Книга - After the Storm

After the Storm
Lenora Worth


In the beautiful North Georgia mountains, blue spruce reach up to heaven. A sense of healing and communion draws Alisha Emerson there.She hopes that her unborn child can grow up in the promising new world she's begun for them both in the village of Dover Mountain. Then her labor begins unexpectedly, and only with the help of a stranger–entrepreneur Jared Murdock–is her son delivered safely.But is Dover Mountain really the sylvan sanctuary of Alisha's daydreams? For although Alisha and Jared appreciate the love of God and neighbor that village life embodies, Dover Mountain incorporates darker elements, as well. Elements such as unwanted pregnancy, drug abuse, violence and blackmail. Together, Alisha and Jared must brave the storm and seek the rainbow that follows, in this captivating story of love, loss and faith regained.









Praise for

LENORA WORTH


“Talented new writer Lenora Worth combines heart-stealing character and a tragic secret to make this page turner worth every reader’s while.”

—Romantic Times on The Wedding Quilt

“Ms. Worth puts a most unique spin on the secret baby theme to make this wonderful love story positively shine.”

—Romantic Times on Logan’s Child

“…will warm the cockles of every reader’s heart.”

—Romantic Times on I’ll Be Home for Christmas

“Lenora Worth orchestrates…romance in her classical, emotionally rich style.”

—Romantic Times on Wedding at Wildwood

“Lenora Worth creates another gem—a great, easy, entertaining read for everyone, inspirational or not.”

—Romantic Times on His Brother’s Wife

“Lenora Worth’s One Golden Christmas is another jewel shining like the brightest star atop the Christmas tree.”

—Romantic Times on One Golden Christmas




After the Storm

Lenora Worth







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In Memory of Sandra Canfield

and Suzannah Davis.

I miss you both so much.




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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two




Chapter One


H e was lost.

Jared Murdock didn’t need a map to tell him that he’d been lost for a very long time. But sitting here on this steep, rain-drenched North Georgia mountain road brought it all tumbling toward him, like a mud slide unleashed.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain this hard,” he grumbled as he once again put his right foot on the gas pedal of the sleek black Escalade. Jared pressed firmly, but the big tires on the SUV kept right on spinning deeper and deeper into the mud hole in which he’d managed to get himself stuck.

“So much for four-wheel drive,” he said out loud, hitting his fist against the leather-encased steering wheel.

He knew he was close to the cabin his travel agent had rented for him on one of the foothills of Dover Mountain, but with the darkness and the storm, Jared couldn’t tell if he’d made the right turn or not. Apparently not.

It had been such a long time since he’d been here. At least twenty years. That had been the summer before Jared had headed off to the University of Georgia. He’d come here to hike and fish with his grandfather before football and studies took up all of his time.

And then there had been so little time to get together after that. Wishing now he’d taken the time, Jared stared out into the angry night.

Maybe he’d been lost ever since, Jared mused now as he watched the storm’s violent slashes of rain and wind descend over the ominous-looking woods and hills. The crash of thunder and lightning rumbled over the earth, shaking the windows of his vehicle.

Jared saw a flicker of dancing fire rushing out of the heavens, and then a tree deep in the forest split in half. “That one hit too close for comfort.”

There was only one thing left to do. He’d have to walk the short distance up the steep mountain road to the cabin. That would have to be better than sitting here in the rain and dark inside his vehicle, an easy target for a tree to land on. He’d find the cabin, get a roaring fire going, get some sleep, then come back for the Escalade in the morning.

Things always looked better in the morning. Wasn’t that what his grandmother used to say? “The light comes after the darkness, Jared,” she would tell him. Grandmother Murdock had passed away while Jared was in college.

And his grandfather had passed away a couple of months ago. The grief of that washed at him like the rain hitting his windshield, fast and furious.

Jared turned off the motor and got out to go around the SUV, water and mud sluicing against the treads of his hiking boots. The downpour would have him soaked to the bone in minutes, but he didn’t have much choice. Lifting the hood of his leather jacket, he opened the back door and got out his duffel bag. At least he’d dressed warmly and he had warm clothes to spare in the aged leather bag—if he could keep it dry. And there should be some food waiting in the cabin, according to the travel agent. At least coffee and soup, if nothing else.

Trying to remember what the woman had told him earlier, Jared searched the road and woods as he trudged up the ever-winding incline. It had been so long since he’d been here and the mountain refused to give him any clues.

Nor had the perky travel agent, who’d wondered over the phone why Jared wanted to stay at such a down-and-out tourist spot as Dover Mountain. “It used to be the place to go for a quiet retreat, but now it’s fallen on hard times. It’s awfully isolated there, Mr. Murdock. Certainly off the beaten path.”

“Just find me a cabin,” he’d growled into the phone.

She’d called back a few minutes later, her enthusiasm back in full force. “There are several to choose from. Some of them are privately owned now, but some of them are rentals. Yours is the second one on the left, back off the road.”

Or had she said the second one on the right?

Jared was too bone weary to remember what she’d said, or which cabin he’d always shared with his grandfather. But he hoped he’d guessed the right one when he’d tried to describe it to the confused agent. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. He’d been too frustrated earlier to care whether or not the woman found him the same cabin. He only knew that he wanted to come back to this spot, this mountain, maybe in honor and celebration of his grandfather, maybe out of a sense of duty and guilt.

Tired. He was so tired. And he’d only wanted to get away. Lately the events in his life had just about worn him to a frazzle. And besides, he did his best thinking when he was alone, with no distractions. The adventurer in him liked the solitude of climbing rock faces and hiking through dense woods. But tonight his soul was crying out for something more, for something he’d lost the day his grandfather had died.

Actually, he’d lost part of himself long before Grandfather Claude had died. Meredith had seen to that.

During the next month, Jared intended to think his way out of having to end a fifteen-year partnership with his friend Mack Purcell. Well, at least now he didn’t have to come up with a plan to save Murdock and Purcell Media Consultants; his ex-partner owned the company outright. Now Mack would have to decide what to do about expanding the company in a strained economy. Jared was out of the picture. Completely. Once he’d signed the final papers earlier today, selling out his shares to his partner, there had been no turning back. Jared should have felt relief, but instead he’d just felt drained and sick. Old and washed-out. Empty and betrayed.

We took too many risks, Jared thought now as the wind and rain whistled around his dark hair. And Mack had taken the one risk that had ended their friendship forever. Only, that risk had nothing to do with business. It had been strictly personal.

Nothing like a best friend stealing a fiancée right out from under a man’s nose to bring that man to a crashing midlife crisis.

“I’m too young for this,” Jared reasoned as he battled the cold wind and the even colder water hitting his face. Too young for a crisis, but too stupid to see what had been so clear and right in front of his eyes.

Well, he could see now. Or at least by the time he’d trailed all the hills and bluffs of Dover Mountain, he’d have it all figured out.

The cold air caused Jared’s eyes to tear up and his nose to turn red. It was a wet spring night, unusually cold for April. Not a good night to be out on a lonely mountain road. Instead of helping him get his mind off things, being here only brought home the problems he’d left behind in his fancy Atlanta penthouse and the memories he’d tried so hard to leave behind in his mind. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to the city. But he didn’t want to turn around. Jared’s failures were chasing him up this mountain as surely as the driving storm was chasing at the trees.

He turned to the right and saw a single light shining from a cabin up the lane.

Always leave a light burning.

His grandparents had taught Jared that. Always leave the door open for hope, they’d said. Jared had come back here in hopes of finding some of the faith and strength his grandparents had tried to instill in him. And maybe finally to face his own shortcomings. He wondered if he’d be able to conquer those shortcomings.

Or even to make it up this drenched mountain to that beckoning light.



She was in trouble.

Alisha Emerson held one hand to her protruding stomach as yet another pain shot through her with the ferocity of a lit fuse. With her other hand, Alisha held the wall as she struggled toward the bedroom. Could this be it? Was her baby coming? But it wasn’t time yet. The doctor and the midwife had both told her another two weeks.

In spite of the chilly Saturday night, sweat trickled down Alisha’s face. She could feel the cold sweat of fear and anticipation moving down her back. She wished that she’d had a phone installed six months ago when she’d moved here, but Alisha knew it was too late to do any second-guessing now. She had refused a phone because she wanted to save money, and she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want anyone to find her. Or call her. She’d been trying to protect herself and her unborn child. But now, she wished she’d thought ahead, just in case.

She’d thought she had everything planned out. Mrs. Wilkes had offered to let her oldest daughter, Geneva, come to stay with Alisha just before the baby came and even afterward. But Geneva wasn’t due back in Dover Mountain for another week. She lived in Fort Stewart with her new husband, but had planned on coming home to stay during the spring while he went away on temporary duty in Iraq. The girl had readily agreed to the job, since she could use the money Alisha had offered, and since it would help to ease her own loneliness, too.

Lonely.

Alisha had never felt so lonely in her life. With a groan, she made it to the bedroom where a single kerosene lamp burned on a small grapevine table. At least she had that one source of light, since the storm had knocked out the electricity. The next round of labor pains knocked her down on the bed. Alisha grabbed the baby-blue chenille bedspread that had belonged to her mother, her fingers digging against the worn, plush fabric. Even the pain brought her a small measure of comfort on this dark night, since she knew that meant she’d soon have her baby in her arms.

But she wanted that baby to be born safe and warm, without any problems. She needed help. She’d never make it up the mountain to the Wilkeses’ trailer with this terrible storm brewing outside. She probably couldn’t even make it to the next cabin up the hill. And if she did, she might not find anyone there anyway. Loretta Wilkes had told her a renter was coming to stay for a month or so. But Alisha wasn’t sure when the renter was due to arrive.

And besides, she didn’t like strangers.

“Lord, I need Your help now,” she whispered in a fevered prayer. “I need You, Lord. You brought me here, You protected my baby in the womb. Please protect this birth. Please, Lord, bless this birth. Send me somebody, Lord.”

Alisha’s prayer became a constant plea as she struggled through the first stages of labor. Her water hadn’t broken yet, so if she could hold on until morning, she might have a chance. She could at least go out on the road and wait for someone to come down the mountain then. The few commuters to Dalton and the other surrounding towns usually drove down the mountain around five each morning, but then with this storm…

Alisha let out a gasp as another realization hit her almost as hard as her labor pains. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.” No one would be coming down the mountain. They’d all be headed to church.

Tomorrow was Easter Sunday.

Telling herself not to worry, she realized this could just be false labor. She’d read about that. It was probably a false alarm, a welcoming warning of the real thing. No need to get all worried until things got worse.

Things got worse in the next hour. The pain in her stomach felt like a vise grip pressing on her center, her fear increased with each beat of her heart, and her back was hurting all over. She twisted to her side to relieve the pressure on her back, but the pain seemed to keep on coming.

Outside, the storm hit with the same intensity as the pains in her stomach. She could hear the wind moaning, could hear falling limbs crashing against the shingled roof of the tiny cabin. Thunder and lightning banged and hissed through the night, making her own pain seem more frantic and fast-paced.

Grimacing, she shifted so she could see the windup clock by the bed. Well after midnight, but still a long time until morning. Trying to stay calm, Alisha began timing her contractions. They were coming about every ten minutes and lasting about thirty seconds. From everything she’d read in her pregnancy books, this was all right for now. If she could just stand the pain. She didn’t think beyond what she would do if they started coming faster and lasting longer. She didn’t think beyond the timings.

“But I have to think,” she said to the silent, creaking cabin. “I have to be prepared. Didn’t I learn that lesson a long time ago?”

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Alisha managed to get up and gather some clean blankets and sheets and place them on the rocking chair by the bed. She held onto the wall by the window for a while, watching the driving rain just past the tiny porch. The woods and trees looked so angry and full of turmoil as water and wind covered them in a heavy whitewash. Alisha longed to go out into the rain, to be washed clean again. To be pure and fresh again. To find some beauty. Every now and again, the wind would pick up and the rain would blow past the window in a great huffing breath of swirls and water.

As she stood there, Alisha realized that she was utterly and completely alone. After a while, another contraction hit her. She held on to the wall, her gaze on the trees being tossed about out in the forest, her prayers trapped inside her throat as she worked against the increasing pain and fear. Then she went back to the bed and tried to rest.

A few minutes later, Alisha lay back as another contraction passed, her eyes focused on the driftwood-and-seashell cross hanging on the planked wall across from the bed. Her now-deceased mother had given her the beautiful cross when Alisha had gotten married over ten years earlier.

“Never forget who gives us strength, honey,” her diminutive mother had told her in a tear-strained voice.

Keep your eyes on the cross, Alisha told herself now. Don’t think about the bad stuff. Don’t think about him. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt your baby. Keep your eyes on the cross. God will not leave you comfortless.

