Check your e-mail. I may have information about your baby.

The message was signed MysteryMom.

“Huh.” Elise shifted on her chair and cast a glance to Jared. “What do you suppose …?”

He shrugged. “Check your e-mail.” While she navigated to a new webpage and accessed her e-mail account, he pulled his chair closer to the desk so that he was beside her.

She opened the e-mail and leaned closer to the screen to read.

Dear Elise, I read your post to the “Parents Without Children” message board with a heavy heart. Losing a child is every mother’s worst nightmare, and the last thing I’d ever want is to add to your pain. But the circumstances of your story rang familiar to me, and I took the liberty of doing some digging. I have powerful contacts with access to reliable information about birth records and have made it my mission to help mothers like you—and I do think I can help you. Not wanting to raise false hope for you, I triple-checked my information before contacting you.

Elise, my sources tell me that your baby might be alive.

Dear Reader,

Last autumn, I was brainstorming story ideas centered around babies and hunky heroes when my agent let me know that the editors at Intrigue had asked if I wanted to write a story for the TOP SECRET DELIVERIES series. I would be free to write whatever story I wanted as long as I incorporated MysteryMom, the behind-the-scenes woman who has been helping reunite parents with their babies in earlier books in the series. Call it fate, or serendipity, or just good luck, but all the pieces came together in the right place and time. “As a matter of fact,” I told my agent, “I have been working on a story that fits those parameters beautifully. Count me in!”

I hope you enjoy Elise and Jared’s love story, one in which fate/serendipity/good luck gets a helping hand from MysteryMom, and tragedy leads to the sweetest blessings … love and family.

Thank you to Tammy Yenalavitch of Charlotte, North Carolina, for sharing her kitties, Bubba, Diva and Brooke with me for this story. Tammy won the chance to have her cats featured in my book through a contest I ran on Facebook. Stay tuned, more chances to win fame and celebrity for your cat will be coming soon!

Best wishes and happy reading,

Beth

About the Author

BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romance suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award in romance suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA or visit her website, www.bethcornelison.com.

Operation Baby Rescue

Beth Cornelison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my mom, who is always ready to lend me a helping

hand (or eyes to read a manuscript) and who shares

my passion for books. I love you!

Prologue

“Push!”

Elise Norris squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and pushed through the contraction that wrenched her belly in an excruciating vise grip.

The nurse at her side held her hand and wiped perspiration from Elise’s brow. “You’re doing great! Almost there …”

“Now breathe. Catch your breath. I think the next one should do it.” Dr. Arrimand peered at her over his mask and gave a confident nod.

As the pain eased, Elise rolled her head to the side to gaze at the ultrasound image of her daughter that was taped to the bed rail. The photo, which she’d carried in her wallet for weeks, had been her focal point throughout the delivery. In fact, her daughter had been her focal point for the past nine months. Longer than that. She’d been planning for, saving money for and praying for this day for years.

With a trembling finger, she traced the lines of the fuzzy picture she’d memorized in the past several weeks and smiled. Raising a child alone would be difficult. She had no illusions otherwise. But Elise had known she wanted to be a mother, wanted to raise a family, since she’d been a little girl herself. When she’d celebrated her thirtieth birthday without a husband with whom she could share the joys of parenthood, she’d researched sperm banks and set about finding the perfect donor to father her baby.

“It’s okay, Gracie,” she whispered to the ultrasound picture. “We’ll be fine. You and me. We’ll be a t-team.” The last word of her pledge caught in her throat as another powerful spasm of pain ripped through her. Building quickly to a crescendo, the contraction stole her breath.

“This is it. Keep pushing!” Dr. Arrimand coached.

She clenched her teeth and concentrated on bringing her daughter into the world. All her physical strength and love were focused on the task. Minutes later, the nurse laid a pink-faced bundle in her arms.

Elise gazed into her daughter’s eyes and fell instantly in love. The bond was powerful, emotional, solid. Her daughter. Her flesh and blood. Her dream come true.

With one finger she traced Gracie’s nose and lips. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m your mommy. Oh, you’re beautiful.” She smoothed her daughter’s tiny eyebrows and kissed her sweet forehead. A thin layer of hair the same shade of golden blond as Elise’s crowned Grace’s head, and she saw her own blue eyes reflected in her baby’s cerulean gaze. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

Elise tugged on the pink blanket the nurse had swaddled Gracie in and freed her daughter’s right arm. She lifted Grace’s hand and studied the tiny fingers, perfect fingernails, delicate skin. “So sweet and little …”

Not wanting Grace to get chilled, Elise pulled the blanket back around her daughter and noticed a small red pear-shaped birthmark on Grace’s right shoulder. “Angel kissed,” she whispered to Grace. “That’s what my mom said about my brother’s birthmark.”

A pang of regret stung her heart. Had she lived, what would her mother have thought about her granddaughter, her namesake?

At her side, the nurse fumbled with the tubes of her IV.

“What’s that?” she asked, spotting the syringe in the nurse’s hand.

“This will help with the pain so you can rest.” She injected a clear solution into the port and smiled. “Just another minute, Mom, then I need to take the baby to be checked thoroughly by the staff pediatrician.”

Already the drug she’d been given made Elise woozy. She frowned. She hadn’t asked for pain medicine. She wanted to be alert, savoring every detail of the experience. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to be with my baby, to bond …”

She heard her speech slur slightly as her eyelids drooped.

“We’ll bring her to your room later to breastfeed.” The nurse scooped Grace from Elise’s arms, and Elise felt a pang in her heart.

“Not yet. Give me … just another … minute.” But Elise could barely keep her eyes open. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to watch the nurse whisk Grace through the door to the next room. As she disappeared from Elise’s line of sight, her daughter gave a mewling cry.

Gracie …

Elise fought off the fog of sleep and blinked her surroundings into focus. The patient room at the small-town hospital was not lavishly furnished but was comfortable and painted a cheerful pale yellow. With a sigh she thought of the state-of-the-art hospital in Lagniappe, Louisiana, where she’d planned to give birth.

With her due date still three weeks away, she’d believed she’d be fine driving to the weekend crafts fair in the rural community forty-five minutes from her home. If she began having contractions, she could easily get back to Lagniappe. Or so she’d thought. But the best laid plans …

Her water had broken while she paid for an antique rocking chair, and the contractions had come hard and fast. Within ten miles, she’d been doubled over in pain and had pulled to the side of the road to call 911.

The local ambulance had arrived quickly—thank God—and she’d been rushed to Pine Mill Community Hospital in time for the delivery.

