, she had told Frannie enough about the man’s personality to convince her it couldn’t have been Dennis.

Frannie knew her ex-husband would have no patience for fishing or for helping a couple of senior citizens change a flat tire on their car—which is what the man had done for Margaret and her husband.

“Are we going to go there?” Alex asked as soon as she’d hung up the phone.

Frannie wanted to again say, “It’s not him,” but she stifled the words. “I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.”

Alex groaned. “Do you have to?”

“Yes.” Frannie dialed her sister’s number. As soon as she heard the voice-mail recording, she remembered that her sister was out of town for the weekend. “I forgot. She’s in Chicago and won’t be home until Tuesday.”

“What does that mean? That we have to wait for her to get back before we can do anything?” he asked, obviously hoping that the answer to his question wasn’t yes.

“There’s no point in driving all the way to the North Shore without first investigating whether the possibility exists that it is your father,” Frannie answered patiently. “If—and I say if—there’s a chance it is your father, then it’s up to the authorities to investigate, not us.”

“You mean we’re not going to go?”

Frannie tried not to let the devastation on his face tug on her emotions. It wasn’t easy.

“I’m sorry, but that’s my final word on the subject. We wait until we talk to Auntie Lois before we do anything,” she said firmly.

“Do what?” Emma asked as she entered the kitchen, backpack slung over her shoulder.

“It’s none of your business,” Alex said, stomping out of the room.

“What’s wrong with him? Aren’t we going to the arts festival?” Emma asked.

“Yes, we’re going. Just give me a few minutes,” Frannie replied. “Watch Luke for me, will you?”

Frannie found Alex in his room, lying on his stomach on his bed, his elbows supporting him as he played a video game.

“I know you’re disappointed, Alex, but you don’t need to take it out on Emma.” Her words were met with silence. “Get your stuff together and we’ll go to the arts festival at the park.”

“I don’t want to go,” he grumbled.

Frannie put her hands on her hips. “You wanted to earlier this morning.”

“I changed my mind.”

Frannie could see the stubborn set to his shoulders. If there was one thing she knew about Alex, it was that when he made up his mind about something, he didn’t change it. “Alex, I can’t leave you home alone.”

He sat up then and said, “I’m ten, not two. I’ll keep the door locked and won’t let anybody in. Satisfied?”

She wasn’t. She knew that some parents did leave their kids home alone for short periods of time, but she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t doubt that Alex would be fine on his own for a couple of hours, yet she wasn’t ready to set a precedent. If she left him today, then he’d want to stay home alone the next time she had to go somewhere that was of no interest to him.

“Come on, Mom. I’m almost eleven,” he pleaded. “I’m responsible. Didn’t I prove that to you that time you had the flu and I had to take care of Luke because you couldn’t get out of bed?”

“But I was still in the house.”

“You couldn’t even lift your head off the pillow,” he reminded her. “I did a good job taking care of everything. Even you said so. Please, let me try it just once,” he pleaded. “I won’t answer the door, and if the phone rings I won’t say you’re not here. I’ll say you can’t come to the phone, like I’m supposed to do.”

Frannie could feel her resolve weakening. She knew Alex wouldn’t enjoy the arts festival as much as Emma and Luke would. And then there was that look of devastation on his face when she’d told him they weren’t going to go looking for his father. It tugged at her heart in a way that made her fall back on emotion rather than logic.

“Please, Mom?” he begged. “Don’t make me go with you.”

The park was just at the end of the block, and if Alex did have a problem he could call on any one of the neighbors. Finally Frannie caved in. “All right, you can stay home.”

It was a decision that left her feeling uneasy, however, as she wandered later through the various exhibits. It was also the reason why, despite Luke and Emma’s groans of protest, she packed up their things as soon as they’d finished lunch.

A feeling of relief washed over her as she returned home and saw that the house looked exactly as it had when they’d left. The front door was still shut, the drapes closed, the yard empty of kids. Using her key, she let herself in and called out, “Alex, we’re home.”

