# Man of His Word

Cynthia Reese

A promise made has to be a promise kept This small town in rural Georgia is where Kimberly Singleton hopes to find the answers that can save her adopted daughter's life. Daniel Monroe is the key: the charismatic firefighter is the one who helped bring her child into the world. He's a good man from a loving family who makes Kimberly feel like she's finally found a safe haven. But he won't give up his secret.For almost twelve years, Daniel has kept his promise to a terrified young mother. Now Kimberly and her daughter deserve the truth. But how can he break that long-ago vow and stay true to who he is, a man Kimberly can trust…and love?

A promise made has to be a promise kept

This small town in rural Georgia is where Kimberly Singleton hopes to find the answers that can save her adopted daughter’s life. Daniel Monroe is the key: the charismatic firefighter is the one who helped bring her child into the world. He’s a good man from a loving family who makes Kimberly feel like she’s finally found a safe haven. But he won’t give up his secret.

For almost twelve years, Daniel has kept his promise to a terrified young mother. Now Kimberly and her daughter deserve the truth. But how can he break that long-ago vow and stay true to who he is, a man Kimberly can trust...and love?

“Daniel...”

He threw another half-dozen rocks into the churning river before he acknowledged Kimberly’s presence.

Dusting off his hands, his gaze met hers. “Can we not talk about this, Kimberly? I just—I just can’t. When I’m with you, I want to tell you...everything. Every last detail.”

Setting his jaw, he started back up the trail, determination in every line and crease of his face.

“I promised to protect that young girl all those years ago and I intend to keep that promise, at least until I’m released from it. And nothing—not all the sweetest kisses in the world—is going to change that fact, even though I wish they could.”

Dear Reader,

Each year, thousands of girls and women across the US struggle with a bleeding disorder that they may not even realize they have. For women with bleeding disorders, it takes an average of sixteen years to get an accurate diagnosis, according to the National Hemophilia Association on their Victory for Women website.

Bleeding disorders are frequently underdiagnosed, but they can have deadly complications. For more information, check out victoryforwomen.org.

Like Marissa in Man of His Word, my daughter has a rare, mysterious bleeding disorder that doctors have struggled to diagnose and treat.

Whether it’s a bleeding disorder, a food allergy or any other life-threatening condition, such an issue affects an entire family.

Like Kimberly, I’ve struggled myself with how to let go while trying to protect my daughter, something every mother must learn. And like Kimberly and Marissa, we are blessed to have a strong “Daniel” in our lives—my husband and my daughter’s dad, who keeps us grounded and always has our backs.

Hope you enjoy Kimberly and Daniel’s story!

Cynthia

Man of His Word

Cynthia Reese

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CYNTHIA REESE lives with her husband and their daughter in south Georgia, along with their two dogs, three cats and however many strays show up for morning muster. She has been scribbling since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and reading even before that. A former journalist, teacher and college English instructor, she also enjoys cooking, traveling and photography when she gets the chance.

To my sister, my best friend in the entire world

And in memory of Andrew...I’ll say it like I mean it.

This book is owed in huge part to my smashing editors, Kathryn Lye and Victoria Curran.

Another huge debt goes to my Heartwarming Sister Karen Rock, who patiently brainstormed with me.

Thanks, too, goes to Sgt. Tommy Windham and all the firefighters at the City of Dublin, Georgia’s Fire Department. They very patiently helped me learn how real-life firefighters are NOT like firefighters on TV. In addition, I owe technical expertise to John Lentini, of Scientific Fire Analysis. All mistakes are mine!

This book was the product of the sacrifices of many: my critique partner, Tawna Fenske, as well as to my beta reader, Jessica Brown—and not least, my daughter and my husband.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

KIMBERLY SLOWED THE car down to a crawl as she inched past the driveway. She didn’t take her eyes from the dented mailbox that was in the shape of a chicken—a chicken, of all things. Even though she squinted, she couldn’t make out a number or a name.

“Hey, Mom! There! This is it! See the number?”

Marissa’s finger was trembling with excitement as she guided Kimberly’s attention to a house number on the mailbox post itself, almost obscured by the thigh-high Bahia grass that had overtaken the shoulder of the narrow country road.

There it was—3332. Marissa was right. Relief sluiced over her. They had found it—she had found it, no thanks to the rather vague directions she’d been given. She gave her daughter a high five that smacked loudly within the confines of the car.

Kimberly glanced at the rearview mirror and saw it was clear behind her, then reversed the car a few feet in order to make the turn into the drive.

No house was visible. She wound along a rutted dirt track between pastures dotted with cows.

“Hey, Mom, are those chickens?” Marissa asked, pointing at the field on the other side of the road.

“I think—” Kimberly squinted. Yes. There was a whole pasture, empty of everything except a huge flock of rust-colored birds streaming out from some sort of shed. As she drove past, she could see the chickens, cheek to jowl, pecking and scratching. “Yep. Those are chickens, city girl.”

“I just didn’t expect to see them like that, roaming around like cows,” Marissa said. “How do they keep them from flying away? Or wandering off? I thought chickens stayed in a pen.”

Marissa didn’t sound as though she really needed an answer, so Kimberly turned her attention to the road ahead.

Now the chickens gave way to corn, slightly wilted from the hot late-May sun. The corn, in turn, gave way to a field of leafy green bushes—bush beans, maybe—that extended as far as the open pasture until it ended in a grove of thick dark trees.

The car dipped suddenly into a mud puddle, jouncing both her and Marissa. It was proof of their stretched, taut nerves that neither noted the big bump.

Then one last curve revealed a farmhouse. The house was green, with a steeply inclined metal roof a shade darker. The porch was wide with big curving beds of marigolds flanking the front steps.

Kimberly put the car in Park and glanced Marissa’s way. Her daughter was twining one long red-gold strand of hair around her index finger, her lips compressed in concentration as she scrutinized the house.

“Do you think anybody’s home?” Marissa asked.

“The captain at the fire station said this would be where we’d find the fire chief,” Kimberly pointed out.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Marissa said. “It’s not as if they’re going to put on a welcome party for us, right, Mom?”

“Honey, there’s no need to be nervous.” Kimberly’s stomach, full of butterflies, belied her statement. She was nervous. But she shouldn’t let Marissa’s nerves be fueled by her own neurotic thoughts. “It isn’t as though we’re meeting your biological mother or father. This is just the guy who...”

She trailed off. In the silence that followed, she heard a low “roo-roo-roo,” the deep bark of what sounded like a decidedly large dog suddenly awakened from a midmorning nap.

“This is the guy who found me after my biological mom dumped me.” Marissa’s words were harsh and judgmental as only an eleven-year-old fixated on fairness and rules could be.

“Now, Marissa—” But before Kimberly could launch into her she-would-have-kept-you-if-she-could-have speech, a woman hurried around the side of the house, a large chocolate-brown dog at her heels.

“Hello, there!” she said as she wiped her hands on the dish towel she still held. The woman must have been in her sixties, but had a youthful appearance despite her salt-and-pepper hair, which was pulled back in a bun. Maybe it was the way she bounced as she walked, or the wide, welcoming smile on her face. “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

Kimberly had rolled down the window by now. “Uh, yes—I mean, no, I don’t think we’re lost. The captain on duty at the fire station told us we could find the chief here? That he was off today?”

“Daniel?” A frown marred the woman’s smooth, tanned face. “Yes. He’s here. I’m afraid he’s still picking butter beans for me on the back side of the property, but I can call him for you. It will be a little while, though.”

“Would you?” The doubt and anxiety that gnawed at Kimberly eased a little. “I would appreciate it. I’m Kimberly Singleton, and this is my daughter, Marissa.”

“Okay, let me just...” The woman started to leave, then turned back. “Would you—would you care to get out? Stretch your legs a bit?”

“Sure, that would be great!”

“Absolutely. Make yourself at home. Y’all can wait on the porch if you’d like, and I’ll bring you out some lemonade. Come on, Rufus! They don’t want a big smelly dog jumping on them. C’mon, boy!”

Rufus hesitated, his tail flicking, then he obediently trailed the woman back around the house.

On the porch swing, Marissa extended one flip-flop-clad foot and grimaced at her pale white leg. “Mom, I’m still not tanned. I’ll bet I could get a tan superquick in a tanning bed. When we get back home, can you please, please, please—”

“No. You are the color nature intended you to be, and I don’t want to invite skin cancer on top of everything else you have going on. We don’t know anything—”

“About my biological family’s medical history. I know.” Marissa’s voice dwindled from a surge of anger to a tiny little whimper of self-pity. She jerked the swing with some violent rocking moves until she caught Kimberly’s warning look and settled into a more sedate gliding motion. “You think that’s his wife?” she asked.

“Maybe. I mean, I would think the chief would be older than the captain, and the captain was a bit older than me.”

Just then, the lady of the house opened the front door and brought out a big tray of lemonade and glasses. “Here you go.” She set the tray down on a table by the front window and with a tug pulled it close to them. “I talked to Daniel, and he said he’d be up here in about five minutes or so. And excuse me, I should have introduced myself—I’m Colleen Monroe. And I’m usually not this— Oh, was that a timer going off? My lunch is on the stove and a cake’s in the oven—I need to check it, and then I’ll be right back.”

In a flash, she was gone. Marissa didn’t have to be encouraged any further to serve herself a tall glass of the lemonade. She poured a generous serving from a fat-bellied pitcher into the two ice-filled glasses and handed one to Kimberly.

“Mmm...this is good, Mom! Why doesn’t our lemonade taste like this?” Marissa smacked her lips appreciatively.

“Because we use a mix?” The lemonade was good—not too sweet, not too tart, perfectly chilled. It tasted of fresh lemons.

A tall rangy man about Kimberly’s age in a dusty white T-shirt rounded the house. His hair was dark and rumpled, a hint of stubble along his jaw, his skin tanned, and he looked all sinew and bone and muscle in just the right proportions. The chief’s son, perhaps?

“Hey. I’m Daniel Monroe. Ma said you were looking for me?”

