Laurie Paige - The Housekeeper's Daughter p.03

Seven

Maya hurriedly looked through her notes. Yes, she had everything. Didn't she? She riffled through the papers again. Yes. She had to grin at her nervousness.

Today was the big test, the last of the semester. All her other classes had required a term paper, but not the one on early childhood assessment methods. The prof gave long, hard tests that took three hours.

Closing the folder, she stuck it in the tote bag with a packet of cheese crackers and a bottle of water. She hurried to the kitchen to tell her mom she was on her way. Drake was there.

She nodded to him only because her mother was present. "I'll be home by nine, I should think," she said. "The boys have their instructions and will study here in the kitchen before dinner. Each gets to choose one hour of television, Teddy first this time, then Joe has to read to you from one of the books on his desk for thirty minutes."

"I remember," Inez said, stirring a pot on the stove. "Then I read a chapter of Teddy's book to him. Joe gets to listen. Both go to bed at nine."

"Where are you going?" Drake asked, frowning.

Maya answered reluctantly. "San Francisco."

"She has an exam," Inez added, a worried light in her eyes as she looked Maya over. "I don't like your being out on the road alone for such a long time. There's a storm coming. What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen," Maya assured her mother.

"You could have a flat tire. The road could wash out. You know we have mud slides at this time of year. Spend the night in the city if we get rain."

"Well, we haven't had but one drizzle in a week. I'll be okay. Stop worrying," Maya scolded affectionately.

"Here's your lunch." Inez handed her a plastic bag. "In case something happens and you need to eat."

With a resigned smile, Maya tucked the bag into the tote, gave her mother a kiss and headed out. Drake rose and followed her. She was as aware of him at her heels as she would have been if he'd been a wolf bearing down on her.

At last she turned on him. "What?" she demanded.

"You going in that old car of yours?"

The question surprised her. "Yes."

"No way."

"I beg your pardon?" she said haughtily.

"I'll take you. Don't argue," he advised. "It won't do you any good."

"I don't need anyone to take me."

"Please."

The softly spoken word hung in the air between them. Perhaps if she hadn't looked into his eyes…but she did. She saw determination, but also worry, and the bleakness that never left him.

"You don't have to," she said, trying to reason with him and her stubborn heart, which pounded eagerly at the thought of hours alone with him.

"I know, but…I'd worry."

The simplicity of the statement undermined her resolve to have as little to do with him as possible.

She went with him, not without misgivings, to his well-maintained truck. Once they were on their way, she sighed and relaxed. "I have to admit, it's nice to be able to watch the scenery instead of the traffic."

His eyes flashed over her. "Yeah."

Heat worked its way through her as Drake guided the pickup onto the winding road over the mountains to Highway 101, which was faster going than via the coast road. Even so, the trip took the rest of the morning. They spoke rarely, but, with soft music on the CD player, the silence eased into a semi-comfortable companionship. It was after eleven when Drake joined the traffic pouring across the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco.

The sky was overcast, and a mist fell on the city, driven by a chill wind off the Pacific.

"Let's have lunch at one of the places along Fisherman's Wharf," he suggested.

"I'd rather go to the campus. I want to look over my notes once more," she said.

"Okay. You'll have to direct me."

He expertly followed her orders, and they arrived at the busy university buildings shortly after that. Parking was a problem, as usual, but they finally found a space.

Drake got out and fell into step with her as she headed for a quiet alcove on the first floor of the building where the exam was to be held.

"You'll have hours to kill," she told him. "It'll be four before the exam is over."

"I brought a book to read. Is there a cafeteria or someplace to get lunch?"

She rummaged in the tote and brought out the meal her mother had sent. "Mom sent food in case I was marooned on a deserted island for a week. You want to share?"

"Sure. I'll get drinks," he said, pointing to a machine with a variety of canned sodas in the lobby.

Maya watched him, his stride long and sure, as he bought drinks for them. The misery and excitement of being with him left her confused and wary. She'd been wrong to follow her heart last summer. She wouldn't be foolish again, she vowed, no matter how wonderful Drake could be at times.

He'd been super to Johnny and his younger brothers over the weekend, working with them for hours at the stables. Drake seemed to have a natural affinity for youngsters. He'd been endlessly patient and good-humored at Joe's and Teddy's demands for attention.

His help had given her a break, although she'd been careful to stay close and keep an eye on the boys so Ms. Meredith wouldn't worry or get upset.

Laying a hand on her abdomen, she found herself wondering, against her better judgment, how he would be as a father. Firm or indulgent? Loving or distant? Would he spoil Marissa when he came in for one of his quick visits, then ignore her the rest of the time?

If they married, would she turn into a nagging wife, hating it when he went off on one of his missions? What if, one day, he didn't return?

She worried about the dark part of his soul that drove him to court danger and challenge death. However, he wasn't a thrill-seeker or adrenaline junkie. Drake had a strong sense of right and wrong. He was an honorable person.

And therein was the problem. He would marry her and try to give her the life he thought she wanted. To make things right—that was his nature and why he'd chosen his life's work. It was also a part of why she loved him.

Longing for more than life seemed to offer seared her with needs she'd suppressed the past few months. Pride had refused to let her contact Drake when she'd realized she was expecting. She'd heard nothing from him after he left.

There's no place in my life for a wife and family.

The stark, written denial of their softly spoken words of love were burned forever into her heart. For a moment, she felt pity for that young, trusting girl who had given her love so freely. It had been a bitter awakening to read that note and know Drake had left—

"Here," Drake said again and handed Maya the soda can and a straw.

He wondered what thoughts had taken her away. Jealousy flamed in him. He wanted her in every way—her thoughts, her time, all her attention. He shook his head as knowledge, bitter and lonely, forced him to remember all the reasons he should leave her alone.

Except it was too late for that.

Looking at her rounded figure, yearning tore at him. He wasn't even sure what he longed for. A return of the raw passion they had shared last summer? Yes. A renewal of the trust in her eyes when she gazed at him? God, yes. Her love?

He'd never allowed himself to think of the softer side of life and the comfort of home and family. Those weren't in the cards for him. That was a fact he'd always known, long before he'd chosen a career or felt this passionate intensity toward Maya. He hadn't meant to hurt her….

But he had.

That was another fact he had to face up to. Years ago, when she'd been seventeen and just blossoming into womanhood, he'd noticed and been attracted. Sense had prevailed, and he'd fled the homestead.

Too bad he hadn't exercised the same caution last June. Now it was too late. He let his gaze wander over her, noting the way her hands trembled as she ate and read over the notes. She'd always hated tests.

It came to him that their lives had been and would always be entwined in many ways. Whether she agreed or not, he had to think of her and the baby. All his assets were now assigned to her—his insurance, saving account, trust fund—in case he didn't come back from a mission.

He ate a sandwich, carrot sticks and an apple with hardly a notice as worry gnawed at him. In his inner vision, he kept seeing a pair of big, brown eyes, like Maya's, only in a younger face, filled with trust. He wanted to explain about his work and his commitments to this new life, but his excuses seemed feeble and self-serving instead of noble as he'd once thought. Maybe there was room in a life for more than one thing….

Watching Maya, he saw her close her eyes. Her lips moved as she went over some bit of information she wanted to remember. "Give me your notes," he said. "I'll quiz you."

When she handed them over without a quibble, he realized just how worried she was. For the next ninety minutes, he asked questions, all of which she answered perfectly.

"You'll ace the exam," he told her.

"I hope."

He had to smile at her fatalistic tone. She'd always been a serious student, eager to learn. She'd been the same as a lover, eager to please and to explore the full realm of passion with him.

His body went hard with needs long denied but dreamed of nightly. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her soft, soft mouth. "Good luck," he murmured, knowing he had to let her go.

"Thanks."

He watched her gather her composure and the papers, then walk down the hall, joining other students entering the theater-style room. He got out a book on naval maneuvers in past wars and settled down to wait.

After a couple of chapters, he gave up on the book. His mind kept drifting to Maya and the baby and their future. Their daughter would grow up, marry, have children of her own. Would he be around to see it?

Outside, the storm came down in full force, bringing wind and heavy rain. The mountain road would be hazardous.

At three, he called Inez and found out it was raining hard there, too. He made a decision. "I think I'll see about rooms and spend the night in town," he told the housekeeper.

"That's good. I was worried about Maya being out on the road in this storm."

Guilt nibbled at him, but gently, while he made arrangements for two rooms with a hotel down on the bay. It wasn't as if he'd planned the storm or anything. Even her mother had been relieved to know Maya wouldn't be out in the weather. Yes, staying in town was definitely the best thing to do.

Beyond that, he didn't want to think.

* * *

Maya handed the test to the student aide at the door and walked out of the room, glad the ordeal was over.

"How'd it go?" Drake asked.

He was leaning against the wall, his hands tucked in his pockets, his stance casual.

"Fine," she said, looking away. "It's raining," she added, as if just noticing this fact.

"Yeah. I talked to Inez. The storm has closed in all along the coast. I, uh, told her we would stay in town for the night."

Maya hugged the tote bag to her chest. "Yes, it would probably be wise."

She knew that was a lie. She wanted it too much. Hours alone with him. The whole enchanted night.

He led the way to the car, pointing out puddles to be avoided, his manner brisk, almost impersonal. But his eyes…they spoke of intimacies once shared, of being in his arms, hidden from reality, just the two of them.

The hotel was near the tourist district with commanding views of the bay, Alcatraz Island and the Golden Gate Bridge, barely visible through the gray sheets of rain. Their rooms were across the hall from each other on the seventeenth floor.

