Second Chances

Detective Jack Campbell needs a fresh start. So he quits his job, packs up his house and his daughter and heads north to Manitoba, Canada. But his daughter, Giselle, is miserable, and will only talk to local shop owner Alicia Featherstone. Her kindness to his daughter does not go unnoticed by Jack, and soon the relationship between father and daughter isn’t the only thing Alicia’s helping to heal. He’s quickly falling for sweet Alicia. But when her past threatens their future together, can he learn to trust enough to make them a permanent family?

“Do you have kids?” Jack asked.

“I’m single,” Alicia said firmly. Then, lest he think she was angling for a date, she added, “And I intend to stay that way.”

“Not exactly what I asked.” His gaze narrowed. “But I agree with you. I intend to stay single, too.”

“Oh?” A hunk like him staying single? In Churchill? Alicia almost laughed.

“I will never allow myself to go through losing someone I care for again.” The absolute loss in Jack’s voice killed her amusement. When he spoke again, his voice was more even. “If you had kids, you’d understand how they become the focus of your life. You’ll do anything for them. Giselle is my world. Besides her, nothing else matters.”

I do understand what you mean, Jack. I know exactly how you feel. I’d do anything to keep my son safe. But I don’t know where he is, or how to find him.

“Sorry, guess I’m not very good company tonight,” Jack muttered, turning away. The keep-away signs were clearly posted. Only natural, given he’d lost his wife.

Not that Alicia was interested in Jack…

LOIS RICHER

began her travels the day she read her first book and realized that fiction provided an extraordinary adventure. Creating that adventure for others became her obsession. With millions of books in print, Lois continues to enjoy creating stories of joy and hope. She and her husband love to travel, which makes it easy to find the perfect setting for her next story. Lois would love to hear from you via www.loisricher.com or loisricher@yahoo.com, or on Facebook.

North Country Mom

Lois Richer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Lord will work out his plans for my life—

for your loving kindness, Lord, continues forever. Don’t abandon me—for you made me.

—Psalms 138:8

This book is dedicated to my mom,

the strongest woman I know. I love you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

In her rush up the train stairs, Alicia Featherstone smacked headfirst into a massive male chest.

Her breath whooshed out and she reeled back, fighting to recover her balance.

“My fault.” The man’s voice reminded her of a polar bear’s growl. His fingers closed around her arm, almost dragging her upward into the dim train.

His grasp sparked memories of the darkest moments in her life. Memories that threatened to engulf her.

“Please,” Alicia gasped, fighting the remembered images while struggling to hold on to the three packages she cradled.

The shadows...his hands... She had to get free. But his strong grip wouldn’t release her. She knew the stranger was trying to help, but years of nightmare memories of being attacked couldn’t stem the panic clogging her throat.

The sound of her precious packages tumbling to the floor snapped her back to reality. One box bounced down the stairs and landed on the platform. She couldn’t afford to lose it, certainly not because of this big man who’d blocked her way. With anger came clarity.

“Let go of me,” she ordered.

His hand immediately dropped away. The man stepped back as if she’d burned him. Alicia inhaled, drawing in oxygen to ease the terror of the past.

“All aboard for Churchill, Manitoba!”

The conductor’s call galvanized Alicia. She dropped what she held and hurried down the steps to retrieve her parcel from the platform. She’d barely gained the first step up when the train began moving. Again the man’s massive hands closed over her arms. He hauled her upward until his face was millimeters from hers. His deep blue eyes blazed into hers.

“Jumping out like that was a stupid thing to do,” he growled.

“Please—” she began, then clamped her mouth closed.

This isn’t the past. You aren’t fifteen and vulnerable. You don’t have to beg.

“Release me,” she demanded, then wished she hadn’t. He was only trying to help; no point in antagonizing him. He might end up as a customer and Alicia needed every buyer she could get to fulfill her dream of opening a second store.

“Sorry.” He dropped her arm and held up his hands, backing away.

“Thank you. I’m going to find a seat,” she said firmly as she bent to corral the rest of her packages. One box skittered beyond her reach.

“By all means.” The man caught the runaway box and laid it on top of the others in her arms without touching her. Then he opened the heavy door, held it and waved her past.

“Thanks.” Alicia tried to ignore his presence as she searched for a vacant seat.

It would have to be one of those days when the tired old train was full. Two of the most biased people in town were on board. Though it hurt, she pretended she didn’t notice the way they turned their backs on her and hoped the man behind her didn’t notice, either.

Finally she spied two seats together in the middle of the car. She hurried toward them, relieved to let her packages tumble onto the seat.

“Um.” He was right behind her. “That’s my seat.”

“Oh.” Her face reddened, but she wasn’t going to be intimidated by either his height or his muscle-honed body. She twisted to look at him.

That was a mistake. His face nearly made her gulp. Classic hunk material. All chiseled lines and sharp-angled cheekbones topped by beach-bum-blond hair and rich blue eyes that seemed to bore into her. Alicia inhaled and focused.

“Both seats are yours?”

“Technically, one is my daughter’s, but she’s sleeping over there.” He jerked a hand toward the seats across the aisle. A preteen girl lay sprawled across the two reclining chairs, her long black hair spread around her like a curtain. “Giselle wasn’t feeling well earlier so I’d rather not wake her. It would be better if we could share these two seats.” His short, terse tone dared her to argue. When she didn’t respond, he glanced down at her packages spread across both seats then back up at her. “If you don’t mind?”

Actually, Alicia did mind.

The intimacy of sitting beside him made her very uncomfortable. Besides, she’d counted on catching some sleep before the train arrived in Churchill tomorrow morning. With this heartthrob sitting next to her the chances of that were as good as her winning the lottery; however, as the last person to board the train she was hardly in a position to argue.

He tapped his toe, clearly impatient for her decision. As if she had a choice. Still...she was making progress in her whole avoid men issue. She could do this.

“Uh, thanks for sharing.” Alicia tried to gather the packages, but she no sooner had a grip on two than the third popped out of her arms.

Usually she brought a bag for just this purpose, but somehow she’d misplaced it at the last stop when she’d left the train to pick up Mary Starblanket’s beaded earrings. Frustrated and embarrassed that everyone was now watching them, she tried to hide below the seat back and in the process lost all the packages she held.

“Maybe this will help.” He held out a sack made of netting. “I’ll hold it, you get them inside. Perhaps then we can finally sit down.”

“Thanks.” So bossy. But at least he was helping. When the bag was full, he tightened the top then swung everything into an overhead bin, including her backpack. She winced at the rough handling but said only, “Window or aisle?”

“Aisle. My legs are too long for the inside seat.”

They certainly were; long and clad in designer jeans. But it was his feet Alicia noticed—feet covered in a most amazing pair of boots which lovingly hugged his feet in gleaming black calfskin. For a fit like that, she guessed the boots were custom. She wondered who’d made them. Good craftsmen were hard to find. She should know. She was always looking for unique, handcrafted items for her shop.

Suddenly aware she was staring, Alicia huddled against the wall to give him more room.

His smile and the way he pointed his booted toes up were the only signs he gave that he’d noticed her scrutiny. He thrust out a hand. “Jack Campbell.”

“Alicia Featherstone.” As his fingers engulfed hers a tiny shiver of—what? Fear? Dread?—made the hairs on her arm stand to attention. She blinked. No, it felt more like anticipation. Surprise bloomed inside her. It couldn’t be anticipation. Men made her nervous. Had done ever since—

“What’s in the packages, Alicia?” he asked.

“Stock for my store.” He certainly wasn’t reticent. “I buy handmade goods from First Nations people to sell to visitors to Churchill,” she explained. “Canada has a thriving Native arts population. I’m trying to help it expand.”

“Tansi.”

This handsome traveler spoke her native Cree language? Delighted, Alicia shot back a greeting in the same language.

“Pardon?” Jack raised both eyebrows in an imperious question mark.

Uh-oh. Alicia switched to English. “I thought you were speaking to me in Cree.”

“Maybe I was and didn’t know it.” His tanned face relaxed and suddenly he looked much younger. And more handsome, if that was possible. “I don’t know what it means but isn’t Tansi the name of your store?”

“In Cree it means ‘hi’ or ‘how are you.’” She tilted her head to one side. “And yes, my store is called Tansi. How did you know?”

“I’ve been to Churchill before.” Jack inclined his head. “My sister, Laurel Quinn, lives there. She runs a rehabilitation project for troubled boys called Lives Under Construction.”

“I’m very familiar with it. I teach her boys classes on Aboriginal culture.” Alicia silently completed a second inventory on Jack. Yep, he was the stuff of romantic teenage dreams. Fortunately hers were long gone. “How long will you be visiting?”

She followed his gaze to the girl who slept so peacefully across the way. Giselle didn’t look anything like her father. Perhaps she favors her mother. A pang of loss pinched Alicia’s stomach into a knot as she remembered a baby, so tiny, so precious.

Where is he now, Lord?

“Giselle and I aren’t visitors this time.” The tightness in Jack’s voice made her curious. “We’re moving to Churchill permanently. I bought a hotel.”

“You’re the new owner of the Northern Lights Lodge,” she said in sudden understanding.