The window was dark now, telling her night had fallen, and she searched her walls for a clock. How long had she slept? A simple white clock over the door read eleven forty-five. Elise rubbed her eyes and worked to clear the cobwebs of drug-induced sleep to do the simple calculation. Grace had been born at 3:30 p.m., so … more than eight hours had passed. She groaned and found the call button on the bed rail.

Enough of sleep. She wanted to hold her daughter. Nurse her daughter. Memorize every inch of her daughter’s face and hands and toes …

“Can I help you?” came the response to her page.

“I’m awake now, and I want to see my baby. Can someone bring her to me?”

Her request met silence then a hesitant, “Um, I’ll … have the doctor come talk to you.”

The doctor? Elise tensed, butterflies kicking to life in her gut. She didn’t like the uneasy hesitation in the nurse’s voice.

“Is there a problem? Is my baby okay?”

“Dr. Arrimand will be in to see you in a moment, ma’am,” a different, more authoritative voice said.

“But what about my daughter? I want to see her.” No response. “Hello? Hello? I want my baby brought to me!”

Again silence answered her. She buzzed the nurses’ station, but her page was ignored. Irritation and concern spiked her pulse. Elise threw back her covers and swung her feet to the floor.

If they wouldn’t bring Grace to her, she’d go get her from the nursery herself. She was Grace’s mother, and they had no right to keep her from her. If something was wrong, she deserved answers … now!

Her head spun as she pushed off the bed, and her body throbbed from the rigors of the delivery. Elise grabbed the bed railing to keep from falling. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she waited impatiently for her equilibrium to return. When the room stopped shifting around her, she tried again to make her way to the door.

“Oh, Ms. Norris! You shouldn’t try to walk alone yet!” a nurse fussed as she bustled into the room with a blood-pressure cuff in her hands. She took Elise’s elbow and steered her back to the bed.

Elise tried to shrug away from the nurse’s grip. “I want to see my daughter!”

With a strength that overpowered Elise’s post-delivery condition, the nurse guided her back to the bed. “Dr. Arrimand has been called. He’s on his way, and he’ll explain everything.”

The cryptic response rang warning bells in her head. A bubble of panic formed in her chest. “What does he have to explain? What’s wrong with Grace?”

“The doctor will—”

“No! Tell me now! What happened? Where’s my baby?” Tremors of dread shook her.

At that moment, the dark haired doctor, now wearing a white lab coat instead of scrubs, stepped into her room and helped the nurse maneuver Elise back to the bed.

Elise drilled the doctor with a hard, frantic stare. “Where’s my daughter? Why won’t anyone talk to me?”

Dr. Arrimand took a step back from the side of the bed and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Ms. Norris, but while you were asleep, your daughter’s heart …” He paused, pressing his mouth in a grim line, then sighed heavily. “… Stopped beating.”

A chill washed through Elise, and she was sure her heart had stopped, as well. “Wh—what?”

“We did everything we could to resuscitate her, but … we couldn’t save her.”

The room tilted. Blood whooshed in her ears. Shock rendered her mute and unable to move.

This couldn’t be happening. She had to be hallucinating from the drugs they’d given her. Surely she’d heard him wrong. They had the wrong person.

“I’m very sorry,” the doctor muttered, eyeing her with pity.

No. Her baby was not dead.

No, no, no, no, noooo!

The denials in her head became a keening wail. Agony and horror rose in a suffocating wave, filling her chest, squeezing her throat.

Questions pounded her brain. What made her heart stop? Why couldn’t they save her? Why had they waited to tell her? Where was Grace now?

But her heart ached too much to voice them. Shock and grief made all but gasping sobs and tormented moans beyond her reach.

In the blink of an eye, her dream come true had turned into every parent’s worst nightmare. Her baby was dead.

Chapter 1

Fourteen months later

Elise shuffled into the church fellowship hall and cast a wary gaze around the assembled group. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee scented the air, lending a warmth and welcome to what she expected to be a most uncomfortable environment—sharing her grief with strangers.

One of the women seated in the circle of chairs spotted her standing in the doorway and called to her. “Hello. Are you looking for the grief-support meeting?”

Elise took a reinforcing breath and nodded.

The woman stood and waved her closer. “Please, come join us.” As Elise approached the circle of chairs, several of the men stood, as well, greeting her with smiles and nods of welcome, and the woman who’d spoken first took her hand and patted it. “My name’s Joleen Causey. I’m the group facilitator. Welcome.”

“Thanks. I’m Elise Norris.” She gave Joleen an awkward smile, and when the facilitator motioned to a seat next to her, Elise sat on the folding metal chair. As the others introduced themselves in an onslaught of names she didn’t even try to remember, she scanned the faces of the group gathered in the small circle and gripped the edge of her chair. Several elderly ladies gave her curious glances, two gentlemen with gray-streaked hair nodded in greeting, a couple about her age clutched hands and sent her wan smiles, and a raven-haired man she estimated to be in his early thirties met her gaze and flashed her a strained crooked grin. “Jared Coleman,” he said.

Other than the couple who clung to each other’s hands as if their lives depended on it, Jared Coleman stood out simply because he was at least twenty-five years younger than any of the other members. She wondered briefly whom he’d lost and how he’d wound up in this group.

She’d been told about the group by a neighbor who attended the church that sponsored the meetings. For six months, Elise had worked on gathering the nerve to attend this grief-support program. For someone who’d been looking out for herself most of her life, who had established her independence from an early age and prided herself on her efficiency, reliability and self-sufficiency, seeking help had felt like a defeat. But when the one-year anniversary of Grace’s death passed, Elise had still been moving through her life in the same fog of pain and denial as she had the first week. While she knew she’d never forget the child she lost, she had to come to grips with Grace’s death so she could move on in her life.

“Don’t feel like you have to talk tonight if all you want to do is listen,” Joleen said. “But if you want to talk about what brought you here today or anything else that’s in your heart, please feel free. We’re here to listen and support you however we can.” She flashed another warm and encouraging smile, tucking a wisp of her blond hair behind her ear, and Elise nodded.

“I came tonight because …” She took a deep breath. “… Just over a year ago, my daughter died right after birth.”

Across the circle, the young wife gasped. Elise’s gaze darted to her, but the woman was sharing a sad look with her husband. A prick of envy poked Elise. At least this woman had someone to share her grief with. In the past months, Elise had felt more alone than ever.

Elise squeezed her hands into such tight fists, her fingernails bit into her palms. “I only had a few minutes to hold her before …” She paused, feeling a knot forming in her throat. “Anyway, I’m just having a hard time … handling it.”

