smooth skin. The crescent moon scar had
that faded, softened look to it, like it’d been there for years and probably
always would be. “The point is, trusting someone like you can be a one-way ticket
to hurt. If I can save Lucy from that, then I will.”
“Do you think you know what I’m all about, Valerie?”
He could’ve told her about his work, from his first
mission to the last. But helping people who’d lost their entire worlds wasn’t
something he’d done to earn Good Samaritan points with anyone.
He noticed her breath had quickened by the rapid rise and
fall of her chest. She replied, “No, I really don’t know what you’re all about.
And I don’t think I want to know.”
“This doesn’t have to be about you and me.” But somehow
it was.
“You were asking about the children’s foundation
earlier,” Valerie said brusquely.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Anna Christine
Jordan.”
She nodded, smiling genuinely for Anna, not him. “Two of
my favorite books around the time the twins were born were Anna Karenina and Dracula. ”
She shrugged, then frowned and said, “The girls contracted meningitis when they
were six. In fact, Lucy has permanent hearing loss in one ear, but the aid
helps with that. A-Anna’s …”
Instinctively Peyton leaned toward her, offering a
comforting hand. But Valerie flinched and shook her head. She didn’t want his
touch.
“Anna’s kidneys failed. Some years later your grandfather
got Memorial to okay the children’s foundation. It’s helped so many families.”
There was a slow sigh. “And that was it.”
But it wasn’t anywhere near the end of the story for
Peyton. He wanted to know things he never would know about Anna: how her laugh
sounded, how it felt to hug her, what she wished for when blowing out the tiny
flames on her birthday candles.
Dragging
himself out of his thoughts, he found Valerie watching him.
“This might help … maybe …” she said uncertainly, leading
him to the kitchen. She picked up a double picture frame and handed it to him.
He stared at the images of two grinning little girls—one
with wheat-blond hair and brown eyes, the other with darker hair and
grayish-blue eyes.
“These are their kindergarten pictures. I have copies so
you can hold on to these—and the frame, of course,” she added helpfully. “They
were supposed to have first grade pictures the next year, but I couldn’t afford
them. I’d gone back to school and …”
Peyton glanced around the chef-style kitchen. “School
paid off, I take it?”
“Here and there I made the right choices,” she said. “The
ranch was almost in foreclosure when I inherited it.”
“Your uncle …?”
“Uncle Rhys passed away ten years ago. But I wasn’t
living here at the time.”
That surprised him. Before he’d decided to scrap the New
Zealand internship altogether and take off on his own, he’d on impulse
invited—no, begged—Valerie to travel with him. When she’d flat-out rejected
him, choosing life on this land over life with him, he’d cut his losses.
Keeping his expression neutral, he said, “Can’t imagine what would’ve kept you
away from this place.”
“My uncle did. When he found out I was pregnant he sent
me packing.”
“What else did he do?” Peyton asked, touching her scar
with his gaze. That silvery slash hadn’t been there before he’d left Night Sky.
“Whipped me with a belt. He said he didn’t mean to strike
me on the face with the buckle, but he still wanted me out.” She sighed. “Uncle
Rhys thought Samuel Burgess—how’d he put it?—knocked me up. Logical, I guess,
since Sam was my boyfriend and you … you weren’t.”
Coldness seeped into Peyton. He’d left town with the
certainty that Burgess, an artsy kid in Valerie’s class who’d come from a
two-parent Protestant home, would give her the life she wanted. “What’d Rhys do
to Burgess?”
“He didn’t go after him, thank God. I made it clear
that faded, softened look to it, like it’d been there for years and probably
always would be. “The point is, trusting someone like you can be a one-way ticket
to hurt. If I can save Lucy from that, then I will.”
“Do you think you know what I’m all about, Valerie?”
He could’ve told her about his work, from his first
mission to the last. But helping people who’d lost their entire worlds wasn’t
something he’d done to earn Good Samaritan points with anyone.
He noticed her breath had quickened by the rapid rise and
fall of her chest. She replied, “No, I really don’t know what you’re all about.
And I don’t think I want to know.”
“This doesn’t have to be about you and me.” But somehow
it was.
“You were asking about the children’s foundation
earlier,” Valerie said brusquely.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Anna Christine
Jordan.”
She nodded, smiling genuinely for Anna, not him. “Two of
my favorite books around the time the twins were born were Anna Karenina and Dracula. ”
She shrugged, then frowned and said, “The girls contracted meningitis when they
were six. In fact, Lucy has permanent hearing loss in one ear, but the aid
helps with that. A-Anna’s …”
Instinctively Peyton leaned toward her, offering a
comforting hand. But Valerie flinched and shook her head. She didn’t want his
touch.
“Anna’s kidneys failed. Some years later your grandfather
got Memorial to okay the children’s foundation. It’s helped so many families.”
There was a slow sigh. “And that was it.”
But it wasn’t anywhere near the end of the story for
Peyton. He wanted to know things he never would know about Anna: how her laugh
sounded, how it felt to hug her, what she wished for when blowing out the tiny
flames on her birthday candles.
Dragging
himself out of his thoughts, he found Valerie watching him.
“This might help … maybe …” she said uncertainly, leading
him to the kitchen. She picked up a double picture frame and handed it to him.
He stared at the images of two grinning little girls—one
with wheat-blond hair and brown eyes, the other with darker hair and
grayish-blue eyes.
“These are their kindergarten pictures. I have copies so
you can hold on to these—and the frame, of course,” she added helpfully. “They
were supposed to have first grade pictures the next year, but I couldn’t afford
them. I’d gone back to school and …”
Peyton glanced around the chef-style kitchen. “School
paid off, I take it?”
“Here and there I made the right choices,” she said. “The
ranch was almost in foreclosure when I inherited it.”
“Your uncle …?”
“Uncle Rhys passed away ten years ago. But I wasn’t
living here at the time.”
That surprised him. Before he’d decided to scrap the New
Zealand internship altogether and take off on his own, he’d on impulse
invited—no, begged—Valerie to travel with him. When she’d flat-out rejected
him, choosing life on this land over life with him, he’d cut his losses.
Keeping his expression neutral, he said, “Can’t imagine what would’ve kept you
away from this place.”
“My uncle did. When he found out I was pregnant he sent
me packing.”
“What else did he do?” Peyton asked, touching her scar
with his gaze. That silvery slash hadn’t been there before he’d left Night Sky.
“Whipped me with a belt. He said he didn’t mean to strike
me on the face with the buckle, but he still wanted me out.” She sighed. “Uncle
Rhys thought Samuel Burgess—how’d he put it?—knocked me up. Logical, I guess,
since Sam was my boyfriend and you … you weren’t.”
Coldness seeped into Peyton. He’d left town with the
certainty that Burgess, an artsy kid in Valerie’s class who’d come from a
two-parent Protestant home, would give her the life she wanted. “What’d Rhys do
to Burgess?”
“He didn’t go after him, thank God. I made it clear
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