“Yes.” He didn’t exactly look thrilled.

“You aren’t excited about your venture? Do you have lots of experience?” She wished she could make herself small enough so his broad shoulder didn’t keep brushing hers, but that was not easy when she was five foot eight.

“No. I was a cop in Vancouver.” His voice hummed with a low rumble. “It’s all I ever wanted to be and I was good at it.”

A cop who loved shoes? She’d think about that later.

“I lived in Vancouver once.” Alicia couldn’t quite suppress a shudder. “Why’d you quit being a cop to run a hotel?” she asked, then realized how nosy she sounded. To change the subject she said, “You’ll probably regret leaving mild Vancouver when winter returns to Churchill.”

“I doubt it.” Jack said it with a bald fierceness, his gaze on his daughter. “I’m moving for Giselle, to keep her safe.” His jaw clenched and a tiny tic appeared.

“Oh. Is she in danger?” Alicia couldn’t contain her curiosity about this obviously hurting man and his very cute daughter.

“Maybe.” He gave Alicia the kind of look that sized her up in about three seconds. “Her mom was an internal-affairs cop. We thought she’d be safer there than on the street. Turns out we were wrong. Simone was killed by a dirty cop two years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Alicia’s heart winced at the grief that colored his voice. “So you’re left to take care of Giselle on your own. But you can’t do that if you’re working as a cop, so you bought the hotel,” she guessed. “Good for you.”

“And because Laurel’s here in Churchill. She’s the only family we have left.” Jack’s gaze drifted to the other passengers, who were settling into a drowsy state as spring’s twilight faded and darkness fluttered over the land.

Then he faced her, a line of strain deepening around his mouth. His blue eyes turned navy. Alicia felt the tension emanating from him.

“I’ll do anything to protect Giselle,” he said in a fierce voice. “Including figuring out a new occupation. It helps that Laurel has a friend who is a mega-hotelier. His name is Teddy Stonechild and he comes to Churchill a lot. He promised to help me get the place up and running.”

“Giselle will be safe in Churchill. We’re so isolated that most of the world barely knows we exist,” Alicia said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I hope that’s not true.” A smile tried to play with the corner of Jack’s mouth. “Otherwise, my hotel will go broke.”

“Highly unlikely. Teddy knows everything about running a hotel. He should, given how many he has.” Alicia shrugged. “Anyway, the polar bear seekers book every available room from mid-September to November, the northern lights hunters come in January and February, and we get a lot of folks stopping by to see the belugas from now till fall. Lodging in Churchill is very limited and very relaxed, so I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“I hope so.” The words emerged in a quiet murmur as Jack stared at his daughter. “Because failure is not an option.”

“I’ll say a prayer for you and Giselle,” she offered.

“I doubt that will make a difference.” His voice hardened. “God abandoned us when He let Simone die.”

“God doesn’t abandon His children.” Alicia bristled under the look Jack gave her, a look that said he thought she was being childish. “Believe me, I know.”

“Why? Do you have kids?” Jack asked.

“I’m single,” she said firmly. Then, lest he think she was angling for a date, she added, “And I intend to stay that way.”

“Not exactly what I asked.” His gaze narrowed. “But I agree with you. I intend to stay single, too.”

“Oh?” A hunk like him staying single? In Churchill? Alicia almost laughed.

“I will never allow myself to go through losing someone I care for again.” The absolute loss in Jack’s voice killed her amusement. When he spoke again, his voice was more even. “If you had kids, you’d understand how they become the focus of your life. You’ll do anything for them. Giselle is my world. Besides her, nothing else matters.”

I do understand what you mean, Jack. I know exactly how you feel. I’d do anything to keep my son safe. But I don’t know where he is, or how to find him.

“Sorry, guess I’m not very good company tonight,” Jack muttered turning away. The keep-away signs were clearly posted. Only natural, given he’d lost his wife.

Not that Alicia was interested in Jack. The idea of a relationship with any man scared her. That was her legacy from Vancouver. After the attack she’d never felt safe there, so she’d come to isolated Churchill, got a job and eventually, with the help of her dear friends, she’d bought her store.

Churchill was Alicia’s escape from the ugliness of her past.

Minutes passed. She felt Jack’s occasional scrutiny but kept staring out the window. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Not now that the dark curtain of memories had fallen around her. Her heart ached with the same old longing—to know her child was safe, loved, cared for. If only God would answer that prayer.

Not that Alicia had any right to ask a thing of God. Giving her son away when he was most vulnerable made her unworthy of motherhood.

But I was vulnerable, too, her heart cried. I didn’t know I’d never see him again. Don’t let him grow up alone and scared like I was, Lord. Please keep him safe.

Her cell phone vibrated. She snapped it open. “Hello.”

“It’s me. Listen, Alicia, there’s something you must know. Jeremy Parcet has been asking questions about you.” Nancy Runningbear’s voice was as clear as if she was seated beside Alicia in the train instead of miles away in Vancouver. “He’s been looking up kids who were in your class, asking them where you are, what you’re doing, stuff like that.”

“M-Mr. Parcet is?” Terror stole Alicia’s breath. “Why?”

“His father died. Apparently there’s a stipulation in his will that Jeremy must show proof of an heir within three years or he can’t inherit.” Her old friend paused. “I was told Jeremy’s wife can’t have children,” she murmured.

Alicia’s throat choked with fear.

“My guess is he’s done some research, knows you got pregnant after he attacked you and is now after the child.” Nancy harrumphed her disgust. “I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” The words came out in a whisper.

“Don’t thank me. That man was someone you trusted, your teacher for goodness’ sake. He should be in jail for what he did to you.” Nancy paused. Alicia could hear Nancy’s husband’s voice in the background. “Harold’s telling me to get to the point which is, if Jeremy can prove he’s a father, he’ll be able to inherit. It’s around four million, Alicia, very big motivation to find you. Once he does, he’ll turn up and press for details about your child. You have to be careful.”

“Yes.” Fear clamped a band around the back of Alicia’s neck. “I appreciate your warning, Nancy,” she murmured, checking over one shoulder to be certain no one was listening. “I’ll always be grateful for the way you and Harold took me in back then. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“God would have provided someone else,” Nancy assured her, her voice cracking. “He always does. We’re just happy He used us. I have to go now. You be careful.”

“I will. Thanks for the heads up. Bye.”

Alicia stared into the darkness outside while she absorbed what she’d heard. The wheels clicked over the tracks in a rhythmic motion that had apparently lulled Jack to sleep. She peeked over at him again. The man was certainly handsome. But she couldn’t think about his looks or the way his raspy voice made her skin tingle.

The same ten-year-old prayer sighed from Alicia’s heart. Surely God would answer soon. Surely this time He’d protect her from Mr. Parcet. If not her, because she’d failed to be the mother she should have, then surely for her innocent child.

She’d let herself imagine expanding her business, but she ought to know that God didn’t give people like her their dreams. That was for better people, people who didn’t make terrible mistakes like giving away their child.

But the past didn’t matter now. She had to concentrate on finding her son, on making certain he was safe and loved. And far away from Jeremy Parcet, her rapist.

Again Alicia’s gaze rested on Jack. He’d been a detective. Maybe— No! Asking him for help would mean revealing her past. She could imagine the disgust she’d see in those blue eyes.

No. She’d have to handle this herself.

Chapter Two

Painful prickles woke Jack around three-thirty. He tried to shift his sleeping arm but a weight held him down. Waking more fully, he peered through the darkness at the woman whose head rested against his shoulder.

She reminded him of the Indian maiden in that show Giselle used to love when she was little. Pocahontas. Only Alicia Featherstone was prettier. Those high, defined cheekbones and straight, proud nose proclaimed her Native Canadian ancestry. Her hair, almost black as a raven’s wing, was bound in thick braids and tied at the ends by strings of leather woven with turquoise beads. Thick bangs fringed her broad forehead ending just above arched black eyebrows.

Though her eyes were closed, he knew they were a rich espresso that turned black when she was upset. Lush lashes rested on dusky cheekbones. Her full lips pursed as she gave a tiny shiver and shifted her head to a more comfortable position against his shoulder.

Alicia wore no rings. She’d said she was single, which Laurel had told him in passing. His sister had also mentioned that Alicia had planned a big summer project for the Lives Under Construction boys—building a sod house like the Cree Indians would have used when the first settlers came to Churchill. As soon as Laurel had been certain he was moving to Churchill, she’d asked Jack to help.

Alicia doesn’t know the meaning of overdoing, his sister had told him. Nothing stops her from giving her all. She’s what Mom used to call a giver. She thinks she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to.

Not a bad thing to believe. He’d hidden his chagrin at Laurel’s request. You think she’s in over her head?

No, but a whole house? It’s too much for her. I know you and Simone volunteered with the restoration work on that sod building at the museum in Vancouver. You must have picked up some knowledge. Laurel had pinned him with her gaze. The boys are really looking forward to this, Jack. They’re planning a community celebration when it’s finished, to show off their handiwork. You’ll help Alicia, won’t you?

If I have time, Jack had finally agreed. Running the hotel is going to be a steep learning curve, sis. It’s not something I’ve ever done.