But she had to wonder, would God help her tonight? Or would He bring about His own certain justice to make her pay for her sins?

“For my child, Lord,” she said into the night. “I’m asking for the sake of my child. He is little and innocent. Please, Lord, don’t punish my child.”

She must have drifted into a moment of sleep. She woke quickly, but lay still, breathing deeply, the pain subsided for now. When she got a bit of energy, she’d have to go to the kitchen and boil some water. And she’d need more towels and some sterilized scissors. She wasn’t sure how she was going to deliver this baby all by herself, but if her contractions got worse, she’d have to do the best she could. She felt thankful that she was in good physical shape from exercising and from walking up and down this mountain every day, come rain or shine. Besides, thousands of women had done the same, hadn’t they?

Frantically, she sat up and searched the small room for one of her baby books. Finding one on the aged dresser, she struggled to step across the space and grab it. She’d just have to follow the step-by-step instructions shown in the book and hope that everything went okay.

Keeping that thought in mind, she stood against the dresser, taking in her haggard appearance in the cracked mirror, then quickly threaded her long auburn hair into a haphazard braid and tied it with a ribbon she found in a drawer. Then she sat back against the bed, her fingers hurriedly turning pages to the spot that listed what to do if you have to give birth alone.

Another pain racked her body, causing Alisha to feel the need to find release. Dropping the book beside the bed, she gritted her teeth and groaned. She wanted to push, but was afraid she shouldn’t do that yet, so she lay back down on the bed and held to the wrinkled spread, trying to remember the breathing exercises she’d memorized from reading her pregnancy books over and over. She needed to pant so she wouldn’t bear down.

Even as she huffed and counted and tried to focus, Alisha felt a lone tear moving down her left cheek. It fell with a big, cold splotch onto the yellow-flowered flannel of her nightgown, just over her heart. It didn’t take long for other tears to follow. She could feel the wetness on her cheeks and neck, at first warm but soon turning icy cold against her hot skin.

“Mama, I’m so afraid,” she said, her eyes trying to focus on the cross through her tears. “Mama, I need you. I need someone to help me—”

Her plea ended in a scream as her water broke and a huge wave of nausea and panic hit her with all the force of the next contraction. Dazed, she glanced down to check for the color of the water. It was pink-tinged amniotic fluid, which meant her baby was getting ready to be born. But…how long would she be in labor? No one could answer that. No one was here to answer that.

She listened for answers, but only heard the hissing of the fire in the nearby den and the now-soft dance of the rain falling outside. That and her own labored breathing.

Alisha gripped the spread, then lifted a hand up to the old iron frame over her head. She was about to give birth, alone in a cabin on a mountainside, in the worst rainstorm they’d seen in these parts this spring.

“Dear God, what have I done?” Alisha asked into the muted light. “Why did I come back here?”



“Now, why did I come this way?” Jared wondered out loud as the wet wind hit him in the face and laughed around his freezing ears. It was bitter cold and icy. The rain wasn’t falling as heavily now, but the temperature was dropping by the minute. From the looks of the debris-strewn road, the wind that had just moved through had to have left some damage.

“Power outages,” Jared thought.

If he was back in Atlanta working, he’d probably be stuck at his downtown office for the duration of this torrential storm that was covering the whole northwestern part of Georgia. When trees started snapping and the roads became flooded, things didn’t go too smoothly in Atlanta. There were sure to be problems all along the many roads to and from the city. He felt sure a tornado had struck somewhere close. The forceful storm that had passed through here had been full of high winds.

Jared’s clients would need damage control, with both site evaluations and press releases assuring their customers that in spite of the dollar amount of damage from the fierce storm, it would be business as usual. But then, it had always been business as usual.

That had been his job after all, making sure that big companies always came out ahead. It was his job to make million-dollar corporations look good, look even better than they really were. It was his job to put a positive spin on any given situation, good or bad, just to keep above the competition. But he didn’t have a job and a company to go back to after this extended vacation, he reminded himself. He’d walked away, too angry and too bitter to keep fighting with his growing restlessness and his partner’s obvious betrayal.

“You figure it out,” he’d told Mack just before he walked out the door. “You got what you wanted. You got the company we built together. I’m done with it.”

And Mack got—no, make that took—something else, Jared thought, his bitterness as moving and liquid as this storm.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a killing,” Mack reminded him. “On both the company and this deal—selling out to me. Not to mention the hefty inheritance your grandfather left you.”

Jared heard the resentment in the other man’s voice. He wanted to remind Mack of what he’d received from this deal—the woman who’d planned on marrying Jared until things got too rough for her.

“Yes, I can finally travel around the world,” Jared retorted, “and you still get to clean up other people’s messes.”

While I run to the hills like the coward I’ve become.

Well, Mack was right about one thing. Jared had sold out, all right. He’d handed his ex-partner the keys to the kingdom, along with the woman who would be queen. Had Meredith really expected Jared to stay and fight?

No, Meredith should be happy now. Happy that she’d secured her future and that she’d be a society doll at last.

She should be happy, but after their parting words yesterday, Jared wondered if the woman he’d had a five-year relationship with would ever be truly happy.

“Mack gives me the things you never could,” she’d told Jared the night months ago she revealed she was in love with his partner instead of him. “He gives me security and love. We have a good future. He’s ready to make a commitment to me.”

Hadn’t Jared offered her all of that? Maybe not in words, but in deeds, at least? Obviously, he hadn’t made it plain to Meredith that he had her best intentions at heart, that he was committed to her.

“I can’t do this, Jared,” she told him, her blue eyes tearing up. “You can’t expect me to put our lives on hold, our wedding on hold, while you play nursemaid to your sick grandfather.” Then she’d pouted. “Mr. Murdock has plenty of money to hire nurses around-the-clock. Why do you feel you have to be there with him most of the time?”

“Because the man raised me,” Jared said, his voice hissing with pain and disbelief. “He’s given me his life, Meredith. Now it’s time for me to return the favor.”

But Meredith didn’t understand the connection, the concept of that kind of devotion. She thought Jared was being oversolicitous, overprotective of his aging grandfather. She also saw Jared’s wanting to wait as an excuse not to get married.

In his soul, Jared knew Meredith had been right. Mack could make her happy. Would make her happy. While Jared had mostly made her miserable.

“I’ve waited so many years, Jared. I’m tired of waiting.”

Stalking up the muddy dirt lane, Jared reached the little cedar-walled cabin. It looked quaint and idyllic, sitting there in the night, its slanted, shingled roof covered with pine needles, its little porch settled under the eaves with a soft smile of welcome. Two high-backed rocking chairs graced the small porch, one sitting on each side of the wide screened doorway. A stack of firewood lay underneath one of the wide, paned windows on one side, while on the other side, an old rickety swing rocked gently in the freezing wind.

Jared stepped up onto the porch, following the glare of the single light that had brought him here, then touched a knuckle to the wooden door behind the screen. Even if this wasn’t his cabin, maybe someone in there could direct him to it. Or at least invite him in out of the cold.



She was so cold. Alisha shivered on the small bed, her body weary as she stretched a hand toward the stack of blankets she’d dropped on the chair in the corner. Just as she reached out longingly to the soft warmth of a handmade quilt, an intense pain coursed up her spine, causing her to suck in her breath and cry out. She couldn’t reach the quilt. She needed it, needed the warmth she knew it could bring.

Alisha got up, bent over double, shivering and sweating at the same time now, but determined to get to her favorite quilt. The contractions were only three minutes apart. She could feel her lower body pushing and changing, could feel her baby dropping. Her mind was playing tricks on her now. She thought she heard a tapping at her door.

At first fear gripped her, every bit as intense and dangerous as the pain knifing through her stomach and legs. But then the fear was quickly replaced by hope. Someone had come to help her!

“Who is it?” she said, but the words were a weak whisper.

Did it matter who was at her door? Or was she just imagining that tapping noise? Was this her punishment then, to go mad while giving childbirth? To never know the sweet baby she’d dreamed about? To die alone here on this mountain, away from the city she’d once loved, away from her family and friends, without ever holding her little child in her arms?

“I won’t let that happen,” she said as she once again tried to reach for the flowered quilt. “I won’t—”

The pain became too much for her weary, frightened body. Alisha grasped air, just missing the stack of blankets and quilts in the padded rocker by the bed. Grasped and gasped, just as the knock at her door became louder. Then she felt her body falling, falling toward the hard, cold wood of the planked floor, felt the waves of pain ripping her apart as she tried to touch the fringed fibers of her mother’s quilt. The effort was too much. Her fingers brushed against the comfort she needed as her body turned treacherous and tried to break in two. Alisha accepted and gave in to the pain as she screamed out, a soft sorrow covering her as she fell into darkness.



Jared heard a scream coming from inside the cabin. Shocked into action, he hammered hard on the door. “Hello, is everything all right in there? Hello?”

He leaned in, listening. Then he heard another sound that brought a racing warning to his heart. A moan.

Someone was hurt.

Without thinking, he dropped his soaked duffel bag onto the porch and rammed his body full force against the sturdy door. He heard the splintering of wood as he fell through the door, his shoulder bruised and throbbing, then rolled over on the floor, his body briefly touching on a braided circular rug centered before the dying embers of the fireplace. He felt a gush of welcoming warmth before he jumped up and shouted out again.

“Hello? Where are you?”

“In…here.”

The reply was feminine and weak. Wondering if someone had broken in and left a victim, Jared rushed around the big, long room, noting in his confusion that the place was tidy and clean, with no signs of a struggle.

But that scream of pain still gripped at his system, so he forgot the formal tour as he raced toward the room down the hallway, just past a small bathroom.

The room with the single lamplight.

Jared stopped in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the muted light as he took in the bedroom. A small iron-framed bed, with the sheets and covers tossed back. A pile of blankets and quilts on a chair. A long, battered dresser lined with trinkets and books. A cross on the pine-paneled wall.

“You’re safe now,” he said into the still room. “You can come out.”

“Down…here.”

Jared moved around the bed toward the chair in the corner, his gaze taking in the dark shadows.

And then he saw her.

A woman with long red hair, lying in a heap on the floor, her hand reaching up toward the rocking chair.

Bending down, Jared pulled her head around. “Are you all right?”

She tried to open her eyes, tried to speak, but in the next instant she gritted her teeth in pain and clutched a hand toward her stomach.

Her rounded, very pregnant stomach.

“What—”

“Help me, please,” she whispered through pale lips, her eyes wide with fear and pain. “Help me, mister. I’m…having a baby.”




Chapter Two


J ared immediately lifted the woman up, then gently sat her down on the bed. Even heavy with pregnancy, she didn’t seem to weigh very much. She looked petite and fragile. Her hair had come partially loose from her braid and it fell in gentle reddish-gold waves and ringlets around her heart-shaped, freckled-nosed face and down her shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re in labor?” he asked as he grabbed the covers and pulled them up over her body. Before she could answer, he saw the wet, stained sheets, his gaze moving from the bed to her face again.

“I’m very much in labor,” she said, fear making the words a mere whisper. “And so glad you came along.” Then she gave him a weak smile. “You’re soaked to the bone. Go by the…fire.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jared replied as he ran a hand through his drenched hair to get it off his face.

“Cold out there,” she whispered, a visible shiver going through her body. “A cold Easter.”

“What can I do?” Jared asked, looking around for a phone while he dripped puddles of water on the plank floor. “Have you called anyone?”

“No phone,” she said as she gripped the covers, her eyes going wide.

She had green eyes, Jared saw. And right now they were filled with fear and concern.

“You don’t have a telephone?” He hadn’t meant the words to sound so harsh, but who in this day and age didn’t have a telephone, even on a remote mountain?

“I never needed one before,” she replied with a bit of defensive fire. “The baby’s coming early. We have to go to plan B.”

Jared let out a sigh then took off his wet jacket, dropping it on a thick rug at the foot of the bed. “What was plan A?”

“Dr. Sloane and a midwife—Miss Mozelle—to assist.”

“And where is Dr. Sloane? Where is the midwife?”

Grimacing, she grabbed the bed railing, her next words coming out in a gasp of pain. “Up the mountain. Can’t make it.”

“I have a cell phone,” he said, grabbing at the inside of the jacket he’d just dropped on the floor.

“No good. The reception here is terrible, even on a good clear day.”

Jared had to try anyway. Frantically he tried dialing 911 on the fancy silver gadget—several times. He got only a weak signal message, then the phone blinked out of commission completely. With this storm, even if there was a tower close by, it probably wouldn’t be very receptive anyway. Tucking the useless phone back into the hidden pocket, he said, “Okay, then what’s plan B?”

“You and I get to do it. And I’m making up the rest as I…go.”

She collapsed into another contraction while Jared watched helplessly, grimacing at the intensity of her pain. What now? He didn’t think he was ready for plan B.

