Praise for Lois Richer and her novels

“Mother’s Day Miracle by Lois Richer is quite possibly her finest book!…The only problem with this heartwarming story about blossoming love is that it ends too soon.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Blessed Baby, another keeper by Lois Richer, will bless you.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Lois Richer’s His Answered Prayer is another winner and will please readers who love traditional story lines with new twists and terrific characters.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Baby on the Way by Lois Richer is a delightful gem that sparkles with tender poignancy…. The interaction between the characters and the emotional appeal of this story make it a must-read for romance fans.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

Mother’s Day Miracle
&
Blessed Baby
Lois Richer

MILLS & BOON

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LOIS RICHER

likes variety. From her time in human resources management to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises.

She says: “Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding, ‘Then what, Mom?’”

The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

Mother’s Day Miracle

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God.

—Romans 8:38–39

To my friend and fellow writer Lyn Cote, who is

ever and always willing to help out, coerce, cajole,

push, encourage and generally mother or bully me,

as the situation requires, into getting the job done.

From one rebel to another, thanks, chum.

Chapter One

“Dear God, I wish You’d send me a husband—”

Clarissa Cartwright chewed on her lower lip as the words echoed around the empty library. The patrons were gone now, trickling away one by one, hurrying toward family and home. She could imagine them gathered around the dinner table, laughing as they shared the day’s events with their dear ones, making plans to sample the sweet-scented spring evening with that one special person who made your heart thump in anticipation.

Clarissa sat alone, her heart longing to be included, to be part of something. To be needed.

She tried to formulate the petition in her mind, to choose just the right words so God would understand how deeply the ache went. It wasn’t hard to say it out loud. She’d been turning the words around in her heart in a silent prayer for ages, even more frequently since her cousin’s Hawaiian wedding two weeks ago.

But here in the Waseka, Missouri, town library, alone among the books she’d cared for these past ten years, Clarissa felt strangely comfortable about voicing her request to the One who’d promised to answer.

“I didn’t want to be a burden, Lord, as I was growing up. But I’m an adult now, and I’d really like to be a wife.” She hesitated, then breathed out the rest of it. “I want to be a mother.”

It sounded like such a big request, so demanding. She hurried on to quantify it, make it easier for God to fulfil. “He doesn’t have to be rich. Or even handsome.”

That sounded desperate. And she wasn’t. Just lonely.

“But not just any husband,” she modified, staring at the stained and peeling plaster ceiling as she spoke. “A man I can love with all my heart. A man who doesn’t care that I’m not young and gorgeous with lots of money, or smart, and upwardly mobile. What I really want is a man who wants to settle down and have a family. I’m so tired of being alone.”

Was that everything?

Clarissa tried to get her mind off chubby babies with rosy cheeks and fisted hands. It wasn’t easy. Lately she dreamed of babies all the time. She thrust the bundles of joy out of her mind. But her replacement vision of glistening white tulle over satin and lace didn’t help matters in the least. Clarissa twisted her homemade flowered cotton skirt between her fingers, scrunching her eyes up as tightly as she dared.

“Could You please send a man who will love me?” she whispered, whooshing the words out on a wish and a prayer.

“Excuse me?”

Clarissa opened her eyes so fast she saw stars. A man stood at her counter. A big man. He had the kind of straight black glossy hair that hung over his collar as if he hadn’t had time to get it cut. His eyes burned a deep rich chocolate in a face full of angles and planes. His lashes were—

“Excuse me, miss?” He cleared his throat and frowned at her. “Can you help me?”

Could God answer this fast? Clarissa dismissed the question almost as quickly as it entered her brain. Of course He could. He was God!

She swallowed down her surprise and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” He looked as if he wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. But when a quick glance around assured him there was no one else lurking nearby he shrugged. “I’m looking for some books on birds. They’re for my ne—son.”

He had a son. He was married. Her hopes dashed to the worn marble floor. It was all a mistake. A silly, childish mistake. This man wasn’t for her.

“Miss?”

“Yes. Yes, I heard you. I’m just thinking.” She pretended she needed time to recall that section eight held most of her books on bird-watching. “What kind of birds?”

His eyebrows rose. “What kind? I don’t know.” His brow furrowed, then he shrugged defensively. “The kind that fly, I guess. Just birds, that’s all.”

Clarissa smiled, rose from her perch behind the big oak desk and clambered awkwardly down stairs that normally gave her no problem whatsoever. “I’ll show you,” she offered and led the way.

The nature section was only two rows over. Clarissa stopped in front of it, considered the contents, then pulled out several of the largest picture books.

“Depending on how old he is, he might like these. They have wonderful illustrations.” She opened it to show him the gorgeous colors of a parrot, and then flushed with embarrassment as the hardcover tumbled to the floor.

It was a good thing the kindergarten class wasn’t here to see this. Her cast-iron rule about respecting books would be open to criticism by those curious five-year-olds.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured when he handed it back.

“It’s okay. Actually, I should have been clearer. I’m looking for something that would show some birds native to the area. Pierce is doing a project for school.”

He tossed back his hair, raking through it with one hand. Clarissa caught the fresh clean scent of soap and smiled. She liked a man who didn’t pour overpowering cologne all over himself.

You have no business liking this one, her conscience reminded. He’s married. With a son.

“Feel free to look through any of these then. Maybe you’ll find something you like.”

She stepped back, indicating the shelf. When he bent to peer at the titles without answering her, Clarissa decided his actions spoke louder than words. He hadn’t even noticed her. And why would he? Nobody noticed Clarissa. She’d become a fixture around here.

Why, I doubt anyone even noticed I’ve been gone, she told herself sternly. It wasn’t as if she had a tan to show for her vacation in Hawaii. Her skin was too fair to do anything but burn an ugly beet red that peeled in the most unbecoming way, and she’d prevented that with liberal amounts of sunblock.

Turning with a sigh, she walked slowly back up to her desk and began tallying the column titled “Lent for the Day.”

“I’ll take these. If you don’t mind, that is. I don’t have a card.” He held out four of the biggest books hesitantly. “Is that too many?”

“Certainly not. And I can make a card up for you right now. Name please?” She smiled and pulled an application form over, her pen poised to record the necessary statistics.

“Wade Featherhawk. Box 692. Telephone…”

He listed the information rapidly. Clarissa had to write quickly to get it all down.

“Good.” She picked up the card and leaflet and handed them over. “The books are due in two weeks. The library hours are posted inside the leaflet, but you can always slip the books through the slot if it’s after hours. By the way, I’m Clarissa Cartwright.” She held out her hand.

Stark, utter silence greeted her announcement. The brown-black eyes that twinkled mere moments ago now frosted over. His hand, halfway up, dropped back down by his side.

“Oh.” He took the books from her carefully, making sure that their fingers had no contact. “I, uh, I should probably tell you right off that I’m not interested.”

“I beg your pardon?” Clarissa frowned, glancing at the clock. She was two minutes late closing. Hm, according to Hawaii time, that was…

“I’m not looking for a wife.” The blunt-edged words came from lips stretched in a thin line of animosity. “I can handle the kids myself. I don’t need somebody tagging around after me, nagging me to do this or that. I can manage my life just fine.”

Clarissa froze. Surely he hadn’t heard her praying? Her face heated at the worried look in his eye. She licked her lips and stuttered out a response.

“I—I d-don’t know what you mean. I have never—”

“Look, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that Norman Paisley told me about you being single and all. Then Mrs. Nettles expounded on your assets as the perfect wife. After that a lady I’ve never met before told me how great you are at caring for people. In fact, that’s all I’ve heard for the past week.”

He didn’t sound exactly thrilled with what he learned either, Clarissa decided grimly.

She shook with the sheer humiliation of it. They were trying to marry her off again! And to the first available man who stepped into town. The heat of embarrassment clawed up her neck and flooded her face. Desperately she searched for composure while praying that he hadn’t heard her prayer.

“I’m so sorry!” She flushed again at his disparaging look and searched for the shortest possible explanation. “I was orphaned when I was young. My parents worked overseas, and I was too much of a burden. My Gran raised me. Along with half the town. They feel responsible, sort of a community of adopted parents. They’re kind of…well, rather like a big, nosy family.” Clarissa gulped, knowing she was babbling, but unable to stop.

“I’ve been away, you see. On vacation. I didn’t realize…”

She made herself stop at the less than spellbound look on his face. It was obvious he couldn’t care less. He shifted from one foot to the other in patent disinterest, politely waiting for her to stop speaking.

“Well, I just wanted to warn you that I’m not in the market.” His lips pinched tight as he glared at her. It was obvious that he hated having to spell it out.

Only when she peered into his eyes did Clarissa catch a hint of the suspicion in his eyes. Wariness. As if he were waiting. But for what? Clarissa mustered her composure, straightened her spine and smiled cooly.

“I’m sorry you felt you had to defend yourself, Mr. Featherhawk. I’ve lived here all of my life, and the people here tend to think of me as their responsibility. Rest assured, I have no intention of chasing you. In spite of what they told you, I don’t need a husband that badly.”

“Sorry. My mistake.” He frowned as if he didn’t quite believe her, but was prepared to accept it just the same. “No problem.”

The odd look he cast over her made her wonder if he hadn’t heard every word of her desperately uttered prayer, but Clarissa refused to speculate. It was done. She couldn’t change anything. Far better to keep her pride intact and pretend nothing untoward had happened here this afternoon. There would be time enough to cry over spilled milk later, at home, alone.

“The library will be closing in just a few minutes. Is there anything else I can help you with?” She kept her friendly smile in place through sheer perversity, merely nodding when he shook his head. “Fine. Have a good day.”

“You, too,” he mumbled before striding across the room and out the door.

As the heavy oak banged shut behind him, Clarissa heaved a sigh of relief mingled with regret. He was so handsome!

“Okay, God. I get the message. You’re in control. You’ll decide when and if I should get married, let alone be a mother.” She closed and locked the fine drawer, which never held more than three dollars anyway, placed her pen in the holder and pushed her chair neatly behind the big desk.

“It’s in Your hands,” she acquiesced with a sigh. “But I’m not getting any younger. I hope You keep in mind that I’m no spring chicken, and I would like to enjoy my kids while I’m still young enough to keep up with them. If I get kids, that is.”

Since there was no audible reply, or any other sign from above, Clarissa picked up the sweater she’d worn this morning, grabbed her handbag and her empty lunch sack and walked out of the musty building. It took only a second to lock the solid worn door.

Clarissa trod down the steps carefully, grateful for the fresh late-afternoon breeze that still blew. She needed a little air after her first day back at work.

A busy little town that drew on the agricultural industry surrounding it, Waseka hummed with early springtime activity. The place was so small that everybody knew everybody else, and their business. Which was part of Clarissa’s problem, but also part of the reason she loved it here.

It meant that they all knew how Harrison Harder had abandoned her the day before her wedding, to marry that city upstart who’d only been back in town for three weeks and claimed to be Clarissa’s best friend. Today the reminder of his defection only made her smile.

Harrison Harder! The same man who’d trailed after her since seventh grade, defended her from Tommy Cummings when she hadn’t needed his help, and vowed that he’d never love anyone else.

Clarissa had smiled her way through those awful days, too. The nights she spent weeping for a precious dream that had died. It was then that she’d realized that Harrison had only been the means to an end. Now she wasn’t sure she’d ever really loved him, not the way a wife needed to love her husband. He’d been her way of getting the family she craved, of avoiding having to move in with one of the great-aunts just for company.

Her minister had tried to counsel her, to tell her that sometimes God sent roadblocks so people could see they were going down the wrong path. He was staunch in his belief that God had something much better in store for her. Clarissa tried to accept that, but with every day that passed, all she felt was more empty, more alone, more of an outsider in a town where everyone had someone.

That solitary feeling magnified when Gran died three years ago and Clarissa was left with a big, old house, and a hole in her heart. Who would she love now? Would she never have the family she’d longed for ever since her parents had died?

But all that was years ago. Clarissa didn’t have any tears left for Harrison. Instead, she stubbornly clung to her dream. A family, a big, happy family where she showered all the devotion she wanted on people who would reciprocate with enough to fill her needy heart.

She ached for her own circle of love, especially now, after that wedding in Hawaii where honeymoon couples abounded. In fact, the surfeit of amorous couples found at those weddings was a perfectly good reason for avoiding the next one!

“Hi, Clarissa. Noticed you met our newest resident.” Millie Perkins giggled, her broad face wreathed in smiles. “Now there’s a fine specimen of a man. He’d make a good husband for you. And is he handsome!”

“You mean Wade Featherhawk? Yes, I met him.” Clarissa blushed, recalling that prayer. “I don’t think he’s interested in me, Millie.” Belatedly she remembered he was married.

“Nonsense! Of course he’s interested. Just doesn’t want to seem too eager is all. A man in his condition needs a good woman.” Millie thumped her purse as if that settled the matter.

In his condition? Clarissa’s radar went on high alert. She didn’t want to fix anyone else’s problems. She’d had enough of that with Billy Stuart and Lester Short, two men she’d once agreed to date. She still regretted those hastily made encounters.

“He said he was looking for a book for his son.” Clarissa half-whispered it, wondering how long it would take the older woman to spill the beans she was obviously so anxious to share.

The day had been long. Clarissa was tired and hungry and she wanted to go home. She wouldn’t tell a soul that what she really wanted was to spend some time thinking about that tall, dark man she’d met this afternoon. Instead, she prepared to hear the local’s lowdown on one Wade Featherhawk.

“You’ve been away so I’ll fill you in. Came to town the day after you left. Seems Jerry Crane is a friend of his, and Wade put a bid in on that country club Jerry’s building.” Millie stopped just long enough to gulp for air. “Jerry announced the winners last week, and first thing you know we have a new resident.” She nodded smugly, as if she’d done her share of arranging that.

“So he’s a carpenter. That’s nice.” Clarissa pushed away the thought of those big, rough hands.

“Apparently a good one, too. Or so Jerry says.” Millie huffed once more and continued. “He didn’t come alone. No, sir. He’s got a passel of kids. Not his, though. And no wife. Myrna Mahoney over at Sally’s Café told me that. The bunch of ’em were living at the motel for a while. Must have been terrible expensive. Heard they moved. She couldn’t find out where. He doesn’t talk much. The strong, silent type.”

Millie hitched up her purse, adjusted the snug skirt surrounding her burgeoning hips and shoved her hat farther down on her freshly permed hair. “I’ve gotta go, hon. Burt doesn’t like for me to be away too long when they’re seeding.”

“Yes, of course. Bye, Millie.” Clarissa, embarrassed to find herself so interested in a perfect stranger, waved politely and started toward home once more, quickly jaywalking across to the fire hall to avoid Betty Fields, whom she saw waiting on the next corner.

She opened the white picket gate that led to her yard and stepped inside, appreciating the lovely old house as she went.

“It needs a coat of paint and some work on the roof, but it’s still a great house,” she assured herself. “A perfect house for a family. With a little work.”

Dinner didn’t take long. She’d set out her pork chop to thaw that morning. As she waited for her potato to boil, she wished again for a microwave. Better yet, a family to cook for! Making food for one was so boring. Baking one potato in the oven meant heating up the whole house, and it seemed foolish to do that with electricity so high. As she pulled a bottle of blue cheese dressing out of the fridge, she caught sight of the chocolate Valentine she’d given herself.

“Should have thrown that out.” Instead, she closed the door on it, just as she’d shut down her hopes and dreams. There was no point wishing for something that was never going to happen.

Since it was still light outside after her meal and the silence inside the house was somehow depressing, Clarissa decided to finish working her flower bed. She’d always been one of the first to have pansies and petunias blooming. This year wouldn’t be any different.

It is a silly dream, she lectured herself, kneeling to insert the delicate bedding plants. Lots of people would say I’m too old to keep daydreaming about kids. Even if I had a husband who wanted them. Which I don’t.

She sighed at the hopelessness of it all and transplanted another flat of flowers.

“Can I see your birds?” A little boy with freckles on his nose and a spot of dirt on his cheek, peered through the pickets of her backyard fence. “They’re goldfinches, aren’t they?”

Clarissa thrust the dream of cherubic babies out of her mind and stared at the chubby little boy who stood impatiently waiting to enter her yard.