It won’t be like running a big-city hotel. Laurel had chuckled. Anyway Teddy will be here for the whole summer to help. He’s grooming his son to take over his hotel empire. Teddy wants to give him time to manage on his own. With an expert like him to teach you, you’ll have lots of time for Alicia.

That’s when Jack had noticed something in his sister’s voice, something that he had to nip in the bud.

Don’t matchmake, Laurel, he’d warned. Don’t even consider it. I’m not interested in anyone. At all. Ever.

Ever? Laurel had smiled sympathetically. I know Simone’s death hit both you and Giselle hard. Give it a little more time.

More time? For what? It felt as if he’d barely survived the past two years. Jack was pretty sure more time wouldn’t heal the gaping hole in his heart. Simone had been his high school sweetheart. They’d done everything together. They’d been soul mates. That only happened once in a lifetime and God had ended it.

Now Giselle would be the focus of his world.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crush you.” The soft apology broke through his thoughts as Alicia jerked away. Cool air chilled his arm where her warm cheek had rested. Her face bore a flush of embarrassment. “Please excuse me.”

“No problem.” He rotated his shoulder, trying to ignore her scrutiny through the shadows. It didn’t work. He subconsciously noticed every detail about her. Not because he was interested, he told himself. Just a habit left over from his law-enforcement days.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

“I’m not used to sitting so long.” His nose twitched at the scent she wore. He’d noticed it earlier. Something dried and earthy, like an herb. Sage? “Are you full-blooded Cree?”

“Yes.” She looked a bit surprised at his sudden question but didn’t volunteer any more. Instead, she averted her eyes as if hiding something.

“Where do your parents live?” Why did he feel compelled to learn more about her?

“They died when I was thirteen.” Alicia faced him, her eyes darkening to black diamonds. “My dad was a pilot. They were returning from visiting a friend up north when their plane crashed. I was sent to live in Vancouver with a distant relative.” Her gaze challenged him. Any other questions?

“I didn’t mean to pry,” he apologized.

“It’s not a secret. Anyone in Churchill could have told you the same thing,” she said.

But Jack was pretty sure they couldn’t tell him any other details about Alicia Featherstone. According to Laurel, she kept to herself. He guessed most people respected the resolute barriers she wore like shields.

“Can I ask you a question?” Alicia murmured.

“I guess.” He waited warily, hoping she didn’t have the wrong impression. Alicia was very pretty but he wasn’t interested.

Liar.

“What’s with the boots?” Her gaze fell to his feet.

“You don’t like them?” Jack held out one foot, admiring the feel of the supple leather snuggled against his toes without pinching.

“They’re great. Very, uh, pretty.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just that you don’t strike me as the pretty type.”

“Thanks.” Jack smothered his chuckle when she dipped her head. “It’s not about fashion. I do—did,” he corrected gloomily, “a lot of work on my feet. I decided early on that I wasn’t going to be a literal flatfoot so I bought good shoes.”

“You do realize they’ll be ruined in Churchill?” she warned. “You must have noticed on previous visits that we only have pavement in some places. Other streets are gravel. The worst roads around town are dirt. If you wear those on the beach, the stones will poke through the soles and you’ll suffer a lot worse than flat feet.” She thrust out her own foot. “Trust me. You will end up in ordinary hiking boots, just like the rest of us.”

“Never.” He liked her dare-you attitude. “Tell me about your store.”

“Tansi?” She frowned, leaned her head to one side. “I told you. I gather First Nations work from all across Canada, some of it very unusual. I try to sell it with bits of history attached, to give tourists perspective on how the piece came to be, what it means to our culture.”

Jack noted how a sparkle lit up her eyes as she spoke. It was clear Alicia loved her work. He paid close attention as she continued.

“There’s a lot of prejudice toward Native Canadians.” Her chin thrust out as if to defend her people. “I’m trying to create a bridge by showing and teaching the values in our culture. I want to help people appreciate the meaning of their purchase.”

“What kinds of things do you sell?” He wanted to keep her talking. She intrigued him. Surprising when nothing had really interested him for ages.

“My stock changes constantly. There are no two things alike. At the moment I have an Inuit carving of a walrus, very tiny but perfectly detailed. A woman makes beaded slippers with real rabbit fur trim for my shop. She lives entirely off the land. This trip I restocked silver and beaded earrings made by a village elder who is wheelchair-bound but the most creative lady you’ll ever meet.” Alicia shrugged. “I also have some paintings of the northern lights, knitting that’s been dyed from local plants, photos of the area. All kinds of things.”

“And I’m sure the polar bears are represented, too,” he teased.

“Of course. Bears are an important part of Cree culture,” she said.

“Do you make any of these crafts?”

“I’m not really talented in that way.” The light in her eyes faded to a dull mud tone. “I never had much time to learn the old ways because I was taken from my community when my parents died.”

“Were you adopted?” he asked, curiosity growing.

“No. I was thirteen. Adoptive parents want babies or very young kids.” She frowned at him. “Why did you ask that?”

“Just wondering.” But Jack knew he couldn’t shut down like that. He’d poked into her life; turnabout was fair play. Besides, he needed help to figure out his next move. “Giselle is adopted. My wife wanted to keep it a secret as long as she could. I didn’t agree but Simone was adamant. Then she died. I thought I’d tell Giselle when she turned sixteen.”

“But she found out first?” Alicia guessed.

“Yes.” His lips tightened into a line. “Two months ago she found her mother’s old diary and figured out we weren’t her birth parents.”

“It happens.” Alicia didn’t say any more but somehow Jack felt her empathy.

“She’s really angry that we didn’t tell her.” He sighed. “That’s natural, I guess. But she keeps demanding more information about her birth family.”

“And you don’t want to tell her?” Disapproval laced her voice.

“I can’t tell her more because I don’t know any more.” Jack’s jaw clenched. Why had he started this?

Alicia leaned against the window of the train, her gaze on him.

“I have so little information.” He raked a hand through his hair as helplessness gripped him. “There’s nothing to go on. Simone insisted on a closed adoption. That means that Giselle can’t find out anything more than what we already know until she’s eighteen. Then she can request the adoption agency in British Columbia to open her file.”

“Normal procedure.”

Jack nodded. Did Alicia know about adoptions? If she did, maybe she could talk to Giselle, help her understand it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get the answers she wanted.

“I’m assuming her birth father’s name wasn’t listed or is a dead end?” Alicia asked.

He nodded. “Dead end.”

“But surely you have the name of the biological mother on Giselle’s birth certificate?” Her head tilted to one side as she studied him. “You were a police officer. You must have a lot of contacts. Couldn’t someone track the name?”

He didn’t want to answer but Alicia kept waiting.

“I did track her.” Jack sighed. “Two years after the adoption, Giselle’s birth mother disappeared. There’s no trace of her.” Oddly, it felt good to discuss this with her.

“What about Laurel? Surely as a former social worker, your sister could—”

“Social workers are provincial employees,” he explained. “Laurel never worked in that province.”

“I see.” Alicia fell silent, apparently lost in thought.

“Can I ask you something?” Jack waited until she nodded. “How do you know about adoptions? You said you were never adopted so—” He let it hang, his curiosity about her growing.

“I wasn’t.” Her gaze moved to one side, avoiding his. “I, um, for a long time I’ve been looking for someone who was adopted. But the clues I had led to dead ends. I don’t have connections like you do so I don’t know where to look next.”

“My connections weren’t much help,” Jack told her. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper he’d been carrying around since his last day of work. “But this might be. Someone gave me this website address. They said it’s been helpful to others. It wasn’t for me, but you’re welcome to copy the address and check it out.”

“I, um, don’t have a pen or paper,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“I do.” Jack pulled out the small pad and pen he always kept in his breast pocket and held them out. “Old habit from my detective days.” Surprisingly she didn’t take, either. “You already know about this site?”

“No.” Her cheeks darkened. “This is embarrassing. You see, I have really bad eyesight and my glasses are in the bag you put up top. Would you mind copying it out for me?”

“I can get the bag,” he offered, shifting to rise.

“No, no. Don’t stir yourself.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ll wake up someone.” She jerked her hand away. “If you could write it down for me, I’d be grateful.”

“Sure. Okay.” He scribbled down the web address, tore out the sheet and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Alicia studied it for a moment then folded it and tucked it into her jeans pocket. “I’ll take a look when I get home.”

“I hope it helps.”

When Alicia merely smiled at him before turning her face to the window, Jack understood that was all the conversation she wanted for now. Suited him. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get too friendly. He checked on Giselle then pulled his e-reader from the seat pocket in front and flicked it on.

But the novel couldn’t hold Jack’s interest. Instead he got hung up thinking about the woman next to him. There was something about Alicia Featherstone that intrigued him and it wasn’t only her quick rush to defend God.

Though she’d been friendly enough, she had a quality about her that said no trespassing. She seemed to not need anyone else. Self-contained, that was it.

Jack couldn’t help wondering why. Alicia was lovely to look at, had a nice figure and ran her own independent business. She appeared to have her life together. And yet when she’d crashed into him earlier, she’d jerked back, ready to protect herself. He remembered how she’d ordered him to let go of her arm. She’d tensed—an automatic response to a perceived threat.