Kimberly scrambled up in surprise. This was the fire chief? Had to be about her age, maybe very late thirties.

“Uh, yes. I’m Kimberly Singleton. And this is my daughter, Marissa.” She swept her hand toward Marissa while nudging her to stand up with a carefully placed tap to the ankle. Likewise, Marissa rose to her feet.

Daniel Monroe’s face continued to show polite curiosity, salted with a little apprehension in eyes that were the exact color of the summer sky. “Yes?”

“Well, we’re sorry to bother you on your day off, but we’re hoping you can give us some information. My daughter, Marissa...”

This was harder than she’d thought. She hadn’t rehearsed it, and maybe she should have. She swallowed, feeling Marissa’s growing anxiety emanating in waves beside her. “She was left as a newborn at your fire station. And I believe you were the one who found her?”

It was as though she had sucker punched Daniel Monroe. He rocked back on his heels and regarded first her and then Marissa for a long, long moment.

“So. You kept your name.” The man’s words, directed at Marissa, were tinged with wonder. It was an odd reaction that Kimberly had not at all expected.

Marissa shrugged her shoulders, then hunched them with the shyness that made her so often close up around strangers, or whenever she found herself the center of attention. She appeared, to Kimberly at least, as though she wanted to fall through the porch floor, not daring to meet the eyes of the fire chief—her rescuer. “My mom named me,” she mumbled.

“The bracelet...” Kimberly’s words trailed off. She dug the tiny baby bracelet out of her pocket and handed it to the chief.

He turned it over in his big sturdy hands, the delicate filigree of the bracelet so out of scale in comparison. Did his fingers shake? Or was that a figment of Kimberly’s imagination? “I was afraid they wouldn’t get it to you. To whoever adopted her—Marissa, I mean.” He nodded in Marissa’s direction, then handed the bracelet back to Kimberly. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“We were hoping you could give us some information,” Kimberly said.

She held her breath. Finally, finally, they were close to getting answers that could help Marissa’s doctors—why had Kimberly put this off? Why had she been so afraid to make this trip?

Daniel didn’t reply at first. Instead, he crossed the short distance to a chair and pulled it around to face the swing and the table. “Why don’t we all have a seat?” he suggested, before he collapsed into the chair as though his legs wouldn’t hold him any longer. “I’ve been picking beans since sunup, and I’m worn out. I see Ma got y’all some of her famous lemonade.”

Kimberly and Marissa sat back down as well, the swing rocking under them. “It’s very good, Chief Monroe,” Kimberly told him. “Please give your mother my compliments.”

But she couldn’t ease back in the swing, not even if Daniel Monroe had sagged back against his chair and was downing a glass of lemonade.

He might have all the time in the world, but she didn’t.

He placed the glass on the table with a thud. “Call me Daniel. I’m so new at the job that when I hear Chief, I think of my old boss, who recently retired, and when I hear Chief Monroe, I think they’re talking about my dad. He was chief for years, but that...”

Daniel paused, his face shutting down for a moment. It left Kimberly pondering whether his father had pulled some strings to get his son the job. That would explain why Daniel was relatively young and yet had such a position of responsibility.

But he still hadn’t offered any details about finding Marissa. Instead, he sat there, looking at them, his foot tapping restlessly on the porch floor, a pensive expression on his face.

“What—” Kimberly started to ask, but Marissa jumped in.

She blurted out, “So you found me? Where she dumped me?”

Kimberly winced. “She didn’t—”

Marissa started to roll her eyes, then stopped because she must have been sure Kimberly would nail her on it. “Mom, you can dress it up any way you want, but the facts are the facts—she dumped me. She didn’t want me, and she dumped me.”

Daniel frowned. It erased the boyishness Kimberly had seen earlier in his face. “She brought you to a place where you’d be safe. She thought that’s what she was doing—that fire stations were safe havens for newborns.”

“You talked with her, then?” Excitement bubbled up in Kimberly as she leaned toward Daniel, nearly knocking over her half-empty lemonade glass. She hadn’t dared to hope for anything as promising as this. All the court documents showed was that the baby had been left at the fire station.

“Yes.” Daniel’s response was clipped. “Briefly.”

“You knew my birth mother?” Despite her earlier hostility, Marissa leaned forward, as well. Gone was her fading-into-the-woodwork reaction, and Kimberly realized for the first time how deeply Marissa wanted to know about the woman—girl, really—who had brought her into the world.

“No. I didn’t know her. I guess you could say I met her. That would be accurate.”

“And she just drove up and handed me to you and left?” Marissa asked.

“No. Not exactly.”

Even Kimberly found herself more than a little exasperated with Daniel’s cagey answers. Am I going to have to drag it out of him bit by bit? I only have the summer! I have to find this woman, have to know if she can tell us anything that will help Marissa. “What can you tell us?” she asked.

He closed his eyes. For a few beats, he said nothing, only sat there, his arms folded across his chest.

Kimberly fought the urge to strangle him in frustration at his long silence. Finally he opened his eyes and gazed at her with a directness that jolted her. He compressed his lips and gave her a small, almost undetectable nod.

But his next words?

“Not much. I can’t tell you much at all.”

Then her heart did a double beat as he leaned forward and asked, “But how about I show you?”

CHAPTER TWO

DANIEL PARKED HIS pickup in the slot marked Chief and glanced in the rearview mirror. Yep. There was the little Toyota, with the mom and the daughter, pulling up behind him. They’d tailgated him the whole ride back into town from the farm.

He rubbed at a head that ached from too little sleep and too much sun. Between the new job and harvest time just gearing up, he felt as if he’d been run ragged.

And now this.

Blowing out a long breath, he opened the door. Gravel crunched under his foot, and behind him he heard the flags clanking against the pole. Wind was coming in from the west today, hot and dry. Unbidden, he found himself hoping there’d be no car fires on the interstate with such a stiff breeze.

Slamming the door, he saw that the girl and the woman had gotten out, as well. What was the mom’s name? Kimberly? Yeah, Kimberly. She wasn’t what he’d expected. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Adoptive parents didn’t have to look like their kids.

And Kimberly and Marissa didn’t match at all. Marissa had taken after Miriam, who’d been tall and had given Marissa her strawberry blond hair. Kimberly was slimmer and darker and much more petite. And she looked almost too young to be Marissa’s mother.

But like Miriam, Kimberly possessed courage of a sort. Miriam had ginned up the courage and the fortitude to escape a dangerous situation, and he figured Kimberly had shown a similar bravery to tackle the red tape required to adopt a baby.

“So it was here?” Kimberly asked him.

Daniel tore his mind away from the razor-sharp memories of that day—ten years ago? No, eleven. Almost twelve, actually, this coming July Fourth.

“Yes.” He found himself guarding his words. What could he tell them? What should he? Legally, he was in a bind, because Miriam was covered under Georgia’s safe-haven law. But more than that, he remembered the girl’s abject terror of her boyfriend’s parents finding out about Marissa.

He’d given Miriam his word. And it was up to him to keep it.

Beckoning for them to follow him, he walked out to the patch of lawn between the firehouse and the street. One of the crew had just mowed the grass, and it smelled fresh and green. Unlike that summer day, there was no redolent smell of charcoal and sizzling burgers from a July Fourth cookout by the crew, no shrieks from kids playing tag under sprinklers on the side yard.

“She pulled up here,” Daniel told them. “She was driving an old four-door. I was standing...” He pivoted, replaying the day in his head. “There, leaned against the side of the building. Everybody else had gone inside to eat.”

It was all fresh—the grief he’d felt over his dad not being with them on that day, the fact that he had angered and worried Ma with his sudden move to follow in his father’s footsteps as a firefighter, the last time his father had held his hand—his dad swathed in bandages, a mummy of a man in the burn unit.

Take care of your brothers and your sisters and Ma.

Keep your word, Danny, keep your word, no matter the cost.

The last words his father had spoken to him, an entreaty wrung out of a man in agony, a man needing assurance that his eldest son would take his place as the family’s leader.

And Daniel had promised his father that he would.

On that July Fourth, he’d been bent on escaping the day’s festivities, and that was why he’d been the one to see Miriam.

“What...sort of car?” Kimberly asked, behind him.

The question pulled him away from his own tangled emotions of that day and into the present. “You know, it was old. Like a 1970s Nova? I remember it had about four different colors of paint on it.”

Daniel turned back to face Marissa. Yes, she had Miriam’s red-gold hair, and it looked as though she was well on her way to achieving her biological mother’s height. Funny how they both twirled their long strawberry blond hair around their index fingers.

Funny how he could remember that small habit of Miriam’s at all.

“Is that why she dump—” Marissa broke off, apparently taking in the same look of exasperation that Daniel saw on Kimberly’s face. “Is that why she gave me up? Because she was poor?” Her words trembled with emotion.

“She gave you up because she cared about you. Because she couldn’t figure out a way to keep you safe and still keep you, so she decided that keeping you safe was the better choice.” Daniel fought a strange sense of protectiveness for Miriam, as though even the little he’d shared somehow violated his promise to her. “I honestly don’t know if she was rich or poor or even if the car was hers. All I can say for a fact is that you were born here, in this spot, on July 4, 2003.”

“I was born here? Right here? I thought...”

“You were born on the Fourth, right?” Now Daniel worried that maybe they’d gotten confused, that maybe this wasn’t the same Marissa after all. No. No she was definitely Miriam’s child.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. People call me a firecracker baby. Because of my hair and being born on the Fourth and all...” Her face wrinkled as she said this, and her fingers settled for a moment on her hair and again twisted a strand of it. She didn’t sound too enthused about the moniker.

Kimberly spoke up. “I didn’t know she was born here, either. The court papers said Marissa’s birth mother had tried to surrender her here at the fire station, and you were the firefighter who’d helped her. So...what can you tell us?” Kimberly asked. “What all do you remember? About that day?”

