“Are you always this relentless?”

“On occasion I’ve been considered determined,” Shane admitted. “I just feel bad about what happened.”

“Well, don’t. It won’t change anything.” She hopped out of the SUV and leaned back in when Shane and Jason stayed put. “Are you two coming in?”

“In a while. We’ll walk around here first. Visit the playground.”

Whitney grinned at the child and walked toward the main entrance. Once there, she peered back at the SUV. She glimpsed Shane’s attention directed at her, and a shiver of awareness shimmied down her back. He was an attractive man, but their worlds were vastly different. She’d promised herself she was going to start over, make something of herself. Finally get her plans in place. And they certainly didn’t include getting involved with a man. Especially not Shane…

MARGARET DALEY

feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and participated in many sports with her students.

Second Chance Family
Margaret Daley

For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

—Matthew 6:14–15

To my husband, Mike, who I love dearly

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Chapter One

“This is not negotiable. My son will attend your school, starting this Thursday.” After dealing with a suicidal teenage girl most of the night, Dr. Shane McCoy didn’t need this.

“We aren’t equipped to deal with him. Jason should go to Eisenhower Elementary where there’s a class for children like him,” the principal said in a tight, highly controlled voice.

The woman’s last sentence shredded what composure he had. Pacing his bedroom, Shane plowed his fingers through his hair and tried to remain calm. He gripped the phone. “You’ve known he would attend for months.”

The rumble of thunder in the distance drew him toward an upstairs window at the front of his house. Jason didn’t do well in thunderstorms. Please, Lord, don’t let it rain—not today. He drew back the drapes and searched the sky. Dark clouds raced toward the east, away from his house.

“We’ve tried to find the right staff to handle your son, but…” The woman paused, taking a deep breath.

Jason appeared on the sidewalk leading from his house. What was he doing out front? Going to get the newspaper for Aunt Louise?

“But there aren’t—” the woman continued on the other line.

When his son ignored the paper lying in the grass, concern shot through Shane. He hurried toward his door. “I’ll be there for the meeting this afternoon. I’ve got to go,” he said, and clicked off the cell phone.

Am I making a mistake?

As the question intruded into Whitney Maxwell’s mind, her long hair whipped across her face, momentarily obstructing her view of the street she drove down.

“Jason! Stop!”

To the right of her someone’s frantic tone pierced the early morning air. Whitney fought the wayward strand, finally managing to hook it behind her ear at the same time her gaze riveted to a sudden movement. A child disappeared between two parked vehicles ahead of her, a second later reappearing in the path of her car as he raced across the road.

Clenching the steering wheel of her convertible Volkswagen vehicle, she jerked to full attention and slammed on the brakes. Not soon enough.

Without thought Whitney swerved her VW to the right. Into a big SUV. The sound of crunching metal drowned out the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears. When she was thrown forward, her seat belt halted her progress. The strap cut into her chest, disrupting her shallow breaths.

Almost to the other side of the street near a yellow trash can, the little boy stopped, pivoted and came straight toward her. When he reached the crash, he slid his hand over the smashed hood of her car, his gaze glued to it.

“Jason! Jason!” the woman screamed, her view blocked by the big SUV.

The little boy looked up, cocked his head, then whirled around and ran back the way he came—straight into the arms of the older woman who rushed between the parked vehicles. Whitney stared into the lady’s pale face as she quaked and hugged the child to her.

Everything happened so fast—only seconds—that Whitney’s head spun. Her hands shaking, she fumbled for the handle. She shoved the door open, swung her legs to the pavement and stood.

The thought of the near miss shuddered through her. Her legs weak, she started to sink and clutched the car to steady herself. She needed to check on the little boy and the older woman, but her whole body quaked. Drawing in several stabilizing breaths, she made her way to the pair now on the grass between the sidewalk and the street.

The older woman, tears in her eyes, held the child away from her. “Jason, you cannot run out into the street.”

“Like yellow.”

Yellow? What’s the child talking about?

“Wanted to touch. So pretty.”

Whitney glanced toward the trash can then at her yellow Volkswagen car. Her steps faltered at the implication of what could have happened. Thankfully she’d only been going twenty-five miles per hour because the child had been oblivious to the danger involved, and yet he appeared to be at least six or seven years old.

The sounds of a slamming door and pounding footsteps nearby drew Whitney’s focus toward the house in front of her. A large man, over six feet tall, jogged across the lawn toward them. His intense gaze first took in the child and woman, then slipped to Whitney hovering a few feet from the pair. It skimmed down her length before moving away. When his appraisal connected with her Volkswagen bug, a frown carved hard lines into his face.

“Aunt Louise, what happened?”

“Jason—” the older woman whimpered the name, tears streaking down her face as she clung to the child. “He—he…”

After patting the woman and whispering, “It’s okay. I’ll deal with this,” the man fixed his gaze on Whitney and strode toward her. “What happened?”

His question frosted the air between them. She straightened, her hands clenched at her sides. “The little boy ran out into the street from between these two parked cars.” She gestured toward the vehicles. “I had to swerve to avoid hitting him.”

His color drained from his face. He glanced over his shoulder at the boy and the older woman. The child tried to pull from her embrace, his arm outstretched toward Whitney’s VW.

“Aunt Louise, can you take Jason inside? I’ll be there in a minute.” When the pair was on the porch, the man turned back to Whitney. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” His cultured voice held a smooth, calmer tone, meant to put a person at ease. Concern—directed totally toward her—darkened his green eyes.

“Better than my car.” She flipped her quivering hand toward her convertible. “I ran into someone’s SUV. I—”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s mine. Cars can be fixed much easier than people.” He walked toward the back of his vehicle and examined the damage. When he looked at hers, he whistled. “Yours will be more involved.”

“Yeah. It’s sorta like a beetle slamming into a wall.” Where was she going to get the money to pay for this? Even if the man could take care of his SUV, her car repairs would cost a lot and with a five-hundred-dollar deductible—money she didn’t have—she had no answer. She would not accept any more help from her older brother. She’d always managed to make her way in the world by herself. She wasn’t going to let this change that. She would figure out something.

After rounding the back of her vehicle and inspecting the crash from all angles, the man came back to her side. “I see what you mean. I’ll take care of your car.”

“No, I crashed into your SUV.”

“But if you hadn’t reacted quickly, my son would have been hit. I owe you. I’ll take care of it.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake. “Shane McCoy.”

“I’m Whitney Maxwell.” His warm, firm clasp conveyed a man who took charge of situations and solved problems. Her defenses quickly went up.

“Noah’s sister?”

“Yes, you know my brother?”

“I’ve been working with Stone’s Refuge ever since it began. And since he’s on its board, we’ve gotten to know each other these past few years.”

Now that she was thinking somewhat rationally, she remembered Noah talking about a Dr. McCoy seeing some of the kids who lived at Stone’s Refuge, a place for foster children who needed help. “You’re the child psychologist.” Then she recalled her brother mentioning how much Dr. McCoy had helped his adopted son. “The one who worked with Rusty.”

“Your brother was the best thing that happened to Rusty.”

“I think my nephew would agree. Noah’s taken to being a dad.” Although she had discovered she loved children since returning to Cimarron City, she never saw herself as a mother. She never wanted to disappoint a child like she had been.

“Come in and I’ll call a wrecker to take your car to a shop I know that does excellent work for a fair price.”

Shane McCoy had everything figured out. She fortified her defenses. “I’ll drive my car to school and come up with something.”

He shook his head. “That car isn’t going anywhere without a wrecker.”