Because she’d had to defend herself before?

As he’d told Laurel, Jack wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. But his detective background made Alicia’s almost bristling reaction interesting, as had her response when he’d asked if she had kids. Suddenly Jack could think of a hundred questions to ask the lovely Indian woman.

She’s nothing to do with you. You and Giselle are on your own. Even if you could forget what you and Simone shared, are you really willing to risk loving again and losing again?

No.

In a rush, the lost, empty feeling he’d battled for two long years returned. He’d barely survived the pain of Simone’s death and that was only because of Giselle, because he was determined not to lose her, too.

Alicia Featherstone might become his coworker on the kids’ project, but that’s all she could ever be. He would not contemplate loving and losing again.

Jack twisted in his seat so his back was to Alicia. He forced himself to read the words on his screen. But despite his best intentions, every so often his glance slipped to the silent woman in the seat next to his.

Though he was tired, sleep evaded him.

Given his curiosity about Alicia Featherstone, he should probably refuse to work with her. But he wasn’t going to. He had too many questions that demanded answers.

Chapter Three

Alicia awoke feeling watched.

Sure enough, when she peeked through her lashes she found a dark brown gaze fixed on her. Self-conscious and disheveled, she swallowed and tried to think of what to say to Jack’s daughter.

“You snore.” Giselle flopped into the seat her father had obviously vacated while Alicia was asleep. “Delicately, but still. It’s snoring.”

“Good morning.” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “My name is Alicia Featherstone. And you’re Giselle, I understand. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” The girl flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I guess that was rude.”

Ignoring her unrepentant stare, Alicia said nothing. She pulled a brush from her purse, undid her braids and combed out her hair before swirling it into a topknot on her head.

“Sorry.” Giselle didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

“I hear you’re moving to Churchill,” Alicia said, cutting her some slack.

“So Jack says.” The chip on Giselle’s shoulder was huge.

“Jack?” Alicia tamped down her irritation at this cheeky child.

“Well, I can’t really call him Dad, now can I?” Giselle snapped in a sour tone.

“Why not?” Spoiled, Alicia thought to herself.

Yet her heart ached for the confused girl. Giselle’s world had been rocked, first by her mom’s death and then by learning nothing she’d believed about her family was true. Moving away from all that was familiar couldn’t be easy, either.

“Jack hasn’t been your dad for all these years?” she asked gently.

“Yes.” Giselle whooshed out a breath that blew her bangs all over. “He has. He’s been a really good father and I love him a lot. That’s why this is so hard. He lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Giselle.” Jack stood in the aisle. His face conveyed his hurt.

“Lied by omission then.” She jumped up and held out a hand. “Can I have some money to buy breakfast?”

“I guess I’m your father enough for that, huh?” Jack muttered with a sideways glance at his daughter. She simply shrugged. He transferred the two cups he carried into one hand then fished several bills out of his shirt pocket and handed them over. Giselle flounced away. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he muttered, staring longingly at her departing figure.

“Preteen. It’s a horrible age,” Alicia consoled. “She’ll get over it.”

“Soon, I hope.” He held out a lidded cup. “Coffee. I figured you could use some. You look great, but it wasn’t the most restful night I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the cup, freezing for a moment when his warm fingers brushed hers. “Maybe I’m used to these chairs because I’ve ridden the train so often.”

“To get your store stock?”

“Uh-huh. The sleeper cars are always booked far in advance. Since I’m never sure when I’ll be on the train, I always sleep in the chairs,” she explained. “I don’t mind traveling at this time of year. The landscape is amazing. Seeing spring arrive from the train is far more interesting than watching snow drift in winter.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich dark flavor. “Thank you for this.”

“Sure. My sister told me about a project you’re planning for her Lives boys. That’s what locals call her rehabilitation center, right?”

“Yes.” Alicia nodded. “It’s a shortened version of Lives Under Construction, which we use to refer to the army barracks she’s renovated, the outbuildings and all the land around.”

“I thought so.” Jack sat down, stretching his legs in front. “So—a sod house, right? Laurel asked me to help.”

“She did?” Alicia stared at him. “I didn’t know that.” She shook her head, uneasy at the prospect of having Jack nearby, watching her. “You don’t have to bother. We’ll manage. The boys are very responsible.”

“I’m sure they are. But I promised and I don’t break my promises to Laurel, ever. She’s the older sister and she makes me pay,” he teased. Then a frown flickered across his face. “It sounds like you don’t want my help.”

“It’s not that.” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to rephrase the truth.

“Don’t worry, Alicia. I know how to take directions.” He chuckled when she couldn’t mask her dubious expression. “I’ll help, but the hotel will have to come first.” He tipped his head to one side, studying her. “How did you come up with the sod house idea anyway?”

“From a display I saw.” She leaned her back against the window to put as much distance between them as possible. She would have moved across the aisle if Giselle hadn’t left her things scattered over both seats.

Oddly enough, Jack’s nearness didn’t make Alicia feel unsafe and it wasn’t just that he was a cop and also Laurel’s brother. Jack was still grieving for his wife. She couldn’t imagine he was the type to try to take advantage of her here on a public train. But mostly she wasn’t worried because he’d emphasized that he intended to remain single.

Still, his nearness caused a nervousness deep inside her that Alicia didn’t understand.

“What kind of a display?” Jack asked.

“It was held inside a caribou tent and it was amazing.” She tried to explain but cut it short when his eyes began to glaze. “Anyway, the presenters were descendants of an original settlement family. Their elder told stories about how their ancestors built sod houses to live in. I thought it would be fun to build one as a summer project for the boys. Kyle Loness—he’s the activities director at Lives—and Rick Salinger, our minister, have both promised to help.”

“Sounds interesting. Do you have a book about it, or plans?” Jack asked.

“No,” Alicia answered, slewing her eyes to the window, though there was nothing unusual in the muskeg pushing up to reveal the permafrost beneath. “All I have is a rough sketch an elder drew for me.”

“Well, I guess you could get the library to order some books.” Jack savored his coffee, his face thoughtful. “You can’t just go out and start digging. You’ll need some kind of plan.”

Alicia gulped, because that was exactly what she’d intended to do—start digging as soon as the town allocated the land. Now she realized how silly that was. Of course they would need a plan. Houses were built in stages.

Rattled by the thought of being asked to consult a book, she knew she’d have to be careful or else Jack and the rest of Churchill would discover she couldn’t read very well. Her mother had tried to teach her when their remote village lost its teacher, but her English hadn’t been great. When she’d been moved to Vancouver, Alicia had struggled and failed to catch up.

“Since you’ll be helping us, perhaps you wouldn’t mind contacting the library,” she said, crossing her fingers that he’d accept.

“I guess I could.” His forehead furrowed, he plied her with questions.

Alicia answered as best she could but his proximity unnerved her. She was grateful when Giselle finally returned.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask this.” The girl stood in the aisle, leaning against the seat in front. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”

Jack choked on his coffee then glared at Giselle, clearly aggravated by her impudence.

“Native Canadian Indian, yes.” Alicia held her gaze as she said the words proudly, refusing to back down. “Why?”

“One of my teachers said you often have names that have special meanings.”

“You’re asking if Alicia is a traditional Native name?” she said.

“Yes, like Piapot.” Giselle frowned. “Do you know what that name means?”

“One who knows the secrets of the Sioux.” She hid her smile as Giselle’s eyes brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m just plain Alicia Featherstone.”

“Well, at least you have Featherstone, though I don’t know what meaning that could have. Feathers and stones are complete opposites,” Giselle complained.

“Sorry.” Alicia hid her smile. “If you’re interested in learning about Chief Piapot, every Thursday night I lead a campfire at Lives. I tell the boys stories of Native history. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks.” Giselle’s smile lit up her face. She returned to her seat across the aisle. Moments later she was busy on her pink cell phone.

“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “Sometimes I have no clue what will come out of her mouth. I’m not sure she does, either.”

Alicia burst out laughing. “Forget it. That in-your-face attitude is what makes kids so refreshing.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily. “Hey, we’re slowing down.”

“Yes. We’ll arrive in Churchill soon.” She smiled. “Did I ever thank you for rescuing my packages?”

“I wouldn’t want Tansi’s stock to go missing.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know much about your kind of business, but Laurel says you’re doing very well. Have you ever considered expanding? There’s a much bigger market outside of Churchill that could use some education about your culture.”

Warmth exploded inside her. At last, someone who thought like her. She gazed at Jack with admiration.

“I dream about having a second store, maybe in Winnipeg, but I haven’t worked out how to do it.” Alicia hesitated, realizing she’d just shared her dream with a total stranger, a dream no one else knew about. Why was it so easy to talk to Jack?

Just as quickly her excitement drained away. There was no point in thinking about future expansion with him or anyone else. People like her with no sources of funding didn’t have second or third stores. And now that Mr. Parcet was asking questions about her, it was only a matter of time before he’d show up to get information. He wasn’t going to get it from her, of course, but she had to put her dreams on hold and concentrate on making sure her son was safe before Mr. Parcet found her.

How do I do that, God, when I don’t know where he is?

