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Forgiveness is a choice—love isn’t
Nate Hendrick’s and Anna Grainger’s lives were changed—and entwined—forever, in one terrifying instant. That’s all it took for Anna’s husband to die saving the life of Nate’s daughter. Battling heartache and guilt, Nate offers Anna the only consolation he can: a place for her family to stay while she figures things out.
Neither expects the arrangement to be anything more than a convenience, but as their families come together, old wounds begin to heal and hearts mend. Nate knows they have a chance to salvage something beautiful from tragedy—if Anna can ever truly forgive him.
An author of more than ninety books for children and adults (more than seventy-five for Harlequin), JANICE KAY JOHNSON writes about love and family—about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. A USA TODAY bestselling author and an eight-time finalist for a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, she won a RITA® Award in 2008 for her Harlequin Superromance novel Snowbound. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small town north of Seattle, Washington.
Also By Janice Kay Johnson
Back Against the Wall
The Hero’s Redemption
Her Amish Protectors
Plain Refuge
A Mother’s Claim
Because of a Girl
The Baby Agenda
Bone Deep
Finding Her Dad
All That Remains
Making Her Way Home
No Matter What
A Hometown Boy
Anything for Her
Where It May Lead
From This Day On
One Frosty Night
More Than Neighbors
To Love a Cop
Brothers, Strangers
The Baby He Wanted
The Closer He Gets
Two Daughters
Yesterday’s Gone
In Hope’s Shadow
The Mysteries of Angel Butte
Bringing Maddie Home
Everywhere She Goes
All a Man Is
Cop by Her Side
This Good Man
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
In a Heartbeat
Janice Kay Johnson
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08288-4
IN A HEARTBEAT
© 2018 Jeannie Steinman
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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“We didn’t have an Xbox, so Josh thinks he’s gone to heaven,” she said.
Nate grimaced. “Molly hasn’t touched it since Sonja and I split up. If I were a good father, I’d have played with her, but do you know what her favorite one is?”
Anna had to laugh. “Let’s see. Would it be Just Dance Kids?”
“Dear God, yes. I felt like an idiot when I danced in high school.”
She laughed again, even though it was impossible to imagine this man graceless. She was immediately ashamed of herself. Kyle had only died three months ago, and Nate Kendrick had played a role in the tragedy. She’d agreed to work for him because she was desperate, and for Molly’s sake. Becoming friends and confidantes wasn’t happening. Given his tall, lean body, the saunter that spoke of complete confidence and features that might be too rough to be called handsome, he had to turn women’s heads wherever he went.
I can’t be one of them, she thought desperately.
Dear Reader,
I hope I’m not too predictable, but I know I’ve returned to some of the same themes repeatedly in my Harlequin Superromance novels. Always love, but also family, the people who are missing in our lives, and the aftereffects of trauma or loss. Without intending any such theme, I’ve managed to combine all of that in this, my last Superromance.
His daughter, her kids, his troubled ex-wife and the blame game. Is Nate really a man who breaks promises? The heroine wants to blame him for her husband’s death—but is that fair? And what kind of relationship can they possibly have when Nate also turns out to be the support Anna so desperately needs when she finds her husband’s death left her and their two children destitute? Imagine having to let yourself lean on the person you also want to hate—or, from his perspective, to fall in love with a woman whose devastation might be your fault.
Love never comes easily in my books!
Look for me next at Harlequin Intrigue. Different kinds of stories, but I feel sure you’ll still see the forces that have always driven my characters.
Signing out,
Janice
I’ve been lucky to have worked with remarkably smart, strong, caring editors at Harlequin Superromance. To Victoria, Jane, Laura and Wanda: a huge thank-you. I wouldn’t be the writer I am without you.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Extract
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
TRAFFIC WAS A BITCH, as always. Nate Kendrick ended one call when he was halfway across the I-90 bridge over Lake Washington and resigned himself to making the one he’d been putting off. Sonja would be pissed.
Nothing new about that.
She answered immediately, her tone suspicious. The minute she heard what he had to say, she screeched, “You always do this! What’s your excuse this time?”
“I’m putting together a deal. It was supposed to be a go today, but one of the major investors got cold feet overnight. I have to find a replacement.”