“No one ever uses that gate,” she murmured, frowning. “I keep it oiled, of course. But still, it’s very difficult to open.”

“I can climb over.” In a matter of seconds the little boy hiked himself over the fence. He stood before her, panting as he studied her birds. One bit of his jeans still clung to the top of the fence, but he ignored that. “How many do you got?”

“What? Oh, the birds. I’m not sure. Eight, I think. I don’t keep them caged, but they always come here for the seeds.”

“That’s ‘cause they like livin’ in the woods over there.” The child inclined his head to the wild growth of trees and shrubs that occupied the land next to hers. “Finches prefer to build their nests in low bushes or trees.”

“I expect so.” She studied him. He was a curious blend. A child, yes, but with intelligent eyes and an obvious thirst for knowledge. She remembered the man at the library. “Do you like birds?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, yes!” His face was a delight to watch, eyes shining, mouth stretched wide in a smile of pure bliss. “I collect pictures of them.” He flopped down on the grass beside her and opened the pad he carried. Inside he’d detailed a carefully organized listing of birds he’d seen, with the odd picture taped here and there. “What’s your name?”

“Clarissa Cartwright,” she told him smiling. “And yours?”

“Pete. Do you have any cookies?” His look beseeched her to say yes. “I sure am hungry.”

He couldn’t have known that was the path straight to her heart, Clarissa decided. He couldn’t possibly know how much she longed to share her special double fudge nut chip cookies with a child who would appreciate the thick chocolate chunks.

“As a matter of fact, I do have cookies. Would you like some?”

He nodded vehemently. “I’m starved! I didn’t eat nothin’ for supper.”

“Why ever not?” She frowned. Children needed good nourishing food. His parents should be more careful. She wondered who they were.

“Supper didn’t taste so good. Tildy made it an’ she burns a lot of stuff.” He glanced behind quickly, then lowered his voice. “But I’m not s’ posed to say nothin’ so’s I don’t hurt her feelings.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Clarissa got to her feet, happy to leave the planting if it meant sharing her cookies. “I’ll bring some milk out too, shall I?”

He trailed along behind her, up the stairs and in through the back door, with nary a hint of indecision.

“Do you live here all by yourself?” he asked, his face filled with curiosity as he looked around.

“Mm-hm. It was my grandmother’s house. She left it for me to live in when she died.” Clarissa set six cookies on a plate, poured two large glasses of milk, then checked to be sure Tabby the cat had some milk in her bowl. “My parents died when I was a little girl. My grandma looked after me.”

“I don’t gots no mother, neither.” Pete took the plate and obediently carried it out onto her veranda behind her. “She died. My dad, too. Me an’ my brother and my dopey sisters are the only ones left.” He took a huge bite of cookie. “I’m getting ‘dopted.”

“That’s nice.” Clarissa smiled to hide the shaft of pain she felt at the sad story. “I’m sure your new parents must love you very much.” She set the milk down and pulled out a chair.

“Enough to confine him to his room for a week if he doesn’t learn to stay in his own yard,” a husky voice informed her sardonically. “There’s something wrong with your back gate.”

Clarissa gasped at the familiar timbre of those low tones. She whirled around, her face draining of color as she met the dark forbidding gaze of the man who’d been in her library that very afternoon.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, noticing that he’d left the front gate open. She hurried to close it. “I don’t allow cats in my yard,” she told him soberly. “They bother the birds.”

“But you got a cat in your house. I seen it.” Pete’s shrill voice burst into the conversation.

“You ‘saw’ it. And Tabby doesn’t go outside.” Clarissa stood where she was, her hands buried in the voluminous pockets of her long skirt. “Are you Pete’s father?”

“His name is Pierce and you know very well that I’m his uncle. I’m sure the entire town has informed you of my existence by now. I have to tell you that I do not appreciate having to scour the neighborhood to find my nephew, Miss Cartwright.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal him!” Clarissa burst out, affronted by the implication in that low voice. “He came to look at the birds.” Another thought occurred and she whirled to face Pete, who was now enjoying his fifth cookie. “Is Pierce your real name?”

“Yeah.” Pierce looked shamefaced, his soft melting eyes begged forgiveness. “But I like people to call me Pete. It’s not so…weird.” He pocketed the last cookie, then stared up at the big man who stood towering over them both. “I’ll go home now, Uncle Wade. I’m sorry I disobeyed.”

Clarissa hadn’t thought it possible, but the stern craggy face softened, just a little.

“It’s all right this time, son. But please stay in the yard. That’s why I rented the place, so there would be room for all of you to run and jump and play without getting into trouble.” His uncle eyed the torn jeans with a rueful smile. “Another pair? How do you manage to do this, Pierce?”

“I dunno. It just happens.” Pierce shuffled down the steps, then raced around to the back of the house for his book. “See ya later,” he called to Clarissa, then vaulted over the fence with a huge leap.

“You’re his uncle?” Somehow the knowledge just now made its way to her brain. “But this afternoon you said you were looking for a book for your son. And Pete, I mean Pierce, said he was adopted.” She frowned, trying to fit it all together.

As the worst possible scenario flew into her mind, she gasped. She’d seen those milk-carton pictures for years, children who’d been stolen from one parent by another.

“You can forget whatever you’re thinking. I am their legal guardian.” His rumbly voice openly mocked her.

“They?” She pounced on the information, struggling to assimilate it all. “Who are they?”

His face twisted into a wry smile. “One of the meddlers around here really must have slipped up.”

When Clarissa only frowned in perplexity, he sighed, rolled his eyes, then thrust out one hand.

“I suppose we didn’t get off to a very good start. You already know my name. And yes, before you ask, I’m part Cree. On my mother’s side. She kept her name.” His dark fuming eyes dared her to make something of that. “My sister and her husband died and left their kids for me to look after. Tildy and Lacey are twins. They’re twelve. Jared is ten and Pierce is seven. We moved here for the work. I would have thought the gossips would have imparted at least that much.”

Clarissa took his hand and shook it, feeling the zap of his touch shiver all the way up her arm.

“I don’t listen to gossip,” she assured him in a daze.

Four children? This man was raising four children? Alone? “Welcome to Waseka.” She managed to get the words out despite the shock that held her jaw tense.

“In case you didn’t understand earlier, I think I should make one thing perfectly clear,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and shoving it into the pocket of his worn but very well fitted jeans. “I’m not looking for a wife. Despite what people think, men are as capable of parenting as women. Nobody’s going to go hungry or get abandoned or forgotten about. I promised my sister I’d care for them, and I’ll keep my word. I’ll do my duty. Me. By myself.” His lips tightened. “In spite of the locals’ opinion, I’ve been doing just fine for several months now. And I intend to keep it that way.”

She wondered why he sounded so torn about it. Then the impact of his words hit home.

“Now, just a minute here.” Clarissa felt the flush push up from her neck, right to the roots of her string-straight hair.

“No, you wait. I know what small towns are like. Nosy bunch of old fools! Everybody’s been hinting about you since the day I walked into this one-horse place. ‘Clarissa’s a wonderful cook. Clarissa’s so good with kids. Clarissa would make you the perfect wife. She just loves to care for people.’ Yak, yak, yak.” He snorted derisively, eyeing the plate that now held only a few crumbs. “I can see you’ve already been practicing your motherly wiles on my nephew.”

“Wiles? I wasn’t—”

“I’ve heard it all before, you know. Too many times. The sweet praise for a man who can care for four children. The innocent suggestion that I might need help. The generous offer to cook us a healthy meal. Out of friendship, of course! Matchmakers!” One corner of his unsmiling mouth tipped down.

“Forget about whatever you’re planning, Miss Cartwright. We’re not in the market. I don’t need the aggravation.” Wade Featherhawk turned and stomped down the walk, his face grim and forbidding.

Clarissa followed him down, her brain working furiously. “But, wait a minute. I didn’t even—”

He whirled around faster than she expected, bumping into her. One tanned hand grabbed her arm, waited until she was steady, then fell away as if it had been burned.

“No, you wait. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough. I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering. My family is doing just fine. I don’t need your interference.” His snapping black eyes told her just how little she interested him. When Clarissa didn’t back off, he smiled darkly.

“I don’t go for blondes, and even if I did, I’d pick someone strong enough to handle four kids, not a woman who looks like she’d blow away in the first storm that came along.” His eyes glinted black as ebony. “You want to mother someone, Miss Cartwright? Find your own kids.”

Clarissa cringed away from him, but she refused to allow him to get away with saying such things to her. Whatever was behind his glowering countenance, it couldn’t cover this deplorable lack of good manners.

“Believe me, Mr. Featherhawk, I wouldn’t bother to give you the time of day! But I feel sorry for those children. If you’re this cranky all the time, they must really bask in your company. A veritable joy to live with!”

Clarissa had never been so furious in her life. She stomped up the stairs, picked up Pierce’s empty glass and plate, and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind her. As usual, the door immediately flopped open, and waved back and forth on its hinges with the annoying creak it always made when ill-treated.

A burst of laughter from outside made her flush even hotter. She slapped the dishes down and whirled back to the door to face his supercilious look.

“While you’re looking for someone to share your life with, I’d make sure he knows how to build. This mausoleum is going to fall down around your ears if you don’t do something soon, Miss Cartwright. Not that I’m volunteering.” He frowned, took a step backward and shook his head. “No way! I’m not into masochism. Good night.”

Clarissa seethed with indignation. Of all the arrogant, rude, obnoxious men, Wade Featherhawk had to take the cake. She closed the door firmly on his snide words and then wondered if he’d been referring only to the house.

The phone pealed a summons and Clarissa picked it up reluctantly. Please Lord, not another busybody.

“Hi, Prissy! How was Hawaii?” Her college buddy, Blair Delayney’s bright voice echoed from the far reaches of the Rocky Mountains. “Meet any gorgeous men?”

“Nope, not a one. I’m still part of the group. How about you and Briony?” She wouldn’t say a thing about the one who’d just left her front yard.

It was an old joke. In college, all three women had planned to be married and then lost their grooms one way or another before the ceremony. Down but not out, they’d banded together, calling themselves the Three Spinsters, vowing never to go looking for love again.

The only problem was, none of them could seem to accept in their hearts that love wouldn’t find them. Someday.

“Oh, we’re both still old maids. How was the wedding?” Blair always demanded details.

“It was lovely. On the beach, at sunset. That exclusive club was something else, though I felt out of place. I didn’t know anyone except Great-Aunt Martha and she’s deaf.” Clarissa described the elegant dresses of the guests as best she could.

“I told you to take along a friend. Hawaii’s a hard place to be alone.” Blair’s voice softened in commiseration.

“Tell me about it.” Clarissa rested her cheek against the coolness of the wall. “Everywhere I went there were couples. Old ones, young ones, but always couples. Even some with kids.”

“I’m sorry, Priss.” Blair and Bri were the only two who knew how much she wanted to be a mother.

The old nickname came from her college days when she was constantly chiding them about cleaning up the apartment. It was somehow comforting to Clarissa. “Don’t be. I managed all right once the aunt left and I got to look around on my own. There’s this museum, Blair. You wouldn’t believe the stuff!”

She launched into a description of the Bishop Museum that left little time for her to recount the lonely evenings spent walking along the silver-lined sand by herself, longing for someone to share all that beauty with. By the time Blair rang off, she was hooting with laughter. Which was exactly what Clarissa wanted. No one feeling sorry for her.

She rinsed off the dishes and stacked them in the cavernous dishwasher, empty except for her dinner plate and cutlery. She considered Wade’s stinging assessment as she worked. Her lips pinched tight in anger as she remembered Pierce’s yearning look at the pie she’d made for Mr. Harper.

“We’ll see who has the last laugh, Mr. Wade Featherhawk. We’ll just see. I wouldn’t offer to help you if you begged me on bended knee!”

The mental picture this brought to mind made her burst out laughing. Wade Featherhawk, on his knees, to her?

“In your dreams, woman.” She giggled out loud. She’d often dreamed of being proposed to, but it wasn’t going to happen this time either, prayer notwithstanding. “Just forget about him.”

If only it was that easy.

Chapter Two

Two weeks later Wade glanced around the old-fashioned church and grimaced as he caught sight of Clarissa Cartwright’s willowy figure two pews ahead. Her dainty blue-and-white-flowered dress accentuated her gorgeous blond hair and the narrowness of her waist, along with other assets he forbade himself to notice. She was tiny. As he studied her clear profile and smooth white skin, his body tensed, his hands clenched and his jaw tightened. Wade told himself it was anger.

Everywhere he went these days, she seemed to be there, waiting in the wings, a silent reminder that he wasn’t a very good father, that he didn’t know diddly about parenting. That duty and obligation were no substitute for the mother’s love that the kids needed.

She never said a word, of course, but he knew she was inaudibly pointing out the fact that he didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing when it came to raising kids, especially girls.

Just his luck that Tildy and Lacey had Clarissa for a Sunday school teacher, Jared drew her as his special pal in Boys’ Club, and Pierce couldn’t stop singing the praises of her dim, moldy old library. Some luck, Wade decided grimly.

No sooner was Wade’s back turned than Clarissa invited one or the other of them over to that mausoleum. For a snack, to plan an outing, to practice a new recipe. Blah, blah, blah.

Wade was fed up to the teeth hearing about Miss Clarissa Cartwright and her wonderful life! All it did was make him look incompetent and lacking. Which he was! But he didn’t need it rubbed in.

“Good to see you here.” A man whose name Wade couldn’t remember pumped his hand up and down, his face beaming. “Glad to have you in Waseka.”

“Uh, thanks.” Wade felt vaguely ashamed of his churlish behavior. Not everyone was all bad.

“You ever bowl? We’re one short on our team and I sure wouldn’t mind getting someone who can roll a few strikes. Call me up if you’re interested. Ed Mason’s the name.”

“Thanks. I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’ll think about it.” Wade watched the other man saunter away, then turned to gather his brood. Instead, he found himself virtually alone inside the building. Now what?

He sauntered down the aisle and out the door. They were there on the lawn, all four of them, clustered around her, laughing and giggling. Probably at some remark she’d made about him. Wade felt his jaw tighten in annoyance and struggled to suppress it. Why did she get under his skin like this?

“Really? A picnic? What would we have?” That was Jared, consumed with the condition of his perpetually empty stomach.

“Mm, fried chicken, maybe? With potato salad. And watermelon scones.” Clarissa brushed a hand over Tildy’s riot of inexpertly permed curls. “Maybe some chocolate layer cake for dessert. Or strawberry shortcake. How does that sound?”

“Like I died and went to heaven.” Jared groaned, patting his ribs. “When can we go?”

“You can’t.” Wade walked up behind them, frowning in reproof at Clarissa. “Miss Cartwright has other things to do. And we can manage meals perfectly well on our own.”

“But Clarissa was going to teach me how to make fried chicken for my home ec class,” Tildy protested. “And Lacey wants to get some help with that biology paper.”

“I’ll help her. And we can buy fried chicken in town. Or make it at home. Let’s go.” He herded them toward the sidewalk. “Tildy, you, Lacey and the boys go ahead and get lunch started. I just have to stop and talk to someone for a minute. I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, Uncle Wade.” Tildy didn’t even look at him, but he could tell from the pout on her pretty face that she wasn’t happy with his edict. Her heels hit the pavement with hard, knee-jarring thumps.

Wade winced at the girl’s anger while his own temper inched up another degree. It was all her fault! All this meddling from their nosy neighbor had made the kids rebellious. He turned back toward the church with vengeance fogging his brain.

“Miss Cartwright, I asked you to leave us alone. Why can’t you respect my wishes?”

She stared at him, her eyes big pools of innocence in her long thin face.

“I didn’t encourage them. Really! It was just that Pierce mentioned it was a lovely day for bird-watching. Then Jared suggested a picnic, and I joined in his game of pretend. I wasn’t hinting anything.”

Her face, open and oh, so innocent, peered back at him.

“Yeah, right.” He led her out of the way of the crowd and off to one side. Then he stood in front of her, daring her to try to wiggle out of this one. “I’m asking you for the last time to leave my kids alone. We don’t need your help. It was nice of you to do what you’ve done, and I do appreciate it, but we’re settled in now and we’re doing just fine by ourselves.”

She looked a little surprised and confused by his words. That blank, credulous look made him say something he shouldn’t have.

