Книга - On the Doorstep

On the Doorstep
Dana Corbit


To: Meg, Rachel, Anne From: Pilar Re: My exciting day ¡Hola, amigas! You'll never guess what I found on my way to work today…a baby! His name is Gabriel, and he is certainly heaven-sent. And so is Zach Fletcher, the dedicated detective assigned to find the mother. This is the first time we've spoken, even though we attend the same church.I'm torn. I want the girl to be found but I also want to keep Gabriel for myself - my biological clock has been ticking like crazy! And I've been fantasizing about Zach rounding out my dream family….









Zach caught Pilar watching him with a strange expression.

Was it wariness?


She looked away, but Zach continued to study her. She was dressed in what he would describe as one of her trademark outfits: a ruffled, feminine blouse and a pair of black slacks.

Others might have been surprised that he could give such detail about a woman he didn’t know well, but as a police detective, it was his job to remember details.

The most notable detail was how natural Pilar appeared, swaying with a baby she’d just discovered, literally, on the doorstep.

TINY BLESSINGS: Giving thanks for the neediest of God’s children, and the families who take them in!



FOR THE TWINS’ SAKE—

Jillian Hart (LI#308)

BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—

Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312)

ON THE DOORSTEP—

Dana Corbit (LI#316)

THE CINDERELLA PLAN—

Margaret Daley (LI#320)

HER CHRISTMAS WISH—

Kathryn Springer (LI#324)

PAST SECRETS, PRESENT LOVE—

Lois Richer (LI#328)




DANA CORBIT


has been fascinated with words since third grade, when she began stringing together stanzas of rhyme. That interest, and an inherent nosiness, led her to a career as a newspaper reporter and editor. After earning state and national recognition in journalism, she traded her career for stay-at-home motherhood.

But the need for creative expression followed her home, and later through the move from Indiana to Milford, Michigan. Outside the office, Dana discovered the joy of writing fiction. In stolen hours, during naps and between carpooling and church activities, she escapes into her private world, telling stories from her heart.

Dana makes her home in Michigan with her husband, three young daughters and two cats.




On the Doorstep

Dana Corbit








To my editor, Diane Dietz, for guarding my “p’s” and “q’s.”

Thank you for your constant support and your willingness to juggle all the details so I can simply tell the stories I love. To my personal “doctor.com,” Celia D’Errico, D.O., who helps me to get the medical facts straight. I so appreciate your brilliance and your friendship.

To my sister-in-law, Vivian Berry, for your great Puerto Rican accent and sweet spirit, and to my brother, Todd Berry, for having the good sense to marry such a cool chica. And, finally to my POTL gang of critique partners, Nancy Gideon, Laurie Kuna, Loralee Lillibridge, Victoria Schab and Constance Smith, who freely share their time and talent with me.

Though we are miles apart, I carry all of you, my friends, in my heart.


By this all men will know that you are

My disciples, if you have love for one another.

—John 13:35


Zach—A Hebrew name meaning “God remembers, remembrance of the Lord.” It is derived from the name Zechariah. There are over thirty men with this name mentioned in the Bible, including the author of the Book of Zechariah.

Pilar—A Spanish name meaning “pillar, support.”

Gabriel—Hebrew name meaning “God is my strength.” One of seven archangels, Gabriel appeared to Mary to give her the news of her pregnancy and impending birth of Jesus.


Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed this visit with the people of Chestnut Grove, Virginia, and Pilar and Zach’s journey to love as much as I enjoyed writing it. Pilar’s character spoke to my heart because she questions God’s plan for her life, as we all do sometimes. Only, in Pilar’s case, she’s questioning it for the very first time. Zach, on the other hand, reminds me of myself and my own Christian walk, as he searches endlessly for answers instead of simply trusting. The arrival of little Gabriel on the doorstep helps the two of them find their way to each other and to a closer relationship with God.

We never know God’s purpose, only that it is perfect and that in time His answers will be revealed. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding”—Proverbs 3:5.

I always enjoy hearing from readers. Please feel free to write to me at P.O. Box 2251, Farmington Hills, MI 48333-2251 or contact me through the following Web sites: www.SteepleHill.com or www.loveinspiredauthors.com.

May God grant you joy along the journey,









Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue




Chapter One


Firsts were supposed to be good things. First loves. First kisses. Scary yet exciting, these beginnings were like birthday presents, wrapped in hope and tied with ribbons of promise. Pilar Estes used to believe all that and more. But as the first of September brought a fuchsia-tinged dawn to Chestnut Grove, Virginia, her morning of premieres only made her feel ashamed.

Last week if her friends had suggested she would dread coming to work, she would have thought they were kidding. It would have seemed impossible. Helping to create families through Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency was her dream job, a fact she’d repeated to anyone who would listen. She’d even earned the duty of starting the office coffeemaker because she was always there first.

This morning she couldn’t even gather the energy to get excited about an upcoming child placement. Her eyes filled with tears at just the thought of the office’s “Wall of Blessings,” the photo collage featuring the agency’s many happy adoptive families. If only she could stay home.

That truth humiliated her enough, but it paled by comparison to the shame she felt over her other first that morning. She’d begun to question God’s will for her life. Not just small, needling questions, either, but huge, nagging uncertainties with dancing question marks.

Her chest squeezed so tightly that Pilar cracked open her car window so she could gulp in some of the crisp morning breeze. It must have been her imagination that tinged the air with the odor of decay. Labor Day wasn’t even until the following Monday, and the leaves didn’t usually turn in central Virginia for several more weeks. But her betraying nose, so like her disobedient thoughts, made her wonder if dying dreams had a scent.

What ever happened to “leaning on the everlasting arms,” as the old hymn said? She’d always felt so comforted by that hymn and by its reference to Moses’ words in the Book of Deuteronomy, “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.”

Was she one of those people who only trusted when trusting came easy? No, that wasn’t true. She’d gone right on believing in God’s will during her mother’s heart trouble when Pilar was still in college. She’d never stopped praying through Rita Estes’s triple-bypass surgery and recovery.

And even at twenty-eight, she’d never questioned that God, in His time and with His infinite wisdom, would provide her with a home and a family. She’d continued to believe, though she could count her dates the last two years on one hand, and the one man at church she’d seen possibilities in didn’t seem to notice her at all.

So why now? Why couldn’t she let go of her fears this time instead of being so selfish and secretive with them? Hadn’t her psychology degree taught her anything about sharing her problems? Obviously not, because she hadn’t mentioned a thing to her parents or to her three best friends, and she’d never kept anything from Meg Talbot Kierney, Rachel Noble and Anne Smith.

Everything might turn out to be fine. Even her gynecologist had said so the day before. She wanted to trust God to take care of the situation; really, she did. She just needed some time to process the news, to accept that she might have more in common with Tiny Blessings’ clients than she’d known.

Polycystic ovarian disease. It sounded so complicated, but it was really just a fancy term for a combination of irregular cycles and ovarian cysts that could add up to infertility. Though it was still just a possible diagnosis, to Pilar it felt like a death sentence, at least for the future she’s always imagined.

She wouldn’t know anything for sure until the ultrasound her doctor had scheduled for Tuesday, but she worked in the adoption business. She understood the prospects. And the possibility hanging heavily over her heart was that even if she found a man to love, there was a chance she could never have his children.

Her nose burned and her vision blurred, but Pilar fought back her tears. She needed to push aside her worries and focus on her job. The coffee wouldn’t put itself on, and the Newlins would expect her to be there for their first interview later that morning.

She took a few deep breaths and found some tentative control. Grateful for the comfort of routine, she parked a few buildings past the agency office and back-tracked. A gust of wind fluttered her bangs and whipped her long black ponytail over her shoulder. She crossed her arms over her blouse, wishing she’d worn a sweater.

