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  She nodded, her eyes straight ahead. “We were arguing about the baby when I drove off the road. My mother was trying to persuade me to keep the baby, telling me that she would help me take care of her. I wanted to give her up for adoption. Dwight had left me. He didn’t want any part of a baby in his life, and I knew I couldn’t take care of her the way I should.” Her lip trembled and tears coursed down her cheeks, glistening in the light from the window. She hastily brushed them away, shaking her head, releasing a harsh laugh. “Sorry. Don’t know why I’m so emotional about this now. It happened nine years ago.”

  Tate heard the anguish in her voice and guessed the reality of having Addison in her life now brought back memories from that time.

  She swallowed and continued, “Dwight had left me, and I really couldn’t take care of myself, let alone a baby. But my mother really wanted a grandchild—” Her voice staggered to a halt. She took a quick breath then continued, “When I found out the extent of her injuries, I knew there was no way Mom could help me take care of a baby. She would need me to care for her full-time. So I gave her...I gave Addison up.” She stopped there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I’m sorry.”

  The air was thick with loss and sorrow, and Tate couldn’t sit by idly anymore. He shifted closer and pulled her gently into his arms.

  He said nothing, just held her as her sobs built in intensity, racking her body, and her tears dampened his shirt.

  His heart broke for Renee and the difficult choice she’d been faced with, the sacrifice she’d made for the sake of her mother.

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said, raising his hand to stroke her damp hair away from her face.

  But she kept crying, her anguished sobs tearing at his heart. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair, whispering quiet encouragement as he helped her navigate this storm.

  Please, Lord, he prayed, help me find the right words to say to this sorrowing woman. Help me to do the right thing for her.

  Because right now, in spite of his own misgivings, he didn’t want to let her go. She felt so right in his arms. Like she was meant to be there.

  And the longer he held her the more right it felt. She seemed to fill an empty space in his life that had always been there.

  Until now.

  Renee wanted to stop the tears and grief pouring out of her like waves. But it washed over her, mocking the self-control she had struggled to shore up from the moment she’d found out about her mother’s injuries. From that moment, she’d known she had to choose between her mother or her baby.

  Tate’s arms around her created a haven and, as the sorrow subsided, a shelter she didn’t want to leave.

  His voice murmured into her hair; his hands stroked her arm, soothing and comforting. Strength and security.

  Her head felt hot and achy, and slowly she became aware of the dampness of Tate’s shirt. From her tears. She made a token effort to pull away from him, but his arms tightened around her.

  “It’s okay,” Tate whispered, his hand pressing her head back into the crook of his neck.

  So she kept her eyes closed, letting herself drift against him and the sanctuary of his arms. Just a few more moments, she promised herself. Just a few more seconds of letting someone else be strong for her. She’d had to carry so much in the past years, it was a blessed relief to just rest against the solidity of Tate’s comfort. To let someone else offer their strength, their support.

  To feel a man’s arms around her.

  Tate’s arms.

  Even as her heart yearned to stay in this refuge, her practical mind told her that letting him hold her like this would complicate her life and cloud her decisions.

  She curled her fingers against his shirt, her eyes closed.

  Just a few more moments. A few moments of support and comfort.

  But finally she drew on the self-control she had clung to all these years, wiped her eyes one more time, then pulled away. She pushed her hair back from her face, her eyes swollen and sore from shedding tears she had suppressed for so long.

  Tate kept his hand on her arm, clearly as reluctant to let her go as she was to leave.

  “When was the last time you cried?” Tate asked finally, his fingers making gentle circles at the back of her neck.

  Renee wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “When the nurse walked away with Addison in her arms.”

  “All that time.” Tate’s voice held a note of wonder. “All that time you’ve been strong, and held in your sorrow,” he continued. “Was there no one to comfort you?”

  Renee swallowed down another sob, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Mom was unconscious in the hospital, and my friends all had their own difficulties.”

  Mia was dealing with a shaky marriage. Evangeline had been dealing with a broken heart. Renee couldn’t burden them with her sorrow. Her aunts and uncles and grandparents had come to visit, but they all lived far away and couldn’t offer ongoing support.

  Her guilt over what had actually happened, over how her mother had been injured had kept her from telling them the truth.

  Tate trailed his hand along her arm, creating a light shiver that danced down her spine.

  “It was during that time that I returned to my faith,” Renee continued. “I couldn’t have gotten through it otherwise. So I really wasn’t all alone.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said, his gaze still holding hers. “There were many times in my life when I thought I could manage on my own, but learned, especially after Molly died, that God’s strength carried me through when I couldn’t.”

  Tate’s eyes shone with a conviction she knew to be true. As his words settled into her heart, she felt as if one more barrier was broken down between them. They shared a faith in a God who had brought them both through difficult times in their lives.

  Possibilities hovered on the periphery of her mind, and she felt the quickening of her awareness of him. She couldn’t look away; didn’t want to. Her world had narrowed down to this moment with this man.

  She didn’t know who moved first, him or her, but it seemed the most natural progression for their lips to touch. Their arms once again to embrace.