Whitney did her own examination of her VW and noticed the front hood was crumpled into her right tire. He was correct. Although the school was about two miles away, maybe she could walk and still make it on time. She glanced down at her watch and winced. That wasn’t an option if she wanted to be on time or at least only a few minutes late.

“You mentioned driving to school—the university?”

“No, Will Rogers Elementary School.”

“You’re a teacher there?”

“A teacher’s assistant.” If all her plans worked out, she would be a teacher in three years.

“My son starts kindergarten there on Thursday. We’ve been marking off the days until school starts. So since I was going there this morning anyway to show Jason around before the meeting there this afternoon, I can take you. That’s the least I can do.”

She looked down at the damaged hood. “Fine, but I need to call a wrecker then the school to let them know I’ll be a few minutes late.” She hated being late her first day on the job, but there was just so much help she would accept from Shane McCoy.

“Are you sure I can’t arrange for a wrecker to take your car to Carl’s Body Shop?”

“I’m sure.” If she had been paying better attention instead of looking for Zoey Crandell’s house, maybe she would have seen the child racing across the lawn toward the street. But ever since she’d made the decision to move out of her brother’s guesthouse, her attention had been focused on finding an apartment, and Zoey’s sounded perfect for her.

“You can call inside while I prepare Jason to leave now.”

“Prepare?” slipped out before Whitney could stop it. Jason didn’t act like a normal kindergartner. What was wrong with him?

“It won’t take long. I just have to prepare my son for something a little different. He already knew he was going to the school today.” Shane started for the large Victorian house, stopped and said, “My aunt makes a great cup of coffee. Would you like some?”

“That sounds good.” Whitney reached into her VW and grabbed her purse and the classified section of the newspaper she’d brought with her. Peering at a circled ad, she noted the address she’d been searching for and the reason she was on this particular street. “Do you know Zoey Crandell?” she called out to Shane.

He paused a few steps away from her and swung back around. “Yes, she lives at the end of this block.” He pointed toward another Victorian house five away from his on the other side of the street.

Whitney noticed he wore a wedding ring and wondered where his wife was since it wasn’t much after seven. “I wanted to get a peek at the garage apartment she had advertised for rent,” she said when she saw the question in his eyes.

“That’s right. She does rent that out. I didn’t realize her tenant left.”

“Have you ever seen it?”

“No, but she’s a good neighbor. She goes to my church.” Shane started again for his front door.

As Whitney ambled toward the house, she thought about the little boy she’d almost hit. Her earlier question crept again into her mind. Was she making a mistake? Maybe her wanting to be a teacher wasn’t what she should do with her life. Before coming back to Cimarron City nine months ago, she would never have dreamed of becoming a teacher and not all children were like her niece and nephews. Ones like Jason would be a challenge. Could she deal with that?

She couldn’t get the image out of her mind of the child coming out between the parked vehicles so suddenly, then after she had crashed, walking over to her car and touching it. In her education classes she took at night at the university, she hadn’t had the Exceptional Child course yet, but it was obvious something wasn’t right with Shane McCoy’s son.

But wasn’t that why she had decided to be a teacher’s assistant? To see if she could handle the job?

Inside his house Shane immediately headed toward the kitchen, which flowed into a den. Whitney followed. His son sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television, watching Animal Planet and rocking back and forth, while he clutched a yellow cloth.

“Aunt Louise, this is Whitney Maxwell, Noah’s sister. I’m going to drive her to Will Rogers Elementary School where she works.”

His aunt smiled at Whitney then turned to Shane and said, “Are you taking Jason?”

“Yeah, since later this afternoon I have that meeting at the school and I don’t know how long it will last.” He handed Whitney a cordless phone and the telephone book.

While she placed a call to a wrecker service and the school, he poured coffee into a mug sitting on the counter then took a new one down from a cabinet and filled it for Whitney. He handed it to her as she wrapped up her second call.

After taking a large sip of the brew, Shane strode toward the den area and knelt next to his son. He placed his hand on the boy’s arm before he said his name. Pressing a yellow cloth to his chest, Jason slowly looked up at his dad. Shane’s lowered voice didn’t carry to Whitney.

“He has the patience of Job.”

Surprised by the comment, Whitney turned on her heel and faced the older woman, slim, medium height, her gray hair pulled back in a bun at the base of her head. “Shane?” She picked up her mug and drew in a deep breath of the coffee-laced air.

“Yes. It’s been hard since his wife died.”

“Oh, she died recently?” Whitney asked, remembering the ring on his hand.

“Five years ago so he’s been mostly the one responsible for raising Jason. He does a wonderful job with his son. If anyone can prepare Jason for a change, it’s my nephew.”

What happens if you don’t prepare Jason? Whitney wanted to ask the question, but it was a private affair, and if anyone understood the need for privacy, it was she. That thought prompted a decision to call Zoey Crandell and set up an appointment this week to see the apartment because at Noah’s estate—as large as it was—she never had much alone time.

Louise released a deep sigh. When she brushed back a stray strand of hair, her hand shook. “I’m not nearly as good as Shane, hence the runaway this morning. Jason didn’t like the breakfast I fixed him. We’d run out of his favorite cereal so I made him pancakes, his second favorite. I don’t move as fast as I once did. He was out the front door before I could stop him. I’m so sorry for what happened. Are you all right?”

The concern in the woman’s brown eyes reflected the same concern as her nephew’s earlier. Although her chest hurt where the strap wrenched her to a stop, she wouldn’t add to this woman’s worry. “I’m fine,” she hurriedly said to reassure Louise who was still visibly upset even if she was trying to present a calm front.

“I’m so glad of that. Thankfully Jason’s favorite program was on, and he didn’t object to coming back inside. That gave me some time to settle my nerves.”

“I understand he’s starting kindergarten on Thursday at the school where I work.” Whitney took a swig of coffee, its taste smooth and rich like Shane’s voice.

Louise’s eyebrows crunched together. “Before this year, he went to a private special school, but Shane feels he needs more exposure with regular children. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“What’s wrong with Jason?” The second she asked the question she wanted to take it back. It wasn’t her business, and she normally stayed out of others’ affairs and problems. She had enough of her own to deal with.

“He’s autistic.”

Whitney’s gaze flew back to the pair on the floor in front of the television. She didn’t know much about autism, but she knew it could be very challenging for teachers and parents. Again the niggling doubt surfaced.

“We’re ready to go. When is the wrecker going to be here?” Shane asked as he approached her.

“Half an hour. I’ve given the man all the information. If I leave, will my car be okay until the wrecker comes?”

Aunt Louise stepped forward. “I’ll keep an eye out for the wrecker. This street doesn’t have much traffic.” She splayed her hand over her heart. “I thank the Lord every day for that fact. Don’t worry about your car. It’s off to the side, and if someone wants to get by, they can.”

Whitney nodded. “Thanks.” She was already late for her first day and didn’t want to make it worse.

Jason stood behind his father, and when he glanced up and really saw her, he flew at Whitney. Surprised, she stepped back.

The boy opened and closed his hand as though he wanted something. “Yellow hair. Touch.”

“Jason, you can’t—”

“That’s okay,” Whitney said, interrupting Shane.

She knelt in front of the child and smiled. He didn’t look at her face but fixed upon her hair, stroking its long strands over and over.

“Pretty.”

Whitney caught sight of Shane hovering close beside his son. Worry had returned to his expression, his eyebrows coming together, lines wrinkling his forehead. She started to rise when the child grabbed a fistful of her hair but didn’t pull it.