When there was no answer, she repeated the call. Then Emma handed her a piece of paper. “I found this on the kitchen table.”

Frannie read the note written in her son’s handwriting: “Mom, I’m going to look for Dad. I’m taking the bus. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Alex.”

CHAPTER THREE

ALEX WAS ON A BUS headed for the North Shore!

“Do you think he really found Dad?” Emma’s voice was a pin bursting the bubble of panic that held Frannie motionless.

“No.” She reached for the phone and dialed 911. When she was told her son would be considered a runaway and that a police officer would be sent to her home to ask her more questions, she told the dispatcher, “No, don’t do that. I’ll find him myself.”

“Are you mad at the police?” Emma asked, as Frannie slammed the receiver down.

“No.”

“You look like you’re mad.”

“I’m not. I’m worried.

She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She couldn’t think. She had to think. She took several more calming breaths, then grabbed the phone book and searched for the number to the bus depot.

She vented her frustration at the faceless person on the other end of the line. “I don’t understand how you could let a ten-year-old on the bus without an adult.”

Frannie didn’t like the answer she received. Alex hadn’t been alone. A woman had purchased the ticket for him, saying he was going to visit his father in Grand Marais and would be met at the bus stop there.

What woman would buy a bus ticket for a ten-year-old boy? Frannie asked herself, as panic again bubbled up in her throat. She closed her eyes momentarily and tried not to think the worst. Alex easily could have cried a bucket of tears and concocted a story that would have had any compassionate woman offering to buy him a ticket.

Frannie couldn’t waste time wondering about what had already happened. Her son was on a bus headed for a small town in search of his father. She needed to be calm and she needed to be rational.

She turned to Emma and said, “We need to go find Alex, so I want you to gather a few things for Luke to play with in the car…some books, his blanky,” she said as she mentally made a list of what she needed to bring along.

With her usual systematic approach, she loaded the car. Bottled water, juice boxes, munchies for the kids, change of clothes for Luke in case he had an accident. Luke was toilet trained most of the time, but whenever she least expected it, an accident occurred.

Frannie couldn’t believe how long it took to pack up two kids and get on the road. By the time her station wagon pulled out of the drive, it was midafternoon, which meant they would be lucky to reach the North Shore before evening.

Once they found Alex, they’d have to eat dinner. And by the time they made the journey home again, they’d be fortunate to get to bed by midnight. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to think about anything but staying calm and finding Alex.

Never had the drive from Minneapolis to Duluth seemed so long. Although Emma read stories and kept Luke entertained for most of the journey, three hours was a long time for any child to spend in the car. Even Emma found it difficult to be still and asked if they could take a break.

“There’s a park down there. Can we go down by the water?” she asked as their journey took them past the harbor.

“You know we can’t stop.”

“But we’ve been in the car forever. And it looks like it’s really fun.” She gazed longingly out the window toward Canal Park.

“I’ll bring you and your brothers back for a visit some other time. Right now we need to get to Grand Marais.”

“Oh, look! That bridge is going up so the boat can get through.” She sighed. “Can’t we stop for just a few minutes?”

Frannie ignored her and continued following the highway along the shoreline of Lake Superior. It being the height of tourist season, traffic moved slowly as motor homes and pickup trucks pulling trailers leisurely made their way to recreational parks.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost six. The bus should have arrived in Grand Marais by now. She wondered where Alex was and what he was doing.

Frannie’s heart rate increased. What if she couldn’t find him? What if Dennis Harper was in the small resort town? What if Alex had found him and he—She pushed such thoughts from her mind. She needed to keep a clear head if she was going to find Alex. She couldn’t allow what-if’s to distract her.

Finally she saw the green road sign: Grand Marais. Frannie’s adrenaline kicked into a higher gear. As she drove into the business district, she kept one eye on the road, the other on the sidewalks in search of her son.

It only took a few minutes to locate the bus stop. When she saw no sign of Alex, she parked her car, then grabbed Luke by the hand and ordered Emma to stick close by.