Alicia stared out the window, lost in ways and means she might employ. The first thing would be to talk to the social worker she’d been assigned when she was fifteen and had given up her son. What was her name? Mrs. End-something. Endecott? Enderby? Endersley, that was it. She silently repeated the name to fix it in her mind.

“I want to talk to Alicia, Dad. Can we change seats for a while?”

Alicia blinked out of her thoughts and found Jack studying her. He raised one eyebrow.

“Do you mind speaking with Giselle?” he said. “It’s okay if you’d rather rest.”

“She’s not old, Dad. She doesn’t have to rest.” Scorn laced Giselle’s shrill tone.

“Actually I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours and I am a bit tired, Jack.” Alicia smiled at him, deliberately cutting Giselle out of the conversation. She felt sorry for the child, but she wanted to make a point to Giselle to curb her attitude.

“I’m sorry.” Giselle was a quick study. She looked remorseful as she shook her head. “You must be exhausted. It’s just that I’m curious about those stories you mentioned. Will you tell me more?”

Wasn’t her life goal to bring awareness and knowledge to the world about her culture? Alicia nodded. “I guess we could talk for a while, if your father is agreeable.”

“As long as you are.” Jack waited for Alicia’s nod. He gave her a quizzical smile before he rose and moved across the aisle.

Giselle sat down in the seat he vacated. She fiddled with her hands for a few moments before she looked at Alicia. “My mother would have been furious if she’d heard me be rude,” she admitted.

“And you want to get back at her for dying, or something?” Alicia frowned.

“No.” Giselle shook her head.

“Your father then?” And here she’d thought preteens would be easy to understand. Alicia took a shot anyway. “You blame your dad.”

“For Mom’s death?” Giselle frowned and shook her head again. “I don’t blame him but—”

“You want him to pay,” Alicia said in sudden understanding.

“I want my life back the way it was,” the girl said fiercely with a sideways glance at her dad, who had his nose buried between two black covers. “I want my mom.”

“I know you do. But that isn’t going to happen, Giselle, and I think you know it.” Alicia kept her tone gentle. “I doubt your dad likes the way things are any better than you, but don’t forget he lost someone, too. I’m sure he’s doing the very best he can.”

“It’s not enough.” Tears filled Giselle’s dark eyes. “Aunt Laurel says I need to talk to God about it, but I’m mad at God, too.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and thrust out her chin. “I feel mad at just about everyone.”

“I understand.” Alicia laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Maybe this won’t help much right now, but things will get better. Eventually. God has wonderful things planned for you.”

“You think?” Giselle stared at her, her big brown eyes begging for confirmation.

“I know. There’s a verse in Psalms that I sometimes repeat to myself. It says, ‘Weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning.’”

“My mom had something like that written in one of her diaries,” Giselle murmured. She was silent for a long time before she brushed away a tear and rose. “I really do want to hear your stories, Alicia, but maybe you and I could talk another time. Excuse me.” Then she scooted across the aisle.

“I don’t know what you said,” Jack said when he eventually returned to the seat beside Alicia. “But thank you. Giselle apologized to me.”

“Don’t thank me. You have a lovely daughter.” Alicia shared a smile with him, but it lasted a second too long and that made her stomach clench. This man had an odd effect on her and she didn’t know why. She ducked away from his gaze. “We’re coming into the station,” she said. “Would you mind giving me my things you put up top? I’ll pull out my sweater and try to stuff the packages into the backpack so you can have your bag back.”

“Keep it. You can return it next time we see each other,” he said. Once the train stopped, Jack rose, lifted down her bags and handed them to her. “I’m looking forward to working with you on that sod house, Alicia.” His blue gaze sent a tiny spark wiggling up her spine.

“Me, too.” Funny thing was she meant it.

Alicia stepped off the train and quickly made her way through the station and outside, anxious to get away from Jack’s disturbing presence so she could figure out her odd reaction. A soft spring wind blew across her skin, chasing away the odd tremors she’d felt when she stood so close to him. The fresh air revitalized her. How wonderful to come home.

Then she remembered. Mr. Parcet.

After a furtive glance over one shoulder Alicia hurried toward her shop, checking every so often to be sure he wasn’t nearby. Of course he wasn’t, she chastised herself. He hadn’t been on the train. But the worry clung nonetheless.

It was silly, but Alicia gave a sigh of relief as she unlocked the store door and stepped safely inside. She turned the sign to Open, switched on the lights and then strode to the back, where she set down the bag Jack had lent her.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment above the shop, pausing to toss her backpack into her bedroom and wash the tiredness from her face. After snatching a carton of juice and a muffin from the fridge, she hurried downstairs, eager to unpack her wares. She forced herself to eat slowly as anticipation built about the treasures she’d picked up on her trip.

Alicia had barely removed the first box when the door opened.

“Giselle and I are going out to Lives tonight for supper,” Jack said, holding up his phone. “Laurel says you’re welcome, too.”

“That’s kind of you but perhaps another time,” Alicia declined.

“Okay. See you.” Jack raised his hand in a wave then left as quickly as he’d come. Alicia ignored her accelerated heartbeat as she dragged her gaze off his retreating figure.

What was wrong with her?

After one last sip of juice she washed her hands, then tenderly pushed away the protective tissue paper so she could lift out the first treasure. In her palms she cradled the chiseled figure of a woman with a baby papoose strapped to her back. Mother and child. Alicia let her mind drift back almost ten years.

Her son. Even now the scent of him returned, soft, sweet, a miracle. Tiny, delicate limbs, so small yet so perfectly formed. Her heart hiccupped as she remembered one pink finger reaching up to brush her cheek, as if he knew who she was, as if he was asking her to rethink her decision to give him away.

Tears rolled over her cheeks as the sadness Alicia had kept tamped down would no longer stay buried. She hated everything that brought him into being, but she’d never hated him. She couldn’t. He was beautiful, innocent and so full of promise. He didn’t deserve hate. He deserved love, a chance to push his way into the world, to prove that everything was not dirty and evil and messed up. He deserved happiness. Alicia had known she couldn’t give him that.

“Alicia?” Jack stood in the doorway again, staring at her. How was it she hadn’t heard the tinkle of the bell signaling the opening door?

She turned away, scrubbed a hand across her cheek then set the figure carefully in the box before she looked at him. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” he asked in that already familiar low, rumbling voice.

“Fine. Just touched by the beauty of this piece.” She glanced at the sculpture, then folded her hands together lest he see their trembling. “Is there something you need?”

He cleared his voice but said nothing. His scrutiny continued. Finally she forced herself to look directly at him.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think it’ll take me at least a week of steady focus on the hotel before I can even think about working on the sod house.” He sounded hesitant. Was he regretting his offer of help?

“That’s fine,” she said to give him an out. “It’s only May. The kids won’t be finished school until the end of June anyway. There’s plenty of time.”

“Oh.” His blue eyes searched hers with an intensity she couldn’t stand.

Alicia rushed to remove the other boxes from the mesh bag. Then she walked toward him, holding it out. “Thanks for lending me this.”

“You’re welcome.” He took the bag from her. “I know it’s none of my business and this probably isn’t the time, but I’ve been wondering how you first came to Churchill.”

“I came here looking for someone,” she said after a moment of quick thought. She could hardly tell him she’d been following a lead Nancy’s private investigator had found regarding her child. It didn’t matter anyway. “I didn’t find them.”

“But you stayed anyway?” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“After some persuasion.” She needed to frame her words carefully so she didn’t give too much away. “Do you know Lucy Clow?”

“Small woman, white-haired? She and her husband were missionaries to the Inuit?” he muttered, his forehead pleated. “I think she helps Laurel’s cook at Lives sometimes.”

“Lucy helps everyone, whether they want it or not,” Alicia said with a grin. “Anyway, an older couple owned this store, but they wanted to take a trip to see their son in Australia. Lucy was their bookkeeper. She suggested I help here until they returned. She showed me how things worked and got them to fix up the rooms above for me to live in.”

Her home. Alicia still savored the small sanctuary she’d found. But she could hardly tell him that.

“So they didn’t come back?” Jack drawled.

“Oh, yes. But just long enough to pack. They moved to be near their son. The community didn’t want the store to close because it was such a good tourist stop. Since the owners wanted to leave, they and the community worked out a no-interest loan for me to buy the store.” She fiddled with an arrangement on a side table. “A couple of friends staked me and Lucy helped me fill out government grant forms. And here I am.” She held out her arms. “This is my third year running Tansi.”

“Good for you.” Jack kept staring at her for a long time. Alicia shifted under that intense stare, relieved when he checked his watch. “Giselle will kill me. I told her I’d be back with the truck to pick up our stuff. That was ages ago. See you.”

Alicia nodded and held a smile in place until the door closed behind him. Then she let out a sigh and pushed away all tantalizing thoughts of the handsome policeman as she continued unpacking her treasures in between clients.

When her last customer had left, she went into the back room and started the coffeemaker. She glanced at the wall clock and sent a quiet prayer heavenward for Nancy and Harold Runningbear. They’d taught her to tell time and do basic addition and subtraction. Without them...she wouldn’t think about that. But even Nancy hadn’t been able to teach her to read or write beyond the most basic level. Alicia was sure it was because there was something wrong with her.