Shane shifted forward to intervene. “Sorry. His favorite color right now is yellow.” He touched his son’s shoulder and moved to where he was in the boy’s line of vision. “Jason, are you ready to go for a ride? You can touch the yellow car one more time before we leave to go to school. But this time you will have to walk with me in order to touch the car. You are never to run in the street by yourself.”

“Yellow car.”

“But first, Jason, you need to let go of Whitney’s hair.”

“Touch yellow car.” The child released his grip and her strands fell back into place.

Whitney quickly rose while Jason took his father’s hand, tugging him toward the front door.

Shane threw a sheepish look at her. “I guess he’s ready to go.”

After Jason took a few moments to pat and stroke her yellow car, she found herself sitting in the front seat of the SUV while Shane buckled his son in the back one. Jason rubbed a yellow cloth between his forefinger and thumb and stared at the floor. He seemed unaware of what his father was doing.

Shane switched on the engine and peered at her. “I want to at least pay for the damages to your car.”

“My insurance will take care of it.”

“Not your deductible. I’ll take care of that. How much is it?”

Whitney hesitated. She wasn’t quite sure how to take Shane. She realized she’d veered to avoid hitting his son, but she had crashed into his SUV.

“Please, Whitney. The situation could have been so much worse if you…” He snapped his mouth closed, a nerve twitching in his jaw. “Let’s just say I’m grateful you’re a quick thinker.”

“Five hundred dollars.”

He blew out a long breath, throwing his SUV into Drive and pulling away from the curb. “Thanks. I appreciate you letting me do this.” He slanted her a look. “I’ll also pay for a car rental. You can’t go without a means of transportation.”

She hadn’t even thought about that. Shane had a way of covering all the bases, which made her squeeze her hands together in her lap. “I’ll take care of it.” Embedding strength into each word, she was determined to make it clear she didn’t like accepting help like he was throwing at her. She didn’t want to be beholden to anyone, and she already had allowed her older brother to do too much for her. That had to end.

Thankfully he must have gotten the message because he didn’t say anything else. She relaxed back and uncurled her hands.

When they passed Zoey Crandell’s house, she looked down the driveway at the two-car garage with an apartment over it. The well-groomed yard with neatly tended flower beds and two maples standing sentinel out front appealed to Whitney. She peered back at the quiet street, shaded with large trees. She liked the area.

Ten minutes later, Shane parked in the oval lot in the center of the elementary school campus. “Are you sure I can’t do anything else?”

“Yes,” she said, then shook her head. “Are you always this relentless?”

“On occasion I’ve been considered determined. I just feel bad about what happened.”

“Well, don’t. It won’t change anything.” She hopped out of the SUV and leaned back in when Shane and Jason stayed put. “Are you two coming in?”

“In a while. We’ll walk around out here first. Visit the playground.”

Whitney grinned at the child. “Jason, I’ll see you later.”

The little boy ignored her and continued to rub his cloth, his gaze fastened onto the back of the seat in front of him.

After a half minute of silence, she swept her glance to Shane. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Let me know when you need the money for the deductible.”

“Sure. I’ll know more after I talk with my insurance agent and the body shop.” Quickly she shut the car door and hurried toward the primary building.

At the main entrance she peered back at the SUV. She glimpsed Shane’s attention directed at her, and a shiver of awareness shimmied down her length. He was an attractive man, but their worlds were vastly different. Besides, when she’d come back to Cimarron City nine months ago, she had promised herself she was going to start over, make something out of herself. Finally her plans were in place. And they certainly didn’t include getting involved with a man.

Chapter Two

“Thanks for showing me the ropes around here, Amanda.” Whitney stood and stretched her muscles, which had cramped from her sitting on the floor while she labeled cubicles and supplies. Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. “I hope they can get the air-conditioning fixed by the time school starts in a few days.”

“I was hoping it would rain today and cool things off, but it passed us by.” Dressed in a turtleneck shirt and jeans, Amanda Miller, another teacher’s assistant, gathered up the labeling machine and markers they used.

“I can imagine. I would have roasted in what you’re wearing.” Thankful she had on a split skirt and a short-sleeve blouse, Whitney didn’t know why the young woman hadn’t gone home at lunch and changed. Whitney knew from their conversation earlier that Amanda only lived a few blocks away from the school with her boyfriend.

“I’m always cold,” Amanda said, but her armpits were drenched with perspiration. Still sitting, she turned away to put the pens in a box.

“Oh, there’s…” Whitney reached toward Amanda to snatch up a marker on the floor next to the young woman that Whitney had missed while cleaning up.

The redhead flinched when she shifted back around and glimpsed Whitney out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed the black pen and gave it to Amanda. The woman’s hand quivered as she took the marker.

Strange, Whitney thought. She’d remembered right before lunch, when another teacher’s assistant had popped into the room they were working in, her sudden appearance had startled Amanda and she’d shaken even more right after that.

“I’m glad it’s time to leave. All I’d like to do is soak in a hot tub, but when I get home, I have too much to do.” Whitney put the labeling machine on the teacher’s desk. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I still have housework to do and to fix dinner.” Amanda pushed to her feet.

“A frozen meal is about all the energy I have to make tonight. See you tomorrow.”

Exhausted after her first day on the job of meetings and helping prepare the classroom for the children, Whitney gathered her purse, then headed toward the front doors. Coming around the corner, she nearly collided with Shane leaving an office near the main entrance. He smiled, but beneath the grin she glimpsed weariness.

“Tough meeting?” she asked, remembering he said that morning he had one at the school in the afternoon.

“A long one, but I think we worked everything out for Jason to begin school this week.”

“Good.” She started forward.

Shane fell into step beside her. “How was your day?”

“Long.”

“And starting with a wreck probably wasn’t the best way to begin it.”

She chuckled. “You think?” She’d called about the bus schedule and found one stopped not too far from the school so she would have a means of transportation to and from work until her car was fixed.

Whitney exited the building into the hot August day. Not a breeze stirred. Perspiration ran in rivulets down her face. She wiped her hand across her forehead then cheeks.

“Can I give you a ride anywhere?”

She glanced from the bus stop to Shane’s SUV. With the suffocating one-hundred-degree weather, she decided to be practical. “Sure. Thanks. I’m going to Noah’s.”

She slid into the passenger seat. At odd times during the day she’d thought about Dr. Shane McCoy, patiently working to help his son understand or reassuring her he’d take care of everything. But mostly she had remembered the concern in his green eyes that sparked something she’d been sure she had buried years ago. Living on the streets as a teenager had quickly persuaded her not to trust anyone and to do everything herself. She’d compromised some while living at her brother’s estate, but she was going to change that when she moved out. Compromising meant giving up part of herself, and she didn’t intend to do that ever again.

“Was everything all right when you arrived late?” Shane asked as he pulled out of the parking space.

“Yeah. Did you ever get Jason into the building?” She’d never been comfortable with chitchat, but with Noah’s large family she’d had to learn quickly, especially with Lindsay, the only girl, following her around.

Disappointment glinted in his eyes. He shook his head. “On the bright side, Jason seemed to like the playground. He loved the yellow-seated swing and tunnels to crawl through. I had a hard time getting him to leave.”

“So he hasn’t seen his classroom?”

“No, maybe tomorrow.”

“What will you do if he won’t go in?”

“I’ll take it one step at a time. With Jason that’s all I can do. He’s my son.”

The love that filled his words made her study his profile presented to her as he drove toward her brother’s estate. Strong. Steady. Full of compassion. Those traits had come to mind when she’d thought about Dr. Shane McCoy. Nothing like her own father. She pushed thoughts of that man from her mind; she tried not to go there.