With her gaze on the sidewalk cracks, instead of the narrow former bank building that for thirty-five years had housed Tiny Blessings, she mentally ticked off a list of her other duties before the big Labor Day weekend. A home visit to schedule. An introduction to plan between prospective adoptive parents and a darling toddler with special needs.

“Lord, please help me not to be distracted from my work today,” she whispered when her thoughts flitted back to her own needs. Reflexively, she pressed her hand against her lower abdomen, as if she could protect the fragile organs inside. The minor cramps that had brought her into the doctor’s office in the first place squeezed again, taunting her.

“Please help me to stay focused,” she restated, knowing full well she should have been praying for healing or at least acceptance of God’s will.

That she couldn’t manage more than that today only frustrated her more. She’d never had patience for weakness in herself, and she wasn’t about to go soft now just because she had an upcoming appointment at the hospital.

If she’d been looking up from the sidewalk, she might have seen it sooner, but Pilar was already halfway up the walk before she noticed what looked like a giant lidded picnic basket resting on the building’s wide porch.

She jerked to a stop. Images of ticking explosives and chemical contaminants fluttered in her mind’s eye, before her good sense returned. She’d been watching too many television action shows. This was Chestnut Grove, she had to remember. Until a few months ago, she could have referred to her city as a real-life Mayberry, until her own agency’s horrible discovery of falsified birth records. That was inexcusable. Still, bombs and other big-city mayhem hadn’t taken the bus out to Richmond’s suburbs yet.

To be safe, Pilar approached the basket slowly, tilting her head and listening for any tick-tick-tick. At first, there was only silence. She snickered. Who did she think she was? Some Sydney Bristow Alias wanna-be without the cool disguises and martial arts moves? Her bomb-deactivating skills would probably be wasted on a gift basket from grateful adoptive parents. They occasionally received baskets, though usually during office hours.

Just when she’d gathered the courage to come close and lean over the basket, a strange grunting sound had her jerking her hand back. She listened again and heard the same grunting, human sound.

“Oh dear.” The words fell from her lips as she lifted the lid. A pair of bright blue eyes stared at her from a little pink face. Pilar didn’t move. She couldn’t. Seconds must have ticked by, but time stalled in a crystal vacuum as the baby’s unblinking gaze and Pilar’s frozen stare connected.

Strange how the child wasn’t upset, but content, swaddled in a receiving blanket and resting in a nest made of an expensive-looking blanket. But then a louder-pitched grunt splintered the silence as tiny feet kicked against the covering. The perfect round face scrunched and reddened.

“Oh, you poor little thing.” Finally able to move again, Pilar dropped her purse and keys and crouched next to the basket. Carefully, she lifted out the baby and loosened the blue receiving blanket that had a race-car pattern. Since the sleeper beneath the blanket was also blue, she assumed the baby was a boy. “How could anyone have left you here like this?”

Her sudden movement and her voice must have startled him because he jerked his hands and kicked his feet. Still, he didn’t cry. Warmth spread from the small bundle through Pilar’s blouse and into her heart. For several seconds she cradled the child, her body automatically rocking to a silent lullaby.

Pilar drew the side of her thumb down a perfectly formed jaw, the skin satiny beneath her touch. How pale his cheek appeared against her golden skin tone.

Instinctively, the baby turned his head toward the source of stimulation and worked his mouth in search of a meal. Pilar shifted him to her shoulder and stood.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t help you with that. But I am going to help you.”

Balancing him against her, she crouched for her keys and unlocked the door. She rushed inside, rattled in a way that was so unlike her.

When she reached her desk, she rested her hand on the phone and hesitated. “Call the police and emergency workers first. Then Social Services. Or is it Social Services first?”

Did she really expect the baby to answer? She shook her head, both to answer the ridiculous question and to pull herself together. She could do this. Even if she did work for a private agency rather than Social Services, she still was familiar with laws concerning abandoned children. She’d just never seen one close-up before.

The first newborn wail came as Pilar dialed 911. The pitiful, hungry cry cut straight to her heart, making her feel helpless. She refused to give in to it. Maybe she couldn’t meet all of the baby’s needs at this moment, but she would do everything she could for him.

Over the noise, she communicated the major details: abandoned live infant, appeared healthy, found at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency. After she hung up the phone, having been assured that help was on the way, Pilar lowered herself into her office chair.

The baby, though, would have none of it. He continued to protest until Pilar popped back up and started pacing. She walked, she swayed and she rocked. But nothing pacified him until, desperate, she washed her hand and popped her index finger into his mouth. As she moved him into a reclining position, he suckled greedily, still too new to understand he didn’t have the real thing.

He was so perfect, a tiny bundle from God that someone didn’t have the wisdom to recognize. She would have recognized the gift, would have had the good sense to cherish it.

As she touched his tiny hand, the baby grasped her index finger. Her chest ached. Her eyes filled. It was only another reflex, she reminded herself. He hadn’t chosen her and grabbed hold of her. Somehow, though, it still felt as if he had, as if an infant young enough to only differentiate comfort from discomfort had picked her, had placed his future in her hands.

For a blip of a moment, she imagined them as more than foundling and rescuer. In that stolen, secret moment, she was just a regular mother caring for her beautiful son.

In the distance, a siren fractured the silence, bringing her back to the real world where some people abandoned their children, while others only dreamed of a child to hold.

The child dozed in her arms, still sucking occasionally on her finger. The image was so precious and melancholy at the same time. A postcard for a place she probably would never see for herself. She wished— No, it didn’t matter what she wished. She had no business letting the tale unfold in her thoughts, developing it like a play with costumes, scenery and makeup. Coveting was sinful.

She slowly withdrew her finger from the baby’s mouth and shuffled to the door, reluctant to hand over her little charge but resigned to doing what was right.

“Goodbye, little one.” As she passed through the entry to the front porch, she placed a kiss on his fuzzy blond head. A single tear broke through her defenses and inched down her cheek.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“His name’s Gabriel.”



Detective Zach Fletcher couldn’t help being curious when Pilar’s head came up with a snap at his announcement. With five years under his belt as a beat cop and then another four years as a Chestnut Grove Police Department detective, Zach had developed a sixth sense about guilt, and Miss Estes had it written all over her. Only it didn’t make sense because she’d been the one to report the crime. What did she have to feel guilty about?

Zach was grateful for Pilar’s suspicious reaction because it distracted him from the ghosts of the past hovering in his thoughts. The whole scene felt like a cruel déjà vu, and he wasn’t ready to return there. He wondered if he ever would be.

Did Pilar worry he thought the baby was hers? He almost smiled at the thought. Even if he hadn’t seen Pilar at Chestnut Grove Community Church most Sundays for the last two years, he would have recognized that someone with a figure as slender as hers couldn’t have been pregnant recently. And only the worst detective would have linked the fair-skinned, light-haired infant with Pilar, who had olive skin, dramatic dark eyes and long black hair, due to her Puerto Rican heritage.

“How did you beat the ambulance here?” She glanced at his car, which was parked up the street near hers. Instead of waiting for his answer, she crouched to retrieve the thick blanket from the basket and wrapped it lightly over the baby.

“I was on my way to work, caught the call on the police radio. I live close by.” He chose not to mention that he couldn’t have kept away if he’d been ordered to, that he had this overwhelming need to make a difference this time when he’d failed so miserably before.

“When will the ambulance arrive?”

“In a few minutes.”

He checked down the street and hoped he was right. When he glanced back at Pilar, he caught her watching him with a strange expression. Was it wariness? Or curiosity?

Pilar looked away, but Zach continued to study her, for investigative purposes only. She was dressed in what he would describe as one of her trademark outfits: a ruffled, feminine blouse and a pair of tailored black slacks. Though she usually wore skirts to church, the theme was the same. It wasn’t just her choice of clothes that made her look tall. She was at least five-seven in stocking feet.