“I’m looking for my son. He’s ten, dark hair, a couple of inches shorter than I am, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue shirt,” she would say to each of the shopkeepers she met. Each gave her the same answer. No one had seen him.

“When are we going to eat? I’m hungry,” Emma asked as they approached a diner. The aroma of beef grilling wafted on the air, and Luke echoed his sister. “I want to eat, Mommy.”

Frannie pulled open the door to the diner and motioned for Emma to step inside. Her daughter hadn’t taken but a couple of steps when she said, “He’s in here!”

Relief washed over Frannie at the sight of her son sitting on a stool at the lunch counter. In front of him was a half-eaten hamburger and a plate of French fries, and he held a fountain glass in his hand. Seeing his mother, his eyes widened. He slammed the glass down on the counter.

“Mom!”

Hours of pent-up emotion came spilling out. Instead of throwing her arms around him and telling him how relieved she was that he was safe, she scolded him. “Alexander Harper, what do you think you’re doing? Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” It was only as she noticed the heads turned in her direction that she realized how loud her voice was.

“You’re in big trouble,” Emma said, taking the stool next to his and grabbing a French fry from his plate. “You’re gonna get grounded.”

Seeing the food in front of Alex, Luke squirmed and wriggled, trying to be free of Frannie’s arms. “I’m hungry!” he cried, fingers clawing the air in hopes of reaching Alex’s fries.

“Can I have a hamburger?” Emma asked.

Frannie knew she needed to feed her children. She looked around the small diner for a place for them all to sit.

The waitress behind the counter, a teenage girl wearing a red chef’s apron over her jeans and T-shirt, said, “Why don’t you take that table next to the window?” She gestured to a booth directly behind Frannie. Alex didn’t look as if he wanted to leave his spot at the counter, but the young girl picked up his plate, saying, “Come on, big fella. You’ll have more room over here.”

She led Alex over to the booth, stopping at the end of the counter to pick up a booster seat for Luke. Frannie noticed that on the upper-left corner of her apron was a small white patch with the name Rosie embroidered in black letters.

As soon as they were all seated, she set four paper place mats on the table, each one a map of the area showing local tourist attractions. Then she added silverware and four glasses of water, finishing with menus.

“The kids’ menu is on the back,” she announced, then asked, “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Emma answered.

“She’ll have milk,” Frannie amended.

Emma made a sound of indignation. “Alex has pop.”

As if suddenly realizing that indeed his brother did have a soda, Luke climbed out of his booster seat and reached across the table for the straw in Alex’s glass. “Pop!”

Frannie pulled Luke off the table and returned him to the booster chair. “Bring two more Cokes, and I’ll have an iced tea,” she said to the waitress, then looked at Luke and said, “You have to sit down like a good boy if you want the nice lady to bring you pop.”

To Frannie’s relief, the waitress returned with not only their drinks, but a small square block of wood holding half-a-dozen crayons and an activity sheet for Luke. While Emma helped her brother connect the dots on a puzzle, Frannie spoke to Alex.

“Do you realize how worried I’ve been?”

Alex didn’t answer, but stared down at the French fries on his plate.

“You shouldn’t have come up here, Alex. Not only is it dangerous for someone your age to ride the bus alone, you have no real proof that your father is even here.”

“I’m gonna find him,” he said stubbornly, still not lifting his gaze.

“You’re going to come home with me,” Frannie said, her voice stern.

“It’s not fair. What if he is here?” He looked up at her then, his eyes full of something Frannie didn’t want to see. Hope.

“He’s not here, Alex,” she said quietly but firmly.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

They were interrupted by the waitress. “Are you ready to order?”

Without even looking at the menu, Frannie ordered hamburgers and fries for the three of them, although she didn’t have much of an appetite. It seemed that Alex didn’t, either. His food hadn’t been touched since they’d arrived.

