dream baby
by
ann evans

Dear Reader, It's hard to believe that the millennium is nearly here.

When I was a kid, it seemed so far away.  I was sure that by the year 2000
we'd be zipping around town in spaceships, our meals would be prepared by
robots and we'd all be living in geodesic domes.  As a fan of history rather
than science, I thought it all sounded pretty scary and undesirable.  But
here we are on the eve of a new century, and I'm delighted to see that one
aspect of life hasn't changed much over the years.  Falling in love is still
unpredictable.  It can't be bottled or scheduled or forced, and it can still
sneak up on two unlikely people who think they know exactly what the
millennium will bring them.  As I wrote this book, I liked the idea that I
was creating two such characters in Nora and Jake--a heroine who sees only
loneliness in her future, and a hero struggling to put the past behind him to
make a new life.  Their expectations don't include a baby, but what better
way for two deserving lovers to kick off a brand-new year!  I hope the
millennium brings you happiness and lots of wonderful books that warm and
touch your heart.  Somehow, the future just looks a little less scary when
it's filled with love.  Happy New Year!  Ann Evans Books by Arm Evans

HARLEQUIN SUPER ROMANCE

701--HOT & BOTHERED 752--THE MAN FOR HER 805--HOME TO STAY

For Evan and Holly Marsh, who gave me the opportunity to experience the
love, excitement and delight of children firsthand, and who continue to
enrich my life today.

CHAPTER ONE

New Year's Eve, 1998 nora holloway went to bed early.  Without waiting for
the ball to drop in Times Square, without a thimbleful of alcohol in her
system, without making a single resolution.  She went to bed before the first
skyrocket had a | chance to arc over Blue Devil Springs's postage stamp of a
town square.  Praying for deep, dreamless sleep--and knowing that it was
probably a futile wish.  An hour before 1998 escaped into the record books,
she awoke sweaty and breathless in her bed, her head full of familiar
images--long dark corridors, the sound of a baby crying, and herself,
confused and frightened and unable to change any of it.  She sat upright,
disoriented, but only for a moment or two.  She knew why the baby dream had
visited her tonight.

That afternoon she'd sorted through a box of junk she intended to donate to
the Memorial Day garage sale.  She had expected to find nothing of value,
certainly nothing that would cause her heart to miss a beat.

But instead it had yielded a treasure trove of mementos.  The dried, crumpled
remains of the orchid she'd worn to the prom.  A clutch of blue ribbons her
brother.  Trip, had won in crew.  Letters she had written to Mom and Dad from
college.  Nothing startling.  Nothing dramatic, although it was a little bit
of a surprise to find pictures of Peter in the box as well.  Peter, looking
strong and handsome, with that absurdly charming smile that she'd fallen
victim to right from the first.  He seemed so achingly young in the
photographs.  The sight of those objects brought no pain.  Only regret for
what might have been.

She'd been smil- f ing when she reached into the box to retrieve those faded
images.  But as she picked them up, her fingers brushed something soft, and
when she saw what it was, the smile froze on her Ups.  How stupid to have
forgotten what she'd done with the half-finished, cross-stitched birth
announcement.  The one she'd taken with her to the doctor's office that rainy
day five years ago--five years ago to the day.  It was such a small thing--
too small to be framed on the nursery wall, Peter had said.  But Nora had
kept stitching anyway, because the cheery colors and its pattern of
childishly simple icons for a little boy made her feel good, made her feel
like the mother she couldn't wait to become in just four short months.
Seeing the announcement again this afternoon had brought it all back.
Soiled, fading, the fabric sat in her lap as though it were a snake that
might strike her.  The name she and Peter had chosen for their son still
stood out plainly.

JEREMY WILLIAM.  Jeremy for Peter's father.  William for hers.  Only the boy
hadn't lived to carry the weighty, paternal pride of such an important name.
He'd died the day of the accident.  Along with Peter.

Along with so many half-formed dreams she'd had for the future.  Now in the
darkness of her bedroom, Nora's hand rumbled for the bedside lamp.

She squinted against the bright glare, shoving handfuls of tangled dark hair
out of her eyes so that she could read the clock radio: 10:58 P.  M.  Almost
1999.  A few homemade bottle rockets zinged in the distance.  It was probably
her neighbor down the road, Walt Clevenger, eager to start the celebration.
She'd dated him two years ago and knew how impatient he could get.  Rifle
shots cracked from the direction of the national forest.  The rangers would
be on the revelers in the blink of an eye.

Alan Harcourt, the first man she'd gone out with after Peter's death,
didn't let campers get too rowdy.  Her heart was no longer pounding, but it
would be impossible to get any sleep for a little while, not with all the
noise.  She flipped on the television as she made her way into the kitchen.
The sound woke Larry, snoring noisily at his favorite spot on the rug by the
big stone fireplace.  The mongrel, the last of three moth- eaten pups she and
Trip had saved a few years ago, snuffled a complaint and then followed in
her footsteps.  Sensing his motive, Nora plucked a sliver of ham off the
leftovers plate in the fridge and tossed it to him.  Larry's front paws
barely left the floor as he caught the morsel in midair.  Hunched over the
open refrigerator door, Nora was about to pull a soda off the shelf when her
hand brushed against the small bottle of champagne she'd set out earlier in
Cabin Five.  The honeymooners she'd expected to check in today had called to
cancel their weekend stay at Holloway's Hideaway, the resort cabins Nora and
her brother had inherited from their parents.  The trip to Paris the lucky
couple had received as a wedding gift from their families far outweighed
anything the Hideaway and tiny Blue Devil Springs could offer.  "C'est la
vie," she said and snagged the champagne bottle.  She kicked the door closed
with one bare foot, pulled a clean glass off the kitchen counter and headed
for the living room.  Her attention strayed to the television, where two
giddy co hosts were superimposed over the crowd of revelers in New York's
Times Square.  "and you can really feel the excitement in the crowd, even
from up here, can't you, Mary Bern?"  the male announcer nearly shouted.  "I
don't think I've ever seen a new year greeted this enthusiastically, and
we've still got almost an hour to go before 1999 gets here."  Mary Beth
smiled her plastic talk-show host's smile and nodded.  "I think you're right.
Bill.  Each year, as we've gotten closer to the start of the millennium,
people seem more and more excited.  I can't wait to see what next year
brings, when we actually hit 2000.  Can you?"

 "Yes,"

Nora muttered as she twisted the wire champagne seal.  "I can."  Larry jumped
when she popped the cork.  Hunkering down into the huge, plush cushions on
the couch, Nora poured herself a glass of champagne, then tweaked open the
small card she'd attached to the bottle just yesterday.  She frowned at the
silly sentiment she'd painstakingly written inside: Karen and
David--Congratulations on the start of a wonderful new life together.  Nora
and Trip Holloway, your friends at the Hideaway With her glass full of
champagne, Nora tipped an imaginary toast outward.  "You missed your chance,
Karen and Dave.  All the best, anyway."  It had been a long time since she'd
had any reason to drink champagne.  The liquid tickled her throat as it went
down, but didn't seem to have much flavor.  She poured another glass,
inspecting the label and wondering if she ought to offer wine to newlywed
guests instead.  She'd heard the new bed-and-breakfast on the other side of
Blue Devil Springs greeted every arrival with fresh-baked cookies and a
chilled bottle of Chablis.  If Hollo- way's Hideaway was going to make it
into the millennium, they might want to shake things up a bit.

Curling her bare toes along the edge of the coffee table, Nora sank back
with a sigh.  The millennium.  God, she was so tired of hearing that word.
As though just because a year started with a two instead of a one it was more
important, or carried some kind of magic.  She had a headache by the time the
festivities in Times Square peaked.  Larry was curled against her hip, and
Nora ran a hand through the dog's soft fur.  "You know what my New Year's
resolution is, Larry?

To stop watching Bill and Mary Bern.  " Outside, celebratory gunshots went
off again.  From the direction of town there came the zing!  of ascending
fireworks.  The one-minute countdown was on the television screen now.  Bill
and Mary Bern disappeared, giving way to wide views of the boisterous crowd,
but their voices continued to offer nonsense and excitement.  Thirty seconds.
Twenty- nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven--1999 was only moments away.  She
supposed it was an overactive imagination that made her stomach feel queasy
when the countdown was over, and the crowd in Times Square went wild.  There
were lots of shots of people kissing and yelling and waving frantically
toward the television cameras.  Bill and Mary Bern hugged each other as if
they actually meant it.  Nora closed her eyes against the sight of it all and
laid her head back against the couch cushion.  She hated the fact that 1999
was here at last.  Only twelve months until the year 2000.  She had thought
she'd be enjoying motherhood by that time, caught up in Tupperware parties
and PTA meetings.  She and Peter and her brother.  Trip, would have made
Holloway's Hideaway at Blue Devil Springs a premier resort destination, and
she would have managed all that around Little League and school plays.  It
wasn't a particularly grand or exciting life plan, but it had always seemed
perfect to Nora.  The most wonderful future any woman could imagine.  But
that dream had shattered five years ago, and whatever internal deadline she'd
planned for herself by the millennium was far out of reach.  Financially, the
Hideaway was barely hanging on.