The silence unnerved him, since it was unlike her. Still quietly, she said, “Do you know how many thousand times I’ve heard that?”
“You knew what I did when you married me.” Venture capitalism was high-risk, high-adrenaline and sometimes high-flying, like when a company in his portfolio went public in a big way or sold to an industry leader for a billion or more. You did not succeed in the business by taking a working day off to accompany a mob of six-and seven-year-olds to the beach. Or was it a river park? Nate couldn’t remember.
“Some of us want an actual life.” She sounded sad. Playing him. “I, for one, want my daughter to love me enough to come home for Christmas when she’s an adult.”
“Goddamn it, Sonja,” he growled.
“We’ll be fine without you.”
Call ended.
Of course they would be. He loved his daughter, even as he knew she’d been slipping away from him since the divorce. But being one of two partners in a venture-capital firm meant demands that were never-ending. Who’d put Molly through college, if not him? Certainly not Sonja, who lived on her settlement from him. The settlement she wouldn’t get if he crashed and burned.
Traffic opened up enough for him to merge onto I-5 for the short distance into downtown Seattle. By then he’d already taken the next call, obliging him to accept a no answer with outward amiability. But he and this guy would do business together again, so he ignored another incoming call to chat about the investor’s son, excited about starting at Stanford this fall. Molly was ten years away from making any college decisions, thank God. Long practice let him think furiously as he talked.
What was his next best possibility? Stu Gribbin? He tended to like start-ups better than on-the-ground manufacturing, but it was worth a try.
Exiting from the freeway onto crowded streets hemmed in by tall buildings, Nate decided to wait to make the next call until he reached his office. He’d long since jettisoned his daughter’s summer day camp field trip from his mind.
* * *
HONESTLY, THIS WASN’T the most exciting outing the camp director could have planned, but Melissa might have chosen the park without actually having visited it.
Anna Grainger wasn’t complaining. Lounging on the picnic table bench with Kyle while the nearly forty kids ran off an excess of energy on the extensive mowed field was fine by her. From long habit, she kept an eye on her own two children—seven-year-old Josh and four-year-old Jenna—as well as the three additional kids she’d been assigned to supervise. All were buddies of Josh’s, participating along with him in a crazy soccer game that didn’t have any boundaries or rules she could see. Jenna had gravitated toward three or four other younger children also along for the field trip because their parents had volunteered to chaperone. Jenna didn’t have a shy bone in her body.
Anna reached for her water bottle and took a drink—tepid but wet. The coolers still held unopened cans of soda and bottles of water on ice that couldn’t have entirely melted, but she felt too lazy to get up.
“Couldn’t they just have taken the kids to a local school?” her husband asked idly, not at all put out. With his hands clasped behind his head and his legs outstretched, he didn’t look any more ambitious than she felt.
“You’d think so,” she agreed. “Except Melissa did promise we’d go down to the riverbank after lunch. There’s supposed to be a trail alongside.”
“It’s after lunch,” he pointed out.
“Mmm-hmm.” Wincing as Josh and another boy collided and crashed to the ground, she kept her eye on them until they jumped up, laughing and running back into the game.
“Some of the kids are heading that way,” Kyle observed. “Is anyone paying attention?”
Anna straightened, seeing that he was right. And, no, Melissa was refereeing a dispute between several quarrelsome boys, and Kimberly, one of the young assistants, had organized three-legged races that were winding up with most of the participants collapsed on the grass, giggling. Linda—no, she’d seen her escorting two girls to the bathroom facilities, such as they were.
“Maybe a parent,” she began uncertainly.
“I don’t see that little redhead.” Kyle sat up. “The girl?”
“Molly? Her mother’s here. She’s probably with—”
But she wasn’t. Anna spotted Molly’s mother, Shana—no, Sonja, that was it—right away, sitting at another picnic table texting or playing a game on her phone, her head bent over it. Molly had been in Josh’s class last year, and a couple times Anna had chatted casually with Sonja at special events.
Already on his feet, Kyle said, “I’ll go on ahead, just to be on the safe side. I can catch any eager beavers.” He set off at a trot across the field toward the band of trees along the Snoqualmie River.