Others might have been surprised that he could give such detail about a woman he didn’t know well, or that he was noticing even more specifics about her now—such as her open-toe shoes and dark painted toenails—but Zach considered it his job to remember details.

What he noticed at that moment was how natural Pilar appeared, swaying with a baby she’d just discovered, literally, on the doorstep. The infant looked so comfortable sleeping there, as if this morning was like any other instead of one that would change his life.

She wrapped the blanket tightly over the baby, though she shivered herself. He was tempted to drape his herringbone sport jacket over her shoulders but worried it might offend her or make her more skittish. Her skin appeared to be the only thing keeping her from shattering into dozens of pieces.

Her uncharacteristic vulnerability surprised him. The Pilar Estes he’d observed at church had always seemed so strong, so independent. Her life and her family, all active members at their church, had appeared too perfect for the two of them to ever be friends. He’d experienced too-perfect at home and knew now what a fallacy it was.

But Zach recognized the importance of keeping a careful distance from case witnesses. He couldn’t worry about Pilar right now when his focus needed to be on this new case and the abandoned infant. When he stepped closer to get a better look at the baby, he tried not to notice that Pilar took an automatic step back.

“He had a rough morning, but our little guy doesn’t look too worse for the wear,” he said, keeping the conversation light. “God was watching out for him.”

The sides of Pilar’s mouth pulled up at that. “How did you know the baby’s name was Gabriel?”

“There was a note.”

She seemed to accept that and didn’t even ask to see it. “He probably wasn’t outside too long. The mother even knew enough to swaddle him tightly so he wouldn’t be able to move and maybe be smothered in the blankets.”

Zach ignored the hitch in his throat and said a quick prayer of thanksgiving over the mother’s insight. The situation could have been a lot uglier. “It wasn’t an average person who abandoned this baby.” He pointed to the blanket. “Isn’t that cashmere?”

Pilar traced her finger along the stitched edge and nodded. “The basket’s nice, too.” She studied it for several seconds, her gaze following the intricate weaving and designs. “Maybe even an heirloom.”

The wheels in Zach’s brain started spinning. Clearly, the mother wasn’t destitute, so what had brought her to this point? Maybe she was a wealthy, married woman who’d become pregnant from an illicit affair. He doubted that idea, as other socialites would have noticed her pregnancy during charity guild meetings and country club parties.

Maybe the mother had postpartum depression, or she was a pregnant teen with a pair of furious parents, just like Jasmine. He shook the thought away and tried to guess what the baby’s mother looked like. His hands perspired with the effort. Every time he imagined a blond woman with either blue or brown eyes, the image would transform into a wavy-haired brunette with the cutest dimples and blue eyes similar to his own.

No, he couldn’t think about his sister here. Not now. He didn’t want to see that pair of caskets again, one white and impossibly small, and he didn’t want to wonder again how he might have helped if he’d only known Jasmine’s secret sooner. This time could be different. This time he could help prevent a crisis from becoming a tragedy.

“Hey, look at this.” Pilar spoke just above a whisper, waving a hand for him to draw closer.

She showed him the label on Gabriel’s blue sleeper. He shrugged, no fashion aficionado. He took plenty of ribbing at the station for his wardrobe choices.

Pilar pointed to the label again. “That’s definitely not Ralph Lauren. The receiving blanket, too. I could buy both of those for ten dollars together at any of the local discount stores. Why would a mother who could afford cashmere choose these?”

“Maybe she couldn’t.” Could the blanket and basket have been products of a larceny? “I’ll check back at the station to see if there were any recent B and E’s—ah, breaking and entering cases—that might be related.”

As if they’d called to coordinate their arrivals, the patrol car and the ambulance arrived at almost the same time from opposite directions. All the noise awakened the baby, who cried out the moment his blue eyes opened. Two emergency medical technicians emerged from the ambulance, and Pilar rushed over to them. Zach conferred for a few minutes with Officer Steve Merritt before the junior officer turned the case over to him.

After he was gone, Zach scanned the crime scene for more clues. The suspect certainly had left enough to make him wonder if she wanted to be caught. Was abandoning her child a way of crying for help? He wouldn’t know until he found her, but he wanted to be that help if she needed it.

Though he tried to focus on the crime scene alone, something kept drawing his attention back to the ambulance where Pilar stood. This time she wasn’t paying attention to him at all. She only had eyes for the baby who was giving the EMT hearing damage as he tried to get a heart rate.

Zach figured from the baby’s healthy cry that he was going to be fine, but Pilar’s expression was stark and anguished. Was that just her empathy for the baby who had lost a mother that morning?

For a few sick seconds, Zach was jealous of that baby. He wondered how it would feel to be the recipient of Pilar’s empathy or her compassion. Then he grabbed hold of his wayward thoughts. He didn’t need anyone to care about him. People who cared got hurt, felt losses so profoundly that their hearts seemed to have been riddled with bullets.

Though he didn’t need it himself, Zach still valued the kind of compassionate care Pilar brought to her work. As a police officer, he’d seen far too few people who truly cared for their fellow human beings. The children of Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency were fortunate to have someone like Pilar on their side.




Chapter Two


Pilar took several long, deep breaths as she waited for her world to stop spinning. The knowledge that the baby appeared healthy wasn’t enough to slow this Tilt-A-Whirl she’d been riding on and couldn’t get off. If she looked up the word “surreal” in the dictionary, she would find a photograph of this scene outside the Tiny Blessings building. She would see flashing lights and uniformed emergency workers and a crying baby.

And she would see the man she’d secretly mooned over for the last two years standing not ten feet away from her and still looking past her as if she was invisible. Obviously, the crisis hadn’t changed anything.

She’d been overwhelmed enough just discovering the abandoned child, but that was before Zach’s deep voice had rolled into her ears and jolted her pulse. He was so out of context away from the church that it had taken her a few seconds to get her bearings. Not that she wouldn’t have recognized his voice anywhere, as many times as she’d overheard him talking with church friends and had wished he’d been laughing with her instead.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, careful not to get caught staring again. She’d been humiliated enough the first time. He looked so strong and proficient, taking charge of the scene and offering direction to the young uniformed police officer standing next to him. Usually the one to volunteer to head projects, Pilar felt relieved to leave the situation in Zach’s capable hands.

The wind was whipping through his wavy brown hair, forcing him to shove it out of his eyes. He wore his hair a tad longer than the current extreme styles, so it fell low across his forehead and curled the tiniest bit at his nape. Zach marched to his own fashion drummer, as well, even now looking endearingly rumpled in his sport jacket matched with a pair of khaki slacks that had never known a knife crease.

When she’d already watched him longer than she should have, Zach glanced back at her. The most startling pair of cornflower-blue eyes in, well, the history of cornflower-blue eyes, trapped her in their examining stare. Her breath hitched, and goose bumps appeared on her forearms, but she couldn’t look away.

At first he didn’t, either—his eyes wide. What did he see when he looked at her? Just another witness to interview? A case number? A day on the job? She hoped he didn’t see her yearning. She’d hidden it so well before just as all secret crushes should be carefully guarded, but her resistance was down this morning, her self-protection compromised. She exhaled when he finally looked back at his fellow police officer, but she felt oddly disappointed.

A hearty laugh pulled Pilar back to the commotion next to the ambulance.

“This one’s got a pair of lungs on him,” said one of the EMTs.

The other one laughed with him. “He’s just offended that you’re poking at him. I would be, too.”

“You take him. I’ll call in his vitals.” Before the second guy could protest, the first was off with the radio.

Gabriel continued to wail, his face becoming reddish-purple and his feet beating against the blanket. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He’d been dealt a tough blow that morning, but he was a fighter. He was going to be okay. She just knew it.