Jared decided he’d ask questions later. And he had a lot of questions. Right now, this woman was going into labor and she needed his help.

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Ever lived on a farm?”

“No. I grew up in Atlanta.”

“Atlanta?” Her eyes grew wide again, and seemed even more green. Warily, she stared at him with a wild, anxious expression. “Where…what part of Atlanta?”

“North of the city. Buckhead.”

That seemed to satisfy her, even though she still looked almost afraid of him. Her eyes darted across the room, then back to his face, questioning and unsure.

“Look, you’re going to be fine,” Jared said, thinking she was probably worried about a stranger helping to deliver her baby. “I’ve never done this before with any animals or humans, but surely between the two of us, we can manage to bring your baby into the world.”

“I hope so,” she said, forcing a weak smile. “He must be ready to get going.” She grimaced, her gaze searching his face. “Do you have children?”

“No. I’m…not married.”

She stared up at him, as if measuring his credentials. “Why not?”

Jared shrugged, thinking that was a very good question. He could see Meredith’s tear-streaked face, could still hear her weak excuses. “Just never worked out that way. I’ve come close a couple of times, but—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she replied, her eyes widening with pain. “At least not right now.”

“Okay, then. How are you right now?”

“Not so hot. Waiting for the next wave.”

“You mean, a contraction?”

She nodded. “Book, down on the floor.”

Jared followed the direction of her finger. Moving around the bed, he glanced down and saw a big, dog-eared paperback book lying open-faced by the bed. He reached to pick it up, amazed by the title. “A how-to book, huh?”

“Yes. Find the page about giving birth at home.”

Jared stared sharp-eyed at the woman, then started searching the pages of the book. He was usually pretty good with directions, but…this? Delivering a baby? Suddenly, he realized the magnitude of the situation. What if he did something wrong, something to harm her or the baby?

“Are you sure we can’t get you to a hospital?” he asked. “My car’s stalled out in a big mud hole, but if you have one—”

“I don’t have a car.”

No phone. No car. This woman definitely lived the old-fashioned way.

“Do you think you could hold on until I try to get my SUV out of the bog?”

“No,” she said in a loud moan of pain. “No. This baby is coming now. Right now. Even if you got your car going, we’d never make it down the mountain to a hospital—the roads are probably washed out. I don’t think I could even make it the half mile to the doc’s clinic in the village. Now, are you going to argue with me or are you going to help me?”

Jared didn’t know how to answer that. He knew he’d have to assist her, but there must be a better way.

“Look, mister,” the woman said after the contraction had stopped, “all night long I’ve been praying for God to send me somebody. And now that you’re here, I don’t have time for you to decide if you’re up to the task. I need you to boil some water and get a pair of scissors out of the drawer by the sink in the kitchen. Then I need you to prop my bottom up with those sheets in that chair. Then I need you to—”

She stopped, mortification covering her face in a soft blush. “You’ll have to look in that closet by the rocking chair. There’s a piece of netting in there I was saving to put over the baby’s bassinet, to protect against bugs. You can place that over my…my…private parts.”

Jared had to smile at that endearing euphemism. “You want me to help you give birth through netting?”

“For modesty’s sake,” she said, her tone reasonable and defiant all at the same time. “I don’t know you, after all.”

“I’m Jared,” he said, enamored by her need to use discretion. Under the circumstances, he didn’t see how it could matter, but his grandmother had taught him to be a gentleman and so he’d abide by this woman’s wishes. “Jared Murdock,” he added. “I’ll try to keep my eyes closed until the big moment.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She leaned back, her face filled with weariness and strain. “I’m…Alisha Emerson.” Then she waited, as if expecting him to say or do something.

Jared thought he saw that trace of fear back in her eyes. Hoping to ease her worries, he said, “Nice to meet you, Alisha, although I must admit I never dreamed—”

She relaxed, a great sigh of relief seeming to wash over her body as she lay back and closed her eyes. “It’s about to start again. I have to do my breathing and concentrate. Soon I’m going to have to push. You’d better get those things we need.”

Before Jared could turn and do her bidding she let out a wail and sat up, huffing and holding her stomach. Jared rushed to the side of the bed. “Are you—”

She waved him away without a word, her pretty face contorted in agony. Jared watched her for a minute, noticing that she was focused on the cross hanging on the opposite wall from the bed. She’d said she’d prayed for God to send her someone to help her.

“Did it have to be me?” Jared asked the heavens as he went about finding a kettle to boil water. After fumbling with lighting the ancient stove, he continued to ponder that question. Alisha Emerson was obviously a woman who believed God actually sent people to help other people in need. Jared couldn’t wrap his practical, logical brain around that concept, but then nothing about this night was logical or practical. He’d booked this trip on impulse and anger, emotions he tried to avoid, hoping to find something familiar and comforting in these old woods, but he had taken a wrong turn and found the wrong cabin.

Or maybe the right one, he thought as he set the kettle to boil then hurried back to the bedroom and Alisha.



He didn’t seem to know her.

Alisha fell back as the contraction passed, thankful that the handsome stranger from Atlanta hadn’t recognized her name. She’d been so afraid, but this fear had nothing to do with having a stranger in her cabin. It had everything to do with wanting to keep the world at bay, though. Especially the world she’d left behind.

But she had lived on the other side of town, south of Atlanta, in Riverdale. People from Buckhead rarely kept up with the happenings south of Hartsfield International Airport.

But what if he did remember her? What if he’d read something in the papers? Connected on the name? There had been a couple of short, terse articles in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution just a few months ago. After that, things had died down. And she’d left the city for good.

It didn’t matter now. She had to take her chances. She needed this man’s help and he seemed willing to do what he could. At least, she wouldn’t have to go through this alone. Her baby had a better chance now. Believing God would show her the way, Alisha said a prayer of thanks, then hoped she wouldn’t regret letting Jared Murdock help her deliver this baby.

He came barreling back into the bedroom, dropping the scissors on a rag he’d brought from the kitchen. Carefully, he placed both on the table by the bed before he went to the closet. “The water is hot. I put it on low to let it keep boiling. Now where did you say that netting is?”

She pointed toward the small add-on closet. “Up on the top shelf.”

Alisha took the minutes between contractions to study her birthing partner. Tall, rugged, muscular. He had been wearing a nice black leather jacket, but it was gone now. His light-blue sweater, damp in spots from the rain, looked to be cashmere. His hair, still wet and glistening, was almost as dark as the jacket he’d had on. And so were his eyes. They reminded her of jagged coal waiting to become diamond chips. He was a big man with a nice smile. And he looked expensive.

Buckhead meant he came from money. Probably old money. That gave her some sense of peace. Jared Murdock probably didn’t travel in the same circles as the people she’d left behind. The people who couldn’t know where she was now.

“Got it,” he said, tugging out the gauzy white fabric. “Want me to drape it over…you?”

“Please,” Alisha said, clutching her stomach again. “You need to get yourself dry, too.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll dry out by the fire later. Let’s just take care of you right now.”

Alisha nodded her thanks, then grabbed the blanket as another wave of pain centered in her stomach.

Jared hurriedly helped her lift her hips so he could push a couple of cushiony blankets underneath her, then with his eyes on her face, he gently placed the sheer net material over her exposed legs. “I guess I can deliver this baby by touch,” he teased.

“I don’t care how you do it,” Alisha replied, her back locked in a spasm as she gritted out the words. “Just so it gets done.”

“Okay, I’m think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Alisha nodded, then took a long breath. “Good, ’cause here comes another one. We’d better get me ready—we’ve got extra sheets, the gauze over my legs and waist. What else? Did you sterilize the scissors?”

“Yes, and wrapped them in a clean ironed rag.” He shrugged. “I read that in the book. It said to iron a rag to help sterilize it. Found the iron on a corner shelf, right by the clean dish towels. Since we had no power, I heated the iron on the gas stove.”

“You’re doing good for a beginner.”

“So are you.” Then he glanced down at her. “I mean, this is your first child, right?”

She nodded, huffed, concentrated on trying not to push as painful memories tore through her with the same consistency of the pain in her center. “Yes, my first.”

“What about…where’s your husband?”

She stilled. “He’s…dead.”

His reaction was pure polite shock. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must be tough.”

She swallowed, closed her eyes to the truth. “It happened a while back, right after I found out I was pregnant.” Eight months ago, to be exact.

“Any other relatives nearby?”

“No.” She wanted to tell him she had no one but herself and the baby she had to protect, and that she didn’t need anyone either, by the way, but she didn’t say that. Instead she closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop racing.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he said, obviously sensing her agitation and probably mistaking it for grief. Well, she was grieving. For so many reasons.

“Thank you,” she managed through a groan. Then to distract herself from the sharp cut of clawing memories, she said, “Music. Could you put a cassette in the player? It’s over by the window.”

She watched as Jared turned and spotted the pile of old cassettes she kept in a wicker basket by a bigger basket of books. “I guess you don’t buy CDs, huh?” he asked over his shoulder. “Just lots of books and old cassettes.”

“No, can’t afford CDs.” She struggled to talk. “Bought those secondhand in the village. Player’s secondhand, too.”

He gave her another questioning stare, as if he couldn’t quite figure her out, then said, “What would you like to hear?”

“Harps.”

“Harps?”

“There’s a mountain music one in there somewhere. Harps and fiddles, guitars and mandolins. Soothing—”

Pain caused that word to come out in a scream.

“Okay,” Jared said, spinning into action. “Breathe through it while I put on those harps.”

Groaning, Alisha reached out a hand toward him. “I don’t think I can breathe through this. I…can feel the head—”

“Oh, oh, okay.” Jared turned as soft music filled the room. “Hang on, now. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Even in her fit of pain and trying not to push, Alisha had to smile. The man looked positively terrified.

But then, so was she.



It had all been over in a matter of minutes.

Jared stood at the kitchen window, looking out into the sloping woods behind the tiny cabin. The Easter dawn glistened through the trees and shrubs, the sun’s first tentative rays giving the drenched forest an ethereal, mist-filled glow. The storm had passed, but it had left a soggy, whitewashed stillness that was only interrupted by the sound now and then of ancient tree limbs hitting against the cabin walls in a gust of defiant wind.

There was a pretty garden in the backyard, complete with an aged wooden bird feeder shaped like a tiny house, and a squirrel feeder made so a corncob could be placed where the squirrels were sure to find it. A couple of cardinals dug through the soggy feed, strewing it on the ground below. A wooden picnic table and two sturdy chairs sat near an ancient oak tree. Delicate crushed blossoms from flowering plants lay about on the table and chairs and ground. Everything was covered with a fine sheen of water. It was as if the whole world was frozen in a lake of flower blossoms and trees.

The coffee he’d set to brewing earlier smelled fresh and enticing, causing Jared to turn from the window. It would probably be strong, but he really needed a cup. He wasn’t surprised to find his hands shaking as he tried to pour from the aged percolator. He’d just witnessed something he couldn’t explain.

And on Easter morning at that.

He’d witnessed the birth of a child. A tiny little baby. A boy.

“One more push,” he remembered telling Alisha after the baby’s head began to crown and it was safe for her to finally give in to the urge. “You’re doing great. And don’t worry, I’ve got the baby. I’ve got the head in my hands.”

Jared grinned, still amazed at how tiny that little head had been. So tiny and so soft, with reddish-brown tufts of wet hair.

And then after all the huffing and puffing and pushing, out came the whole baby. Jared stood there, his eyes wide as he stared up at Alisha, a grin splitting his face. “It’s a boy.”

She cried, of course. With joy. With relief. Then she instructed him on how to open the baby’s nasal passages. At first, Jared panicked. Weren’t newborns supposed to cry?

“Keep rubbing on him,” she gently ordered, the trace of concern in her voice making the words shrill. Then because he could tell she was about to panic, Jared handed the naked baby to her. Alisha cooed and cried and even blew on the baby’s little nose.

And that’s when he’d heard the first soft wail.

It was the sound of a tiny miracle.

“He’s okay, I think,” Alisha shouted, tears rolling down her face.

Quickly, Jared cut the cord and wrapped the baby in fresh clean blankets to hand up to his mother. After delivering the placenta, he helped Alisha get herself and the bedding cleaned up—she insisted he turn away while she struggled with a clean gown and underclothing. Then he let her hold the little boy for a while before she suggested he give the baby a quick bath, too.

That had been over two hours ago.

Since then, he’d had time to get to know this tiny cabin full of books and knickknacks. The books ranged from the classics to a stack of romance novels. There were also some textbooks scattered here and there, mostly to do with physiology and social work. The knickknacks ranged from antique dishes to dime-store finds.

Her home, just like the woman, was a paradox to Jared. How could she live here with no phone and no transportation, and yet seem so well-educated and worldly?