"Is this okay?" Drake asked when they were alone.

She stood at the window and stared at the bay, then the street, crowded with office workers going home, far below. "Yes, it's fine."

He crossed the room and stood behind her. "What do you see that's so interesting?"

"Nothing. Just the street. It looks like a painting, all misty and soft gray, with the bay in the background."

"It'll be deserted soon. The street people and tourists are already gone for the day."

She inhaled deeply, taking his scent into her, feeling his warmth at her shoulder. She wished life was different.

Grow up, she advised. A sigh escaped her.

"Tired?"

His hands went to her shoulders, his fingers like magic on the tense muscles of her neck and upper back. She didn't object. She knew she should, but she didn't.

What did it matter now if he touched her?

That was foolish logic, but at the moment she didn't care. This was Drake, the boy she'd worshipped as a child, the man she'd come to love as only a woman can. Drake, with his sense of responsibility and need to atone for a crime he didn't commit. Drake, so kind to others, so harsh on himself.

She faced him, all her love on the surface. She couldn't hide it from him or herself.

He swallowed hard, then touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I've dreamed of you, of us, alone like this, all those months I was away."

His loneliness was a bleak destiny, a darkness in the golden depths of his eyes. Her heart went out to him.

"We could have been together."

"Sometimes it seems possible."

"But it isn't," she concluded.

"I don't know."

His admission spoke of longing he couldn't hide. The muscles in his jaw moved, and she sensed he was hanging on to his control, but only by a precarious thread. If she pushed ever so little…

"I think I'd like to rest for a while."

He dropped his hand and stepped back. "Of course. Do you want dinner in, or shall we go out?"

The hotel had a restaurant on the highest floor, one of her favorite places to dine. "I love it upstairs. It's like being on top of the world."

"All right. About seven?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

Their formality was somehow ironic, filled with nuances of hunger for other than food. Drake nodded and left.

Maya stood at the window for a few minutes, her eyes on the misty view, her mind oddly empty. It was as if she waited, as if she were expecting something, or someone.

A shudder rippled down her back, and she retreated from the cold seeping through the glass. Lying on the bed, she closed her eyes as weariness crept over her in gentle waves of drowsiness, one after another, until she slept.

* * *

The restaurant was surprisingly busy for a rainy Monday night, Maya noted when she and Drake were seated. A large group noisily occupied one side of the room. Fortunately their table was a quiet nook beside a window that overlooked the bay. Streetlights reflected off the wet pavement. Lights from the islands dotting the bay were vague halos in the inky blackness of the night.

"Did you sleep?" Drake asked.

"Yes, soundly. To my surprise."

He nodded. "You were tired. Tests always get you uptight. As if you weren't going to ace them."

She started to protest, but smiled and shrugged instead. "A basic insecurity, I suppose, about being tested and not meeting expectations."

"You've never come up short, as far as I know," he assured her.

His voice was smooth and melodious as usual, but the undertones were deeper, rife with meanings she couldn't decipher. Each time she looked up, his eyes were on her, moving restlessly from her mouth to her eyes and back.

Another couple passed them. The woman was dressed in a smart black pantsuit, her figure sleek and perfect. Maya glanced at her own outfit of navy slacks and the usual tentlike maternity top. She was anything but svelte.

"It's like an island up here," Drake said, switching his attention to the view from the window. "Like being alone in some strange, alien place suspended between the earth and the sky. The cars could be space ships light-years away."

"We're on a space station, circling the universe," she said, joining in the fantasy.

"Yes."

His voice was soft, filled with promises like a warm wind in winter, hinting at springtime.

Inside, she was filled with a sense of urgency, of life pushing at the seams of earth, ready to grow and blossom. After the long winter, she was ready for the fulfillment of promises not spoken, but there nonetheless.

Her composure wobbled. She was glad when their salads arrived and she had something to concentrate on besides him and the arcs of awareness that flowed like electricity between them. After a while, she wished the meal to be over as every moment became a separate, painful wish that it would last forever.

Nothing lasts forever, she told herself, but that didn't stop the wishing.

"You look so solemn. What are you thinking?" he asked, ignoring the steak platter the waiter had delivered.

She cut into the perfectly sautéed fish fillet and considered. "I'm thinking about having one more quarter of tests to go," she said lightly, forcing herself to smile.

"You'll have the baby by then."

The smile melted. "Yes."

"How will you manage?"

"Newborns sleep most of the time. I'll take Marissa to class with me the last month."

"Are you going to breast-feed?"

The oddest sensation speared through her breasts at the question. "I—I thought I would. I mean, it's so much better for the baby."

"Good," he said solemnly.

She made the mistake of looking in his eyes. The stark loneliness she saw there nearly made her weep. Resolutely, she continued eating until the moment passed. At last the meal was finished.

"I think I'd like to go to my room now," she said, refusing dessert.

"The check, please," he said at once.

She was silent while he charged the dinner to his room. In the elevator, on the way to their floor, she slumped against the wall, feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. She had only to say the word and Drake would step in, offering marriage and an easy way out of her worries about making it on her own with a baby.

Pride wouldn't let her consider this solution to her problems for more than a minute. She had made her bed and she would lie in it. Alone.

At her door, she quickly thanked him for the meal and rushed inside, locking the dead bolt behind her. She felt his presence on the other side before he opened the door directly across from hers and quietly closed it.

She breathed easier after that. Besides the standard white terry robe, a nightshirt was laid across the pillow. She also found a toiletries kit in the bathroom.

Knowing Drake had thought of the items for her, she brushed her teeth with the travel-size toothbrush, slipped into the nightshirt and got in bed. With the TV on an old movie, which should have put her to sleep, she lay awake, restless and tense.

Nine o'clock passed. Ten. Eleven.

Sitting up and turning on the lamp, she looked around the room for something to read. She flicked through a magazine extolling the attractions of San Francisco. She glanced at the window where the rain beat in a monotonous drone against the glass. A hotel room in a rain-drenched city was the loneliest place in all creation.

A knock came softly at the door.

"Maya?" Drake said.

She pulled on the robe and opened the door. "Yes?"

He came inside. "Is your back hurting?"

"Is rain wet?" she retorted with wry humor.

"Lie down. I'll rub it for you."

"Not a good idea, Drake."

He froze, his eyes seeking hers. She gazed at him in despair and longing, her resolve to go it alone weak at the moment.

"Maya," he murmured, his tone echoing the hunger that couldn't be denied in either of them. His hand closed into a fist. "I didn't plan this."

She shook her head helplessly. "It's madness…to want like this, to need someone who isn't there."

Drake reached for her, needing to erase the pain from her eyes. He saw more than she wanted him to see—the stubborn refusal to let herself need anyone, the courage to face life on her own terms, the tenacity to keep on…

Her courage humbled him, causing him to question his own convictions. He knew he shouldn't make promises. His life was too uncertain for that. Yet, there was the fact of her, her warmth, her goodness, her love.

"I can't give you what you need," he told her in a final attempt at honesty. "I am what I am."

Maya closed the one step that separated them, as drawn to him as a stray planet captured by the sun. "You are what I need," she said. "You just don't know it."

He frowned as if in pain. She slipped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. He hesitated, then his arms enclosed her. She sighed, elated and weary at the same time.

"Make love to me," she said.

"I want to. Desperately."

His brief laughter bitter with self-knowledge, Drake guided her toward the bed. Nothing could make him give up this moment, not even knowing he would face a firing squad when morning came, or worse, his conscience.

When she untied the belt, he removed the robe from her shoulders and tossed it to a chair. The nightshirt brushed the midpoint of her thighs and disguised her pregnancy so that she looked as she had last summer.

His heart beat fast as hunger and longing raged through him. She was the woman of his dreams, and he could no more deny the passion between them than he could willfully stop breathing. It was too much to ask of a man.

"Let me look at you," he requested.

When he gathered the nightshirt into his hands, she didn't protest. He lifted it carefully over her head and laid it aside.

Dropping to his knees, he pressed his cheek to her abdomen and marveled at this evidence of life, this miracle he had helped create.

"Lie down," he said.

Maya stacked the pillows against the headboard and leaned against them, unable to tear her gaze from the man who watched her as he undressed. His gaze seemed lambent in the lamplight, all the tenderness inherent in his nature gathered in those depths.

An arc of golden light flashed through her, leaving an afterglow of trembling anticipation. This was Drake, the man she had loved all her life. Whatever the cost—and it would be high—she would take this night.

When he joined her in bed, she surrendered doubt to the wanton ecstasy of his touch.

"You're beautiful," he murmured after kissing her mouth, then along her neck.

She smiled at the exaggeration, but said nothing.

He took her breasts into his hands. "You're different here, too. Not just bigger, but…"

Her nipples had changed from pale pink to a dusky rose shade. "Darker," she said. "That's natural, I read."

"There's more of a glow, too."

He touched her cheek and trailed a finger down her chest, leaving a molten path along her skin. He laid a hand on her tummy, leaving warmth there, too.

"Can we do this without hurting you?" he asked.

She blinked up at him, then smiled. "Yes. Right up until time—" She stopped as a blush slid into her face.

"I'll be gentle," he promised.

She closed her eyes as need and yearning flamed and grew and entwined. She ran her fingers into his hair and brought his face to hers.

The kiss was sweet at first, before it became desperate. She moved restlessly against him as the passion claimed her. His scent filled her. The masculine feel of him all along her side sent delicious spirals of need shooting off inside her.