Pilar touched his head once more, her fingers tracing a path through the sweaty fuzz, and then the paramedic took him inside the ambulance. Her eyes and nose burned. She should have been praising God that little Gabriel appeared to be all right. He would be fine, and Zach would locate his mother for him. That was what she wanted, right? With surprise and a fair amount of guilt, Pilar realized she didn’t want Gabriel’s mother to be found.



As the ambulance pulled away from the curb, its precious cargo inside, Zach turned back to Pilar, anxiety heavy on his chest. He should have taken the easy-out clause Sergeant Roy Hollowell had offered him when he’d called in. The sergeant knew Zach’s history and was trying to save him some grief by not assigning him to the case, but Zach had insisted. Now he wondered why he’d volunteered to suffer.

He scribbled again on his notepad, taking down crime scene details. Hopefully, he would find enough leads this morning to keep him busy all afternoon. He turned to Pilar, who was walking back toward him, the wind blowing dark bangs into her eyes. She shoved her hair back from her face and rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms.

This time he didn’t bother worrying about offending her. Chivalry wouldn’t die under his watch if he could help it.

“Here, take my jacket,” he said, already descending the steps and lowering it onto her shoulders.

She started to speak, but he waved away her protests. “Don’t worry about it. I need to ask you a few questions, and I don’t want you to freeze while I’m doing it.”

But she wasn’t listening to him as her gaze was focused on his shoulder holster and the .40-caliber semi-automatic that until then had been hidden under his jacket. He asked his first question to distract her.

“Can you tell me the approximate time when you first noticed the baby?”

Pilar’s head jerked until she met his gaze again. She chewed her lip for several seconds and then shook her head.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, but try to think back. Do you know how long you waited after discovering the child before you called police? Dispatch recorded your call at 0724.”

Her gaze darted from the basket to the office entry and back before she turned to him, again shaking her head. Zach gripped his pen tighter but refused to become frustrated. Pilar was going to be helpful to him. He only needed to ask the right questions first.

“Let’s start with something else. Did you see anyone suspicious-looking around the building just before or just after you found the victim?”

Pilar rubbed her chin and looked at the ground. For a third time, she shook her head.

Zach’s jaw tightened. Was she purposely being difficult, or did she really not remember anything? From everything he’d ever sensed from or heard about the ultratogether Pilar Estes, he would have expected her to be able to relate the story in minute detail. Was she hiding something? And if so, why?

The basket drew his attention then, as full of questions as it was empty of its earlier contents.

“Can you show me exactly where you found the infant?”

This time she didn’t hesitate at all. She climbed the porch steps and peered down at the open basket, the cashmere blanket folded inside it. Her posture relaxed, and she pressed her lips together as if holding back a smile. When she glanced back at him, she raised an eyebrow though she easily could have said “duh” at the lame question, worthy of a rookie cop.

All right, Fletcher, pull it together. Her opinion of the way he conducted the investigation shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

“Of course. The basket,” he muttered. “Did you move it, or did you find it right there on the porch?”

“Right there.” She studied the container for several seconds more, and then her gaze shot up. “You said there was a note. I didn’t see one, but then I never thought to look for one. Where did you find it?”

Who was asking the questions now? It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “In the basket.”

She really smiled this time, an expression so warm it could have melted ice along the banks of the James River. The smile gave him the same jolt he’d experienced when he’d caught her staring earlier. She’d met his gaze squarely then and hadn’t bothered to look away.

Mirth danced in her glistening black eyes now, but earlier he’d seen something else entirely in them, intense and soulful at the same time. Perhaps he’d only reacted to Pilar’s need to connect with another human being on a day when she’d witnessed a tragic side of humanity, but he’d felt her reaching out to him. Stranger still, he’d been tempted to reach right back.

That fact alone should have sent him hightailing it back to the station so he could ask the sergeant to reassign the case. He didn’t do relationships of any kind, let alone the male-female kind. He liked being alone. He was good at it. And people who were good at being alone didn’t have to risk losing anyone important to them.

And yet Pilar’s smile drew him in. That shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d seen at church how adults and children alike gravitated toward her as she met each with her welcoming smile. This time, though, she’d directed her grin at him, and he liked that more than he cared to admit.

“Why didn’t I think of looking there?” she said when the lull in the conversation stretched too long.

“You were too busy making sure the baby was okay.”

“True.” Her smile was gone.

Why did he suddenly want to perform clown tricks or do a stand-up routine to make her smile again? Still, he had a job to do, and he didn’t have time to kid around.

“The note was buried under the blanket. We’ll see if we can pull any prints from it. Want to see it?”

He slipped back on the plastic glove from his pocket and opened the brown paper sack he’d placed the letter in. He carefully unfolded the piece of thick, ecru stationery.

“It’s addressed to the staff of Tiny Blessings. It says, ‘Please find my baby boy Gabriel a good home full of love. And tell him I love him.’”

When Pilar didn’t say anything, he decided he couldn’t blame her. He was having a hard enough time scaring up sympathy for this mother who claimed to love her baby, and he didn’t work in a field full of childless couples desperate to adopt. He could only imagine the mixed feelings Pilar must have felt.

“Gabriel.” She nodded, her gaze distant. “It’s perfect for him. He’s named after an angel. You know that story, of how Gabriel appeared to Zechariah to tell him his elderly wife, Elizabeth, would have a son, right?”

Zach shot a sidelong glance at her, convinced he hadn’t heard her right, but she wasn’t laughing.

“The same angel who appeared to Mary later, telling her she would give birth to Jesus,” he said to prove he did know what she was talking about. He wanted to ask Pilar what her point was, but he doubted she had one. Why were they reciting biblical stories when they should have been out finding Gabriel’s mom and protecting her from making mistakes that couldn’t be fixed?

“Yes, his name is perfect,” she said, nodding her agreement with the choice.

The conversation was so strange that Zach wasn’t sure how to respond. Maybe she just needed him to cut her some slack since she’d been through a harrowing morning. She wasn’t herself, and probably needed a friend. Though he knew better, he was tempted to volunteer for the job.

“Pilar,” he said in his gentlest voice, “you do see that Gabriel’s life isn’t perfect, don’t you? You have to see that he needs his mother.”

She stiffened and looked past him at the street, which was beginning to fill with cars as the rest of Chestnut Grove headed to work.

“She probably had very good reasons for leaving her baby,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced.

“We don’t know what her situation is, but it’s my job to find her.”

“And arrest her?”

She had him there. Personally, he might want to find Gabriel’s mother to make sure she was okay, but the state of Virginia wanted him to find her so it could charge her with a crime. Zach opened his mouth and closed it again. What could he say to that?

“I just wouldn’t want to see her face more misery if she’s located,” she said. “She’s done a good thing by putting her baby in place where he could be found. Now he can have that good, loving home she wrote that she wanted for him.”

“But she might be in real trouble, bigger trouble than facing criminal charges. We don’t know if she received proper prenatal or postnatal care or if she even delivered in a hospital.”

“Zach, how do you know she even wants to be found?”

“She might not, you’re right. But I have to find her and not just because of child welfare laws.” He tried to take a breath, but his lungs only ached the same way his heart ached.

“I just don’t want her to end up like—” Zach stopped himself, amazed that he’d been about to say “Jasmine.” He’d told no one about his past, except his superiors at work, and he’d only informed them out of necessity. It was too painful, too private. Yet he’d nearly bared his scars to someone he hardly knew. What was wrong with him?

“Like what?” Pilar asked.

Zach shook his head. It was so clear that he shouldn’t have taken the assignment. If he had any sense at all, he would go back to the station and ask for it to be reassigned. But he wouldn’t, because to him this was more than an assignment. He felt a calling here to help, no matter how much it hurt. He might be the only chance that Gabriel’s mother had.

Lord, please give me the strength to do the right thing. Please be with the baby’s mother. Show her that You care and that others care, too. Zach would have said “Amen,” but he got the feeling this situation was going to require a lot more prayers.