Trip, frustrated by trying to make ends meet, had fought with her frequently
over selling the place.  Even the arrangement they'd come to, that she would
buy out his share of the Hideaway over a period of years, had not satisfied
him, and two months ago he had taken off to pursue his own dreams.  Peter and
little Jeremy William were lost to her.  And given the limited male
companionship she'd enjoyed in the last couple of years, not to mention that
old, ticking biological clock.  In the middle of the night, when she was
really honest with herself, that was the thing that hurt the most--the
thought of never having a baby of her own to love.  She had loved Peter, but
theirs had been a whirlwind courtship, and the marriage vows had barely been
spoken before the accident occurred.  She had mourned him, but the truth was,
she had hardly known him at all.  But the baby--Jeremy William would have
been the most desired, most treasured child in the world, and the knowledge
that Nora would never hold him in her arms, and perhaps no other as well.
How could she face the start of a new century without the hope of a baby in
her life?  The thought was unendurable.  Another bottle rocket went off in
the distance, and Larry growled low in his throat.  Nora drew a deep breath,
refusing to dwell on such dour thoughts.  She glanced toward the television
one last time, where the co hosts were laughing over the antics of people on
the street.  "Happy New Year, Bill and Mary Beth," Nora whispered.  A moment
later she sent them to oblivion and tossed the remote on the huge cypress
knee coffee table.  Larry growled again.  On her way back to the kitchen,
Nora stopped to listen.  Although it was nearly too faint to hear over the
crackling pop of distant fireworks, Nora was sure someone was knocking on the
front door.  Because of the hour and her present state of mind, she was
tempted to ignore the summons.  It seemed unlikely that one of her neighbors
had come by to wish her Happy New Year, and she wasn't expecting any late
arrivals.  The newlyweds had been her last hope for the weekend.  Still, she
pulled her housecoat over the long T-shirt she used for a nightgown.  If
someone wanted a bed for the night--had taken a wrong turn or broken down on
the road--she couldn't afford to refuse them.  Larry led the way to the
bolted double doors, his toenails clicking on the plank flooring as he woofed
threateningly.  Nora tightened the grip on the collar of her robe.

"Sorry.  We're not open," she called out as she flipped on the outside
lights.  "Not even for me?"  a feminine voice full of tentative humor asked.
Surprised, Nora slipped back the bolts and pulled one of the doors wide.
Isabel Petrivych had spent her college breaks for the past three years
working at the Hideaway, and although she wasn't expected back on the payroll
until spring break, she would always be a welcome visitor.  "Happy New Year,
Nora," the girl greeted brightly.  "Happy New Year to you, too.  What are you
doing here?"  Nora asked.  The girl's long black hair was unbound, falling in
an ebony waterfall over one shoulder.  She tossed it back in a reckless
gesture and grinned hopefully.  "I guess I didn't know where else to go."
They both jumped as the sudden pop-pop-pop of fireworks exploded in the night
sky.  "Why aren't you out partying?"  Nora asked as they watched the last
streamers of red and blue twinkle out of existence over the pines.

Isabel turned back to face her, and suddenly Nora caught the glimmer of tears
welling in the young woman's eyes.  "Partying is the last thing I should be
doing right now.  That's what got me into this mess.  I've been so stupid..."
Isabel's voice broke with emotion as she swiped the tear away with the back
of one hand.  She laughed, but the sound was choked, desolate.  Nora's heart
sank to the pit of her stomach as she gazed at that sweet, troubled face, and
when she spoke, she rushed into speech herself,

"Izzie, what is it?  What's happened?"  The girl shook her head, more wildly
this time.  "Oh, Nora, you're not going to believe this..."  She grimaced
shakily.  "I'm pregnant."

CHAPTER TWO

May 1999 the kid hadn't said a word in over two hundred miles.  Jake Burdette
slid another glance away from the road, just to make certain his son hadn't
fallen asleep or turned to stone or gone into some sort of cosmic trance.
Nope, Charlie was still with him all right, still seated in the front seat of
the car, still so uncommunicative Jake might as well have been keeping
company with an upscale kids'-store mannequin.  One twelve-year-old boy
dressed in clothes that were too tailored, a haircut that was too precise, a
suitcase that was too expensive and an adolescent chip on his shoulder as big
as a house.

Since the moment Jake had picked him up at Thea's in New York--his private
school term barely over--then flown down to Norfolk, and on to Orlando,
conversations between the two of them had been increasingly one-sided.
Nothing more than shrugs and grunts and a few uh-huhs ever since they'd hit
the interstate.  Not even the eye-popping excess of billboards advertising
Florida's theme parks got a reaction, and Jake's suggestion that someday they
might return for a trip to Walt Disney World was met with a complete lack of
interest.  Jake stifled a huge sigh and glanced out the window.  There was no
doubt that this little side trip to Florida had come at an inconvenient time
in Jake's life, a time when he really needed to focus all his attention on
Charlie.  But right now, he had to keep his promise to his brother.

And Florida wasn't that bad.  After inching through the traffic congestion of
Orlando, they'd headed north, past Thoroughbred country in Ocala, through the
long corridor of rolling land that made up Borida's panhandle.  The area made
you realize not all of the state had given way to the big developers.  It was
woodsy and wild, and it reminded Jake of some of the wonderful places his
grandfather had taken him and his brother, Bobby, camping in Virginia.  To a
spoiled snob of a city boy like Charlie, it must look like the backside of
the moon.

Maybe Jake should tell him about a few of those childhood trips.  They needed
to start someplace.  He opened his mouth to speak, but in that moment there
was the familiar sound of electronic music.  Charlie had pulled the video
game out of his backpack.  The kid could go hours on that thing.  So much for
a folksy tale to bond them together.  An hour later Jake pulled off the
interstate to gas up.  Charlie was still smashing invaders from some
high-tech planet--evidently meeting with success, if all the beeps and
metallic crashes emitting from the video game were any indication.  Still not
a word of conversation.  The only change in the boy's stony countenance was
the occasional frown of displeasure he gave the game in his hands.

Jake watched him covertly as he ran gas into the sports car's tank.  His son
had a sweet forehead, wide and unblemished and intelligent.  Without trying
very hard, Jake could remember when the boy was four and had suffered through
chicken pox-- chicken pops, he'd called them--and Jake had sat by the side of
his bed and stroked and stroked Charlie's forehead until the boy had
dropped into a restless sleep.  Where had all that trusting innocence gone?
He screwed the gas cap back into place and then leaned against the passenger
door.  "You want a soda from the machine?"  Still fighting his video war,
Charlie shook his head.  There was the descending sound of a sudden defeat,
and with a sigh of complete disgust, Charlie switched off the game and tossed
it into the back seat.  He stared out the front windshield.  "Sorry," Jake
said, guessing that he'd broken the boy's concentration, and therefore caused
him to lose the war.  Jake turned and headed toward the convenience store.
He seemed destined to remain on his son's enemy list.  But for how long?  How
long would it take to reestablish a relationship that had once been taken
for granted?  He couldn't give up.  Charlie was his now.  Thankfully, Thea
had seen the wisdom in avoiding an ugly court battle.  From the interstate
they bumped onto the cracked, paved road that led to Blue Devil Springs.
"Almost there," Jake remarked, trying for a cheerful tone.  No response.  No
surprise there.  "Look, Charlie... Charles,"

he corrected himself when the kid turned an annoyed glance his way.  ' "I
know you'd rather be back in New York with your mom.  I know you're angry
because you're with me now.  I don't expect you to understand all the reasons
behind that decision, but someday when you're old enough..."  He stopped.
God, he sounded so much like his father.  And the kid would resent a lecture.
A different approach was definitely in order.  "You know, after I take care
of business in Florida, and we get home to Norfolk, you might find you like
it.  It has beaches.  And we can go to the mountains, up to Washington..."
Again he stopped.  He sounded pathetic, trying to find favorable comparisons
between the two places.  He searched his son's profile, looking for some
chink in Charlie's armor and not finding any.  The kid's jaw was tight with
tension, and his gaze out the front window seemed impenetrable.  And then
suddenly the boy's mouth gaped open a little, and he muttered something
unintelligible under his breath.

Jake discovered why when he jerked his glance back to the road.  They'd
reached the town of Blue Devil Springs.  Town was probably too big a word for
the place.  It wasn't much.  A few cross streets made up all of the downtown
area, a collection of businesses that bore simple, unvarnished pronouncements
like Ed's Hardware, Painted Lady Antiques, the Cut 'n Curl, and a small
establishment called simply the Pork Store.  If Andy and Barney and the whole
Mayberry crowd had been looking for a place to retire, this could have been
it.  He drove slowly past the main intersection.  Looking closer, he saw that
Blue Devil Springs wasn't a complete loss.  There was a certain charm and
Southern grace about it.  There were lots of big oak trees dripping moss and
a pretty Victorian band shell in the center of a small park.

The grass there was green and lush.  It wasn't a ghost town bypassed by
progress.  The people on the streets looked energetic and involved in life,
and overall, the place had an open, friendly feel.  Beside him, Charlie was
still in a trance of stunned surprise.  "I know what you're thinking," Jake
said.  "Don't panic."  The boy rolled his eyes, but remained silent.  "I'm
getting hungry.  Let's see if we can find a place to get some food and
information."  They discovered some activity around what seemed to be the
only red brick building in town-- the Whispering River Cafe and Outfitter's
Post.  Colorful rows of kayaks and canoes leaned against the building, and
several huge tubs of dainty flowers led the way to the entrance.  The
interior of the store wasn't the dark, backwoods outpost Jack expected.  It
was bright, upscale, full of environmentally correct merchandise.  As Jake
led his son toward the back of the store where the cafe seemed to be, they
wove past listening posts of New Age music, stacks of camping gear and a
bulletin board fluttering with offers for guided float trips down the river.
The cafe was also a surprise.  The room was small, but bathed prettily in
mild sunlight coming through large arched windows.  Unframed artwork
decorated the walls.  There were leafy alcoves for privacy.  According to the
menu posted at the entrance, vegetarian dishes seemed to be the heavy
favorites.  They found a table for two against one wall.  Almost before they
sat down, a tall, good-looking fellow in jeans and a Save-The-Planet T-shirt
placed menus in front of them and promised to return in moments.  For the
first time, Charlie seemed to be interested in his surroundings, and Jake
realized it was the artwork that drew the kid's attention.  Charlie's gaze
traveled over the numerous canvases that lined the walls, then settled on the
one right beside their table.

And suddenly Jake could see what had caught the boy's interest.  Trendy as
the Whispering River might be, whoever had decorated the place had made one
huge mistake.  The artwork was awful.  Amateurish.  They were all oils, the
majority of them landscapes, but there wasn't a stroke of talent in any of
them that Jake could see.  Like Charlie, he peered closer at the one nearest
them.  It was a Florida beach at sunset--lifeless and boring, with wheeling
seagulls in the sky that looked unpleasantly like flying worms.  Jake's eyes
slid down to the artist's signature.  NLH, it said, and Jake noted that
several of the surrounding works bore those small slashing marks in the right
corner.

He hoped to heaven that NLH hadn't quit his day Job- He shook his head.