“Please, lady, just leave us alone. I know you want to help but you can’t. No one can. I’ve got to do this on my own, no matter how much I might want somebody there to share the load. We’ve got to learn how to be a family together. Alone.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you,” she whispered, her face ashen. The twinkle of happiness he’d glimpsed earlier disappeared. “I just thought I could help out. I didn’t think you’d find out about the jeans or the ironing.”

Wade felt his face freeze. He allowed his gaze to slip just a little lower, to the pressed cotton of his shirt. He should have known Lacey hadn’t done it!

“They’re so busy doing chores all day, they don’t have time to play. Everything is so serious for them. I was just trying to lend a hand.” Her earnest voice pleaded with him to understand, dropped almost to a whisper. “I know what it’s like to feel as if you have to earn your keep.”

Wade felt the pain in those softly spoken words and wondered what had caused it. Clarissa Cartwright hardly looked like a little Cinderella. In spite of that, he couldn’t stem the tide of chagrin that rose in a wave of gall. How dare she go to his house, check out his family and how he provided for them? How dare she snoop through his home on the pretext of mending their worn clothes? He knew they weren’t the best, but at least they were clean and paid for. Well, most of the time they were clean.

“Look, maybe we don’t live the kind of dream life you want. I know the kids have to pitch in. But it won’t hurt them. They’ll learn accountability. Raising them is up to me, not you.” He felt a tide of red rise in his cheeks as he noticed the tiny mending stitches on the knee of his jeans.

Even in the best of all possible worlds, his nieces couldn’t sew like that, and he should have known it, would have known it if he’d paid more attention to them.

“I love those kids as if they were my very own. They’re not going to get mixed up in drugs or booze or any of that stuff as long as I’m around.” He took a deep breath and continued. “But they’re not going to have a mother, either. Not even a pretend one. And they have to face that.” He took a deep breath and went on the attack.

“So I wish you’d stop trying to weasel your way into our lives just so you can prove to everyone how much better off you’d treat them. In two words, Miss Cartwright—butt out!”

Wade turned and found several pairs of eyes on him. He knew then that the congregation had heard every word he’d said. Before the noon siren screamed across the town, they’d spread it far and wide. A surge of remorse washed over him, but he thrust it away, his mind boiling with frustration.

Maybe now these people would stop shoving Clarissa Cartwright’s single status in his face!

Wade made himself spend time talking with Pastor Mike, chatting to Jerry about the walk-in cedar closet he wanted in his house. By the time he strode down the sidewalk, hands clenched inside his pockets, most of the folks had dispersed. And that included Clarissa. He’d known the exact moment she’d scurried away, head downcast, shoulders slumped.

He forced his mind away off her and took a detour on the way home in order to concentrate on the list of jobs he’d garnered around town. With a little luck, maybe he could make enough to put some money in the bank for that rainy day that kept happening when work ran out. He was going to need a little extra cash. Especially now, with the country club project delayed.

It wasn’t five minutes before he got caught up in studying the Victorian architecture of the row of houses on Primrose Lane. He kept walking, trying to remember the details he’d planted deep in his brain last year in order to gain acceptance to the college of architecture.

As he studied gables and turrets, Wade let his mind turn over the problem of life in Waseka. He’d tried to keep to himself, tried to avoid the inevitable matchmaking. He’d been through it enough times. And every time the kids got their hopes up, he had to dash them because the woman in question always wanted something he couldn’t give. She sure wasn’t looking to take on a ready-made family that belonged to someone else. At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth was, he didn’t want the responsibility of yet another person cluttering up his life.

Wade trudged down the street with the sun beating on his head, lost in his thoughts of providing a future for four needy children who were totally dependent on him. His shoulders bowed under all that being their parent demanded, the knowledge that he was no good at responsibility nagging in the back of his brain.

He flinched in surprise when small, sharp-nailed fingers closed around his arm, pinching tight in their effort to penetrate and thus slow him down. Wade flung the hand away, then whirled around to see who was attacking him.

She stood there, sea foam eyes turbulent with temper. Clarissa might have to look up to meet his gaze, but she certainly didn’t seem intimidated. She looked more like a wasp about to sting.

“How dare you embarrass me like that? I didn’t help them out because of you! I wouldn’t do anything for you. You’re too stubborn and far too arrogant to want to help, Mr. Featherhawk.” Her words were so sharp, they could have torn a strip off him.

He waited, mentally flinching at the fury in her face, but keeping his own countenance impassive.

“Did I mention self-absorbed?” She crossed both arms across her chest and glared. “Or conceited? I did it for them, you know. Because they deserve some decent food, some time to play, a clean house and a shoulder to cry on once in a while. They’ve had to grow up awfully fast since their parents’ deaths. Can’t you let them be children for even one afternoon without lording it over them and forcing them to wallow in the drudgery?”

Oh, brother! Over the past two weeks they must have poured out the whole ugly story. As if he wanted to deprive them of anything when they’d already lost both parents. Wade sighed, his whole body sagging with tiredness as she continued her diatribe. As he waited, she slapped her hands on her hips and laughed, a harsh discordant sound that didn’t match her delicate looks.

“You’re so worried about getting trapped—who would want to marry you anyway?” She sniffed, her snubbed nose tipped upward in haughty reproof. “It’s not as if you’re the least bit pleasant to be around. I feel sorry for those kids, living with a bear like you, Wade Featherhawk. You carry a chip big enough for the whole Cree nation.”

Clarissa gave him one last huff, then turned and stomped away, her heels tap-tapping on the sidewalk. Openmouthed, Wade watched her until she closed her white picket gate, climbed the steps to her rickety old house and firmly closed the door on him. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why he’d chosen this street anyway.

Then he turned the corner toward home, his shoulders hunching forward as he thought over what she’d said.

“Way to go, bud! You’ve already got so many friends in this place, you can really afford to slap down the one person who was willing to help out, no questions asked. Smart, very smart.”

He shut his mind on that mocking inner voice and kept walking toward the park. He needed to think….

Wade wasn’t sure how much time passed before he wandered out of the park and down the street. He scanned the sky, but that didn’t help. Heritage or not, he couldn’t tell time by the sun. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the plume of smoke coming from down the street. From his house! Wade broke into a sprint that carried him through the front door and into the kitchen in less than a minute.

“Tildy? Something’s burning.” He grabbed a pot mitt and lifted the smoke-belching pan from the stove, searching for a place to set it down.

Since the counter was covered with dirty dishes and the table still held the remains of breakfast, he carried the pot outside and across the backyard to dump its charred remains into the garbage barrel.

Clarissa Cartwright stood across the alley, in her own yard, fork poised over a barbeque. She raised one eyebrow quizzically.

“Problem?” she enquired softly, glancing down at the pot.

“Not at all,” he lied.

“Oh, good. Well, if the children want to accept my invitation, I have extra steaks in the fridge and lots of potatoes right here, ready to roast. There’s apple pie for dessert and I made fresh lemonade. They’re more than welcome.”

Meaning he wasn’t? Wade sighed. No question about it. He’d burned his bridges there. She’d probably cross the street to avoid him from now on. But that was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

She turned the item on her barbeque and Wade felt his mouth water, his tongue prickle, his stomach rumble. A T-bone steak! What he wouldn’t give for a nice juicy steak on the rare side with a fluffy baked potato heaping with sour cream. And a slice of apple pie.

He closed his eyes and gulped, swallowing the gall that rose in his throat as he humbly ate crow. You didn’t take someone up on an invitation like that after you’d embarrassed them in front of half the town.

“Th-thanks anyway. But we’ve got our dinner ready.” He wished he could chuck the pot into the garbage can, too. It would take forever to clean.

“Yes, I can see that.” She gave him one last questioning look, then turned her back and lifted a sizzling steak from the grill, watching as the juices dripped onto the coals. “A little too rare, I think.” She laid it back down.

Wade swallowed again, scraped what he could out of his pot and returned to his messy, smoke-filled home with legs like cement.

As he gathered the kids around the table to munch on tasteless, white buttered bread spread with gobs of oily peanut butter, he faced the condemning looks in their eyes.

“To think we could have been eating real food. Steak,” Jared grumbled, glaring at the sandwich. “And pie. I heard her from my window. Pie!”

“Know what my Sunday school lesson was about today, Uncle Wade?” Lacey’s pretty face darkened like a thundercloud about to dump its contents all over him.

“I can’t imagine.” He chewed slowly, almost gagging when he tried to swallow the sticky concoction.

“Pride,” Lacey informed him sagely. “Silly, stupid pride. It always comes before a fall.”

“Oh. That’s nice, dear.”

A resounding silence greeted his words. Then, one by one, the kids left the table, their sandwiches torn apart, but mostly uneaten.

Wade took a gulp of water, then folded his napkin over the rest of his sandwich. He couldn’t eat another bite either.

Grimly he wondered how much damage it would do to his image to admit defeat and take them all out to the fast-food place for supper. He’d almost decided to do it when he saw Pierce sneak across the backyard and vault over her fence.

Not two minutes later the boy was sprawled on the grass, happily munching on something, his freckled face the picture of bliss as he gazed lovingly at Wade’s nemesis.

As he worked on cleaning up the kitchen, Wade had lots of time to notice that it wasn’t long before Jared, followed by Tildy and Lacey, decided to go for a walk. And when Clarissa and Pierce disappeared from her backyard, he knew exactly where all three had gone.

“Bribing them,” he muttered, viciously scraping last night’s burnt hamburger out of the frying pan. “That’s all she’s doing.”

His stomach rumbled agreement, and he threw down the pot scrubber in defeat.

“Sally’s Café is open this afternoon. I believe I’ll stop by for coffee with the boys.”

Wade pulled open the door, his toe thudding against the box that sat leaning against the closet door. Why had he hung on to his drafting table anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d ever realize that ambition. It was better to get rid of all the evidence of his aspirations to become an architect. Supporting four kids took every dime he made and more moments than he had in a day. Finding time to study would be impossible.

Wade picked up the box, opened the closet and stuffed it against the back wall, standing the rolls of vellum filled with his carefully sketched ideas behind the winter coats. He had only himself to blame—his sister, Kendra, would be living somewhere with her children if he hadn’t insisted she give her husband another chance, try to make their marriage work. That’s what had killed her and ended his dream, his insistence on avoiding his duty to her.

Wouldn’t it have been better to let Kendra move out on Roy, come and live with him, instead of asking her to work things out? He’d laid it on heavy, reminded her how much the boys needed their dad. Not because he thought Roy was any role model, but because Wade didn’t want the responsibility, didn’t want to put his own plans on hold. That had always been his problem—trying to get out of what other people expected of him.

Well, it was far too late to change it all now. All he could do was fulfill her last wish and care for them the best he knew how.

Wade sighed, closed the front door and strolled down the street toward the local café. When a light breeze ruffled the apple blossoms overhead and fluttered their petals to the ground, Wade thought he heard sweet, joyful laughter from the librarian’s house across the back alley. He ignored it and kept walking. If he didn’t get something to eat soon, his stomach was going to devour his backbone. Too bad it wouldn’t be steak.

Three weeks later Clarissa picked up the basket holding a pot pie made from her grandmother’s famous recipe. In the other hand she snuggled a basket of homemade biscuits and the carrier that protected her triple chocolate fudge cake—the one that had won a blue ribbon at the state fair.

“I don’t care what he says,” she told herself firmly as she forced open the back gate. “I promised those kids a decent meal tonight, and I am going to deliver. He can rant and rave for another two weeks if he wants. It’s no skin off my nose.”

But she hated the acrimony. She knew how hard it was for him to manage everything. The kids had told her enough for Clarissa to get the picture. Wade Featherhawk had not had an easy life and by the sounds of it, he wasn’t scheduled for a reprieve anytime soon.

Apparently life on the reservation he’d grown up on, had not been a picnic. According to the kids, there was little work and lots of bad memories. Once he’d packed the kids up and left, he’d had to fight for every opportunity to prove he did quality work. Not that he deserved a second chance, her brain piped up. He’s too cranky. But she wouldn’t dream of slighting someone’s work ethic just because he was in a bad humor.

Clarissa had heard the talk in town, of course. Awful bigoted talk about his heritage. There had even been rumors. Not that she paid them any heed. She encouraged those who had hired him to speak openly about Wade’s good solid work ethic, and the able way he completed the jobs he contracted to do. She’d asked to keep one of the extremely good sketches he’d drawn for a renovation, and showed it to several ladies she knew wanted work done on their homes.

Gradually, people in Waseka were coming to accept the little family as a permanent fixture. Or they would do if they could only stop talking about how needy the children always looked. As a hint on her behalf, Clarissa felt it was blatantly overdone.

She’d done what she could, of course. But it wasn’t easy with Wade’s orders to stay away ringing in her ears. Last night Pierce’s grumble had torn a sympathetic hole in her heart, and she was determined to repair it one way or another.

Clarissa stepped out her back door and peered across the lane, checking to make sure he wasn’t around. It was too early for him, of course. And he couldn’t know that she always took Wednesday afternoons off, or that his kids’ sitter, Mrs. Anders, had to cancel out for this afternoon.

Feeling like a burglar, she crept across her backyard, managed to yank the gate open and carry her booty across the way without dropping a thing. Jared let her into his yard with a wide smile, his lanky height towering over her.

“Hey, something smells excellent, Clarissa.”

“Why, thank you!” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I hope you enjoy it.” She watched him peering in the bushes. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find my football. I have practice tonight, and I need it.”

“Oh.” Clarissa nodded at the basket. “If you’ll carry these inside, I’ll help you look.”

Ten minutes later, her shoes muddy from traipsing through the garden, Clarissa found the missing ball behind the shed.

“Wow, thanks, Clarissa!” As he took the ball, Jared glanced up and frowned, his eyes on the kitchen window. “Uh-oh. Tildy’s in the kitchen again.”

“That’s because I said I’d help her with her home ec project. Jared, do you think you could mow the grass? It’s awfully long.” Clarissa wasn’t sure grass this long could be mowed, but it was either try to cut it now or declare the yard a part of the rain forest.

“It’s bad, I know.” Jared’s thin cheeks went a faint pink. “I’m supposed to do it every week, but our mower is broken. Uncle Wade just hasn’t had time to fix it.”

“Go across the alley and get mine, then. Okay?” She waited for his nod, then went inside, confident that he knew what he was doing. After all, she’d been paying him to do her yard work for two weeks now.

Tildy stood in the kitchen, peering into the oven.

“What are you doing, honey?”

“It’s not getting brown,” the young girl told her. “Our home ec teacher said the crust should be golden brown.”

Clarissa smiled as she closed the oven door. “The crust will get brown, just give it time. It’s supposed to bake for at least an hour at a low temperature. Now, what’s the project for tonight?”

“Coleslaw. I got the cabbage, but I don’t know what else to do with it.”

She looked so forlorn Clarissa couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, coleslaw it is. But we’ll need some room. Let’s do a little cleaning first.” Tildy frowned, but Clarissa wasn’t giving up. Opportunity didn’t knock that often. “If you load the cutlery into the sink, it can soak for a few minutes while we wipe down the counter. Put the glasses in, too.”

She showed the young girl how to organize everything efficiently so that a minimum amount of time was needed to clean.

“See, it doesn’t take that long,” she murmured, half an hour later, surveying the sparkling room with satisfaction. “Just don’t let it get so far next time. Remember the first rule?”

Tildy nodded. “Clean up as you go,” she repeated.

“Good. Now, where’s the cabbage?”

Clarissa managed to show Tildy how to mix the dressing and got her started on slicing the cabbage into tiny strips before Lacey burst into the room, her face a mass of frustration.

“I’ll never ace this dumb old biology,” she muttered. “I don’t even know where to get a frog.”

“By the creek. There are always lots of them in the spring.” Clarissa offered to help her catch one later that evening. “Hi, Pierce,” she greeted as the young boy looked in through the screen door. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a bird out here that I can’t name. And I have to. It’s important for my collection.”

“Okay, well I’ve got a book—”

The doorbell cut across her response.

“Isn’t anyone going to answer that?”

“I can’t stop now. I’m just getting good at this.” Tildy chewed her bottom lip as she concentrated on the thin strips of cabbage.