“Like what?” Pilar asked a second time, apparently guessing he hadn’t heard her.

“Like other women who’ve made mistakes.”

He would have explained that he, like her, wanted the situation to be okay for the baby and for his mother, if Kelly Young hadn’t rushed up the sidewalk then, her long dress coat fluttering behind her like a superhero’s cape.

“Why was the ambulance here? Is there anything wrong? Are you all right?” Her multitoned blond hair fluttered in the wind as she peppered Pilar with questions.

Zach stepped forward to take charge as he was accustomed to doing, but Pilar, her posture straight, moved past him to the agency’s director. The jacket he’d placed around Pilar’s shoulders was now draped over her arm.

“Everything’s fine, Kelly. I just found an abandoned baby on the steps this morning.”

“Just?” Kelly’s eyes were wide as she repeated Pilar’s word. “You just found an abandoned baby? This is all we need.”

Pilar looked back and forth between them. “Uh, Kelly Young, this is Zach Fletcher, a detective from the Chestnut Grove Police Department.”

Zach nodded at the always-professional director. “Miss Young.”

“Detective Fletcher,” Kelly responded before turning to Pilar. “We’ve met.”

Pilar breathed in suddenly as she realized how the two had met—first during the investigation concerning the falsified birth records discovered at the agency, and again following the recent arson and vandalism investigation. As much of a revolving door as Tiny Blessings had been for police personnel the last two months, it surprised Zach that he and Pilar hadn’t crossed paths there before.

Distress still lined Pilar’s face, but Kelly showed no outward sign of it. Just as she had during the earlier investigations, Kelly Young appeared professionally concerned but personally untouched by the surrounding chaos. Figuring the director was probably like him, adept at detaching herself from things that might clutter up her emotions, he filled her in on the details.

“We’re not sure how long the infant was on the step before Miss Estes arrived.”

How strange that he was back in his distant professional mode, when earlier he’d called Pilar by her first name. He offered the excuse that all members of their church were on a first-name basis, but even he didn’t buy it.

“The infant is being taken to Children’s Hospital in Richmond,” he explained.

Kelly didn’t say anything, seeming to quietly absorb the information.

Pilar rested a hand on her boss’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I think everything’s going to be fine. The baby—his name is Gabriel—seems healthy. The Department of Children and Families will find him a good home.”

Zach figured that if the director was worried about anything under all that composure, it would have involved damage control, rather than the foundling’s health and prospects. Pilar, on the other hand, seemed too intent on adopting out the baby before he even had a chance to locate the mother.

“We’re still a long way from that happening,” he reminded her, but wasn’t sure she was listening.

He let Pilar fill Kelly in on the rest of the story, listening in case she revealed more details she’d neglected to tell him. Still, the director remained calm, though even he recognized that the last thing the agency needed was to end up in the news again.

“I thought I might visit the hospital later today, just to make sure the baby is okay,” Pilar was saying as Zach tuned back into the conversation.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Kelly said before turning to Zach. “Is there anything else you’ll need from us?”

“Not at the moment. But I’ll probably want to talk to Miss Estes again after I’ve followed up on a few leads.”

With a quick glance toward her boss, Pilar handed his jacket back to him. “Thanks for that.”

Kelly looked back and forth between them but didn’t say anything.

“Sure thing.” After slipping his jacket back on and adjusting his shoulder holster, Zach pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Pilar. “You’ll call me if you think of anything else, won’t you?”

He offered a hand, and she took it. Her hands were small and soft, but her grip was sure and firm, like the woman he’d imagined her to be. He couldn’t imagine, however, why he was reluctant to let her go.

Because thoughts like that were unacceptable in the safe world he’d created for himself, Zach did release her hand and moved on to shake hands with Kelly. He needed to put some distance between himself and these people as soon as possible. Bending, he retrieved the basket and headed down the walk.

Like the unwanted publicity for Tiny Blessings, there were plenty of things in this world over which none of them had control. Illegal activities that occurred at an agency before most of the current staff were born. A sister whose loss was neither explainable nor forgivable. Even mothers whose lives reached some desperation point where abandoning their children seemed like the only alternative.

Zach could do nothing about any of these things, but there was one thing he could do, and he refused to stop until he’d finished the job. He was going to find little Gabriel’s mother.




Chapter Three


Kelly closed the door to her office and slumped behind the desk, able to breathe for the first time since she’d driven up the street toward work. Nothing like seeing an ambulance in front of her office, its lights flashing and siren blaring, to get the old blood pumping. What now? she’d wondered then. Now she just wondered why so many rotten things had to happen at one place.

Her biggest mistake wasn’t in assuming that the situation at work couldn’t get any worse. It was getting out of bed today at all.

“Why here?”

But even as she spoke the question aloud to her office’s four walls, she knew the answer. She worked at an adoption agency after all. Many people probably assumed that a private adoption agency could take in a foundling and find him a good home. Few knew that the duty fell to the Department of Children and Families.

Kelly cringed over the publicity that was sure to come. Local reporter Jared Kierney probably would jump on this in a minute. Even if he took the human-interest angle, the agency couldn’t bear more attention, especially anything associated with a crime.

Tiny Blessings had seen enough print the last several weeks to last a lifetime. First, there was the story Jared had broken about the falsified birth records she, Pilar and Anne Smith had found behind that false wall in the office.

Kelly gritted her teeth and wished again that she had fired the office cleaning lady, Florence Villi, months before she’d had the chance to leak that information to the press. But the front-page article about the arson fire that destroyed most of those records topped even that.

She could just imagine this newest headline: Baby Found. Discovery Adds to Agency’s Woes. She might as well kiss new donations goodbye after all this, and as a nonprofit organization, Tiny Blessings couldn’t afford to lose a single gift. Who could blame the Richmond Gazette for publishing the articles, though? Scandal made for good copy, and it sold newspapers.

Still, it broke her heart to think of the huge black mark Barnaby Harcourt had painted on the agency’s reputation. For the right price, he’d helped wealthy families make their daughters’ problems go away through illegal adoptions. She still couldn’t understand how the money was worth violating the public trust. Tiny Blessings had done so much good over the years, placing children in wonderful, loving families. She ought to know—she was one of the first children placed by the agency.

Someone knocked on the door just as a shaky feeling settled inside her and goose bumps appeared on her arms. She needed to get control of her emotions. Allowing this situation to become personal would be a mistake, and she couldn’t let that happen. She had a job to do, and she would do it, no questions asked.

“Yes?” She pulled the sweater off the back of her office chair and draped it across her shoulders.

Pilar entered the office. “Hey.” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Neither needed to point out the subtle workplace difference that morning. On ordinary days, Kelly’s office door was open unless she was meeting with adoptive parents or a mother considering adoption as an alternative. This would be no ordinary day for anyone at the office.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the coffee made,” Pilar said as she slipped into the chair opposite her boss’s desk.

Kelly laughed, appreciating Pilar, who was always trying to make those around her feel better. “Well, could you get on it?”

“Right away, boss.” But Pilar stayed seated.

Neither of them needed caffeine to wake up this morning, anyway. With her rolling stomach, Kelly doubted she would be able to choke down even half a cup.

“Some morning, huh?” Pilar said finally.

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Kelly took in the way Pilar was wringing her hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little shaken is all.”

Shell-shocked was more like it, but Kelly didn’t call her on it. “I’ll write up a press release this morning. I’m also going to have to give Jared that interview he’s been begging for.” She shook her head. “And to think that last year we were dying for publicity.”

Again, the room grew silent as each curled into her own thoughts. But Pilar leaned forward and rested her forearms on Kelly’s desk.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I wasn’t the one who just found a baby—”

“You know what I mean. Did it make you wonder about your birth mother?”

Kelly shook her head, but straightened in her chair. “Of course not.”

