picked up her fork and chose a square of dark meat. Fork midway to her mouth, she blinked and paused, suddenly uneasy under his scrutiny. “What?”
“Can I ask you something?” He waited for her nod, forehead furrowed, his left hand, the one lying on the table, clenching and unclenching. “You spoke of giving up Max’s, er, your babies?”
Abby swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
“But—you can’t!” he protested, his voice sounding loud in the almost-deserted dining room. His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a grim line as he spoke in a lowered tone. “Abby, you cannot possibly be considering giving away Max’s children!”
“Do you think I want to?” she gasped as tears welled. “These are my children, part of me.” She set down her fork, no longer hungry. Emotions rose through her like a tidal wave but she forced them back in the struggle to make him understand. “These children are the most precious thing in my life. I would do anything, anything—” she emphasized “—to give them the best life they can possibly have.”
“Then why in the world—”
“The best life,” she repeated softly through the tears filling her throat. “Max’s children deserve that. But homelessness, lack of money, a life on the street—that is not the best life for them. Yet, at the moment, that’s all I can offer them.” She shook her head. “No child deserves that. I have to at least consider foster care.”
“Lack of money?” he said, honing in on her words. “But won’t Max’s military benefits cover everything you need?”
“I haven’t received any.”
“What?” Cade stared at her in disbelief. He shook his head. “Why?”
“The military says he never informed them he was married, never filled out the forms. He was also behind on paying his insurance premiums, probably because of the down payment we made on the house,” she said with a sad smile.
“But it’s been months since—” Cade clamped his lips together.
“Since he died, I know.” She sighed. “I sent them a copy of our marriage license, but they say that until they are able to verify its authenticity or legality or something, I can’t receive any funds. That’s why I didn’t have enough to pay the mortgage or power bills or...” Tears erupted in a flow Abby couldn’t staunch. She bent her head and let them fall, ashamed of her weakness but utterly weary of fighting.
Cade fell silent. After she regained control, Abby peeked through her lashes and found him staring at her, his blue eyes brimming with anger or perhaps disbelief? When he opened his mouth, his voice emerged in a squeak of protest that Abby shushed by reaching across and grabbing his clenched fist.
“It’s true,” she assured him.
“I know you’re not lying, Abby.” He drew his hand away as if he didn’t like her touching him. He leaned back and thought it over for several moments, then jerked his head in a nod. “It’s just that I never heard of the military withholding benefits when...”
“Well, that’s what they’ve done.” Abby sighed. “I think it might kill me to give up my babies, even for a short time,” she told him. “But I have to face the facts, and that’s a choice I might have to make if I can’t give them a home, food, safety. I have no intention of failing my children.” As I did Max.
Cade studied her for several long minutes. She knew something had changed when his broad shoulders went back and determination welled up in his blue eyes. He reached across the table, his hand closing around hers, squeezing tightly. Abby could only stare at him as the rough calluses on his skin brushed hers and wonder what the rush of emotions across his handsome face meant.
Was Cade God’s answer to her prayers?
“You have another choice, Abby,” he said in a clear, firm voice. “You can come to the ranch and stay until the babies are born. There’s plenty of room. Mrs. Swanson, our housekeeper, will be on hand if you need anything. You won’t have to lift a finger. You can rest and give the babies a rest, too. Stay as long as you need to get back on your feet.” His blue eyes locked with hers and held.
“But I can’t pay you,” she whispered.
“I don’t want anything,” Cade said in a brisk but firm voice. He stopped, shook his head. “Actually I do,” he corrected himself. “I want you to wait until Max’s children are born, to take some time before you make your decision about your future and theirs. Okay?”
Abby couldn’t believe it. God had sent her a place to stay, to wait for her babies’ arrival without fearing someone would hassle her about her bills, moving and everything else she’d been fighting. A little window of hope, that’s what Cade was offering. All she had to do was accept.
And yet, there was something in the depths of his kindly eyes, something that tugged at one corner of his mouth—something that made her stomach tighten with worry.
“What aren’t you saying, Cade?” she murmured.
Shutters flipped down over his eyes. He eased his hand from hers and leaned back, his big body tense.
“Come to the ranch, Abby. It’s better if you see the way things are for yourself. Then you can decide whether or not you want to stay.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Okay?”
Abby sat silent, thinking. God had opened this door, she knew it.
Max had trusted Cade with his life.
Maybe she was being weak by accepting this opportunity. Max would have expected her to handle her life without revealing that he’d left her unprotected. If he’d known she was pregnant he wouldn’t have left, but on the day she’d kissed him goodbye, the morning after she’d comforted him through a terrible nightmare, he went back to active duty in Afghanistan without knowing he was going to be a father. Neither of them had known what the future held.
She had no alternative but to accept Cade’s offer, just until the babies were born. Then she’d get on with her life, alone except for her babies.
“I’m ready,” she told him. “Let’s go to the Double L.”
“You don’t have to do this, Cade. I’ll find another way. I’ll figure out something.” Abby’s voice broke through the silence that had reigned since they’d left the city behind. “There’s no need for you to put yourself out like this.”
Abby’s words drew Cade from his morose contemplation. He suddenly realized she thought his silence meant that he didn’t want her at his home.
“What other solution do you have in mind?” He drove silently, waiting for her response with undiluted curiosity.
“I could sleep on my friend’s couch while I think of the next step.” Those green eyes of hers squinted at him with defiance. “Isaiah 62:7 says, ‘Put God in remembrance of His promises.’”
“Uh, okay,” he said, clueless as to her meaning.
“It
