thank me. That man was someone you trusted, your teacher for goodness’ sake. He should be in jail for what he did to you.” Nancy paused. Alicia could hear Nancy’s husband’s voice in the background. “Harold’s telling me to get to the point which is, if Jeremy can prove he’s a father, he’ll be able to inherit. It’s around four million, Alicia, very big motivation to find you. Once he does, he’ll turn up and press for details about your child. You have to be careful.”
“Yes.” Fear clamped a band around the back of Alicia’s neck. “I appreciate your warning, Nancy,” she murmured, checking over one shoulder to be certain no one was listening. “I’ll always be grateful for the way you and Harold took me in back then. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
“God would have provided someone else,” Nancy assured her, her voice cracking. “He always does. We’re just happy He used us. I have to go now. You be careful.”
“I will. Thanks for the heads up. Bye.”
Alicia stared into the darkness outside while she absorbed what she’d heard. The wheels clicked over the tracks in a rhythmic motion that had apparently lulled Jack to sleep. She peeked over at him again. The man was certainly handsome. But she couldn’t think about his looks or the way his raspy voice made her skin tingle.
The same ten-year-old prayer sighed from Alicia’s heart. Surely God would answer soon. Surely this time He’d protect her from Mr. Parcet. If not her, because she’d failed to be the mother she should have, then surely for her innocent child.
She’d let herself imagine expanding her business, but she ought to know that God didn’t give people like her their dreams. That was for better people, people who didn’t make terrible mistakes like giving away their child.
But the past didn’t matter now. She had to concentrate on finding her son, on making certain he was safe and loved. And far away from Jeremy Parcet, her rapist.
Again Alicia’s gaze rested on Jack. He’d been a detective. Maybe— No! Asking him for help would mean revealing her past. She could imagine the disgust she’d see in those blue eyes.
No. She’d have to handle this herself.
Chapter Two
Painful prickles woke Jack around three-thirty. He tried to shift his sleeping arm but a weight held him down. Waking more fully, he peered through the darkness at the woman whose head rested against his shoulder.
She reminded him of the Indian maiden in that show Giselle used to love when she was little. Pocahontas. Only Alicia Featherstone was prettier. Those high, defined cheekbones and straight, proud nose proclaimed her Native Canadian ancestry. Her hair, almost black as a raven’s wing, was bound in thick braids and tied at the ends by strings of leather woven with turquoise beads. Thick bangs fringed her broad forehead ending just above arched black eyebrows.
Though her eyes were closed, he knew they were a rich espresso that turned black when she was upset. Lush lashes rested on dusky cheekbones. Her full lips pursed as she gave a tiny shiver and shifted her head to a more comfortable position against his shoulder.
Alicia wore no rings. She’d said she was single, which Laurel had told him in passing. His sister had also mentioned that Alicia had planned a big summer project for the Lives Under Construction boys—building a sod house like the Cree Indians would have used when the first settlers came to Churchill. As soon as Laurel had been certain he was moving to Churchill, she’d asked Jack to help.
Alicia doesn’t know the meaning of overdoing, his sister had told him. Nothing stops her from giving her all. She’s what Mom used to call a giver. She thinks she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to.
Not a bad thing to believe. He’d hidden his chagrin at Laurel’s request. You think she’s in over her head?
No, but a whole house? It’s too much for her. I know you and Simone volunteered with the restoration work on that sod building at the museum in Vancouver. You must have picked up some knowledge. Laurel had pinned him with her gaze. The boys are really looking forward to this, Jack. They’re planning a community celebration when it’s finished, to show off their handiwork. You’ll help Alicia, won’t you?
If I have time, Jack had finally agreed. Running the hotel is going to be a steep learning curve, sis. It’s not something I’ve ever done.
It won’t be like running a big-city hotel. Laurel had chuckled. Anyway Teddy will be here for the whole summer to help. He’s grooming his son to take over his hotel empire. Teddy wants to give him time to manage on his own. With an expert like him to teach you, you’ll have lots of time for Alicia.
That’s when Jack had noticed something in his sister’s voice, something that he had to nip in the bud.
Don’t matchmake, Laurel, he’d warned. Don’t even consider it. I’m not interested in anyone. At all. Ever.
Ever? Laurel had smiled sympathetically. I know Simone’s death hit both you and Giselle hard. Give it a little more time.
More time? For what? It felt as if he’d barely survived the past two years. Jack was pretty sure more time wouldn’t heal the gaping hole in his heart. Simone had been his high school sweetheart. They’d done everything together. They’d been soul mates. That only happened once in a lifetime and God had ended it.
Now Giselle would be the focus of his world.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crush you.” The soft apology broke through his thoughts as Alicia jerked away. Cool air chilled his arm where her warm cheek had rested. Her face bore a flush of embarrassment. “Please excuse me.”
“No problem.” He rotated his shoulder, trying to ignore her scrutiny through the shadows. It didn’t work. He subconsciously noticed every detail about her. Not because he was interested, he told himself. Just a habit left over from his law-enforcement days.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I’m not used to sitting so long.” His nose twitched at the scent she wore. He’d noticed it earlier. Something dried and earthy, like an herb. Sage? “Are you full-blooded Cree?”
“Yes.” She looked a bit surprised at his sudden question but didn’t volunteer any more. Instead, she averted her eyes as if hiding something.
“Where do your parents live?” Why did he feel compelled to learn more about her?
“They died when I was thirteen.” Alicia faced him, her eyes darkening to black diamonds. “My dad was a pilot. They were returning from visiting a friend up north when their plane crashed. I was sent to live in Vancouver with a distant relative.” Her gaze challenged him. Any other questions?
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he apologized.
“It’s not a secret. Anyone in Churchill could have told you the same thing,” she said.
But Jack was pretty sure they couldn’t tell him any other details about Alicia Featherstone. According to Laurel, she kept to herself. He guessed most people respected the resolute barriers she wore like shields.
“Can I ask you a question?” Alicia murmured.
“I
