On Wings of Magic by Kay Hooper Page B

I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Miss James.”
    “No trouble,” she said politely. Dropping thekey into her purse, she waved cheerily and then hastily made good her escape before Hawke could pop out of nowhere and create another embarrassing situation out of thin air.
    Emerging into the early-morning sunlight, Kendall had no very clear idea of where she was going. She looked thoughtfully at the two cabs parked outside the hotel entrance and flipped a mental coin, then began walking.
    The village was easy to locate, and she wandered down the shaded streets and window-shopped for an hour or so. Sometime later her steps slowed as she followed the path toward the dignified old church not far from the hotel. She could hear the laughter and shrieks of children at play, and the sound stopped her dead in her tracks.
    She loved children and emotionally had adopted kids all over the world. It was always painful to leave them behind when her father was transferred and they moved on again.
    Her father had warned her years before that she would tear herself apart over “her kids.” He had used it as an argument for settling down and having kids of her own, telling her that one day she would love a child too much, and be heartbroken at the inevitable parting.
    It hadn’t worked out that way though—it had been the other way around. The child she had loved had left her, and Kendall was desperately afraid to become attached to another.
    “May I help you?”
    Startled, she focused on an elderly man whose gentle brown eyes and serene expression gave her avery good idea who he was. The collar helped. “Father Thomas?”
    “Yes.” The eyes moved over her in an unexpectedly shrewd inspection. “You’re Miss James.”
    “Kendall,” she corrected him automatically, her surprise obvious. “But how did you know?”
    He smiled. “Hawke brought Robbie back from the hotel yesterday afternoon and explained what had happened. I have to thank you, Kendall. If it hadn’t been for you—”
    “Please.” Kendall smiled a little shakily, thrown by this man’s friendship with Hawke, although she didn’t know why. “If I hadn’t been there, someone else would have helped,” Another happy shriek drew her eyes irresistibly to the square whitewashed building behind the church. “Father—if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time with the children.”
    “Of course, Kendall.” Smiling, he led the way to the surprisingly well-equipped playground between the church and the orphanage. Seeing Kendall’s expression, the priest explained, “Hawke provides a few extras for the children.”
    Kendall didn’t want to hear that. Not that she wanted to deprive the children, but everything she heard about Hawke seemed to produce yet another bond between them, and that was the last thing she needed. She didn’t have time to worry over it, though, because she was surrounded by laughing children a moment later.
    As always, Kendall lost track of time as she played with the kids. When lunchtime came, Father Thomas invited her to stay, and she did. But she almost regretted it when the priest spent the wholetime talking about Hawke. Interested, and yet troubled by the certainty that she was becoming involved with Hawke in spite of herself, Kendall listened.
    Father Thomas spoke of his younger friend with great affection and respect. He told Kendall that Hawke had been decorated several times in Vietnam—something the priest had learned through a mutual friend, since Hawke didn’t talk about it—and wounded once while evacuating children from a small hospital under enemy fire. He told her about Hawke’s intelligence, his sensitivity, his concern for the people around him.
    Kendall listened, her first impression of Hawke as a hard man fading away. And that, she knew, was dangerous. Knowing it did nothing to change it. Father Thomas drew a vivid picture of a man who felt more than he showed, who had seen—like Kendall—too much to be