' "I guess now we know who actually buys all those Starving Artist
paintings," he muttered.  He hadn't expected a reaction from Charlie, so it
surprised him when the kid gave a little snort of amusement.  Not an all-out
laugh, really, but it was a more encouraging response than Jake had elicited
from the boy so far.  He said softly,

"You know, when you were five, you drew this great picture of a fish.  Your
mom put it on the refrigerator."  He motioned in the direction of NLH's
landscape.

"In a head-to-head comparison, I think yours is better.  At least I could
tell it was a fish."  Charlie turned his head to look at his father.  "Mom
still has that picture," he said coldly.  "It's in a box with a bunch of my
old stuff.  Guess that's all she's gonna have of me now."  Jake felt his
heart rate slow to a crawl.  So much for connecting.  One step forward.  One
step back.  "You'll still be visiting your mother."  Charlie's gaze was
openly dubious.  "You won't let that happen."

 "That's not true.   I want you to keep in contact.

But there have to be some guidelines to your visits.  She can't just.  there
has to be someone looking after you.  " Jake unfolded his napkin carefully
and placed it across his lap.  Criticizing Thea wouldn't accomplish a thing
except send Charlie further away.  Quietly he added, " Right now your
mother's career is very important to her, and she doesn't always think about
her responsibilities.  " " Like you thought about yours five years ago?  "
Jake lifted his head and met his son's eyes.  He wasn't in the mood for
apologies and justifications, but neither would he allow Charlie to believe
everything Thea had probably told him about his father.  " When your mother
and I broke up, I had a job that kept me out of the country for months on
end," he declared firmly.  " Bridge construction often takes place in
locations that barely have indoor plumbing.  I couldn't drag a little boy off
to an environment like that.  It seemed best to let your mother have full
custody.  She gave up modeling when she married me, and I had no idea she was
so involved again.  I thought"-- " She's famous," Charlie flared.  " She
doesn't need you for anything.  She's a super model, and everyone loves her.
" He turned his attention back to the painting on the wall, and Jake watched
while muscles jumped and twitched along the tight ridge of Charlie's
jawline.  The boy was right.  Everyone did love Thea.  If you could believe
half of what you read in the tabloids.  While heavily involved in rebuilding
the family construction company, Jake had heard all about his ex-wife's life.
The New York parties that ran until all hours of the night.  Rubbing elbows
with the Hollywood elite.  He was glad he wasn't part of that lifestyle, but
he'd never begrudged Thea any of it.

She'd always been a good mother.  There was never any mention of Charlie in
those tabloid stories and Jake had been confident his son was safe.  That
Thea had never drawn him into her social life.  Until he walked away from a
Nigerian newsstand six months ago with an American paper in his hands and saw
the media coverage of Thea's latest New York party.  A glittering montage of
celebrities and social arbiters all laughing, drinking, pressed close to one
another.  And in the middle of it all, his son Charlie.  He knew in that
moment that for four years he'd been fooling himself, and that as fathers
went, he'd been pretty damn negligent.  It was an interesting bit of irony to
discover that he'd failed miserably as a father on the same day that he was
to make a catastrophic mistake with his own brother as well.  That afternoon
Jake had been furious with Thea, and three telephone calls to his lawyer in
the States that wouldn't go through hadn't helped.  The hill crew had yet to
check in, and after the road foreman had asked a second time what they
should do about it, Jake had snapped at Bobby to take care of it.

Bobby, who'd never questioned a directive his older brother gave him.

Bobby, who had always looked up to him and counted on Jake.  The waiter
brought tall glasses of water to the table.  He didn't carry a pad to write
down orders, and the small badge over his left breast said his name was Ben.
Beneath it was a button that proclaimed,

"Yes, I'll remember what you want."

"The special today is sliced turkey on mixed rye and pumpernickel," he said
with a genuinely friendly smile.

"The soup is tomato bisque.  Can I get you something to drink?"

Charlie swung his attention from the painting on the wall and scowled up at
Ben.  "A blind man could paint better pictures than these!"

"Charlie!"  Jake snapped.  "Apologize."  He and Ben exchanged glances, and
Jake had the oddest notion that the man knew the boy's anger was not really
directed at him.  "No, that's all right," Ben countered.

"Everyone's an art critic.  To tell you the truth, I'm not that crazy about
them myself."  Then, with a wink, he added,

"But you ought to see the artist."  Charlie had subsided into sulky silence.
Jake tried to fill the void.  "Good-looking, huh?"

"Nora Holloway's one of the prettiest girls the Springs ever produced.   So
what if she ought to be painting barns instead of beaches?"   "So the owner
thinks he'll win her over if he buys a few of her paintings?"   "I'm the
owner," the waiter said with a light laugh.   "No, we tried a few years
back, but it was plain as pudding we didn't click.   So what can I get you
two?"   Jake ordered a rare burger, and Charlie asked for the special with
instructions on just how much mayonnaise he wanted on his sandwich and a
fussy inquiry as to the freshness of the lettuce.   Was it possible to get
alfalfa spouts instead?   Jake sat back in his chair and wondered when the
little boy who had eaten mud pies in the dirt had become so picky.   Silence
descended while they waited for their lunch.   Charlie took out a pen and
started doodling on the place mat--nesting circles with spikes along the
edges.   Jake hid his annoyance by studying NLH's painting again.   He hoped
Ben was right about her looks, because she sure as hell had no gift with
depth perception.   The meal came, and it looked delicious.   Without a word,
Ben went off to snag ketchup and mustard for Jake's burger.   A layer of
glistening hamburger juice covered the top of his bun, and Charlie's lip
curled in repulsion when his father made no attempt to pat it dry.   "Gross."
Then he sighed heavily.   "How long are we gonna stay in this place?"
"Just until we find the lady I told you about.   I promised Uncle Bobby I'd
find her, make sure she's all right.   I'm sorry the sitter fell through and
I had to drag you down here with me, but as soon as I take care of this,
we'll be on the next plane out.

Unless you'd like to have a little vacation.  School's over.  We could kick
back and do some fishing.  " Charlie looked horrified.  " That's your idea of
a vacation?  Fishing?  " " We'd do what you want to as well, of course.  What
did you do on your last vacation?  " " Mom took me siding in Switzerland.  We
stayed with an Italian count.  " Charlie's mouth quirked.  " In a castle.  "
Jake didn't care to admit that even though he could speak fluent Italian and
had been around the world more times then he could remember, he'd never
learned to ski.  Thankfully, Ben returned to the table, placed the condiments
in front of Jake and then rocked back on his heels.  " Everything look okay?
" Jake nodded around a mouthful of burger.  With one hand, he motioned Ben to
stay.

Taking a swallow of iced tea, he asked,

"I wonder if you'd know a woman in town named Isabel Petrivych?  Not a
full-time resident.  Her friends at college say she comes up here quite a bit
to work for some hotel during school breaks."

 "Hotel?"   Ben echoed with a shake of his head.

"There aren't any once you get away from the interstate."

"I only met her once, but she's attractive--dark hair, dark eyes, a slight
Slavic accent.   By now she must be noticeably pregnant and" -- "You mean
Izzie?"   Ben interrupted with a sudden grin.   "Yeah, I know her.   And
she's more than 'noticeably' pregnant.   She's about six months gone."   "Do
you know where I can find her?"   "Anyone in Blue Devil Springs can tell you
where to find her.   She and Nora have got this town buzzing, what with their
plans for the baby."   "Nora?"   Jake prompted.   The inquiries he'd made to
find Isabel hadn't mentioned the involvement of another woman.

Ben pointed toward the painting on the wall.  "NLH.  Nora Lyn Holloway.

She and her brother own Holloway's Hideaway about three miles down the road.
Their cabins are built around the headwaters of Blue Devil Springs.  Once it
boils out of the ground, it feeds into three rivers.

Cleanest in the state, and you've never seen prettier.  " Jake put down his
burger to give all his attention to Ben.  " And this woman is helping Isabel
with her pregnancy?  " " More than that, from what I hear.

The two of them have met with Nora's lawyer and are ironing out the final
plans.  " " Final plans for what?  " " Adoption.  " Ben tossed a look over
his shoulder, conscious of other diners waiting.  " Can I get you two
anything else?  " Charlie shook his head.  " No, thanks," Jake replied
absently.  Uneasiness clogged his throat, and he suddenly felt his appetite
vanish.  Absently he watched his iced-tea glass sweat a water ring on his
place mat.  Adoption for Bobby's child?  Jake had never considered that
possibility.

As little as he knew of Isabel, he'd assumed she planned to keep the baby.
That meant the child could be told about his father.  Adoption, on the other
hand, would effectively sever the link to Bobby.  Jake didn't like the sound
of it at all.  The remainder of the meal passed without incident and in
silence.  Jake left a generous dp on the table and took the bill up to the
register, where Ben was doing double duty as the cashier.  Ben handed Jake
his change.  "Thanks for coming in."

"There is one more thing I need, if you don't mind," Jake said.

"Directions."

"Sure.   Where you want to go?"   Jake inclined his head toward one of the
paintings directly behind the cashier station.

"NLH.

Where do I find her?  " halfway to a sitting position, Isabel groaned and
shook her head.  She fell back on her elbows.  Nora smiled encouragingly,
though she had just finished a punishing series of situps herself.  This
would never do.  Isabel had managed only ten easy crunches today, and if they
were going to keep to Dr. Brewster's recommended regimen of exercise for
expectant mothers, they had to do better than this.  Drawing her legs up so
that she could rest her chin on her knees, Nora eyed the girl speculatively.
Isabel was a brilliant medical student.  Someday she'd make a wonderful
doctor.  But she was one stubborn pregnant woman.

"Come on, Iz," Nora pressed.  "You can do it.  One more time."  They were
seated on the huge Indian rug that lay in front of the resort's registration
desk.  Throwing Nora one last sullen look, Isabel maneuvered backward until
her spine was against the wall of the desk.

"I don't want to," she replied, crossing her arms across her breasts.

"Of course you don't.  But you need to.  Remember what Dr. Brewster said?
Strengthening your abdominal muscles will" -- "--make the delivery easier,"
Isabel finished for her.  "Yes, I know, and I don't care.  No more crunches
today."