“Don’t you want to know if he’s here?” Alex asked a few minutes later, his face full of youthful innocence and curiosity.

“I told you. He’s not here,” Frannie replied.

“How do you know?”

“Because he hates Minnesota.”

“But that lady who called said she saw him.”

“Alex, the picture on that poster is eleven years old.”

“It could be him,” he argued, refusing to be persuaded.

There was a short silence, then Emma said, “I don’t know why you want to find him anyway. He doesn’t want to be with us.”

It was said so matter-of-factly, with so little emotion, that Frannie felt her heart break. “I think it would be a good idea if we didn’t discuss your father.”

Alex didn’t say a word, but leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth, his arms folded across his chest.

“Aren’t you going to finish eating?” Emma asked.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled between pinched lips.

“Can I have your fries?” his twin asked.

He shoved the plate in her direction. Emma reached for the bottle of ketchup and poured a generous serving on the plate. “Was it fun riding on the bus?”

Alex simply shrugged, not that Emma seemed to mind. She carried on with her chatter. “Wasn’t that big rock tunnel cool? And the lake is so huge! We saw a really long ship in the harbor in Duluth. Can we please stop at that park on the way home?” Emma asked her mother as she happily devoured Alex’s fries.

“We have a long way to go before we get home, Emma,” Frannie answered.

“That means no,” she said, obvious disappointment in her voice.

“We didn’t come up here to visit the parks,” Frannie reminded her. “We came to find Alex.”

That broke Alex’s silence. “You didn’t have to come. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can buy a bus ticket without my help, but where did you plan to sleep tonight?” Frannie demanded.

“At a campground. Rosie’s cousin has one and she said I could stay there.”

“You don’t have a tent.” Frannie eyed his backpack, which was exceptionally fat yet couldn’t possibly hold a tent and sleeping bag.

“I don’t need one. I brought a blanket. I like sleeping on the ground. Me and Josh did it a whole bunch last summer.”

“It’s one thing to sleep outside in your best friend’s backyard in the city and quite another to be in the wilderness,” Frannie said.

He puffed up his chest. “I’m not afraid.”

Just then Rosie came hustling toward them with a tray full of food. “Okay, we’ve got two regular burgers and fries and one kiddie-size,” she said as she cheerfully set the food on the table. Noticing that Alex had shoved his half-eaten meal aside, she put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Hey, a big kid like you ought to be able to finish that burger. You feeling okay?”

“I was until my mom said I have to go home without finding my dad.” He turned his brown eyes on her, looking very much like a puppy in need of a scratch behind his ears.

Frannie could see the look produced the desired effect. The teen’s face softened in sympathy; she turned to Frannie and said, “If you need a place to stay for the night, my cousin has a resort and campground not far from here. I could call and see if he has any empty cabins.”

Frannie watched Alex’s eyes brighten at the possibility. “Can we?”

Frannie knew her son wasn’t going to like her answer. She stared out the window briefly, trying not to let the look on his face tug so strongly on her emotions.

“I appreciate the offer, Rosie. It’s very kind of you,” she said. “Unfortunately, we’re not prepared to spend the night away from home.”

The waitress shrugged. “If you change your mind, just let me know. Can I get you anything else?”

Frannie couldn’t help but warm to the genuine caring in the young woman’s eyes. It made her realize that her son had been fortunate to stop in this particular diner.

“I think we’re fine for now,” she replied, then turned her attention to Luke, who needed help getting more ketchup on his fries.

To her relief, Alex didn’t force the issue. He sat in silence, occasionally taking a bite of his hamburger, but mostly sipping his pop. Just as Rosie returned to ask if they needed refills on their beverages, Alex jumped up.

“Look! There he is!”

Frannie immediately turned around to see who had captured her son’s attention, but all she saw was the back of a man getting into an SUV.

“It’s Dad! Mom, it’s him! I know it is!” Alex could barely contain his excitement, bobbing up and down like a jack-in-the-box. “Can’t you see him?”