For the umpteenth time, she wished she’d been alone when she’d come across her own altered birth records, and her friend Ben Cavanaugh’s, among the dozens in the hidden box. It was information she’d never needed nor wanted to know, and she wished her employees didn’t know it, either.

Marcus and Carol Young were her parents, and that was that. She’d had the most perfect childhood a person could ever ask for, and she never would have betrayed their memory by digging up the past. Unfortunately, that past had resurfaced without any help from her.

“I just hope baby Gabriel’s okay.”

Pilar might as well have slugged Kelly, as effectively as her words knocked the wind out of her. How could she have only been thinking about their agency and her personal mess when that baby had lost his mother that morning?

She concentrated on Pilar, who was staring out the office window toward Main Street, though from that seated position she couldn’t have seen anything outside. For someone with olive skin, she appeared pale. She gripped and ungripped her hands.

“You’re more than a little shaken, aren’t you?”

At least Pilar didn’t bother to deny it this time. The corners of her mouth turned up in what could barely be called a smile.

Kelly reached across the desk and squeezed both of her hands. “He’ll be fine. How can he not be? He was already fortunate enough to have been left on the steps for an early riser like you.”

Pulling her hands away, Pilar rubbed her upper arms as if she’d become chilled. “I just can’t stop imagining what might have happened to him if I hadn’t gotten there. If he’d been out there, exposed to the elements, where just anyone could have taken him.”

“But it didn’t happen that way. He’s safe now and in capable hands. Detective Fletcher will have the case under control in no time.”

Pilar stiffened, her hands becoming still on her arms. After several seconds, she glanced across the desk, her expression too casual. “You think so?”

Kelly thought something, all right. She’d had a fleeting suspicion earlier, but now she was convinced. Why had Pilar been wearing Zach’s jacket in the first place? And why had she been uncomfortable returning it with Kelly there?

“He’s a great detective.” Still, she couldn’t resist adding, “He’ll probably need to ask you more questions about the case, though.”

“Oh.”

Oh was right. Biting her lip, Kelly managed not to laugh. In the whole time Pilar had worked at Tiny Blessings, she’d gone on maybe a handful of dates, and it was a pretty empty hand at that. She was pleased to realize her friend wasn’t immune to the handsome Detective Fletcher.



As immediately after work as she could without leaving before five or speeding, Pilar arrived at the door of the downtown tri-level that felt as comfortable to her as her parents’ home.

The warmth that poured out of the place the moment Naomi Fraser opened the glass storm door made Pilar smile. Naomi’s vivid blue eyes glistened in the late-afternoon sun as she nabbed Pilar for a not-so-quick hug against her pillow-soft body.

“You sure made it here fast.”

“Traffic was good,” Pilar managed to get out, still enclosed in that warm embrace. If there had been traffic tie-ups she might have been tempted to drive on the sidewalk, but Pilar didn’t tell the minister’s wife that.

Naomi let go in her own sweet time and took a step back as if to appraise her guest. She shook her head, her no-nonsense short haircut fluttering and falling back into place, and gave Pilar one more squeeze for good measure.

That Naomi always hugged like she meant it was one of the things Pilar adored about the woman she’d known since her days on the church’s infant cradle roll. There were plenty of other reasons to like someone who wore pearls with blue jeans and never sugarcoated the truth, but Pilar liked the hugs best. And it was a well-known fact that one of the best advertisements Reverend John Fraser had for his church was his redheaded darling of a wife.

“Good traffic is a blessing, and so are babies.” Naomi’s eyes danced with excitement as she led Pilar to the dark-paneled family room and gestured toward the portable crib in the corner. “You were right—he’s a baby doll.”

Her pulse racing, Pilar could barely restrain herself from sprinting over to the crib, grabbing Gabriel and holding him against her heart. She forced herself to slow down by studying the Frasers’ clean but lived-in house. The stacks of books, Bibles and crossword puzzle magazines, so different from her mother’s immaculate home, made the room seem as relaxed as the family itself.

Proud of herself for her control, Pilar finally was close enough to peek over the edge of the crib’s mesh side. Gabriel lay there on his back, with one arm he’d freed from his swaddling blanket pressed against his jaw. Until her lungs started aching, Pilar didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled it slowly.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Naomi asked.

And alone, she wanted to add, but she only nodded. When she couldn’t resist any longer, she reached over the side of the crib to brush his damp hair. He slept so soundly that he didn’t move, except for the even rise and fall of his chest.

Naomi stepped close and whispered, “He’s been sleeping like that almost since he got here. Those doctors probably wore him out.”

“They said he was all right, didn’t they?” Her question sounded too sharp in her ears.

“Of course,” Naomi said, though she studied her for a few seconds. “He’s a perfectly healthy baby boy. And really new, too—no more than a few days.”

“I still can’t believe Gabriel ended up here. I was so surprised when you mentioned it on the phone earlier.”

“It shouldn’t surprise you too much,” Reverend Fraser said as he crossed from the kitchen back to his study, a handful of chocolate chip cookies in his grip. His wire-rim glasses were perched on his nose like always, but he wasn’t wearing his clerical collar.

“We’ve been licensed foster parents almost ten years now. Somebody’s always coming or going through that door.”

He pointed to the mantel and to the wall collages where photographs of John and Naomi’s two adult children, Jonah and Dinah, and teenage daughter, Ruth, shared space with pictures of at least thirty other children.

“But not—” Pilar stopped herself before saying “my baby,” but just barely. “Not the baby I found.”

The minister’s dark brown eyes peered at her over the tops of his glasses before he smiled.

“You’re right. He is a rare one.”

Patting Pilar’s shoulder as he passed, he stopped at the side of the crib. “Now that’s a fine-looking fellow if I ever saw one.” With a wave he slipped into his study, leaving the door open a crack.

“Mom, do I get to hold the new baby before practice?” Sixteen-year-old Ruth Fraser chased her question into the room in a blur of bright copper hair and red-and-black pom-poms. When she noticed Pilar there, she gave the same electric smile she must have offered the judges for her competitive cheerleading competitions.

“Hey, Pilar. Did I hear you found Gabriel in a cabbage patch?”

Pilar grinned at the brown-eyed, freckled teen who shared her mother’s exuberance. “No, on a doorstep. He stayed a lot cleaner that way.”

As if he recognized he was center of discussion, Gabriel started grunting and wiggling in his blanket. His eyes popped open. Naomi bent to lift him from the crib and rested him against her shoulder. Ruth held out her arms, pom-poms dangling from her hands, but Naomi waved her off.

“You’ve got about ten minutes to pick up your room before practice. You’ll have plenty of time to hold him later, after prayer meeting.” Naomi winked at her daughter. “Since Gabriel’s going to be up all night, you can have the three o’clock shift.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.” She frowned and then grinned.

“Didn’t Dinah volunteer for the night shift?”

“Eeeee. Wrong answer. Your sister won’t even get off work at the grocery store until eleven, and she might get called to substitute teach in the morning.”

“She gets all the breaks.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Naomi said brightly.

“Now, are you going? Your room isn’t getting any cleaner while we’re chatting.”

Ruth tilted her head to the side. “Can I take the minivan?”

“If you remember to put gas in it this time,” Reverend Fraser called from the other room.

“I’ll try, Dad.”

“Don’t try. Succeed.” He closed the door, probably to finish his Sunday sermon.

“See you at church,” Ruth called as she jogged to the kitchen for the car keys. “Don’t forget to pick up Tori from play practice.”

“I won’t forget.” At Pilar’s questioning look, Naomi explained. “Victoria St. Claire. You’ve probably seen her one of these past few Sundays. She’s been here about a month. She’s fourteen and about as boy-crazy as Ruth.”

“Is that possible?” Pilar chuckled, having heard stories about Ruth’s antics before.

The laughter died in her throat the moment that Naomi lowered Gabriel into Pilar’s arms. Emotion lodged in her throat instead, heavy and full.