This Daniel could do. He smiled. “I was out here, minding my own business, and then this car comes roaring up, and I go to check it out...” He closed his eyes. The memory was still so sharp he could smell the charcoal. “And there you were, Marissa. Busy getting born, all on your own. You didn’t even wait for the EMTs, and they were inside.” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder to indicate the firehouse.

Again memories flooded him: the sweet weight of Marissa in his arms, the goofy feeling that swamped him as he held her.

The agony of having to turn her over to the child-welfare folks. At the hospital, he’d asked if he could keep her for a while, just in case Miriam changed her mind and came back for her daughter, but they said no, certainly not.

The “certainly not” had stuck in his craw. Miriam had trusted him. Why couldn’t they?

But there were laws and regulations and he knew that he really couldn’t raise Marissa on his own. So he’d made them promise that she would be placed in a good home.

Daniel had kissed the top of Marissa’s little red head and handed her over, and that was the last time he’d seen her.

Until now.

And the mom they’d picked out for Marissa did look like a pretty good mom. Kimberly was pretty, and seemed caring. He noticed the furrow in her brow as she fretted silently over Marissa. She was worried. But she wasn’t saying anything, just giving Marissa time to absorb what Daniel had told her.

“Really? You remember?” Marissa asked. Again, there was a tremor in her voice.

“As if it was yesterday.”

He tore his gaze away from the girl’s face, her expression so unreadable that he couldn’t be sure if what he was saying was helping or hurting. Daniel turned to look at Kimberly.

Now, she was an open book. Her eyes, that curious blue, were bright with unshed tears. Her throat was working, and he could tell she was moved by the moment.

Had to be hard, helping her adopted daughter revisit the day she came into the world. Did Kimberly envy that mother? Envy the chance to have given birth to Marissa herself? Or was she afraid that Marissa would leave her in search of her birth mom?

“I have a picture,” he said, his voice husky.

“A picture?” The words exploded from both Marissa and Kimberly. They stared at each other, their eyes wide with excitement.

“Can we see it?” Kimberly asked.

“Yeah. Sure. Come on. It’s in my office.”

Inside, Marissa glanced around the tiny office, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Kimberly was more patient, and he noticed how she laid a light hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Its fluttering movement seemed to comfort the clearly anxious Marissa.

He grabbed up the photo of him and Marissa and extended it to her. “See? I told you that you were tiny.”

She stared down. “Oh.” Disappointment was plain on her face. “I thought...I thought it would be of me and my birth mom.”

But Kimberly had taken the photo from Marissa and was staring down at it. She traced her finger over the image, her mouth softly parted. A tear snaked down her cheek, and Daniel liked the way she let it be.

She looked up at Daniel. “This is you. With Marissa.”

“Yeah. The guys took it. Right before I had to hand her over. DFCS said they’d find her a good home. Looks as if they did. I mean, I asked if I could keep you,” he blurted out to Marissa, “but I mean, who was I kidding. I was a twenty-five-year-old unmarried guy, a rookie firefighter. Who was gonna trust me with a kid, huh?”

Marissa’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “My mom was twenty-five when she adopted me. And she was single.”

Something about that twisted in him. He shot a questioning look toward Kimberly, and she nodded. “Yeah, but, Marissa, at first I was just a foster parent. Besides, I’d already gone through all the foster-care paperwork and the classes, and they’d done a home study. Plus...you were listed as a special-needs baby. They needed somebody who would take you, no questions asked.”

“Yeah. I forgot about all that.” She leaned over her mother’s shoulder and studied the photo. “Hey, I was kinda cute. I thought babies were ugly.”

“You were beautiful. Tiny. But beautiful. Except...” Daniel scratched his head as he recalled the bruises he’d left on her pale pink skin. Other bruises, that the EMTs shrugged off, had started popping up, as well. Part of the birthing process, they’d assured him.

Just then the “ennnh” of the fire alarm’s buzzer reverberated through the building, and the radio crackled to life. He listened, took in the bare facts: multicar accident on the interstate, gas-tank leak, trapped driver.

“Sorry,” he told Kimberly and Marissa. “This will have to wait.”

And then he was out the door, trying to focus on the fire call, the person trapped in the vehicle, that dry westerly breeze that could make fires on the interstate get out of hand with hair-raising speed.

But as he pulled on the last of his turnout gear and swung into the station’s extended cab pickup with his captain at the wheel, he caught sight of Kimberly and Marissa’s faces.

His gaze fixed on their expressions as Dave, his captain, peeled out behind the fire engine.

Marissa’s was typical tweenager, like his nieces and nephews, her eyes alive with curiosity and excitement.

Kimberly? Her fingers went to her mouth, her brow creased ever so slightly and her eyes were dark with worry as they locked with his. She knew the life. The risks. The fact that even with routine calls, there were never any guarantees.

He didn’t know how Kimberly knew, but her eyes held that same look that Ma’s had every time his dad had left the table to answer a call.

And he didn’t know how he felt about having someone he’d barely met worrying that much about him.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU’RE SURE YOU don’t mind waiting?” Kimberly asked Marissa as they sat on the front bench in front of the fire station. They’d passed some of the time in the chief’s office, but the cramped confines had seemed to make Marissa more restless, so Kimberly had suggested a change of scene. “The secretary said that it could take a while.”

“I wish I could have gone with them!” Marissa enthused. “You know, see them cut the car up. Mrs. Karen—” she jabbed a finger back toward the station and the secretary’s office “—she said they had to use the Jaws of Life. Man, wouldn’t that be cool, Mom? To see them save somebody’s life?”

Kimberly shuddered. She’d already picked up enough of the garbled radio traffic to understand that the woman driver was in critical condition and that the extrication was taking longer than Daniel had anticipated.

No, when she thought about the accident, all Kimberly could picture was Marissa trapped in that car, critically injured, dying—it could have been them on that very interstate. She shook herself and purposefully focused her mind away from the grim vision and onto appreciating her good fortune.

Maybe they should leave and come back. Daniel would likely be tired and not in the mood for pesky questions when he returned. And wouldn’t he have loads of paperwork? She needed him to be as cooperative as possible so that she could pick up any facts that might lead her to Marissa’s birth mother. It was important.

No. She thought again about that woman trapped in the car. It was critical to find Marissa’s birth mother.

“Maybe I could be a firefighter, huh, Mom?” Beside her, Marissa bounced with excitement. “It’s a rush, don’t you think? I mean, you’re sitting here, or maybe washing the truck, and then, boom! You’ve got to fight a fire or get somebody out of a building—”

Kimberly didn’t say the first thing that popped into her mind as Marissa burbled on. She didn’t point out, not even gently, that there was no way a doctor would ever approve Marissa for a job as risky as a firefighter...or a police officer or a soldier or astronaut—any of the adrenaline-buzzing careers that Marissa gravitated toward. Maybe her daughter said she wanted to be those things because Kimberly had pointed out that they just weren’t possible—and not because she was a girl, but because...

The rumble of the fire engine around the curve tugged her thoughts back to Daniel.

He did look weary when he slid out of the cab of the truck. His face was smeared with soot, his turnout jacket loosened to reveal a grimy white T-shirt.

“You’re still here,” he observed as his boots hit the concrete driveway.

“Yeah, you said— We waited.” Now Kimberly was doubly uncertain about her decision. “But we can come back. I expect you’re tired and you—”

“Hey, Chief! Did you save her?” Marissa interjected. “Is she okay? The woman in the car?”

“They airlifted her to Macon. I think she’s got a good shot.” Daniel’s face brightened as he shifted to face Marissa.

“That is so cool! I wish I could have been there!”

“You sound like my niece. She’s determined to be a firefighter when she grows up. Gives my mother a heart attack every time she mentions it.”

Kimberly couldn’t help but admire the way Daniel was so patient and careful with Marissa. Maybe the fact that he had a niece explained it? Or maybe...maybe he still felt a connection with the baby girl he’d saved all those years ago?

“Should we come back?” Kimberly asked him, trying to gauge his willingness to talk with them.

He shook his head. “No. No, you’ve waited all this time. But can I have a few minutes to grab a shower? You wouldn’t want to be cooped up with me in my condition right now.”

Marissa spoke up again. “Can I help your firefighters some way? I mean, you’ve got to get things cleaned or organized or...something, right?”

Daniel chuckled, and Kimberly tried not to roll her eyes. This was the same girl who thought unloading the dishwasher every morning was equivalent to torture.

“Sure.” He called over his shoulder to a firefighter—a woman, Kimberly noted. “Bobbi, show this probie how to check the hoses.”

“You got it, Chief,” Bobbi told him.

Then he turned to Kimberly. “Five minutes? You can wait in my office if you’d like.”

It was more like ten minutes when he joined Kimberly. His hair was damp and curling, a droplet of water still clinging to the lock that brushed his forehead, but he looked less tired and more refreshed.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, the picture.” He picked up the photo, which Kimberly had placed on his desk after his hasty departure.

“Can I—can I get a copy of this?” Kimberly asked him. “It’s a gorgeous photo. I’d love to have one, that is, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” He nodded, and the droplet of water on his dark hair flew off. “I can scan it and email it to you, or I can go over to Walmart and get a copy made. How long are you going to be in town?”

“Er...that depends. We’re trying to track down Marissa’s birth mother. So if we can find her and talk with her, then we’ll probably be leaving fairly soon.”

“Oh, no. You...” Daniel worked his mouth, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

“I mean, you can tell us, right? Where to find her?” Kimberly scooted to the edge of the hard plastic chair, her stomach full of fluttering anxiety.

“She’s been in touch with you?” Daniel asked instead of giving her the positive answer she had been hoping for.

“No. We knew about this place...and you...” She swept a hand to encompass the fire station. “And it was the only real clue we had, so we started here.”

“I’m afraid this is a dead end, then,” Daniel told her. “I can’t tell you any more than I already have. I did tell you that I didn’t know your daughter’s birth mother. Didn’t I?”

“You said that, but... I mean, if you thought back, you could remember details. And surely she mentioned her name.” Kimberly hated the way her voice went up a half octave, that she was practically begging.