Jared drained his coffee and went for more, too weary to figure out Alisha Emerson, but too keyed up to sleep or eat.

Deciding he’d better check on mother and child, he took his cup of coffee into the bedroom. Standing just inside the wide door, he smiled at the sight of Alisha sleeping peacefully. Then Jared walked to the white wicker bassinet over by the bed and peeked inside.

The baby slept wrapped in swaddled blankets. The baby he had delivered, and bathed and held.

Jared held out one of his hands and looked at the size of it, marveling that he’d held that little head inside it just hours before. Bringing a child into the world truly was a miraculous thing. Being a part of that, being a witness to that, had left Jared shaken and changed. He couldn’t put his finger on the change inside him. He just knew it was there.

Not one to put too much store in religion, Jared thought about Mother’s Day. It was only a few weeks away. That, and this Easter morning, made him think of his deceased parents. They’d died in a plane crash when Jared was a small boy. He’d lived with his grandparents after that, in the big, rambling mansion in Buckhead. Mother’s Day had always been hard for him. He couldn’t remember his mother, nor his father, for that matter.

He thought about Christmas, too. Maybe because Grandmother Fancy Murdock had always insisted on telling him those particular Bible stories when he was growing up. He’d heard the story from the book of Luke about the birth of Jesus, of course. But not until this night had Jared ever considered how that story could affect his own life. This morning, he stood reliving the whole Easter story, and remembered how Christ had suffered and died on a cross, then had risen on the third day.

Was that what humans had to do? Did they suffer, then rise triumphant over their adversities? Over their sins?

Jared closed his eyes, wonder coursing through his system. Then he opened his eyes to the bright sunshine washing over the hills and trees. The first green buds of spring were sprinkled throughout the woods like confetti. What a glorious morning to witness the birth of a child! It was the calm after the storm. Everything was glowing and glistening in the fresh, dewy morning light.

“Thank you,” he said to whoever might be listening up there.

He’d never had time to turn to a higher source for inspiration or guidance. Coming from an uppercrust, well-respected family, Jared had always hurried through life. His grandparents believed, but Jared hadn’t followed through with that tradition on a regular basis. He’d been too busy keeping up with all his social and business obligations. And he’d always had the best, from prep school to an expensive college education. Jared had been handed everything life had to offer. He’d accepted all of it with an inbred arrogance that made him think he deserved it.

Maybe there was something to be said for being overly educated and overly rich. And overly cynical. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything, after all.

“No tests or trial by fire for me, Lord,” he whispered as he glanced down at the sleeping baby. At least not until now.

Was this his test, then? Was all the turmoil that had brought him here just the beginning of some sort of faith journey for Jared? He had to wonder. And he had to have answers, concrete answers. Yet as he stared down at this little baby and remembered Alisha’s screams of agony, followed by her tears of joy, Jared finally understood that some things didn’t require an answer. Some things just…were. Some things had to be accepted without question. Life. Death. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Renewal.

But…he always had questions.

“You did a fine job.”

Hearing Alisha’s soft Southern-tinged words, Jared turned from the baby to her, his breath hitching inside his chest. “So did you.”

She smiled as she snuggled underneath the now-clean bedding. “He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?”

Jared nodded, thinking, And so is his mother, then sank down in the chair he’d pulled to the bed during all the earlier commotion. “He certainly is. And he seems in good shape, all things considered.”

“Yes. As soon as we can, though, we have to get the doctor here.”

“Of course. Or I’ll take both of you to the nearest hospital myself. That is, if you’re feeling up to the trip.”

“Need to rest some more, I think,” she said with a sleepy yawn. “So tired. Just need to see Dr. Sloane.”

“No wonder you’re tired. You worked very hard.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you. You…will always hold a special place in my heart. And in his.” She waved a hand toward the baby. “What’s your middle name?”

Surprised, he said, “Callum. Jared Callum Murdock. There’s a lot of Irish and Scottish blood on my father’s side of the family.”

“Callum,” she said. “Then that’s what we’ll call him. Callum Andrew Emerson. Andrew was my father’s name.”

Jared watched as she drifted back to sleep, her words echoing in his mind like the music of the mandolins and fiddles she had listened to during her labor. She was going to name her son after him. That brought him comfort and made him feel proud.

He hadn’t felt proud, really proud, for a very long time now. And in spite of the awesome events that had transpired since he’d first arrived at this cabin, Jared knew that sooner or later he was going to have to go back to Atlanta and accept everything he’d left behind, so he could start fresh.

Soon. But not just yet. He wanted to sit here a while longer and watch Alisha sleep. He wanted to keep an eye on the little tyke nestled inside the old bassinet. Just for a few more precious minutes, Jared wanted to experience the peace of this beautiful spring morning.

He could ignore the fallen tree limbs in the nearby woods and his vehicle stuck out on the narrow, rutted road. He could ignore the piercing chill of this last snap of cold before spring was officially here. He could ignore the pounding pressure of guilt and worry inside his own head. But he couldn’t ignore the soft breathing of this beautiful and brave woman, nor could he ignore the sweet heartbeat of the infant sleeping right next to her.

But mostly, he couldn’t ignore the questions. He wanted to know all about Alisha Emerson. And he especially wanted to know what had brought her here to Dover Mountain.




Chapter Three


H e heard the screams in his sleep.

Jared opened his eyes, disorientation making him wonder where he was for just a minute. Then he saw the woman in the bed and remembered what had happened here last night. He’d helped Alisha Emerson give birth to a little boy.

Alisha was having a nightmare. She moaned and cried out again. “No, no. My baby—no!”

Jumping up out of the chair where he’d been drifting in and out of sleep, Jared grabbed her arm, gently shaking her. “Alisha! Alisha, wake up!”

Her eyes flew open while her arms went up in defense. “No—” She stopped, looking around the room with wild eyes before her gaze came back to him. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Where’s Callum?”

“He’s right here, in his bed,” Jared said, his hand still on her arm. His gaze held hers and he saw the alarm in her eyes. A fine sheen of cold sweat covered her face. She was shaking; he could feel it through the heavy flannel of her flowered nightgown. Wanting to reassure her, he said, “Your baby is fine, just fine.”

Alisha fell back against the pillows then closed her eyes again. “I was having a bad dream. They were…trying to take Callum from me.”

“Who?” Jared asked, concerned as he saw the flush of anxiety moving across her face. “Who was trying to take him?”

She shook her head. “Just some people, in the dream. It wasn’t real. Thank goodness it wasn’t real.”

Jared touched a hand to her forehead. “You feel warm. You might have a fever.”

“No, I’m just—it was the dream.” She shrugged, fluffed her long hair, then fell back against the pillow. “I guess all new mothers feel this way, right?”

“Considering your long night of labor, here alone until I came, it’s understandable you’d have nightmares.”

He watched as she held her eyes shut, as if she were trying to block out what she’d just seen inside her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Finally, she opened her eyes. They were a clear, vivid green now, devoid of any fear or apprehension. “I’m hungry.”

“Of course, you’d be hungry,” he said, relaxing a little. “I’ll make you some soup.”

“Not too spicy,” she said in a raw whisper. “I’m breast-feeding.”

“Right.” He nodded, grinned. “I read in the baby book all about colic and late-night crying bouts. And that’s just the baby.”

She managed a weak smile. “Very funny.”

“That’s better,” Jared told her, hoping to keep her cheered up. He’d also read about postpartum blues in the book. Maybe that was why Alisha had had such a vivid nightmare. New mothers were as protective as she-cats, he imagined. And no wonder, after all the hormonal changes and the nurturing feelings pregnancy brought out. Who knew women went through so much to have children? He’d gained a healthy respect for motherhood just from reading the how-to book. And felt a pang of regret that he’d never found the right woman to spend his life with, to make a family with. He’d come close with Meredith, but somehow Jared couldn’t picture sophisticated, worldly Meredith Reynolds as a mother.

Hearing a little whimper from the bassinet, Jared forgot his own regrets and grinned again. “I think Callum might be hungry, too.”

“Oh, hand him to me.” Alisha struggled to a sitting position. “He probably needs changing. There’s some disposable newborn diapers in the closet. A gift from one of the villagers. I plan on using cloth diapers, but those will do for now.”

“Those will come in handy.” Jared reached into the bassinet and carefully lifted the tiny baby out. “Hello there, little fellow. Want to see your mommy?”

Callum smacked his little lips and proceeded to wail even louder.

“I take that as a yes,” Jared said as he brought the baby over to Alisha. “Here you go.” After he’d made sure she had a good grip and was safely settled in, he found the diapers and some wet wipes in the closet and brought both to the bed. “I’ll go find you something to eat, so you can have some privacy. Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Alisha said, her gaze on her baby. “And Jared?”

He turned at the door, the sight of mother and child taking his breath away. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, his throat locked up with some emotion he couldn’t identify. It felt both unfamiliar and painful all at the same time. “I’ll go get that soup started.”



Alisha couldn’t stop staring at her baby. He was so pretty, so perfect, so beautiful. A fierce, all-consuming need to love and protect him coursed through her tired body, giving her a new determination and a new surge of energy. That’s why she’d requested some food, even though she wasn’t sure if she could actually eat. She had to be strong for her baby. And that meant taking care of herself. Her nightmare had brought that back full force.

“Mommy is going to take good care of you, too,” she said as she moved a hand over his little arm down to his fingers. The tiny fingers sprang to life at her touch, automatically reaching out to grasp the warmth of her hand. “I love you,” she told the baby. “I know you can’t understand that concept right now, but I love you so very much. Everything I did, everything I had to do, was for you.” She watched his face, seeing shades of his father’s image in the shape of his tiny jaw, in the slant of his eyes. That image brought her both pain and longing. “Things will be different for us, Callum. I promise.”

Things had to be different for them now. They were safe and protected here on Dover Mountain. Secure and isolated, just the way she wanted it. She wouldn’t let dark dreams or unnecessary fears worry her now.

But what about Jared Murdock? a voice in her head shouted. He knows you now. He knows you and Callum.

I have to trust him, Alisha thought, clinging to that one hope. But she needed to be careful, very careful. She was so thankful that Jared had shown up and helped her with this birth. Thankful but wary. Wary, but when she thought about what could have happened if he hadn’t been here last night, Alisha couldn’t help but be grateful.

God had sent Jared for a reason. Alisha didn’t want to question that, but worry and fear pushed at her resolve to be grateful and accept the gift of Jared’s help.

“He won’t be here long,” she whispered in Callum’s ear. “He’ll be long gone soon and he’ll forget all about us, won’t he, little boy?”

Then we can get on with our life together, at last.



Jared would never forget the sight of Alisha holding her baby. As he watched the chicken noodle soup he’d found in an overhead cabinet coming to a boil, he accepted and recognized the foreign feelings that had clogged his throat and left him unable to speak.

Those feelings were regret and loneliness. He regretted that he didn’t have a family to love. He longed for something, someone to make this sorrow in his soul go away. A sorrow he’d only just realized existed underneath his quiet, determined work ethics. A sorrow that had only magnified after his beloved grandfather’s death and Meredith’s betrayal.

All this time, he’d thought he was doing the right thing, working hard day and night. He’d had relationships with women, but they’d been shallow and one-sided, mostly for companionship and show. The last one had ended badly, very badly. He’d almost married Meredith, though. He could have settled down with her, even if he wasn’t so sure he really loved her. But Meredith hadn’t loved him enough and she’d told him that, along with a few other revelations. Jared was still reeling from those revelations and from his partner’s betrayal. Maybe that was why he was feeling so…confused.

Up until this moment, Jared had never needed anything long-term and lasting. He’d always had his work, and he’d had his quiet time with his grandfather. In his mind, he’d pictured a marriage with the woman he thought he was compatible with, but there was no hurry, no urgency. Now even that hope was gone.

Why now, Lord?

Why did he have to wish for things he’d never needed before when his whole world was falling apart around him?

Maybe because his whole world was falling apart? Maybe because he had nothing left to lose, even though he could quite possibly lose so much?

“If I don’t have my work, I have nothing,” he said out loud. Nothing. It was a somber, sobering realization. Nothing but a big pile of old money and even older properties, and a big house that he rarely stayed in since he had a penthouse in the city, things left to him by his wealthy grandfather.

Things. A legacy that he should be proud of. A legacy that had helped him start his own business right out of college. And now, even when that business that he was no longer a part of was being threatened by his partner’s reckless decisions, Jared knew he’d bounce back. He’d walked away from the partnership a very rich man, in spite of Mack’s bold, risky ventures. But selling out hadn’t been about the money. It had been about his pride, plain and simple. Jared had old money to fall back on. But that was all he had now.

He’d told himself getting out while he was ahead was a good thing. He’d be free from the yoke of constant worry, the yoke of having to be responsible for so many people and things. And after the final fight with Mack, after the full betrayal had been disclosed, Jared had wanted nothing more than just to escape.