“Of course. Many people say losing a child is the hardest death for a person to experience. But you’re not alone.” Joleen gestured to the rest of the group. “We’re all here to help each other.”

Elise forced a thin smile of acknowledgment then stared down at her lap. She hadn’t talked with anyone about Gracie in months, largely because she couldn’t get through even a simple comment without getting choked up. And the instant her eyes got teary, her neighbors or her colleagues at the Lagniappe newspaper, where she was a staff photographer, would back away with stricken expressions, as if they expected her to dissolve into wailing histrionics.

Knowing that her grief made other people uncomfortable chafed. Since when was there a time limit on compassion for a person’s loss? But since talking about Grace was difficult anyway, she’d soon learned to avoid the topic of her daughter. Would sharing her feelings about Grace and the unfairness of her loss be any easier here?

“We lost our baby, too.”

Elise jerked her head up and looked at the man who sat clinging to his wife.

The wife had her mouth pressed in a tight line as if struggling not to cry, but her eyes held Elise’s. In an even tone, the husband continued, “It’s been six months now, and while coming here—” he gestured with his head to the group “—has helped, it’s still hard, really hard, for both of us to deal with. So while I won’t pretend to know what you are feeling, because everyone grieves differently, we know at least something of what you’re going through.”

The wife bit her bottom lip and nodded to Elise.

“My son Sammy died fifteen years ago,” a white-haired lady next to Elise said, patting her arm, “and I still think of him every day. It gets easier with time, but a mother’s love never ends.”

Elise swallowed hard, fighting back the stranglehold of emotion rising in her throat. If she allowed her tears to come now, she was afraid she might not be able to stop crying. Had coming here been a mistake? How could she relive the horror of that day, the crushing sense of loss over and again by coming to this group every week?

When she scanned the faces around the circle again, her gaze met Jared Coleman’s. His dark brown eyes were locked on her, and an odd expression of guilt or uneasiness shadowed his face.

“Do you and your husband have any other children?” Joleen asked, and it took a moment for Elise to realize the question was directed to her.

“Oh, I … I’m not married. And no, no other children.”

Joleen gave her a sympathetic look. “I see. Well, the loss of a child can be hard on a marriage. Divorce, sadly, is common following such a tragedy.”

The young woman across the circle nodded. “Greg and I have promised each other to be open and honest about our feelings. This group is part of our strategy to make sure our marriage survives.”

Elise shook her head. “No, I mean I was never married. I—” Elise stopped when the eyebrow of one of the older women across from her raised in judgment. She didn’t owe this group an explanation of her personal choices. A pulse of anger for the woman’s haughty attitude helped Elise get a handle on the burgeoning tears in her throat. Taking a deep restorative breath, she folded her arms around her midriff and sat back in her chair. She stared at the floor near her feet, second-guessing her decision to attend the meeting.

Joleen apparently read Elise’s body language for what it was, a disinclination to say any more on the topic, and directed the next question elsewhere.

“Jared, earlier you mentioned that you’d had an especially tough day last week. Would you like to tell us what happened?”

Without raising her head, Elise angled her gaze up from the floor to glance at Jared Coleman. He met her eyes briefly before clearing his throat, shrugging a shoulder dismissively and shifting in his seat. “Um, I …” His gaze darted away, and he cracked the knuckles of one hand with his other.

His restlessness and reluctance to speak intrigued Elise. Especially since his guilty furtive glances toward her told her his discomfort sharing with the group centered on her presence. She made a point of averting her gaze, hoping to make him feel less on the spot.

“Isabel took her first steps last Wednesday,” Jared said at last.

Around the circle, several of the women cooed.

Elise tightened her grip on her sleeves. First steps? Clearly Isabel was a baby. About one year old.

The same age Grace would have been had she lived.

Like a fist to the gut, a shot of renewed grief landed a sucker punch that stole Elise’s breath. She sat very still, keeping her gaze on the floor, but she felt Jared’s eyes watching her.

“As happy as I was about her walking,” he continued, “it just brought home to me, again, all the milestones Kelly will never see.”

Now the women around the circle made noises of empathy and shared sadness for Jared’s revelation.

Elise made a few mental calculations. Jared was here alone. He apparently had a one-year-old daughter. Was the absent Kelly his wife?

He said no more about the situation, letting his feelings about the event go unspoken. In the ensuing silence, one of the older women launched into a story about missing her late husband during the holidays and family celebrations.

Elise hazarded a glace across the circle and found Jared’s attention on her again. Instead of jerking her gaze away, as if she’d been caught peeking at something forbidden, she held his stare. More than grief over the story he’d just shared, she saw concern and guilt in his dark brown eyes. Guilt?

She was still pondering the reason behind his odd expression half an hour later when the group dismissed for refreshments. Elise had no appetite for the cookies on the table by the exit, but her mouth was dry, and she decided to stop for a cup of lemonade before she left. Her pause at the refreshment table gave Joleen a chance to catch up with her before Elise made her escape from the awkward meeting.

“I’m so glad you came tonight,” she said, placing a hand on Elise’s arm. “I hope you’ll come back. Talking about your experiences and your feelings gets easier with practice, and having the support of people who understand what you’re going through is invaluable.”

How could anyone really know what she was feeling? Her grief seemed so personal.

Elise forced a smile. “Thank you.” She made no comment on whether she’d return. The jury was still out on that. Even the little she’d said tonight had been painful to share. She drained her lemonade quickly, hoping to make a hasty exit before any other members of the group caught her in an uncomfortable conversation. Tossing her empty cup in the trash, she spun on her heel to leave … and almost collided with a broad chest belonging to a man with dark brown, soulful eyes.

“Hi,” Jared said with a quick flash of a lopsided grin.

“Oh, uh … hi.” Elise’s heartbeat performed a stutter-step. He was much taller than she’d expected, and this close to him, she could smell a tantalizing hint of sandalwood.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans once before sliding his hands in his pockets. The rattle of keys told her he was fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I … made you uneasy or caused you more pain tonight.”

She blinked at him and furrowed her brow. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but an apology was not on the list. “Pardon?”

“Talking about my daughter.” He gave an apologetic wince. “When the Harrisons joined the group.” He hitched his head toward the young couple still chatting with an older lady at the circle of chairs. “.Kim would get upset when I talked about Isabel. I thought, maybe, since you’d lost your baby … hearing about my daughter would be … especially difficult.” He pressed his lips in a taut line of regret. “If it was, I’m sorry.”

Elise could only stare for a moment. His sensitivity to her pain was thoughtful and also … frustrating.

“I, um …” She shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you, but … I don’t expect you to censor yourself to protect me. Sure, it hurts to hear about other people’s kids and think about what might have been, but … that’s not your problem.”