Daniel did a double take. His next words were loaded with patient forbearance that somehow managed to irk Kimberly even more than if he’d snapped at her. “Look, I know you’ve come all this way—I guess it’s a long way?”

“Atlanta. We live in Sandy Springs, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s, what? Two and a half, three hours?” At her nod, he went on, “Yeah, a bit of a road trip. Like I was saying, you’ve come all this way, but I don’t think I can help you. I’ve pretty much told you what I can.”

“No. No, I’m sure there’s more,” Kimberly insisted. “Like what she looked like, or how you remembered what sort of car she was driving, and maybe she told you something that would help us locate her? And her parents? I mean, she was sixteen, she had to have parents—” Kimberly’s throat, thick with emotion, closed up on her and she couldn’t go on.

Daniel rubbed his mouth. He fingered the photo of him and Marissa as an infant. Kimberly could see him weigh a decision in his mind.

“Kimberly—may I call you Kimberly?” When she nodded, he continued, “I realize the not knowing is probably tough on the both of you. But have you really thought through whether this is a good idea?”

Now Kimberly’s alarm turned to anger. “A good idea? My daughter desperately needs to find out about her birth mother—and anything she can about her medical history. She has a—a—” Again she choked on her words. She worked through her emotions, trying not to be the stereotypical hysterical female that would be all too easy for Daniel to dismiss.

Daniel sat back in his chair, his eyes focused on her with unwavering attention. Sounds of the firefighters working to restore equipment filtered into his office, but he said nothing while he waited on her to compose herself. She appreciated that. He didn’t rush her. She was sure he had loads to do, and this was his day off, after all, but she could sense no impatience on his part.

“So...I take it,” he said finally, “this isn’t just idle curiosity, this reason you’re searching for Marissa’s birth mother? Because, I have to tell you, state law says her birth mother should remain anonymous. That’s the deal—healthy baby surrendered in a safe and approved way in exchange for anonymity and no child-endangerment charges.”

Kimberly let out a breath. Did he need a good reason to give her the information? Well, she had a jam-up one.

“No, it’s not just idle curiosity. Not at all,” she said. “Marissa has a life-threatening bleeding disorder, and her hem/onc—her hematologist-oncologist team in Atlanta—need to know everything they can. So please, please, any scrap you could give us, any way that we could track down her birth mother... It could mean the difference between life or death for Marissa.”

CHAPTER FOUR

DANIEL SUPPRESSED AN inward groan at Kimberly’s revelation. For a moment, he looked past her out the half pane of glass in his office door to the open back door and the yard beyond.

There was Marissa, wrangling fire hoses with Bobbi. She looked strong and healthy and practically glowed with enthusiasm and energy.

This kid’s sick?

“You don’t mean... Like what? Leukemia or something?” he asked.

Kimberly shook her head. “No, not a blood disorder. A bleeding disorder. Her blood doesn’t clot properly. Well, it doesn’t stay clotted properly.”

He tried to work out what she was saying. “But I thought—call me a doofus—but I thought only boys could get hemophilia.”

Kimberly rewarded him with a patient smile. “No, not at all. I mean—not to get too technical, but there’s more than one sort of bleeding disorder. Girls can get certain kinds, too. And Marissa is one of the unlucky ones.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering this new information and how it impacted his promise to Miriam.

Miriam.

He was flooded with an image of her little finger winding around his over the white sheet of her hospital bed, after he’d refused to bust her out of the hospital so she could run away...

“Daniel, you’ve got to promise,” she’d said. “Pinkie promise. You can’t tell anybody here who I am. Not anybody, because then he’ll find her, and he...he can’t.” The girl’s eyes had flooded with tears. “He just can’t. I want her safe, and away from him, and the only way is if they don’t know who I am. So...pinkie promise?”

At the time, he’d thought it a sad testimony that a girl who’d given birth was still young enough to use the phrase pinkie promise and believe in its power. He’d been inclined to not make that promise...until she’d blurted out the whole story, and until he’d clapped eyes on Uriel Hostetler.

And then he’d promised. Not a pinkie promise. A solemn oath...

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying? You look as though you’re a million miles away!”

Kimberly’s accusation hit the nail on the head. “I’m sorry. I was just... She looks so healthy.”

Kimberly craned her head around in the direction he’d been staring and caught sight of Marissa. Her anger at him crumpled—he could see it in the way her eyes welled up with tears, which she blinked back.

“She does, doesn’t she?” Kimberly whispered. “You’ve got to help us.”

Daniel stood, stared out his office window at the cars going past. Listened for a moment to the cheerful ribbing between the firefighters.

It was that ribbing that made him decide. All that protected those men was their training and their promises to each other. After all was said and done, that was what a man was: his promise.

Daniel turned back to face her. She deserved that, at least. “Look...I want to.”

“I hear a but.”

He nodded. “You hear right. I’m in a jam. Legally, I can’t. Like I said, it’s a violation of the law for me to tell you anything that could identify her. Not just the laws that protect patient privacy—but the safe-haven law, too. The birth mother has to waive that right.”

Whatever softness had been in Kimberly’s face hardened with frustration. “But that’s the point! I’m sure she would if she knew we needed her help. I’m not asking for anything else, only her medical history.”

But so fast that he almost missed it, he saw Kimberly slide her middle finger across her index finger. He gave her a pointed look. “Really? Because somehow I don’t believe that.”

Kimberly’s face pinked. He found himself liking the way she found it difficult to lie. “It’s all I want. I can’t say the same for Marissa. I’m not sure what she would want to know about her birth mother.”

Daniel rubbed his jaw. The weariness of the day was catching up with him. Tomorrow he’d be back on schedule, back to figuring out exactly what being chief meant after his sudden promotion. He didn’t think he had the energy to sort out the ethical conundrum of Kimberly’s request. He’d made a promise, and besides that, the law said he couldn’t give her the answers she wanted.

“Isn’t there some other way to find out the information that you need? I mean, this is the age of genetic testing, where they can do anything in the lab. What could her family history tell you that the tests can’t?”

“That’s just it—that genetic testing.” Kimberly scooched up to the edge of the chair, eager to plead her case. “This bleeding disorder is a mystery. It’s so rare, Daniel. The doctors don’t know for sure what it is. They’ve run almost every test there is out there, and there’s...well, nothing. Apart from one other test—one level of her blood. It’s called a PAI-1 test—”

“Pie? Like an apple pie?” He couldn’t stop the chuckle that sprang to his lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh—”

She grinned back at him, and Daniel realized how much sunshine her smile brought into the room. It was a beautiful smile.

“No, I said the exact same thing when I first heard it. It stands for plasminogen activator inhibitor—P-A-I. It’s a... Well, okay—” Now Kimberly stood, too, her body restless as she began to pace in front of his desk. “Your blood is like a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got lots of different pieces that have to fall into place if it’s going to clot—and stay clotted. If one of those pieces is missing or doesn’t work right, well...”

“And Marissa is missing this PAI-1?”

“They don’t know. Her hem/onc says the test isn’t conclusive, but it’s his best guess. The only way that they can conclusively diagnose it is through a DNA test or through a family history.”

“So you can do a DNA test, then.” A huge wave of relief swept over Daniel. He had an out.

“Oh, we could.” Kimberly’s mouth twisted. “But the only labs that can do the DNA testing are in Europe...and our insurance won’t cover it. I’ve begged them...and they refuse.”

The relief turned sour in his stomach. “That’s...that’s too bad.”

“Besides that, her doctors say that inherited bleeding disorders are variable. Some are severe, some not so much. But if there’s a family history...well, you can predict the course of it better. You know, like how she’d respond to surgery or trauma. I— Her doctors don’t know.”

She was fighting like all get-out not to cry, and he was impressed by that. Her grief and worry skewered Daniel, much as his mother’s had in the days following his father’s injury and death. And he understood then how Kimberly had known to worry about that car accident on the interstate. She’d imagined the worst a thousand times already.

But he’d given away his promise. And it had been for a very good reason, or at least he’d thought so at the time.

He walked around the desk and let himself be bold enough to give her the briefest touch on her upper arm. The contact felt more intimate than he’d meant it to, maybe because the warm silkiness of her skin tempted his fingertips to linger.

But she didn’t protest. She stared up at him, her lips parted in an unspoken plea.

“I am sorry,” Daniel told her. “I can’t.”

Kimberly whirled away from him and was halfway to the door before she accused over her shoulder, “You mean, you won’t.”

With that, she yanked open the door, intent on leaving.

Then she paused. Took a deep breath that he could see move through her slim body. Stared at him with those pleading eyes again.

“We’re staying at the La Quinta near the interstate. Room 209. If you change your mind.”

Then she was out the door and across the firehouse to retrieve Marissa.

Marissa, the baby he’d already said goodbye to once before.

Daniel collapsed into the office chair in front of his desk and picked up the photo of him and Marissa. In his mind’s eye, he could see the bruises flowering against her pale baby skin, and he knew those memories gave credence to what Kimberly had told him.

With fingers that shook ever so slightly, he slid the photo out of the frame and watched as a slip of paper fluttered onto his lap.

The handwriting in the ballpoint ink was shaky, but still held a sixteen-year-old’s flourishes, the hearts over the i’s, the loopy M.

Miriam Graber—born on September 19, 1986.

She’d added a phone number and an address, but Daniel had discovered that both were bogus when he’d called to check on her. So maybe the birth date was, too.

Still.

A quick online search would probably turn up a short list of possible Miriams. And if she’d gone back to her family—who’d been bent on returning to the Indiana Amish community where they’d come from—it couldn’t be that hard to find her. There had to be some roll or register or paperwork somewhere. Census records, maybe? And now that she was an adult, maybe even voter registration lists?

He could do it.

Daniel stared from the paper to his computer. Considered.

Then he folded the paper and put it back behind the photo and the photo back in the frame.

Because there was nothing that said he had to do it right now.

CHAPTER FIVE

KIMBERLY’S HEAD ACHED as the hotel room’s television blared out canned laughter from cartoon reruns that Marissa had watched a thousand times before. Yeah, it would be great if our problems could be solved in a half hour minus commercials.