If only...

Alicia shook off the nagging thoughts. More than anyone, she knew how pointless it was to wish the past had never happened.

Focusing her mind on her work, she noticed it was almost three o’clock. Eli, a boy from Lives Under Construction who helped out at Tansi after school, would arrive in about twenty minutes. Alicia needed to decide what she wanted on the tags for her new items so he could write them up, which meant she’d have to think of another excuse for not doing it herself. Being illiterate was bad enough, but keeping it a secret was even harder. And she had to keep it under wraps, or else she’d risk becoming the town’s laughingstock or activate worry that she might not be able to repay the community loan.

She regretted now that she’d let someone else do her homework in school, that she’d allowed herself to believe that quitting school to live on the streets was an option. When Nancy and Harold had taken her in, they’d helped her see she could start over, make something of her life. But Mr. Parcet’s attack had made returning to the special literacy classes impossible. She hadn’t been able to go back there, couldn’t be anywhere near him or any other man without panicking. Then she’d learned she was pregnant.

How ironic that she still thought of him as Mr., a respect unworthy of him. But to think of him otherwise was to admit he had a personal part in her life. Alicia couldn’t allow that. Nor could she again relive those terror-filled moments.

She wasn’t that dumb fifteen-year-old girl anymore. Look how far she’d come in ten years. She had her own business to run. She had a life. She was stronger and more determined than ever. She could figure out a way to protect her child, too. Somehow.

Alicia picked up the picture Lucy Clow had left on her desk. Sweet Lucy did the books for Alicia’s business but she also ran the store whenever Alicia was away. Though Lucy and her husband, Hector, were retired missionaries to the Inuit, they were by no means retired. Lucy acted as part-time church secretary, frequently helped out at Lives Under Construction and stepped in anywhere else in Churchill where she saw a need.

In Alicia, Lucy obviously saw a need. Though Alicia had never confessed, Lucy seemed to know that Alicia couldn’t read much and she made allowances. One of those allowances was the pictures she left for Alicia, to apprise her of something. This one seemed to be saying that Jim Deerfoot had more antler carvings to sell. That was good because Alicia’s stock was low.

Lucy’s presence at Tansi yesterday meant that everything in the store had been thoroughly dusted, the sales records updated and the storeroom organized in extreme detail. Tomorrow Lucy would stop by and explain the accounts, what had sold, what was in the bank. It was her assistance that kept Tansi in the black. Lucy was like a revered grandmother in Alicia’s heart. Alicia adored the sprightly woman whose faith in God held strong and firm in the face of hardship.

Lucy had even made the upstairs apartment glow. The woman loved to clean and organize. She’d done such a good job while Alicia was away that all she needed was a few groceries. She’d just finished making a mental list when Eli sauntered in.

“Hey,” she greeted. “How are you?”

“Awesome.” Eli’s attention immediately honed in on the items she’d brought with her. “These rock,” he said, bending to inspect each one. “Like totally sick.”

“Sick?” Alarmed, Alicia stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sick, as in great, Alicia,” he said in a droll tone.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you like them.” Once he’d stored his backpack, she explained what she wanted him to create for the tags on each item. “Make them special, okay? You’re a genius when it comes to writing these tags,” she praised, “so I know you’ll do a totally sick job.” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. “I have to get groceries. My fridge is empty.”

“Go ahead. Let this genius get to work.” Eli flexed his fingers, pulled out his label supplies, then stopped. “Did you know there’s a new girl staying at the hotel? She looks like a cover model.”

“I met her on the train. Her name is Giselle Campbell. She moved here with her father, Jack, who bought the Northern Lights Lodge,” Alicia explained. “Laurel is her aunt.”

“Think she’ll join our youth choir?” Eli asked in an awestruck voice. “We could use some more girls, especially ones who look like her.”

“You could always ask her.” She picked up her purse.

“Alicia?”

“Yes?” She studied the boy, noting the change of tone in his voice.

“When’s your next haircutting day? I think it’s time for me to spruce up,” Eli said.

“Soon.” She hid her smile as she slid the strap of her bag over one shoulder. Clearly Eli wanted to make an impression on the newcomer. She turned around to leave but had to stop suddenly because Jack stood in front of her. “Oh, hello. Again.”

“Hi.” His gaze moved from her to Eli and back. “You do haircutting?”

“Only for the boys at Lives, and only if they want me to,” she said, slightly embarrassed by his intense scrutiny. “A friend of mine in Vancouver taught me the basics. She’s a hairdresser and runs a homeless shelter. She gives haircuts to anyone who wants one. I don’t have my license, but since a hairdresser only comes to Churchill every three or four months, I help out if someone asks. Laurel asked.”

“I see.” Were those piercing blue eyes more intense?

“Can I help you?” she asked when the silence stretched out too long.

“You’re busy.” Jack was acting very odd, as if he had something on his mind but was afraid to say it.

“Just going for groceries,” Alicia explained. “Oh, this is Eli Long. He works for me. Eli, this is Mr. Campbell, from the lodge. Laurel’s brother and Giselle’s father,” she added.

“Hi.” Eli waved to Jack, then, as if he too sensed Jack’s tension, got to work.

“Do you need something?” Alicia asked again.

“Maybe,” Jack muttered. He shuffled his amazing shoes then looked at her. “Yes, please,” he said in a firm voice. “I need your help.”

“Sure.” Alicia nodded. “With what?”

“With whom,” he corrected. His gaze slid to Eli. “Giselle. I, er, did something—”

“Why don’t we walk while you tell me?” she said, realizing that he didn’t want to speak in front of Eli. She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind them. As Jack walked beside her down the street, her pulse began to thrum at his closeness. “Well?”

“How about I treat you to coffee?”

“If you add a doughnut, I’ll agree,” she teased.

But Jack didn’t smile. He simply nodded and began walking toward Common Grounds, a coffee shop down the street from Alicia’s store. Sensing he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, she caught up, saying nothing until they were seated with their coffee and doughnuts in front of them.

Jack’s silence unsettled her. She needed to get him talking. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d need to hurry him a bit. Today was early closing at the Northern Store because of inventory taking. Grocery shopping and a decent dinner might have to wait till tomorrow.

Finally, without looking up at her, Jack spoke.

“Giselle’s run away.”

Chapter Four

Jack felt like a fool.

He’d been a father for eleven years, yet the small, dark-haired beauty who had called him dad until recently still had the ability to tie him in knots. He saw Alicia struggling not to smile and glared at her.

“It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is,” she said. “This is Churchill, Jack. There’s no place to run. Unless she got on the train before it left?” Her smile faded as she studied him with concern.

“No, the train left before our big blowup,” he told her.

“Then she’s around town somewhere.”

“She’s on her way to Laurel’s, and she says she’s not coming back.” He raked a hand through his hair, feeling helpless and a bit foolish. “I can’t have her living out there, Alicia. There are six boys there. I don’t care how sweet my sister says they are. My daughter is not staying at Lives with them. Anyway, even if I’d allow it, there’s no room.” He groaned. “This is a nightmare.”

“Hardly.” Alicia leaned back in her chair and studied him. “What was the argument about?”

“Her room.” He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t let her see how much Giselle’s rejection of his surprise hurt.

“Her bedroom?” Alicia’s dark eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong with it?”

“According to her, everything.” Jack shrugged helplessly. “I had it professionally decorated as a surprise. I wanted to make it feel like home.” He gave in to defeat. “Giselle hates it. She says I’m treating her like an infant, acts like I deliberately tried to offend her. I was trying to show how much I love her, how much I want her to be happy here.”

Alicia studied him with that dark impenetrable stare for so long that frustration nipped at him. He should never have listened to Laurel’s suggestion that he ask for Alicia’s help. He accepted that his sister couldn’t rush to his rescue. Besides, he wanted her there to meet Giselle when she arrived. But he suspected this was the first of Laurel’s attempts at matchmaking.

“Never mind,” he said, pushing his chair back and rising. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll figure out something.” Like what? his brain demanded. You can’t even figure out what the issue is with Giselle. Ignoring the inner voice, he turned to leave.

“I think you have the right idea.” Alicia rose, asked the server for two take-out cups and a paper bag for their doughnuts.

“What are you doing?” Females. Jack had never felt more at a loss.

“Going with you to the scene of the crime. Maybe if I see the room, I can understand Giselle’s anger. At the moment I’m at a total loss.” Alicia held the cups and the bag. “Shall we?” she asked.

“I guess.” Jack took the cups from her and followed her out of the café.

When they reached his hotel he led her inside, wondering why he held his breath as she studied the lobby where workmen were putting together the finishing touches. Was her approval so important?

“It’s lovely, Jack. Rustic but not overdone. Very comfortable. Homey. Your guests will enjoy this.” She smiled at him as she slid her fingertips over the rough stone of the fireplace.

“I used the same interior designer for Giselle’s room,” he complained.

“Maybe girls’ bedrooms aren’t her forte,” Alicia murmured. “But hotel lobbies certainly are. Which way?”