Frannie couldn’t. The SUV was across the street, and traffic moved at a busy clip in front of it.

“That’s your dad?” Rosie asked with an incredulous lift of her brows, but Alex didn’t answer her.

“He’s going to drive away. I have to stop him. Move!” he ordered his sister, pushing her out of the way so he could get out of the booth.

“Alex, wait!” Frannie called after him, but he didn’t stop. She slid out of the booth, following him outside onto the sidewalk. They saw the SUV pull away from the curb and travel down the street.

“He’s gone!” Alex stood on the corner, his shoulders sagging.

Frannie gently put a hand on his. “Come back inside.”

He shrugged off her hand. Frannie didn’t try to take his arm again, but let him stand there for a few moments before she again said, “Come back inside.”

Finally, he did as he was told. As soon as he sat down, Rosie came over to the table. “Did you see him?” he asked the waitress. “Do you know who he is?”

“That was Joe Smith. Are you sure he’s your father?” she asked uneasily, then looked at Frannie, who shook her head gently.

Alex unzipped his backpack and pulled out one of the yellow flyers. “See? Doesn’t he look like that guy in the SUV?”

Rosie studied the photograph, her eyes narrowing. “It sure does look like Joe, but he wears his hair different.”

“What I’ve been trying to explain to Alex is that there are men who look like his father. You know, they have the same color hair, the same nose, similar smiles,” Frannie said to the waitress. “I’m sure that’s the way it is with this Joe Smith. He’s simply someone who resembles Alex’s father.”

The waitress nodded in agreement. “And to be honest, Joe doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to lie about who he is. He’s a pilot. If you want, I can give you directions to his place. It’s on the Gunflint Trail.”

Alex said yes at the same time Frannie said no. He looked at his mother and asked, “Why not?”

“Because he’s not your father. Your father isn’t a pilot,” Frannie reminded him. Joe Smith isn’t Dennis Harper, she told herself, and to take a trip up the Gunflint Trail would only make the day more frustrating for all of them. Alex’s eyes were filled with a false hope that Frannie had no doubt would be replaced by disappointment if he were to meet this Joe Smith.

When Luke indicated he needed to go to the bathroom, Frannie gave the twins strict instructions. “Don’t either of you move from this booth. Understand?”

Both nodded. As much as Frannie hated leaving Alex alone for even five minutes, she knew she needed to tend to Luke. As she walked past Rosie, she said, “Would you do me a favor and let me know if Alex tries to leave?”

The young woman smiled. “Sure.”

When she and Luke emerged from the rest room, Frannie was grateful to see that Rosie had followed her request. Emma and Alex were still seated in the booth. Alex’s face was animated, and it was only as Frannie returned that she saw the reason why. In his hands was a crudely drawn map on a white paper napkin.

“What is that?” she asked, eyeing the map suspiciously.

“Rosie told me how to get to the Gunflint Trail,” Alex answered.

“We’re not going there,” Frannie said as she helped Luke back into the booster seat.

“Why not?” It came out as a whine. “Mom, please! I spent all of my can money to buy that bus ticket.”

Frannie felt even worse. She knew how hard Alex worked to collect cans. Every week he’d go from house to house in the neighborhood, gathering aluminum cans so they could take them to the recycling center where he’d receive a small amount of cash. Every cent he made went into a locked box he kept under his bed because he had a goal: to buy his own computer.

Now he’d spent that money on a bus ticket to go in search of a man who didn’t want to be found. A man who didn’t care that Alex even existed.

“We’re already here,” Alex continued to plead with her. “Can’t we at least go see him?”

It seemed as if two hands had a hold of Frannie’s heart and were tugging it in opposite directions. She briefly closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them she’d discover this entire day was a bad dream.

It wasn’t.

Alex could see she was weakening and pushed even harder. “Can’t we, Mom, please?”

“I need to pay the bill. Sit here,” she ordered the three of them, then went up to the cash register near the door. Rosie immediately hurried over to help her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, glancing back to where Alex sat slouched in the booth, frowning.