For a second, she let her gaze linger on him. Unlike a lot of the other fathers, his body remained lean and athletic. By their mid-to late-thirties, so many men had started dressing to hide some softness around their waist, or had developed frown lines on their faces. Maybe stress did that; Kyle never seemed to feel a smidgen.
Disturbed by how acid that thought had been, Anna automatically checked on her daughter and the four boys. All were well.
A whistle shrilled and, like everyone else, she turned to the camp director. “Everyone, find your group leader! Time to head for the river, but stick with your adult.”
Kids who had been spread across the field, including those who had been drifting toward the river trail, ran back to the adults. Just as the boys and Jenna reached her, Anna heard a woman say, “Anyone see Molly?”
She turned. Sonja was scanning the area.
“A couple of the girls went to the bathroom,” another mother said.
“No, they’re back,” someone else said.
Anna stood. “Kyle thought some kids might have started toward the river, so he went ahead.”
The whistle blew again. “Everybody, freeze!”
The kids became as still as statues, eyes wide. “Parents, is anyone from your group missing? Do you have an extra?”
Kids and parents sorted themselves out. Only one child was missing: Molly Kendrick, who, with that bright head of hair, would have stood out, anyway.
Hyperventilating, Sonja cried, “But I was watching! I just...”
Just let her attention stray. Which almost any parent did on occasion, although this was a poor time and place to take her eyes off not only her daughter, but also the other three children she was supposed to supervise.
Skin tight beside her eyes, the middle-aged director, a wiry, energetic woman, said, “Anna, can you take my group, too, while I make sure your husband has found Molly?”
“You bet.” Smiling, she collected the additional three girls and said, “Okay, let’s start that way, but stay together.”
Melissa jogged ahead, disappearing into the trail through the trees. The rest of them followed in a clump.
Where was Kyle? If he’d located Molly, Anna thought he’d have ushered her back to join the group. On a tinge of fear, Anna glanced over her shoulder at the parking lot. Could Molly have wandered that way? Been lured into a car? The river wasn’t the only frightening possibility.
Seeing that Jenna was lagging, Anna said, “How about a piggyback ride, kiddo?”
“I’m tired.” She still napped and, really, had held out well today, considering.
Anna crouched to let her climb on, after which she walked faster. The older kids had no trouble keeping up. The nine of them reached the trail first, plunging into the cool, shadowy depths beneath the trees.
A minute later, José said, “Did you hear that?”
“No—” But then she did. It sounded like sobbing. She broke into a run, the kids thundering behind her.
She saw the river first, green and higher than it should have been in late June. All the rivers were, after the exceptionally rainy spring and early summer they’d had. Close to the shore, the water was clear enough for her to see rocks beneath the surface, which seemed placid, except...well, those ripples might be deceptive.
The supposed riverbank trail seemed to be partially overgrown with blackberries and other nuisances like salmonberries. But a small beach allowed passage along the water.
The screams reached a crescendo. Jenna bouncing on her back, Anna raced upstream toward Melissa, who crouched with her arms around the sobbing girl. Oh, dear heavens—Molly was soaked, head to toe. She’d gone into the water. Anna’s next thought was overwhelming relief. They’d come so close to a tragedy.
Somebody brushed by her. Sonja. She raced to her daughter and dropped to her knees. “What were you thinking? You know the rules!”
Molly cast herself into her mother’s arms and cried even harder.
Melissa straightened, her gaze going to Anna as she waited for her to approach.
Only then did Anna feel a faint drumbeat of apprehension. Where was Kyle? Shouldn’t he be here, too? Unless, once he was sure Molly was safe, he’d gone looking for other strays...
But she knew. She knew, even before Melissa drew her away from the boys, who stared in fascination at the girl who would be in so much trouble.
“Molly says—” Melissa swallowed. “She says she was being swept away, but Josh’s daddy went in the water after her. That he threw her toward the bank, but when she turned around he was being carried downstream. Then she couldn’t see him at all. He’s probably made it to shore somewhere, but I called 911 to be on the safe side.”
Anna began to tremble. “Kyle can’t swim.”
* * *
NATE IGNORED THE first two calls from his ex. He was having an intense conversation with another of his “angel” investors, who was on the fence about taking this opportunity.