“Follow me.” Jack led the way to their private quarters, set their take-out cups down on a hall table, then opened the door to Giselle’s room. When Alicia didn’t immediately comment, he turned to study her.

His heart sank as Alicia’s mouth formed a perfect O.

“What?” Jack shifted uncomfortably. All he could see was sweetness and love for his baby girl. What was so terrible about that?

“Oh, dear.” Alicia set down the bag with the doughnuts, grabbed one of the cups and sank into a puffy pink chair inside the bedroom door. After another moment of looking around she took a long drink and sighed. “Oh, my.”

“Will you stop saying that and tell me what I did wrong?” Jack bellowed. “Sorry,” he said when he realized the harshness of his tone. “I didn’t mean to bark at you, but what’s wrong with this?”

“Where to start?” Alicia leaned back in the chair. “It’s so...pink.”

“Giselle’s a girl,” he said in his own defense. “And she likes pink.”

“So do I. At least I used to.” Alicia took another drink.

“Say what you need to,” he growled, knowing he wouldn’t like it.

“It’s—it’s like a pink fuzzy nest, for a baby chick or a bunny,” she sputtered, then leaned back, as if she was afraid he’d explode.

And Jack felt like it. All the time he’d wasted, all the work, all the money—none of which mattered a whit if his daughter hated being here.

He’d failed her. The lump in his throat grew.

“These stuffed toys.” Alicia flicked a finger over the bunnies and elephants and giraffes.

“Giselle likes stuffed toys,” he defended.

“Yes, but the floor, the bedspread, the lamp, the ceiling light—” She cleared her throat. “It’s a room for a very young girl, Jack,” she said quietly. “I doubt it’s the kind of room a girl Giselle’s age dreams of and I’m guessing that’s what you want.”

“It’s a lot like her room was in Vancouver.” Jack hated being on the defensive. He’d done this because of Giselle’s complaints about having to relocate to a new, unfamiliar room in Churchill. How had he got it so wrong? “You mean she wants something more grown-up?”

“In my humble opinion, yes.” Alicia looked relieved that he understood. “Did you tell your designer Giselle’s age?”

“I can’t remember.” He frowned, trying to recall. “There were so many details with the hotel, so many things I never even thought of. I’m clueless about hotel management, but Laurel convinced me I could run this place with Teddy’s instruction.” He closed his eyes, pushed away the irritation and frustration and thought about it. “I think I said I wanted a special room for my little girl.” He glanced around. “I guess that’s what I got.”

“You did. But Giselle isn’t a little girl anymore.” Alicia’s gentle voice soothed his hurt feelings. “Part of the process of losing her mom has pushed Giselle to grow up. She’s trying to figure out how to become an adult.”

“And this room can’t help her do that?” Deflated, he scanned the fripperies he’d been so sure Giselle would love.

“Let’s just say it’s not an almost-teen room.” He could hear how carefully she chose her words and appreciated her gentleness.

“Okay.” Jack let go of his disappointment. “How do I get it that way? Because my daughter is not going to live at Lives Under Construction.”

“You want my help?” Alicia’s brown eyes widened. Jack nodded, his brain noting in passing how pretty she was. She glanced around, then swiveled her gaze back to him. “This might hurt.”

Did she think he was a wimp?

“I’m tough,” he said, straightening his spine. “Go for it.”

Jack kept his face stoic when she asked him to fetch two garbage bags. He remained resolute when she loaded all but two of the soft velvet toys and stuffed animals into the bags. He didn’t even wince when Alicia carefully removed the frilly lace-edged lamps or asked his help to get down the flouncy curtains that blocked the view of Hudson Bay. But when she lifted the ruffled pink spread from the bed, he choked.

“That cost a fortune,” he muttered.

Alicia simply raised one eyebrow.

“Go ahead,” he groaned, holding the bag while she stuffed it inside. The room looked bare and unwelcoming. “Now what?” he demanded.

“Can I look around your lodge?” Alicia caught her long glossy hair in her hand and twisted it into some kind of knot on her head. She pinned it in place, then said thoughtfully, “There may be some things that we could use to help this room. Otherwise, you’ll have to order stuff in and that could take days.”

He didn’t have days. He wanted his daughter home where he could keep her safe.

“Take whatever you need,” Jack told her. He followed her through the hotel. A picture of wildflowers by a local artist graced the area behind the front desk. “Giselle helped me pick that out. She’s got a thing about wildflowers.” His heart took a dive as Alicia studied the painting, then looked at him. “You want that for her room. What do I put in its place?”

“Something else,” she said quietly. Her gaze met his unflinchingly. This was not a woman who gave up easily. Actually, Jack appreciated that.

And so it went. Alicia ordered all the pink furniture removed from the room. She chose an armoire from a guest suite to house Giselle’s television, and bedside lamps from his room.

“But I picked those out specially,” he argued.

“For your daughter,” Alicia reminded him. She raised one eyebrow. “Right?”

What could he do but nod to one of the workers who followed, collecting whatever Alicia chose? Jack’s estimation of her abilities rose with every choice she made. A mirror and a silvery gray padded headboard drew everything together—fresh, young, not at all babyish.

The final result stunned him. Alicia had managed to capture Giselle’s essence and she’d only just met his daughter. Jack looked at her in awe. He’d never guess this quiet, almost solemn woman who’d sat beside him on the train had so much insight.

“What goes there?” He pointed to the only bare wall in the room, hoping she had a solution. The pink walls now seemed like nothing more than a canvas to showcase all the new furnishings. Except for that wall. If left the way it was, Jack had a feeling Giselle wouldn’t accept the room.

“You said she likes wildflowers?” Alicia asked, tapping a finger against her bottom lip as she studied him.

“She collects pictures of them.” A sense of relief filled him. How was it he knew this amazing woman would find a solution?

“You’ll suspect I did all this to sell you something,” she warned. “But I have three perfect watercolors of local wildflowers in my store—one of white mountain avens, one of purple paintbrush and one of local orchids.”

“Orchids? Here?” Jack suspected she was joking, but Alicia didn’t smile.

“Yes, here, though they rely on special fungi on the ground instead of growing in trees like in the tropics. The only thing is the paintings aren’t framed. I wonder...” She wasted only a moment before stepping into the hallway and motioning for him to follow. “Can we use those frames?” she asked, indicating an arrangement on the wall.

His beautiful lodge looked as if it had been ransacked. But if Jack had to choose between it and Giselle there was no contest. Still...

“We couldn’t buy some frames locally?”

“That kind of thing is shipped in,” she said. “Takes time.”

Jack gave in. “Go get your watercolors while I take those down.”

“I’ll be right back.” Alicia grinned. “You’re such a dad,” she teased, smiling at him.

She left and Jack sat down on the poofy chair, which now looked absolutely perfect with its pale green throw. He let his eyes wander through the room. It was perfect for Giselle. His gaze rested on the black desk beneath the window that waited for her to spread out her homework. His girl loved black furniture. He’d refused to buy it before, but somehow Alicia had made it an integral part of this retreat.

How had she known? Was it a female thing or did she have some knowledge of young girls? Who was Alicia Featherstone? Jack’s brain hummed with questions. She was so different from the career women he’d known in Vancouver. He definitely wanted to know more about her.

Alicia burst into the room, breathless, with Eli trailing her, carrying the art.

“I brought along a couple of other things I thought might help give a Northern flavor. You don’t have to keep them if you don’t want.” Alicia set a sculpture on the bedside table. “This brown bear is made completely of acorn husks applied to wood with local seeds.”

“Giselle will love it. It looks like intricate work.” He scanned the attached card, which told about the significance of brown bears in Native culture.

“This is a soapstone carving of a seal, a polar bear’s idea of a gourmet dinner.” She set it on the desk. “And this is a wampum belt. The Cree once used these to record family events. Giselle seemed quite interested in Native culture. I thought she could make the belt tell her story.” She laid it over the back of the desk chair.

Amazed that Alicia had considered such detail, Jack could only watch as Eli framed the watercolors and hung them on the wall.

“Somehow this room looks exactly like her,” Jack said with satisfaction when Alicia set the hot-pink phone on the desk. “I think Giselle will like this. A lot.”

“I hope so.” Alicia waved a hand as Eli left to return to the store. “I hope I haven’t ruined your hotel. And if she doesn’t like it, I’m happy to take back my stuff. I just—”

Was she nervous?

“Alicia.” Jack reached out and smoothed the furrow on her forehead, marveling that she already felt like a good friend. At least she would have felt like that if she hadn’t jerked back from his touch. He pretended not to notice. “I don’t know how you did it, but my daughter is going to be ecstatic over this room. I can’t thank you enough.”

She looked at him a long time before the worry faded from her eyes and the twinkle returned. She chuckled.

“Be warned. When we get going on the sod house, you’ll probably wish you’d never asked for my help.”

If this room got his girl back home, Jack doubted he’d ever regret asking Alicia anything. Alicia Featherstone was a wonder woman.

He felt bemused by the many facets of this amazing woman. Business owner, haircutter, room decorator. He could hardly wait to find out what else Alicia could do. Her Native beauty was refreshing and stunning yet she seemed totally unaware of it. That intrigued him.