But now, now he could see so much more clearly. He wanted that sweet picture he’d seen in the bedroom. Mother and child. He didn’t just want to deliver a baby. He wanted to be a father.

The soup hissed and sizzled as it boiled over on the stove. Jared grabbed a potholder and moved the pot away from the flame of the gas burner. The piping-hot soup brought him back to reality. He had to figure out how to get past the last few months of uncertainty and anger, and he had to decide what he was going to do now that he no longer had a company to run. That’s what Jared needed to concentrate on now.

Not some silly notion of a family.

He looked at the windup clock over the stove. Almost ten. Maybe the roads were beginning to dry out a bit. He could go get the doctor at least. It would be good to get out in the crisp, clean mountain air and clear his head.

And his heart.



“The soup was great,” Alisha said later as she shifted on the bed. “I think I should get up and walk around a bit now.”

“I’ll help you,” Jared replied as he hurried across the room. “Do you need to go—”

“Not yet.” She blushed, but managed a smile. “Isn’t it funny, about you and me?”

“Oh, how so?”

Not knowing how to approach the matter, she said, “Well, we’ve been as intimate in some ways as two people can be, and yet, you’re still a stranger to me. Help me up, and then you can tell me all about yourself.”

He nodded. “Okay, but only if you do the same for me.”

Alisha realized her mistake the minute she saw the eager gaze in his dark eyes. She couldn’t tell him about herself. That would be asking for trouble. But even without knowing everything there was to know about Jared Murdock, she knew this one thing. He would want to know. Everything. And she couldn’t tell him anything.

She’d just have to steer the conversation and questions back to him.

Jared pulled back the covers and gave her an arm. “Should I carry you?”

“No, the book—”

“I know, I know. The book says to walk around. But if you’re not able to do that, I can carry you.”

She laughed as she slowly eased her feet to the floor. “What would be the point in trying to walk if you wind up carrying me?”

He gave her a playful look. “I guess that doesn’t make any sense.”

They managed to get her to a standing position. “Whoa. I’m just a bit dizzy.” She held to Jared, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his touch. “After I walk, I’ll let you drive up the mountain to get the doctor. If you can’t drive it, at least you can walk it in the daylight. It’s about half a mile.” She took a steadying breath. “Most folks will be in church, with it being Easter Sunday. But Dr. Sloane…he doesn’t go to church. You’ll probably find him either in the clinic or at the Hilltop Diner.”

“I’ll get to him, either way,” Jared promised as he eased her along the room. “Want to go into the den and see the yard out the big window?”

She nodded as they slowly made their way up the narrow hallway. When they reached the long, wide den, she took in the room, and felt comforted by what she saw. Jared had straightened things up. The small kitchen lining one wall was sparkling clean, all the mismatched Fiesta-ware dishes placed against the drain and up in the open dish cabinet beside the sink. The crocheted blue-and-brown-patterned afghan she’d knitted years ago was neatly draped over the old patchwork sofa. Her beloved books were stacked in precise rows across the battered old coffee table. A fire was roaring in the fireplace on the far wall, and he’d fixed the door latch. She could still remember hearing the splintering of the wood when he’d crashed through it last night. Thankfully.

Wanting to tell Jared how grateful she was, Alisha debated and decided she’d get too emotional right now if she tried to put her feelings into words. She’d never been good with words, but she’d thank him properly later. So she said, “Oh, that fire feels nice. I see you found the firewood.”

He guided her further into the room. “Yes. Don’t you have any other source of heat?”

“Furnace in the kitchen closet. But I turned off the pilot light since the weather was beginning to warm. Of course, I wasn’t expecting these cooler temperatures the storm brought in.”

“I’ll see if I can relight it so you and the baby will be warm. This should be the last cold snap before spring.”

“I hope so,” Alisha said. “I love spring on this mountain.” She lifted her head to the welcoming fire. “I had the cabin remodeled when I moved in, but there are still some things that need updating.”

“We can certainly agree on that. Why don’t you have a phone?”

Oh, boy. Here he goes with the questions, she thought. What should she tell him? Alisha didn’t like lying, so she decided to tell the truth, but only what he needed to know. “It’s just hard getting service up here. We’re so remote. Getting a phone line almost requires an act of congress.”

That much was true, at least. Of course, she knew the village had most of the modern conveniences, including computers and Internet access, but only a few people living here went all out for that. Alisha wasn’t one of them.

“Well, then we’ll just have to petition Congress,” Jared said. “With a baby, you will definitely need a phone.”

“You’re right. I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m back on my feet and back at work.”

He kept a hand on her arm as they stopped in front of the big bay window that looked out over the front yard. “You work?”

“Yes,” she said, debating how much to tell him while her gaze took in the battered and broken limbs the storm had left all around her yard. “In the village, at the only store in town. Dover Mountain Mini-Mart and Grocery. It’s like a general store—everybody calls it that—or a really small Wal-Mart. We carry a little bit of everything.”

“What do you do there?”

“Whatever Mr. Curtis needs me to do,” she said with a laugh, glad she could tell him that much at least. “I help customers, stock inventory, sell my own homemade jellies and jams and crafts. And bread. I make good bread. There’s some in the cupboard by the refrigerator.”

“Really now? I’ll keep that in mind for lunch.”

She liked the teasing light in his eyes. But she didn’t like the curiosity.

“Tell me about you,” she said by way of changing the subject.

He shrugged, stared out at the dripping trees. “I own—correction—I used to own my own company. Murdock and Purcell Media Consultants. I just sold my half to my partner. He has a new partner already, though.”

Alisha saw the dark light of his eyes. So he didn’t like to talk about himself, either. “What did you do? I mean, who did you consult?”

He smiled then, his rugged features looking younger. “We did the consulting. We had clients who deal in television and radio, the Internet, any form of communication and media. We’d make suggestions to them on everything from advertising to investments.”

“Sounds important.”

He looked down at the African violet she kept on the windowsill. “It was important, to the people who depended on me, and to me.”

“And did you have a lot of people depending on you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why’d you give it up?”

She saw the darkness leap from his eyes, saw the way the smile drained right off his face and turned into a frown. “I got tired,” he replied, the words low and gravelly. “And disillusioned, I guess.”

“I can certainly understand both those feelings.”

He kept his head down, then turned so fast she almost had to step backward. “So…back to your job. Sounds as if you practically run the general store.”

“I try,” she admitted. She wanted to know more about him, but decided she wouldn’t press him for information. He might get suspicious and turn the tables on her. So she told him only superficial things. “I do like to stay busy, and the store is so ancient. No computers, no digital anything. Just the steady cling of the hand-cranked cash register. It’s very peaceful and soothing, spending my days there. And Mr. and Mrs. Curtis have already told me I can bring the baby to work with me for as long as I need. They live off the back of the store, so I can put Callum in a crib right near the door to their apartment.”

“That would be convenient,” he said, nodding. “Do they like children?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled softly. “They raised three of their own and now have lots of grandchildren coming to visit. One more won’t matter a bit to them. And Mrs. Curtis can help me with him. She loves babies.”

“They sound like a wonderful couple.”

“They are. But I love all of the people here. They’re all like that, helpful and caring.” And protective. But she didn’t mention that particular quality to him. “I feel like I have a whole new family.”

“What made you come here?”

She didn’t want to answer that, because she couldn’t answer that. But she could tell him one of the main reasons she’d decided to live on the mountain. “This cabin has been in my mother’s family for generations.”

He gave her a surprised look, but didn’t press her. “And now it’s yours?”

“It’s all I have left,” she said, suddenly tired herself, her body drained, but her mind even more so. “I think I need to get back to bed.”

He turned her around, then urged her back toward the bedroom. “It must be hard, going through this without your husband.”

“Harder than I ever imagined,” she said. And that was the truth. “But I’m going to make it,” she added, her conviction ringing hollow in her ears. She hoped she was going to make it.

“Will you be okay here alone while I go for the doctor?”

“Yes. I’m just going to sleep.” She let him help her down onto the feather mattress. “Could you pull the baby’s bed close, so I can see him?”

“Sure.” Jared did her bidding, bringing the rickety bassinet to the side of the bed, by the nightstand. “Can you get to him from there if you need to?”

She nodded. “I’ll be able to sit up and reach in for him.”

“Well, just be careful. Now which way is the doctor?”



Jared found his truck right where he’d left it. The cold air made him breathe puffs of fog, but the sight of his bogged-down SUV made him say hot words. “No wonder I couldn’t get it out last night,” he hollered to the wind.

The big truck’s two front tires had slipped into a muddy rut just off the badly paved lane that served as a road. The darkness and the bushy thickets along the road had covered the mud hole last night, which in turn had caused him to shift farther into the gaping hole and get all four wheels stuck. From the looks of it, it would take a winch and a tow truck to get the vehicle out.

And the radio weatherman had said this storm’s aftermath would be very bad. Power outages might last for another day and night at least. All over half of the state, the roads were closed, trees were down, schools would be closed on Monday for a three-day weekend due to water and wind damage and lack of electricity. Everything was closed, which meant Jared was stuck on this mountain.

Well, he’d wanted to get away. And he’d told the travel agent to find him the most remote, most isolated spot she could find in the fringes of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the one spot he remembered from his youth. He was at least three hours from Atlanta, almost to the Tennessee border.

When Jared decided to get away from it all, he certainly did it right. But being back here soothed his frazzled mind. He’d had happy times on this mountain with his grandfather. Times he’d long since forgotten due to work and everyday distractions.

He turned and started walking up the slippery slope of a road that wound toward the little village on top of the mountain. He didn’t want to leave Alisha alone for too long, so Jared tried to hurry. Even though he hadn’t been mountain climbing in years, he was in pretty good shape physically from working out at a downtown Atlanta health club three times a week. But that didn’t seem to matter in this early-morning cold. In spite of the wool sock-hat Alisha had given him and the collar of his heavy leather coat pulled up around his face, Jared felt as if he were frozen solid. His cheeks burned and his lungs hurt. But he kept on walking, right past the road that probably led to his own cabin, right past the rickety, run-down trailer that Alisha had told him belonged to the Wilkeses.

She’d also told him that the Wilkes family took care of the five different cabins the village rented out to tourists. He’d need to see Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes, she’d said, if he had trouble getting into his own cabin. If that ever happened, he reasoned now, thinking he couldn’t leave Alisha helpless and with a baby to take care of. Surely the doctor could suggest someone to sit with her, someone better equipped to deal with all of it.

Someone who wasn’t highly attracted to her and mystified by her, Jared thought as he huffed another short breath.

Thinking back over their earlier conversation, Jared remembered how evasive she’d been in answering his questions. She obviously valued her privacy. And she obviously loved living here in the quiet of the mountain, safely away from the outside world.

But why? his logical brain had to ask. Why was she here? Alisha was an intelligent, beautiful woman. A woman who had chosen to live alone in a remote cabin, without transportation or a phone.

Was she so destitute that she couldn’t afford those things? Or was it something else?

Thinking maybe he’d get some answers from the doctor, Jared finally reached the summit and the center of the small town. He’d like to help Alisha. He’d like to get to know Alisha.

And he’d really like to know what she was hiding.




Chapter Four


J ared pounded on the wide, creaking, glass-and-wood doors of the Dover Mountain Mini-Mart and Grocery, then pushed, surprised to find the store open this early on a Sunday morning. The indoor heat hit him with a dry, hot rush as he left the cold behind. The door was unlocked, but the place was dark and deserted. “Hello,” he called, glancing down the crowded aisles. “Anybody here?”

“In the back,” came a voice that sounded as aged and cracked as some of the old pickle barrels sitting around the place looked. “What can I do for you, fellow?”

Jared followed the sound of the voice to a rocking chair beside a puffing wood-burning buckstove. This whole store creaked and swayed and puffed, he decided, wondering how it had stood up through last night’s storm.

“Mr. Curtis?” he asked as he took off the sock-hat and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze on the old man who sat smoking a pipe while he steadily rocked back and forth.

“That’d be me,” the old man said, his grin revealing a gap-toothed smile. “Warren J. That’s what they call me. And who are you, stranger?”

Jared liked the directness of the other man’s question. “I’m Jared Murdock. I came in last night. Rented the second cabin on the left—”

“Number 202,” Mr. Curtis said, nodding. “Heard we had some city fellow coming to stay for a while. Don’t get many people from the city, mostly hunters or fishermen during the different seasons. Get a few rafters who like to ride the river in the summertime—too cold for that today, though. Goin’ to do some fishing and hiking, camping maybe?”

“I haven’t decided,” Jared replied, trying to get past the niceties. “Mr. Curtis, I got stuck in the storm and I went to the wrong cabin last night and…well, I helped Alisha Emerson deliver her baby.”