"It'll also make it easier to get your figure back after the baby's born.
You want that, don't you?"   Isabel cast a disgusted glance downward.   "Too
late.   It will never come back."   "I'll do them with you."   "That doesn't
make me feel any better.   You sit there looking like a model on a workout
video, while I look like I've swallowed a basketball."   "No, you don't.
You look beautiful," Nora said and meant it.   "Glowing."   "It's the sweat"
-- The girl's face suddenly transformed to surprise, and her hands flew
upward to clutch her stomach.   "Oh!"   Nora moved to Isabel's side quickly.

"What's the matter?"

"The baby kicked really hard."   She massaged the swell of her abdomen,
grinned sheepishly after a long moment, then captured Nora's fingers in
hers.   "Give me your hand."   At first Nora felt nothing.   Then suddenly,
beneath the thin material of Isabel's blouse, she felt the slight roll of the
baby as it shifted in the womb.   It was such a small thing, no more than a
sliding pressure against her fingertips, but it stalled Nora's breath in her
throat.   She lifted her eyes to Isabel and smiled.   "So strong," she said.
Her fingers tingled, eager to feel that movement yet again, but the baby had
settled down, and the jump of life had disappeared.   "Is it wonderful to
feel him move inside you?"   "No.   It's unnerving.

Scary.  Like an alien creature is trying to take over my body.  "

Catching sight of Nora's budding frown, she added,

"Don't look so upset.  Not every woman instinctively longs to have a baby,
you know."

"You might learn to love him as you reach your due date."  "I won't,"

Isabel said in such a precise, cool way that Nora's frown deepened.  The girl
scooped a handful of dark hair away from her face and flung it back over one
shoulder.  "I don't see motherhood the same way you do, Nora.  I've never
wanted children, and God knows, I had even less reason to want this child
after I spoke to Bobby in December."  Five months ago, when Nora had found
Isabel at her front door, the girl had tearfully confessed that a two-day
love affair with a young engineer on his way to a job overseas had produced a
child.  But when she'd called him in Nigeria to give him the news, the jerk
had encouraged her to have an abortion, even volunteering to send the
necessary funds by Western Union.  Horrified by the suggestion,-Isabel had
told him just what she thought of that idea and then fled to the only person
she knew she could turn to and trust with her secret--Nora.

"I made such a horrible mistake," Isabel continued with a rueful shake of her
head.  "Don't say that."

"It's true.   My parents had such high hopes for me.   I am the oldest
child.   They saved for years to give me a good education in America."
Isabel dropped her head, her gaze fastened on her swollen stomach.   "If they
knew--if I wrote and confessed how I have disappointed them..."   "You could
never disappoint them," Nora said.   She reached for Isabel's hand, drawing
the girl's eyes upward again.   "They love you.   Perhaps you should give
them the chance to show you how much."   "No," Isabel replied firmly.   "This
is what's best for everyone.   Bobby and I got carried away by a night filled
with too many stars and two many glasses of wine.   I've seen what happens to
children whose only mistake in life is to be born in the wrong place at the
wrong time.   I can't do that to a child."   They had argued this point more
than a few times.   Isabel was determined to give the baby up for adoption.
She had very clearly defined career goals to become a doctor and the tenacity
to make them a reality.   Her parents had sent her to the United States for
an education in the hopes that she would return to her war-torn homeland to
help rebuild it.   It was a noble, lofty ambition, and it would not be an
easy life.   Especially for a young woman with a small child.   "It doesn't
have to be that way.   You don't have to go back to Bosnia."   ' "Yes, I do.
I owe it to my family.   And my country."   "Izzie, what if" -- "No," Isabel
cut in.   "I've made up my mind, and I'm not going to change it.   I deliver
a healthy baby and begin my internship at BlakelyForbes, and you become the
wonderful mother you were always meant to be."   The mother you were meant to
be.   The words settled around Nora's heart, full of unbelievable good
fortune and frightening possibilities.   Could it really be so easy for her
to become a mother at last?   Two months ago, after the prenatal visit that
had confirmed the baby's sex as a boy, Isabel had suddenly posed the idea,
one she'd evidently been considering for some time.   They had been having
lunch at the Whispering River.   Nora had just slipped a bite of chicken
salad onto her fork, and Isabel's words stilled her hand in midair.   "I
would like you to adopt my baby."   The cafe was noisy, full of diners, and
Nora shook her head, not sure she'd heard correctly.   "What?"

"I'd like you to adopt my baby."

"You aren't serious."   "Don't say no right away," Isabel added quickly.
"Just think about it."   "There's nothing to think about.   It's impossible."
"Why?"   "It just is."

"Why?  Because you're not married?  Single women have been adopting children
for some time now.  Many come from my own country--out of orphanages where
they would surely have died.  At least in this case you'd know who the mother
was, and I can promise you, in spite of the fact that Bobby doesn't want the
baby, he comes from a good family.

Virginians.  Aren't those founding fathers or something?  " Nora shook her
head, knowing that her gaze on Isabel must be incredulous.  " Izzie, I can't
adopt your baby.  " Isabel set her water glass down and looked back at her
with clear, determined eyes.  " Nora, for as long as I have known you it has
been your dream to have a child.  Why not my baby?

Give me reasons.  " It was crazy.  Too fast.  She couldn't just adopt her
friend's child.  Could she?  The answer was yes, according to Nora's family
attorney, John Forrester.  Nora, who had greeted the new year certain that
she was destined to remain childless for life, could be celebrating next
Christmas as a mother.  The idea--so frightening, so wonderful--had taken
hold and now had such a tight grip on her senses that most nights Nora could
hardly sleep for thinking of all the ways she would love this child.  Isabel
drew her attention back to the present with a touch of her hand.  " Nora,"
she said softly.  " Have you changed your mind?  Do you not want this child?
" Nora's stomach was full of sudden butterflies, but she responded in a low,
unshakable voice.  " I want this child with all my heart.  " Isabel smiled.
" Then together we will make it happen.  " With a toss of her head she
climbed carefully back to her feet, dragging Nora with her.  " Now, please,
no more torture today.  Ten crunches are enough.  " " All right," Nora
conceded as she slipped back into her sneakers.  " But twice as many
tomorrow.  " Brushing wisps of hair out of her eyes, Nora tightened the
ponytail at the back of her neck.  Isabel toed the rug back into order where
it had bunched up, while Nora maneuvered two enormous leather chairs back
into place.  Placing them at just the right angle, she glanced out the wide
front window, past the front driveway and the narrow grassy slope where
railroad-tie steps led down to the spring pool.  Through the trees, the water
was no more than a cool, inviting glimpse of crystalline blue.  It was still
a little too chilly for swimming.  Memorial Day really kicked off the
beginning of summer, and right now there was no movement down there.

Not even a canoe sliced through the water of the river.

Nora cut her eyes to the left, down the line of Cabins One through Three,
where the Hideaway's only guests, a couple from New Orleans, had checked into
Cabin Two a couple of days ago.  "The Pullmans' car is gone.  Wonder where
they're off to."

"Oh," Isabel said from behind the registration desk.   "I knew I forgot to
tell you something."   When Nora swung around, she grimaced and said,

"They checked out."  Nora frowned.

"When?"  "While you were fixing the air conditioner in Cabin Six."

"That's a day early.  Did they say why?"

"Mr.   Pullman said his office called unexpectedly."   Isabel wrinkled her
nose, clearly indicating she doubted that story.   "Mrs.   Pullman said the
quiet made it impossible for them to sleep at night."   "Damn," Nora
muttered.   She walked to the front of the registration desk, leaned over the
counter and pulled the reservation book in front of her.   What she saw there
didn't make her feel any better.   "We don't have anyone else booked until
Friday."

Determinedly optimistic, Isabel rushed into speech.  "Unless we get a
walk-in, that gives us three days to relax.  You can paint, and I can soak in
the tub.  Try to get my belly to stop itching."  She must have seen something
in Nora's face, because her tone became anxious.

"What's the matter?"  Nora's breath escaped in one long sigh.  "Izzie, I
can't provide a good home for the baby if the Hideaway continues to lose
money this way.  Cabin Six is going to need a new compressor.  Four has a
water leak in the bathroom, and I'll be darned if I can find it."  With a
flick of her wrist, Nora turned the reservation book around so that Isabel
could see as she flipped through the pages, stopping on the weeks of June,
July and August.  Too many blank spaces where names ought to be.  "The summer
should be completely booked by now."  She shut the book with a snap, leaning
dejectedly against the counter.  "Maybe Trip is right," she said almost to
herself, remembering the last argument she'd had with her brother.  ' "Maybe
it's time to sell the place."  Isabel gasped.  "You don't want to do that.
You love the Hideaway."

"I do.   And I'd eat bread and water before I'd let it go.   But a baby
needs things, expensive things..."   "The baby needs someone to love him.
And that he will have.

You mustn't give in to Trip's demands.  He has his own selfish reasons for
wanting you to sell.  " Nora smiled at her.  Isabel made no secret of her
opinion of Trip.  " I know he's not without his faults, but he's still my
brother and the only family I have left.  " " Better to be completely on your
own, perhaps," Isabel grumbled.  Nora decided to ignore that remark.  How
could Isabel hope to understand the relationship Nora shared with her
brother?  The girl had grown up in a large family, with so many siblings
jockeying for position, vying for their parents' attention.  But childhood
had been completely different for Nora and Trip.  The Hideaway had gone
through years of financial difficulties, and although loving, Nora's parents
had been too busy trying to keep the family business afloat to spend much
time catering to the whims of their children.  Trip had been a demanding
baby, and Nora, a lonely little girl of eight had gladly taken on the task of
looking after him.  Through sickness and poor grades and driving lessons, he
had relied on her, and though Trip was spoiled and self-centered at times,
Nora still thought of him as the scared little boy who needed her.  It was
probably too late to change the way Trip was, but was it too late to change
her life?  Was she only hanging on to the Hideaway out of stubbornness?
Since her father had died, six years ago, and her mother shortly after that
the profits had grown smaller and smaller each year.  Bracing her head on her
arms, she grimaced.  " I don't know, Iz.  Maybe it's just time to"-- " Oh,
no!  "

Nora straightened.  Isabel's face had gone white.  "What's the matter?