"Drake," she whispered as desperation seized her.

His touch became familiar, intimate, arousing. She caressed him the same way, exploring his body as he explored hers, finding all the ways to drive him to passionate insanity. He did the same to her.

"What's this?" she asked, pausing at a raised furrow of flesh she didn't recall.

"Nothing," he murmured, his eyes passionately exciting as he caressed her breasts.

She pushed against his chest until he reluctantly turned and let her see. She gasped when she saw the pink of a new scar along his hip. "You were hurt."

He shrugged. All in a day's work, the gesture implied.

Tears filled her eyes. "On the last mission?"

"Yes." He grinned in a disarming way meant to reassure her. "It didn't slow me down, then or now," he added huskily, his hand caressing along her thigh.

Catching his wandering hand with its magical touch, she brought it to her lips, then pressed her cheek against the palm. "I would hate it if you died. I would grieve forever. In my heart, I would."

His expression hardened. The tension increased. She gazed at him steadily, refusing to be intimidated.

I love you.

The words stuck at the tip of her tongue. She didn't say them, but neither did she try to deny them. This was Drake, the love of her youth, of her woman's heart.

"You don't allow anyone to trespass into your emotional life," she whispered, "but if you accept my body, you must also accept my feelings."

"There's no future in it. I don't—"

She laid her fingers over his lips. "You do have something to offer. Yourself. Just as you are. Not as a hero who will go into any danger in order to save lives, but as a man who is incredibly kind and gentle. I've watched you with the boys. You have so much goodness in you, Drake. Why won't you see it?"

Passion receded and tension escalated. She regretted the admonition as the silence grew longer.

"What you think you see in me is only a pale reflection of what you are," he finally said with an intensity that stilled her protest. "You are the good things…the things I fight for when I go out."

The words seemed pulled from that dark place that lived inside him. She blinked as the tears burned her eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she said, consoling him as best she could. "Only this moment does. Give me tonight, Drake, and let tomorrow take care of itself."

"I can't promise tomorrow."

She shook her head, not wanting to hear it.

He exhaled deeply, then kissed each of her fingertips. "You make me dream, sweet Maya, of things that can never be."

"They can," she said fiercely and hugged him close, as close as possible, wanting to shield him from the pain he would never admit and the need he couldn't entirely deny. "Love me, Drake. Now. I want you now."

He hesitated only an instant, then bent to her mouth with a kiss that reached right to her soul in its loneliness and hunger. She pushed the problems aside and let the desire take her.

"Do I need anything?" he asked.

"Like what?"

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with hunger. "Would you feel more comfortable if I used a condom?"

"Why? I mean, why now?" she asked, perplexed.

He shook his head and caressed her cheek gently. "Such innocence," he murmured. "I'm safe. I haven't been with anyone, not since you."

"Neither have I."

"You didn't have to tell me that. There's never been anyone but me."

She didn't respond.

"Has there?" he demanded gently. He wanted to hear her admit it. He needed the words.

She closed her eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. It's enough that you're here. We have tonight."

For once, he had no plans, no strategy. There was only this moment and this woman. Beyond that, he couldn't think.

He cupped his body around hers, guiding her thighs to rest over his. Then he entered her, finding the ecstasy and the relief from memories that only this woman gave him.

As she cried out and writhed against him, he kissed her as if his life depended on it, as if there would be no tomorrow.

For him, there might not be. He had to remember that one fact. That was the future he had chosen. How could he ask another to share it?




Eight

The rain continued throughout the night and the next morning. Maya had little to say on the trip back to the Hacienda de Alegria, except to reflect that perhaps House of Joy was no longer an appropriate name for the estate.

"It's sad," she began, then stopped.

Drake cast her a thoughtful glance as he drove carefully through the misty gloom. "What is?"

With the dawn, sense had returned and they had retreated from each other and from that place they'd reached during the night, the place where they were both so terribly vulnerable. Making love was only a temporary haven from the reality of life.

"That things have to change. Your parents—" She realized this might not be a good topic.

"I don't think their marriage is very happy right now."

"There's been a lot of stress with the shootings and the kidnapping, then the police investigation."

"Isn't trouble supposed to bring couples closer?"

Maya ignored the cynical undertone. "It can go either way, or so I've read. I think marriage must be hard in the best of times."

He was quiet for a few minutes. "You wouldn't let me say this last night, but I think we should try it."

"Marriage?"

"Yes. For Marissa's sake."

"That isn't fair," she murmured in protest.

"Life never is."

The sardonic resignation in his voice troubled her. "A child needs a stable home. She would sense if we were unhappy. It would confuse her."

"Would we be unhappy? Last night was pretty fantastic."

Sparks shimmered inside her as she relived those moments of magic—his hands, so gentle as he stroked her, his lips, so enticing as he kissed her, his eyes…

Last night there had been moments when she'd felt close to him. With the dawn, the distance had returned. She wondered if he was thinking of his mother and father and the unhappiness that seemed to surround them.

That was the problem when morning came: all the problems came flooding back.

Maya wanted to offer comfort, but she didn't. The complications in their lives seemed insurmountable. She knew she had only to say the word and Drake would make the necessary arrangements; they could be married by noon. And then what? Happily ever after?

Her heart set up a cacophonous beat. They had shared a wild, tender passion during the night. That and a child, were those enough to cement a marriage into one happy whole?

She didn't know, but it was a chance she was reluctant to take. "It's easier to dream of how wonderful it might have been than to know the reality of failure."

"Yes."

He sounded so sad. It broke her heart.

"My parents aren't a good example," he continued. "Yours are. Why does their marriage work? I've never seen Inez or Marco even frown at each other, much less quarrel."

She had to smile. "They do, though. Once Daddy complained about too much spice in the salsa. Mom dumped the entire batch in the garbage. Neither of them spoke during the whole meal. Later, after we went to bed, Lana and I heard them laughing like mad."

Drake's eyes flicked to her. "Sounds as if they kissed and made up," he suggested huskily.

Chills ran along her scalp and down her arms at the look in those golden depths. It was the way he'd studied her last night, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her.

"Did we do that last night?"

The softly spoken question took her off-guard. "There's nothing to make up."

"I think there is."

"Guilt," she murmured.

"Perhaps." His manner was introspective. "I did leave you to face the music alone—your parents, mine, the town."

"It doesn't matter." She managed a laugh. "One thing I learned is that a person endures. One day at a time."

"Does it ever become easier?" He sounded doubtful.

"Yes," she said, realizing it was true. She studied him, sensing more to the question. "What troubles you, Drake? If it's me, you don't have to worry. I really can make it on my own, even with a baby. I've saved during the past ten years. With very few expenses, I've banked most of what I made. When I get my teaching certificate, I'll have a secure future. I won't be rich, but I'll be able to support Marissa without help."

"What if I want to help?"

"How? By sending money?"

"That's one way," he admitted.

"Money isn't a child's main need."

"I've told you I'm willing to be a full-time parent. And husband."

She swallowed as misery blocked her throat. "Then the baby and I would live with you? Go with you wherever you go?"

"You can't," he began, then stopped, a scowl on his handsome face. "I'm posted to danger zones, sometimes for months on end."

"Don't families ever go to these places?"

"Sometimes, but—"

"But you wouldn't take yours there."

He nodded. "One guy I worked with, his house was blown to bits by terrorists. It isn't a situation I'd recommend for women and children."

"As you said in your note, there's no place for a wife and family in your life," she said, not allowing herself to flinch from the hurtful truth.

He was silent for a mile. "I always thought that, but there's the child to think of."

"Marissa is mine, Drake. Don't try to take her from me. I still have that note. I'll use it in court if I have to."

Instead of anger, his expression changed to one of tenderness. "Mama tiger," he said softly, "I'd never try to take your kitten. As far as I'm concerned, you and Marissa are a package deal."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she kept silent and mulled over the conversation. She wondered if she was letting her ego stand in the way. Her mother had cautioned her about excessive pride often during her growing years.

But she wanted so much more than a marriage forced upon them because of the baby. She wanted love and sharing and laughter. Drake saw only the responsibility, but none of the joy of the union. That wasn't enough, not for her, and not for him in the long run.

They arrived at the ranch shortly after eleven, in time to see several people ride off in different directions through the drizzle.

"Something's happened," Drake muttered.

Maya felt it, too. Icy fingers of dread ran along her neck as they went into the house. Joe appeared at the door of his den. "Drake, you're back. Good."

"What's wrong?"

Ms. Meredith appeared from the living room. "Joe Junior has disappeared. He was gone this morning when Inez went to get him up for school."

Her eyes, so like Drake's, flicked to Maya, the anger a palpable force in them, then to her husband. Maya steeled herself for a dressing-down.

"I see no reason to pay someone to watch over the boys if she isn't going to do her job," Meredith said coldly.

"What happened?" Drake interrupted.

Joe returned his wife's frown with one equally ferocious before answering. "He was sent to his room last night for talking at the table."

Meredith glared at her husband for a moment longer, then spun and returned to the living room.

The boys must have been called to the main table for a command performance, Maya surmised, and Joe Junior had gotten in trouble with his mother. She stared out the window at the rain while Drake and his father looked at a map of the area and discussed the areas already searched.

"I think I know where he might have gone," she said.

The men turned to her.

"I showed the boys my old hiding place among the boulders, near the alcove on the beach, recently. A kid can crawl between the boulder shaped like a giant egg and the cliff. There's a clear area under the rocks, roomy enough to sit up and move about. It was my secret castle when I was a child."

"I'll go look," Drake said at once.