“But still it must be hard.” She found herself wanting to know what made someone like Shane tick. The men she had known had been people users, thinking only of themselves. Except Noah and his two foster brothers, Peter and Jacob. They were different. But weren’t they the exception, not the rule? Certainly from her experience they were.

Shane didn’t say anything for a good minute while he parked the SUV at the side of Noah’s house. Then he turned to her with a smile deep in his eyes, the color of a lush patch of grass on a spring day. “The challenges of life are what make it interesting. I was blessed the day the Lord gave me Jason. He has made me a better person, and yes, it can be hard at times, but it makes me appreciate each step forward.”

“So you’re one of those people. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.”

He chuckled. “I guess I am. I like lemonade.”

Well, she didn’t. She wanted something better than constantly struggling. Although she’d fought the decision to come to Cimarron City last November, to be involved in Noah’s family, it had been a good one for her at the time. She needed to start fresh and do something with her life. And her brother’s children had caused a dream from childhood to resurface. She wanted to be a teacher and would be one day.

“How long will it take for your car to be fixed?” Shane asked.

“I should have it by the end of the week.”

“How are you going to get to—”

She held up her hand to stop his question. “I’ve got it figured out. The bus runs between here and the school. It’s a pretty direct route.”

He frowned. “How direct?”

“I only have to walk a few blocks. No big deal.”

“In this heat? It’s eighty at seven in the morning and over one hundred in the afternoon. I can give—”

“Don’t. I’m a tough cookie. I can’t let a wreck stop me.” She sent him a grin that he immediately responded to.

“Okay. Okay, I give up. I won’t say another word. I think I’ve met my match in you.”

Her grin grew as she opened the door, the searing heat invading the car’s cool interior. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks again for the ride.”

Under the shade of a large oak near the guesthouse, she watched him turn around and head toward the gate that automatically opened at his approach. She could see why the children he counseled responded to him. His caring nature shone through even when dealing with a situation like that morning.

And he’s easy on the eyes. His supple movements reminded her of a person who worked out. His large frame—muscular without an ounce of fat—confirmed that impression. The only thing unruly about him was his medium-length, coal-black hair that curled at his nape.

Perfect. That sent her alarms off. What was wrong with him? What was he hiding? Because her experience told her there was always something that would rear its ugly head and throw her for a loop.

Even in the shade, the heat drove Whitney toward the guesthouse as soon as Shane’s SUV disappeared from view. With coursework to get through and volunteering at Stone’s Refuge this evening, she hoped she could sneak inside before one of the children, Noah or his wife, Cara, saw her and wanted her to recount her first day on the job.

Halfway across the yard, she heard a deep baritone voice call her name. She kept going. She knew what her brother wanted to talk about, and she wasn’t ready to have that argument.

Escaping into the coolness of the guesthouse where she presently lived, she tossed her purse on the couch along with the section of the newspaper she’d taken to work. She hadn’t gotten a chance to call Zoey Crandell; she needed to now before someone rented the place. After snatching the paper off the couch, she noted the number and picked up the receiver. As she punched in a five, a knock sounded at her door. She continued entering the phone number, hoping her brother would go away.

“You can’t hide from this discussion, Whitney.”

Noah’s deep, commanding voice penetrated her haven. She sighed, hung up and crossed the room to open the door. “How about postponing it until I can string several words together to counter your arguments?”

“And give you the advantage?” He came inside. “Why are you looking for an apartment?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’d say it’s about time. I should have gotten one seven or eight months ago.” The previous November she’d come here from Dallas after quitting a dead-end job and leaving a man she’d been dating casually who had made the mistake of striking her. She wouldn’t fall into that again. Ever. Instead, she’d taken her brother up on his invitation to spend the holidays with him and his family. And by the time the New Year had rolled around, she’d fallen in love with Noah’s children, and for the first time in twenty years she had really been part of a family.

“But I just found you. Why are you leaving? The kids love having you here and so does Cara. Don’t you want to be here to see your new nephew grow up? Taylor’s only three months old.”

“I’m not leaving Cimarron City. I’ll be around, but on my terms.” When she’d first come, she had intended to leave and move on to someplace where she could get lost in a crowd. She hadn’t reckoned with the lure of Noah and his family.

“Why? You have family now. People who care about you.”

“You, of all people, know I’m used to being on my own.” She relaxed her arms, letting the tension slip from her shoulders. It took too much energy to have this conversation. “This isn’t up for discussion anymore. I’ve let you persuade me to stick around just a little longer many times. And now I’ve been living in your guesthouse nine months.”

“Why waste your hard-earned money on rent?”

Whitney blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll still be around and if you need a babysitter, I hope you’ll ask me first. Coming back to Cimarron City, getting to know you and your family has changed so much for me, but I’m losing myself here. I’ve got to figure out who I am.”

Noah frowned. “I guess I can’t fault you for that. I know what it’s like to grapple with yourself. For years I thought I wanted a certain lifestyle, but Cara convinced me that wasn’t the case.”

“Thank goodness she did. You’re great as a father. Nothing like the one we had. Any child would be lucky to have you as a dad.” She couldn’t keep the wistful tone from her voice and wasn’t surprised by it. She had never had loving parents—not even with the adoption situation she’d ended up in. At sixteen, Noah had had the Hendersons to show him the way; by the time she was sixteen she’d been living on the streets for six months.

“I’d better be. I have five children to take care of.” Noah started for the door. “I’ll let you rest. Isn’t tonight one of the evenings you go to Stone’s Refuge?”

“Yeah, I’ll hitch a ride with Adam. He owes me.” Sometimes Noah’s oldest adopted child rode with her.

“Hitch a ride? What about your car?”

“I was in a wreck this morning. It had to be towed to a garage to be fixed.”

Noah’s mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you call? Say anything before now?”

“Why should I? I took care of everything.”

“But—but we’re family. We care. Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine. A little sore, but nothing I can’t handle. Actually you know the owner of the vehicle I hit. Well, I didn’t exactly hit him while he was in it. His car was parked in front of his house.”

“Who?”

“Shane McCoy.”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “How did you hit his parked car?”

“To avoid hitting his son who had run into the street.”

“Ah, Jason. Shane has his hands full.” Noah put his hand on the doorknob. “You can use one of our cars if you need to.”

“I have everything worked out.”

Noah grumbled about her determination and opened the door. “We’re eating at six. Coming up to the main house for dinner?”

“No, I’m gonna grab a sandwich before heading over to the refuge with Adam. I have homework after that.”

“It’s okay to accept help, Whitney. We all need it from time to time.”

When her brother left, Whitney plopped down in the chair at the kitchen table to call Zoey Crandell. She didn’t want to live in an apartment complex with tons of people, so she hoped this place would work out for her.

Her cat came out of the bedroom and leaped into her lap, purring. “Calico, what am I gonna do about my brother?” Her pet settled down while she stroked the animal’s back. “I already owe him too much. Being here has made me realize my life has to change. Now I have to figure out exactly what I want without him doing everything for me.”

Again resolved to make that call about the garage apartment, she was halfway through entering the number when another knock interrupted her. By the sound of it she was sure it was Lindsay.

“Come in,” Whitney called out, again hanging up the phone.

The little girl who Cara and Noah adopted along with her two older brothers swung the door open wide. Calico stirred, peered at the seven-year-old and hopped down to greet her before finding a spot in the windowsill to peer out.

Dressed in her bathing suit, Lindsay hugged a towel to her chest. “Will ya watch me swim?”

Whitney glanced at her clock on the stove. “I can for a while.”

Lindsay beamed. “I can always count on you.”