Is it the baby again?  "

" Oh, it can't be.   What is he doing here?   "

"Who?"  The girl gripped Nora's forearms tightly.  "I can't see him.  I
won't."  Her frightened eyes flew to the window.  "Don't let him see me.
Don't even tell him I'm here."

"Who?"   Nora asked, a bud of panic beginning to bubble to the surface of
her own senses.   While she stood in stunned silence, Isabel practically
leaped from behind the registration desk and disappeared through the doorway
that led to the private quarters of the lodge.   "Where are you going?"
Nora called after her.   "Izzie, for Pete's sake, don't tell who" -- A car
door slammed, and Nora whirled to look out the front window.   A car had
pulled into the semicircular driveway, and a man was just coming around the
front of the vehicle.   In the passenger seat, Nora caught a glimpse of a
young boy, but her gaze quickly swung back to the man.   She lost him for a
moment when he reached the front doors.   That damned beveled glass!   It
turned his body into nothing but cuts and angles.   Then he was inside,
walking toward her in a purposeful stride.   He didn't look dangerous.
Determined, maybe.   Nora could see the hard set of his chin, the way his
eyes scanned one side of the room and then the other before fixing steadily
on her.   For no reason she could name, Nora suddenly wished that she was
dressed in her three-piece suit, the one she'd worn to theIRS audit last
year.   Only this guy didn't look like an auditor, or any kind of government
employee for that matter.   His clothes were too casual, his tan was too dark
and his golden-brown hair a little too long to meet any policy manual's
expectations.   He had strong features--the kind of genetic marvel that great
ancestry could bestow upon a person.   Any woman would want to know more
about this man.   So why was Isabel so-- Realization dawned about the same
time that the man came to a halt directly in front of Nora.   Even in her
advanced stage of pregnancy Isabel was gregarious, outgoing.   She'd never
have run away from a great-looking guy like this.   Unless.   This man had to
be the father of her child.

The irresponsible, insensitive Bobby.  He was older than Nora expected, but
it had to be him.  Nora's heart bumped a little--the man was wonderful to
look at--but she ignored it.  Whatever reason Bobby had decided to show up on
their doorstep now, Nora's allegiance lay with Isabel.  And the baby.  Her
baby.

CHAPTER THREE jake could tell right away that the woman was going to be
difficult.  He didn't know what he had done to put her off him so fast, but
he didn't much care.  He gave her a once-over look meant for intimidation.
"Can I help you?"  she asked.  Her words were pieces of crystal.  He kept his
own tone firm, but pleasant.  "I hope so.  I'm looking for a young woman
named Isabel Petrivych."

 "Isabel Petrivych,"

the woman repeated slowly, as though trying the name on for size.  Then she
shook her head.  "I'm sorry" -- "Ben at the Whispering River Cafe told me I
could find her here."  That threw her, he could tell.  She wasn't a very good
liar.  The base of her neck went pink, and she swallowed, trying to regroup
like an actress who realized she'd just muffed a line.  "Oh.  Well, Isabel
was here.  But she's not now."

"That's odd.  I thought I saw her as I was coming up the walkway."  Jake
jerked his head toward the wide picture window.  "It's a pretty good view
from the front driveway."

"You must have been mistaken.  It's just me here today."  The cool flatness
of her tone irritated him.  His eyes narrowed, taking in her sleek, toned
length.  The electric-blue leotard did marvelous things for her body--and a
few unexpectedly pleasant things to his.  He looked away, annoyed that he was
noticing how attractive she was when he was trying so hard to be imposing.
"So you're working out alone."

 "Yes."

"But Isabel will be back."  He made it a statement, not a question.

"Who knows?"

"I'm betting she will be," Jake replied with a tight smile.   He bent to
retrieve a pair of sneakers that lay on the floor nearby.   They were small,
and even though he'd met Isabel only once, he distinctly remembered her as
petite.   "She might need these," he said, taking a chance.   When the woman
looked momentarily stunned, and then opened her mouth to speak, he shook his
head and tossed the sneakers on the desk.   "Don't bother.   You're at least
a size eight."   "Seven, actually."   He started to smile at the response,
then caught himself.

"Look, I don't know you, or why you and Isabel have decided to play this
little game" -- "I'm Nora Holloway.  I own this place."

 "Ah, yes.

NLH.  The artist.  "

" I beg your pardon?   "

"I saw your paintings at the cafe.  Ben was right."  "About what?"

"You are pretty."  It was her torn to look annoyed, which was a shame because
the compliment had been a sincere one.  The generous mouth, large, brown
eyes--the bones in her face were the kind you wanted to linger on.  He liked
the thick auburn ponytail that swayed back and forth over her shoulder, and
that cute little trio of freckles across her collarbone.  Too bad she was
turning out to be such a royal pain in the butt.  "Mr.,.."

"Burdette."   "Mr.   Burdette," Nora Holloway said succinctly.   "I've told
you that Isabel isn't here.   I don't know when she'll be back, so there's
really no point in waiting."   "All right.

Then I'll need to rent a cabin for the night.  " " There isn't one available.
" Jake turned to gaze out the front window again.  " Looks pretty quiet out
there," he observed.  He pointed toward the wooden Vacancy sign that sat only
a few feet away from his rental car, then smiled back at Nora.  " And that's
not what your sign says.  " " We don't rent by the night.  There's a three-
night minimum.  " " Three nights will be fine, then.  " The pinkening at her
throat had gone to red, but she managed to harpoon him with an arctic glare.
" Actually, we're closed.  The season hasn't officially started yet.  " He
fished out his wallet and placed two one- hundred-dollar bills on the desk.  "
Then maybe I can give you a reason to open up early, t/nofficially.  " Those
dark eyes were smoldering now, and he knew that the offer of money had
insulted her.  The thin sheet of glass that had sprung up between them when
they'd met had turned into solid steel.  " You're wasting your time," she
said coldly.  " And mine.  " He was raw and improvising and suddenly out of
patience.  " We're in agreement there, lady, so listen up.  I've come a long
way to see Isabel, and I'm not going home until I do.  " " Well, you can't
stay here.  " " Well, I think I'll wait, all the same.  " He turned away from
her, feigning interest in a wall covered with scattered pictures.  The
photographs looked as if they dated from the Eisenhower administration.
Grainy, black-and-white, but all of them obviously taken nearby.  " How's the
fishing around these parts?  "

he asked as he peered at a young boy holding up a good-size catfish for the
camera.  "It's good.  If you know what you're doing."

"Who's this?"   He tapped the picture glass.   "My grandfather."   She gave
him a put-upon look.   "As an innkeeper, I have the right to refuse anyone"
He swung back to face her.   "Look, I'm tired.   I've just spent five hours
cramming my six-foot, two-inch body in a roller skate of a sports car because
my son liked the looks of it better than a roomy sedan.

He's out in the car, by the way, and if you think I'm unbearable, you ought
to take him on.  The point is, I'm not getting in that toy and heading back
to the interstate.  Not when there are perfectly good accommodations right
here.  " " I don't want to call the sheriff, but" The door beside the
registration desk, previously half-closed, suddenly flew back, and Isabel
Petrivych appeared in the doorway.  " Oh, stop.  Enough!  " she gasped out.
There was a long moment of silence, then Nora Holloway took a step in her
direction.  " Izzie.  " The girl's eyes were fixed on Jake.  Her bottom lip
disappeared between her teeth for a moment, then she said softly,

"You wanted to see me.  Here lam."  She hadn't changed much since he'd met
her last year.  Except for the pregnancy, of course.  She still had deep blue
eyes and long, dark hair that curled attractively down her back.  Bobby had
always been a sucker for women with hair like that, and Jake had guessed the
moment his brother had introduced them that there might be more between them
than just two people who'd met at the same political rally.  However, he'd
never expected it to amount to anything.  Bobby was leaving with Jake for
Africa in a matter of days.  They were going to build a bridge between two
warring townships in the hill country, in a place so hot that the wind
smelled like fire.  The government had promised protection; the bridge was
seen as a symbol of progress in the peace talks, and Jake had kidded Bobby
unmercifully about being eager to see how his brother fared living in a place
where the nearest comforts of home were miles and miles away.  The bridge was
up and in use now.

Shining hotly in the naked sun, forged together with a fair amount of tears
and sweat .  and blood.  He'd brought Bobby's body home, and now he needed to
do this one thing for his brother.  "You have seen me,"

Isabel said.  "Now you can leave."  "No," Jake replied.  "I can't."

"Why have you come here?  I want nothing from you."

"I want to make sure that you're all right.   That you aren't alone and" --
"I'm not alone.   I have Nora to help me."   He was aware of the Holloway
woman moving forward, as though responding to some unspoken cue.   He
resented it, that little movement to protect Isabel.   As though he could
ever be a danger to the girl who carried in her womb all that was left of his
brother.   He ignored her, keeping his attention focused on Isabel.   "We
need to talk," he said firmly.   "Just the two of us."   "There is nothing
left to say."   "The hell there isn't."   He crossed the room in long, easy
strides, but before he reached Isabel, Nora Holloway moved between them.
"There are decisions that need to be made."   "And I have made them," Isabel
snapped.   "Go away!"   Nora's hand was suddenly on his chest.   It was such
a small, graceful hand, but it felt like a barrier of steel against his
shirt.   He frowned down at her, and something crossed her face that Jake
hadn't seen in her eyes before.

Genuine anger, iron determination .  something.  "Don't get in the middle of
this," he said finally.  It was clear she intended to ignore that advice.
"Isabel's past the stage where the baby can be aborted, if that's what you
had in mind."  That statement surprised him a little.  So she knew about
Bobby's foolish response to Isabel's news.

What else did she know?  "That was a mistake" -- "It certainly was.  And
you're not going to come into my home and upset Isabel with any other
solutions you think might ease your conscience."  She shook her head, and her
eyes were filled with disgust.  "You ought to be ashamed--coming here now.
Where were you when she needed you the most?"  Jake jerked back.  "Wait a
minute.  You think" -- "No, you wait a minute," she said, advancing on him a
little.  "Isabel doesn't deserve this.  Only the worst kind of bastard would
turn his back on a woman carrying his child" -- "Nora" -- Isabel began.