"I'll go, too," she said.

"No," Drake and Joe said together.

"It's too dangerous," Joe continued. "Visibility is nearly zero, and the steps are slippery."

She knew the men were right. She nodded. "Be careful," she said to Drake.

Drake swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat at the worry that darkened her eyes, not just for his little brother, but for him, too.

He'd never wanted anyone to be anxious about him, had never asked for it. With Maya, it wasn't necessary to ask. She was there, like the north star, steadfast in her faith in others. Warmth swept down to that cold dark spot within.

"I will," he said huskily.

He threw on rain gear and headed for the stairs. The mist obscured the beach entirely as he made his way down the steps. Once on the damp sand, he jogged toward the alcove, his eyes on the waves beating against the shore. The storm surge might have reached the rocky area during the night.

With the rain softening the soil, whole hillsides had been known to let go in a mighty rumble and fall like an avalanche on those below.

"Joe," he called when he reached the huge pile of boulders that had once been part of the cliff face.

There was no answer.

Drake lay flat on the sand and, using his elbows, worked his way through the V-shaped opening. Under the boulders was a small room, just as Maya had described. Joe lay on a blanket, curled into a ball, blissfully asleep.

"Hey," Drake said, shaking the boy's shoulder.

"What?" Joe sat up and looked around wildly. "Oh, Drake, it's you," he said in relief.

"Yeah. Time to go home."

Joe shrank back. "I don't want to."

"I know, old man, but you have to face the music sooner or later. Maya's worried about you."

"She should have been home last night," Joe said in accusing tones. His lip trembled and tears filled his eyes.

"She's waiting for you," Drake said kindly. "Come on."

He eased outside and brushed the sand off. Joe followed. Drake laid a hand on the boy's neck. Joe threw his arms around him and held on for a second before screwing up his courage and stepping back.

Drake was surprised at how touched he was by this simple gesture. He'd never been around the youngest kids much, but he felt a bond with them. He thought his own childhood had been happier and easier than theirs, although he couldn't say why. So much seemed to have changed in the past ten years.

The two returned to the house. There their mother—if she was their real mother—grabbed the boy and kissed and cried over him, almost hysterical in her relief.

Drake observed her actions with some concern and a bit of cynicism. Maybe he would ask Maya if she'd read anything about split-personality types. Or he could buy Rand's and Em's evil twin theory. It was beginning to seem plausible.

When Meredith at last let him go, Joe went to Maya. "I'm sorry," he said, misery in the droop of his shoulders.

She brushed the hair off his forehead. "I think you need to apologize to your parents for the worry you caused them," she suggested softly.

Drake smiled slightly when Joe faced the parents. In spite of a skewed family life, Joe and Teddy would be okay, he decided. Because of Maya. She was honest and loving and giving, and they trusted her.

Emptiness grew in him, pushing at the warmth that lingered from the night of passion. A man would miss a woman like her….

"I'm sorry, Mom, Dad," Joe said dutifully.

"You should be," Meredith said, anger surfacing. "That was a thoughtless and stupid thing to do. You worried us half to death."

"I think the boy realizes that," Joe Senior said. "Joe, you'd better go shower, then have lunch. I'll drive you in for the afternoon session at school."

The boy bounded out of the room.

"I'd better go see about him." Maya, too, hurried out.

Drake watched Maya flee. His mother was rather formidable when she got started.

"I have some news from Thaddeus Law," Joe continued to his wife, including Drake with a glance.

"What?" his mother demanded. "Is it about Patsy?"

Joe nodded. "There was a fire at the clinic, set by one of the inmates. All the records were destroyed. The present head of the clinic wasn't there when Patsy was, but he thought the letter you received was authentic. I suppose we'll have to accept that Patsy is dead and her ashes scattered in the Pacific."

"She could hardly fake her own death," Meredith said as if questioned on the matter.

Drake studied his mother. She was tense. Her eyes, the same color as his, held a feverish glint.

Her manner worried him. Once he'd worked with a guy, a bomb defuser, who had been the soul of quiet competence, then one day the man had exploded in the officer's mess, threatened to blow up everyone and had to be taken away.

The human mind could be a dangerous thing.

His father spoke. "I didn't mean to imply she did. It just makes things a little more complicated."

"Nothing is complicated! If the police would leave things alone, there would be no problem!"

Puzzled, Drake watched as his mother paced the floor, her hands clenched in rage. He sighed. He no longer understood this woman who had been a tender, nurturing mother in the past. He didn't doubt that her joy had been real when he brought Joe Junior home, but everything after that didn't make sense.

"I'm afraid two shootings and a kidnapping add up to more than a spot of trouble in the eyes of the law," Joe said wryly.

With an infuriated little cry, Meredith walked out. Drake listened until the sound of her footsteps was drowned by the slamming of her bedroom door.

His father stared out the window for a few minutes while Drake wondered if he should quietly disappear.

"Thanks for getting Joe," his dad said.

"It was no problem. He was where Maya said."

Joe smiled. "She's good with the boys. How did she do on the test?"

"I'm sure she aced it, but she was nervous. As usual." He shared a smile of understanding with his father.

"Did you two talk about the future?"

"Some. I think we might be close to an agreement."

"A settled life is good for a family. It can bring some of your happiest years."

"Or some of the unhappiest," Drake said, "if the marriage doesn't work."

His father gazed at him, sorrow in his eyes. "Then it can be hell," he agreed.

* * *

Patsy deposited the diamond earrings and slammed the lid on her jewelry console. Meredith's jewelry console.

She hated the life she led—Joe, the house far up the coast from the city and any excitement, the housekeeper with her all-seeing eyes. How had Meredith stood it?

Ha! Her goody-goody sister had probably loved it.

Sitting at her desk, Patsy glanced at the bills scornfully. She had more expenses than Joe could possibly know, what with hiring Silas Pike to get rid of Emily, a P.I. searching for the real Meredith and another investigator looking for her beloved daughter Jewel—lost to her because Ellis Mayfair took the baby away while she slept and wouldn't tell her where he'd hidden the child, which was why she'd had to kill him.

That stupid Pike. He was costing her a bundle. Maybe she could get more money out of Graham. No, probably not. And the ransom money from Emily's supposed kidnapping was useless, marked so that she couldn't use it.

She tapped her nails on the leather pad, then exclaimed in disgust. She needed another trip to San Francisco. Her nails and hair looked terrible, and there was no one competent in Prosperino, no one at all.

If she could find Jewel, she'd take her and the boys to live in Los Angeles. As soon as she inherited Joe's fortune.

He hadn't changed his will. She was sure of that. He'd better not. She needed that money to care for the children.

Her babies. They loved her. Children always loved their mother. Even Meredith's brats loved her, as if she were their real mother.

She laughed in delight. She had them all fooled.

However, Joe was getting harder to handle. It had been a mistake to have Teddy. But how was she to know that Joe had become sterile due to mumps?

However, Teddy had given her a hold over Graham, so that hadn't been all bad. Everything would be fine. She only had to hold on a little longer.

If Pike would hurry up and take care of Emily, if Joe would hurry and meet his end, then all would be well. With a fortune and her adoring children around her, she would be happy. She closed her eyes in ecstasy.

* * *

Drake walked aimlessly through the dark. The day had ended on an uneasy note. Dinner had been tense with neither of his parents speaking.

Maya hadn't eaten in the kitchen but had taken dinner for her and the boys to her room. Drake had left her alone, eating in the formal dining room, then leaving the house for a long walk after that. The restlessness was in him again.

He stopped beside the road as he recognized the outline of the country church he had once attended. Changing directions, he went around the church to the small cemetery at the back. Pushing the old wrought-iron gate open, he walked through and stopped.

His heart beat with a dull thud of dread as he contemplated life, a thing he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Continuing on, he walked past headstones over a century old to the newer section close to the road.

He hadn't been here in years, not since he used to come with his mother to put flowers on the grave stone each Memorial Day. At a small granite marker in the Colton section, he stopped. It was a lonely site with its one child-sized grave.

Michael Colton. Beloved Son and Brother.

His mother had had the last added for him. "Because he knew you loved him," she'd said.

Michael, watch out!

His call hadn't been fast enough to save his twin. His prayers hadn't been enough to breathe life back into that broken, lifeless body lying in the dust. Not enough…

There were some things that could never be made right.

Sitting on a bench, cold with winter dew, Drake rested his forearms on his thighs. A large part of himself was buried here, with the twin he had never stopped missing.

"Michael," he murmured, "there's a child."

He didn't know why he said that or why it felt like a plea. But there was a need inside him that couldn't be denied. He had to find an answer. Or else he thought his soul would die. It had come to that point.

"If you knew Maya…She was only eight when you died. Do you remember her?"

Would Michael love her if he were alive today?

As he did?

The question burned down to his soul. "I love her," he said, and that was another pain, one harsher than all the others. More than that, she loved him. And that was the greatest hurt. Because he didn't deserve it. He'd run out on that love, afraid to face what it might mean in his life.

Inez was right. It was his courage, not hers, that was at fault. Because to love was to risk the heart, and that was harder to face than risking his life.

What good did love do? that dark place questioned scornfully, riddling his conscience with the familiar guilt.

It couldn't keep a person from harm or protect them from careless drivers or the other twists that life threw at them. Wouldn't it be better for Maya and the baby for him to stay out of their lives?

A cold, lonely wind swept in from the churning ocean, shaking the trees and moaning around the eaves and spire of the little church.