“First, I have a call to make.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No.” Whitney picked up the phone and finally placed her call to Zoey Crandell, setting up a time to see the apartment.

“Are you leaving here?” Lindsay screwed her face into a pout.

Whitney hung up the receiver. “Yes, but I won’t be too far away. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“You’ll come and watch me swim?”

“Of course.” When Whitney neared the child, Lindsay grabbed her hand and tugged her outside. “Hold it. What’s the rush? We do have some time.”

“I’ve gotta practice my swimming. I want to be the best.”

At the pool behind the main house, Whitney sat on the edge, adjusting her split skirt so she could stick her legs into the water without it getting wet. She relished the feel of the coolness on her tired, aching feet.

After the little girl swam a few laps, trying out various strokes, she came to the side where Whitney perched and clung to the tile lip. “Now that I’m a Maxwell, I’ve been thinking I should call you Aunt Whitney. May I?”

The question stunned Whitney. She had never expected to have nieces and nephews—until she’d come to Cimarron City. She’d always thought of herself going through life alone. Emotions jammed her throat. She never cried, not since she’d been separated from Noah as a child, and yet the tears swelled up from the depths of her being.

“Whitney?”

The child’s expression, full of worry, forced Whitney to say something and yet she wasn’t sure her voice would work. She peered away, staring at the gazebo near the pond. A tear slipped down her face. She swiped it away.

Clearing her throat, she finally said, “I’d love for you to.”

Lindsay pulled herself out of the pool and flung herself into Whitney’s arms. “You’re the bestest aunt. I love you.”

The scent of chlorine peppered the air. That must be why another tear coursed down her cheek. She kissed the top of Lindsay’s wet hair, swallowing hard. “I love you, too, Lindsay.” What would it be like to have her own child?

That question nibbled at her mind, but she determinedly shoved it away. Instead, she cherished this moment because this would be the closest she would come to having a family and children. She would have to content herself with her niece and nephews because she would never have a child of her own who would depend on her.

At work two days later, Whitney hung up the phone after talking with a man at the garage where her car was being fixed. Turning away from the counter at the main entrance into the building, she spied Shane trying to coax Jason inside. School started the next day, and it didn’t look as if things were going well with Jason adjusting to a new situation. Yesterday she didn’t think the child had come into the building, either.

Before she realized it, her legs carried her toward the double doors and outside. “Hi, Shane. Jason.”

Her words disrupted the boy’s whine. When he stopped yanking on his father’s arm to get him to leave, he quit shaking his head and stared at her. Then suddenly he launched himself at her.

She stood her ground.

“Pretty yellow hair.”

Whitney bent toward Jason, the movement of dropping her head slightly intensified the ache in her neck caused by the accident a few days ago. She would curl up with the heating pad again that evening when she got home from seeing the apartment. She intended to grab the garage apartment at Zoey Crandell’s and move in as soon as possible, hopefully this weekend.

“What’s going on, Jason? Have you checked out your new classroom yet?”

The child focused on her ponytail, which had fallen forward.

“Not yet. I was hoping today,” Shane said while his son remained silent but continued to touch her hair. “Is that okay?” He gestured toward what Jason was doing.

“Fine.” After a minute, she straightened, holding her hand out to the child. She’d made a point the day before to see who would be Jason’s teacher. “I can show you to your classroom. I know they have a yellow ball in there.” Jason’s face started to screw up into a scowl until she mentioned the toy.

“Yellow ball!” He dragged her toward the door into the building.

“I guess we’re going inside,” she said over her shoulder as Shane followed them into the lobby.

She guided the pair down the first long hallway on the right and stopped at the second room. Jason came to a halt when he saw his teacher a few feet from him, tacking up a poster by the door. Suddenly he hid his face against Shane.

“Mrs. Bradley, this is Jason and his father, Shane McCoy. Jason was interested in seeing your yellow ball.”

The older teacher approached them with a neutral expression. She shook Shane’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again. I see you were able to get Jason inside.”

“Not me. Whitney did.”

That she had awed Whitney. When she had decided to go for her degree in elementary education, she’d never dreamed of dealing with children who had special needs like Jason. Only in the past few months with her interaction with Noah’s four adopted children, coupled with her volunteer work at Stone’s Refuge, had she realized she wanted to work with kids. But a child with special needs? For years she’d been drifting from one job to the next—just trying to make a living and staying off the streets.

“Yellow ball?” Jason asked, his words muffled against his father.

“Oh, that. Jason, it’s over in the corner.” Mrs. Bradley pointed to the left.

The child peeked around his father, saw it and tore across the room to stroke it.

The teacher faced Shane. “I still have my reservations about this working. We just aren’t equipped for a child like Jason here at this school. He should be in a self-contained special education class like at Eisenhower Elementary School.”

“I insist on trying this. We won’t know until we do. I signed the paperwork for him to be in special education, but I want him involved with all kinds of children. We’re working on socialization at home and with his therapist. I’ll keep you informed of things that develop at home, and I want you to keep me informed about what’s going on here.” A firm resolve underscored each of Shane’s words.

Although Whitney faced Jason playing with the ball, her attention focused on the exchange between Shane and the teacher. Just the few times she’d been around the boy, Whitney couldn’t imagine what it was like to deal with a child with Jason’s obvious limitations. And yet, Shane did it with love and patience. How was Jason going to fit into a normal kindergarten class, especially with a teacher who was less than enthusiastic?

“I have a meeting to attend. You and your son may stay for a while and get familiar with the classroom if you wish.” Mrs. Bradley slipped off a smock she wore to protect her clothes while cleaning.

After the teacher left, Shane turned to Whitney. “Thanks for helping earlier. I’d about run out of ideas on how to get Jason into the building. You saved the day.”

Her first instinct was to scoff at his compliment. In the past people only gave them to get something from her. Then she remembered Lindsay telling her she was the best aunt a few days ago. Noah and his family were chipping away at all her defenses she’d learned to use over the years.

“You’re welcome,” she managed to say after a long pause. She took a step back, not sure what to do with her changing attitude. “I’d better get back to the office. I was unpacking some new supplies.”

“I was going to call you,” Shane said as she turned to leave.

She stopped and glanced back at him.

“Remember I need to pay the deductible. When will your car be ready to pick up?”

“Friday afternoon.”

“I can pick you up at school, take you to the garage and pay my part.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble. Just write a check to Premier Body Shop and I’ll give it to them.”

Shane’s gaze riveted to hers. “If that’s the way you want it.” He removed his checkbook and quickly wrote a check for her.

Beneath her brave front, he glimpsed vulnerability in Whitney that he doubted she knew she projected. But he’d seen it in a lot of the children he’d worked with over the years. What had put it there for Whitney?

He looked toward his son, rolling the ball around the floor in the corner. He had enough problems raising a child with autism. Since his wife had died five years ago, his hands had been full just making it through each day as a single dad. He certainly didn’t need to become involved with anyone.

But there was something in her brown eyes that haunted him, even invading his dreams at night.

Saturday morning, Whitney dragged herself to the kitchen to make coffee and grab something to eat before she tackled packing the boxes to move. While the coffee brewed, she hurriedly dressed in navy blue shorts and a red T-shirt and was back in time to pour a huge mug of the hot liquid, its aroma spicing the air.

As she sat at the table and ate her bowl of cereal, she looked around at the mess she’d created the night before in preparation for her move this weekend. Her gaze lit upon a yellow pillow that graced the sofa, and she immediately thought about Jason. He hadn’t attended school either Thursday or Friday. She’d almost called Shane on Friday to see if his son was all right. She’d even dialed halfway through the phone number before she’d slammed down the receiver, determined not to intrude.