“Fine, I’ll get it.” Clarissa walked through the living room and opened the door. She almost groaned aloud. “Rita,” she greeted, calmly enough. “Can I help you?”

“I doubt it. I’m here in response to the petition to adopt these children. I have to check out their home conditions.” Social worker Rita Rotheby surged inside with all the pomp and ceremony of a battleship bound for duty as she tried to sidestep Clarissa. “Excuse me.”

“Uh, Wade isn’t here right now, Rita. Maybe it would be better if you waited until he came home.” Clarissa could picture his face if he walked in right now and found her there.

“Nonsense! Part of the information gathering has to be done when he’s absent. To see how the children are managing.”

Okay, then. It was up to her, Clarissa decided. She’d have to make sure this inspection went well.

“The children are fine. Jared is cutting the lawn.”

“Unsupervised?” Rita scribbled something down.

“I’m here,” Clarissa reminded her and had the satisfaction of seeing the woman erase the words. “Tildy is making coleslaw for her home ec project. Lacey is doing her biology and Pierce is cataloging birds.” She trailed behind the other woman, but stopped short when Rita dragged a finger over the kitchen counter. Surely she hadn’t missed a spot?

“You have dinner already made?” the woman asked Tildy in disbelief.

“Yes, and she’s got all the major food groups covered, too. Isn’t it great?” Clarissa smiled at Tildy, willing her to smile back. “As you can see, Rita, Wade is doing a fine job with these children.”

“Hm. Things do seem to have changed. For the better.” Rita inspected the laundry room and found the machines purring.

Clarissa breathed a thank you that she’d thought to start a couple of loads earlier. She followed Rita back through the house. With all the finesse of a person who has a right to be in someone else’s home, she opened the front door and smiled her best hostess smile. “Everything’s fine, Rita.”

“Well, it does seem to be. I’ll file this and send a copy of it to Mr. Featherhawk. I don’t like to do anything behind anyone’s back.” Rita surged through the door, then stopped. “Oh, there you are. I must tell you, sir, that I found a vast improvement this time. Keep up the good work.” Having given her blessing, Rita bustled down the sidewalk to her car.

Clarissa gulped, gaping at the frowning face of Wade Featherhawk. He glanced at Rita’s disappearing back, then at Clarissa, then at the house.

“It’s nice someone in this town is honest about their intentions.” His voice chewed her out for her insolence. “I thought I asked you to leave us alone.”

Clarissa carefully shut the door behind him, checked to make sure no children were around, then faced him.

“Yes, you did. And I tried to respect your wishes. But I was asked over here to help out. And I was glad to do it.” She held her head up, daring him to question her further. “Now that you’re here, I’ll be on my way.” She turned her back and walked toward the kitchen.

“There’s a load of jeans in the washer and a bunch of your shirts in the dryer. You might want to take those out before they wrinkle. Tildy, you’ve done very well with that cabbage, although I think you’ve cut a bit more than you need. Just follow the recipe I left there and you’ll be fine. Bye for now.” And gathering up her purse, Clarissa headed for the back door.

She’d hoped to get away without another lecture, but it was obvious that Wade wasn’t prepared to let this go.

“I’ll walk you out.” His fingers wrapped around her elbow determinedly.

Clarissa marched out the back door, down the steps and across the newly mown yard. Jared was now working at the side of the house.

“He must have fixed it,” Wade muttered, staring at the shorn lawn. He shook his head and focused on her. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Miss Cartwright.”

“Don’t bother! I already know what you’re going to say. You’ve told me enough times.”

She kept on walking. Or she would have if he’d let go of her arm.

“Then why—”

“Why do I keep coming back here?” She rounded on him angrily. “Because they asked me to, that’s why. And I can’t say no.” She gulped down her frustration. “I know you don’t want me here, but the children need my help. And so do you.”

“No, I don’t.” He enunciated each word with frustrated precision.

“Well, you need something. Rita is the head honcho around here, and Judge Prendergast will do whatever she recommends. If you don’t get her on your side, you’re going to lose those kids to the state welfare agency. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not!” Wade raked a hand through his hair, his face weary. “But I can’t be here all the time. I can’t do everything.”

“I know,” Clarissa told him calmly. “That’s why it makes sense for them to come to me. I’d love to help and I don’t mind in the least. I like them. I think they’re smart kids.”

“But I don’t want them to become dependent on you. They shouldn’t have to lose someone again. That’s not fair to them.”

Clarissa shrugged. “Is it fair that you lock a friend out of their lives, won’t even let me help a little by providing a meal now and again? Is it fair that Lacey and Pierce and Jared and Tildy all come to me for help and I have to send them away because you’re too stubborn to accept a little assistance once in a while?” She said the words that had begged release for days now.

“Is it fair that I can’t mother them a little?”

“Probably not,” he agreed grimly. “I don’t think it’s fair that their mother died, either. Or that I—” He stopped, clenched his jaw, then shrugged. “It’s just the way life has to be.”

Clarissa saw red. The hidden words poured out of her mouth with no regard for the consternation spreading across his glowering face.

“No, it doesn’t! Can’t you see that I only want to help these kids? I’m not asking you to be involved,” she added scornfully. “And I’m not after your money or your house or anything like that.”

“No, you’re after my kids.” His eyes glinted belligerently.

“All right! Yes, I am. I’m asking you to consider them and what it must be like to grow up like this. They can’t have friends over because there’s no one here to supervise.”

“I hired someone.” His chin jutted out as if to say “so there.”

“I know.” Clarissa nodded. “Mrs. Anders. She couldn’t come this afternoon so she asked me to stop in once they were home from school. But it’s not the same.” She continued. “They haven’t any spare time to go out with chums because there are so many chores.” She waved a hand at the house behind them.

“You talk about my house being run-down, but at least it has more than one bathroom and lots of bedrooms. This place is too small!”

As she searched his face for a hint of acquiescence, Clarissa let her heart’s desire pour out. “Why would it be so wrong to let me coddle them a little bit? I promise I’m not after you. I know I’m not wife material—I’m not beautiful or desirable or any of those things men want in a wife, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I can still be a friend to them, and a darn good one! I can love these kids and be there for them. Why won’t you let me? They’ll still love you, Wade. I would never do anything to change that.”

Wade stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He reached out and lifted a strand of her hair and tucked it back behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, sober. Clarissa steeled herself for the rebuff she knew would come.

“There’s nothing wrong with your looks, Miss Cartwright. You have a soft-spoken kind of beauty that any man in his right mind would find attractive. But I’m not that man. I have nothing to give. It’s all I can do to provide for four children. I don’t need a wife to look after, too.”

“Actually, I was in no way suggesting that. But those children are exactly why you do need a wife,” she countered, then stopped as the grim line returned to his mouth. “I’m not proposing, Wade. Really, I’m not! But will you at least let me help out once in a while? Will you come over for a meal now and then? Will you let me help Pierce with his birds and Lacey with her biology? Just until you’ve got things more settled?”

Wade studied her for a long time, but when he spoke there was a hint of amusement in his low tones. “Frankly, I’d be ecstatic if you’d take over Lacey’s biology. It’s a subject I detest, especially the dissecting. And you know very well that Pierce has never stopped questioning you about his collection, in spite of my protests.”

It was an admission, but Clarissa wanted more.

“And you’ll come for dinner? Tomorrow? No, Friday. You’ll let me help Tildy with her school cooking stuff?” She waited, her breath held till it hurt her chest.

“We’ll come for dinner on Saturday,” he finally agreed. “And I suppose it won’t hurt for Tildy to get some help, once in a while. But that’s all. Nothing more. You won’t drop over and clean the house or mend clothes or do the laundry.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you promise you won’t pretend there’s something more going on when the busybodies start talking?”

“Of course not!” Clarissa was scandalized by the very idea. “I’m just a friend, and I’d like to help you out.”

“Fine. Then I’ll help out, too.” He sniffed. “Whatever’s cooking in that oven didn’t come from Tildy’s hands. In repayment for your assistance, I’ll fix your roof.”

“Oh, but it’s just a chicken pie!” She frowned, trying to imagine how much fixing her roof would cost him. “I didn’t expect you to—”

“Take it or leave it,” he warned, but there was a glint in his eye that warmed her heart. “If you help us, we help you. Friends.”

Her decision was unfairly influenced by the drop of rain on her nose. “I’ll take it. I’ve got to get going.”

“To put pails out, no doubt. You should have had it fixed months ago.” Wade shook his head as he surveyed the sorry condition of her weathered gables and red-rimmed turrets. “I’ll come over tomorrow and take a look.”

“You don’t have to—”

His look silenced her.

“All right. Thank you very much. I’ll be at the library till eight. We stay open late on Thursday.”

“I know. Believe me, I think I’ve been told everything about you.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

“Really?” Clarissa frowned. “Like what?”

“You have this,” one finger trailed across her jaw where it curved up to meet her ear, touching the hairline scar, “because, at age six, you helped get Johnny McCabe out of a tumble-down barn. You broke this arm when Petey Somebody dared you to jump off a granary, and Sarah Kingsley stopped being your best friend when she stole all your doll babies in grade two.”

Clarissa gaped at him, nodding her head as he spoke.

“Mercy, they must be serious,” she whispered. “The townsfolk haven’t told anyone that stuff since Harrison.”

He frowned. “Harrison? Harrison was the man you were engaged to. He dumped you when your old friend came back to town. He married her instead of you.” Wade’s voice held a hint of sympathy. “What a jerk!”

“Harrison wasn’t a jerk,” she murmured, staring into Wade’s knowing gaze. “He was just confused. I wasn’t what he wanted, but Grace was. She was very beautiful, just like a model. I couldn’t compete with that.”

“He was a fool. Beauty goes a lot deeper than the skin.” Wade’s hand dropped away from her face as he took a deep breath. His eyes hardened. “But don’t get any ideas, Miss Cartwright. I’m not in the market for a wife. And I am not Harrison’s replacement. Not in a million years.”

The pain he inflicted with those words bit deep and it was all she could do not to burst into tears. She didn’t want someone to replace Harrison! She wanted someone better than him, a man who would think she was as wonderful as Harrison found Grace; she wanted a storybook kind of love.

Clarissa walked out of his yard, crossed the alley and yanked her own gate open. She stopped, turned and stared at him, only then realizing that he’d followed her.

“No, you’re not him,” she agreed quietly. “I don’t think anyone could ever replace Harrison in my life.” Then she closed the gate, walked across the yard and into her big empty house.

“Harrison was a sign,” she whispered as she stared out the window at the falling rain. “A sign that I’m supposed to be alone. And you, Wade Featherhawk, just confirmed it.”

She forgot all about the pails as tears, hot and bitter, coursed down her cheeks. How it hurt, to have those children there and not to be able to love them as she wanted, to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sobbed to the Lord, determination setting her jaw. “I’ll be their mother in my heart. He can’t stop me from loving them. No one can.”

But as the tears dried and her heart calmed, Clarissa couldn’t help remembering the look on Wade’s face. He’d wanted to let her help, wanted to let her in. She’d seen that.

So why didn’t he? Why was he so afraid to trust, let her into his world?

Chapter Three

Eight weeks to the day after he’d moved to Waseka, Wade pulled up to the curb in front of his house at five minutes to six, and parked, grinding the gears as he hadn’t done since he was thirteen. He forced himself to open the truck door, even though every muscle in his body begged him to just sit there and vegetate.

Man, he was tired. He couldn’t ever remember being this bone weary before. His eyes were bleary and unfocused and his hand wasn’t steady. Maybe if he put his head down, just for a moment, maybe then he could get his second wind. Or third.

“Wade?”

Oh, no, not her again! Wade huffed out a great puff of air, his brain groaning. What now?

“Wade, I think you’d better open your eyes and listen to me.”

Clarissa’s soft voice sounded deadly serious. He blinked his eyes open. Her face was white. Of course, it was always pale, but now it had lost all color. Her eyes were red and her hands blackened, as if she’d been playing in the dirt. There were the smudges all over her long floaty skirt.

How many times had he dreamed of that skirt?

“Wade? There was a fire.”

He jerked awake, his brain revving into high gear. “The kids?”

“They’re fine. They’re at my place.” She took a deep breath. “That’s not all.”

Not all? Wasn’t that enough? What else could there be? He tried to focus on what she was saying. “Huh?”

“Rita was here today, doing another inspection. She’s, um, pretty steamed.”

“Why?” He eased himself out of the truck, knowing he had to move but wincing at every budge of his smarting muscles. “What happened?”

“You’d better look for yourself.”

Her delicate hands helped him stumble to the sidewalk and up the path. She pushed open the front door and guided him inside.

The living room was littered with stuff, as usual. Smoky, water-soaked stuff, he noticed. Dishes cluttered the kitchen counter and food sat on the table as flies buzzed over it. A huge black spot covered the ceiling, most of the stove and a section of the floor.

He shuddered, immediately alert to the fact that he could hear no children’s voices. “What happened?”

“Tildy was frying. The oil caught on fire.”

That woke him up. He gulped at the idea of his lovely young niece covered in burns.

“She was trying to help Pierce and forgot to pay attention. Jared saw it start and thought he could put it out with a dish towel. That caught on fire too.” She pointed to the corner. “The oil set the cloth alight and when he tossed it to the floor, it caught onto the laundry Lacey was going to wash. I saw smoke and came over. By the time I got here, Pierce had finally found a fire extinguisher and put it out, but by then Rita had already arrived.”

“But where was Mrs. Anders?”

“Apparently the hospital called to say her husband had a heart attack. She told the kids to call me when she couldn’t reach you, but they didn’t want to be a bother. I think Tildy was afraid I’d make her wait to fry. She’s desperate to get an A in that class.”

It was clear to Wade by the glint in her eyes that Clarissa felt the children were reciting his precise words. He clenched his fists, drew a breath and summoned all his courage.

“And? You might as well spit out the rest of it.” His heart dropped to his boots as he surveyed the damage and considered how much worse off they could have been.

“Rita told me to take the kids. I wanted to call you but no one knew where you were.” There was a hint of censure in her voice. “I tried to stall her, but she’d already made her decision by then.”

Wade saw her swallow, heard her voice drop, and knew the worst had happened.

“I think she’s going to recommend foster care, Wade.”

“She can’t!” He couldn’t bear the thought of it, his sister’s kids split apart, separated, living with people who wouldn’t understand them. His own life, empty and barren of the joy they brought, the small glimpses of his sister he caught in each child. Worst of all, the promise would be broken.

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “She can’t.”

“Yes, Wade. She can. I just wanted to warn you.” Clarissa didn’t meet his glance, but stood staring at her feet, her head bowed in sadness.

Wade stared at the mess he’d made of things. “I should have been here, should have been nearby. Why did I have to pick this afternoon to run to the city for supplies?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Her head lifted as if she’d come to some decision. She studied his face for a long moment, then tugged at his arm. “Come on, Wade.”

“It does matter.” He felt the responsibility and almost bowed under it. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. They could have died. I should have managed better. No matter how hard I try, I never seem to get it right. I messed up here. Again.” He couldn’t look her in the eye, knew he’d see condemnation.

Clarissa’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m sure you’ve done the best you could. No one was hurt. And it’s not anyone’s fault. Accidents happen.” She pushed against his chest. “Come with me. I’ve already called the insurance agency. It’s the only one in town, remember. Your renter’s policy covers most of the damage, they think. But you can’t stay here. Not till they’ve assessed the damage.”

He stared at her, his mind numb with the realization that his little family was now homeless. His brain wouldn’t move on from that. He felt the tug on his arm as if through a fog. “Oh. No, I suppose not. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can you get up?”

Dimly Wade realized that sometime during their conversation he’d flopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs. His eyes noted the places where fire had singed the flooring, and he shivered at the thought of what might have happened.

“Wade?”

“What?” He blinked and refocused on her, forcing his mind to function. “Oh. Get up? Why?”

“You need a shower and something to eat, for one thing. You can have that at my place. The water heater’s turned off here. The firemen said it was better that way. Come on.”

He managed to get up and stumble to the back door, grateful for her calm even voice and the gentle hand under his arm. His brain couldn’t take it all in. It was like a bad dream.

A pile of charred bits of fabric lay outside the back door. Wade stopped in his tracks and stared. He couldn’t seem to move his eyes away, couldn’t stop imagining the scars…

“Wade, listen to me.” Clarissa turned his face toward her, her palms cool again his cheeks.

