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“Learning the truth could be dangerous if we continue,” Mitch said.
“If?” Laura shook her head. “There’s no ‘if’ for me.” She was climbing out of her fatigue, fueled by a new desperation. “I deserve the truth and I intend to ask for it.”
Still, she was afraid. But she coudn’t give up now. “I can understand if you don’t want to get involved any deeper,” she went on. “I can continue alone. There’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”
“I am rather fond of my neck,” he replied. “But you really don’t think I’m going to let you continue alone, do you?”
Relief was trickling past the fear, diluting it. “I’m letting you off the hook,” she said, though even to her ears her resolve sounded weak.
Somehow his arms were around her, pulling her near. “I’ve always been a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
“Damsel? I’m no—”
But his lips were cutting off her indignation. And suddenly her protest didn’t seem at all important. Not nearly as important as the warmth of his arms holding her tight and the sanctuary she was finding there.
Closing her mind, she also closed off the warning bells that had been ringing for so long. Just for the night, she told herself. Just for the night.
Dear Reader,
I was drawn to write Family Found because the landscape of today’s family has changed so much. And I believe each family, from the typical mom, dad and kids to single- and blended-parent families, is special. This is particularly true of families with adopted children, children of the heart.
Mitch and Laura have both been searching for roots, but it’s love that brings them together and love that will cement the roots of their own “family found.”
I wish you happy reading and joy in your own special family.
Bonnie K. Winn
Family Found
Bonnie K. Winn
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
To Laura Shin and Paula Eykelhof, for embracing this story with such wonderful enthusiasm.
For my son, Brian Thomas Winn. I blinked and you grew up. I blinked again and you are a man serving his country. And my eyes continue to fill with pride.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THE OXYGEN WAS being sucked out of the very air, certainly from Laura Kelly’s lungs. Instinctively, she clutched her eighteen-month-old son, Alex, closer. It was an effort to protect, to deny and certainly to disbelieve. If what the physician said was true, Alex might have only months, even weeks, to live.
Dr. Fletcher gentled his voice. “Mrs. Kelly, I realize the news is a shock to you. However, you must know exactly what you’re facing.”
“But when you talked about treatment for Alex, you