"Miss Holloway" -- "--and if you think you can make things right now, you're
in for a big surprise."  Jake took a step back.  "So are you.

Miss Holloway, I'm not the father of Isabel's child.  " The woman's mouth
tightened.  " So now you want to deny that you're the father?  I suppose we
should have expected that.  " He looked over at Isabel again, searching for
help.  The girl moved forward to touch Nora's elbow.

"Nora," she said softly.  "This isn't Bobby.  This is his older brother.
Jake."  The Holloway woman's fierce expression melted a little; her eyes lost
their fervor.  Her hand came off Jake's chest as though it had been singed.
"Oh."  A tenuous smile tried to form, but it failed miserably and then
disappeared.  "I'm sorry.  I thought" "Yes, I know what you thought.  That's
part of the reason I'm here.  To clear up a few things."  To Isabel he said,

"I'd just like to talk to you.  That's all."  Isabel's mouth was still a
slash of displeasure, but after a long silence she nodded.  Nora picked up on
this small signal and moved away from Jake.  "I think I should leave you two
alone," she said, then added quickly,

"Isabel, I'll be in the rehab shed if you need me."

"Thank you," Jake began.   But Nora Holloway was already out the front door,
a bright blue blur.

with the last level of Space Scow conquered, Charlie sat in the car and
stared down at the video game in his hands.  "/ hate him," he muttered to
himself.  Well, maybe hate was too strong a word.  He really didn't know the
guy well enough to hate him.  Dislike, maybe.

Yeah, that was it.  Intense dislike.  You couldn't burn in hell if you only
disliked your father, could you?  He'd have to ask Mansela, his mother's
housekeeper.  The old woman was Catholic and knew everything there was to
know about God and what he'd let you get away with.  She'd know whether
Charlie was in big trouble or not.  If he ever saw her again.  Which might be
never, now that his father had taken him away from his mother.  No.  Stolen!
That was the word.  What was that phrase he'd heard somewhere.  ?  Like a
thief in the night.  Yeah, that was the way it had been.  Only his father had
come to his mother's Manhattan apartment in broad daylight, and his mother
hadn't been weeping and wailing and carrying on about the loss of her son.
Thea was much too dignified for that, and crying only made you look foolish,
she'd once told him, so he really hadn't expected her to try to stop his
father.  She had other ways to deal with him.  Charlie was sure she had an
armload of lawyers looking over their new custody agreement right now,
finding a way to get him back to New York and.  and civilization.  Away from
here.  This place was creepy.  Too quiet.  Lots of dark wood and hanging
moss.  All the little cabins made it look like a ranch, but there wasn't a
single horse or cowboy in sight.  Maybe he'd get out of the car and poke
around.  Or maybe not.

Who knew what was out there?  He was comfortable in the city, where the
doorman always looked out for him, and security cameras were in every
corridor of the apartment building.  Here, there could be grizzly bears in
the woods that surrounded the main house.  The idea made him shiver, so he
forced himself to think about his mother.  He pictured her missing him in New
York--with no one but her personal assistant, Anthony, and Marisela to talk
to in the apartment.  No one to ask her how the latest photo shoot went and
actually care about her answer.  He looked out the car window, growing more
impatient by the minute.  He sure hoped they weren't going to stay in this
dump for the night.  nora slowed her pace as she went down the front steps of
the lodge, giving herself time to regather her composure.  Her breath was
captured inside her like a square, solid box pressing against her rib cage.
Her cheeks felt fiery, and she turned her face into the exquisite relief of a
passing breeze.  She'd never been much of a fighter.  Never confrontational.
Even as a child she'd been the peacemaker in the family.  So what had she
been doing just now?  Lying through her teeth to a total stranger.  Hearing
her voice get higher and higher as she became more and more defensive.
Ready to lay a flying tackle on this interloper if he so much as lifted a
threatening finger in Isabel's direction.

Even now, the adrenaline was still pumping, pumping in her veins, until she
felt almost light-headed with the force of it.  And why--for God's sake?  She
felt silly, embarrassed by the assumptions she'd made about Jake Burdette in
there.  Not the father, but the baby's uncle.  He must think she was an
idiot.  Oh, it was comical, really.  Only she didn't feel like laughing.  Not
at all.  Beneath all the feelings of humiliation and stupidity lay a tiny
trickle of fear, slipping through her insides, leaving her cold and
frightened.  Why was he here?  What did he want?  Why now, when she'd just
begun to really believe that her life could be different, that her life could
be made up of all the wonderful things she'd ever dared to dream about.  John
Forrester was drawing up the necessary paperwork.  A safe delivery.  A
petition to the court.  A few signatures.  Then the dream of motherhood would
become a reality.  Deliberately she settled on the bottom step and drew in a
deep lungful of air.  Okay, she told herself, okay.  Burdette's coming here
today didn't have to be a bad sign.  It didn't mean he was here to effect
some sort of reconciliation between Isabel and his brother.  He was probably
just trying to do the right thing by her even if his younger brother
wouldn't.  Maybe he planned to give her some money.  Pay her doctor bills.
Offer her a place to stay until the baby came.

Yes, that was why he was here.  He looked like a man who took his
responsibilities seriously.  And in spite of that aggressive attitude, he had
kind eyes--the soft hazel of autumn leaves.  A man with eyes like that
wouldn't hurt you, not deliberately.  She had to remain positive, upbeat.
Closing her eyes, she willed herself to focus on the images nearest her
heart--the baby.  What he would feel like in her arms.  His sweet smell, the
softness of his hair, the whisper of his breath as she held him against her
neck.  Was there anything more heavenly than that?  -- "Is my father ever
coming out?"  Nora opened her eyes.  A boy squinted down at her, his hands
fisted on his hips, a look of pure annoyance etched across his childish
features.  He wasn't a bad-looking kid, but he was clearly in the pit-bull
jaws of adolescence--no patience with adults and little desire to develop any.

Nora stood, brushing off the seat of her leotard.  In spite of his preppy,
clean-cut appearance, the boy looked tired, and Jake Burdette lost a point in
her parenting manual.  "Your dad might be a little while.  Would you like to
come for a walk with me?"

"Why should I?   I don't even know you."   She stuck out a hand.   "Nora
Holloway.   I own this place."   He took her fingers in a reluctant
handshake.   "Why?"   he asked in a voice richly steeped in sarcasm.   It
looked as though the kid had inherited some of his father's manner.   Nora
didn't rise to the bait.   She'd spent too many years winning over
unenthusiastic boys and girls who had been dragged to the Hideaway by parents
who were determined that they experience "the Great Outdoors."   She smiled
at him.   "Not your kind of place, huh?"   "Not in a million years."   "Oh,
well.   Do you like animals?"   He shrugged.   "I guess."   "I have a shed
behind the main lodge where I take care of wild animals that have been
injured.   Want to see it?"   "Not really."   With overt disinterest, he
plucked a handheld video game out of his back pocket and began a slow march
back to the car.   She wondered if Jake Burdette knew what a poor job he'd
done in raising his son.   "Well, you're on your own, then," she called after
him.   "So long."   She didn't look back as she walked behind the main lodge,
but she could feel the boy surreptitiously watching her.

He might not want to acknowledge it, but she suspected he had a kid's natural
curiosity about where she was headed and what she was doing.

Her spirits lifted a little as she trooped down the short, grassy pathway
that led to the building at the edge of the woods.  The rehabilitation work
she did with the animals in the shed usually took all her concentration.
Maybe it would help keep her mind off Jake Burdette and what he might be
saying to Isabel right this moment.  As kids, Nora and Trip had cobbled
together a playhouse from scrap lumber, setting it far enough away from the
main lodge to escape their parents' watchful eyes.  Five years ago, enlisting
almost no outside help, Nora had expanded the playhouse, turning the modest
structure into a rehab station that could house a small number of wounded
animals.  As a wildlife rehabilitator licensed by the state of Florida, she
usually had half a dozen patients, but right now there were only four, with
an eagle scheduled to come in from a nearby vet's office sometime soon.  The
door to the shed creaked a little as she opened it, announcing her arrival to
her charges.  There were screeches and the nutter of wings from the cages
holding an orphaned crow named Jeckle and a mockingbird named Begger, a
chattering trill from Bandit, a raccoon who'd suffered numerous cuts when
he'd been mauled by a dog, and a sniff of interest from the direction of
Marjorie's pen.  "Hello, you guys," Nora said softly as she moved down the
line of cages.  "How are you doing today?"  The windows in the shed were
small, but the sunlight sifting through them was strong enough for Nora to
see that each of the animals was faring well.  Within the next two weeks,
they would all be able to be returned to the nearby national forest.  Even
Marjorie.  It was with some reluctance that Nora moved closer to the pen
where the deer was penned.  She knew she'd made a mistake with the fawn, an
unforgivable error for a rehabber to make.

Marjorie's mother had been killed on the road, and the animal had been
brought to her when she'd been hardly old enough to stand, malnourished and
soaking wet.  Nora had bottle-fed her, had wrapped her in blankets and
stroked her for hours until the poor thing had stopped shivering.

The fawn's sweet brown eyes had looked up at her defenselessly, trustingly,
as though she knew Nora was trying to save her life but didn't know what to
do to help.  And in that moment, Nora had done something every rehabber was
supposed to avoid at all costs-- she had fallen in love with one of her
charges.  The fawn needed her as no other animal had.  Nora brought the
creature back from the brink of death at least half a dozen times during
those first few days.  In the first critical week, she had spent more time
out here on a cot in the shed than in her own bed.  But gradually the fawn
had begun to rally and thrive.  Now, after six months, she was ready to be
reintroduced to the wild.  Nora knew in her heart it was past time, really.
If she kept Marjorie much longer, the deer would lose all her instincts for
survival.  Nora moved to the pen's entrance, but went no farther.  Too often
the deer had lifted her head over the edge of the door for a scratch, or had
taken food from Nora's hand.  Exhibiting such tame and trusting behavior was
sweet and desirable in a deer park, but unacceptable for a wild animal.
Knowing she was responsible for this kind of human imprinting, Nora was doing
her best to reestablish some boundaries between the two of them.