“Send me what your analysts have, and I’ll take a look. But you know I’m leery of anything geared to the young twenties. Hell, I don’t understand most of it. Or them.”
Nate laughed. “Who does? But the money is in that market, whether we like to admit it or not.”
“Yeah, yeah,” John Reynolds grumbled, a note of humor in his voice. “Let me look, and I’ll call you back.”
“Good enough.”
Just as he ended the call, Nate heard the beep of yet another call coming in.
And, yes, it was his ex-wife again. What, she needed to let him know what a good time they were having without him? Irritated, Nate answered nonetheless.
“Sonja?”
“Nate, you know we were visiting a riverside park.” Her voice shook. “Molly sneaked away and waded out into the river. She...she got pulled out into the current. One of the fathers went in after her and managed to push her to a gravel bar. But Nate...he didn’t make it out. This man I don’t know died to save our daughter.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“And you couldn’t even answer your phone!”
Sidestepping the accusation, he said, “Molly. Is she okay?”
“She’s hysterical, how do you think she is?” Sonja’s voice was thickened by what had likely been a storm of tears. “We’re on our way to the hospital. She swallowed water and... I don’t know. She wants her daddy,” she said bitterly.
He seriously doubted Molly had expressed any such desire. Since the divorce, she’d grown increasingly shy with him. Each time he took her for a weekend, she acted as if she was being palmed off on a stranger.
He said simply, “Overlake Hospital?”
Background voices told him Sonja wasn’t alone with their daughter, thank God. She came back. “Yes.”
He strode out of the office. “I’m on my way. Wait for me there.” Pausing only to tell his assistant that he had an emergency, he went down the hall to the elevator.
As it dropped to the parking garage, Nate saw that he had missed texts, too. He’d felt the phone vibrating, but that was normal—texts piled up all day. This time, there were three from Sonja. The last one was all caps, multiple exclamation points.
MOLLY ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!!! WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE????
Shit.
At least it was early enough that traffic should still flow. Tension riding him, he pushed the speed limit, weaving in and out, risking a ticket during this reverse commute to the Eastside of Lake Washington. Molly almost died because of you!!! What about the man who’d rescued his daughter? Had somebody really died, or had that been Sonja hyperbole?
Pain shot up his neck, wrapping around his temples and forehead. Fear, regret, guilt—they all churned in his belly.
He didn’t make it out. This man I don’t know died to save our daughter.
Overlake Hospital overlooked Highway 405 in Bellevue. Even so, after exiting the freeway Nate had to make several turns before he reached the parking garage beneath the hospital. Frustrated at each red light, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. In the garage, he took the first available open slot, ran for the elevator and rode up to the ground-floor emergency services.
A dozen people sat scattered throughout the waiting room, but Nate saw Sonja and Molly immediately, merged into one with his daughter on Sonja’s lap, head on her shoulder.
Sinking into the chair beside them, he said huskily, “Kiddo. How are you?”
The distress in Molly’s big eyes felt like a sucker punch to Nate’s belly. Instead of answering, she buried her head against her mother’s neck so she didn’t have to see him. Maybe it hadn’t been a punch. A knife twisting, instead.
Staring straight ahead, Sonja didn’t want to look at him, either, but she said in a near monotone, “The doctor says she swallowed a lot of water, that’s all. Mostly, she was petrified. I’d take her home, except I was too upset to drive. My car is still at the park. I’ll have to take a taxi.”
He ignored that. Of course he wouldn’t let her take a taxi, and she knew it. “What about the man? Was he brought here, too?”
Very slowly her head turned. Her eyes blazed, her lip curled. “So they could bring him back from the dead?”
The air left his lungs in a whoosh. “He really died?”
“You think I just said that?”
“No. I hoped they’d pulled him out.”
“They did. Dead.”
A man had died rescuing Nate’s daughter. Because I wasn’t there.
“Who is—” Oh, hell. “Who was he?”
“Kyle Grainger. His son, Josh, was in Molly’s class last year. Both of Josh’s parents came today.”
The searing words were bad enough, but the hatred in her eyes...
No wonder Molly had become so skittish around Nate. What had Sonja been telling his daughter about him?