He shrugged and frowned. “Maybe, but I’d hate to think you decided not to come back because my stories about Isabel upset you. Losing my wife was hard enough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to have lost Isabel, how difficult it must be for you and the Harrisons.”

Pain shot through her chest, and she murmured, “It’s been hell.”

He pulled one hand out of his pocket and flipped it up in a gesture that said she’d proved his point. “And I don’t want to make it worse.”

She nodded, swallowing hard to force down the knot of emotion that had worked its way up her throat. “I appreciate that. But how selfish would it be of me to expect you not to say what you needed to about your daughter, if it helped you work through your own grief for your wife?”

He lifted his chin and cocked his head as if her comment caught him off guard.

Before he could say anything, she raised a hand. “Besides, I get a little tired of people avoiding mention of babies, and especially Gracie, my daughter, as if pretending she never existed would be easier for me, when really it’s their own awkwardness they want to avoid.”

She heard the bitter edge in her tone and bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. Her frustrations with her coworkers and neighbors weren’t his fault. But instead of taking offense, he smiled and nodded.

“Exactly. I get the same thing from my friends concerning my wife. As if any talk of spouses is suddenly taboo. I hate it.”

His response surprised her. Something warm unfurled in her chest, releasing a bit of the pressure that squeezed her lungs. When was the last time someone had actually understood the tangled emotions she had over losing Grace? Even this tiny connection to Jared made her feel a little less alone. “Your wife must have died recently if Isabel is only a year old.”

He nodded. “Nine months ago. Isabel was five months old when Kelly was killed by a drunk driver.”

A spark of outrage fired through her. “A drunk driver. It’s bad enough to lose someone to disease or an accident, but when another person’s carelessness is to blame … that’s—” She shook her head, fumbling for the right word to voice her dismay.

“Yeah. It is.” He gave her a bittersweet smile, telling her he understood what went unsaid.

Empathy pricked her heart, and she felt another thread of connection form between them. His grief might be different, but they faced similar struggles.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, knowing how trite the words sounded. How many people had told her they were sorry for her loss? Enough that the platitude felt empty to her. Judging by his expression, he’d heard a lot of hollow phrases in the past nine months, as well. Well-meant words that did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

Elise groaned and raised a hand to her face. “Ugh, did I just say that? Not that I’m not sorry about your loss, but—”

He chuckled softly and gave her an understanding look. “I’m sorry for your loss, too. There. Now we’re even on banal expressions.” He shrugged. “Although I’ve decided to cut folks a break. I don’t think I’d know what to say to any of my friends if their wives died, either. Other than, Man, that sucks.”

They shared a wry grin. The flicker of humor in his dark eyes mesmerized her, and after a moment, she realized she was staring at him. He had the kind of face that held a woman’s attention—square jaw, full lips, straight nose. As she shook herself from her trance, her pulse fluttered.

She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and sidled toward the door. “I should be going.”

“Right. Well—” He offered his hand. “—It was nice to meet you, Elise.”

“You, too.” She took his hand, and his long fingers and warm palm folded around hers in an encompassing grasp. Firm. Strong. Dependable.

She let her hand linger in his, puzzling over the words that had sprung to mind. Thinking she could tell anything about his character from his handshake was preposterous. And of all the traits a man could be, why was his dependability what came to mind?

“Will you come back next week?”

His question roused her from her sidetracked thoughts.

Would she be back? Coming tonight had taken her weeks of preparation and building her nerve. “Maybe. I, um …”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Maybe is good enough. No pressure. Just think about it.”

And think, she did. All week. But not just about whether she’d return to the grief-support meeting. She thought about Jared Coleman. The way he’d lost his wife. His one-year-old daughter, who was walking. His dark, compassionate eyes.

When she weighed whether she wanted to return to the support group, her reluctance to open herself to the pain of rehashing Grace’s death was tempered by a desire to see Jared again. The connection she’d felt with him had been real. Hadn’t it? But was her interest in Jared about feeling less alone in her grief or about the flutter of attraction she’d experienced when he’d held her hand? She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, especially not one with his own baggage and a daughter who’d remind her every day of Gracie. So why did his lopsided smile keep drifting through her mind?

“Goodbye, Princess.” Jared kissed his daughter on the top of her head as he moved toward the door the next Thursday night. “Be good for Grandma.”

“She’s always good. Aren’t you, Isabel?” his mother asked as she helped guide Isabel’s spoon to her mouth. Which was progress. “Will you be late?”

“Shouldn’t be. The support group never runs later than eight o’clock. You know that.” He shoved his arms in his jacket, then fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

“What I know is that you don’t have any sort of social life,” his mother said, and Jared groaned.

Here we go again …

“A handsome young man like you should be dating. It’s been almost a year since Kelly died, and—”

“It’s been nine months,” he corrected, “and I’m not ready to date again. I may never be. No one can ever replace Kelly.” He jangled the keys in his hand impatiently. How many times in the past few weeks had he had this same conversation?

“I’m not suggesting anyone replace her. But there are plenty of other women who have merits of their own. There’s a perfectly lovely girl in my office who—”

He huffed a sigh of exasperation. “I can find my own dates, Mom.”

“But you don’t.” She aimed Isabel’s spoon at him to punctuate her point.

“Because I don’t want to date. I told you it’s too soon.”

“A young man like you has … needs. Physical needs that—”

Jared shuddered. “Stop!” He held up a hand and marched quickly to the back door. “Do not go there.”

He was not discussing his sex life with his mother.

“I’m just saying—”

“See you a little after eight, Mom. Good night!” He exited quickly and shook his head as he strolled to his car. He knew his mother meant well, but the idea of dating again stirred a sharp ache in his chest and an uneasy sense of guilt in his gut. Damn, but he missed Kelly so much some days he could barely stand it.

As he cranked his car’s engine, he recalled the new woman who’d visited the grief-support group last week. Elise Norris. Her glossy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and sad smile had filtered through his thoughts at odd moments this past week. While he showered. While he tried to fall asleep. When he woke in the morning.

His pulse kicked up at the prospect of seeing her again tonight, and he frowned to himself. He’d just finished telling his mother that he wasn’t ready to date. So why was he anticipating seeing Elise tonight with schoolboylike nerves?

Okay, yes, they’d had a certain connection in the few moments they’d talked, but that was hardly reason to get all worked up. On the heels of the anxious flutter, cumbersome thoughts of Kelly rose to quash any notion of pursuing his attention to Elise. Just five years ago he’d stood at the altar and promised to forsake all others for Kelly. How could he think of another woman when Kelly hadn’t even been gone for a year?