She stared down at the list she was trying to make and attempted to focus on it.

People who might know something:

EMTs who responded

Police who responded

Emergency room staff

Newspaper reporter

Former fire chief

The person who took the picture of Daniel and Marissa

Daniel. He knew something. He was hiding some key piece of information.

The laughter blared out again. Marissa slurped loudly from the fast-food drink she still had from lunch and completely demolished whatever little focus Kimberly had managed to muster.

Kimberly whipped her head around, ready to snap at her daughter to turn the television down and throw the cup away already when she took in Marissa’s expression as the girl seemed to gaze at some point in the distance.

Marissa was stretched out, belly flat on the turned-back duvet, her chin propped on one hand and the empty cup in her other. Her eyes were wistful. Sad. She wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the TV.

Kimberly pushed her chair back from the unsteady laminate table and crossed the room to switch off the television. Marissa didn’t even complain.

When she sat down beside her, Marissa jumped slightly. “Oh, sorry!” she mumbled. “I was thinking.”

“I can see that. What’s on your mind?”

“I just... Well, I just thought I’d know by now. You know. Why.”

The whole search for a family medical history had been a Pandora’s box, as far as Kimberly could see it. She’d waited as long as she could, fought the insurance company on appeal after appeal. But when that didn’t pan out, she knew she had to try to find another way to get that diagnosis.

Finding that diagnosis meant finding the girl who had given up Marissa. The prospect had filled Marissa with all sorts of conflicting emotions that Kimberly wished she could spare her daughter.

She squeezed Marissa’s arm gently. “I know, honey. I thought so, too.”

“We’re never gonna find her, are we?” Marissa flopped over and stared up at the ceiling. “And the doctors are just gonna keep poking me and doing test after test after test and you’re never gonna know what’s wrong with me. And...I’m never gonna know why.”

Kimberly’s throat closed up. She could barely breathe, much less swallow past the lump that had formed there.

Be the parent. Be the grown-up.

“Chin up,” she told Marissa in what she hoped was a brighter voice than she felt. “We’re not out of hope yet. I’m making a list of everybody who might know something.”

Marissa giggled, her nose wrinkling and her eyes crinkling up. “You and your lists.”

“Don’t poke fun. They work.”

“So let’s get started, then. Go bang on some doors. Anything is better than being holed up in this dump.” Marissa exploded off the bed and started a search for her shoes. A loud dull thunk resounded from the bed’s wooden toe-kick. “Ow! I stubbed my toe!”

“What? Is it—” Kimberly forced herself to stay calm. “Are you hurt?” She tried to ask this casually, as if she was a normal mom with a normal kid.

“Yes, I’m hurt! It hurts really bad—” Marissa hopped on one leg back to the bed, where she examined her toe. Kimberly could see no sign of injury.

The bruise would come later. And it would tell the story.

“Relax, Mom. It’s okay. Nobody ever died from a stubbed toe, it just hurts. Normal kid hurt, okay? No need to get all worked up. Why do they put that under there anyway?”

“To make it easier to clean up—if it’s blocked off, nobody can put anything under the bed,” Kimberly told her. She rose. “I don’t know if we can find anyone—”

“You mean, like a body? That would be creepy, wouldn’t it? Finding a body under the bed?” She shuddered dramatically.

Kimberly succumbed to the temptation of a heavenward gaze and shook her head. “I think they had in mind something more like dust bunnies or an absentminded eleven-year-old’s flip-flops. Like I was saying, it’s almost five o’clock, so I’m not sure what we can get accomplished today. Are you ready for some dinner somewhere?”

“I so can’t believe I’m asking this.” Marissa shook her head in doleful disbelief. “And if you put this on Facebook, I will deny it to my dying day. But can we go somewhere that’s not fast food? I miss real food. I miss you making me eat my vegetables. Can we go somewhere with some broccoli or something so that I can eat it and gag, and then enjoy a hamburger again?”

Marissa’s crooked little grin warmed Kimberly.

“Sure. Open that drawer there and hand me the phone book—”

But her request was interrupted by a knock on the door. They exchanged glances. Marissa held up her hands and in playful mock seriousness pronounced, “I didn’t do nothin’.”

Kimberly stepped to the door and stared through the peephole.

Daniel.

With shaking fingers, she unbolted the security lock and swung the door wide to allow the fire chief entry. “Daniel! I—I honestly wasn’t expecting you. Uh, come in!”

He didn’t budge from the threshold. Instead, he rested one hand on the doorjamb and shuffled a work-boot-clad foot before he said, “Actually...I just came by to— Uh, I was wondering. Would you two care for some supper?”

Kimberly was gobsmacked by the invitation. Was this his way of gearing up to tell them who Marissa’s birth mother was? Her thoughts were so weighed down with a blur of questions and pulsating hope that she couldn’t even give him an answer.

“Is it fast food?” Marissa blurted into the silence.

Regret etched his features. His rangy frame began turning away, as if they’d said no. “Uh, no. I wasn’t thinking of something quick. Sorry, I guess I didn’t consider what a kid might like to eat. I’ll leave you two to your—”

“I’m in!” Marissa bounced off the bed, the total antithesis of the pensive child she’d been a few minutes before. “Mom? You need your purse?”

CHAPTER SIX

FOR THE FIRST few minutes in the truck, silence reigned. Yes, Daniel had switched off the radio as it blared a staticky sports talk show when they’d driven out of the parking lot, but after that, he didn’t offer much in the way of small talk.

The way he drove, his strong hands lightly gripping the steering wheel at precisely ten o’clock and two o’clock, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, the speedometer never straying above the posted speed limit, didn’t encourage Kimberly to attempt any conversation.

Marissa, she noted wryly, didn’t break the silence, either, despite her enthusiastic acceptance of Daniel’s invitation. Something about wheels turning on a vehicle signaled her to slap her earbuds in and listen to whatever was on her iPod. And as soon as she had slid into the crew cab seat of Daniel’s pristine truck, she’d done just that.

So Kimberly occupied herself with absorbing the sights. The town was small by Atlanta standards, but it was busy. The four-lane they were on, while not exactly choked with traffic, still held a good number of impatient five-o’clock drivers.

She watched as they passed by a host of fast-food joints and several casual dining choices—a steak house, a buffet-style restaurant, a Mexican place, something that looked like a mom-and-pop Italian pizzeria. Strip malls gave way to the downtown, its buildings showing signs of a recent facelift and heavy on planters filled with bright annuals, stores with colorful awnings and sidewalks with strips of deep redbrick.

When Daniel passed up the two downtown restaurants shoehorned among jewelry stores, boutiques and a bakery, something niggled in the back of her mind.

That something went to full-alert status as he made a turn onto a familiar-looking highway heading out of town.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

It took him a minute to respond, almost as if he didn’t register what she’d asked at first. “Oh! Didn’t I say? Sorry. Out to the farm. Is that okay? We’re having supper out there, and I thought...since it was Marissa...”

A peek over her shoulder netted Kimberly a quick averted glance from Marissa, but not before she had seen a flash of telltale curiosity. So. Marissa had been listening in on the conversation despite the earbuds.

Kimberly swiveled a bit in her seat to face Daniel. “Your mom won’t mind? We don’t want to intrude—”

He took a hand off the steering wheel, waved it to dismiss her concern. “No, Ma was all for it. And so was everybody else.”

“Everybody else?” Exactly what was she walking into? Kimberly didn’t mind standing up in front of thirty students to hammer the intricacies of English grammar into their heads, but she’d never been great at social gatherings.

She’d been a shy child who’d grown into a shy teenager, much to the disappointment of her social extrovert of a mother. Between working an unending series of low-paying jobs as a waitress or bartender and blowing off steam with her current group of party-hardy friends, her mother had pretty much left Kimberly to her own devices.

Daniel seemed to thaw a bit. His eyes, that amazing sky blue, crinkled at the corners, his mouth curved up and his whole demeanor lightened. “I gotta warn you, it’s a brood of us. Ma had six of us, three boys and three girls, and so the house is always rocking. I hope you don’t mind kids, because there’s probably a half dozen around all the time.”

“Yours?” Was he married? She realized she was disappointed—and that she’d already checked out his ringless third finger without even being aware she had.

“Oh, no. My sisters’ kids—let’s see, there’s Taylor and Sean and the twins, and Cassandra, and—”

He kept reeling off names, and every additional one made her palms grow even damper. This sounded more like a family reunion than supper—and it turned her stomach into the headquarters for a butterfly convention.

Those butterflies were in mad midflutter when Daniel turned onto the bumpy driveway to the farmhouse. As he drove past the chickens, she shook off her anxiety to blurt out, “Why do you use a whole pasture for a single flock of chickens?”

“Well, it fertilizes the pasture. And then our cows eat the grass, and they fertilize it some more, and then we rotate out our crops. We try to do everything pretty much organic here—better for the land. My dad...my dad was a big believer in being a good steward to the land. It’s how he would have wanted us to continue.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his face became closed off. Kimberly wasn’t exactly sure what to say—it was obvious from Daniel’s tone and use of the past tense that the one person who wouldn’t be here was his father.

They had that in common, then...although Daniel’s father probably wasn’t a ne’er-do-well who spent more time in jail than on the streets like her dad, who had finally died in a prison knife fight. No, Kimberly decided as she slid out of the truck onto the carefully tended lawn—Daniel’s family seemed to be a different kettle of fish altogether.

They had parked around back, and Kimberly could see that the lawn around the back deck and tall white privacy fence was filled with cars and trucks—had to be nearly a dozen. Children scampered around the deck in swimsuits and shorts. A loud screech followed a sudden splash of water.

“Sean Robert Anderson! You are dead! D-E-A-D, do you hear me?” a woman yelled. “Because now that I’m good and wet, there’s no reason for me not to jump in and drown you, now, is there?”

A smaller splash signaled someone had gone in after the unfortunate soon-to-be-deceased Sean Robert.