The deer ran her body against the wire pen, obviously hoping for a friendly
rub.  Nora backed away.  "I'm sorry, little girl," she said.

"No more human contact.  You've got to stay wild."  As though disappointed,
the fawn snorted noisily, then wandered to the back of the pen to paw through
the hay.  She looked so healthy now, muscled, sleek, with none of the nicks
and scars so many deer in the woods suffered.  Nora watched the animal for a
long time, wondering where she'd find the strength to send her off to join
others of his kind.

While Nora stood there silently asking how she could have allowed herself to
make such a mistake with Marjorie, she became aware of another presence.
Actually, she heard the boy long before he appeared in the open doorway of
the shed.  He walked like a city kid--noisily, with total disregard for the
beauty of the silence and his surroundings.  From the corner of her eye she
saw him move tentatively forward, inspecting the place.  Without glancing his
way, Nora pulled a bale of hay off the small stack the feed store had
delivered last week.

The boy moved into her line of vision, observing her silently for a long
time.  Then he asked,

"Are you... like... one of those weird old ladies that keep eighty-two cats
in their house?"  Nora straightened.

"Gosh, I hope not.  Come back in fifty years, and we'll see."  She motioned
behind him where a rusty box of tools sat on a wooden feed bin.  "Hand me
those wire cutters, will you?"  It took him longer than it should have to
figure out which tool she meant.

Finally, he lifted the wire cutters cautiously and held them out to her with
a questioning look.  "Those are the ones," she told him.  She slid the
cutters under the wire binding the hay together.  One snip, and the bale
began to fall apart into flakes.  "Feel like helping out?"

"I don't want to get dirty."   "I can see why," Nora replied, eyeing the
expensive cut of his slacks and shirt.   Who dressed a kid--especially a
boy--like that?   "Maybe you'd better not.   I need someone who can really
dig in and help me out."   The boy seemed to consider this statement for a
moment or two, then he shrugged.   "I'll be careful, and I guess there's
nothing better to do."   "Can you tear this hay into pieces?"   With one hand
she indicated a second small pen she'd recently finished constructing.
"Then spread it around the floor there?"   He nodded and began pulling apart
the hay, methodically placing it in layers across the dirt floor of the pen
while she retrieved medicines from the small refrigerator under one of the
counters.   She noticed that he was very careful not to allow the straw to
touch his clothes.

"Don't you have anyone to do this for you?"  he asked.  "I do now.

What's your name?  "

"Charles."  He said his name precisely, as though he thought it held special
meaning.  She inclined her head toward him.  "Welcome to the rehab shed,
Charles.  Don't talk too loud and don't move too suddenly.

It frightens the animals.  And if you want to hang on to all your fingers,
don't put them in the cages.  All right?  " He nodded again.

"So what's a rehab shed?"  he asked when he was about halfway through the
chore.  "A place where sick wild animals get better.  Every year a few run
into trouble--cars, hunters with no sense, predators that beat them up pretty
badly.  If the problem is fixable, they're brought here so I can nurse them
back to health."

"So they're your pets."   She thought of Marjorie and shook her head firmly.
"No.   A rehabber isn't allowed to turn them into pets.   They have to
remain wild.   Otherwise they won't know how to survive once you've released
them."   From the sink in one corner, she added a few drops of water to the
medicinal base she planned to use on Bandit's cuts.   "Want to meet them?"
He nodded, and she led him to the cages while she gently stirred the yellow
concoction into a paste.   "This is Jeckle," she said, inclining her head
toward the crow, then the mockingbird.   "And that's Begger.

They were both brought to me as orphans.  " Charles wrinkled his nose as he
peered into Jeckle's cage.  " Why are you bothering to save him?  He's just
a crow.

They're everywhere.  " " You see little boys everywhere, but wouldn't you
want someone to save you if you were in trouble?  " " I'm not a little boy,"
Charles said in an aggrieved tone.  " I'm nearly a teenager.  "

"Well, Jeckle is important to me.  All creatures are."  The kid looked up at
her with sudden speculation.  "Do they pay you lots of money to do this?"
"They don't pay me at all.  I do it because I want to."  She moved on to the
raccoon's cage.  The animal looked at them with sharp, beady eyes.  "This is
Bandit."

 "Are you gonna cut his head off?"

"Good grief, no!"  Nora stared at the boy, wondering what kind of horrid
imagination this kid liked to indulge.  "Why would you ask that?"

 "You know," Charles said in a seemingly earnest tone.   "Rabies.

Isn't that how they find out if they have them?  " Nora frowned.

"Bandit doesn't have rabies.  He had a run-in with a dog.  I'm mixing up this
paste right now so that I can put it on those cuts you see."

"Oh.  What if he bites you?  Is there a chance you'll get rabies?"

"Are all kids your age so gruesome?"  The boy opened his mouth to reply, then
seemed to change his mind.  After a few seconds he spoke.

rtifrf DVrtffo vi

"I've just never seen many wild animals up close before.  I live in the city.
At least, I used to."

"That explains a few things," Nora muttered.   Charles asked a few more
questions about the raccoon and its chances for survival.   Unexpectedly,
they were thoughtful, intelligent inquiries, and he listened closely to her
answers.   Nora began to suspect that he was enjoying himself.   "This is
Marjorie," Nora said as they moved on to the deer's pen.   "Her mother was
killed on the road."   "She doesn't look like a Marjorie."   "Well, you don't
look like a Charles."   He jerked his head up to glare at her.

"That's what my mother always calls me."

"You look like a Charlie to me.   Do you mind if I call you that?"   "I
guess not," he said in a soft, sullen voice.   He stared at the deer as
though memorizing every detail.   "Marjorie's still a dumb name."   "I named
her after Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings."   "Who?"   "The woman who wrote The
Yearling."   He shook his head.   "Never read it."   "Too bad.   It's
wonderful."   The boy looked up at her again, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.
"Any monsters in it?"   "Afraid not.   No car chases or killer tornadoes,
either.   But there's a young boy in the story.   He lives deep in the
Florida woods with his family, and he finds a fawn, just like Marjorie here."

"Sounds exciting," Charlie commented with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
"When are you going to let her go?"  Nora frowned and looked down at the
yellow paste in her hands.  "Perhaps in a few days."

"You don't want to?"   "She has to be released," she replied, more for her
own benefit than his.   "She's probably stayed too long as it is."   Charlie
straightened, and Nora was aware that he was suddenly watching her closely.
For a kid, he seemed very intuitive.

She had the strangest feeling that he knew exactly how much the mistake she'd
made with Marjorie was costing her.  "You could lie," he said quietly and
gave her a sly look, as though they were suddenly co conspirators.  "Tell them
you let her go, but keep her instead."

"I couldn't do that."   "Why not?"   he asked.   He seemed genuinely
surprised by her answer.   '"Cause you'd get caught?"   "No.   Because then
she'd be miserable instead of me.   She's a wild animal who wouldn't be happy
living in a pen."   He seemed to give this thought serious consideration for
a long moment.   Then his shoulders rose in an elaborate shrug.   "You should
just do what you want, and the heck with what anybody else thinks, including
Marjorie."   "Surely your parents taught you that's not a very good way to
live your life?"   Nora said.

The boy actually stiffened.  With a quaint and somehow heartrending dignity
he said,

"My mom taught me everything I need to know, and she did everything right."

His eyes had taken on a militant sparkle, and Nora realized that he was
waiting for her to dispute that statement.  She didn't.  Instead, she said
lightly,

"Wow.  A mom who doesn't make mistakes.  I hope she's going to write a book
on motherhood."

 "She's a famous model."

Charlie's expression turned to one of pride.  "So famous that she doesn't
even need her last name anymore.  Her name's Thea.  You've probably seen her.
She was on two magazine covers last month."  Nora never bothered to follow
the news about the "beautiful people," but even she'd heard of Thea.  The
woman--in her early thirties--was the latest darling of the photographers.
Some perfume company--trying to woo the aging baby boomers--had just given
her an ungodly amount of money to be the star of their multimedia ad
campaign.  There was some other reason Nora was familiar with the woman's
name, but for the life of her, she couldn't put her finger on it.  She went
to the sink and washed the spatula she'd used to stir Bandit's medicine.
With her back to Charlie, she said,

"A mother who doesn't make mistakes and is a super model.  Your dad must feel
pretty lucky."

"They're divorced.   He hates her."   She cocked her head in the boy's
direction, not certain she'd heard correctly over the sound of running water
from the tap.

"How do you know that?"

"He took me away from her.  Just to make her mad."  That statement carried
such fury that Nora turned and looked sharply at the boy.  She was about to
engage Charlie in further discussion, but she became aware of Jake Burdette
standing in the open doorway.  Hot blood surged into her cheeks, and she was
glad for the late-afternoon light that gave everything in the rehab shed a
mellow glow.  She wondered if he had heard the last of his son's remarks.
His face gave nothing away.

Charlie--obviously expecting her to react to his words--turned his head and
caught sight of his father.  His posture went from stiff to ramrod straight.
"Charles," Jake Burdette said mildly as he ducked his head under the low
doorway and moved farther into the shed.  "You shouldn't have run off without
telling me where you were going."  An argument looked ready to drop from
Charlie's lips, and Nora plunged in quickly.

"My fault," she offered in an effort to lighten the sudden tension between
father and son.  "I'm always looking for someone to fetch and carry, and he
was too nice to refuse."  Jake gave her a vague smile, his attention still
focused on Charlie.  "Get your things together from the car.  We're checking
in."  He held up one of the Hideaway's large key rings.  "Cabin Two."
"You're kidding."  There was no mistaking Charlie's feelings about staying a
night in one of the cabins.

When Jake ignored the comment, Charlie sighed heavily, snatched the key from
his father's hand and stomped out of the shed without a look or word in her
direction.  Silently, the two adults watched him go" Thank you for keeping
him occupied," Jake said eventually.  "He didn't want to come on this trip,
and he's been reminding me of that fact ever since we left Norfolk."