Raising his daughter had to be his focus now. Not finding a new wife.

Elise had almost made up her mind to skip the next support-group meeting when she remembered the Harrisons. Knowing that they’d also lost a baby made her want to reach out to them. If anyone could understand the hole in her heart, she guessed the young couple could. And maybe she could offer them some support, as well.

By the time she arrived at the meeting, there were only two chairs left vacant in the circle. As Joleen called a greeting to her, Elise headed for the chair closest to her, but before she reached it, one of the older ladies, who’d been getting a cup of coffee, took the seat. Which left one open chair. Next to Jared. She met his gaze as she approached the chair, and he flashed her the lopsided smile that had filled her thoughts throughout the week. Her stomach flip-flopped.

“Welcome back,” he whispered to her as she settled next to him.

The sandalwood scent she remembered from last week filled her nose and stirred a warmth in her chest.

Joleen called the meeting to order and opened the floor to comments and discussion. Throughout the session, Elise tried to focus on what the other members were saying, tried to work up the nerve to share something that might be valuable to the conversation, but she found herself preoccupied with every movement, every sound Jared made. A grunt of sympathy for Mrs. Bagwell. A scratch of his chin. Crossing his arms over his chest. A heavy breath … of fatigue? Boredom?

When he shifted in his chair and her pulse scrambled, she castigated herself mentally for her schoolgirl reaction to him. She couldn’t remember ever being so hyperaware of a man in her life. What was wrong with her? She’d come to the support group for help managing her grief, not to find a boyfriend!

Elise balled her hands in frustration and made a concerted effort to pay attention to what Kim Harrison was saying. The death of this woman’s baby was the primary reason she’d returned to the support group.

“… like Jared said last week. I think a lot about the could-have-beens. What her laugh would have sounded like, what her favorite food would have been, whether she’d have been good at sports.” Kim looked over at Elise then. “Do you ever do that? Think about what your baby might have done, who she’d have been?”

Elise’s breath snagged. “I … yeah. A lot. Almost constantly. When I’m not wondering what went wrong, what I could have done differently during my pregnancy that might have saved her, why this happened to me when she was my one shot at being a mother.”

Mrs. Bagwell frowned. “Why do you think you won’t have other children? You’re still young.”

Elise gripped the edge of her seat, startled by the older woman’s question. Taking a breath for composure, she studied the woman’s face and saw nothing but concern and confusion, not judgment. “Well, the procedure I used to get pregnant with Grace took most of my savings. Since I’m unmarried, not in a relationship and not into one-night stands, the chances of getting pregnant the natural way are pretty nonexistent.”

Mrs. Bagwell seemed unfazed by her bluntness. “I see. I’ve learned, though, never to underestimate the surprises and twists of fate life can hold. Why, by this time next year, you could be happily wed and expecting again.” The older woman punctuated her comment with a satisfied nod and sat back in her chair with a confident smile.

Elise could only gape, speechless.

“I suppose that’s true,” Joleen said. “Holding on to optimism is always a good thing, but let’s look at some ways Elise can deal with the issues she’s facing now. Kim, how do you handle those could-have-been thoughts when you have them?”

Kim glanced at her husband. “I talk about them with Greg. And here, with all of you. That helps. Sometimes I post my feelings to the online message board I’ve mentioned before.” Kim directed her attention to Elise. “I’ll give you the link. It’s another support group I found. A message board for parents who’ve lost children whether to death or kidnapping or divorce. There’s lots of information and links to great resources. You should look into it.”

Elise nodded to Kim. “Thanks. I will.”

The meeting continued, with the discussion turning to Mrs. Fenwick’s late husband, before the group adjourned promptly at the end of the hour. As promised, Kim caught up to Elise by the refreshment table and handed her a scrap of paper with a URL printed neatly in pink ink.

“Here’s the address for the message board. I know an online group seems impersonal, but the people are really helpful and sometimes it is easier to be honest about your feelings when you’re not face-to-face with the people you’re sharing with. You can be as anonymous or open with your identity as you want. I hope you’ll try it.”

Elise tucked the paper in her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll check it out.” She smiled her appreciation. This exchange of information, this opportunity to get to know the Harrisons, was exactly the reason she’d come tonight. Seizing the chance to speak privately with Kim, Elise cleared her throat and asked, “So … if you don’t mind my asking … how did your daughter die?”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about it. Because of how your daughter died and all …” Kim said, leaning toward Elise and placing a hand on her arm.

Elise shook her head. “What does Grace’s death have to do with your baby?”

Kim shrugged. “Maybe nothing. But I thought it was an odd coincidence is all.”

“Coincidence?”

“Yeah.” Kim’s face darkened. “Our little girl died at the hospital, too. Just hours after she was born.”

Chapter 2

Elise heard a buzzing in her ears, and her head swam. When her knees buckled, she groped futilely for something to brace against. As she stumbled back a step, she encountered the warm, solid wall of a chest, and a strong hand grasped her elbow, steadying her. The scent of sandalwood surrounded her, piercing her fog of shock. And she knew without looking who supported her.

“Elise?” Jared’s deep voice rumbled near her ear.

“I’m sorry.” Kim rushed forward, concern knitting her brow. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. I … I’m okay. I was just … caught off guard. Everything about losing Grace just flooded back and—” She swallowed hard and blinked at Kim as the truth the woman had shared sank in. “Your baby died at the hospital, too? I … Was she premature?”

Kim shook her head. “Right on time. To the day. But she apparently had a heart defect that our doctor missed during my pregnancy.”

An eerie prickle nipped her neck. “Her heart stopped, and they couldn’t resuscitate her,” she whispered raggedly.

Kim blinked. “Yes. How did you—?” Her eyes widened. “You mean Grace—?”

Elise’s voice stuck in her throat. The only sound she could make came out as a moan.

Behind her, Jared muttered a curse. “That sounds too suspicious to be a coincidence. The odds …”

“What hospital did you use?” Kim asked.

Elise struggled for her composure, sucking in a calming breath. “My labor started while I was out of town at a crafts fair. I went to a little hospital in Pine Mill …”

Kim frowned and shook her head. “No. We were at Crestview General.”

Something like disappointment punctured the breath Elise had been holding. As tragic and macabre as the similarities in their losses were, hope had flickered briefly that she was on to some answers regarding Grace’s mysterious death.

“So many times I’ve wondered if our baby would have made it if we’d been here in Lagniappe at St. Mary’s where they have the PICU,” Kim said.

“What-ifs are natural,” Jared said quietly, “but you can make yourself crazy with them. Don’t torture yourself, Kim.”