“It will be. Thanks for keeping an eye on Alex. I appreciate the kindness you showed him today.” She handed the girl several bills.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” She counted out the correct change into Frannie’s hand. “He still thinks Joe Smith is his father, doesn’t he.”

Frannie nodded. “How far is it to this Gunflint Trail?”

“Not very far at all. It wouldn’t take but maybe half an hour to find the Smith place. Then at least Alex would know for sure…” She let her voice trail off, giving Frannie an understanding smile that indicated she was more mature than her age indicated.

“Yes, he would,” Frannie said with an answering smile. “Thank you, Rosie.”

When Frannie got back to the booth, Alex was silently sobbing. She knew how much he hated to cry.

Frannie’s emotions were near the breaking point as well, yet she knew there was only one way for any of them to have peace of mind. She said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do.

“All right. We’ll drive up to this Joe Smith’s place.”

“I’M HOT,” Emma complained.

So was Frannie. When she’d left Grand Marais, she’d turned off the car’s air-conditioning because of the road’s steep grade. She felt the engine needed all of its power just to get them up the incline. Although the windows were down, the air inside the car was hot and sticky.

“Are you watching the signs?” she asked.

“There should be a lookout point coming up soon,” Alex told her, acting as navigator. “There it is—” His arm shot out to the right. “Now we just keep going straight on this road.”

Apprehension crept down Frannie’s spine just as beads of perspiration trickled down her forehead. Because of the tall trees, what little there was left of the sinking sun vanished as she drove deeper into the forest. As often as she told herself that this Joe Smith was not Dennis Harper, she knew that her anxiety wasn’t only due to what effect meeting this man would have on Alex. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the tiny voice that asked mercilessly, What if it really is him?

“We should be getting close,” Alex said, when she expressed her concern that they had gone a long way without seeing the next landmark.

“There! On the right!” he said excitedly.

Frannie glanced to the side of the road and saw a small sign: Nature’s Hideaway.

“Stop!” Alex called out.

Frannie turned onto the dirt road and encountered a wrought-iron gate barring the entrance. “It says Private and No Trespassing.”

Alex hopped out of the car and went to investigate. Within minutes he had pushed opened the gate and was motioning for his mother to drive through. When he got back in the car, she said, “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s private property.”

“But the gate was open. If he didn’t want anyone coming in, he would lock it,” he reasoned.

The hair on the back of Frannie’s neck rose as she continued down the winding gravel road. The sun had completely disappeared, and if she hadn’t glanced at her watch, she would have thought it was much later. Having difficulty seeing the road, she switched on her headlights.

“How come everything’s such a funny color?” Emma asked, calling Frannie’s attention to the green pall that seemed to surround them. “Is it going to storm?”

Frannie’s apprehension doubled. “I sure hope not.” Frannie turned on the radio but found the static was so bad that it was impossible to hear. With an impatient sigh, she turned it off again.

“The sky’s a funny color, too,” Alex observed. Frannie wondered how he could even see the sky through the heavy foliage.

“I see something,” Alex called out. “I think it’s a house.”

It was a house, Frannie discovered as she pulled into a clearing. A beautiful log home sitting on the shore of a lake. She parked the car next to the SUV they’d seen in town. As she turned off the engine, she found herself short of breath, her uneasiness creeping into her throat. She didn’t want to let go of the steering wheel for fear her hands would tremble. She looked toward the house, wondering if anyone had heard their arrival. If they had, they weren’t in any hurry to come out and greet them.

The sudden buzzing of a chain saw starting up told her why.

“He’s over there,” she heard Alex say, then she looked behind them toward a shed where a man was sawing a fallen tree into logs.

In the blink of an eye, Alex was out of the car and sprinting toward him. “Stay with your brother,” Frannie barked at Emma, then went after Alex.

She was no match for her son’s youthful speed. She watched him run up to the man, who wore a denim shirt and jeans. The chain saw stopped.