Finally yesterday afternoon she’d asked Mrs. Bradley if she knew why Jason wasn’t at school. She’d said that he had come for about fifteen minutes the day before with his father and thirty that morning to acquaint himself more with the classroom. But he left when Dr. McCoy did. Disappointment had spread over Whitney as she’d gone back to the classroom she’d been assigned to assist in.

She wanted Jason’s school experience to work. That was the only reason she’d been disappointed the day before. Taking a long sip of her coffee, she shut down her thoughts about Shane and his son. Getting involved with them wasn’t a smart move. She already had too much on her plate—starting with packing.

A few minutes later as she emptied another drawer of her possessions, someone knocked at her door. She was trying to decide which member of the family was going to tell her all the reasons she shouldn’t move.

When she swung the door open, she was surprised that every member of Noah’s family, except the baby, stood outside the guesthouse. “I don’t want anyone of you to say another word about my move. If that’s why you came en masse, turn around and leave. I’ve got too much to do to listen.”

Noah grinned. “We’re here to help you. I’ve got Peter and Jacob coming to help with moving the pieces of furniture. They’re bringing a van. And Jacob’s wife is watching the baby so we’re all free to help all day.”

Free all day! The gesture touched Whitney but at the same time overwhelmed her—as usual. “But the furniture is yours. Zoey has a few pieces in the apartment, and I was going to buy some when I save up enough money.”

“Nope,” Cara said as she came forward, “we decided to redecorate the guesthouse. This won’t fit with the new scheme.” She waved her hand at the surroundings.

“No, this is yours.”

Lindsay gasped at Whitney’s fierce tone. Rusty’s eyes widened as Whitney faced her brother.

“Guys, let’s start in the bedroom with packing,” Cara said, gathering the four children and pushing them toward the back of the guesthouse.

When the room was cleared of everyone but Noah and Whitney, he released a long breath and frowned. “Haven’t you figured out what’s mine is yours? You are my family. I don’t need this furniture. You do. Why spend money on something I can give you?”

She narrowed her eyes on her brother. “Because I don’t want your handouts. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m going to do this on my own.”

“Cara taught me that you don’t have to go through life alone, that it’s okay to need others.”

“That’s you, not me.”

He glared at her for a long moment. “Can we compromise on this? You use the furniture until you can replace it with your own, then you can give the pieces to charity. Okay?”

There was that word compromise again. In his eyes she saw the need for her to say yes. Noah did too much for her, but she’d found out from Cara not long after she’d come to town that it was important to her brother to help his little sister. That was part of the reason she’d stayed longer than she had intended. Noah’s guilt over not being able to find her for years still ate at him. He’d felt it was his fault her childhood had been rough, that he hadn’t been able to protect her.

“Fine, but just until I can buy my own.”

The huge smile that spread over her brother’s features told her she had made the right decision. Okay, as much as she didn’t want to compromise anymore in her life, she had to be realistic. There would be a few occasions when she would have to. But she would control when and what.

That evening in her new apartment, surrounded by chaos, she sat among the unopened boxes and knew she would have a lot to do tomorrow. She’d refused Noah’s offer to bring her something to eat because she’d craved some quiet time after being among the whole family plus a few friends. Although they’d wanted to help her put some of her items away, she needed to do that personally.

Exhausted as she was, maybe she should have accepted the assistance. But she had a hard time letting others do things for her. She always expected them to have their hand out for something in return. Although Noah’s family hadn’t done that, old habits were hard to break.

When someone rapped on her front door, she jumped, her gaze swinging toward it. With a quick peek at her watch noting the still early time, she strode toward the entrance. Must be Zoey. But when she checked the peephole, the fading sunlight, as it headed toward the western horizon, illuminated Shane McCoy.

Chapter Three

Whitney automatically glanced down at her wrinkled attire, dirty from moving all day, and frowned. When she found herself finger-combing her hair, her anger rose. Why did she care how she looked? She looked like a person who had been working hard.

She wrenched the door open, ready to tell Shane she was too tired for company. The instant she saw his smiling face, then Jason next to him, both holding containers of what appeared to have food in them, the words fled her mind. Even covered, the aroma wafting from the dishes made her stomach rumble.

“We saw Noah leaving while Jason and I were going for our bike ride. He said you moved in today and grumbled something about you didn’t have much food yet, so how did you think you were going to eat tonight? So here we are with your dinner. Aunt Louise always makes too much for just us to eat.” Shane held up his casserole dish. “It’s pot roast with vegetables. And Jason has a salad. If you aren’t hungry right now, it can hold until tomorrow.”

At that moment her stomach growled. “I guess that’s your answer. I’m hungry. Come in, you two.”

“I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to bring by a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”

Jason finally peered up at her, his gaze lighting up when it encountered her hair, which she’d taken down from her ponytail a while ago. “Pretty.” Moving into the apartment, he touched the strands that had fallen forward over her shoulder.

“Well, I guess we’ll come in.” Shane crossed the threshold, taking the container from his son. “Where do you want these?”

“Kitchen.” She gestured toward the area off the living room while making her way toward one of the few places she could sit in the apartment.

When she settled on the sofa, Jason took the seat by her and occasionally grazed his fingers across her hair. When the boy’s gaze fell upon Calico perched on a box, he leaped to his feet, hurrying toward the cat. Her pet watched the child’s quick approach but remained put. Jason picked up Calico, burying his face in her fur.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure, Calico loves kids. She had to learn fast when she was at the refuge and with Noah’s children.”

Empty-handed now, Shane approached her. “We won’t stay. It wasn’t that long ago I moved into our house and know how tired you have to be.”

“You two have had dinner?”

“Yeah, before we headed out on our bike adventure.”

Jason caught sight of a box with some yellow lettering on it. Hopping up with the cat cradled in his arms, he made a beeline for the container and traced the colored words on the cardboard.

“I noticed Jason wasn’t in class on Friday when I stopped by.”

“We’re taking it a little bit at a time. I’m hoping I’ll be able to leave him sometime next week.”

“You sound like you expected it to go faster.”

“I can always hope. He’s been doing well with his therapist, and there are even times he can handle a little change in plans.” Shane lounged back against some boxes stacked along the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “But I know this isn’t a little change. He needs a reason to want to stay.”

“I could meet you on Monday and escort you two to the classroom, maybe distract him while you leave. What else does Jason like besides yellow and cats?”

“Actually any kind of animal.”

“That’s wonderful. Mrs. Bradley told me she was getting a rabbit over the weekend for the class. Maybe I could get him involved with the rabbit.”

“That might be enough.”

“Has he ever gone out to Stone’s Refuge to the barn with the animals?”

Shane shook his head.

“You ought to take him. Peter and Laura have a wonderful collection of all kinds of animals, mostly abandoned and in need of love.” Was that the reason she was drawn to Stone’s Refuge and the barn? There had been so many times in her life she’d felt that way. Stone’s Refuge was a place where children for whom the state couldn’t find foster parents were placed.

“I’ll have to ask Peter about visiting with Jason when I’m out there next time.”

“Do you go often?” She’d never seen him there even though she’d known he worked with some of the kids.

“Occasionally, especially when I want to see a child I’m counseling in his normal environment.” Shane pushed to an erect stance. “We’d better let you eat. It’s getting close to Jason’s bedtime and his ritual takes a while to get him ready to go to sleep.”

Whitney stood. “It sounds like routines are important with Jason.”

“Yes, but then with most children they are, just more so with him.” Shane turned toward his son. “Jason.” He didn’t continue until he had his child’s attention. “We need to go home, buddy.” Shane strode to the front door and opened it, then waited for Jason to put down the cat.