The yearning churned in him. He understood it now. "I need her," he told the mournful wind. "Living without her is hell."

He tried to be objective, to put longing aside and think of her. Marriage might not be fair. Maybe he was being selfish, thinking of himself instead of her and the child, but the ache grew worse as he thought of leaving them again.

Perhaps if he'd never known her passion or shared those sweet moments in her arms…

But those memories were inside him, too, pushing at those from the distant past, making a place of their own.

He suddenly felt sure, if he missed this chance, there would be no others. The loneliness of his life would be absolute and forever.

He fought the despair, both of the past and that arising from the future. Restless, unable to resolve the many conflicts that raged inside him, he started back to the house.

Inez was in the kitchen when he bounded inside as if running from the proverbial hounds from hell. Or his thoughts, which were the same thing.

"Would you like some warm milk?" she asked. "I'm making a cup for Maya. Her light is on, and I think she sometimes has trouble sleeping. Marco does, too, and milk helps."

The gardener was one of the most patient, peaceful men Drake had ever known. "What bothers his soul? He's the most innocent person I've ever known. One of them," he amended, thinking of Maya.

The housekeeper gave him a fond glance, then poured a cup of milk and set it on the counter next to him. "'For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,'" she quoted softly. "We all have our weaknesses. Sometimes we must learn to forgive ourselves. It is perhaps the hardest thing to do. That, and to let the past go."

She smoothed the hair across his forehead much as her daughter had done with Joe earlier. Drake swallowed a lump in his throat along with a sip of warm milk. "What if it's the past that won't let go?"

Inez's long braid, the dark hair mixed liberally with gray, undulated along her back as she shook her head. "We make choices," she advised. "From moment to moment, we decide. Choose your life wisely."

Her smile filled with tenderness, she poured another cup of milk and set it near him, then washed out the pan. "You will take this to Maya when you go to bed?"

Drake nodded, humbled by this woman's kindness and her wisdom…and by her trust. She accepted him as part of Maya's life, knowing that he had been instrumental in the conception of the child, and yet, neither she nor Marco had uttered a word of recrimination when he'd explained his will and the provisions he'd made for their daughter and the coming baby.

Trust was its own burden, he'd discovered long ago. Michael had followed him across the road, trusting that everything would be fine. Maya had given herself to him, accepting his word that he would take care of her, and look where it had gotten her.

Choices.

He picked up the steaming cup of milk. He knew what he needed to do. Could he convince Maya it was for the best?




Nine

Maya bent forward with a groan. Her back hurt, and the baby was trying some new trick that caused peculiar pains to ripple into her spine. Her due date was the tenth of March, but tonight she wasn't sure she was going to make it.

"Ohh," she gasped as a giant fist pushed against her back from the inside. She placed her hands in the small of her back and tried to equalize the pressure.

Nothing helped.

Knock. Knock.

She grimaced, knowing who was at the door at this hour, which was just short of midnight. Her favorite time of day. She couldn't spare a smile, not even a sardonic one, as the pain eased and she straightened.

"Maya?"

"Come in," she said in resignation. Maybe Drake's soothing fingers could massage out the ache in her back, although she wasn't sure she could take the strong smell of horse liniment at this moment.

"Your mom sent warm milk," Drake said upon entering. He held the mug out to her.

Maya took it and settled in the rocking chair. Her hand had a slight tremor. "Thanks."

He pulled the desk chair around, sat and crossed his arms over the back, his eyes never leaving her. She found she couldn't smile or put up a false front tonight. The effort was beyond her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head and took a sip of the warm milk, her mother's answer to sleeplessness and other problems. Before she'd hardly had time to swallow, another of the strange gripping sensations started inside.

Setting the cup aside, Maya bent forward as the pressure increased to pain. A low moan forced its way from between her clenched teeth. She held her breath, stopping the sound.

"Maya?" Drake said, his tone sharpening in concern. He rose and clasped her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Don't," she whispered, barely holding on while the pressure grew and grew until it became close to unbearable.

"Is it the baby?" he demanded, letting go and dropping to his haunches before her. "It's the baby, isn't it?"

"Too early," she managed, then inhaled deeply as the pain suddenly let go, as if a belt being twisted around her had broken. She breathed quickly, catching her breath as the strange episode passed. "It's too early. I have twenty-four days to go."

His smile was disarming. "I've heard babies don't pay much attention to schedules and things like that."

"I've had this before. Something like it," she corrected. Nothing had been this severe. "False labor."

"Oh." He returned to the straight-back chair. "Is there anything I can do? You want a rubdown?"

"Not tonight."

She ignored the restlessness, the nervy agitation that made her want to pace, and took several big drinks of milk. That had always soothed her in the past.

But not this time.

Again a gasp escaped her as the squeezing started again, harder this time…lower…faster, as if the thing pushing at her was impatient….

Drake dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands. "Hold on," he said, his eyes dark in the lamplight.

She nodded, unable to do anything else at the moment. "Uhh," she moaned, then caught her breath as the fist closed hard and pulled her down…down…down…

Closing her eyes, she held on to Drake's hands as the world clamped down to this one place, this moment.

"Ah," she said as the pain stopped abruptly, leaving only the ping, ping, ping of familiar pain in her lower back. She panted and laid her head against the chair cushion. A sheen of sweat broke out all over her. "So odd," she murmured.

"Wait."

She heard Drake rise. He removed his hands from hers and walked away. In a moment she heard the faucet running in the bathroom, then he was back, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead and wiping her face.

Taking the washcloth, she ran it along her throat and around the back of her neck.

"How long does this false labor usually last?" he asked, pulling the desk chair forward so that he could sit directly in front of her, her knees tucked between his.

"I don't know." She wiped her hands on the cloth, then held it while she rested, an odd alertness in her body, as if she waited…

Minutes ticked off. Five, four, three, two…

The next contraction started. She leaned forward, clutching the damp terry-cloth with both hands. Drake's hands closed over hers.

"Easy," he murmured, "easy now, darling."

"Can't," she said. "Too late."

Together, they waited out the gripping pressure that rode roughshod over her will, wresting control from her so that she gasped aloud, then panted and rocked back and forth, wanting it to be done, to release her.

"Drake?"

"Yes?"

"Would you…get my mother? Please."

"In a minute, when it eases."

While she struggled with the pain, Drake mopped her brow, then his own with the washcloth. "You think it's time?" he asked quietly when she finally relaxed and inhaled deeply.

She looked pale and exhausted. Alarm beat through him. This was beyond his training and expertise. He was afraid to leave her, afraid to stay. She needed help.

"Perhaps I should call for an ambulance—"

"Get my mother, please." She cast him a pleading glance. "Ohh," she moaned and clutched her knees, bending forward as the labor, false or not, continued.

He dashed out of the room, down the hall and out of the house. Halfway to the housekeeper's neat house set back from the driveway, he realized he should have called.

Cursing, he sprinted faster. At the house, he pounded on the locked door and yelled for the housekeeper at the top of his lungs. A light snapped on inside. Both Inez and Marco appeared at the door, Marco with a shotgun in hand. Drake didn't blame him. He'd have done the same if some madman came shouting in the middle of the night.

"Is it Maya?" Inez asked at once.

Drake nodded. "She's in pain, but she says it's false labor. She wants you."

"Let me get some shoes."

The housekeeper disappeared. Marco returned the gun to its rack over the fireplace.

"I didn't think that gun worked," Drake said inanely.

"It doesn't. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand," the older man explained with a sheepish smile. "I didn't know what was happening."

"Yeah, well…sorry about waking you and all," Drake finished, feeling foolish. "I was worried."

"Go back to her. Mama and I will be along in a moment."

Drake nodded and dashed back toward the main house. Other than spotlights along the walkway and artfully placed among the shrubbery, plus the night light in the kitchen, only one light shone in the house. He headed for the north wing and the woman he'd left there.

He saw she was having another contraction when he entered. He went to her and took her hands. She grabbed on to him, her grip surprisingly strong while she emitted another of the almost soundless groans that shuddered all the way through him.

Maya was in pain; he was the cause.

That knowledge grated through his conscience as pain also racked through him. He felt helpless and frustrated at the fact. "How can I help?" he asked.

"Let me…hold on," she managed.

He heard the sound of a vehicle, then Inez's voice in the hall. Relief shot through him. The contraction eased, and along with it, Maya's grip. Drake moved aside when her mother entered the room.

"La niña?" Inez said.

"Sí," Maya answered. She no longer denied the possibility that this was the real thing. Early or not, the baby seemed intent on coming tonight!

"We need to get you to the hospital," her mother said.

"No time. It's coming."

"Now?" Drake asked, his worry increasing.

"Sí. Yes," she said, realizing she was talking to Drake rather than her mom. She looked at her mother. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be," her mother said briskly. "Women have been having babies for centuries. Drake, please call for the ambulance. Marco, you will find an iron in the kitchen closet," she said to her husband, who lingered anxiously at the door. "Please bring it—the heat will sterilize the sheets."

Drake made the call. "Now what?" he asked Inez.

"You must help her to bed. Take off your shoes and get on the bed, too."

Maya was shocked by this order. "Mama," she said.

"You will need the support," Inez explained. She directed Maya to the bed and Drake to get on his knees behind her while she placed a square of plastic and several towels into position. "Let her hold your hands."

Drake wrapped his arms around Maya and let her take his hands. He was startled, then shocked, as he felt something like a wave pass through her abdomen, making it hard…harder…

"Pant," Inez advised. "Scream if you want. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Bringing babies into the world is very hard work."