She felt good, he decided. Soothing. He didn’t even try to free himself. Her flower-soft fragrance tickled his nose. Roses, he thought. Or lavender maybe. Something like his mother would have worn.

Her eyes were clear and calm. “You have to get out of here now, Wade. Everybody is fine. They’re okay. Come on, let’s keep going.”

He moved on only because he knew she would nag him until he did. He walked across the grass, and into her yard with its pretty flowers and trim grass, marveling at the contrast between the two houses. His fingers curled around her small soft hand. Such a tiny hand to be so competent.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled when her other hand slid under his arm. He forced his rubber legs to move one foot in front of the other.

“Of course you are. Three steps up now.” There was a hint of amused mockery in her quiet tones.

“I’m just worried about the kids. My boots—”

“Are fine.” She urged him inside. “Sit down here and drink this.”

He took the cup from her fingers and sipped the dark steaming brew. “I don’t take sugar.”

“Today you do. Drink it.” There was no room for argument in that prim order.

Wade drank, his mind picturing that awful scene again.

“They’re fine, Wade. See, there’s Pierce working on his birds in the front yard. And Tildy’s sitting out there, too. With Ryan Adams. Lacey’s over in the park. You can just see her red shirt through the trees.” She pointed.

Wade followed the direction and caught sight of Lacey’s favorite blouse. “Jared?” he choked, his heart swelling with relief.

“I’m right here. I’m trying to fix this stupid—uh, broken cupboard.” Jared came to stand before his uncle. He frowned. “You don’t look too good, Uncle Wade.”

“That’s funny. I feel fine. Just fine.” Wade noticed his sister’s distinct features in the tall boy and felt the guilt wash over him again. He was growing up so fast. “Are you all right, son?”

“Of course. We all are. Clarissa’s taking care of things. That’s okay, isn’t it, Uncle Wade?” Jared’s face contorted with worry. “You’re not mad that we got her? Tildy didn’t mean to do it, you know. It was an accident.”

“I know. No. It’s perfect. Okay, I mean.” Wade glanced around with bleary eyes, noting the sparkling kitchen, the yeasty fragrance of fresh baked bread, the utter hominess of it all. No matter what he did, his kitchen had never looked like this. He noticed Jared’s frown and refocused.

“It’s just fine,” he repeated, then stopped when his stomach began a low but very audible rumbling.

“Jared, will you show your uncle where the shower is? And here are some fresh towels. As soon as he’s ready, we’ll have dinner.” Clarissa smiled, her eyes meeting Wade’s. “Go ahead. Everything is all right. I’ll watch them for you. We’ll talk later.”

Wade followed Jared up the stairs, easing up on the balustrade when he felt it give under his weight.

“Another thing to be fixed,” he muttered, trying to smother a yawn. “This house sure needs a lot of catch-up work.”

“You should have let me help you finish MacGregor’s roof last night,” Jared told him, frowning. “I can do stuff. Besides, you can’t work morning, noon and night, Uncle Wade. Nobody can. You’ll burn out. I heard the teachers talking about it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make a home for you kids. I promised your mom, and I’m not breaking that promise.” Wade let himself be led into the bathroom. He accepted the armload of towels and listened as Jared explained the old-fashioned shower.

“Make sure you keep that curtain in the tub or Clarissa’s place will be flooded,” the boy ordered, frowning up at him as if he wasn’t sure Wade understood.

“Uh-huh. Curtain inside. Got it.” Wade repeated the words mindlessly, unable to hang onto any thought other than that the kids were all right.

After a long searching look at his uncle, Jared left the bathroom, apparently satisfied that Wade could manage on his own. Wade grinned at such consideration, but decided it was rather endearing coming from the boy.

He stripped off his clothes, fully conscious of how much dust he was leaving in the pretty lavender-and-white bathroom. He’d spent the sunrise hours of this morning replacing hundred-year-old attic shavings with insulation so that the owners could move in right away. Most of the dust had settled somewhere on him.

As he felt the warm sting of the water trickle over his aching body, Wade closed his eyes and searched for an answer.

Please God, what should I do now? I can’t give up Kendra’s kids. I just can’t. I promised her.

Sometime later, Wade didn’t know how long, the water grew cool, then the chill of it finally penetrated to his brain. He turned the taps off and grabbed a towel, rubbing himself fiercely to warm up.

Someone, Jared maybe, had set some clean clothes on the toilet seat. He pulled them on automatically, barely noting the newly replaced buttons and carefully stitched tears.

Then he sat down to think.

He had to do something. Figure out something. He wasn’t going to lose Kendra’s kids. Not now. He’d promised and, no matter what it cost, this time he was keeping his promise. He wasn’t going to mess up again, social worker or no.

His eye caught sight of the silk lavender bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. Clarissa was a lavender kind of woman. Her pale skin and silver-streaked hair would look perfect in the color. A pair of slippers lay on the floor, and he imagined her padding around this old house in the morning.

He’d seen her several times when he’d risen early. She always put out birdseed first thing. Then he’d catch the hint of fresh brewed coffee and pretty soon she’d be sitting at the table by the bay window, sipping it as she watched the birds peck at their meal. It took her a long time to wake up, but eventually she’d move, and Wade would catch the aroma of frying bacon or grilling sausages.

Now that the weather was warmer, she’d begun eating outside, sharing her breakfast with whatever came along. Then she’d pull up a few weeds, water her garden, finish her coffee and undo her hair.

Wade always liked watching her brush out her hair, though he felt a bit embarrassed, like a Peeping Tom or something. But once she undid that knot on top, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He would never have believed her hair was so long, not when she wound it up on the top of her head like that. Free and cascading down her back, it flowed well past her waist in a river of sparkling silver.

A shrill childish laugh penetrated his musing and Wade got up to look out the small bathroom window. Pierce was pointing at a tree and ordering everyone to look. Seconds later Clarissa came outside, a big book in her hands. She and Pierce sat together on the grass and searched through the pages until they found what they wanted. Wade watched as Pierce leaned his head on Clarissa’s shoulder, his voice barely audible on the late afternoon air.

“Am I a nerd, Clarissa?”

“Of course not! I don’t know many children who could identify as many birds as you can, Pierce. Why would you think such a thing?” She sounded truly amazed by his question.

“That’s what the kids call me. They say it’s stupid to spend so much time on birds.” Pierce shrugged. “Maybe they’re right. I don’t play their games very well.”

As Wade watched, Clarissa hugged the little boy closer.

“Listen, sweetheart. Everybody has different interests. You like birds, and there’s not one thing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with games, either. The problem comes when we make fun of other people for their choices.”

“But I don’t fit in! I don’t even know how to catch a ball.”

Pierce’s rueful tones told Wade that catching a ball was very important, and Wade chewed himself out for not spending more time with the boy.

“Then we’ll have to practice. That’s not such a hard thing to learn. Not like a baby bird learning to fly, for goodness sake.” Clarissa’s beautiful smile coaxed him to join in and a minute later Pierce called his big brother to help him practice.

“She’s good,” Wade muttered to himself in admiration. “She’s very, very good with them.”

“I got the frog, but I lost the guy.” That was Lacey, glum with disappointment as she flopped down on the lawn beside Clarissa. “What is it with this biology stuff?”

“Oh? Didn’t Kevin want to study with you?” Clarissa sounded amused. “He certainly rushed over here quickly when he heard about the fire.”

Wade frowned. Who the dickens was Kevin? And what did the kid want with his niece?

“Kevin had to go home for supper.” Lacey sprawled on the grass, bare feet nestling into Clarissa’s skirt. “Honestly, he’s so smart, I feel like a dud.”

“He’s not smart about everything.” Clarissa fiddled with her skirt, but Wade caught the glimmer of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “I happen to know that he’s only recently taken to studying biology. You might ask him for help with your own work.”

“You mean like spend a date dissecting a frog?” Lacey made a face. “Ugh!”

“Well, why not? You’d get to spend time together. Anyway, you’re too young to date.”

Wade watched as Clarissa rose lithely to her feet, her hand gently smoothing the other girl’s hair.

“Think about it,” she murmured. “I’ve got to check the kitchen. I think Tildy’s forgotten something.”

Wade adjusted his position and spotted the tiny funnel cloud of smoke coming out the back screen door. He groaned. “How many times is it going to take for that girl?”

When no one answered him, he realized he was talking to himself. Gathering up his dirty clothes, he headed downstairs to face the reality of his messed-up life.

“Tildy, honey, you have to set the timer. Then things won’t burn, even if you do forget. The timer will remind you.”

“How many cakes is that?” Tildy’s tearful voice warned Wade that she’d been at it for a while. So did the acrid odor of smoldering sugar.

“It’s only a bit of flour and sugar, Tildy. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just try again after supper. Okay?”

A huge sigh. “Okay. Thanks a lot, Clarissa. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Wade walked in just as Clarissa hugged his niece. He stood there, studying their obvious camaraderie for a long time. It was only when she touched his arm, that he realized Clarissa had been speaking to him. He jerked to attention, pushing his thoughts away. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I’ll take the clothes and put them in the washer. You sit down. We’re all ready.” In a matter of seconds she had the others gathered around her worn oak table. “I’ll just say grace.”

Wade automatically bowed his head, listening to her few soft words of thanks.

“Now, if you could slice this roast, we’ll be all ready.” She handed him the carving knife and a platter with a piece of succulent beef sitting in the middle of it, juices dark and tantalizingly pooled around it.

Wade watched as she set out a heaping dish of mashed potatoes, peas, gravy, fresh rolls and a salad. His mouth watered. His stomach rumbled again, more loudly this time. The kids burst out laughing.

And suddenly, with piercing clarity, he knew exactly what he had to do. Wade set down the carving knife beside his plate, focusing his entire attention on Clarissa’s face.

“I need to say something before we start.”

“Yes?” Clarissa looked up from pouring Pierce a glass of milk. There was mild interest in her eyes, but nothing more. It was obvious that she had no idea of his intentions.

“Clarissa, uh…” He stopped, looked around and realized that everyone was staring at him. He couldn’t do this now, not here, in front of the kids!

“Yes?” Clarissa set the milk jug down on the counter, seated herself and carefully spread her napkin in her lap. “Pass the potatoes around, please, Jared.”

Wade frowned. He really should do this properly, in private, where she’d pay full attention to him, listen to all his arguments. Yeah, later.

He glanced around the table. The kids were gawking at him, their mouths hanging open in amazement as he ladled yet another spoonful of peas onto his plate.

“I didn’t know you liked peas so much, Uncle Wade.” Tildy almost hid the laugh that tilted up the side of her pretty mouth.

“What? Oh. Sorry. Here, Pierce, take some of these.” He pushed half the plateful onto the boy’s plate, opened one of the golden rolls and watched the butter he spread on it melt into a puddle of soft creamy yellow.

Yes, marriage was the only way to go now. He didn’t have a choice, not if he intended to keep his promise. His wants, needs, had to come second to what was best for the kids. With Clarissa as their stepmother, no court could deny the children her tender caring. He could only hope she still wanted a family.

“Clarissa, I—” He stopped again, searching for the right way to ask her for a date. Sort of. Not a real date, of course.

“Go ahead, Wade. I’m listening.” She smiled that gentle, Mona-Lisa-like smile that made his palms sweat, but her attention wasn’t on him. “Use your fork please, Pierce. Tildy, would you open the window a bit more? It’s quite hot in here. What did you want to say, Wade?”

When no answer was forthcoming after several minutes, Clarissa looked up. She stopped spooning out potatoes for just one moment, stared at him inquisitively, then glanced around the table at the curious faces that watched him so closely. Finally, she broke the silence, her eyes darker as they studied him.

“Go ahead, children. Eat your dinner. We’ve some homework to do later. Your uncle is tired. Let him relax.”

Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as one by one, the kids took up the signal, dishing up her food like locusts on a field of tender green shoots. Soon the conversation was going a mile a minute. Wade decided to go with the flow. He picked up the salad and filled his bowl.

“Clarissa’s house is a great place, Uncle Wade. Do you know she’s got a screen porch back there? I’m gonna sit out there tonight and watch the fireflies. Some people around here call them lightning bugs. Isn’t that a silly name?”

Pierce chatted away a mile a minute, and Wade let him, content to eat while he examined Clarissa’s ability to get his whole family involved in the conversation.

How did she do that? The most he got some nights was a grunt or a heap of complaints. Of course, it wasn’t while they were eating food like this!

Jared looked pleased by his reasoning.

“Yeah! And we can live in this house, right, Uncle Wade? For a little while anyway.” He grinned happily. “I love this old house. It’s kinda like staying with an old friend. It’s got some problems, but it’s homey.”

The words stabbed Wade with the wealth of longing he could hear beneath those words. He had no idea the boy felt that way. When had they ever hung around anywhere long enough to make old friends? Of course, he’d lost a lot. Kendra had a knack for making her house a home, probably because she’d loved her kids so much.

“I think it’s a romantic house with all these crocheted curtains, and especially those frilly things over Clarissa’s bed.”

Lacey sighed and hugged herself in a melodramatic way that Wade knew meant she’d been reading sappy love stories again. Oh well, she’d run into reality soon enough. Why spoil the illusion of happy ever after?

“If we lived here all the time, I could take all kinds of pictures of the birds. Clarissa’s got way better birds than we have, plus she’s got the woods right out there. We’ve just got that dumb old playground, and the noise scares them away. Can I have some more meat? Please?”

The topic of the conversation said nothing, merely smiling at the children as they talked and munching on the minuscule amounts of food she placed on her own plate.

Though Wade spent a long time studying her, Clarissa did not return his look. She waited, hands folded in her lap, until everyone was finished, then gathered up the plates.

“Would anyone like some peach cobbler?” She lifted a golden delicacy from the oven. “I have some ice cream to go with it.”

Wade closed his eyes and breathed. Heaven help him! Peach cobbler was his favorite dessert. And no one had ever made it better than his sister. The words brought back fond memories of their times together on the reservation when they’d had to depend on each other for companionship. They’d picked peaches one year and earned enough money to buy bikes. They’d also taken home cases and cases of the ripened peaches, until his mother had begged them to stop.

How had Clarissa found out?

Wade jerked up his head to study her, his eyes narrowed as he tried to search out some hint that she’d known about his past. But Clarissa simply stared at him with that bland smile, holding out a dish, ice cream melting on top, as she waited patiently for his response.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured when he didn’t take it. “Perhaps you’d rather have something else? I know some people don’t care for peaches.”

“I’ll try it,” Wade managed to say and took the dish from her hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Coffee?”

Wade tried three helpings of the dessert, and by then he knew that he’d done the right thing in deciding to propose to her. A man didn’t find a woman like Clarissa Cartwright every day, not one who made peach cobbler that melted in your mouth, or one who could dissect a frog without wincing. There sure weren’t many women who’d calmly take in five people, feed, shelter and care for them as if it weren’t a stitch out of the usual routine.

He’d better hang on to her before somebody else beat him to the punch. After all, hadn’t she been praying to get married the day he’d met her? Wade was pretty sure he wasn’t an answer to prayer, but she would get her family. That ought to make a difference.

“We’ll do the dishes, Clarissa. You and Uncle Wade go have coffee on the veranda,” Tildy ordered. “I’m sure you have things to talk about.”

Wade noticed a sparkle in her eye that hadn’t been there before. Had his niece figured out what he was going to do? If she had, Wade dearly hoped she’d shut up about it until he got everything arranged.

Would Clarissa agree to his preposterous scheme?

He helped the thin, silent woman into the big woven willow chair, handed her a cup of well-creamed coffee, then took his own seat. He set down his mug and faced her.

“Clarissa?”

“Yes?” She calmly sipped her drink, her eyes on the blooming apple tree in the garden outside.

Wade felt his temperature begin to rise at her obvious disinterest in what he was saying. For the kids, he reminded himself as he licked a crumb of peach cobbler off the edge of his lip. He was doing this for the kids.

“Would you marry me?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She said it so matter-of-factly, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“What? Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you only want someone to look after the kids until you can get things straight with Rita. We can do that without getting married.” She avoided his eyes, peering up into the sky instead. “You don’t have to marry me to get my help. I’ve already offered a number of times. Remember?”