With his back to her, Frannie couldn’t see whether the man was Dennis Harper. He appeared to be the same height, and he had the same dark brown hair as her ex-husband. But when he turned and looked in Frannie’s direction, she felt as if someone had delivered a swift blow to her stomach. He did look like Dennis, even with the plastic goggles over his eyes. She paused, suddenly feeling as if her knees might buckle beneath her.

It can’t be him. She stared at the man, not wanting to believe she could be looking at her ex-husband. It can’t be, she repeated to herself.

“Are you lost?” he asked, the question directed more at her than at her son.

Not only did he look like Dennis, but he sounded like him, too. Frannie’s limbs shook so much, she thought she might fall to the ground. With great difficulty, she swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and walked toward him. This time she moved slowly, but her mind raced. How could it be him? Why would he be here?

When he removed the protective goggles and let them dangle around his neck, she saw that his eyes were brown—the same as Dennis’s—yet these eyes were looking at her as if she were a perfect stranger.

Again he spoke, “Do you need directions?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was stare at him.

Alex, however, had no trouble finding his voice. “You thought we wouldn’t find you, didn’t you?”

“I think there’s been some mistake,” he began, only to have Alex cut him off.

Like a preacher in a pulpit, the boy wagged his finger to emphasize his words. “Yeah. You’re the big mistake. Mom never should have married you. You’re a deadbeat. It’s bad enough that you didn’t want to stay married to Mom and be our dad, but you don’t even have the decency to be any kind of dad at all—not even a rotten one. You just hid so you didn’t have to pay anything.”

Frannie found her voice. “Alex, that’s enough.”

“No, it’s not.” He defied her, continuing on with his sermon. “He needs to know that you had to work two jobs most of the time to pay the bills. When Luke was sick, we had to go to the food bank to get stuff to eat. But Dad didn’t care. All he wanted was to forget about us.” He turned back to the man who looked so much like his father. “Well, I’m not going to let you forget. I’m going to go to the police and tell them who you really are, and they’ll make you pay.”

Alex’s cheeks were red and his chest was heaving by the time he’d finished his tirade. Frannie knew he was close to tears, yet he stoically stood his ground, his head held high. Frannie thought it was strange that not even a bird chirped or an insect buzzed. All she could hear was Alex’s breathing. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and squeeze away all his heartache. She knew she couldn’t.

Alex finally broke the silence. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The man looked at Frannie, and she knew what his next words were going to be. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “I’m not your father.”

“YOU LOOK LIKE HIM.” A female version of the boy who’d just verbally blistered him approached Joe with curiosity in her eyes, but not hostility.

“Emma, I told you to wait in the car,” the woman said to the girl. “Where’s Luke?”

“He fell asleep. I left the windows down.”

That information had the woman hurrying back to the battered old station wagon parked next to his SUV. “Are you two brother and sister?” he asked the pair now standing before him, gazing at him as if he were the villain in a horror film.

“As if you don’t know,” the boy said with derision.

“We’re twins,” the girl said.

“Do you think we wouldn’t recognize our own dad when we saw him?” the boy continued.

“I may look like him, but I’m not him,” he replied, as the pair continued to scrutinize him. “My name is Joe Smith.”

“That sounds like a made-up name to me,” the boy said.

“It’s not. If you wait just a minute, I’ll go inside and get my wallet. It has my driver’s license in it,” he told them.

“It’s probably a fake,” the boy countered.

“If you’re not going to take my driver’s license as proof, what will satisfy you?”

The little girl whispered something to her brother, who then said, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Joe almost chuckled at the absurdity of the request.

“I said, take off your shirt,” the boy repeated.

“Look, I told you I’m not your father,” Joe said, trying not to lose patience with the kids.

“Then take off your shirt and prove it,” the boy challenged him. “Or are you chicken?”

Joe could hardly believe what was happening. He was being confronted by two kids who were accusing him of being their deadbeat dad and demanding that he take off his shirt. “No, I’m not chicken, but I’m not your father, either,” he said evenly.