  She moved closer, her hand holding his neck, his tangled in her hair, anchoring her close.

  His lips were warm, soft, inviting. With a moan she moved her mouth over his, tasting him, inhaling the masculine scent of him.

  Her heart raced and her thoughts narrowed down to this moment. This man.

  It felt so right.

  And Renee didn’t want it to end.

  Finally, slowly, Tate drew away, letting his forehead rest against hers.

  His breath was warm on her cheek. She closed her eyes, letting the moment sink in.

  Visions of Addison, her mother, his father floated in her mind but she pushed them aside.

  Not yet, she thought, reveling in the moment. It had been so long since she was held by a man. Seen as desirable. But this wasn’t just any man. This was Tate. Someone she had allowed to come closer to her than she had ever let anyone since Dwight.

  The memory of Addison’s father was like a sluice of cold water.

  Behind memories of him was an onslaught of other obligations and responsibilities and she slowly withdrew from his arms.

  He eased out a gentle sigh, trailing his finger down her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he said. “In so many ways.”

  His words kindled a yearning she hadn’t allowed herself to feel since Dwight left her. A yearning for someone to see her as a person who had nothing to do with caregiving or work. A yearning for someone to support and sustain her when she couldn’t handle things on her own.

  Then the phone’s sharp ring intruded. She glanced at the display before she picked it up. It was her mother calling from her cell phone.

  As always, she felt a stab of worry as she hit the talk button. “Hey, Mom, are you okay?”

 
“Of course I am. Why do you always ask me that?”

  Because I always worry about you. Because you are in a wheelchair and anything could happen if you’re not careful.

  “Because you don’t always call from your cell phone, and I know you’re out and about.”

  “And I’m fine,” her mother said with a surprising sharp tone in her voice. “Stop fussing.”

  Renee pressed her lips together to hold back a retort. “Why did you call?”

  “I just thought I’d let you know that I might be a little late. I’m still at Sophie’s place, but the wheelchair lift in the van was acting a bit jerky, so I’ve called Jack Dilton, the mechanic, to come have a look at it while I’m still visiting.”

  “It’s probably that loose connection again.” Renee glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already nine. Her mother liked to be in bed by nine-thirty.

  “No. No. I’ll wait for Jack.”

  “I’m coming right away.”

  “I thought Tate was there to see the house.”

  Renee turned away from him, unable to face him right now, feeling as if her mother could sense his presence, would know what had just happened.

  “Oh, we’re done here,” was all she said as she got up from the chair.

  “Okay, then. How did it go?”

  “Um...yeah, good.” Renee didn’t want to talk about ‘how it went’ because so much else had happened. “But I’ll come right away.” She ended the call and set the receiver on the little stand by the back door. Her mother’s dilemma brought her back to her senses and her priorities.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Tate asked.

  Renee appreciated the offer, but answered, “No. Thank you. I know what needs to be done.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  “No. It’s just a simple fix. I’ll have to get after Jack and get that done properly.”

  “Wow. A paper crafter, businesswoman and mechanic,” Tate said with a note of admiration.

  “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she said with a dismissive wave.

  Tate laughed as he glanced around the house one more time, as if assessing it as he picked up his coat.

  Then he looked back at Renee. “So you’re sure about selling this place?”

  Renee felt her own convictions waver. Was she sure?

  A few weeks ago there was no doubt.

  But now?

  “I have to sell it. For my mother,” she said with more force than necessary, as if she had to eradicate the kiss they had just shared, bring herself back to reality.

  His curt nod indicated that he understood. Probably more now than he had before.

  “Of course you do,” he said, his eyes taking an inward look. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and hesitated for another moment, as if still unsure of her decision.

  Renee felt her breath quicken as questions hovered between them. His smile held a hint of sadness, then he turned and left.

  As the door closed behind him, she leaned against the wall nearest her, needing the support.

  Her fingers floated up to her mouth as if to feel the kiss they’d just shared. Then she heaved out a breath of frustration. The kiss had been a colossal mistake. It could never happen again. She had to keep her distance from him. He was too complicated and tempting.

  Why, Lord? she thought, closing her eyes. Why did You bring him into my life? This can’t happen.

  Yet even as she tried to convince herself, the memory of their kiss lingered.

  Chapter Eight

  The doors of the church elevator creaked open, and Renee pushed her mother out and into the back of the foyer. The noise of people chatting washed over them as Renee negotiated the gathering. Just as they came to the open door leading to the sanctuary, a young girl, Natasha, skipped over to them, her brown ponytail bobbing behind her, her gray eyes sparkling and her hands full of brightly colored carnations.

  “Happy Mother’s Day,” Natasha said, her wide smile taking in both Renee and Mrs. Albertson. She handed Renee’s mother a red flower and gave Renee a quick smile, then skipped off to give a flower to another mother, obviously pleased with her duty.

  Renee held back a prick of sorrow as her mother sniffed the flower. Mother’s Day had always been difficult for her. Each year the day was like pressing an unhealed bruise.