Reluctantly, his son let go of Calico and hurried out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“Good night, Whitney, and welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks for the dinner.”

Shane followed Jason who paused next to Whitney’s car and ran his hand along its length.

Swinging around and backpedaling, Shane looked up at her. “Was it fixed okay?”

“Yes. Actually I think it runs even better,” she said, leaning against the wooden railing on her small porch.

“That’s wonderful. At least something good came out of what happened on Monday.” Shane faced forward and took his son’s hand before heading across the street toward his house.

Whitney watched them until they disappeared from her view, the dim light of dusk settling over the neighborhood. The August heat of an Oklahoma day still lingered in the air. A cardinal chirped in a nearby maple, its bright red coloring vivid among the green foliage. The scent of the honeysuckle bush beneath her porch along the side of the garage sweetened the warm breeze that blew.

The move today had made her aware of just how much her life was changing—like Jason’s. Maybe they could help each other through the change.

Returning from the grocery store after coming home from church, Shane drove past Whitney’s apartment, his gaze straying to it. Was she busy unpacking? He remembered all the unopened boxes stacked in her living area the night before. Did she need help? Was her family going to help today?

He had to agree with his son about her hair. The color was a rich, deep gold. It fell in thick waves about her shoulders, inviting a person to caress it as if it were a waterfall of sunshine.

And why in the world was he even thinking about her? She had a Do Not Disturb sign hanging around her neck. She didn’t trust others. He knew that in his gut because he had recognized the defensive signs, a certain wary look in the eye, an “I want to do everything myself” attitude, because trusting meant putting yourself out there to be hurt.

He also knew a little about not trusting. When Becka, his pregnant wife, had been killed in a house fire, he’d gone through a period where he’d backed away from family and friends. Then Aunt Louise had appeared at his doorstep and shown him the importance of trusting in the Lord. Once he had turned to Him, the rest fell into place. Yes, there were times he was disappointed in others or hurt by them, but the alternative was worse—cutting yourself off from people, especially the ones who really cared about you. But having been deeply in love with his wife, he never wanted to feel that kind of loss ever again.

He was perfectly content to focus on Jason. He’d grown to appreciate his son and his unique perspective on life. Jason was his life now.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Whitney?

Pushing the question from his mind, he parked in his driveway and climbed from his vehicle. He grabbed the sack with bread and strawberry jam he’d gotten at the store for his aunt so she could fix Jason’s lunch and headed toward the front door. Inside silence greeted him. Too quiet. Usually the radio in the kitchen was going or the television in the den. Or Jason was jabbering to his aunt or one of his toys.

Had Aunt Louise taken Jason out? Shane moved toward the kitchen, his aunt’s domain and where she spent a lot of time. Just inside the door Shane glimpsed his son in the den, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth with a broad grin on his face. Shane’s gaze swept the kitchen. No Aunt Louise.

Moving toward the den, he scanned that room. His gaze came to an abrupt halt a foot from his son. Hidden from his earlier perusal Aunt Louise lay on the area carpet.

Shane raced to her and felt her pulse. He breathed a sigh when he got one. Digging in his pocket for his cell, he punched in 9-1-1 while he looked over at his son to make sure he was all right. Jason still smiled, as though nothing was wrong. In his mind it wasn’t.

After giving the operator the necessary information and asking that the siren not be used within a few blocks of the street, he turned to his son again. Sirens, like thunder, would upset Jason.

“Why don’t you go watch Animal Planet in my bedroom?” Shane didn’t want him to witness the EMTs taking Aunt Louise away.

“Can Auntie watch?”

Knowing Jason, when someone’s eyes were closed, he would think she was sleeping, not hurt. “Maybe later.”

As his son left the den, Aunt Louise’s eyes fluttered open. She stared at Shane, her forehead wrinkling. “What am…” She tried to rise to a sitting position but instead wilted back against the carpet. “Why—am I—on the floor?” she murmured, bringing her hand to her head and covering her eyes for a few seconds.

“That’s a good question. You don’t remember?”

Her hand slid away from her face. “I—No.”

A few minutes later when the doorbell rang, Shane sighed. “That’s the paramedics. I called 9-1-1. Be right back.” He hurried to the front door and let the two EMTs inside. “She’s in the den. She’s awake now but groggy.”

“What happened?” the tall one asked.

“I don’t know and neither does she.”

“Is she diabetic? Have a heart condition?”

“No, not that I know of. The only thing she’s had problems with is arthritis in her knees.”

Shane hung back while the EMTs worked on Aunt Louise and put her on the stretcher. Before they wheeled her out the door, Shane took his aunt’s hand. “I’ll be right behind the ambulance. They’ll take good care of you.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m in the Lord’s hands.”

The second the ambulance pulled away, Shane went to get Jason. He’d rather not take him to the hospital, but he didn’t want to take the time to find a babysitter. What if his aunt had had a heart attack and had another one before he could get there? He didn’t want her to be alone. He owed her so much.

When Shane went upstairs and into his bedroom to round up Jason, it was empty. He checked the master bathroom, then went to Jason’s room across the hall. Again his son was nowhere in sight. Trying to remain calm, he hurried through the rest of the house, calling his son’s name over and over.

Fifteen minutes later, frantic, he headed out the kitchen door to see if Jason was in the backyard. The phone rang, the sound jerking Shane back around and into the house. He snatched it up while glancing out the bay window in the breakfast nook.

“Shane, this is Whitney. Jason showed up at my apartment. He was downstairs touching my car. I figured you didn’t know he came over.”

He collapsed into the chair nearby, dropping his head in relief. “No, I didn’t. I’ll be right over.”

When Whitney opened the door to reveal Shane on her stoop, her heart twisted at the sight of the man, pale, his hair tousled, his expression drawn and worn.

“I called you as soon as I saw him.” Whitney stepped to the side to allow him to enter.

“I really appreciate that. This hasn’t been a good day.” Shane’s gaze slipped from her to find his son on the couch, writing on a yellow pad while Calico pressed up against his thigh.

“He’s drawing a picture of my cat for me.” Whitney closed the door and moved toward her kitchen area, the sound of Jason’s pencil strokes and Calico purring echoing through the apartment. “I know it’s almost one, but do you want some coffee?”

“No, I can’t stay. Aunt Louise was just taken to the hospital in an ambulance.”

The love and concern for his aunt filled Shane’s eyes and tugged at her. That was what she and her brother were beginning to develop. “What happened?”

“I came home from going to the store and found her on the floor in the den, passed out. I don’t know what happened, and when she came to, she didn’t, either.” Shane stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I sent Jason into another room so he wouldn’t see the paramedics take my aunt away. He left the house instead. I didn’t even hear the front door opening. When I couldn’t find him…” What little color he had leached completely from his face.

The urge to comfort strong, Whitney placed her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine the horror of finding your child gone.” And he still had his aunt to see about. “Let me help you. I can watch Jason while you go to the hospital if you want.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. Look at all you have to do.” He gestured at the stacked boxes.

“First, you didn’t ask me. I’m volunteering, and I don’t volunteer unless I want to. Second, I have to go to Stone’s Refuge today, and I think Jason would enjoy it. I want to show him the animals in the barn.”

“You’re going to the farm when you have all this to unpack?”

“I do every Sunday afternoon, and this will be here when I get back. It isn’t going anywhere.” She grinned, remembering how neat and tidy his home was and wondering if it was Shane more than Aunt Louise.

“I can’t imagine living out of boxes for more than a day. I don’t do well with chaos.”

