About the Author
Hannah Dorchester studied her travel-weary, disheveled niece and nephew sitting across from her in the McDonald’s booth.
Neither had spoken since she’d picked them up at the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport a half hour ago, except to refuse every restaurant she could think of that might be open on Thanksgiving evening—hence, the fast food.
Though even in this child-friendly atmosphere they hadn’t touched a bite of their meals. And no wonder. Today they’d faced yet another huge change in their young lives.
After they were orphaned seven months ago in Texas when their parents died in a head-on collision with a semi, their elderly great-aunt Cynthia in Dallas had been adamant about gaining custody.
But two weeks ago she’d tripped over a toy truck and broke her hip badly. She’d then informed Hannah she simply couldn’t handle the children any longer—not while facing a long and painful recuperation.
Hannah had immediately begun the process of gaining out-of-state custody of the children. With a family law attorney at her side, she’d then gone to court to gain temporary guardianship.
Given that there were no other options besides Hannah or long-term foster care, social services and the court—bless them all—had expedited the process.
Scowling, Molly poked at the paper wrapping of her cheeseburger, then shoved it aside. “I don’t even know why we had to come way up here. I don’t like Wisconsin.”
“You’ve never been here, honey.” Hannah chose her words carefully. “It takes a long time to recover from a broken hip, and now Aunt Cynthia realizes she can’t keep you and your brother any longer, because she...um...just isn’t young enough to raise two children. But I know you’re going to make some great friends here. And if you start missing her, maybe we can all go down for a visit—”
“She didn’t even like us,” Molly scoffed. “She was mean.”
Hannah blinked. Cynthia was an elegant, austere woman who had never been particularly friendly during the few times Hannah had seen her. But mean? “Maybe she just isn’t used to being around kids.”
“She kept saying our uncle Ethan would be coming to take us, and he’d make us behave or else. ’Cause he’s some kind of soldier.”
Ethan?
Hannah swallowed hard, willing away the painful memories of the man she hadn’t seen for thirteen years. A man she never, ever, wanted to see again. “I’m sure she didn’t really mean—”
“Why would he want us? We never even met him.” Molly angled an accusing glare at Hannah, then dropped her gaze to her lap. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And even you didn’t want us till now.”
“I did, honey. Believe me. But Texas prefers to keep children in their home state, if possible, so they’ll face less disruption. The judge decided Cynthia could provide a good home and keep you in your same schools.”
Left unsaid was the fact that Cynthia, a wealthy widow who owned a major western wear company, kept a team of lawyers on retainer who had made very sure that her wishes were met. Hannah hadn’t stood a chance in family court back then.
But
