home to marry Cassie. The dog would be almost twelve years old.
Best not get Mariah’s hopes up on that one. Or Sam’s, either. He’d been very partial to that dog.
“It’s going to be okay, baby, it’s going to be okay.”
Mariah shuddered, her little hand coming to rest in his again. Sam could only imagine the thoughts running through the child’s mind—terrifying images of the tragedy that had torn her life apart.
Looking at the familiar front door of the big house that had been both prison and haven to Sam, he wondered if maybe he should go back to Phoenix, get a hotel room, tuck Mariah in for a nap and call his parents from there.
He’d sent them a brief note, almost three weeks ago, telling them he’d be arriving some time soon.
A brief note. That and a few very short phone calls were all the communication he’d had with them in the ten years since he’d left home in disgrace. They knew nothing about his life since. Nothing about Mariah.
And he knew nothing about them, other than that they were both healthy. Nothing about the state of his father’s business, the small but prestigious investment firm James had founded thirty years ago. He knew nothing about Shelter Valley, except for what he’d seen on the drive in. From the moment he’d walked out of his and Cassie’s house that Saturday morning, his parents had never mentioned her again. And after he’d left town two weeks later, they’d never mentioned Shelter Valley, either.
He’d never even received divorce papers, although he’d signed documents before he left town, allowing Cassie to terminate their marriage. He’d never given anyone a forwarding address.
He’d never expected to come home.
He’d purposely kept the time of his arrival vague. Hadn’t wanted them to be waiting for him, or to have anyone else waiting to welcome him home. Hadn’t been able to bear the thought of their not waiting, either, if truth be known.
But for Mariah’s sake, he’d needed to arrive in town with as little fuss as possible.
Now, sitting outside his childhood home, he felt like a fool. How could he take his fragile little girl in there, with no idea of what she’d have to face. Sam was all she had left in the world. How would she react if his parents were rude to him?
Or worse, indifferent? Cold?
A chill swept through him, in spite of the child sweating against him and the Arizona sunshine beating down on his truck. He had to turn around. Go back to Phoenix. He couldn’t risk creating any more anxiety or tension in Mariah’s life.
His parents were going to love her. He knew that. But he also knew he had to smooth her way. Give them a chance to speak their piece against him without her witnessing it.
And maybe he needed a little more time than he’d realized, as well—
“Sam?” The voice came from far off, but Sam’s heart recognized the call immediately. “Sam, is that really you, son?”
His mother came running out of the big front doors of Montford Mansion, almost tripped over her own feet as she came around to his side of the truck.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” he said under his breath, before pulling open the door. Mariah’s fingers dug into him, and she buried her face against his shoulder, just as his mother threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Oh, son, let me look at you,” she said, crying, smiling, trembling all at once. “I’ve missed you so mu—”
Her words broke off, and Sam, watching her face, knew she’d seen Mariah. Her eyes filled with wonder, with curiosity—and fresh tears—as she pulled back.
Sam grabbed hold of her hand.
Taking a deep breath, offering a short silent prayer, he ran his other hand down his daughter’s coal-black hair. “This is Mariah, Mom. I adopted her three months ago. She’s been waiting to meet you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“HEY! ZACK AND I are on our way to my folks’ for a barbeque and swim. You want to come along?”
Cassie jumped, her pen slashing across the journal subscription form she’d been filling out. The voice coming from her office doorway—when she’d thought herself alone in the clinic—gave her a shock. Not her partner’s voice, as she might have expected, but his wife’s. Zack would have made a lot of noise as he entered, to warn her that she wasn’t alone.
In case she’d been doing something private. Like crying…. Reaching for the remote just beyond her right hand, Cassie turned down the volume on the small television she’d been listening to while she worked.
“I’ve got reports to catch up on,” she said, smiling in spite of her refusal. Zack Foster had been her sole confidante and best friend for more than nine years. They’d met after she’d left Shelter Valley to finish her education in Phoenix. Now that he’d married Randi, she had a second best friend.
A friend who was far less predictable than Zack—
Randi leaned over Cassie’s desk, peering at the paperwork she’d just messed up. “Looks like important stuff to me,” Randi said, raising both eyebrows.
Cassie pointed to the pile of manila folders stacked in the tray on the far corner of her desk. “Those are the reports.”
“That pile doesn’t look as big as Zack’s.”
And he has time to take the day off, Cassie finished for her.
“He writes faster than I do.” She had no intention of crashing her friends’ family gathering, but Cassie didn’t mind continuing their banter. Even though she intended to stand by her refusal, she was actually enjoying herself. She enjoyed arguing with Randi over big issues and small ones. Randi’s professional sport days might be over, but the woman was a born competitor.
“Ah,” she was saying now, “but it takes Zack longer to figure out what to say.”
“And I have to supply forms to fill out. My medical supply rep is coming by first thing in the morning. Your husband tends to get a little testy when he doesn’t have the syringes he needs.”
Randi shoved aside the folders and perched on the corner of Cassie’s desk. “It’s not good for you to be here alone on a Sunday afternoon.”
Though Randi’s concern wasn’t necessary, Cassie was warmed by it. “The last million or so haven’t hurt me any.”
“That’s debatable.”
“I’m fine, Randi, really,” Cassie said, brushing a lock of red hair away from her face. She usually wore it pinned up or tied back, but since she’d been planning to spend the day alone, she hadn’t bothered with her hair. Or her clothes, either. She was wearing jeans she’d owned since high school.
Randi frowned, apparently not satisfied with Cassie’s assurances. But then, Randi was stubborn. It was hard for her to accept being wrong. It usually took her a couple of minutes to figure out that she was.
“How’d