“Hey, little one, you remember Pilar, don’t you?” Naomi spoke in a singsongy voice as she brushed a finger down the baby’s forehead. “You two are old friends.”

Pilar’s heart squeezed as she cradled the sleep-warmed body. All day at work her thoughts had been like a game of keep-away, jumping from Gabriel to Zach to her upcoming surgery and back to Zach, but she couldn’t catch them and subdue them so she could get some work done.

The unsettled feeling she’d been battling, though, evaporated as soon as she inhaled Gabriel’s fresh baby scent. Holding him felt so natural, as if he belonged there, close enough to her heart to hear its calming rhythm. For several seconds, the baby simply stared up at her.

“He likes you,” Naomi observed. “We’ll probably have him here for a while, so feel free to visit him whenever you like. I’m sure he would enjoy some spoiling.”

Whenever she liked? “I’ll do that.”

The baby started wiggling and smacking his lips, so Pilar propped him against her shoulder and walked around the room. “Do you want me to give him a bottle?”

“Sure, just a minute. I’ll warm one up.”

As soon as Naomi disappeared into the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Naomi’s voice could be heard from the other room. “Ruth, could you—”

“I’ll get it,” Ruth called as she tromped down the stairs. Muffled voices filtered from the entry and then stopped.

“Bye, Mom and Dad.” The door closed again.

In the silence that filled the family room, Pilar focused on little Gabriel alone. “You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Dinner’s on the way. You don’t have to be cold here, or hungry or lonely. You’ll be happy here until we find you a new home.”

She stopped crooning to him just as Naomi came down the hall.

The veteran mom tested the formula’s temperature on the inside of her forearm as she approached. “Who was at the door?”

“Ruth never said. Must have been a salesman or something.” She reached for the bottle Naomi had been extending, but Naomi suddenly pulled back.

“Hi.” She spoke to someone over Pilar’s shoulder. “If I’d known there was going to be a party, I would have put on a pot of chili and some hot dogs.”

Pilar expected to hear laughter from the reverend or one of their children, since Naomi was a notoriously bad cook whose chili had a reputation all its own. But the sound that skittered up Pilar’s back and rolled over her shoulder in baritone richness hadn’t come from anyone living in the Fraser household.

“Don’t go to any trouble cooking on my account.”

Pilar whirled to find Zach leaning against the doorway, his arms folded and his ankles crossed as if he’d been there for a while. Her mouth went dry, and her cheeks burned. Just how long had he been watching? What had he overheard? And why had he been listening anyway?

“Just thought I’d drop by for a few minutes,” Zach said to Naomi, never taking his eyes off Pilar. His smile was slow and deliberate. He’d caught her, and they both knew it. So often Pilar had dreamed of having Zach stare at her, and now she only felt trapped by his study.

Handing the bottle to Pilar, Naomi marched over to Zach and gave him the hug treatment. Apparently, she’d missed whatever had passed between the other two adults.

“What were you doing sneaking in on us like that?” Naomi asked as she released him.

“I didn’t sneak. Ruth let me in,” he said, still looking at Naomi’s other guests.

Pilar popped the bottle between the baby’s lips, and he went to work on it, a good portion of the formula dripping down his chin. She didn’t want Zach to witness her inexperience in caring for a child, yet she sensed his gaze on her.

“We’ll have to work on our daughter’s manners,” Naomi was saying. “I’m surprised she didn’t stay to visit.”

Zach grinned. Ruth’s crush on him had hardly been a secret, and though he’d done nothing to encourage it, he’d always been kind to the teen.

“You didn’t say you’d be coming by.” Naomi had a strange expression on her face when Zach finally turned to face her.

“Oh, I was talking to the reverend earlier, and he told me the infant Doe has come to stay. I wanted to drop by to see how he’s getting along.”

“He’s doing great,” Pilar answered, finding her voice for the first time since seeing Zach.

“That’s good. I’ve got some solid leads. I’ve got a good feeling about this investigation. I’m going to find his mother.”

Zach glanced down at the baby for a few seconds before meeting Pilar’s gaze again. “It’s good to see you here, too. I wanted to ask you a few more questions.”

Naomi stepped forward then, reaching for the baby. Already he’d drunk down most of the four-ounce bottle.

“Here, let me take Gabriel up for a burp and a change. You two sit on the couch so Zach can ask his questions. When I get back down, I’ll let Zach hold Gabriel.” Wearing a Cheshire-cat smile, she didn’t wait for an answer before moving toward the stairs.

Pilar sat opposite Zach, pushing her back against the sofa arm. If only the piece of furniture could grow longer so she could move farther away from his intense stare. She could remember final exams in college where she’d been far less nervous than at this moment. Why did he keep staring at her as if she was a criminal?

She cleared her throat. “You said you want to ask me some questions.”

“I do.”

But he didn’t. He just continued to watch her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did you come to use strange interrogation tactics on me? Because I’ve already told you everything I know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

Annoyance filled her chest. And to think she’d once been very interested in this man! She’d liked him a lot better when he was a stranger. “Yes, everything.”

When he still didn’t say anything, Pilar had had enough. “If you’re not going to ask a question, then I am. What are you doing here, Zach?”

“I was wondering the same thing about you.”

“Well, I’m here to check on Gabriel. You heard me say earlier that I was going to visit the hospital. Well, the doctors discharged him. He was placed with the Frasers, and I just wanted to make sure he’s all right.”

Zach tucked his chin between his index finger and thumb, contemplating her answer. “Sounds reasonable. I already told you I was here to check on the baby, too.”

“Then are we done? Have you asked all your questions?”

He shook his head. “Just one more.”

She waited, bearing his scrutiny for a few seconds longer. Why did it feel as if all the walls she’d built to mask her heart’s secret longings were only transparent screens to him? That though they were nearly strangers, he knew her better than almost anyone.

“Tell me this. What’s the connection between you and that baby?”




Chapter Four


“What do you mean, what’s my connection?” Pilar asked, her eyes wide.

She was pressed so hard against the sofa arm that Zach wondered if she planned to escape over the top. He trapped her with his gaze in the way he’d learned to make lesser suspects squirm.

“That’s what I’m asking. You probably place babies all the time. Do you get this attached to all of them? Or is there something different about this baby?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he continued to stare. Strange, but he hoped for Pilar’s sake that she didn’t have that same intense connection with each child she placed, because he didn’t like the idea of her heart breaking all the time. But then he hadn’t done a good job of keeping his professional distance in this case, either.

He couldn’t say he’d been soft on questioning Pilar. In fact, he was grateful Naomi hadn’t held him under the same level of scrutiny when she’d asked why he’d visited that day. Sure he’d come to see Gabriel, but he was beginning to wonder if the possibility of seeing Pilar again had also played into his decision.

It had certainly been for her benefit that he’d talked up the investigation when he still didn’t know if any of his “solid leads” would pan out. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him that she thought he was a good detective. He’d never worried before what anyone thought as long as he was doing his best to help people. It was a good policy, and he would do well to stick to it instead of trying to impress anyone.

But this was about more than impressing. It was about curiosity, and everyone knew what that did to the cat. Pilar had become such a puzzle to him, full of challenging, interlocking pieces, when before he’d barely noticed her. Or at least when he had noticed, he’d taken in her flawless beauty and too-perfect background and had kept his distance.

“Gabriel’s different,” she answered finally.

“How is he different?”

Pilar blew out an exasperated breath. “I found him. He’s—”

She cut herself off then, but that only made Zach want to know more. Had she nearly said “mine”? That didn’t make any sense, though it did take finders-keepers to a whole new level. “He’s what?”

“He’s just a sweet little baby who could use all the friends he could get.”

He nodded. That was true enough, but if it was what she’d intended to say, then why hadn’t she looked at him when she’d said it? Her posture was stiff, and her closed body language signaled she wasn’t telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God. She was still hiding something.