“What now?” Mr. Curtis shot up out of the rocking chair so fast, Jared had to catch the man to keep him from falling into the roaring heat from the furnace. “Let me get Letty.” He whirled in a mist of pipe smoke and overalls, his brogans carrying him to the back of the store with a clamoring clarity. “Letty, Letty Martha, come on out here, you hear?”

Jared heard a shrill voice responding. “Coming. Coming. Do we actually have a customer this morning? Well, I did tell you we’d need to open up just in case people needed things.” She stopped talking for a full second. “I was just about to go for a walk to survey the damage—before I change for church. We might not have electricity, but this is Easter Sunday. We’ll hold the service out underneath the trees if we have to.”

Jared waited, listening to the voice calling out from the back. Did the woman ever take a breath?

Warren J. stomped a brogan against the plank floor, causing the whole store to shake. “Not just a customer, honey. A man who says Alisha had her baby last night.”

That brought a rustling movement from the back. Letty Martha appeared in the doorway, wearing a bright pink nylon windsuit over a thick white turtleneck sweater. Even thicker white-and-purple bunny-rabbit-decorated socks folded like a ruffle against her battered athletic shoes. Pushing at the tufts of gray hair surrounding her jovial face, she gave her husband a direct head-to-toe look. “Did you say Alisha had her baby?”

“That’s what I said,” Warren J. replied, clearly agitated as he turned back to Jared. “And this here man, what did you say your name was now, son?”

“Jared Murdock,” Jared said, mustering a reassuring smile toward Letty Martha.

“This Jared says he helped deliver the baby,” Warren J. said, his watery eyes suspicious and full of utter disbelief.

“I don’t believe it,” Letty said, echoing the look in her husband’s eyes, her hand flying to her mouth. “Surely you’re joking us, mister. A baby born on Easter morning?”

“I’m not joking,” Jared said, hands on his hips. “Alisha wanted me to stop by and tell you first, but I need to find Dr. Sloane.” At the panicked look in the couple’s eyes, he held up a hand. “Mother and child are both doing fine as far as I can tell, but we still want the doctor to check them.”

Letty Martha and Warren J. both swung into action, almost colliding with each other in their nervousness and haste.

“I’ll call Doc right now,” Warren J. said as he held out two hands to steady his plump wife.

“And the midwife, too,” Letty Martha said, wagging a veined finger in the air. “Alisha wanted Miss Mozelle there, too, remember.”

“Well, I can only call them one at a time,” Warren J. replied in a curt voice. “I can hardly see without a light.”

Letty found a candle, lit it and held it to the phone so her husband could see. “Now then, do it, do it,” Letty Martha said, waving her hands in the air after her husband stubbornly took the candle from her. Turning back to Jared, she let out a laugh. “You’d think we’d never before had a baby born around here.”

Jared had to smile at that while he remembered his own nervousness from the night before. “I guess anytime a baby is born, things become a bit exciting.”

“You can say that again,” Letty replied, her hand reaching out to pull him down into one of the matching rocking chairs. “Sit down here and tell me everything. How is the darling? How’s the mama? That Alisha, she is such a sweet little thing, isn’t she? And been through so much—”

Letty Martha froze as if someone had put her in a trance, her vivid sky-blue eyes centered on her husband. Jared turned just in time to see the warning in her husband’s eyes, as well as the finger he had pressed to his lips, silently telling Letty Martha to be quiet.

Jared looked from the man with the phone to the woman in the rocking chair opposite him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, wondering if he was going to get a straight answer after all.

“Nothing, nothing,” Letty Martha said, waving her hands again. “I ramble on and on about everything. Warren J. was just reminding me to mind my manners. Now, would you like a good strong cup of coffee and a slice of apple bread?”

Jared could only nod and watch as, before he could decline, she disappeared in a puff of pink, an aura of almond-scented lotion following in her wake.

“Phone’s still not working,” Warren J. said as he ambled back over to the furnace. “You’ll have to walk to the doctor’s clinic. It’s just around the corner, but he might not be there, what with this storm and all. Just about everything in town—and that ain’t much, mind you—is shut down ’cause the power’s out.”

“What about his residence?” Jared asked, trying to be patient.

“It’s back behind the clinic,” Warren J. replied, rocking back and forth on his heels. “A white two-story house.”

“I’ll find him,” Jared said as Letty Martha came back in with his coffee and a large chunk of moist-looking brown bread, centered on a pink-and-purple-checked napkin. Apparently, pink and purple were Letty’s favorite colors.

“Eat, eat,” Letty Martha suggested, a serene smile on her face. “Did you walk all the way up that mountain?” At Jared’s nod, she added, “Take a quick rest, then. That’s a hard trek, even on a good day.”

Jared took a quick bite of the wonderful apple bread, then drank deeply of the fresh coffee. Chewing quickly, he thought he should just hurry to get the doctor. He’d only stopped in here to let them know about Alisha—at her insistence—and to make sure he was headed in the right direction toward the clinic.

But now he really wanted to know why Warren J. Curtis had made his wife hush before she could tell Jared exactly what Alisha had been through. Jared knew she’d been through a lot, losing her husband, moving here, then giving birth to a child alone, but there seemed to be more behind the story. He’d seen the look in Warren J.’s eyes. It had been a definite warning. Jared got the distinct impression that this lovely couple was in on some sort of secret.

Some sort of secret about Alisha Emerson.



While Jared talked to the Curtises, another man stood looking out at the silent town.

He knew a secret.

He stood at the window of the run-down house, staring out at the cold, wet landscape. Without electricity, there was no chance of getting anything done today. The roads were empty and dead silent, the ridges and woods eerie-looking and treacherous with fallen debris and limbs. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to work anyway. And he sure wasn’t going to church to celebrate Easter with all the fine folks of Dover Mountain.

He hated storms and he didn’t like God very much either.

“Could go on back to bed,” he told himself as he shivered in his undershirt and flannel pajama bottoms. If that aggravating phone company got the lines back up, he could go back to his latest obsession, surfing the Internet, hanging out in chat rooms, finding out secrets people didn’t necessarily want to be found out.

Like Alisha Emerson, for example. Alisha Emerson, the pretty, pregnant woman who’d mysteriously appeared on Dover Mountain in the fall and set up house in an old cabin that she claimed had belonged to her mother’s people.

Well, he’d done some digging around. Thanks to a few blabbermouths around here, and his ability to track people’s background information, he knew a few things about Alisha Emerson. And he intended to find out more. He had a plan. And that plan included wanting more than he was getting, wasting his time and his talent on this trash pile of a mountain. And if what he’d heard—what someone had let slip—was true, Alisha Emerson could help with those plans. He’d already tried to get closer to her. He’d been friendly and sympathetic to her plight, but the woman was stubborn and quiet. She liked to keep to herself, didn’t hold with sharing much personal stuff. That was okay. He’d learned enough when she’d first come here. And he could be patient as far as the rest. He could bide his time.

But first, he had to get all his ducks in a row. He had to be armed with enough information to make it worth his while. Enough information to make Alisha Emerson sweat just a little bit. Once he had her convinced, she’d give in to him. She’d be his then. He’d get back everything he’d lost, and together they could leave this dreadful place.

Speaking of sweating, he was freezing now. That’s how it went, hot and cold. Hot and cold. Shaking one minute and calm and still, burning, the next. He was just about to turn around and head back to his bedroom when he saw a movement coming up the road, headed toward the store just around the corner. He squinted against the cold, cracked window.

“Now, who’s that?” he wondered as he watched the tall man wearing a black leather overcoat go trudging up the muddy, potholed road to the south. There was a stranger on the mountain.

Tourists. Dover Mountain only got a few, but he hated them. They were just so nosy and demanding. A real pain to deal with. But this one looked like he had money, at least.

He snorted and scratched at his belly. “Some city fellow got lost in the storm. How tragic.” He laughed, thought about offering the man some help, but then decided he just felt too miserable for the effort. “You got yourself this far, I reckon. You can keep on moving.”

Besides, soon he’d have plenty of money himself. Wouldn’t have to depend on strangers for handouts, wouldn’t have to depend on this town, or these people to keep him above water. Soon, he’d be on his way off this sad little mountain and on to better things. No more worries. No more nagging memories. Freedom at last.

And all thanks to the beautiful Alisha Emerson.



Jared found Dr. Sloane. He had to pound on the door of the white house several times, but when the doctor finally came to the door, Jared was shocked at what he saw, and more than a little relieved that this man hadn’t had anything to do with Alisha’s delivery.

Dr. Sloane’s face was the color of saffron, yellowed and aged like dried newspaper. His hazel eyes sank back against his jaundiced skin like two pebbles trapped in stagnant water. His thick silver-streaked hair stood up in oily clumps around his forehead. He looked to be around fifty or so, but he was apparently suffering from what Jared could only guess was a tremendous hangover. Was this the best medical help the people of Dover Mountain could get?

“What you want?” the doctor asked, his bloodshot eyes moving over Jared’s face with contempt. “The clinic’s closed on Sundays, and I can’t open up, anyway. I don’t have electricity, so I can only deal with true emergencies.” He moved to shut the door.

“I have an emergency,” Jared said, his hand coming up to block the door. Hoping he’d be wrong, he asked, “You are Dr. Sloane, right?”

“Yep, but—”

Jared held the door. “Alisha Emerson had her baby last night. I helped deliver the boy. We just need you to come and check on them both, that is, if you think you’re able.”

Dr. Sloane’s head came up, his skin becoming a strange florid shade as he glared up at Jared. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to Alisha’s needs, thank you.” Then he pointed a finger in Jared’s face. “And just who exactly are you? We don’t cotton to strangers here, you know.”

“I’m beginning to see that, yes,” Jared said. “I’m Jared Murdock. I live in Atlanta—”

“Where in Atlanta?”

It was almost the same question Alisha had asked him last night. “Buckhead. In a house that’s been in my family for close to seventy years.” Jared didn’t go into detail about his uptown penthouse. It was none of this man’s business, anyway.

The doctor teetered on his bare feet, his liver-spotted hands pulling tightly at the sash of his threadbare plaid flannel bathrobe. “Old money, huh? Y’all think you can come up here and take over this mountain—tourists and troublemakers—”

“I’m not a troublemaker, and I’m really not a tourist,” Jared replied, anger making the words harsh. “But if you don’t get in gear and come with me to see about Alisha, I’m going to make trouble, a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t take to threats,” the doctor said, leaning in so close Jared could smell the leftover alcohol on his breath. And see the fury in his eyes.

As they stood staring each other down, Jared heard church bells ringing, then the soft, sweet sound of voices lifted in a song. The Easter service had begun, and the sound of the celebration echoed out over the mountain, reminding Jared of Alisha’s gospel music. Reminding him that he’d left her alone.

“Do you care about Alisha and her baby?” Jared asked the doctor, doubt and worry making him think Alisha was better off without this old coot. No wonder Alisha had insisted on having a midwife present, too.

That brought the doctor’s head back up and Jared thought he saw tears in the man’s weary eyes. But the clarity came back, as if the doctor had come to his senses and realized his job. “I care. We all do. Never doubt that for a minute.”

The softening tone in the man’s voice gave Jared a little bit of reassurance. “Then will you hurry up and come back down the mountain with me. I had to walk—my SUV is stuck in a mud hole, and the roads are muddy and slick. Do you think you can make it to her cabin with me?”

“Let me change,” the doctor said, spinning around. Then he turned back to stare at Jared. “You can come on in, make a pot of coffee. I got a percolator and a gas stove to brew it nice and hot.”

There was a plea inside the suggestion.

“Good idea,” Jared said as he entered the narrow hallway of the old home. “For both our sakes.”



Alisha heard the knocking at her door, and thinking it was Jared, called out to him. “Come in.”

“It’s me, Miss Alisha.”

“Rayanne?” Alisha sat up in the bed. “I’m back in the bedroom, honey.”

She waited, her gaze moving protectively over little Callum as she heard the girl coming up the hallway toward the bedroom. As Rayanne Wilkes entered the bedroom, Alisha thought of the tough road the girl had ahead of her. Rayanne was also pregnant, unwed, and due in about three or four weeks.

Taking in the sight of the girl all bundled up in a worn green wool coat and an old, moth-eaten yellow knitted scarf, Alisha asked, “What are you doing out in this cold, wet weather, sweetie?”

“Word’s out you had a baby last night,” Rayanne said, her smile shy as always, her green eyes dancing. She lifted the heavy scarf away from her face, static causing strands of her limp blond hair to fly out. “Mama sent me right away. I put some cookies and sandwiches on the kitchen table.”