“Then, why won’t you take off your shirt?” the boy persisted.

Joe decided to humor the kids rather than stand there arguing with them. If it took revealing his bare chest to convince these two that he wasn’t their father, he’d do it. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, leaving him bare-chested and the object of their wide-eyed stares.

“Oh my gosh! It is him!” The little girl stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost, then went running back to the car.

“And you said you weren’t him!” the boy accused him before racing after his sister. They met their mother, who was coming toward them with an even younger child in tow. The two jumped up and down excitedly and pointed in Joe’s direction. Joe couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was enough to stiffen their mother’s shoulders and put a frown on her face.

She approached him cautiously, carrying a sleepy child in her arms. She looked like a mother hen about to do battle for her chicks.

He put his shirt back on, unsure what it was that had triggered such a response in the kids. “If these are your biological children, you must know that I’m not their father.”

From her expression, he could see that she didn’t.

“Dennis, if you’re playing some kind of joke with these kids, it’s not funny.” A shadow in her eyes told him that whoever this Dennis was, he’d hurt her badly.

“I’m not Dennis and I wouldn’t play such a cruel trick on any children,” he answered a bit impatiently. “My name is Joe Smith. I don’t have any kids. If I had, I wouldn’t deny their existence. Surely you, their mother, must see that I’m not the man they think I am.”

“Stop lying!” she shouted. He could see that she was close to losing control. “You’ve been running and lying all your life. Just for once tell the truth.”

He ran a hand over his hair in exasperation. “I’m not their father. Whatever it was they saw when I took off my shirt…it doesn’t mean I’m their father.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “They saw your tattoo.”

Suddenly he realized the reason behind the children’s demand. It had been to see if he had a tattoo on his upper arm. He wasted no time in explaining. “You can’t possibly think I’m their father because I have the same tattoo as he does on my arm. Do you know how many sailors get tattoos while they’re in the Navy?”

“Let me see it,” she said quietly.

This time he didn’t take off his shirt, but pushed up the sleeve until the anchor with the letters USN could be seen. She took one glance, then looked away, her teeth tugging on her upper lip.

“If it’s the same as your husband’s—”

“My ex- husband,” she corrected defiantly, as if reminding him she couldn’t stand to be around him. “Ex-husband,” she repeated like a warning.

“If it’s the same tattoo, it’s a coincidence.” He stared into deep blue eyes. What he saw in them was contempt, and it annoyed him that those beautiful eyes contained such venom toward him because of what another man had done. “Look. All you have to do is come inside and I’ll show you proof of who I am.”

“Now that is something I will not do,” she said through clenched teeth.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Joe glanced at the sky, then said, “I think you’d better come inside just the same. There’s a storm moving in. You’re welcome to stay until it passes.”

“I will not stay anywhere with you. All I want is to get as far away from here as possible,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. She called to her kids, “We have to get in the car. It’s going to rain.”

“Are we going to call the police?” Joe heard the boy asked.

Police. Joe knew he needed to convince this woman that he was not her ex-husband. What he didn’t need was for some kid to mistake him for a man who was in trouble with the law. He had his own past to haunt him. He didn’t need another man’s.

“Would you people listen to me?” he said in frustration as big raindrops began to pepper the earth. “I am not the man you’re looking for.”

A gust of wind sent the boy’s baseball cap sailing through the air. He went chasing after it, but it kept tumbling on the wind.

“Don’t worry about the hat, Alex. Just get in the car,” the woman said, as a sudden downpour pelted them. She herded her kids toward the station wagon.

Joe watched them struggle to reach the car, the gusty winds impeding their progress. Then he took another look at the sky and knew he couldn’t let this woman and her children leave. He caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm.

She flinched when he touched her, and he immediately let go. “You can’t drive in this,” he said as large raindrops stung his cheeks and dampened their clothing. “Please. Come inside. Your children will be safer in the house.”

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