Twice now he’d witnessed private moments between Pilar and the infant she should have met only that morning—first on the agency steps and now in the Frasers’ family room. There was a connection, all right, but what?

Could Pilar have been a friend of Gabriel’s biological mother and was covering for her? Zach pondered the premise that would have explained why she was reluctant to help with the investigation, but he couldn’t buy it. As a Tiny Blessings employee, she would have encouraged the mother to give the child up for adoption, or at the very least would have discouraged her from breaking the law.

His gut told him Pilar’s reasons were much more personal. That he could relate to. Everyone had a right to a few secrets—those personal parts that no one needed to know and that only reopened old wounds in the retelling. Did Pilar have wounds she needed to protect?

Immediately, he was contrite for the high-pressure interview tactic. Though Gabriel had more to complain about, Pilar had been through a rough day. He’d seen her that morning, had witnessed her shock and even had wrapped his jacket around her. The last thing she needed was some overzealous detective shoving her around for new leads.

“Is this the first time you’ve dealt with a child-abandonment case?” he asked, though he’d already guessed that it was.

She nodded. “I work with people who would give everything they have to have a child of their own. None of them would ever dump a baby, in a fancy basket or not.”

He’d been right: It was personal. How could he, of anyone, criticize someone who took her job and the people it affected personally? That would be like smashing the image of the person he saw in the mirror every morning.

“Do you have a long waiting list of people hoping to adopt?”

Pilar tilted her head to study him, appearing to recognize that his question had no bearing on the case.

“We have more homes than we have children to fill them. Especially for clients who want babies. The waiting list for a newborn is often three years deep.”

Zach couldn’t imagine what that was like, the bureaucracy and the waiting and hoping for a child that most couples assumed would be the natural next step in their relationships. Life had no guarantees; he’d learned that the hard way. Apparently, Pilar’s clients had swallowed their own bitter pills.

When he looked up again, Pilar was studying him.

“Are you finished asking questions?”

“Sure. For now.”

As finished as he could be given that she hadn’t really answered the important one. She’d never explained her connection to the foundling.

She nodded but didn’t look him in the eye. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I need to get going.”

Pushing herself over the arm of the sofa, she stood as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He was used to women’s attention, had even learned to ignore it most of the time, so he wondered why her pariah treatment bothered him so much.

Zach hesitated, which was about as unlike him as letting himself be distracted when he was on a case. He should have been telling her not to let the door slam when she left, but here he was hoping to keep her around a few minutes longer so he could prove he wasn’t a bad guy. How pitiful was that?

Naomi’s louder-than-necessary footsteps on the stairs saved him from a thorough self-lecture. He stood in time to see her reentering the room, carrying a clean and content baby.

“Pilar, you’re not leaving, are you? I thought you were staying so we could go to prayer meeting together.”

“I was, but…” Pilar paused and cleared her throat “…I’ve decided to meet you there.”

Naomi turned to Zach. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

“Not this time, sweetheart.”

Naomi stuck out her lip. “But even police detectives get time off for Wednesday night prayer meeting.”

“I’ll have plenty of time off when Gabriel’s mother has been located.” He looked at Pilar to let her know that the message was for her. No matter what she was hiding or how badly he felt for her for having made this difficult discovery, he still had a job to do. With or without her help, he was going to solve this case.

Pilar made a show of studying her watch, but he was pretty sure she’d received the message.

Naomi cleared her throat. “At least let me get you some dinner.” She turned back to Pilar. “You, too. It won’t take me a minute to whip up a big pot of chili.”

“That’s okay,” Zach and Pilar chorused and then shot glances at each other.

She was chewing her lower lip to keep from laughing, so he spoke for the both of them. “Thank you for the offer, but can we take a rain check?”

Naomi’s sly grin suggested she was as aware as anyone of her cooking weakness. “Okay, it’s a date. The kids will love having the both of you to dinner.”

Date? He started. Why did he feel as if he’d just been swindled? He opened his mouth to object and caught Pilar’s profile in his peripheral vision. Her mouth was open to say something, too.

Their minister’s wife stopped the both of them with a wave of her hand. “I’ll let you know when. I’ll see you out now.”

Only a few minutes later, he was buckling the seat belt of his sedan and wondering at how easily Naomi had dismissed them. It was probably for the best, he thought, as he watched Pilar climb into her red coupe. He needed to avoid distractions if he was going to solve this case, and Pilar had become one.

Even now his thoughts flicked to the scene between Pilar and Gabriel when she’d whispered promises that she would keep him safe. Strange how he could almost see a better world when looking at it through Pilar’s eyes. He saw hope, even though life had given him every reason to doubt.

He shook his head to dismiss the image now, as he had when he’d witnessed it. Some police detective he’d turned out to be. He’d been so entranced watching Pilar and her tiny charge that if Naomi hadn’t announced his presence, he might have gone right on watching without thinking once about the case.

Pilar was a distraction, all right, one that neither he nor the case could afford. He wished she would just tell him what she knew so he could steer clear of her until the investigation was complete. Even after that, if he had any sense.

No one who brought out such conflicting feelings in him could be good for his life—work or otherwise. Part of him wanted to lock her in a holding cell until she told him what he wanted to know. The other, more dangerous part of him wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.



Pilar peered into the oval window in the Starlight Diner’s front door before she pulled it open. Sure enough, Anne had already commandeered their usual booth and was sitting on one of its bright blue vinyl seats studying a menu she should have known by heart. In fact, the names Pilar Estes, Anne Smith, Meg Talbot Kierney and Rachel Noble all should have been engraved on the table’s Formica top as many years as they’d been coming to the Starlight for Sunday brunch.

“Hey, Pilar,” Anne called as her golden blond head came up and she set aside the menu. She would order her usual double bacon cheeseburger and fries when the waitress came anyway, and, as usual, she wouldn’t pack an ounce on her slender frame.

“Hi.” Pilar slid past the chrome counter, the upholstered bar stools and the black-and-white stills of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe, pausing only to salute a picture of James Dean from Giant before she reached the booth.

“Glad to see you didn’t forget to say hello to our Jimmy Dean,” Anne said, glancing past her friend to the glass front door. “You’re the first one here from the church crowd.” She said it with laughter in her voice that almost masked the hurt.

As she slid across the smooth vinyl that caught her skirt and twisted it, Pilar studied her friend. Sunday brunches had probably become strange for Anne these last few months. Before, she’d had Meg and Rachel to help her stake a claim on their regular table, with only Pilar arriving after church. Now Meg and her new husband, Jared, were members of Chestnut Grove, and Rachel had been attending services with her fiancé, Eli Cavanaugh, most often snuggling Rachel’s adopted baby sister, Gracie, between them.

Anne probably felt a little jealous over Meg and Rachel finding love. Thoughts like that even had crossed Pilar’s mind a time or two. But did Anne also feel resentful over their new church involvement? Did she wonder if she was missing something the rest of them had found?

“Good afternoon, ladies,” waitress Miranda Jones said as she carried a heavy food tray to a table at the opposite end of the diner. “Be right with you.”

“No rush. We’re still waiting.”

“I know,” Miranda said over her shoulder, the tight twist that held her dark brown hair bobbing with her nod. “Two more friends.”

Anne returned Pilar’s sad look when their gazes caught. They were still getting used to Miranda waiting on them, wearing a pink apron that matched Sandra Lange’s except for the missing script S at the shoulder.

Usually the diner owner made a point of waiting on “the Sunday four,” as she called them herself. Now their friend was battling breast cancer and had taken several weeks off while she underwent chemotherapy. Without closing her eyes, Pilar said another quick prayer for Sandra’s recovery.

“How’d you get here so fast, Miss Pilar?” Meg called as she pushed through the door, shoving her sunglasses into her curly red hair. “Did you sneak out before the youth minister’s benediction?”





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