"I'm okay," Maya said, breathing hard.

Behind her, she felt Drake panting, too. His body was solid against hers, his arms strong as he held her in a half-sitting position.

"You are doing well," Inez assured her. "Ah, the water. Not long now."

Maya could only go along with events as nature took over completely. She panted. Sometimes she ground her teeth together. She moaned. Unable to stop, she pushed whenever her body demanded it.

Behind her, Drake helped her through each contraction as they grew harder and the time between them shorter and shorter until there was nothing but progressive waves of effort…effort such as he'd never seen.

"It's coming," Inez said softly. "Just a little more," she encouraged.

Drake panted with Maya. He held his breath when she did. His own muscles contracted each time he felt her bear down. The worry subsided as he worked with Maya to bring the new life into the world.

"Now, a hard push," Inez said.

And, with an indignant howl, their daughter slipped into her grandmother's waiting hands. Capable hands, thank heavens. Drake let out a great breath of relief.

"We did it," he said softly to Maya, kissing her damp temple as she rested against him.

Her smile was both weary and triumphant.

"Now then, little one," Inez said, giving the baby a vigorous rubdown with a towel. Finished, she held the baby out to Drake. "Say hello to your daddy."

Drake, realizing he was supposed to take the little bundle, sat on the side of the bed. He crooked his arms and Inez laid Marissa into the cradle thus formed. He stared down into the baby's blue eyes.

Her cries stopped. She stared back at him.

"Once more," Inez said to Maya. "Then you can sleep. Why don't you rock the wee one?" she suggested to him.

Drake moved to the rocking chair while the birthing process was completed. Inez removed the used towels and the square of plastic from the room, then helped Maya wash and change to a fresh gown. Finally she brushed her daughter's hair and clipped it back at the temples.

"Drake, bring your daughter over to meet her mother," Inez suggested. "You might want to stay and care for the baby while Maya sleeps."

He nodded and took a seat on the bed. Laying the baby in Maya's arms, he felt a squeezing sensation in his chest.

The child had a crown of black hair that stuck up on her head in an endearing but comical manner. He knew, when she grew older, it would be exactly like her mother's.

Marissa would undoubtedly have brown eyes. Would there also be gold flecks in them like his, or would she have the deeply brown eyes of her mother?

The squeezing sensation became painful as he gazed at his daughter. She was so tiny, so trusting.

Trust. It was a scary thing. So many things could go wrong. For a second, he wanted to run, to get out of the room and away from these women and their belief in life, that it would be fair, that it would work out, that it was okay to bring a new life into the world because tomorrow the world would still be there.

But there was no place to run to, he realized. For ten years he'd traveled all over the world. The past always went with him.

Choices? What choices did he have? The past wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't change it, atone for it.

Inez finished straightening the bedroom and left. In the hall, he heard her speak to her husband who reported he couldn't find the iron. She told him it was no longer needed and that he had a granddaughter, whom he could see tomorrow. Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

Maya uncovered the infant and checked her over. "Would you bring a diaper? They're in the last drawer of the chest." She sighed. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," he said, shaking the pain, feeling humble and somehow proud, as if he and Maya had accomplished a miracle.

He watched Maya diaper the baby, then he put a gown with a drawstring bottom on her while Maya directed, his hands awkward at the task. The baby didn't seem to mind.

"Our daughter," he said with a catch in his voice, looking into Maya's eyes.

He saw her take a deep breath, then she nodded. "Yes, ours," she murmured, acknowledging him as the father.

A funny feeling came from deep inside him, bubbling up to the surface like a fresh water spring pushing its way out of the earth. Ours. It was a word that spun visions of the future into his head, like cotton candy growing on its paper cone. He wanted that sweet promise.

"The bassinet is in the closet," Maya informed him. "It's ready for her. I think she's asleep."

He found the little bed and wheeled it over. Maya put the baby down and covered her with a pink and white blanket, then she tucked a rose-embroidered comforter over that. Drake had never seen anything so perfect as their tiny daughter sleeping in her tiny bed.

"It brings a lump to the throat," he said huskily. "This new little being."

Maya flashed him a pleased smile. She patted back a yawn and settled against the pillow. He watched her for a few minutes, knowing she needed rest. She was vulnerable at this moment as she might never be again.

He touched her cheek. "Will you marry me?" he asked.

Her nearly closed eyes snapped open. She studied him before she spoke. "For the baby's sake?"

"For all our sakes. We created this life together. She needs both of us. And I need you…both of you."

He waited out the silence, which seemed more fraught with danger than a stand-off at a shooting match.

Slowly, her eyes on his, she nodded. "It—it seems the right thing."

"It is," he agreed quickly. "This will be right for Marissa. And for us."

He would be the best husband and father anyone ever had, he vowed. He would atone for leaving her when she'd needed him the most. He returned her questioning stare with a level gaze.

She pressed her lips together for an instant, then, "We'd better think about it," she said. "Things might seem different when morning comes."

Seeing the worry in her beautiful brown eyes, he didn't push. Instead he raised her hand and kissed the back of it. "We'll work it out. Let's take each day as it comes. Sleep now. Our daughter will need you fresh and rested tomorrow."

He settled in the rocking chair, his feet propped on the bed while he watched his child and her mother sleep. At the moment, life seemed filled with possibilities and endlessly precious to him. It was an odd feeling, one he couldn't recall experiencing in a long, long time.

A baby. It made a difference in one's life. From a distance, he heard the siren of the approaching ambulance.

* * *

Maya woke with a start to a strange sound. She immediately knew what it was.

The baby!

She sat up as Drake lifted the child and smiled at her. "Hi, Mom," he said cheerfully. "I think this girl is hungry. The nurse brought a bottle of warm water, but we couldn't get Marissa to drink it. She has a mind of her own."

"Is she all right?"

"Yep. You need to go to the bathroom or anything first?"

Maya nodded and shuffled across the room. She washed up quickly, anxious to get back to the baby, who was crying. Drake was pacing the floor with her when Maya returned. She was in a private room at the hospital. She and the baby had been checked thoroughly upon admittance and declared "in fine shape," by the doctor on duty.

Sitting in a rocking chair, she held out her arms. Drake handed over the child. Maya unbuttoned her top and the nursing bra, then rubbed the baby's mouth against her nipple as she'd been taught in child care classes. A squeezing sensation pulsed through her breasts.

Marissa bobbed her little head around excitedly. She made funny motions with her mouth.

"You've got to latch on first," Drake advised the baby, laughter in his voice.

Maya continued to work with the baby until, at last, Marissa caught on and began sucking vigorously.

"Aah," Drake murmured, looking supremely satisfied.

When Maya's eyes met his, they both smiled. It was a moment of triumph, a sharing moment.

A worry she hadn't been fully aware of shifted inside her, becoming lighter. She sighed and relaxed as her first experience as a parent became easier.

Drake went to have breakfast after Maya had hers. He was back in the room within thirty minutes.

A new nurse came in later that morning. "Well, here's our big girl. Six pounds-eleven ounces, nineteen inches," she said approvingly. "Has she had anything to eat?"

"Yes," Drake said.

The nurse looked from him to Maya, then back. Her eyes sparkled, but she nodded solemnly. After taking Maya's temperature, blood pressure and vital signs, then the baby's, she wrote on the chart.

The family doctor came in an hour after that. "The impatient ones," he exclaimed, smiling at Maya, then taking the baby. He glanced at Drake, smiled and nodded. "Drake, how ya doing? Still in the SEALs?"

"Yeah. For now."

Drake was aware of the quick glance Maya cast in his direction, but there was no time to explain. He waited silently while the doctor checked out Maya and the baby, then pronounced them both fit to go home.

"Let's get the forms filled out," the doctor said upon finishing. He filled in the birth information. "Baby's name?" He glanced at Drake, then back to Maya.

"Marissa Joy…" Her voice trailed off.

"Colton," Drake said firmly. "Marissa Joy Colton."

He couldn't stop the swell of pride that rushed through him any more than Maya could stop the blush that swept into her cheeks when he claimed the baby as his.

His.

The knowledge gave him a feeling such as he'd never known. That he and Maya had created this tiny life seemed like a miracle. It was something to think about, a future to plan.

Shortly after noon, they left the hospital. Drake steered her into a nearby coffee shop and bakery.

"We'll each have soup and salad and an apple fritter," he ordered, recalling those were Maya's favorite when they'd stopped here last summer. "Mm, better bring two glasses of milk, too."

"Maya, is this your baby?" the waitress demanded, peering at the baby when he placed the infant carrier in a chair between him and Maya.

"Yes."

"Ohh, can I see her?"

"Sure, but don't pick her up. She's too young to be handled yet."

"Of course. Margaret, come see what Maya has," she called to another woman, who came out of the bakery kitchen wiping her floury hands on a towel. "What's her name?"

"Marissa Joy."

"Now isn't that the sweetest thing?" the older woman gushed, peering at the bundle in the carrier. "She's so tiny. How old is she?"

"A bit over twelve hours," Drake told them, unable to contain the ring of pride in his voice.

"Oh, my, brand-new and so sweet." The older woman eyed him. "Drake Colton, isn't it?"

"Yes."

The woman looked him over, then studied the baby. He tensed for more questions, but she only smiled in the knowing way women did when they figured something out concerning a man and his love life.

Again Maya's face went pink. He smiled tenderly. If she hadn't been so stubborn, they could have told these women they were married and legit and all that.

Funny, but he felt married. After all, he was a father, and he and Maya were husband and wife in all but name. They would change that as soon as he could arrange it.