“And I have acquired more chaos than I thought possible this past year.” Because her brother had showered her with gifts until she’d had to cry uncle. “Chaos, that is, if I emptied every one of these,” her arm swept toward the stacks in the living area, “and didn’t put anything away. However, a little chaos is okay sometimes.”

He arched an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“Has Jason eaten?”

“No, in fact, that’s why I made an emergency run to the store. He had gotten into the jam and bread sometime since yesterday so there wasn’t any for a sandwich for him.”

“What does Jason like to eat?”

“Two things. Peanut butter and strawberry jam or a hamburger from Lucky’s Drive Thru.”

“Oh, he has good taste. Nothing beats Lucky’s hamburger. Don’t tell Noah I said that.”

“I’m trying to expand my son’s tastes to other foods, but I’ve not had much success yet.”

“That’s all he eats?” Whitney again looked over at the boy who was still happily doodling on the yellow pad.

“For lunch. He’ll only eat certain dishes for each meal.”

“Interesting. I don’t know much about autism.”

“Routine and order is very important to him.”

And to Shane? Her life had never had much routine or order to it. Since coming to Cimarron City, however, she’d acquired some of both.

“I’d better be going. I told Aunt Louise I would be there for her.”

“Go. If I run into a problem, I’ll let you know.”

“If anything happens, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“It shouldn’t. We’ll go to Lucky’s then Stone’s Refuge. We’ll be there most of the afternoon.” She covered the few steps to her door while Shane strode to his son and knelt in front of him.

Clasping both upper arms, Shane waited until he had Jason’s attention. “I need to leave for a while. Whitney is going to watch you. She’s taking you to Lucky’s for a hamburger then to see some animals at a farm. Okay?”

His son peered at her. “Like yellow hair.” Then he dropped his head and began drawing again.

Shane came toward her. “I think everything will be all right. Call, if it’s not. Aunt Louise will understand if I have to leave.”

“Will do.” Whitney stepped out onto the stoop with him. “Don’t worry about him. If he loves animals, he’ll enjoy the farm.”

“Thanks.” He glanced toward the entrance. “Are you sure about this?”

“My brother keeps telling me I need to learn to accept help. Guess what? You should, too.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, my aunt tells me that. I’ve had to learn with Jason.”

She turned him around and gently pushed him toward the stairs. “Go. Make sure Louise is all right.”

Down below Shane peered up at her. “What if this takes longer—”

“Dr. McCoy, goodbye. I’m going inside.” She determinedly pivoted away from him and headed back inside, but before closing the door, she glimpsed him jogging away. What happened to Shane’s wife? How had she died? There was a lot about him that was appealing and attractive. Were Jason and his problems the reason Shane hadn’t remarried? Or something else? It was clear he hadn’t moved on after five years because he still wore his wedding ring. Did he use it like a suit of armor to protect himself?

She wouldn’t ask those questions aloud. It wasn’t her business. But that didn’t stop her from wondering about them.

The second they entered the barn at Stone’s Refuge, Jason saw a large mutt near the tool room, eating his food from a metal bowl. The boy raced toward the dog before Whitney could grab him and hold him back. Plopping down on all fours by the animal, Jason stared at it. The mutt fixed his gaze on the child, only a few inches separated their noses.

Whitney started forward to get Shane’s son before the dog bit him. A hand stopped her. She glanced back at Peter Stone, the man who had founded Stone’s Refuge for children in the foster-care system. He and Noah had bonded while they lived together in a foster home as teens.

“Wait, see what the dog does. He’s been gentle and good so far with the kids here.”

“I didn’t see him last week. How long has he been here?”

“About five days, but you should have seen Jacob’s son hanging off him yesterday. Took it like he’d been doing it all his life.”

The mutt and Jason assessed each other for a good three minutes before the dog buried his head in his bowl and ate his food. Still down on all fours, the boy just watched and waited. When the mutt finished with his meal, he swung toward Jason and licked his face. The child laughed.

That sound, loud and robust, wormed its way into Whitney’s heart.

“Are you going riding with the kids today?”

Since the spring when Peter had taught her to ride a horse, she’d been going with a group of children from the refuge each Sunday afternoon and whenever she could work some time into her schedule. “I don’t know with Shane’s son here.”

“I can watch him. Shane goes to my church, and I’ve been around Jason for the past several years. But maybe he’ll want to go riding, too.”

“Does he know how?”

“Not that I know of. He’s never been here, and Shane’s hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

“Then is that a good idea?”

Peter nodded toward the child. “It’s obvious he loves animals.”

Jason patted the mutt, rubbing his face against the dog’s.

“You know how good animals are therapeutically. Why do you think I keep so many? The kids here respond to them, often before they do with an adult at the refuge.”

“Yeah.” She’d known personally how they were for her. There was a connection between her and certain animals she couldn’t explain. Being with them was calming. When she rode, she didn’t think about her problems. She just enjoyed the experience. And Calico was whom she told all her troubles to.

“You don’t have to go far from the barn. The other children won’t mind. You’re taking the younger ones today.” Peter started toward a stall. “We have some time before the other kids arrive. Let’s see what Jason does on a horse.”

A minute later Peter brought a small chestnut horse out into the main part of the barn and put a saddle on it. The movement caught Jason’s attention. Still on all fours, the boy’s eyes followed everything that Peter did.

Whitney covered the distance between her and Jason. “Would you like to ride with me in the paddock?”

His large brown gaze fastened onto her. He took her hand and led her toward the horse.

“I guess that’s a yes,” she said with a laugh.

Whitney quickly retrieved the gray mare she always rode from a stall and prepped her. She’d fallen in love with Princess Leia the first time she’d come to the barn last December. The mare’s previous owner had abused the horse, but with a lot of love, Whitney had won the animal over. After securing the leather straps around her middle, she dug into her pocket and removed the carrot she’d brought to give to Princess Leia. They were kindred spirits.

Whitney scratched her behind her ear, something she’d discovered the mare enjoyed. “Are you ready? I’ve missed you this week. I didn’t get to come see you Wednesday evening. I was helping out at a cottage. Hannah was short staffed.”

When she looked toward Peter to see if Jason had mounted and was ready, she discovered the child’s gaze focused on her, taking in everything she did. She smiled at the boy who still hadn’t gotten into the saddle.

“Okay, Jason. Let’s get you up on Big Red.” Peter moved to help the child mount.

Jason scrambled to Whitney’s side and clung to her. “Let me see if I can get him up. He doesn’t know you.” There was a part of her that was amazed she said that as though she really knew Jason well.

She led the boy back to Big Red and patted the gelding’s side. “Jason, you can pat him, too, just like Calico.”

Tentatively the boy reached out and brushed his fingertips over the chestnut’s coat. Jason giggled and looked up at Whitney. Her hands about the child’s small waist, she lifted him onto the horse.

Clutching the saddle horn, Jason squealed with delight, never taking his eyes off Whitney. She swung onto her mare.

As she rode next to Jason around the paddock, she held the reins to his horse. He wouldn’t let go of the saddle horn, but he beamed with a huge grin and occasionally laughed. As before, the sound was sweet like the mockingbird in a nearby tree. A breeze kicked up, cooling the warmth of the summer sun.

When she came to a halt by the gate into the paddock, she shifted in the saddle toward Jason. “Do you want to go riding in that field?”

He glanced toward where she pointed. “Go, horsie.”

Four children, ranging in ages from seven to eleven, accompanied her and Jason on their ride to the stream. Shane’s son stuck right next to her. He never let go of the saddle horn, and when they arrived at the brook, he wouldn’t dismount.

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