“Wait, no— Aunt Cara, it was an accident. I swear— No, not the tickles, not—”

Laughter spilled out over the fence with its carefully tended rosebushes—not just from the boy and his aunt, but other people, too. For a moment, Kimberly was frozen in place by a potent mix of feeling wistful and bashful.

Daniel had gone on ahead, but must have sensed that she was no longer beside him. He turned, grinned and crooked his finger. “C’mon. I promise. They’re loud, but they don’t bite.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the way he’d beckoned her to come. Silly. But for a moment, she wished that he was more than just a polite guy with a secret or two to hide.

A screen door squawked open at the back of the house, off the deck. “Daniel? Did she and the girl come?”

It was Daniel’s mother, wearing an apron, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Around her still more kids spilled out.

“I wanna see the baby! Can I see her?” a towheaded boy of about six asked.

Another, an older sister by the resemblance, rolled her eyes. “Logan, it’s not a baby. She’s my age. Uncle Daniel found her when she was a baby.”

Logan looked disappointed, then confused. “So why didn’t he keep her?”

By now, Daniel’s mother had cut the distance to Kimberly and Marissa in half. Kimberly’s feet started moving to the woman of their own volition—she found it impossible to resist her warm, welcoming smile and the twinkle in her eyes.

“It’s good to see you again!” his mother said in way of greeting, as if they were long-lost family members, not perfect strangers. “Thank you so much for coming out to eat with us—it’s not fancy, now, just plain fixin’s. And be sure to call me Ma, everybody does. If you call me anything else, I might not answer.”

“Thank you.” Kimberly’s tongue couldn’t wrap itself around any other words, but it didn’t matter, because in all the noise and laughter, Colleen Monroe didn’t seem to notice. She just put one arm around Kimberly shoulders, and the other around Marissa’s, and guided them to the deck.

“Hey, there,” Logan’s big sister said to Marissa. “I’m Taylor. You bring a swimsuit? No? Well, we look about the same size, and I’ve got a spare. What do you have on that iPod? Want to see my playlists?”

And with that, Marissa would have been gone without so much as a backward glance if Ma hadn’t hollered after her, “Marissa, honey, you have any food allergies?”

Taylor rolled her eyes again. “Ma! Just because I have food allergies doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I will always ask, young lady. And besides, I saw the medical ID bracelet on Marissa’s wrist. I want my food to be safe for everybody.”

But there was no sting in those words—in either of their responses. It wasn’t the vicious power struggle that Kimberly remembered between her and her mother, and she’d never really known her grandparents.

Marissa shook her head. “No. No food allergies.”

“Great! Y’all go on, have a good time.” Ma turned again to Kimberly. “Don’t mind me asking Marissa instead of you, but around here, we’re trying to get Taylor to be the one in charge of her food allergies—peanuts and corn, of all things.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Personal responsibility about your health is a really big thing for me,” Kimberly said as she followed Ma into the kitchen.

If outside was noisy, in the kitchen it was pure bedlam. Every counter was full of in-progress meal prep, with two women working alongside still more kids. They greeted her with distracted but warm hellos and introductions, and then someone pressed a bunch of carrots and a peeler in her hands. Before she knew it, Kimberly had forgotten to be shy and had fallen right into working beside them.

And she loved it. Here, she felt respect and family love radiate out and wash over her. The teasing, the joshing, the inside jokes—things she swore normally would have made her feel more alien instead made her feel as though she could fade securely into the background and absorb it all just by osmosis.

As she was finishing up the carrots and turning to ask if they should be sliced, diced or shredded, she felt a tug on her pants. She looked down to see the towheaded boy staring up at her.

“You’re pretty,” he said. “Are you gonna be Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend? Because his last one wasn’t nearly so pretty as you.”

“Uh, Logan, I, uh—”

“Nope, I’m Landon, can’t you tell? I’m bigger than Logan. ’Cause I was first, so that means I’m oldest. So are you? Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend?”

Thoroughly flummoxed by how identical the boy was to his brother and by his question, which had been issued in a rare moment of quiet in the kitchen, Kimberly stared around for help. DeeDee, the little boy’s mom, had stepped out to check on the meat on the grill. The other women could barely smother their amusement. To her chagrin, she saw Daniel himself had come in. He leaned against the doorjamb, an amused smile playing on his lips as he waited for her answer.

She stuttered it out. “No, no, I’m not, Landon. Your uncle is just a... Well, he’s a...”

What was Daniel to her? She locked eyes with him, feeling a strange buzz of connection. Already he was more than the stranger she’d met that morning. He’d been the man who’d saved her daughter, and didn’t that mean he was more to them than some random Joe Blow?

Daniel took pity on her. “I hope she and Marissa will be my friends, Landon. Wouldn’t that be good? To have a new friend?”

“She’d be better as a girlfriend. Mama said you needed a girlfriend, and so I figured maybe you were gonna mind her, you know, like you say I need to mind Mama?”

Just then, Landon’s mother stepped back inside with a platter full of grilled pork chops, her face beet-red. “Landon Anderson! If you’re going to ‘mind’ me, then maybe you should do a better job listening when I tell you to lay off the personal questions!”

“It wasn’t personal, Mama! It wasn’t about the bathroom or how much she weighs or—”

“Come on, bud.” Daniel held out his arms. “I think it’s time we hightailed it out of here—what do you say about a ride on my shoulders? Let’s go find out what your uncle Rob and uncle Andrew are up to, huh, buddy?”

“Daniel! You’re encouraging him!” DeeDee protested. “How will he ever learn what’s appropriate if all of y’all keep laughing it up about how cute he is when he gets too personal?”

“I’ll have a serious heart-to-heart with him, Scout’s honor. We’ll do the whole boundaries deal.” By that time, Daniel had swung the kid up on his shoulders and the kitchen rang with Landon’s giggles of delight.

Something about the sight melted Kimberly’s heart. Maybe it was because she’d never had anyone do that for Marissa. Maybe any handsome guy with any cute kid would have made any single mom’s insides quiver.

Or maybe it was the way he held her gaze just a tenth of a second longer and added in an offhand manner, “I’ll keep an eye out for Marissa, too.”

Whatever it was, Kimberly had to remind herself that the only reason they were here, in the midst of everything she couldn’t give Marissa, was that Daniel, handsome or not, was holding out about Marissa’s birth mom.

And that didn’t square with the man strolling out the back door, a little boy securely on his shoulders.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE LAST DISH was washed, the grill cleaned, the scraps fed to Rufus and even Landon and Logan were splayed out on the floor asleep in the living room. Daniel looked around for Kimberly, sure she’d want to head home.

Maegan caught his gaze and whispered over the sleeping baby in her arms, “I think she went to check on Taylor and Marissa.”

Daniel couldn’t help but reach out to stroke baby Sophie’s plump cheek. Just as his fingers drew closer, Maegan swatted him away. “Don’t even think about it. It took me a half hour to get my niece asleep, and if you wake her up, she can be your niece again.”

“She is my niece.”

“Funny, ha-ha, you always seem to forget that when she’s cranky and crying, big brother.” But there was no real reproach in Maegan’s voice, just her usual teasing.

“I guess I’d better see if Kimberly is ready to go. I got sidetracked with the dynamic duo...” He trailed off and pivoted toward the back of the house.

“Hey, Daniel...I really like her,” Maegan called after him in a hoarse whisper.

“Sophie?” he asked.

“No, you big lug. Kimberly. And Marissa. I’m glad you brought them out here.”

Daniel nodded, but he wasn’t convinced that it had been his smartest move. He’d viewed it as a consolation prize, a way to give them something when he couldn’t break the promise he’d made so many years ago. Now he worried that it would be harder than ever to keep that promise.

He found Kimberly standing stock-still in front of a bedroom door, the door slightly ajar. Tweenage-girl voices came filtering through it. When Kimberly spotted him, she blushed but held up a finger to her lips.

“—and I thought I had it bad,” Marissa was saying. “You mean you never get to eat a Big Mac?”

“Nope. High fructose corn syrup in the ketchup and the bun. But I get to drink the coffee, so whenever I go with friends, I get me a coffee and sip on it.”

“Wow! You get coffee? My mom would never let me drink coffee. It’s always, ‘Marissa, remember your bleeding disorder,’ or ‘Be careful, Marissa,’ or...I dunno. She doesn’t mean to be a pain, but man, is she ever a helicopter mom. That could be her motto, you know? I am Helicopter Mom. Feel my rotor wash.”

“But you’ve got that cool medical ID bracelet... Wow! I’ve got to get my mom to order one like that. Where’d you say you got it? Mine’s all clunky, like something a fifty-year-old man would wear with pants up to his armpits and a sweater vest,” Taylor declared.

That, along with the rotor-wash comment, was the last straw for Daniel. He felt a mix of laughter and shame at eavesdropping pulse through him, and he tugged Kimberly by the arm and headed down the hall and out the door to the side porch.

“Do you do that a lot?” he asked. “Listen in at keyholes?”

“No. And I got my just desserts, let me tell you. Feel my rotor wash?” She laughed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You know, the two of us are smack-dab in the middle of middle-aged, if those girls think fifty is ancient.” Daniel sank down into the swing and let out a belly laugh.

Kimberly collapsed beside him, closer than she’d been all night. He could feel the silky strands of her hair brush against his arm, smell the scent of strawberries clinging to her as she chuckled along with him.

She lolled her head back on the swing and stared up at the porch ceiling. Her laughter petered out into a rueful sigh.

“I only want to keep her safe, you know? Safe and healthy. But...if I make sure she survives to be a grown-up, will her love for me survive, too?” Kimberly’s words vibrated with a regret and uncertainty that pulled at Daniel. With a team under his command, and the memory of the awful fire that had claimed his father and critically injured several other firefighters, he understood Kimberly’s dilemma perfectly.

He didn’t even realize that he’d clasped her hand in his until he felt her twine her fingers more tightly into his grip. But he couldn’t pull away. Her hand in his fit too neatly, too right.