Wade flushed. He’d been rude with his refusal, and he’d hurt her feelings. Besides, what woman wanted to be proposed to like that? He could at least make this part of it special. He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut as she spoke.

“Don’t worry about it, Wade. It will all work out. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. You just have to trust God to handle these things.”

He took a deep breath, hating the idea of spilling his guts, but knowing he was going to have to open up a little, let her inside. He hated that, hated feeling exposed and vulnerable to anyone. It only made it easier to see how many mistakes he’d made.

So why did he have this strange feeling that he could count on this woman?

“I do trust God, but I am also worried, Clarissa. I made a pact with my sister. Before she died, I promised I would take care of her kids, that I’d keep them together, raise them as my own. I vowed that I wouldn’t let them get into the trouble I’ve had.” He gulped. “So far, I’m doing a lousy job.”

“I think you’re doing very well.” Clarissa motioned toward his house. “That was just an accident. I’m sure Rita will come to understand that. In time.”

“It’s an accident that shouldn’t have happened. I should have done better for them. They need someone to help them through the tough parts. I wasn’t thinking properly, you see. I thought giving them a home and food and a sense of security was what they needed most.”

Clarissa smiled, her face thoughtful. “It’s a good deal to ask of anyone,” she murmured. “The children have done very well under your care.”

He flushed with pleasure. “Maybe. But I have a hunch they’d do even better with you as their stepmother.” He said it deliberately, wanting to shake her out of this Mona Lisa stupor she’d sunken into. When that didn’t work, Wade kept talking.

“I’m not very good at listening to what they’re not saying, to finding out what’s bothering them. And I can’t be there all the time, even though I’d like to be. But I really do want the best for them.”

Clarissa nodded. “You don’t have to convince me. I know that anybody who got to love those children would be very happy.” She said it mildly, her fingers busy fiddling with her skirt again. It was the only sign that she was in the least bit nervous, but Wade took courage from that.

“So, will you marry me?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

Wade huffed out a sigh, half anger, half frustration. “I don’t get it. You love kids, you want to be married, you’re not involved with anyone else. Are you?” He frowned, then relaxed when she shook her head.

“No.”

“So why not? I’m not an ogre. I do an honest job. I’m fair with my employers and with the kids. I’m certainly not rich, but we’re managing. What else is there?”

“Love.”

The whispered word made him frown. “Clarissa, I’ve told you I like you. I think you’re a very special person.” He couldn’t say more than that, couldn’t tell her that he thought she had grit and gumption and an inner strength that he admired. It wasn’t, well, romantic.

Clarissa shook her head as she smiled, her eyes avoiding his. “I’m not talking about special. Special is a mean-anything word.” It was clear that she held little stock in the term. “I’m talking about love, Wade. The real thing that holds marriages together long after the children have left and the attraction has gone. The deep abiding commitment that two people make to each other until death does them part.”

“But that’s what I’m offering. At least…” Wade was beginning to wish he’d never opened his big mouth. A man shouldn’t have to work this hard to convince someone to marry him!

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head again and a few curling tendrils tumbled loose of her topknot. “You see me as this sad spinster woman who’s shriveling up inside, don’t you? And maybe I am. But I believe in the power of love to change people, to change lives.” She finally met his stare, her eyes intent. “Do you?”

He nodded slowly, visualizing the kids in ten years. “I believe your love could transform those children into even better adults. And you do love them, don’t you, Clarissa?” He waited, hoping she wouldn’t deny what was so obviously the truth.

“Of course.” She didn’t even bother to pretend.

“So do I. And that’s what this is all about. You and I are adults. We know the score, we know how many marriages fail even with love. We also know that lots of people have happy marriages without love.” He took a deep breath and continued, praying for guidance through this minefield.

“I’m offering a commitment to you. I won’t walk out on you or them, Clarissa. I will never walk away. I like you. I respect and admire you. And I want you to marry me.”

“For the children?”

He nodded. “I won’t lie. For the children. To keep them together, to give them the kind of home they won’t have if they go into foster care. Because I think you care enough about them to help me keep them together.”

She sat back in her chair, her eyes closed, head tilted back against the soft cushion as if she were praying. Wade sat there, studying her. Even with only her grandmother, Wade knew she’d enjoyed all the things he’d missed out on in his childhood, all the things he wanted for the kids.

“It would be good for you, too. You want a family, somebody to eat all that wonderful cooking, to share this place. Someone to laugh with and enjoy life. I know you’d be taking on an awful lot, but I believe you’re the kind of woman who can do that and enjoy it.” Hadn’t he seen that for himself? Wade let a tiny bit of his heart unfold to her.

“This way, you’d get to mother the kids the way you would your own. You wouldn’t have to work if you didn’t want to. I’d provide a home for us, either here or in a new place altogether, if that’s what you want.”

She was watching him now, her eyes shadowed, hiding her thoughts. Wade couldn’t tell if she was buying into the dream or not, so he played the only card he had left.

“Love could happen, Clarissa. Maybe someday. You’re a very beautiful woman, you know. When you relax and forget to be so prim and prissy, your natural beauty shines through. That’s why the kids latched on to you so quick. They’re good judges of character.”

If Wade was sure of one thing in his life it was that Clarissa Cartwright was decent, caring, loyal and true. She wouldn’t run away or back out of a deal because of something in his past. So there was no need to tell her.

Was there?

Her huffy voice broke into his thoughts. “I am not in the least prim!”

“Yes, you are. But in the nicest way.” He grinned. He was getting to her, he could tell.

Silence.

Then she spoke again.

“All right, Wade.” Her voice carried to him softly, barely audible above the crickets. “I will marry you. For the children.”

A wave of relief swelled, then cascaded all over him. Wade sighed his relief, stood and drew her up to stand beside him. In the dim light from the living room he could barely see into her eyes. She looked soft, vulnerable in the wash of twilight that made her round, solemn eyes seem lonely. He wanted to reassure her that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake in her life taking him on.

“No, that isn’t quite right.” He shook his head, suddenly wanting their relationship to be more than that. “Not just for the children. For us, too. We’ll make something good of this marriage, Clarissa. I promise you that.”

As he tilted her chin and leaned down to touch her lips with his in a promise, Wade shoved thoughts of the past out of his mind and concentrated on the shy, timid, butterfly-woman in his arms. Her lips were soft, untried, and he touched them reverently, asking a question.

When her arms lifted to encircle his neck and her mouth molded to his, he thought he had his answer. The tiny fire of hope flickering inside his heart told him they would make this work.

Only later, when he was checking into the motel, did it dawn on him that he was doing the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do. Wade would be starting his married life with a lie. He would never allow love to blossom in his heart.

But for now, there wasn’t any other way. He needed Clarissa.

Chapter Four

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Blair. And you, too, Briony. You’ve made it the perfect day.” Two weeks later Clarissa hugged her dearest friends in turn, paying careful attention not to crush her wedding dress. “It’s been so long since we were all together. The three musketeers—Blair Delayney, Briony Green and Clarissa Cartwright. I miss college sometimes. We could just flop on each other’s bed and chat nonstop.”

“Of course we’re here! We wouldn’t miss this for anything! If you remember, this—” Blair waved a hand around the bride’s room at the church “—is what we chatted about.” She dabbed at her tears. “You’ve waited a long time, honey, and Wade is a wonderful man. I know you’ll both be very happy.”

“You will be happy, Prissy. I can feel it right here.” Briony tapped her chest, giggling as Clarissa rolled her eyes at her indignation of that old nickname. “I only get that feeling at special times and this is one of them.”

“I think you get that feeling when you eat as much pepperoni as you did last night. Try some antacids.” Blair winked at Clarissa, reminding her of the impromptu shower the two college friends had held in her bedroom.

They’d given her frilly nighties made of the silkiest fabric. She’d never had anything so lovely. She hadn’t wanted to tell them she was getting married because of Wade’s kids. Neither had he. In fact, they hadn’t told anyone the truth, not even the kids.

“It’s a private matter between us,” Wade had insisted. “Let them think whatever they want. I want the kids to believe we’re going to be a normal family, that their world is as secure as every other kid’s in this town.”

She’d agreed because it made things so much easier. The problem was, even on her wedding day, Clarissa still wasn’t sure what “normal” was in their case. He’d said she was pretty a lot of times. And lately his arm had taken a liking to her waist, especially if she left her hair down.

It made her breath catch when his fingers trickled through the strands and he compared it to silver in that muted growly voice. She’d learned a little about his family, too. His mother had been a silversmith. At least, she wanted to be, until her husband deserted her and she had to waitress to make ends meet.

Clarissa pushed the reminders of romantic dreams away as she felt heat rise in her face. If he hadn’t said it, lately Wade’s kisses had shown he found her attractive. But what did that mean?

This was still a marriage for the children’s sake. No matter how much she wanted to pretend, Clarissa knew that romantic love had very little to do with it.

Mrs. McLeigh poked her head around the door, her round face beaming. “Come along now, dearie. The music’s just starting. You follow your friends down the aisle, and then Bertie Manslow is going to sing something or other. I forget the name of it. Then the reverend will get busy and marry you two lovebirds. All right?”

Clarissa felt a surge of panic and held out a hand. “No! Wait.”

“Prissy? Honey, is anything wrong?” Briony’s soft fingers covered hers.

Clarissa dredged up a smile as nerves twitched her stomach around like a little boat on gigantic waves. “No, I just need a moment to compose myself. You know, pinch myself to make sure it’s real. Can I do that?” she asked Mrs. McLeigh, who’d designated herself wedding coordinator and organized the entire community into sponsoring what seemed to be the wedding of the year.

“Oh, of course you can, you sweetheart! Out you go now, ladies. Into the powder room. Let’s give the bride a few moments. It won’t hurt her groom to cool his heels.”

Blair stayed where she was frowning, but Clarissa patted her hand reassuringly. “I just want to pray a minute,” she told her, smiling away her fears. “I’m fine.”

Blair’s face cleared. “I’ll pray too,” she whispered back. “But I think God’s already done His best work putting you two together.”

“Thanks.” But as she sat alone in that room, listening to the organ music, Clarissa closed her eyes and prayed desperately for reassurance. Was this the right thing to do? Was she making an awful mistake? She’d tried so hard to build bridges between herself and Wade, even asked his uncle to be part of the ceremony.

“Ah, there you are.” Carston Featherhawk slipped inside the room after one quick knock, his mouth slashed wide in a grin. “Time to walk the beautiful bride down the aisle. Wade’s a lucky man to have you take him on. ‘Specially with all his trouble. I just hope he’s learned his lesson. Not like last time.”

“Last time?” A niggle of fear grew by leaps and bounds. Clarissa stuffed it down. “What do you mean?”

“Never talks about himself much, does he?” Carston nodded. “Can’t say as I blame him. Had a pretty tough life with his dad leaving like that. Like to killed my sister to find out he’d just dumped her and the kids and walked away. But she stuck to it, got herself a job and devoted herself to Kendra and Wade. Wasn’t her fault her man couldn’t handle his duty to the family. Ran away, he did. Just when Mary, my sister, needed him most.”

His mouth tightened, his eyes grew cold. “She killed herself caring for that boy, and what did he do? Just like his dad. Up and left her to face the music on her own when she got sick.” Carston stopped, then frowned as if he’d only just realized to whom he was speaking.

“It’s all right. We’re going to be married. I should know this, I think.” Clarissa wasn’t sure that was altogether true, but it was too late to back out now. She wanted to know all about Wade, but she’d never been able to coax any of his past out of him. Was this why?

“I suppose, being as you two are about to be wed, you should know the worst.” Carston nodded, scratched his chin again and then plunged into the past. “Wade was always a wild one. Hated it when the other kids made fun of him, his clothes, his race, his drawing. Learned to fight young. He’d get a rebellious streak in him and nothing could stop him from fighting. Once he busted up a house and then ran away. Mary cried herself to sleep for days, aching for him to come home. When he did, he acted as if he’d never done a thing wrong. Don’t suppose he ever paid her back, either.”

“Wade ran away?” Clarissa wanted to get this clear.

“Sure, lots of times. Made it a habit, you might say. Always wanted his own way, did Wade, even if it cost somebody else. He’s the one who got Kendra killed, you know.” He tsk-tsked at her white face. “Oh, not directly, of course. But it was his fault, all the same. He’s to blame and that’s the truth.”

Clarissa’s heart dropped to her shoes. Wade had never spoken to her of Kendra except to say that she was his sister, the kids’ mother and that she was dead. Was this why? Because he felt guilty? But for what?

His uncle was saying Wade ran away from trouble. Was that what he would do at the first sign of problems in their marriage? Clarissa didn’t kid herself that there wouldn’t be any. All marriages had problems. Especially ones based on a lie, and she had lied when he’d asked her if she thought their friendship would carry them through.

She didn’t, because she was counting on building more than a friendship with Wade Featherhawk. That’s what she’d prayed for every night for the past two weeks.

“I’m just gonna get me a drink of water,” Carston muttered, licking his lips. “Then we’ll get this shindig on the road. I think you’ll be real good for Wade. He needs a strong dependable woman to keep him on course, make him face up to reality.”

After Carston left, Clarissa closed her eyes and groaned. Was that what she was? Some kind of a rudder! It was not what she wanted from her marriage.

Here I am, on what should be the happiest day of my life, and all I can think of are questions.

What if things got hard, very hard, and Wade ran away from his responsibility—her and the children? What would she do then?

“Pray,” Clarissa reminded herself, wishing Carston had delved into this before today.

What should she do now? The whole town had gotten into the spirit of their wedding, donating flowers, decorating the church, sponsoring a shower and a reception, even arranging for a short honeymoon at a nearby campground.

If she didn’t go through with it, she’d be a laughingstock. Again. Not only that, Wade’s business would suffer. She wouldn’t be able to tell them why she opted out, of course. How could she say she had doubts? They thought she was deliriously in love with him because that’s what she’d wanted them to think so they wouldn’t pity her! If she dumped him on their wedding day, the whole town would speculate and the awful rumors about him would surface once more. Could she do that to him? To the kids?

I’ve got to start this marriage with trust. I don’t know what happened back then, but I know Wade now. I’ve seen his love and devotion to those kids. And I know he’s committed to our marriage. He won’t let me down.

Clarissa gathered up her bouquet, straightened her dress and pushed her shoulders back in determination. She’d wished and prayed for a husband and a family. The answer had come. Now it was up to her to fulfill her part of the deal.

I won’t be a burden, she promised silently. Not like with Gran. I won’t ever make him feel that I can’t carry my own weight in this family. I’ll make him see he doesn’t need to feel responsible for me, to give up anything for me.

The door burst open and Carston stood on the threshold grinning. “Ready?”

Clarissa took a deep breath, whispered one more prayer for peace, then nodded. “I’m ready,” she murmured.

“Good! ‘Cause those kids are like to popping their buttons outside, waiting to parade down that aisle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many attendants in a wedding.” He folded her arm in his and led her into the vestibule, his voice soft with pride. “Wade’s a lucky fellow. Getting a second chance doesn’t happen for everyone.”

Clarissa ignored the shiver of worry his words ignited. She chose instead to concentrate on Tildy with Jared, then Lacey and Pierce, gliding down the aisle in the measured step Blair had shown them. Next came her closest friends, Briony and Blair, wearing their soft pink gowns.

Finally it was her turn. She glanced toward the front just once and caught sight of Wade, standing beside the pastor in a black suit that fitted him to a T. She saw his eyes widen in wonder at his first glance of her in her grandmother’s wedding dress. It was a Ginger Rogers style gown with layers and layers of sheer white silk falling away from the tiny pearl-studded bodice. It was the one thing Gran had left behind that Clarissa didn’t harbor the least bit of guilt in accepting.

Clarissa felt elegant, beautiful, desirable for the first time in her life. And it was all because of the very tall, very handsome groom who stood waiting for her with that crooked smile and that glittery look on his face. Was he as nervous as she?

Clarissa met Wade’s uncertain smile with one of her own, then nodded at Carston. “I’m ready,” she whispered and stepped out.

This was right. This was good.

This marriage would last. She just had to do her part.

“It was a nice wedding. They must think highly of you to have gone to so much work.” Wade tugged his bow tie off and tossed it into the back seat of her car. “I intended to change before we left, but somehow I never got time.”