She lifted a corner of her mouth in acknowledgment. “Easier said than done.”

“Ready to go?” Greg asked, stepping up behind his wife.

“Sure.” Kim turned back to Elise. “See you next time?”

Elise nodded and, still rather numb with shock, searched for her voice. “I—yeah. Bye.”

As the Harrisons departed, Jared stepped around to face Elise and dipped his head to get a better look at her expression. “Are you okay?”

Elise raked her blond hair back with her fingers. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I really don’t know what to make of this.”

“It is pretty hard to believe. I mean, if this were 1811, maybe. But with modern health and medicine what it is, you’d think.” He stopped himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well … anyway.”

“The doctors should have been able to save her. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” Elise asked, meeting his gaze. Last week, she’d thought they’d reached an unspoken agreement to be candid with each other. His honesty about his grief had been at the heart of the connection she’d felt with him.

He furrowed his brow with a guilty look. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She sighed. “Tiptoeing around delicate topics is so tedious. Can we agree not to play that game? We both know it serves no purpose.”

He gave her a nod and a relieved smile. “Agreed.”

“In that case, yes. I’ve got plenty of questions about why the doctors and modern medicine didn’t save Grace. And now, in light of what Kim said about their baby dying the same way….” Elise lifted a trembling hand, flipping her palm up in frustration. “What am I supposed to make of that?”

Jared didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced toward the kitchen area where Joleen was cleaning up the last of the refreshments. “Would you like to go somewhere? Get a cup of coffee?”

“I—Don’t you need to get home? I’m sure babysitters are expensive.”

“They can be. But my mom watches Isabel when I come here.” He paused and jingled the keys in his pocket. “I know Kim just dropped a bomb on you, and I don’t want you going home alone to stew and drive yourself crazy over the news.”

Elise lifted a corner of her mouth. “That’s what I’d do. You’re right.”

“I’d be happy to be your sounding board for a while.”

When was the last time someone had offered to just listen to her, let her vent and unburden her heart? Too long. Gratitude for his thoughtfulness tugged in her chest.

“I’d like that. How about Brewer’s Café? It’s just a couple blocks from here.”

He gave a nod and a smile. “Meet you there in five.”

Jared climbed behind his steering wheel and blew out a long, cleansing breath. What the hell was he doing? Hadn’t he just told his mother tonight that he wasn’t ready to date?

“Okay, so this is not a date. Not,” he muttered to himself as he gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield into the church parking lot. Despite his denials, guilt thumped a drumbeat in his chest. “You’re just giving your support to another group member who had a shock tonight. It’s not a date.”

So why were his palms damp with sweat, and why was his conscience pricking him with images of Kelly in the last days they spent together?

Not a date. Not a date … He let the words repeat in his brain as he backed his car out of the parking space and pulled up behind Elise to follow her to Brewer’s Café.

He recalled the look in Elise’s eyes when she’d learned how the Harrisons’ baby had died, and sympathy twisted inside him. No matter how conflicted he felt about meeting Elise for coffee, he wanted to be there for her tonight. Elise was in shock and needed a friend. He could be her friend without it meaning anything else, couldn’t he?

Of course. He released a deep breath. It was not a date.

“Tell me about Isabel,” Elise said after twenty minutes of small talk. She cradled her mug of cappuccino, which had grown cold, and met his startled look with an encouraging nod.

“Are you sure? Doesn’t hearing other people talk about their kids hurt?”

She sighed. “Of course it does. But am I supposed to avoid people with kids the rest of my life?”

He took a slow deep breath. “No.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

He chuckled, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

She returned his grin. “A long shot, I know, but …”

He flipped open the wallet and turned it so she could see the bright-eyed cherub with blond curls. Elise’s breath caught, and it took a moment to recover. Like all babies, Isabel was precious, but something about her sweet smile and chubby cheeks grabbed Elise by the throat.

“Wow,” she rasped when she found enough air to talk. “Look at those curls. Believe it or not, I had curls like that when I was younger.” She tugged on her straight hair and scoffed. “I’d kill for a few natural curls now.”

“Those curls make for a pretty wild-looking bedhead after her naps, let me tell you,” he said with a soft laugh. He flipped the picture to show her another more recent shot of his daughter. Two teeth peeked from her happy grin, and she wore a lacy white dress with a matching bow in her golden-colored hair. “This was at her baptism a couple months ago.”

Elise admired the shot, fighting down the bittersweet pang clambering inside her. Opposite the picture of Isabel was a picture of a raven-haired woman with olive skin and large almond-shaped eyes. Elise pointed to the woman. “Kelly?”

He nodded.

“She was beautiful.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

Elise bit her bottom lip in thought and studied the picture of Isabel again. “I’m trying to decide which of you Isabel favors more, but …”

“But … you don’t see any resemblance to either of us. Am I right?”

“Well …”

“That’s because she was adopted. Kelly couldn’t have children.”

Elise’s gaze darted to Jared’s. “Oh … I—” She didn’t know how to respond, so she changed the subject. “So your family lives in town and helps you take care of Isabel. That’s pretty handy.”

“Yeah, most of my family is local.” He closed the wallet and put it back in his pocket. “My mom and dad live across town, and I have a brother and sister-in-law, Michelle, who live just a couple blocks away. My sister-in-law is the one who keeps her while I’m at work.” He tipped his head in inquiry. “What about you? Any family?”

“A brother who deigns to talk to his younger sister when I call him.”

Jared arched an eyebrow. “He has something against talking to family?”

“Naw. He’s just busy and doesn’t think about calling his little sister. We’re not especially close. After our mother died, our dad couldn’t be bothered with raising kids, and we ended up in foster homes. Sometimes together, more often, not. I think he put an emotional distance between us as a defense mechanism. It hurts less to be separated from someone you only care marginally about.”

Jared was quiet for a moment, studying her. “But clearly family is important to you. You make the effort to stay in touch with your brother.”

She sighed and stared at the tabletop, idly tracing a crack in the top with her finger. “Yeah. And I was planning to raise a child alone, planning to start my family even if there was no husband in the picture.” Jared didn’t comment right away, and she glanced up when she sensed his reluctance to say what was on his mind. “Go ahead … ask. Remember, we promised to be candid with each other.”

He flashed her a lopsided grin. “Right. I was just wondering why you never married.”

“I actually thought I’d found Mr. Right a few years ago, but it turns out I was too late. His wife found him first.”

He gave her an appropriately sympathetic groan.

“After that humiliation, I swore off dating for a while.” She pulled a grimace then took a sip of cold cappuccino.