"I came home on leave to welcome my daughter," he said, making his place in this particular scheme of things clear. "And to marry her mother as soon as we can arrange it."

"Oh," both women said, their eyes going wide.

He smiled broadly, enjoying their surprise. Glancing at Maya, he saw she looked thoughtful. He suddenly wished she were happy. He wanted that for her.

It wasn't until they were on the road out of town that he asked, "What troubles you?"

"You," she admitted after a brief silence. "At the hospital, when the doctor asked if you were still in the SEALs, you said 'for now.' What did you mean?"

"I plan on resigning my commission when I finish my present tour of duty."

She looked shocked. "No."

"Yes," he corrected gently, smiling as he contemplated her delight. "As a married man, I need a regular job so I can come home to my family every night."

She shook her head. "No," she said, sounding panicky. "No, it would never work."

"Of course it will." He tried to figure out what she was worried about. "Don't worry. I'll be able to pay the bills. There's a company in Silicon Valley that's offered me a position several times—"

"No!" she said vehemently. "I won't marry you, not like that."

"Why?" he asked, controlling his temper with an effort.

"Because you'd hate it. You'd be miserable. And so would I."

"I see." He swallowed hard as the truth came out. Maya hated the idea of marriage…to him.

So he'd been wrong. They'd shared passion, they'd made a child, but love didn't figure into it.

Stunned, he drove the rest of the way to the house in silence. The loneliness shimmered like a veiled curtain before him, beckoning darkly toward a future he was more and more certain he didn't want.

But it was the one he deserved.




Ten

"She's as beautiful as her mother," Joe Colton said, holding his three-day old granddaughter in his arms. He settled in an easy chair across from Sophie, whose baby was due shortly. Marissa, by coming early, was the first Colton grandchild by blood. Rand had a stepson due to his marriage to Lucy, so now there was Max and Marissa.

"Grandchildren," he continued in an introspective manner. "Wonderful babies to romp through the house and our hearts and grow into flowers as lovely as the roses."

Maya caught the glimmer of tears in the older man's eyes. Glancing at Sophie, Maya realized, not for the first time, that the Colton daughter and River James, a foster child, had also engaged in moonlight trysts last June.

She longed to talk to Sophie, but, even though there wasn't much difference in their ages, Maya had kept her distance from the Colton girls, especially after she started baby-sitting the two youngest boys. Ms. Meredith had made it clear she expected Maya to be available as a servant, not as a companion to her daughters. This fact had always made Maya hesitant to express friendship.

She had always loved Drake and Michael because they had often included all the younger children in their games. And later, there had been the undeniable attraction between her and Drake, first when she was seventeen and he was home from his last year at college, then again last summer.

Last summer. What a time that had been—filled with danger and excitement and the heady experience of falling in love, really in love, for the first time.

She swallowed as the memory became painful. What with Joe Senior getting shot at, it had been a perilous time for all, including the housekeeper's daughter, she reflected with hard-won composure. And now she was the mother of the first Colton grandchild. Marissa slept blissfully in her grandfather's arms, just as she had yesterday with her other grandparents. This was a tangled web, indeed.

The three adults and the baby were in the sunroom, which was warm and cheerful, although the February sun shone weakly through the clouds that gathered along the Pacific coast. Rain was predicted by nightfall.

Drake and River were tending a sick horse, which might have to be put down. Birth and death, the endless cycle. It made her feel infinitely sad.

"The little darlings may be roses, but parents certainly get a feel for the thorns when they keep waking you up every two hours during the night," Sophie said with an indulgent laugh. "And this is before she's even born."

"Payback time for all the nights you kept your mother and me awake," her father informed her.

Sophie wrinkled her nose at her dad.

Maya closed her eyes as longing rolled over her. She wanted to be like Sophie and River, in love, married and true partners as they planned their lives together.

She and Drake had parted on a tense note when they'd returned to the house. He insisted on marriage, but she knew his heart wasn't in it. That was what hurt. And why she'd had to finally refuse the offer.

Instead of making a place in his life for a wife and child, he was throwing over his chosen path for one he'd decided was best for them. He hadn't discussed it with her. He'd simply made the decision. That wasn't sharing.

Marriage was a series of compromises. No one person could or should give his or her all. Each person needed to contribute to it and to receive due consideration in return. Drake obviously hadn't the slightest notion of those basic concepts in human relations.

She sighed.

"Tired?" Joe asked. "Stretch out and go to sleep, if you like. I'll handle the little one."

"Get as much rest as you can," Sophie advised. "It may be the last you'll see for the next eighteen years. River is already worrying about curfews and dating and things like that."

This news drew laughter from Joe and Maya. River and Drake entered the room in time to hear it.

"What's so funny?" Drake demanded. He sat on the sofa beside Maya and stretched his arm along the back, not touching her shoulder, but close enough that she felt the warmth from him.

"We were discussing curfews for our girls when they start dating," Sophie explained.

"Marissa isn't dating until she's twenty-one," he declared firmly, eliciting another laugh.

"I'm with you," River agreed. "I'd never sleep if our girl was out after dark with some guy I didn't know thoroughly."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Next thing we know, they'll be arranging marriages for the babies," she told Maya.

"Probably," Maya agreed.

When she looked at Drake, he was watching her, his eyes narrowed in speculation. He probed deeply, holding her in his spell while he searched for answers to questions she didn't understand. He seemed quiet, pensive rather than angry as he'd been since Marissa's birth. She wished she knew what to do about the tangle her life had become.

"I think I'll go to my room for a while," she said, rising abruptly as the yearning grew stronger.

Taking the baby from Joe, she fled the family scene, feeling very much out of it. She'd hardly gotten in her quarters when Drake knocked on the door, then came in, bringing the bassinet with him.

"You forgot this in your rush to get out of the same room with me."

His expression was impassive, at odds with the pain the words should have conveyed, while he positioned the bassinet near Maya's bed.

"Thanks." Maya changed the baby's diaper, then settled in the rocker for a feeding. She studied Drake, who stood by the window, gazing at the cloud-topped mountains.

"I wasn't rushing to get out of the room because you were there," she said softly, deciding that honesty was the best way to deal with the situation. "It was my own feelings I was running from."

He turned to her without speaking, his eyes flashing golden in the lamp she'd turned on to dispel the gloom.

"I realized how nice it would be if, like your sister and River, we were a real family."

"We could be," he reminded her with a bitter undertone.

She sighed and rocked gently as the baby nursed rather noisily, then tapered off and fell asleep still holding on. When she lost the nipple, she roused and sucked again.

Maya, glancing up, saw pain on Drake's face as he watched her and their child. Her heart contracted into a hard ball of regret. "Drake," she whispered.

"Don't," he said in a rough growl. "I don't want your pity."

"Would you accept my love?"

The words dropped into the abyss between them, as stark as the pain, as challenging as a duel.

"Are you offering it?"

"Always," she said. "I've loved you ever since I can remember."

"Then why—" He stopped, as if to go on would betray some part of him he couldn't disclose.

"Why not accept marriage?"

"Yes."

She met the haunted look in his eyes levelly. "Because my love isn't enough by itself. I want yours in return. I won't share you with Michael."

His head snapped up. Shock, then anger, raced across his face before all emotion was masked behind his iron control. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I won't share you with the past." She drew a steadying breath, knowing they were on dangerous ground. He would understand or he would close her out. It was that simple…and that complicated.

He gave a dry bark of laughter. "We're all made up of memories and experience. It can hardly be dismissed."

"But part of you lives in the past you shared with your twin, in those final moments when he died and you decided it was your fault. Do you realize how disrespectful that is? As if Michael had no will of his own."

Maya continued rocking the baby as if she were having an ordinary conversation about ordinary subjects. She knew she was taking a chance that Drake would walk out forever, but the risk was worth it.

"He followed me," Drake said, so low she could hardly hear the words. "I called him a chicken. He crossed the road because of me."

"As you would have done had it been the other way around," she reminded him gently. "You were children, you and Michael. You thought and acted like children. Can't you forgive a child that makes a mistake?"

His hands knotted into fists. Bitterness was etched sharply on his handsome features. "You don't know how it is to live with regret, to know what you cost your family in grief, to face the loneliness of half a life and know it's your fault."

She could have wept for him, but held the tears inside. "I want the whole man, Drake. Not your soul, but your love, freely acknowledged and joyfully shared with me and our child. We deserve no less."

"I'll give you what I can," he promised hoarsely.

She nearly succumbed to the haunted look in his eyes, but she was fighting for their future. "I won't take scraps. It's all or nothing, my love. You can have me and Marissa and the future—or you can have Michael and a past filled with guilt and regrets." She took a deep breath. "It's up to you."

He was breathing fast, as if he'd been running. But Maya knew he could never outrun his past. He had to learn to deal with it. Was she asking too much?

"I don't know how to let go," he told her grimly. "Tell me. If you're so smart, then tell me."

Shaking her head, she admitted she couldn't.

"You're like that damned child psychologist I saw. You think you have all the answers, but you don't. Because you don't know. You've never lived through it."

He headed for the door.

"I loved Michael, too," she said to his back. "I think he would have adored our daughter."

Drake froze for an instant, then he walked out, closing the door with deadly quiet behind him.

Helpless, Maya rocked back and forth, back and forth, while the baby slept in her arms. She wondered if she was making a serious mistake in not taking Drake as he was.

There was the baby to think of. Every child needed a full-time father. Perhaps she should marry him, then try to reach the hidden parts of him, to win him with her love.