“It’s a tough job. I’m sort of in the same boat, what with keeping my guys fit and healthy and safe. They don’t see the need for the exercise program I’ve insisted on, or the regular home-cooked meals. You know the number one killer of firefighters in the line of duty? Heart attacks. Not burns, not smoke inhalation, not heat stroke. Heart attacks. Every time I see a fast-food sack in one of my guys’ hands, I can almost picture him keeling over in the middle of a structure fire.”

“But they respect you. I could tell that. Today. They listened to you, they didn’t argue.” Something in the way Kimberly said it made Daniel sure that she didn’t enjoy the same rapport with Marissa. “So how do you keep them safe and not make them hate you?”

“Ultimately it’s easier with guys who need a paycheck,” Daniel admitted. “With kids... Honestly? I don’t know. When I was Taylor and Marissa’s age, I thought I was ten feet tall and bulletproof, too. Still, even with kids... I mean, she’s almost twelve, right? So you can ease up. She knows, Kimberly. She gets it, even if you don’t think so. I see that in Taylor. She may carp and complain, but when someone offers her something to eat, she’s the first one to say, ‘No label? No, thank you.’”

Kimberly snuggled deeper into the cushions of the swing—and tighter against Daniel—as she slipped off her shoes and tucked one foot under her. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed the petite perfection of that foot, with the pale pink polish on the toes. Inwardly, he shook himself.

This woman would be gone by tomorrow. What they had here was some sort of fake chemistry, some tenuous bond because of their link to Marissa. It wasn’t real. And even if it was...

Kimberly yawned. In a drowsy, distracted way, she said, “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that Marissa is just four years younger than her birth mother when she gave birth to her?”

Daniel’s body stiffened. It was as if a page to a fire had sounded, her words zapping through him and setting every nerve on high alert. How to answer that? Was this Kimberly’s sneaky way of worming more information out of him?

“What do you know about her birth mother?” Daniel asked in way of a reply.

“Well...not much,” Kimberly said. “I have a copy of the police report. And when DFCS gave me custody of Marissa, they provided me with their own incident report. Maybe the social worker shouldn’t have, I don’t know, but it gave me the bare outlines of the events. Although...I didn’t know Marissa was actually born at the fire station until you told me.”

Again, Daniel was taken back to that day, to that one peaceful, amazing moment when, amid the chaos, he’d held the baby snugly against his chest, astonished that any mother could willingly let anything that perfect go.

Miriam’s pleas came back to him... She’s not safe, Daniel! She’s not safe! He’ll kill her! I know it!

He had turned out to be the baby’s grandfather—Uriel Hostetler. And though Daniel had at first thought Miriam was overly dramatic, the minute he’d spied Hostetler in the hospital’s waiting room, he had to admit he’d never known anyone to have eyes as cold as the tall, hulking man in broadcloth and suspenders. With a flowing head of golden hair and a full beard to match, he’d resembled nothing so much as a lion on the prowl for a hapless gazelle.

Standing in that waiting room, Hostetler had lorded over the entourage that had accompanied him—over Miriam’s own parents, who seemed henpecked and browbeaten and in no way capable of offering the support and protection Miriam so badly needed.

Hostetler had turned out to be the baby’s grandfather, and the leader—some might say tyrant—over the small Amish community that had relocated here.

Daniel had known lots of people of the Amish and Mennonite faith—good, honest folks who worked hard and showed compassion and mercy in their everyday lives.

Uriel Hostetler? He didn’t deserve to be named in the same class of people.

Kimberly’s next question, not to mention the gentle squeeze to his fingers, brought Daniel back to his present dilemma.

“So? Are you ready to tell me?” she asked. Her eyes were huge and seemingly bottomless, filled with hope and pleading as she gazed up at him. “About Marissa’s birth mother? It’s not idle curiosity, I promise. And you of all people—I mean, you understand how it is to have a child in the family with health issues. I have to know. I have to help Marissa.”

A wrenching pain tore through Daniel’s very soul. It would be so easy to say the two words Kimberly desperately wanted—needed—to hear. They were on the tip of his tongue, a nanosecond, a very exhalation away from being uttered.

Miriam’s face floated through his memory, eyes that had pleaded as much as Kimberly’s. She’d trusted him with the most important secret of her life and her baby’s, and had come to that fire station in need of sanctuary.

“Kimberly...I can’t. Legally. Ethically. I can’t. I am so sorry.”

Her pleading eyes turned stony. She leaped up from the swing as though the seat cushions had suddenly ignited beneath her.

“Ethically? You have the nerve to talk to me about ethics? When my daughter’s health—her life—is at stake?”

He rose and tried to take her hands in his, but she shook him off. “Kimberly, you have to see things from my position. There’s a reason that we have safe-haven laws. It’s to protect the babies. Without a safe haven to turn to, Marissa might not have even been alive if—”

“And she might not stay alive if you don’t help me! Don’t you get that, Daniel? What if someone held back information on, I don’t know...a fire, and how bad it was. Maybe it was started with hazardous materials that could kill your—”

He cut her off midsentence. “I get it. I get why you need to know. But can’t you get why I can’t tell you? Just for two seconds, see it from where I’m standing. I’m bound, Kimberly. Legally. The State of Georgia says I can’t.”

Why did he even try to make her to understand? To approve, even? She was never going to.

Sure enough, Kimberly shook her head in disgust and grimaced. “I think I’d like for you to take us back to our hotel now. No. I know I would.”

With that, she strode across the creaking porch boards and slipped in the house without so much as a backward glance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KIMBERLY RUBBED HER eyes and started over with the pocket calculator. A few keystrokes later and the grim truth emerged. The red-alert figure the calculator had coughed up had not been a mistake. Her checking account really was running on fumes.

Medical bills. And now this trip, which had taken longer and required more money than she’d bargained for. The gas, the rooms, even in a no-frills interstate landing spot, the fast-food meals...

Kimberly allowed herself the luxury of remembering the meal at Daniel’s the night before. Not only had it been free, but it had also been delicious: grilled pork chops done to a turn, homemade baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad and homemade strawberry shortcake. Most of it had come from the family’s farm—she would have paid a fortune for the same meal done at a farm-to-table restaurant in Atlanta.

More than that...it had been the way it was served. Kimberly’s main memory of baked beans was cold out of a can for dinner, liberated with a manual can opener while her mother was out working—or partying. Sometimes it had been hard to tell the difference, really.

“What’s the point of going blind studying? Have fun while you still can, honey bunch,” her mom would tell her, trying to pry her loose from her work. “None of those books will do you good when you get out in the real world. Life’s a grind and then you die.”

How crazy was it that Kimberly had envied the friends who had parents who went nuts over a B on a report card? Or who actually came home and cooked dinner? And when Marissa had dropped into her life like the miracle she was, Kimberly had been determined that the little girl would know stability and routine and dinner on the table every night.

The Monroes, though... She hadn’t known families like that actually existed. They’d laughed and teased and joked...and she could see hints of deeper emotions, too. The care they took with Taylor, the way they looked over each of those kids. And Ma... Oh, Ma, how she ruled over the whole brood with such a gentle but firm spirit.

To have a family like that. To belong.

Because honestly, Kimberly had never felt like she belonged to anybody except for Marissa, and lately, what with all the emotional upheaval, sometimes Marissa didn’t seem to want to belong to her.

Last night had been a beautiful reprieve. She hadn’t even realized how much she had been starved for the rowdy good humor of a large family. But, and now she glanced back down at the LED numbers on her calculator, she couldn’t afford to linger too much longer.

A day longer, maybe two, was really all she could afford. Back in Atlanta, she had bills to pay, and school would be starting soon enough—the first week of August. If she wanted to save money and time enough to make the trek out to Indiana to have Marissa seen by the world-renowned specialist on PAI-1, Kimberly couldn’t waste seventy dollars a night on a hotel room in a town with no real answers.

If only Daniel would tell me what he knows...

She closed the checkbook and pulled out her list of people to talk to. She would start with the police officer listed on the incident report.

Galvanized by the hard look at her finances and priorities, Kimberly called out to a sleeping Marissa, “Hey, sleepyhead! Time to get up, okay? We need to start seeing some folks.”

Kimberly rooted around in her bag. Yes, there it was, the folder with the incident report and the scant information she had about Marissa’s birth. And the responding officer, Timothy Clarke. With any luck, Officer Clarke would still be working for the police department, and maybe he could help her—or at least point in the direction of someone who could.

Which was more than Daniel was willing to do.

Be fair. He’s an honorable man. He doesn’t want to break the law.

But if the spirit of the law had been to protect children, then surely, to help Marissa, bending it would be okay.

“Fifteen more minutes. Please, Mom, please.” Marissa burrowed deeper into the covers. “I. Am. So. Tired.”

“Yeah, well, you played hard yesterday. And we stayed out too late.”

The memory of Daniel beside her on that swing, his hand in hers, the night air soft and velvety around them, suddenly swamped Kimberly. To shake off the unsettling feeling, she needed to get moving. And to get moving, she had to get Marissa vertical. With her free hand, she yanked at the thin coverlet.

With reflexes like a cat, Marissa yanked back. “Mo-om. Lemme stay here, please? I’ll lock the door. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll just sleep. For a month. Or maybe two.”

“No, I am not about to leave you here by yourself in a strange hotel room in a strange city.”

Marissa opened one eye. “Well, okay. Let me go hang out with Taylor. That was fun yesterday. She’s cool.”

Kimberly dropped to the bed, confused. “Marissa, this isn’t a fun-and-games vacation. This is... I thought you wanted to be with me when I talked to these people.”

“Well, of course, I want to know. But I... Can’t you go and tell me about it? You know, later? And I wouldn’t have to, er, actually, be there?”

This last phrase, she uttered in a small voice. Her knuckles were white against the coverlet. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, but Kimberly could see that she wasn’t really sleepy anymore.

No. She was...apprehensive. Yesterday had been tough for Marissa, maybe tougher than even Kimberly had realized. Was she putting her daughter through too much too soon?