He grunted and cocked his head. “A loss to all single men. Any guy would be lucky to have a date with a lovely lady like you. I hate it when the jerks go and ruin things for the rest of us honest guys.”

The comment may have been the standard polite response, but it still caught Elise off guard. She yanked her gaze up to him, and the warmth of his smile stirred a flickering pulse inside her.

“I—I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Really. I—”

Their waitress arrived just in time to save her from her fumbling. After refilling Jared’s mug, their server left their check and bustled back to the counter.

“So … you want to talk about the elephant in the room now? The reason I asked you here before you went home?” he asked.

Elise’s gut tightened. “It’s a lot to process. Accepting that Grace died of a freak heart condition hours after birth was hard enough. But to think the same type of thing happened to another couple in town within months of Grace’s death is … spooky. Unsettling.”

“Exactly.” He furrowed his brow. “Did the doctor give you a medical explanation for Grace’s death? Was an autopsy done?”

“Yes. As I understand it, there was. All they told me was she had a weak heart, and she died of heart failure. I know I should have asked more questions, but to be honest, I was kinda numb.”

“I can understand that. I remember the shock that put me in a sort of daze after Kelly died. I got through it because my family rallied around me to help.”

She gave him a wan smile. “You’re lucky to have them.”

“Yeah, I am.” He gave her a nod and a smile that said he was counting his blessings. She didn’t want to envy Jared for the support he had from his family, but the ache of loneliness she’d carried in her bones since losing Grace swamped her with a dizzying wallop.

Clearing her throat, she forged on, not wanting him to see how vulnerable and alone she felt. “So I’ve been thinking about asking the hospital for Gracie’s medical file, but I’ve been putting it off because … well, I knew it would be hard. I’m kinda torn between wanting to know all the details to find some answers and shutting it all in the past and trying to move on.”

He nodded, his gaze focused on her, letting her know he was listening. She knew he didn’t have magic answers, but having him as a sounding board helped more than she’d expected. After months of carrying so much turmoil inside, having someone to listen to her ramble and unburden herself felt incredibly good, freeing.

“I mean, I know that, being a small hospital, they didn’t have the neonatal ICU facilities that might have saved her. Like Kim was saying tonight about the lack of advanced care at Crestview General, I’ve wondered so often what would have happened if I’d not been out of town that day I went into labor.”

He rolled one palm up. “Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe babies die at smaller hospitals more frequently because of the limited facilities. I mean, years ago, women and babies died during childbirth pretty regularly.”

She bit her bottom lip, considering his point. “Maybe.”

“If I were you.” he started and waited for her to meet his gaze as if seeking permission to be so bold as to give unsolicited advice.

She locked onto the incisive spark in his eyes, hungry for whatever guidance he had. “Yeah?”

“I’d make some inquiries. See if there are reports of other cases similar to yours at that hospital. Compare what you learn to the mortality rate of bigger hospitals. Gather facts, look for a pattern, see what comes out in the wash.”

“You don’t think Grace’s case was an isolated incident?” She narrowed an intent gaze on him. “You basically said as much earlier tonight … that Kim’s loss was too similar to be a coincidence.”

He spread his hands. “I don’t know. I may have been talking out of turn. But yeah, my initial gut instinct said something fishy was going on.”

Her heart beat an anxious tattoo. “Fishy as in …?”

He waved her off. “I don’t want to speculate. Look, Kim mentioned an online community with a message board. That’s a good place to start. Arm yourself with information.”

“That I can do. Between the internet and my contacts through the newspaper, I think I can get plenty of information.”

He arched one eyebrow. “You work at the paper?”

“Staff photographer,” she said, turning the conversation to her job. Next, he told her about his position as foreman with a local, family-owned construction company. As they swapped stories about their work, education and acquaintances they had in common, the mood between them relaxed and fell into the time-honored patterns of a first date. Elise found Jared easy to talk to, and she experienced a tingling rush in her blood whenever he flashed his lopsided grin.

“Well, it worked,” she said almost an hour later when she checked her watch. “Your pleasant company has kept my mind off what Kim told me tonight and saved me from sitting alone at home agonizing over what it could mean.”

He gave her a satisfied smile. “Mission accomplished.”

“I hope I haven’t kept you too late.”

He shrugged. “My mother might be a bit worried about what kept me, but as soon as she hears I was having coffee with an attractive lady, all will be forgiven. She’s been encouraging me to start dating again.”

A knot of regret tightened in Elise’s chest. “Jared, I, uh … I’m not in a place where I … well, I’m not ready to date. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

He nodded and raised a hand. “That’s fine. I’m not sure I’m ready to date again, either. But.” He twisted his mouth in a thoughtful moue, and his eyes took on a devilish spark. “We don’t have to tell my mother. As long as she thinks we might be an item, maybe she’ll back off trying to fix me up with her single friends.”

Elise scrunched her nose in a sympathetic wince and chuckled. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” A low, melodic laugh rumbled from his chest. “And let’s just say, there is a reason some of her friends are still single.” He rolled his eyes and whistled. “So the true nature of our friendship can be our little secret. Deal?”

She laughed harder, savoring the feeling. How long had it been since she had a reason to laugh? “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He pulled a face. “Well, we might not have to take it that far, but I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d be my excuse for not meeting Linda-from-accounting or Betty-from-her-scrapbooking-club.”

She flashed him a sassy grin. “Yeah, and what do I get out of this deal?”

He leaned back in the booth and folded his arms over his chest. “An occasional cup of coffee, maybe dinner or a movie once or twice.” He winked, and his cheek tugged up in a playful grin. “And, of course, my charming company and scintillating conversation.”

“Gosh, I don’t know …” She rubbed her chin and pursed her lips as if struggling with the decision, as if agreeing would be a hardship.

In truth, the hardest part of such an agreement would be not developing any romantic feelings for Jared. He was handsome, kind, thoughtful and funny. Exactly the kind of man she could fall for—if she were looking for a boyfriend. But, as alone as she felt most of the time, involvement with a man who had a one-year-old daughter would be … torture. Anguish. She was bound to form attachments to Isabel, painful reminders of what she’d lost, bonds that would add to her grief when they were inevitably broken. Because Jared wasn’t looking for a new wife. He clearly still loved his late wife. Elise had already made the mistake of falling for a married man, and she wanted no part of a love triangle—even if the third party was a ghost.

“Wow,” Jared said with a self-deprecating scoff when she hesitated a moment too long, “I didn’t realize being my decoy was such an onerous favor to ask.”

“Oh!” With a startled laugh, she shook herself from her thoughts and reached across the table to grasp his arm. “Oh, no. I was just thinking. I’d love to have coffee with you again. It’s better than sitting home by myself stewing over tragedies.”