She knew what he meant. All those last minute instructions for the kids had taken eons. But Bertie Manslow had insisted that the bride change into her going-away outfit and then toss the bouquet. Clarissa still wasn’t sure how it came about that Blair caught the huge sheaf of purple-blue spring iris. Could she have been thinking about her own cancelled wedding and about the fatherless little boy who waited at home for her?

“That’s quite an outfit, by the way. It’s very…” he thought for a moment. “Elegant,” he finally said.

“It is a little overdone, isn’t it?” Clarissa fingered the red shantung jacket with its neckline of frills. “But since it was a gift and I’ll only ever wear it this once, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.” Wade drove on, obviously unsure of how to continue the conversation. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much of the mountains of food they laid out.”

“I was too busy talking to everyone, I guess. It was kind of them to arrange it all.” Clarissa sighed, slipping her feet out of the stiletto heels that pinched, to rub them in the soft carpet.

“I can’t understand why anyone would ever want to go through that again.” Wade shook his head in disgust, his voice telling her he certainly hadn’t enjoyed it.

Clarissa felt the prick of tears and ordered herself to be sensible. “I’m sorry you didn’t like our wedding,” she said in a small voice.

“No! I didn’t mean…aw, shucks! I’ve spoiled it again, haven’t I.” He huffed out a sigh that told her reams about his state of mind, and in particular, his opinion of this wedding. “I can’t seem to say anything right today. I just meant that it was so busy. All those people, all those gifts to open! It seemed, well, overdone. Too busy. More like a public spectacle.”

“I’m so sorry. If you wanted a more private wedding, you should have said so. They’ve waited a long time to see me married. I guess they wanted to do it right. Especially after Harrison.” She was about to explain more about Harrison, but Wade cut her off.

“I do not want to hear another word about your first fiancé. I got an earful of him already.” His voice didn’t encourage her to continue. Neither did his face. It might have been chiseled from granite.

Her heart sank. Here they were, only hours married, and already they were arguing. She swallowed hard. Don’t be a burden on him, don’t weigh him down with your problems or he’ll hate you for it.

“I’m sorry, Clarissa.” The gruff apology barely carried over the boisterous voice of the radio deejay.

Without asking, Clarissa reached over and shut off the annoying sound. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, surreptitiously brushing away a tear.

She turned her head and stared out the window, wondering how and when this day would end. Her nerves were stretched so tight, she wanted to scream, but grabbed a handful of red shantung instead. “It really doesn’t matter.”

With a muttered epithet, Wade pulled over to the side, out of traffic, and brought the car to an abrupt halt.

“Yes, it does matter.” He shut off the engine, then reached out a hand to press her shoulder so she would turn around. “The only way we’re going to make it through this is to be truthful with each other. We can’t hide our feelings. Agreed?”

She nodded, but kept her eyes downcast.

“I liked the wedding. I especially liked your dress. You looked beautiful.” His right hand brushed across her hair, fingers rubbing it between them as if it were a fine silk.

She heard the funny catch in his voice and wondered why it was there. “It was my grandmother’s wedding dress. She always said she’d wanted my mother to wear it, but my parents eloped. I don’t think she would have minded.” Her own voice came out in a breathy whisper, but Clarissa ignored that because her heart had just speeded up to double time.

The fingers on his left hand closed over hers in a squeeze, then opened and threaded through hers so their hands were interlocked. She could feel his plain gold wedding band pressing against her knuckle and automatically rubbed at her own.

“It was gorgeous…you were gorgeous.” A tiny laugh came from low in his throat. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been married before.”

“Neither have I.” She risked a glance up at him, and found him gazing down at her with a quizzical stare. “It was pretty rushed, wasn’t it?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes burning into her with a steady flare glowing in their depths. “No. Actually it was perfect. All of it. You did a wonderful job.”

There was something in his voice, something she didn’t understand. But she couldn’t look away from him.

“Actually, I didn’t do any of it,” she babbled in a rush. “It was mostly Mrs. McLeigh….” Her voice died away, the words stuck in her throat. Nothing would come out when he kept looking at her like that.

“Clarissa?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Clarissa blinked. How did she answer that? “Oh.”

“Do you mind?” His mouth moved nearer, his lips very close to hers, his breath, sweetly scented with the chocolate from their wedding cake mixing with the tang of the punch they’d toasted each other with.

Clarissa took a deep breath. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t mind.” She held her breath and closed her eyes as his mouth came down and grazed across hers. “Not at all.”

“Good.” There was the sound of laughter in his voice. “Then would you please kiss me back?”

She looked up at that, her eyes widening as she saw the caring in his face. He wanted this day to be special for her! That knowledge eased her fears and she slid her hands around his neck, nodding as she did.

“I’ll try. Though I’m not very good at kissing.” Yet, she amended silently. “But I can learn.”

Then Clarissa kissed him with all the pent-up emotion she’d kept so carefully in check during the many times their lips had met during the reception. This time there were no observers, and she tried to put her feelings for him into actions rather than words. If she was a little confused about exactly what those feelings were, well, he didn’t need to know that.

When the kiss ended, Wade’s hands dropped away from her with obvious regret.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, aghast at her own nerve in kissing this man.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Something is definitely wrong with my brain.”

“P-pardon?” She straightened her jacket and pushed her hair back, conscious of the fact that he’d loosened the entire mass so badly that she couldn’t possibly get it back in order without a mirror and her brush.

“I must be nuts to be sitting here on the side of the road, kissing you with the whole world watching us.”

He jerked a hand toward the window and only then did Clarissa see the interested spectators craning their necks for a better look. Wade rolled his eyes, shook his head and then grinned at her ruefully.

“Shall we, Mrs. Featherhawk?” he asked, almost playfully.

“We shall.” She joined in without a second thought. “Drive on, Mr. Featherhawk.”

After that it was simple to stop for dinner at a small wayside restaurant, to find the campground where a cabin had been rented in their name, to drive through the overhanging boughs of spruce and cedar to a small log building nestled between two massive pines.

“It’s really lovely, isn’t it?” Clarissa stood on the porch and looked around at the beauty of God’s world shown to best advantage in the clear moonlight and a few strategically placed lights. “How kind of them to do this for us.”

She gasped when his hands caught her up against his chest, barely managing to stifle the shriek that would have alerted the other campers, wherever they were, to their presence.

“What are you doing?” she whispered loudly as he struggled to reach the doorknob. She leaned down and unlatched it with her free hand. The other one refused to move from its anchoring position against his neck.

“Carrying you over the threshold. Isn’t that what you were waiting for?”

“No!” Clarissa gasped as he lowered her to her feet, her face burning with color. “I never even thought of such a thing.”

“Well, I want to keep up with tradition,” he mumbled, his face darkening. “Isn’t that what all the hoopla was about earlier?” Then he turned and went back out the door.

Clarissa blinked and tried to pretend that she didn’t wonder if he was coming back. But her sigh of relief when he staggered in the door with their cases gave her away, if he’d been paying attention.

Which he wasn’t. In fact, as he closed the door on the cabin and surveyed the rustic interior, Wade tried to convince himself that he hadn’t noticed anything about his new wife at all. That project was not a success.

The gold band on her finger gleamed as if she’d spent the ride here polishing it. Her hair, loose and flowing down her back, just begged to be brushed until it once more resembled the sheet of burnished silver-gold that he’d glimpsed so many mornings. And that suit of hers—that blazing red drew attention like a fire engine.

Wade didn’t like what he was feeling. None of it. He wasn’t a family kind of guy. Deep down the stark truth was that Wade didn’t believe in families. He sure as shootin’ didn’t believe in his ability to manage one. He’d only done it out of necessity.

Maybe he should have told her that? Yeah, right. Before or after he kissed her?

“Is anything wrong, Wade?” Clarissa studied him with a tiny frown that pleated the porcelain skin between her elegant brows. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Yes. Uh…” Wade shook his head in disgust, trying to come up with a way to tell her. “That is, maybe you’d better sit down, Clarissa. There’s something we need to discuss.”

“All right.” Her voice was quiet, almost frightened. As if she expected the worst and needed to steel herself for it. She sat down across from him in the overstuffed recliner that almost swallowed her delicate body whole. Her hands settled primly in her lap, her chin tilted upward to receive the blow. “Go ahead.”

“It’s not anything bad,” he muttered, mentally kicking himself for spoiling the ambience. She deserved better. He forged on. “It’s just that I wanted us to understand one another right off.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know. I am quite aware that this is what is called a marriage of convenience. And I’m quite willing to take the sofa.” She forced a timid smile to her lips, obviously striving to pretend that the little quaver in her voice wasn’t there.

“It’s not just that.” He flopped onto that sofa, squeezed his eyes closed and desperately searched for the right words. They weren’t there. “I’m not a family man, Clarissa. I’m too selfish, I guess. I spent a lot of time watching my parents’ marriage fail, and while it did I was responsible for my sister. I didn’t want her to see the ugliness when they were fighting, to hear the awful words.”

Clarissa nodded as she listened. “That’s perfectly natural,” she murmured, her head tilted to one side. “As a big brother, you must have been a wonderful friend.”

He shook his head. “Not really. I made her play the games I wanted to. She had to fall in with my wishes, because I was in charge. But that’s not it.” He chewed his lip in frustration. Why was this so hard to say? Wade thought for a moment, then started again.

“I hated the responsibility of it, you see. I wanted them to look after her, to make sure she was okay. There were so many things I wanted to do and she got in the way.” He shook his head. “I messed up so many times. Once I made her eat some berries and she was sick for a week.” One hand raked through his hair as he remembered her thin body shaking with the fever. “Anyway, my dad left. Uncle Carston probably told you that?”

She nodded.

“It was pretty rough then. I was the man of the house, but I did a lousy job of looking after my mom and Kendra. I couldn’t wait to dump them onto somebody else so I could go after my own dreams.” He stopped abruptly when he realized where this was going. No way was he digging into that now. He straightened his shoulders, drew in another breath and continued.

“Let’s just say it wasn’t any paradise. After Kendra got married, I finally felt free. I made up my mind then and there that I would never be tied down to anyone again. I never wanted the responsibility of someone else’s happiness.” He tried to read her. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, of course.” Clarissa nodded, her eyes clear and calm. “You don’t want to be accountable for my problems. You took the children on because you promised your sister, and you’ve done the best you could with them because you figured it was your duty. But it’s not the life you would have chosen for yourself. Close enough?”

She didn’t get it, not all of it anyway. But she was pretty close. Wade nodded slowly, rephrasing his thoughts. “Well, yes, but…”

She held up a hand. “Oh, I’m not finished yet. I’m not stupid, you know. I understand exactly what you’re saying, Wade Featherhawk. You think I’ll add to your responsibilities, that I’ll be even more of a burden on you. And you’re scared stiff. Is that about right?”

Wade gulped. Meek and mild little Clarissa Cartwright, no Featherhawk, had a lot more on the ball than he’d given her credit for. Now she’d made him feel like a jerk, which he probably was, for wanting to live his life without thinking about anyone else.

“Not scared, no.” He couldn’t let that go. “It’s just an awful lot for me to handle at one time, Clarissa. Four kids! Nobody has four kids in this two-point-five-family world. If they do, they get them one at a time!” He groaned at the selfish words that poured out of his own mouth.

I sound like a wimp. Wade shoved his head into his hands and dragged at the roots, trying to realign his topsy-turvy world.

“I love them, Clarissa. I do! But it’s hard to go from being independent to being a father of four, and then a husband. It’s gonna take me some time to adjust, that’s all I’m saying.” That sounded better, didn’t it? As if he just had a few issues to work through and then life would be rosy.

If it wasn’t the way he felt, she didn’t need to know that. After all, Clarissa was taking them all on and she wasn’t even related! She was going to have to adjust far more than he.

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t get too upset if I’m not very good at this. I’ll probably need a lot of practice before I come anywhere near being the kind of husband you deserve.”

She laughed at him! Wade could hardly believe that light, tinkling sound that shattered the tension in the room like a high note splintering a crystal goblet. He stared, frowning at the smile curling her lips.

“It goes both ways, Wade. I’ve never been a mother or a wife and now I’ve got to get used to all of you at once. At least you had months to train.” She got up and walked over to sit beside him. Her hand patted his. “I promise I won’t expect too much of you,” she said quietly. “We’ll learn as we go along. But please, don’t feel you have to be responsible for me. I’m an adult. I can look after myself. I can look after you and the kids too, if you’ll let me.”

Relief, pure, unadulterated relief washed over him. He didn’t have to be some kind of Superman or Romeo for her. She knew and understood. God had worked a miracle in this woman.

Wade leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered with heartfelt emotion. “Thanks for understanding.”

She nodded, then got up and moved toward the other rooms. “Let’s have a look around, shall we? Then I wouldn’t mind going for a walk. I need to breathe fresh air.”

Wade managed to maintain her light-hearted approach to life for the rest of the evening. He made fishing jokes, teased her about leeches in the lake, insisted she take the bedroom and he the couch.

But late that night as he lay staring through the patio doors at the big moon outside, he wondered if he should have told her all of it. Maybe he should have made sure she knew that he would never love her.

Maybe Clarissa should know he couldn’t afford to love anyone. Not anymore. Everyone he loved died because he was too selfish to care for them when they needed him. Their pain was always his fault. It was also his secret.

Chapter Five

On her very first morning of being Mrs. Clarissa Featherhawk, the bride decided to set the tone of her marriage as she meant to carry it on.

She wanted to know Wade better, certainly. She craved the personal details that all couples learned after months of courtship. But she didn’t have that basis of information to rely on because Wade seemed to think he had to protect himself. Or perhaps he wanted to protect her. She wasn’t sure. Her only hope lay in calming his fears, showing him that she intended to be an equal partner, that she had no intention of dragging him down.

Which was why, tired as she was from the busy day before, she managed to drag herself out of bed as the first threads of sunlight drifted across the sky. By the time she noticed Wade stirring from his uncomfortable position on the sofa, Clarissa had cinnamon buns ready to emerge from the oven and coffee, freshly brewed in a big mug on the table beside his makeshift bed.

“It can’t be morning yet,” he grumbled, his tousled head emerging just above the back of the sofa. “I’ve only had my eyes closed for ten minutes.”

“Rough night?” she murmured, turning away to hide a smile when she saw him force his eyes apart. “There’s a cup of coffee by your elbow. Maybe that will help.”

“Maybe,” Wade muttered doubtfully, but he downed a mouthful just the same. “What are you doing?”

She turned to find him frowning at her, one eyebrow quirked upward in a question. Her cheeks grew warm under his steady regard.

“I was just making some buns, before the day got too warm. This year has been a strange one, hasn’t it? You never know if you’re going to fry or freeze.” He was still staring at her. “Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea to do this before the cabin heated up too much. I’ve got our dinner started in that Crock-Pot.”

“Dinner?” He blinked twice, took a gulp of coffee, then winced as it burned down his throat. “I didn’t realize you were so industrious.”

Clarissa wanted to pinch herself. How stupid of her! Of course. He wanted to sleep in and she’d disturbed him.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, transferring one of the buns to a small plate. She kept her eyes averted. “I’ll just pour myself some coffee and go outside. I didn’t mean to disturb your rest. Go back to sleep if you want. I’ll sit in the sun and read.”

He muttered something in that low husky rumble of his, but Clarissa didn’t hang around and listen to what it was. She scurried out the door like a frightened mouse and carried her breakfast to the edge of the lake where earlier that morning she’d set out two of the chairs from the veranda.

“So much for romantic dreams,” she scolded herself. “Just get on with your life and quit expecting it to change. It’s a marriage of convenience, girl. Not a love match.”

She’d known that, of course. But still the foolish dreams had filled her mind last night. Those teasing “maybe” dreams. Maybe one day, maybe if they got to know each other, maybe somehow she could be a real wife, a real mother.

The sun rose slowly, its warmth spreading like fingers across the tree strewn landscape, rippling over the lake on butterfly wings. Birds drenched the air with their song. The put-put of a motorboat echoed the presence of a fisherman out early to cast a line.