If she’d had anybody to leave Marissa with back home, Kimberly would have made this trip alone. But she really didn’t. Most of Marissa’s friends were off at camp or on vacation, and the ones who weren’t... Well, their parents weren’t Kimberly’s pick of the litter. Her own mother? That certainly hadn’t been a possibility.

And Marissa had been okay with the plan, even a little excited. Still...

“I’m sorry, honey. We barely know the Monroes. I can’t invite us out there—”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “They’re practically family, Mom. I mean, Daniel found me. And Taylor wanted me to spend the night last night, or at least come out today.”

“Look, it’s great that you bonded with Taylor—you and she have a lot in common, what with her own health issues—”

“Mom! Not everything is about medical stuff. I like Taylor because she’s funny and cool and they’ve got a pool, which is way more fun than having to follow you around all day while you do your Nancy Drew thing. Me and Taylor, we’re not like a pair of old ladies, trading doctor stories.”

“The answer is no. You know my rule. The mom has to call me. It can’t be something—”

“Kids cook up.” Marissa finished Kimberly’s standard speech on the subject. “Oh, all right, you win! Again!” Then with ill grace she slung herself out of the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

Kimberly sighed and rubbed her temples. Already she could foresee that the day would be a tough one. She knew, from long experience, that Marissa would stew for at least an hour, but then eventually, if she left her alone, her fair-to-partly-cloudy child would come around.

This is for her, Kimberly told herself. It’s not as if I have any other options. And I certainly won’t trouble Daniel Monroe again!

* * *

THE POLICE STATION was smaller than Kimberly had expected, its cramped reception area bare and sterile looking and awash in fluorescent light. At the front desk, glass separated her from a police officer with a phone jammed to his ear and a harassed expression on his face. It seemed that each moment one phone call ended, another button would light up, and the officer would shrug apologetically and take yet another call.

There was nowhere to sit, so Marissa passed the time by leaning against the wall and playing a game on her phone that beeped and pinged. Kimberly tried to rehearse what she’d say if she got the chance to talk to Officer Clarke.

Finally the man on the other side of the glass plunked down the phone and smiled. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Kimberly took a huge breath and started in on her story.

“Wait, wait, you mean Lieutenant Clarke? He oversees our detective division. He’s out on a case now, but I can call him.”

“Yes, that would be great!” Kimberly told him.

“If you were by yourself, I could let you back there to wait for him...but, uh, policy says we can’t allow minors,” the officer told her. He gazed pointedly past Kimberly’s shoulder at Marissa.

Marissa murmured in a singsong voice, “Told you I should have spent the day at Taylor’s.”

Kimberly managed a smile. “Thank you, sir. It won’t be too long, will it? We don’t mind waiting here? Do we, Marissa?”

The officer nodded. “I’ll call now, and then I’ll let you know.”

The wait stretched out. Kimberly shifted from foot to foot, wondering why on earth the police department didn’t spring for chairs in the waiting room.

As she pulled out her cell phone to check the time, it buzzed in her hand. She didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was the local one.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Is this Kimberly? Marissa’s mom?”

“Yes, and this is...?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! This is Ma, honey. Colleen Monroe. We were wondering if Marissa could spend the day with us. She’d mentioned to Taylor that you two would be in town for a few more days.”

“Hmm.” Kimberly shot a look toward Marissa. She had an expression of patient endurance on her face. The earlier sullenness was gone. She seemed engrossed in her game, not even bothering to eavesdrop. “That’s very thoughtful of you—”

“I don’t want to interfere with your time together. I mean, it is your vacation.”

“No, ma’am, it’s not exactly a vacation. It’s—” What had Daniel told his family? Anything? Nothing?

“Then, if it’s business, why not bring her on out? She’s welcome to hang out with us at our pool. Daniel’s sisters are both out of town today, and I’ve got the babies here, but it’s just them, and Taylor’s going stir-crazy not having anyone her own age.”

“I would, but I’m waiting on someone that I hope to meet with, and I can’t leave at the moment.”

“Not a problem. Daniel said he and one of his firefighters needed to pick up some vegetables out here on the farm for the station’s kitchen. If it’s okay with you, I’ll tell him to swing by your hotel and bring Marissa.”

“Er—” At the mention of Daniel’s name, Kimberly’s skin prickled. “We’re not at the hotel. The person I need to meet works at the police station, a Lieutenant Clarke.”

“Timmy? My goodness. Timmy and Daniel go way back—they were in high school together. And they won’t let young people in the back of the station, so it’s just as well that I send Daniel by to pick her up.”

“Oh, that sounds like too much of a bother—”

“No trouble at all. He’ll see you in a jiff.”

And with that, Ma rang off.

Kimberly tossed the phone back in her purse. She must have made some sort of noise because Marissa surfaced from her game.

“What is it, Mom? Something wrong?”

“No, it’s... Ma has invited you out to swim.”

“Cool beans! So I can go?”

“I guess. Don’t let it become a habit, okay? We don’t want to wear out our welcome. Daniel and someone else are supposed to come by and—”

The connecting door to the back of the station swung open. A tall red-haired man with an overwhelming amount of freckles and dressed in khakis and a knit golf shirt smiled at them. “I’m Lieutenant Tim Clarke. I understand you’re waiting on me?”

“Yes! I’m Kimberly—”

The man waved a freckled arm. “Yep. Daniel’s filled me in.”

“Daniel?” Kimberly stared past the lanky redhead to the man behind him.

Lt. Clarke slapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Yep. He said I should help you if I could. Hey, why don’t the two of us grab a cup of coffee at the diner across the street?”

Daniel and the lieutenant came out to join them in the reception area, the door locking shut behind them. Daniel smiled warmly at Marissa, but was it a little forced when he turned to Kimberly?

“Marissa, I’ve got orders from Ma to ferry you out to the farm. Ready to roll? Bobbi’s waiting for us in the truck. You remember her, right?”

And with nothing more than a casual wave goodbye to Kimberly, Marissa trooped out the open door that Daniel held for her.

He must have sensed Kimberly’s momentary panic, because he stopped, gave her a nod and said, “She couldn’t be in better hands. Ma raised six of us to be tax-paying productive citizens, and all in one piece. She’s got this. But you can call anytime—me or Ma—if you’re worried.”

Kimberly drew in a calming breath and reminded herself not to be a complete mess when it came to Marissa. “Thanks, I appreciate you taking her out there and, er, giving Lieutenant Clarke here my bona fides. As for Marissa—” Kimberly even managed a joke “—relax, Daniel. That’s the breeze outside you feel, not my rotor wash.”

He chuckled. “I like that. Gotta go grab these veggies if I’m going to con some of my firefighters to help me cook them and actually eat them.”

With that, he was gone, and suddenly the space reverted back to its bare sterility.

She shook herself to get rid of the empty feeling that washed over her. Well, she wasn’t here for Daniel. She was here on a mission. She was here for Marissa. She turned to the detective. “How about that cup of coffee, Lieutenant?” she asked.

CHAPTER NINE

ON THE WAY across the street, the first thing the detective did was release Kimberly from using his title and last name. “Ma practically raised me, so any friend of Daniel’s is welcome to dispense with the formalities.”

They walked into the diner, and Tim hustled her back to a booth at the end. The waitress immediately brought two cups and a hot carafe of coffee.

“Morning, Tim... Ma’am, Tim here likes his coffee fully leaded and black as night, that okay with you? Or do you want something else?”

“That’s fine,” Kimberly said. “The sugar’s here on the table. Can I have some cream, though?”

“Coming right up.” The waitress glanced Tim’s way. “Same as usual, even though it’s a tad early for lunch?”

“Yep. Eat when you can, that’s my motto. Oh, my usual is the steak, mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of green beans and extra mushrooms. You want that? Or...what else, Vera? Y’all still got breakfast?”

“Actually...” Kimberly remembered that grim encounter with her checkbook balance this morning. She couldn’t afford two breakfasts in one day. “The coffee will be fine.”

A moment later, Vera brought a pitcher of cream to go with the sugar packets Kimberly had waiting by her cup. Tim had begun quaffing down his coffee, seemingly immune to its scalding temperature.

“Daniel said Marissa had some health issues, and you were trying to get the birth mom’s identity?” Tim asked, setting his mug down. “You know I can’t give you that information. State law and all.”

“Right.” Kimberly didn’t look up from stirring her coffee. She wanted to frame her words exactly right. “But what can you tell me? Anything? Can you...can you tell me if anybody was with her? If she told you about any health problems?”

Tim frowned, a line forming on his freckled forehead. “Let’s see...she was by herself. I was the first officer on the scene. I got there as they were loading her into the ambulance. Man, that was a scene! You know she nearly died, right?”

Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat. “No. How?”

“Some sort of hemorrhage. They didn’t catch it at first, but they couldn’t stop the bleeding. I know I closed out my case after my boss told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender and the birth mother was flown out to Macon—that’s the nearest trauma center.”

Kimberly placed her coffee mug down on the laminate to hide the way her fingers trembled. Finally, a clue about Marissa’s family medical history. Hemorrhaging during childbirth could have been caused by PAI-1 deficiency, or any number of possibilities. “But she survived?”

Tim blinked. He sagged back into the booth. “That’s—that’s something I don’t know. I guess I assumed she did. I mean, I know she made it to Macon. But honestly, I couldn’t tell you. She had no charges pending against her once my superiors told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender.” He grinned and ducked his head. “We, um, were more interested in how the baby was doing, to be truthful. Man, it’s amazing how that baby’s all grown-up now.”

Kimberly fought back conflicting emotions: fear that her assumption all this time that Marissa’s birth mother was still alive and could give them the answers they needed was wrong; the familiar frustration that finding her wasn’t as easy as a quick check of the records; and a surge of appreciation that, even before she’d come into Marissa’s life, her daughter had people looking out for her.

Someone, somewhere, knows something. And if I can’t talk to the birth mom, I could track down her parents or the birth father or even his parents.