The Wilkes family had very little money and no hope of climbing out of debt anytime soon. They lived in an old mobile home back off the road, up on a beautiful ridge just past Alisha’s cabin. With four of their five children still living at home, and with their only income coming from part-time jobs and cleaning and maintaining the village’s five remote rental cabins, the Wilkeses were barely squeaking by. And yet, Loretta Wilkes had somehow found food for Alisha.

Touched by the kindness, Alisha said, “That’s awfully nice of your mama,” Alisha said. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She wanted to,” Rayanne said, moving around the room toward the bassinet. “Mr. Curtis came himself to tell us. Wanted one of us to come and sit with you while that man who helped you went for the doctor.”

“Jared Murdock,” Alisha replied, memories settling around her as she stared up at Rayanne. “I guess he found Dr. Sloane all right?”

“Don’t know,” Rayanne said. “Half the town’s at the church, attending Easter services out in the prayer garden. Of course, we both know Dr. Sloane won’t be there.” Then she spotted the baby and leaned in toward the crib as she let out a squeal. “Oh, ain’t he the prettiest little thing?”

Alisha felt tears pricking her eyes, and wasn’t surprised to see the same in Rayanne’s eyes. “You’ll soon have your own.”

Rayanne nodded, the mist turning to real tears. “I guess so.”

“What about Jimmy?” Alisha asked, her tone gentle and without judgment.

“He ain’t offered to marry me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rayanne said as she sank down in the chair by the bed, her eyes still on little Callum.

Jimmy Barrett was Rayanne’s boyfriend and the father of her child. And in Alisha’s mind, he was the worst kind of trouble. He drove a souped-up Camaro and ran the roads up and down the mountain, back and forth, day and night. What little money he made went for beer and more fancy equipment for his computer games and elaborate stereo system. “Has he offered to help with the expenses, at least?”

“No.” Rayanne shook her head, then sniffed. “He ain’t offered nothing, and my daddy’s pretty steamed about that.”

“Rightly so,” Alisha replied, remembering when the teenaged girl had first come to her seeking help. “Rayanne, I’m glad you’re keeping your baby, but honey, you know if it gets to be too much, there are plenty of couples who could give your baby a good home—”

“No,” Rayanne said, coming up off the bed in spite of her rounded belly. “I told you already, I can’t do that, Miss Alisha. I can’t give up my baby to strangers. Mama said we’d make do. I’ll find work somewhere, and Mama will help me.”

“I know your mother will do her best,” Alisha said, nodding, her hand reaching out to the girl. “And you know I’ll help you out, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rayanne said, settling back on the bed, her hand clutching Alisha’s. “I appreciate everything you’ve already done. And I ain’t told no one about the money you loaned me.”

“Good,” Alisha replied, relief washing over her. Then at Rayanne’s evasive look, she asked, “Not even Jimmy?”

Rayanne glanced away. “He found some of it in my purse. But I told him Mama gave it to me. He made me give some over to him, for cigarettes and gas. Said I owed him since he had to take me down the mountain to that free clinic you suggested in Dalton.”

Anger coursed through Alisha’s veins like a raging river, but she couldn’t let Rayanne see that anger. It had been a long, hard battle, counseling this girl at church every week, and Alisha knew the real battle was still to come. She couldn’t bad-mouth Jimmy Barrett, whether she liked the man or not, at least not to Rayanne. The girl was in love with Jimmy. But Jimmy was older than Rayanne, and a sweet-talker with street smarts at that. Rayanne had been taken in by his charm and cunning. And now the girl was paying for her impulsive actions and her need to be loved and accepted. Big-time.

But we all have to pay, sooner or later, Alisha reasoned. We all pay for our sins.

Don’t let my baby suffer because of me, Lord, she said silently. And don’t let Rayanne pay because she made one mistake. “Jimmy needs to own up to his responsibilities,” she told the girl, her voice calm in spite of the flutter of rage still moving through her system.

“I think he’ll come around after the baby is born,” Rayanne said in a hopeful tone. “I mean, how could anyone resist something so little and sweet?” As she spoke she gazed down at Alisha’s son. “What did you name him?”

“Callum,” Alisha answered, the anger simmering down as she looked at her son. “Callum Andrew Emerson.”

“Callum,” Rayanne said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Where’d you come up with a name like that?”

Alisha lowered her head and smiled softly. “The man who helped deliver him—his middle name is Callum.”

“Ah, that’s so sweet, Miss Alisha. Is this man…is he handsome?”

Seeing the girl’s sly grin, Alisha laughed. “He is a very nice-looking man, yes. And a true gentleman.”

A man who grew up in Atlanta, the very place I’m trying to forget, she reminded herself.

Rayanne watched Alisha, then touched a hand to Callum’s little arm. “Do you wish his daddy was here?”

A shiver moving like a fingertip down her spine, Alisha wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “I know his daddy would be so proud,” she said, tears once again brimming in her eyes.

“We’re a pair, ain’t we, Miss Alisha?” Rayanne said, one hand holding to Callum as she reached the other to Alisha. “All alone, with no daddies for our babies.”

“We are a pair,” Alisha said, the tender longing in the girl’s eyes making her own heart ache. “But we’re going to be fine, Rayanne. Remember, I promised to help you.”

Rayanne nodded. “And you told me, no matter how bad things get, God is watching over me.”

“That’s right,” Alisha replied, remembering a time when she thought God had abandoned her. “You made a mistake, but your child shouldn’t have to pay for that mistake. And if you turn to God and try to do right by this baby, things will work out for the best.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rayanne said, her hand touching her stomach. “I pray you are.”

Alisha echoed that prayer in her own soul. She wanted to do right by her child, and she surely wanted God to guide her along the way. It had taken her a while to see that God was here with her, and now that she’d turned back to Him for the help and guidance she needed, she could only hope God had not turned away from her pleas, from her need to raise this child with love and faith as his cornerstones.

And she could only hope that God had forgiven her for her awful, awful sins and the secret that could destroy her son if anyone ever found out the truth.




Chapter Five


I t was past noon before Jared made it back to the cabin with Dr. Sloane and Miss Mozelle in tow. Together, he and the doctor had gone to find the midwife, in spite of Dr. Sloane’s protests that he didn’t need “that strange woman” meddling in his work.

“Alisha wants her there,” Jared had told the ornery man. And after meeting the distinguished Dr. Joseph Sloane, Jared wanted a second opinion himself.

To his credit, however, Dr. Sloane had cleaned up and sobered up with record speed. And the man didn’t seem to have a problem walking the half-mile distance to Alisha’s cabin.

“Been walking this mountain since I learned how to walk,” Dr. Sloane had informed him as they skirted their way past deep rutted puddles and fallen limbs. “Walking is good for your health,” the doctor had reminded him.

Jared hadn’t lost the irony of that reminder. He wanted to retort with, “Well, alcohol is not good for your health or for anyone living on this mountain who needs your help.” But something had stopped him. Something in Dr. Sloane’s demeanor set Jared to wondering why the man did drink. Jared decided he couldn’t be cruel to someone who was willing to go out after a storm, with a hangover, to help another human being. Maybe Doc Sloane had some redeeming qualities after all.

And then there was Miss Mozelle. If she had a last name, no one had bothered to give it to Jared. Even though she had to be older than the doctor by twenty years, she didn’t look as old and wizened as Dr. Sloane. But then, Jared didn’t think anyone could top the doctor’s sallow, sunken face.

The midwife had skin the color of a rich mocha coffee, and eyes as brown and rich as tree bark. She wore several knitted shawls and scarves, a bright red one on her braided head, a green-and-yellow one around her shoulders and another longer thick black one for warmth. Underneath them, she had on a long denim gathered skirt and sturdy hiking boots. And she carried a large tapestry bag, her walk proud and queenlike. She also stood at least a half a foot over the shrunken Dr. Sloane.

“I was born and raised in that house,” she told Jared as she pointed to her large square gray-washed house with the long wide front porch. “My great-grandfather was a full-blooded Cherokee. He married a freed slave woman and they had seven children. My father was a hardworking, proud man who farmed the land down in that small valley beyond our house, and my sweet mother was a school-teacher to the black and Native American children on the mountain.”

Miss Mozelle was obviously very proud of her mixed Native and African-American heritage. Interesting African masks were hanging on the porch walls, mixed in with Cherokee artifacts that seemed to depict a story of some sort. The colorful masks, broken arrowheads and shiny beads, all strung and hung with leather, glinted and swayed as the weak sun tried to break through the cold, dark skies.

Not knowing what to say to the intimidating woman, Jared nodded toward the mountains off in the distance, past a plummeting drop-off that fell to a deep gully and flowing stream below. “You have a splendid view.”

“Gets even better this time of year. Like being smack in the middle of a flower garden on top of the world,” she said, her laughter as thick as dripping syrup. “Right up here close to the good Lord. I like it that way.”

Dr. Sloane snorted his disapproval then, and he was still arguing and snorting now, as they stepped up onto Alisha’s cabin porch. “You can stay right here until I call for you, woman,” he told Miss Mozelle with a lift of one bushy brow.

Miss Mozelle stopped to catch her breath, her keen eyes centered on the doctor. “I aim to go in there and tend to Alisha.”

“Not if I don’t need you, you aren’t.”

“I don’t care about you or what you need, silly man. Alisha done told me she wanted me by her side when that baby comes. And that baby done come, and I’m going in there to see to both the mother and the child. Now go on in, or step aside.”

Dr. Sloane stood up ramrod straight, that faint glint of rage back in his eyes. “Why, you—”

“Uh, excuse me,” Jared said, getting between these two very stubborn forces. “Could we concentrate on Alisha and the baby? I’ve been out all morning, trying to round both of you up, and I’m worried about her being in there all by herself. Can we go inside, please?”

Both of them turned at the same time and ran into each other.

“After you,” Dr. Sloane said, his words stretched with sarcasm and annoyance as he gave an elaborate bow to Miss Mozelle.

“Why, thank you,” Miss Mozelle replied, sweeping past him like a regal queen dismissing a lowly subject. Then she opened the door and hollered, “I’m here, baby. Miss Mozelle gonna take care of you, precious.”

The doctor snorted and scowled, but he hurried to catch up. “That woman thinks she knows everything there is to know in the world, especially about mothers and babies. And considering that she never married and had any, it’s a puzzle as to why these women around here trust her at all.”

Jared shook his head, wondering what kind of time-warp he’d walked into, and wishing he’d had the travel agent book him a safe, cozy cabin in Vail or Aspen, or a nice warm spot on an exotic island, instead of here in the North Georgia mountains. These people didn’t live by the rules and standards of the outside world. Here on this remote mountain, they seemed to live in a world of their own. And they seemed determined to keep the real world out of their affairs.

Very tight-knit and closemouthed, these villagers.

When he entered the tiny cabin, he saw just how tight-knit. And just how suspicious. The room was full of people, mostly women and a few men looking uncomfortable and closed, while the women fussed and gushed and fluffed and shifted. But all of that stopped when Jared walked in. The room went silent as all faces turned to him. Jared nodded a greeting then looked around.

There was food everywhere. Bread, cakes, pies, soup, a pot roast, a big batch of chocolate chip cookies—Jared couldn’t believe the amount. Alisha would never be able to eat all of this.

“Hello,” he heard a timid voice say from just inside the hallway toward the bedroom. “You must be Jared.”

Jared turned from the stares and nods of the people gathered in Alisha’s cabin, to find a young, blond-haired girl staring up at him. A very pregnant, young, blond-haired girl. Thinking he sure wasn’t ready to assist in yet another delivery, Jared could only nod. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, what took you so long?” the girl asked, one skinny hand on the hip of her baggy jeans.

Jared took off his cap, then unbuttoned his jacket, suddenly hot and stuffy. “I…I had to find the doctor and Miss Mozelle and, well, it’s still wet and messy out there.” Not used to having to make excuses or give explanations, Jared grew silent and went into a staring war with the defiant young girl.

“We’re glad you’re here now, mister,” another feminine voice said from the kitchen.

Jared looked up to find an older replica of the pregnant girl staring at him. The woman’s hair had probably been blond once, but it was now a wash between gray and gold, and pulled up in a haphazard bun around the top of her head. Her clothes looked old and washed-out, too. A faded polyester dress printed with huge cabbage roses covered her sunken frame. In spite of her plain, wrinkled face, her smile was fresh and sincere.

“I’m Loretta Wilkes, and that’s my daughter, Rayanne,” she said, waving a hand toward the hovering girl. “Rayanne, quit staring and go see if Alisha needs anything.”

Rayanne shrugged and turned to head toward the bedroom.

The woman’s eyes swept over Jared’s face again. “We just came straight here from the church services.”

“I heard the singing as we were walking back,” Jared replied, remembering the sweet, clear sound of “Shall We Gather by the River.”