Clarissa closed her eyes, tipping her head up to let the sunshine chase away the doubts. “Lord, I thank You for this wonderful creation. And for Wade. I know Your hand was in this marriage. ‘All things work together for good.’” She stopped a moment to wonder what life would be like in another five years. The murmuring sounds of other campers drew her back to the present, and she hurried on with her prayer.

“I want to do my part, to be all that You want me to be. But I don’t know what to expect, what Wade expects. Please give me patience and strength to wait on You.” She opened her eyes, her attention riveted on the man who’d just stepped outside their cabin door. She’d have to hurry.

“And God, if You could make him care about me, just a little bit, it would make this marriage so much easier.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, God. Amen.”

Wade flopped down in the chair beside hers, his bare arm brushing against her hand where it held her coffee mug out of harm’s way. “This place is like an isolated piece of solitude in a messed-up world,” he told her, his eyes on the trees sparkling in the bright sunlight, their reflection shimmering in the smooth lake water. “In a way, I guess it reminds me of the reservation, though there wasn’t much solitude there. In fact, when I lived there, I felt as if nobody else knew I existed.”

Clarissa saw through the undertones to the pain he tried to mask. “Abandoned, you mean?” she murmured softly, keeping her gaze on the water. “I know what that’s like. When my parents died and I went to Gran’s, it was as if the life I’d known died. Gran was wonderful, of course,” she rushed to assure him. “But she was older, and she’d just lost her only child. I didn’t want to impose.”

She could feel Wade’s eyes on her. “It must have been tough.”

Clarissa nodded. “It was. Maybe that’s why I can empathize with your kids. In one split second, everything you’ve ever known is changed and you can’t ever go back.” She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, then plunged in to something she had no business questioning. If she was going to learn more about Wade, this was the time.

“You must have felt that way when Kendra died and you had to take over for her. Your plans, dreams, hopes for the future. They all had to be put on hold, didn’t they?” She hoped he’d tell her what those hopes and dreams were. She hadn’t expected his mocking chuckle.

“Snooping, Clarissa?” He caught her chin and forced her to meet his glinting stare.

Clarissa knew he could see the round spots of embarrassed color that burned in her cheeks but she didn’t back down.

“Yes, maybe just a little. I’m hoping I can learn to understand you and the kids a little better, get to know what your lives were like then.” She refused to look away. “Is that wrong?”

He stared at her for a long time before his hand fell away from her jaw and he sighed, a deep huff that told her he would give just so far and no further.

“No, it isn’t wrong. It’s normal, I suppose. What do you want to know?”

Clarissa groaned inwardly. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to open up of his own accord, to share a piece of himself because he could trust her. Maybe it was too early for that.

Please help me, Lord.

“I want to know anything you want to tell me,” she murmured, wishing she could smooth away the lines of tension around his eyes. “What were you like as a little boy?”

Clarissa settled back in the chair and drew her knees up to her chest, smoothing her skirt over her legs to hide from the prickles the sun was already making against her skin. Thank goodness she’d thought to tug on the old straw hat she’d found. That along with her long-sleeved shirt should give some protection. She didn’t want to go home looking like a boiled lobster!

She turned to nod at Wade. “I’m listening.”

He shook his head wryly. “Don’t give up easily, do you?” His eyes darkened, then glassed over as if he’d gone far away, to a place where she couldn’t go. “What was I like? I was a brat, Clarissa. Disobedient, willful, argumentative. All the things you were probably instructed not to do—” he raised one eyebrow, then continued when she nodded her understanding “—I did them. All of them. There wasn’t a younger kid I didn’t terrorize, a teacher I didn’t sass back, a rule I didn’t break.”

“Problem child,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. But he heard it and nodded, his face drawn.

“Worse.” He summed it up succinctly. “I’m sure you can’t possibly understand.”

Her lips smiled, but inside her heart ached. “Can’t I?” She remembered the times she’d cried herself to sleep, begging God to bring her parents back so they could be a family again, promising anything if He’d just stop punishing her.

Wade frowned as he watched her, his eyes inquisitive. “You couldn’t. You’ve had the perfect life.”

“Have I?” She pleated the fabric between her fingers, noting the glossy pink polish that Bri had applied just yesterday morning was now chipped. Sort of like her dream of blissful married life. Clarissa decided it was too ironic to dwell on. “Don’t get sidetracked so easily by what you see, Wade. Truth is sometimes hard to find.”

He inclined his head. “I guess. Anyway, it got worse when the fighting got worse. My parents couldn’t agree on what side to butter the bread. They sure couldn’t compromise on raising Kendra and me. Dad got fed up and pretty soon I figured out that if you were out of sight, you were out of mind. I made it a point to be out of his sight as much as possible.”

The wealth of understatement in those words drew tears to Clarissa’s eyes. She wanted to say so many things, to comfort Wade, tell him she understood. But more than anything, she wanted him to continue talking. She made herself be satisfied with touching his arm as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t turn her way, but his head jerked in acknowledgment.

“My mother, bless her, never gave up on me even though I disappointed her so many times. She wanted me to have all the things she’d missed and to her, that meant living on the reservation, learning about my heritage.” He grimaced. “All I could see was that being an Indian and loving a white man had made her life a misery. She didn’t fit into his world, and he sure didn’t fit into hers. I fit into neither. I was determined to get as far away from there as I could, to find something better.”

“So that’s when you ran away?” Clarissa laid her head on the back of her chair, her fingers light on the bunch of muscles that clenched and unclenched as he spoke.

“Yes, I ran away, but I thought I was running to something. I just couldn’t figure out how to find it. When I was seventeen, I finally ran far enough that I ran into someone who showed me there was more to life, if I was willing to take it. His name was Ralph Peterson and he was an artist, a good one. He picked me up when I was hitchhiking, took me in and kind of adopted me for the two weeks I was gone. He showed me the places he’d sketched, real and dreams, places he could draw on a piece of paper. Places so wonderful they took your mind off your problems. He had a house full of pictures—buildings and places around the world. I was hooked on those cathedrals, castles, temples.”

“So you decided to become an artist?”

“Not really. I just got more and more curious about the process of how you got a building from a picture. When the police brought me home, I spent every spare moment I could find at the library. I read about Frank Lloyd Wright, I studied the styles and I started to sketch.” He made a face. “You can imagine how that went over—a macho male sitting around drawing! I got into a few fights over it.”

“I’d like to see your drawings sometime,” she whispered, aching for the almost-man who’d searched so hard to find himself. “You have a real talent with building things, so I’m sure that’s where it came from.”

“Thank you.” He paused a moment as if reflecting, then his face hardened. “I was awful to Kendra. I was so focused on what I wanted, what I had to have, that I couldn’t see that she was upset by the parents, too. She needed someone to talk to, but I wasn’t there for her.”

“Wade, your parents had that responsibility. Not you. You were a child. You should have had the freedom to dream.”

He shook his head, his mouth tightening into a bitter line. “She was my sister and I was so selfish I wouldn’t even let her use my stuff.” He puffed out a scornful half laugh. “I’d decided, you see, that I was going to make myself into somebody the world had to notice, that people were going to sit up and pay attention to Wade Featherhawk. I was too good for the reservation, too smart for my mother’s plans and too old to bother with Kendra. As soon as I could, I took off and got a job, construction. I learned as I went how to do a good job. Kendra and Mom seemed okay then and I’d work away summers. Then Mom died.”

Clarissa nodded. She knew this part. “And you had Kendra.”

“Yeah, I had Kendra. There wasn’t anybody else. My dad had disappeared and the folks who wanted her were bad news. It was up to me, and I hated being the one dumped on.” He swallowed, his voice choked but insistent. “You had to know Kendra to understand how loving she was. It tears at me even now when the kids look at me in a special way and I see her. She didn’t care if I was rich or famous or not. She loved me. All the time. No matter what.”

“I guess that’s what sisters do.” Clarissa let the silence stretch between them as he remembered his sister’s joy.

“She was such a happy kid. Always chattering a mile a minute. I loved her so much. But I didn’t dare take her with me to the sites. We lived in bunkhouses a lot of the time. She was young and gorgeous, and the men I worked with weren’t the type for her to be around.”

Clarissa could tell from the hard chiseled lines his face had fallen into just what kind of men he’d worked with and was fiercely proud of the way he’d protected his sister.

“I tried to take care of her as best I could, but I had to leave and find work whenever we ran out of money. She’d stay with some friends.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She’d throw her arms around me when I got back and hug so hard my ribs ached.”

“She loved you.” Clarissa felt the sting of tears for that young girl burn in her chest.

Wade looked up. “Actually, you remind me of her sometimes. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, either. She was soft but so stubborn.” His eyes glinted reproof.

Clarissa grinned. “You have to stand up for something or you’ll fall for anything,” she teased.

He nodded slowly. “She should have stood up to me,” he muttered.

Clarissa wanted to ask why but he began speaking again.

“The building industry went into a slump right after I finished high school, and I couldn’t find work. I didn’t know what to do. I only had sixty-five dollars when I came home. I was scared stiff to tell her I’d have to leave again so soon. And I was fed up with grubbing along, just barely managing.” His fingers fisted until the knuckles grew white.

As Clarissa watched, he slowly straightened each finger, his jaw hard with the discipline of stifling his frustration. “She was so young and so innocent, I couldn’t imagine her leaving the reservation, getting a job. Then I had a better idea. Why didn’t she marry Roy? He’d been chasing her for years, she’d be eighteen in a couple of weeks. Everything would be wonderful.” He smiled but there was no joy in his face. “Or that’s what I thought.”

“It wasn’t?” Clarissa couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and feathering a hand through his hair, brushing it back, her fingers soothing against his scalp. “It sounds reasonable.”

Wade shook his head, leaning back so her hand fell away. It’s as if he can’t bear to accept kindness, she decided. As if he has to lash himself over and over with his faults.

“It was grasping at straws and I latched on to that one for all I was worth, eager to get rid of my burden. That’s what I thought of her. My own sister was a burden I had to get rid of.”

The recrimination and self-loathing she saw in his eyes tugged at Clarissa’s soft heart.

“I could hardly wait to be free of my own sister. Isn’t that sick? I had all these dreams of what I was going to do if I could just be on my own. I’d begun to earn my high school credits. I knew the college I wanted. Big man on campus, that’s who I wanted to be!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Wade. You were just trying to plan ahead.”

“Yeah. That’s what I told myself, too. I had to dump her on the first guy she liked for her own best interests. Because I couldn’t be bothered hanging around that reservation. I had to be free to find my dreams.”

There was nothing she could say. Nothing that would obliterate the sorrow he carried inside. All she could do was help him understand that God still loved him, as He loved them all in spite of their shortcomings. She whispered a prayer for guidance, then concentrated on Wade’s next words.

“I should have checked him out more, come home more often, paid attention to her letters. When she finally got hold of me in California, her life was a mess. Her marriage was on the rocks and her husband was dumping her and the kids, just like good old Dad.” He shoved his head into his hands, his fingers tugging on the glossy strands of black.

“But did I get her out of there, even then? No! All I could see were my selfish plans going down the tubes, my life getting put on hold, my dreams unfulfilled.” He kept his head bowed, his face averted. “I hurried home to talk her into trying to make it work, just a little longer. Just until I got what I wanted. That way, I could avoid my responsibility to take care of my sister. It was the one thing my mother made me promise I’d do and I failed her. Again.”

Wade’s face was carved into hard lines when he finally shifted in his chair, his bitter gaze pinning Clarissa where she sat.

“Kendra died in that car accident because I sent her there. She didn’t want to go with Roy, he’d been drinking. But I persuaded her that she could make it work if she just persisted. It’s my fault those kids have no father or mother.” His eyes shone like polished iron, his mouth tight.

“So you tell me, Clarissa. Am I the kind of person you want to be married to, the kind of man you want making decisions about your future?”

He lunged to his feet, his eyes blazing. “Don’t bother to answer. I know you only wanted to help the kids. So do I. You probably think they’d be better off without me messing up time and time again. You probably wish I’d take off for good and leave them in your capable hands.”

His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned away.

“And I would. God knows I’d leave in a minute if I could. But I promised her I’d raise them. It’s the last promise I ever made to her and I can’t break it. I just can’t.”

Clarissa sat stunned and immobilized by the heartrending grief that shredded his voice. She wanted to reach out, to assure him that he was doing the right thing.

But was he? Were they?

She watched him walk around the lake, a lonely solitary figure lost in a brooding silence that clearly stated Keep out. When he disappeared into a stand of towering blue spruce, Clarissa let the tears roll down her cheeks.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “what have I done? How can I help this hurting family?”

Though she sat there for an hour, the answer evaded her. Eventually she got up, picked up her and Wade’s empty mugs and returned to the cabin. She cleaned it, made some sandwiches for lunch and set a fresh jug of iced tea in the fridge. But Wade did not return.

As she lay at the side of the lake later that afternoon, Clarissa forced away the thought that Wade had run away, left her behind. Not this time, she told herself. He’s committed this time. And I intend to see that he doesn’t feel chained down. I’ll go on with my life as usual and he’ll realize that I’ve accepted him for exactly who and what he is. He won’t have to fulfill my expectations because I won’t have any.

She pulled off her cover-up and stretched out on the towel, allowing the hot sun to touch her sun-screened skin.

“’They that wait upon the Lord,’” she reminded herself. “Your timing is best.”

“You’re going to burn if you stay out here much longer.” Wade’s soft voice broke through her dream, the words tentative. “Maybe you should cover up?”

“I think I’ll try the water first.” Clarissa sat up, surprised to see him clad in his swimsuit, a towel looped over one arm. “Are you going in?”

He nodded. “I love swimming. The colder the better. We used to have an old swimming hole….” His voice trailed away. “Never mind.”

Clarissa let it go. “Well, I’ll try,” she mumbled doubtfully, accepting his outstretched hand as she got to her feet. “But if it’s cold, I’m outta here.”

He tilted up one arrogant eyebrow. “I never thought I’d see the day when Clarissa Cartwright would back down from a challenge,” he teased.

“Featherhawk,” she reminded him. “And I’m not backing down. I’ll go in. And then I’ll get out.”

He rolled his eyes when she tentatively toe-touched the clear water lapping against the white of the beach. “Uh-huh. Chicken. That’s what I said.”

Clarissa could feel the tension in him, knew he was trying to lighten things between them. Very well. She would help him. She untied her beach jacket and tossed it to the sand, then dashed into the water.

“Last one in is the biggest chicken,” she bellowed, then gurgled as she stepped off a ledge and the icy water closed around her sun-heated body and filled her gasping mouth. “Oh!”

“You live on the edge, don’t you?” Wade’s big hand wrapped itself around her arm and tugged her toward shore. “You don’t have to prove to me that you’re brave, Clarissa. I’m the guy you married, the fellow whose four crazy kids you took on. Remember?”

“I remember.” She hugged herself tightly, arms wrapped around her middle to conserve what little warmth still pulsed through her body. “Since you already know how brave I am and that I’m not a chicken, c-c-can I get out n-now?”

Wade threw back his head as he roared with amusement at her chattering teeth and shaking lips. Gently he led her out of the water, wrapped her beach coat around her and wrapped his own towel around her dripping head.

“You don’t back down, do you, lady?” he said, admiration lacing his voice.

Clarissa gathered her stuff into her bag and headed toward the cabin, fully aware that Wade was right beside her. “Feel the fear and do it anyway,” she mumbled. “That’s my motto.”

They walked toward the cabin and up the steps. At the top, Wade reached out a hand and stopped her. His eyes held a quizzical look that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Sometimes fear is a good thing, Clarissa. It makes us stay away from situations where we can get badly hurt.” His dark eyes bored into hers.

She held his gaze. “And sometimes hurt teaches us things we wouldn’t have learned if we hadn’t stepped out in faith, believing that God is always in control. ‘If God is for us, who can be against us?’” she quoted softly.

His hand dropped away, his face a study in conflicting emotions.

“I’m going to change,” she told him finally.

He nodded, wet hair drooping into his eyes. He slicked it back, his eyes on her. “In that bag of tricks, have you hidden the ability to cut hair?”

She winked. “I can cut it.” She shrugged. “It might end up a little shorter than you like, but I can cut it.”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Trying.” He opened the door. “After you, Mrs. Featherhawk.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, Mr. Featherhawk.”

As beginnings went, it was a start. A good start.

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