  This year, however, it brought a poignancy and pain that hit even harder. This year, the daughter she had given up had come back into her life.

  Renee negotiated her mother’s chair past a group of people laughing and chatting, and wheeled her into their own special place in the church sanctuary.

  Years ago, after her mother had come home from the hospital to stay, Benny, a local carpenter, had shortened one of the wooden pews so Mrs. Albertson could park her wheelchair beside the pew and not block the aisle.

  Renee sat down, and as she scanned the bulletin, looking for news, a movement in the aisle caught her attention. She couldn’t stop from looking up any more than she could stop her heart from beating.

  Tate and his father walked down the aisle of the church, Addison between them, holding both their hands. She was about to look away, when Tate shot her a quick glance, and Renee felt her resolve crumble like a cracker.

  They settled in a pew one ahead and across the aisle. Renee looked away from the man who had starred in her thoughts all night and the little girl who had been ever-present in her dreams.

  But this little girl’s father had kissed her, and had thrown Renee’s life into a tailspin she was trying, desperately, to recover from.

  Then, as the service started, Pastor Blacketer congratulated all the mothers in the audience and commended them for their love and sacrifice on this important day.

  Unable to stop herself, Renee’s eyes slid over to where Tate and Addison sat. Addison waggled her fingers at her, grinning. Something elemental stirred in Renee’s chest.

  She shifted her concentration from them to the tasks she had coming up. She had to call Freddy about the lien, Cathy Meckle, the buyer, confirm the conference call, look into flights to Vancouver and try to confirm the sale of the house.

  Even as the litany of her responsibilities swirled through her head, she could still feel the kiss Tate had given her. She had felt a deep connection with him.

  Pastor Blacketer announced the opening song, and she rose to her feet with the rest of the congregation, looking over to the words on the screen.

  “My Jesus, my strength, my rock and solid fortress, my hope, my song, my light in the wilderness.”

  She sang with the congregation, letting the words draw her along, reminding her of where her hope and her strength lay. This song had comforted her those long days after she had walked out of one hospital alone, then stood vigil beside her mother’s hospital bed. Those days when life seemed bleak and dark, devoid of hope. Thoughts of Jesus had been like a shimmering light of promise, holding her and her mother up.

  To her dismay, she suddenly felt the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes. She clenched her fists, focusing on the words. She couldn’t cry again. She wouldn’t.

  After last night, it was as if the dam had broken, and her sorrow was threatening to overwhelm her again. Last night had been a moment of weakness she couldn’t allow to happen again.

  Dear Lord, help me to stay on task, she prayed. Help me to put my needs aside and to focus on my mother’s.

  Slowly she felt the sorrow subside, and as she sat down, she kept her eyes fixed on the pastor, letting his message soak into her weary soul.

  However, by the time church was over, she felt the beginnings of a headache pounding at her temples.

  After the last notes of the last song resounded through the church, Renee put the songbook down. She wanted nothing more than to go home, put her feet up and lose herself in the book Evangeline had chosen for their book club. She didn’t care that it was a historical romance, complete with a dashing earl and a feisty debutante.

  But just
as she grasped the handles of her mother’s chair to wheel her down the aisle, they were joined by Arlan Truscott.

  “Good morning, Renee,” he said. Then he smiled down at her mother. “Happy Mother’s Day, Brenda.”

  “Thank you, Arlan.”

  “I was wondering if you and your lovely daughter would like to join us for lunch,” he continued. “As a way of thanking you both for all the work you have done on Addison’s scrapbook. She’s so proud of it.”

  Please, no, Renee wanted to cry out, but then Addison joined them.

  “Can you come? Please?” Addison pleaded, grabbing Renee’s hand, her little fingers clinging to hers. “That was the surprise I wasn’t allowed to tell you, but I kept it a secret, even from you, Daddy.”

  “Good job,” Tate said, smiling.

  In spite of the emotions roiling around her soul, she started to voice her regrets, when her mother spoke up, cutting off her protest.

  “We’d love to come,” Brenda said. “We don’t have any other plans.”

  Had her mother forgotten the casserole Renee had made and the cake she had baked for their own Mother’s Day celebration?

  “That would be wonderful,” Arlan responded, glancing back at Renee. “Then we’ll see you there.”

  And that, it seemed, was that.

  But as Renee pulled out of the church parking lot, her foolish heart couldn’t stop the zing of anticipation at the thought of spending more time with Tate.

  “That was an amazing lunch,” Renee’s mother said, wiping her mouth delicately with her napkin, then setting it on the table in front of her. “I had no idea you were such an accomplished cook, Arlan.”

  Tate resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his father’s smug expression. “He does have good taste.” Tate shot an admonishing glance toward his father, who sat at the head of the table in the dining room.

  The table was spread with the leftovers of a variety of salads, premade ham and chicken croissants, chicken skewers, crab cakes and artichoke dip. All very delicious and all put together by Kerry at Mug Shots yesterday and delivered last night when Tate was at Renee’s.