But somehow, she felt sure this was something Drake had to do on his own. If they were to have a real marriage.

She realized she was gambling with their future as much as Drake did each time he went out on a mission. "He must come to us," she resolutely told the baby and held the terrible, terrible grief at bay with an effort.

* * *

The ringing of the telephone jarred her. She answered reluctantly, still lost in sadness.

"Maya, this is your big sister. Were you ever planning on telling me I am now an aunt?"

"I meant to call, but…I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. So how's our girl?"

"Fine. An angel. And beautiful."

"Of course. She has designer genes," Lana teased, then sobered. "How is Drake handling things?"

Maya couldn't hold back a sigh. "He thinks we should marry." She explained everything that had happened.

Lana was silent until she finished, then she, too, sighed. "I'll be home soon. My job here is nearly done. My patient is settling in nicely with her sister. Her daughter lives nearby. The Homecare nurse comes by everyday. I'll be coming back to Prosperino soon. Call me whenever you need to. Promise?"

"I promise." Maya said goodbye and hung up. She felt utterly alone for a moment. Then her daughter made a little smacking sound. She smiled, comforted by this small thing.

* * *

Drake woke with a jerk from a nap. He'd been dreaming, but he couldn't recall the dream. He didn't want to. His dreams were all nightmares, anyway.

Rising from his bed, he headed for the living room. No one there. His father wasn't in the den, either. From the sunroom, he caught sight of Joe Senior outside, working on the fountain in the middle of the patio garden.

He pulled on a jacket and went outside to help. "Is it broken?" he asked when he was close.

His father glanced up with a start, then smiled in welcome. Drake wondered what the older man's thoughts were.

Family problems, he answered his own question. Trouble was reflected in the blue depths of his father's eyes. Looking into them was like looking into his own soul. Both he and his father were haunted, it seemed, by the past and the present.

"No, no," Joe said. "I'm just puttering. It's what old men do, you know."

"Ah, so that's what I have to look forward to in my dotage," Drake teased.

He picked up the net and dipped some leaves out of the crystal water. His father cleared the spigot where the water usually bubbled. Drake cleaned the filter basket.

"Ready to turn the water on?" Joe asked.

Drake replaced the basket. "Yes."

The water gurgled, shot a spray up in a graceful arc, then plummeted into the circular pool where goldfish swished their tails and swam lazily through the icy-cold, spring-fed water.

"Getting colder," Joe said. "It's supposed to rain tonight." He scanned the sky and the clouds that darkened as the day lengthened into late afternoon.

"Yes," Drake said absently, his mind on Maya and the baby and the changes that a moment of unguarded passion could make in a life.

Lives, he corrected. More than one life was involved in the present conundrum. His. Maya's. Marissa's. Even his mother and father were involved. After all, Marissa was their grandchild. He sighed, frustrated because he was unable to think through the situation and come up with a game plan. Maya wasn't playing along with him, he admitted with a sardonic twist.

Joe sat on the edge of the fountain. Drake propped a foot on it and frowned at the misty ocean.

"I'm adding a codicil to my will," his father announced. "To include your Marissa."

"You don't have to," Drake told him. "I've arranged for everything I have to go to Maya. She and the baby will be taken care of."

"I know you'll take care of your own. This is something I want to do. Your mother and I," he added quickly.

Drake didn't say anything to this last. He wasn't sure his mother would ever acknowledge Marissa. She hardly seemed to know her own children were alive. Except for her on-and-off attention to Joe Junior and Teddy.

"We were so thrilled when you and Michael were born," Joe continued, obviously lost in his own thoughts of the past. "Such beautiful babies. And smart, too. Rand was a toddler then, full of spunk and curiosity. We were so proud of our little family. When Sophie and Amber came along, we thought it was perfect."

"Then the kids grow up," Drake remarked dryly, noting the sadness that flashed through his father's eyes.

Joe nodded absently. "Life moves along, not always down the road you'd prefer it take."

"True. Maya isn't cooperating at all."

Joe studied his son, seeing beneath the surface irony to the man inside, and beyond the man, to the boy who had lived with guilt and regret most of his life. Drake had been the most serious of his children, taking more than his share of responsibility for the family and its welfare. The tragedy of his twin's death weighed on his soul.

"We can't make others conform to our wills," he said, his thoughts going to the Meredith he'd known in the past, unable to keep from comparing her to the present woman who lived in his house but was a stranger to him.

"I don't expect Maya to conform, but we have a child to think of. I don't want to be an absent father."

"A child needs both its parents."

"Yes, but when I told Maya I was going to resign my commission and take a regular job, she got furious about it. She said I decided without consulting her."

Joe suppressed a smile. Drake was frustrated in his attempts to do the right thing, but, man-like, he thought he could decide what was best and follow through. "I take it that Maya has her own thoughts about marriage and the running of it."

"She's stubborn," Drake admitted. "I never suspected how much."

This time Joe did smile. "I remember a quarrel your mother and I had during the early years. I sent you boys to bed without supper for some infraction. She didn't think withholding food was right."

"What happened?"

"No supper was served that night."

"Not to anyone?"

"No one. She said food, like love, was a basic necessity. If part of the family was deprived, then all had to share in the sacrifice."

"I remember that," Drake said, his eyes going warm with the memory. "We all ended up having supper in the kitchen."

"Right. Your mom and I caught each other sneaking food to you boys, so we joined forces and had an impromptu midnight run on the pantry."

Joe was relieved to hear Drake's chuckle. This trip so far hadn't resulted in the happiness for his son that Joe had expected. His chest contracted in worry. That was the one thing he wanted most of all—a full and happy life for his children. So far Rand and Sophie were the only two who had settled into married bliss.

But then marriage wasn't always blissful.

He had thought often on the moment when his had gone wrong. Was it when Meredith announced she was pregnant with Teddy? No, before that, obviously, since she'd taken a lover. A picture of Teddy's blue eyes and blond curls leaped into his mind along with one of Graham's identical coloring.

He swallowed hard. Surely Meredith, his beloved Meredith, hadn't gone to his brother….

But there had been someone. Betrayal. That was a fact he'd had to learn to live with.

"A man has to learn to put hurtful things behind him," he said to Drake. "You'll have to forgive Maya for not contacting you. Sometimes a person's pride gets in the way of happiness," he suggested, trying to be helpful without putting in his own two cents worth.

"It isn't that. She says I'm living in the past, but I'm trying to think of the future, to provide a home for her and the baby. I thought she'd be happy…."

Drake trailed off, puzzled and irritated with Maya's stubborn insistence that he find his soul before coming to her with his heart.

"Women like to be consulted on these things," his father said, obviously trying to be kind. "Talk to her some more. If you really want to settle down to an office job, Colton Enterprises has plenty of positions that can use a good mover and shaker."

"Thanks." Drake managed to smile at his dad. "Things certainly aren't going as I expected. I arrived home on the sixth, fully expecting to be a married man by the seventh. Here it is, twelve days later. I'm a father, but no closer to being a husband that I can tell."

"Is it a question of caring?"

I love you.

Drake shook his head. "She…cares. So do I. It's more a question of seeing eye to eye about the future."

"Talk to her. Don't let happiness slip through your fingers without fighting to hold on to it with all your might."

"I don't intend to," Drake assured the other man, feeling heartened by the conversation. He and Maya shared a child and a wild, sweet passion. She'd said she loved him. How could he make her see they belonged together?

"The rain is starting," Joe said. "We'd better go in. I have a conference call with Peter and Emmett in a bit. Emmett wants to expand our oil operations. Peter says it isn't a good time because of overproduction among the OPEC countries."

"Speaking for myself, I'd listen to Peter."

"He's a good man," his father agreed as they headed for the sunroom door.

The men went to the den for a brandy. Drake lit a fire and settled in an easy chair as the mist turned to a downpour.

* * *

Louise Smith woke with tears pouring down her cheeks. Outside, the Mississippi night had turned stormy, just as it had the other night when she'd woken from a nightmare. This time, it wasn't a little red-haired girl she'd seen in her dreams, but two baby boys, as alike as two peas.

Twins.

Somehow she knew they were hers. She'd had at least one child, the doctors had told her.

Where, oh, where were those babies?

She rocked back and forth, her heart locked in turmoil and pain. She couldn't bear it. She had to know. She had to find the past and face whatever horror it held, no matter how much it hurt.

Those babies…they needed her. Her sweet lost babies…oh, God, the babies…

"Please, please," she whispered. "My children…my husband—"

She pressed a hand over her mouth as the dark man appeared in her vision, his expression that of one stricken with unhappiness. He was real. So were the babies.

She'd been married. She had children. Once she had loved and been loved.

"I know it! I know it!" she cried. "Where are you?"

Only the howling wind answered. A torrent of raindrops hit the windows as if the world cried with her, echoing her grief.

"Please, God, please help me find them," she prayed, fearing she was coming to the end of her tether, that the insanity that had once claimed her would do so again.

Lost in the darkness of her mind, she might never find her past…or the love she'd once known.

Her husband. Her babies. The red-haired girl who was now a woman. Other faces of other people, some children, some adults. She needed them. And they needed her. She was certain of it. They were in danger, grave danger. She felt it to the depths of her soul. And only she could save them.

"Oh, please…please," she cried. "Heavenly Father, help me. Help them."

Lightning flashed with a tremendous brightness and thunder rolled over the land with a great roar that shook buildings and rattled windows.

"Joe," she screamed, but the fury of the storm drowned out the word. It was terrifying, but no worse than the storm within.