Though his brain sent up a warning, Jack ignored it. Friendship wasn’t off-limits and he had a hunch Alicia could become a good friend.

More than that he would not allow.

* * *

“I’m glad you could join us for dinner, Alicia,” Laurel said as she took a seat beside her. “You know you’re always welcome at Lives.”

“Thanks. I’m glad, too,” Alicia told her with a grin. “I didn’t have time to get to the grocery store so my fridge is bare. This is way better than anything I’d make.” She smiled at Giselle, who’d been watching her closely ever since she and Jack had arrived with Eli.

“I’ll say grace and then we can eat.” Laurel began to pray.

During the meal, Alicia was glad for the busy chatter of the boys talking about their day. That took away some of her nervousness about sitting next to Jack. With Giselle glaring at her dad and Jack mostly silent, there was an underlying tension in the room, but only to those in the know. Otherwise, it felt just like a family meal. Kids laughing, talking—she’d always wanted that at her dinner table.

“It’s getting warmer and lighter every day, Alicia.” Eli’s gray eyes glowed. “We should be able to start on the sod house soon.” He was part Cree and anything to do with his mother’s culture intrigued him, which was why he’d asked to work in Alicia’s store.

“Do you have a start date, Alicia?” Laurel rose to get some more juice. “Who do you have lined up to help you?”

Alicia couldn’t read her face, but she heard a hint underlying the woman’s words that made her glance at Jack. He, too, stared at Laurel.

“Pastor Rick will help. He helps with everything around Churchill,” Matt, the oldest of the boys, said.

“Yeah, and Kyle, though having him bring his new baby around the job site would be weird.” Rod, one of the first boys to come to the program, snickered. “Being a new dad has him tied in knots.”

Adam, Garret and Bennie were new to Lives and eager to hear more details.

“Jack has agreed to help us, too.” Alicia thought Laurel’s smile bloomed a little too widely. “He’s going to get more information from the library for us,” she continued uneasily. “We also have to wait for town council to determine which land they’ll donate for us to build on. They’re taking their time.”

“So when can we start?” Rod pressed.

“If everything comes together, I plan on starting right after you guys finish school,” Alicia told them. “If that works for you, Jack,” she added.

The hotelier shrugged. “Should be okay.”

“Great.” He could have shown some enthusiasm, Alicia thought. She faced the boys. “Make sure you study hard. I don’t want anyone to have to miss the fun because of summer school.”

“You have summer school here, too?” Giselle asked in surprise.

The boys outdid each other trying to explain that their school was just like any other, and they made it clear that they intended to avoid summer school at all costs. Alicia chuckled, smothering her laughter when Jack’s frown deepened into a glower because Eli smiled at Giselle and she smiled back.

“See? She’s not your baby anymore,” Alicia murmured.

Jack did not appreciate her humor. When the meal was over and the kitchen restored to order, he turned to Giselle. “We need to go home now,” he said in a flat tone.

“I told you, I won’t stay in that room.” Giselle crossed her arms over her chest, her face frozen in a glare of mutiny. “It’s like a playpen.”

No doubt sensing tension, Laurel ushered the boys out of the room. Alicia tried to leave, too, but Jack’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Please wait,” he said.

Alicia jerked away then nodded.

“Sorry.” Jack gave her an odd look then turned to his daughter. “You may not stay here, Giselle. Your aunt doesn’t have any extra room.” Jack endured her icy glare with no reaction. Alicia applauded his fortitude. Lesser men would have weakened.

“It’s time to go home,” he said quietly.

“Home?” Scorn laced his daughter’s voice.

“Yes. The lodge is our home now,” he said with firmness. “I have something I want to show you, honey,” he added in a softer tone.

“I don’t think I want another surprise today.” Despite her bravado, Giselle’s bottom lip trembled.

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her to his side.

“Give it a chance, please?” He lifted her chin. “I know your life right now isn’t what you thought, but it doesn’t have to be all bad.”

Alicia’s heart ached for the bereft twosome. Giselle wanted, needed her mom. Jack was doing everything he could to make her transition easier. She admired him for that. Silently she whispered a prayer for them while her brain cheered, Come on, Giselle. He loves you so much. Give a little.

“Please?” Jack murmured after pressing a kiss against her hair.

Giselle inhaled, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Excellent.” Jack beamed. He lifted her in the air and whirled her in a circle, as he’d probably done ever since she was little. “I love you, sweet pea.”

“I love you, too.” When he set her down, Giselle leaned back to study him. “But I still want you to find out who my birth parents are.”

Giselle might be adopted, but in the girl’s dark eyes Alicia saw the same dogged implacability as her father showed.

Jack remained silent. His gaze swung to Alicia. She smiled, trying to mentally encourage him. He glanced back at his daughter.

“Okay, I’ll make some more inquiries,” he said at last. “But you—”

“I know. I won’t get my hopes up. I’ll try to be patient and I’ll try not to be disappointed if things don’t turn out as I hope.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He shepherded them out to the car.

Alicia felt like a fifth wheel, but since she had no other way to get home, she got in the car, in the front seat beside Jack because Giselle insisted.

“Where’d you get this car?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen it around town before.”

“You haven’t. I had it shipped in,” Jack said, his face closing up.

“It was my mom’s car,” Giselle murmured.

“Oh.” Now Alicia really felt in the way. She waited until they reached town before she spoke. “You can drop me off here,” she said. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“No. You have to come.” Jack flicked a look to the backseat. “Alicia and I have a surprise for you, honey.”

“You and Alicia?” Giselle frowned.

“Well, I guess it’s mostly Alicia’s surprise.” Jack pulled up beside his hotel, got out and came around to open Alicia’s door. “Come on. Let’s show her.”

“I’m not very good with surprises,” Giselle said. Her face reddened. “I guess you already know that.”

“I’m not sure—” Alicia wanted to escape. But Jack gazed at her, a plea in his eyes. When a man looked at you like that, what could you do?

“Come on, Giselle,” she said, twining her arm with the girl’s. “Let’s go look.”

Jack led the way into the hotel. He paused in front of her bedroom door.

“This is for you. Because I love you. With Alicia’s help.” He pushed open the door.

Giselle’s face transformed from dread to wonder. She gave a squeal then rushed inside, bounding from one thing to another.

Relieved, Alicia turned to smile at Jack.

“I guess she thinks it’s okay,” she murmured.

Thank you, he mouthed.

Such a silly thing, but her heart thrummed with delight.

“It’s perfect. I can’t wait to have a sleepover.” Giselle danced from one foot to the other.

“A girls’ sleepover,” Jack added.

Alicia looked at Giselle and they groaned together. Giselle hugged her.

“How did you know my favorite color is green?” she asked.

“This.” Alicia pointed to the tiny emerald ring on her pinkie finger. “And this.” She touched a green clip in Giselle’s hair. “And this.” Her fingers brushed the green scarf looped around her neck.

“Daddy gave them to me.” Giselle tipped her head to one side. “How did you know to do all this? Are you a designer or something?”

“Nothing like that.” Alicia snuck a look at Jack and let out a pent up breath. He was smiling. “I just thought about what I’d like if I were your age and had a room like this.”

“Good thinking.” Giselle wrapped her arm around her father’s waist and looked at him adoringly. “It’s absolutely perfect, isn’t it, Daddy?”

Daddy. The two of them are a family.

She stood there, watching father and daughter bond, deeply touched by their precious reuniting. Her part had been small, but a tiny thrill coursed through Alicia that she’d been able to help bring them together, to re-create the bond that joined them.

If only she had someone to cling to, someone to love. As she watched Giselle and Jack, the ache in her heart grew. Because of him she had no family. Because of him she was missing everything about her son. He’d ruined her life.

Though a silent prayer helped suppress her pain, it didn’t stop her heart from constricting or her throat from closing with emotion. All she could think about was escaping before they noticed and she spoiled their reunion.

“I have to go,” she said, and wheeled toward the door.

“Alicia?” Giselle called. Alicia half turned to face her. “Thank you very much for helping my dad with this. I appreciate it a lot.” Her thin arms wrapped around Alicia’s neck, enveloping her in another hug.

“Welcome to Churchill. I think you and your father are going to love it here.” For a moment Alicia hugged her back. Then she eased herself free and hurried away. She thought she heard Jack call her name, but she ignored it and kept walking, desperate to be alone, to get away from the cloying constriction of emotions that returned whenever she remembered that day and all she’d lost.

Once in her apartment, Alicia sat in front of her electric fireplace, craving the heat it gave off. Though it had felt warm outside earlier, her soul was icy cold, her spirit crushed, her heart broken.

It was his fault Alicia hadn’t realized the implications that would follow from giving her child to another. Never to hear Mom, never to be hugged, never to know the soft touch of a child’s lips against her skin. Giselle’s embrace forced her to realize she’d given all that away.

Alicia had been trying to do the right thing, but somehow, until now, she’d never fully appreciated all that Mr. Parcet’s actions had cost her. Not until she’d seen Jack and Giselle strengthening the bonds that held their family together.

I’m so alone, her heart whispered. There’s no one to love me, to care for me. She thought of her son, growing up, changing, learning to love.

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