He gave her a comically pained expression. “Ouch. Maybe I should quit while I’m behind.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth, laughing softly. “That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean …”

Shaking his head, he grinned and slid to the end of the booth, picking up the check as he stood. “Just say goodnight, Gracie.”

Gracie.

Though she knew he was quoting George Burns from his old radio show with his wife, Elise felt the blood drain from her face, and her heartbeat slowed. Jeez, she was a mess, if just the mention of her daughter’s name still delivered an instant breath-stealing jolt.

Jared’s face fell, and he dropped back on the booth bench, reaching for her. “Cripes, I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of—”

She covered his mouth with her fingers, and his warm breath tickled her palm. “Don’t apologize. Remember—no tiptoeing around each other.”

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pressed a kiss on her palm. “Right.”

The scratch of his five o’clock shadow on her skin sent a ripple of sweet sensation to her core. Inhaling deeply to steady herself, she mustered a smile for him and said softly, “Good night, Gracie.”

Jared stayed in her thoughts as she drove home, and she caught herself smiling when she remembered his hand-kiss, his teasing, his dark bedroom eyes. Jared had been a pleasant distraction tonight, but as she parked in her driveway, her conversation with Kim replayed in her mind.

Two babies. Two hospitals. Two stopped hearts.

And Jared’s muttered curse. That sounds too suspicious to be a coincidence.

The similarities in Grace’s and the Harrisons’ baby’s deaths rankled, but what did she really know? She was no doctor. Maybe the sudden death of infants was more common than she knew. She’d heard of SIDS, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, when babies died mysteriously in their sleep. Maybe Grace’s death was related to that?

Information. As Jared suggested, she needed to gather some facts before she drew any conclusions that would serve no purpose other than making her paranoid.

She bustled into her house, a chill autumn wind following her inside. Her black-and-brown tabby, Brooke, greeted her and trotted into the kitchen, winding around Elise’s legs as she begged for her supper.

“Hey, Brookie Wookie. Hang on. Dinner’s coming.” She fixed herself a cup of chamomile tea, poured Brooke a bowl of food, then set up her laptop. Placing her mug beside her computer, Elise typed infant mortality rates in an internet search engine. Within a few key strokes, Elise had learned that Louisiana’s infant mortality rate of ten deaths per thousand births was higher than the national average. She also found breakdowns of infant deaths by race and region. The statistics, while eye-opening, didn’t provide her the detailed information she wanted.

She rocked back in her chair, and Brooke took the opportunity to hop into her lap. She idly scratched Brooke’s head and twisted her mouth in thought. Wouldn’t a hospital’s records be a matter of public information? Data on all births and deaths at a hospital would have to be reported to the government, wouldn’t it? If she could get her hands on the records of Pine Mill Hospital, she could compare the information to the state and national average.

Reaching awkwardly around Brooke to type, she tried a more specific search for Pine Mill Hospital’s yearly data, birth and infant-death totals, but hit a dead end. However the search terms infant death and Pine Mill led her to a two-year-old obituary in the Pine Mill Gazette for the infant son of a local couple.

Elise scanned the article with her heart in her throat. The baby had died of unknown causes just after his birth at Pine Mill Hospital. Her hand shaking, she hit Print to add the article to her file.

That made three infant deaths from mysterious causes within a matter of months, all in a small geographic region. Three that she knew of. How many more otherwise healthy babies had died tragically within hours of their births?

Did she dare contact the parents of the baby boy mentioned in the two-year-old obituary for more information? They could have heard of similar cases, just as she was learning of stories similar to Grace’s. She didn’t want to stir up painful memories for them without good cause.

As Jared suggested, perhaps her best move for now was to solicit information regarding similar cases. Remembering the online community message board Kim had mentioned at the grief-support meeting, Elise lifted Brooke off her lap and dug the scrap of paper with the URL out of her pocket. When she reached the home page, she created an account for herself and logged on.

On the first screen, she found a list of the most recent posts and replies. As Kim had said, the topics varied from posts about missing children, questions about legal rights and suggestions for surviving the holidays without your loved one.

She spent several minutes reading the various discussion threads and found the replies of the members to be both helpful and compassionate. No wonder Kim recommended the website. Elise sipped her tea and began mentally composing her introduction. Should she make an official request for information or simply explain what happened to her and see if it solicited replies of similar incidents?

After some thought, she chose to keep her first foray on the message board simple and see what came of it. She could always request similar stories later. At the end of her post, she gave a secondary email address she used for online shopping as her contact info. Taking a deep breath, she clicked the submit button, and her post vanished into the vast beyond. A few seconds later it appeared on the message board.

“Well, Brooke,” she said, stroking the cat’s back as the tabby rubbed against her leg. “All I can do now is wait and see who replies.”

Jared tiptoed into Isabel’s nursery and peered over the edge of her crib to check on his daughter before heading to bed himself. He could stand there for hours and never get tired of watching his little angel sleep. But as usual, the tenderness of the moment, Isabel’s innocence and late hour were a potent brew that brought a pang of grief for what Kelly was missing. And for how much he missed Kelly.

Tonight, however, his memories of Kelly were tinged with a shade of guilt. He knew the source.

Elise.

He’d had a good time with Elise, had felt comfortable talking with her, had felt natural teasing her. And had been attracted to her. Powerfully so.

Maybe that was the root of his guilt. He’d had female friends while Kelly was alive, but his attraction to Elise seemed a bit like a betrayal of Kelly’s memory. He knew he was being ridiculous. Moving on, dating again, didn’t mean he loved Kelly any less or that he’d forgotten her. If the situation was reversed, he’d want Kelly to have a second chance for love and companionship. A life partner to help her raise Isabel. In his heart, he knew Kelly would say the same for him. But his attraction to Elise still left him off-balance somehow. He wasn’t ready to start a new relationship….

Was he?

He brushed a wayward curl away from Isabel’s cheek, and a pang tugged his heart. Maybe he was unsettled being around Elise because he knew how blessed he was to have Isabel, while Elise had lost her best chance to be a parent, had been stripped of the treasure he savored every day.

He shuddered when he thought about losing Isabel. One of the reasons he and Kelly had chosen the private agency they used to adopt Isabel had been the agency’s assurances that the closed adoption process they employed meant the birth parents had forfeited all claims to Isabel. Their greatest fear had been to have one of the birth parents change their mind and try to take Isabel from them after the adoption closed. Just considering that scenario lit a fiery determination in his belly. He’d fight anyone who tried to take Isabel from him with every resource possible. Isabel was his.

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