“In spite of the storm and the cold, we had a good turnout for Easter Sunday.” She laughed then, pushing at loose strands of hair, one hand going out to a man who approached with a plate of pie. “Reverend Stripling, this is Jared Murdock, the man who helped Alisha last night.”

The jovial young-looking reverend pumped Jared’s outstretched hand, balancing his pie with the other hand. “Nice to meet you. We sure appreciate what you did for Alisha.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, too,” Jared said. “Both of you.” Then he extended a hand to Mrs. Wilkes. “I guess I need to get the key to my cabin from you.”

“Yes, got it right here,” Mrs. Wilkes said, digging into a big blue vinyl tote bag that stated I Love Quilting on its side. Producing the key, which was attached to a white furry rabbit’s-foot keychain, she said, “We don’t get many visitors this time of year when it’s still chilly out. Most folks like to come in late spring or during the summer—family-type outings.”

Jared saw the curiosity in the woman’s hazel eyes. “I don’t have family,” he said, his tone hesitant.

“That’s a shame,” Loretta replied. “Me, I got family to spare. I’m kin to most of the people on this mountain.” She laughed again, the sound like a soft melody.

“And it looks as if a lot of them are here with you today,” Jared said as a small boy of about seven whizzed by him, a blue plastic Richard Petty Nascar race car in his hand.

Loretta grabbed the boy without batting an eye. “Robert, slow down there.” After giving the boy a stern warning, she turned back to Jared. “Yes, sir. Sorry I had to bring along the two younger ones. Can’t leave them with their older brother. They fight too much.” She motioned around the room. “That’s my husband, Tate. He’s holding our boy, Joshua. And I think you know Mrs. Curtis from the store.”

Mrs. Curtis smiled brightly, but didn’t bother to carry on any conversation. When Jared smiled back, the older woman quickly averted her eyes.

“And Langford and Dorothy Lindsay—they run the Hilltop Diner, across from the store.”

Trying to be polite, Jared waved and spoke to the big-chested black man and his petite, smiling wife as they lifted their hands and nodded toward him, their direct stares intimidating and obvious. Jared felt as if he were being put to some sort of test. They didn’t like having an outsider among them.

But in this case, they couldn’t turn him away. Jared had helped Alisha. And since the whole mountain seemed to love and admire Alisha Emerson, these people had to be grateful and courteous to him.

For now, anyway.



The rest of the day went by for Alisha in a blur of shapes and sounds. Visitors came and went, careful not to linger too long or get too close to the tiny newborn baby.

Dr. Sloane examined her, then declared she was doing okay, all things considered. And he pronounced little Callum as being near perfect—no problems there either that he could tell. He seemed to want to linger, his eyes centered on the baby, his expression solemn and quiet, even though his hands shook. Alisha could clearly see that he had a hangover. Again.

Then Miss Mozelle gave Alisha another examination, using her own unique brand of medicine—part folklore and old wives’ tale, part prayer and healing, and always, always, with the firm belief that God was in complete control.

Jared walked in just as Miss Mozelle lifted Callum out of his tiny cradle and held him to her heart. Amazed, Alisha watched as the woman gently rocked the baby back and forth, cooing to him in some ancient dialect that had a soothing rhythm to it. Jared shot Alisha a puzzled, questioning look, but remained silent and respectful. Miss Mozelle had that kind of effect on people.

“She’s saying a Cherokee prayer for him,” Alisha explained in a soft whisper. “To ward off evil.”

Miss Mozelle kissed the baby, then put him safely back into his little bed, seemingly satisfied that she’d done her job.

“Take this here,” she told Alisha later, handing her a packet made of cheesecloth tacked together with string. “It’s wild cherry bark. Brew you some tea—it’s good for the blood. You need to rebuild your blood now, honey. Lady’s slipper leaves will do the same, but I ain’t got any of them right now.” Then she’d wagged a long finger. “And remember, if the colic takes little Callum, just wrap a warm towel around his tummy. That’ll soothe it right away.”

“Thank you, Miss Mozelle,” Alisha said, grateful for the kind woman’s knowledge and wisdom. Alisha felt safe with Miss Mozelle. But sometimes she also felt raw and exposed to the woman’s keen intuitions. From the moment they’d met, Miss Mozelle had watched her closely, as if she already knew why Alisha had come home to Dover Mountain. Alisha had confided in the wise older woman, to a certain degree, at least. There were some things she couldn’t share with anyone, not even Miss Mozelle.



“You got some healing to do, don’t you, precious? That’s all right by me. Me and the good Lord, we’re watching out for you. You can rest easy now.” Miss Mozelle told Alisha that later in the afternoon, after she’d sent all the well-wishers on their way, telling them mother and child needed to rest.

All the well-wishers but one, of course.

Jared Murdock was still here. Maybe Miss Mozelle had finally met her match.

As if Alisha’s thinking about the man had summoned him, he appeared in the bedroom door with a soft smile on his rugged face. “Did you get any rest?”

Alisha stretched, then grinned. “Yes, I did, actually. Callum had his lunch feeding and then we both had a nice nap. But I think I need to get up and move around some more now though. Miss Mozelle—”

He held up a hand. “I know, I know. She said you had to keep the blood circulating through your system. Said—let’s see if I can remember—the only way to get over being weak is to get on with being strong.”

Alisha had heard that same advice many times since coming here. And she supposed that was exactly what she’d done all along. She’d been weak once, but now she had to be strong. For her son’s sake.

“Miss Mozelle is an amazing woman,” Alisha said as she slowly eased up off the bed. Taking the thick floral wrapper that Jared handed to her, she allowed him to help her pull it over her flannel gown.

“Everyone seems scared of her,” Jared replied, his touch on her arm comforting and warm.

“As well they should be. Miss Mozelle believes in the old ways of the mountain people.”

“I kind of gathered that.”

“She’s had a hard life here on the mountain, but she’s educated. Her father, Jasper Cooleridge, wanted all of his children to have an education, but especially his firstborn. She attended Spelman College in Atlanta.”

Jared looked surprised. “Wow, that’s one of the best African-American colleges in the South.”

Alisha laughed, fluffed her braid. “Yes, and she’d be the first to tell you that.” Clasping her hands, she continued. Telling him about Miss Mozelle was much safer than talking about herself. “Her father died the year before she started school, but her mother urged Miss Mozelle to go on to college. She was studying to become a doctor—something unheard of for a black woman in that day and time—then her mother passed away during Mozelle’s junior year at college. Mozelle didn’t hesitate. She came home to Dover Mountain to take care of her three younger siblings.

“Once they were old enough to look after themselves, she finished up at Spelman, then went to nursing school. She became certified as a nurse/midwife at Emory University, while she worked part-time as a waitress in a diner near the college. She could have worked in Atlanta, but she came home to the mountain.”

“Is she married?”

“No, she never married. Doesn’t have children, either. Her life was always devoted to her family. These last twenty years have been devoted to helping Dr. Sloane deliver babies safely. Actually, she helps him with most of his patients.”

Alisha wondered if that’s how her life would be here on the mountain. Would she spend the next thirty-five or forty years alone the way Miss Mozelle had?

“You look so sad,” Jared said, bringing her mind back to the woman who’d helped her heal.

Alisha managed a smile for him, and reminded herself that she was safe and she had a beautiful baby boy. She wasn’t alone. She had nothing to complain about. So she went back to talking about her friend. “I just admire her so much. She sacrificed a lot. She’s worked hard all her life, fighting for the things she believes in. She marched in Selma, Alabama, with Dr. Martin Luther King.”

Jared crossed his hands over his sweater. “Impressive. No wonder she doesn’t take any bunk from anyone.”

“No. She’s strong and sure, and she’s done a fine job with her two younger brothers and her sister. Their parents left them a trust fund for college. But Miss Mozelle never used that money. She worked her way through nursing school and midwife certification. She gave her money to the other three for their education. Now they’re all married with children and good steady jobs, scattered around the country. And they send her monthly checks—which she puts away in case they need the money back someday.”

“Why’d she become a midwife?”

“She doesn’t talk about that very much, but I think she wanted to do something to help the poor women on this mountain. I think she relies on her instincts, her knowledge, and the old ways a lot. All the women on the mountain trust her to do the right thing—if Miss Mozelle can’t help you, she’ll get you to the nearest doctor or clinic so you’ll be all right.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s here,” Jared said as he sank back against the window frame. “I have my doubts about Dr. Sloane.”

“He’s a kind soul really, once you get past the crusty exterior.”

“And the alcohol on his breath.”

Alisha decided not to tell Jared all there was to know about Dr. Sloane. The man was so tormented, nothing could reach him now. Best to be discreet and not gossip about the doctor’s private miseries. “He’s very efficient when he’s sober,” she said. “But then, even though they constantly argue and fuss at each other, Dr. Sloane and Miss Mozelle have helped out everyone on Dover Mountain at one time or another.”

“And they haven’t come to blows yet, I guess. That’s good,” Jared replied, his brain awhirl with more questions. “Only, you got stuck with me instead.”

“We did okay,” she said, her gaze moving over to the baby sleeping within her reach. “Miss Mozelle says Callum is twice blessed.”

“Oh, really, how so?”

She lowered her head, embarrassed even to say it. “She says he has me for a mother, and now he has you for a protector.”

Alisha could tell this made Jared uncomfortable, too. He stood up straight, stared at the baby, glanced back at Alisha, then settled back on the wall again, obviously at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to listen to that kind of talk,” she said, a tiny bit of disappointment moving through her system as she eased toward the hall. “I love Miss Mozelle, but she can be a bit overwhelming if you don’t know her. Just remember, she has a heart of gold, but not even she can predict the future. She’d tell you herself only God knows that. She’s the one who got me back involved in the church.”

At his look of interest, Alisha wished she hadn’t mentioned that. Jared Murdock didn’t need to know the details of her life.

“So you attend regularly then?”

“Yes,” she said, deciding this was a safe topic. “I attend and I volunteer two afternoons a week as a mentor for the youth group. Those teenagers need some positive guidance.”

He helped her make her way across the den toward the fireplace. “What do you do to help them?”

“I mostly listen,” Alisha said, her body protesting the short walk, her legs wobbly and weak. “You know, teenagers are the same anywhere. The big city, a small mountain town. It doesn’t matter where they live or how much money or social standing they have, they all have the same problems.”

“Such as Rayanne’s being pregnant?”

She nodded, one hand on the pain in her back as she eased down into a chair by the fire. “Yes. Poor girl. Sixteen and having a baby. And the father refuses to marry her. I could just shake that Jimmy Barrett. He sure led her right down the garden path.”

“I take it you don’t approve of the boy.”

She glanced over at Jared, not sure what to expect since she didn’t know where he stood in the faith and good works department, but all she saw in his dark eyes was polite curiosity. “No, I don’t approve of him. He’s twenty-three years old and a charmer. He makes pretty good money doing yard work and working on cars, but he’s lazy and only wants to have a good time, spends his spare time on the computer, e-mailing his friends, and he spends most of his money on music, beer and video games. He hasn’t offered either marriage or money to Rayanne.”

“So you counsel her?”

“I try. She doesn’t want to give the baby up for adoption, but her parents are having a hard time as it is. Her father, Tate, worked at the local outlet store and manufacturing company at the base of the mountain, but then it shut down and put a lot of people out of work, including him. Now they just clean and maintain the few cabins we have left to rent to tourists and take on odd jobs here and there to make extra money.”

She could almost see his mind churning with more questions. “What type of manufacturing?”

“Carpets and drapery. It was a spin-off plant from the Dalton carpet factories, and an outlet store for carpet and drapery samples on the side, but the owner didn’t have very good business sense. He was the last descendant of the original settlers on the mountain, the last of the Dovers. He lived in a fancy house in Dalton, and only came here to check on things when it was absolutely necessary, but he just couldn’t get it together and he ran up a lot of debts trying to keep the factory running. Then things got pretty bad with the economy and they had to shut it down.

“He went bankrupt and now Dover Mountain doesn’t have any sort of employment opportunities. People have been forced to move closer to Dalton and Rome, some as far away as Atlanta, and some with no place to go, living off welfare. It’s really bad.”

“And yet, you came back here.”

Alisha stared down at the fire. She had her reasons for coming back here, but she wasn’t ready to explain them to him. Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “Why did you come here, Jared?”

His face went blank, his eyes downcast and evasive. He sat silent, his hands clasped for a full minute before he said, “I honestly don’t know.”

“Or you just don’t want to talk about it,” she replied.

“Maybe not.” He got up to stir the fire, his broad back effectively shutting her out.

Alisha watched him, acutely aware of how his masculine presence filled the tiny cabin. He was a stranger who’d shown up in a raging rainstorm. A stranger who now held a strong bond with her newborn son. And her.

A stranger who didn’t want to explain why he’d come here. He didn’t want to be a protector.





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