"No problem.   He seems like a nice enough kid."   "Does he?"   Jake replied
with a surprised look and a light laugh.

"I've yet to see much of that side of him.  I've just recently gained
custody, and our relationship is a little thorny."

"I'm sure he'll come around."   It was the kind of hope-filled comment all
parents like to hear, and he gave her a small smile to indicate he knew that.
Then he looked at her in such a calm, deliberate way that her pulse jumped.

Before she knew it, he was taking her hand, as though meeting her for the
first time.  "I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot.  Isabel speaks very
highly of you, and I know firsthand that you're very protective of her."  She
dipped her head.  "I'm rather embarrassed..."

"Don't be.  Everyone should have a friend like you."  The words were low, but
sounded so sincere that her pulse jumped again, even danced a little.  Silly,
she thought, and unexpected.  Had it really been so long since a good-looking
man had said nice things to her that she should react like a teenager on her
first date?  Jeckle began to screech unpleasantly, and Nora used the crow as
an excuse to move away from Jake Burdette.  She removed the water bottle from
Jeckle's cage.  "So," she remarked in what she hoped was an offhanded way.
"Isabel checked you in."

"We both felt we needed more time to talk.   Do you object?"   She shrugged.
"If Isabel doesn't mind, there's no reason for me to."   "How long have you
known her?"   "Isabel answered an ad I'd placed for seasonal help three years
ago.   She's been coming every break from college since then."   She looked
up at him over the edge of Jeckle's cage.   "Well, all except the holidays
last year when she met your brother.   Over the years we've developed quite a
friendship.   We're more like sisters now."   "I'm glad she had a good friend
to turn to when she needed one."   "I'll do anything I can to help her."   He
was quiet for a long moment, watching her replace the refilled water bottle
into the crow's cage.   Then he said in a tone that sounded almost
sympathetic,

"Does that include adopting her baby?"

She leveled a look at him.  "You make it sound like I'm only doing it to help
her out of a jam.  I assure you it wasn't a quick decision."

"Isabel's very young.  Probably confused about what she really wants" "She's
not confused at all," Nora countered.  "Perhaps she was at first, and
certainly she was frightened, but she's very clear on what she wants now."
"So you had nothing to do with her plan to give you her baby?"  The
conversation was deteriorating rapidly.  "What are you suggesting?"  she
asked in what she meant to be a chilling voice.  "I'm not suggesting
anything," he said.  "I'm pretty much stating it up front.  I think this
decision to give her baby away is too hasty.

Perhaps she saw it as the only way out of a difficult predicament.  " " If
she found herself in a difficult predicament, your brother was the one who
helped put her there.  He washed his hands of the problem and even suggested
an abortion.  Are you aware of that?  " He nodded.  " I am.

Isabel's telephone call threw him for quite a loop.  That doesn't excuse him,
but I do know that he came to regret that suggestion almost immediately after
he made it.  " " And yet you're the one who's come here, when it should be
him"-- " My brother is dead, Miss Holloway.  He died a few days after he
received Isabel's phone call.  " He said the words in such a matter-of-fact
way that at first Nora thought she'd heard incorrectly.  She looked at him,
trying to gauge his feelings, but his features were expressionless.  " I'm
sorry.  I didn't know.  "

His broad shoulders moved uneasily, and she suspected he wasn't comfortable
with her sympathy.  His hands roamed over a line of bottles and cans that sat
upon the counter, as though he had real interest in containers of peroxide
and liniment.  "He was working with me in Nigeria, building a bridge.

A group of bandits attacked one of my field crews.  Bobby hung on for a
while, but.  " He broke off, turning away from the counter suddenly.

There was an odd twist to his mouth, as though he'd said too much and wished
he could call back the words.  "Have you told Isabel?"  Nora asked softly.
"Yes.  She took it well, I think."  He grimaced.  "I know Bobby's initial
reaction to her telephone call hurt her pretty badly.  I don't believe she's
been entertaining pleasant thoughts about him all these months."

"Still, I should go to her."   Placing the last of the medicine in the
refrigerator, Nora washed and dried her hands.

She turned to face him suddenly.  "You said Bobby came to regret his
decision?"

"I sat by my brother's hospital bed for almost two days before he died.   He
wanted to come home, find Isabel and tell her he'd made a huge mistake.
There's no doubt in my mind he would have married her and given his child a
name."   Jake expelled a long sigh.   "Toward the end he knew he wasn't going
to... He asked me to make sure she was all right.   That she'd have enough
money to support herself and the baby.   That's why I'm here.   Of course,
everything's changed now."

Nora's heart cramped suddenly.  "What do you mean?"

Jake gave her a hard, level look that didn't reassure her any.  "I'm sorry,
but I can't go along with what Isabel wants.  I can't let you adopt my
brother's child."

CHAPTER FOUR it was absolutely as bad as she had feared.  Her dream was
disintegrating.  A sudden weariness dropped over Nora like a second skin.
Please don't do this to me, she wanted to beg.  Not again.  It was an effort
to keep her lips from trembling, but somewhere in the past she'd learned the
trick of shielding herself.  Somehow she managed to find enough voice to say
firmly,

"The decision has been made."  Jake shrugged.  "It can be unmade.  I
understand no adoption papers have been signed yet."

"They will be.   Isabel is not going to change her mind."   "We'll see.
I've asked her to give me a week to convince her otherwise."   "Mr.
Burdette, did Isabel tell you about her plans for the future?"   "No.   I
suppose that's one of the things we'll need to discuss.   We barely covered
the basics.   She told me the child was a boy, but little more than that."
Nora snorted in derision.   "I'm afraid you're in for quite a
disappointment.   Isabel may seem rather... scattered right now, but she has
very specific goals for herself, and they don't include raising a child."
Her hands were shaking, and to find something for them to do she began
reorganizing the items on the counter, tilting bottles this way and that as
though they were intended for some sort of display.   Jake observed her
silently for several long moments, then he reached over to place one hand on
top of hers.   "Miss Holloway," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.
"Nora.   I'm sorry.

I'm sure you're a very nice person"-- She snatched her hands out from under
his and jerked her head up to glare at him.  " You don't even know me.  " "
By the end of the week I intend to know everything I need to know about you.
" The sudden steely tone in his voice made her heart buck in rebellion.  Her
eyes narrowed.  " Are you trying to intimidate me?  " " There's no need to be
defensive.  " She clamped her jaw around a few harsh words that came to mind.
Giving him the same hard, level look he had given her only minutes ago, she
said with biting courtesy, " Mr. Burdette, I've waited a long time to have a
child.  Now that it's about to become a reality, I'm not willing to just
politely step aside.

I want this baby.  It's Isabel's intention that I have this baby.  The wishes
of the mother hold a considerable amount of sway in the eyes of the law.  "
He appeared completely unperturbed.  If anything, something in his stillness
became more ominous.  " Yes, they do," he agreed in a quiet tone.  He pushed
away from the counter and headed toward the door.  Before he left the room,
he turned to look at her one last time."

"But I doubt very much that the courts would completely ignore the concerns
of a blood relative."   isabel pleaded a headache when Nora returned to the
lodge, and she allowed the girl to escape into her bedroom for the evening.

Tomorrow was soon enough to find out if all her hopes and dreams for this
baby had been for nothing.  But in the morning, Isabel was already gone when
Nora woke.  A note on the kitchen counter indicated she'd gone into town with
Jake Burdette and would return by mid-morning.

Instead of trying to drum up an appetite for breakfast, Nora began working on
the baby's quilt the two of them had been piecing together.

She wanted desperately to believe that one day her child would lie under it.
By ten o'clock, when she head the front lobby door of the lodge open and
shut, her nerves were as tight as each stitch she had pulled through the
pastel material.  Isabel came into the living room.

Nora discovered that she couldn't look at her right away.  She was afraid of
what she'd see in the girl's eyes, afraid she wasn't strong enough yet to
accept whatever cataclysmic decisions about her future had been decided over
a simple breakfast.

"You got my note?"  Isabel asked as she went into the kitchen.  "Yes."

That was the best response Nora could manage.  Every breath she took seemed
dangerous now.  She heard the sound of Isabel cracking ice into a glass, and
she thought.  Are you afraid to tell me, Izzie?  Is it so bad that you have
to build up your courage first?  The fear of the unknown was like pain,
swallowing her alive.  She couldn't stand it any longer.  If the baby was
never to be hers, she had to know.  The moment Isabel appeared in the doorway
between the kitchen and living room, Nora stopped stitching and looked up.
Her eyes captured Isabel's.  "Do you want to talk about it?"  she asked.
"Yes, I suppose we should,"

Isabel answered vaguely, then shook her head.  "No.  Not yet.  Oh, Nora, why
did he have to come here?"

"Please don't upset yourself.   It isn't good for you or the baby."   Isabel
settled on the couch, leaned forward as far as her burgeoning stomach would
allow and placed her hand on Nora's shoulder.   "You've been so good to me.
You know I'd never want to see you hurt, don't you?"   The pain in Nora's
chest became a vise.   She pushed the fabric from her lap, wanting to rise,
but she felt bowed by the kind of grief that would not let her stand
straight.   / mustn 't give in to it.   I have to be strong.   She twisted
onto her knees so that she could face the girl.

Isabel's fingers were clutched tightly around the glass of water.  Nora took
it out of her hand, set in on the coffee table, then took both Isabel's hands
in her own.  "Izzie, it will be all right," she said softly.  "Listen to me.
There is nothing I want more than to raise your child as my own.  But if
you're trying to find some kind way to tell me... if Jake Burdette's coming
here has made you change your mind about the adoption...I  can accept it.  I
must."  Isabel gave her a surprised look.  "No.  Oh, no!  I'm more determined
than ever that you should have this baby."  Renewed hope fluttered in Nora's
chest.  "Do you mean that?"

"Absolutely."   Nora gave her a puzzled look.   "Then what has you so
upset?"   "It's him, Bobby's brother.   I told him what I want to accomplish
when I go back to Bosnia.   I even showed him the letter I got from
BlakelyForbes.   I asked him if he knew how few medical students ever get an
opportunity to intern at the best hospital for reconstructive surgery in the
world."   "What did he say to that?"

"He congratulated me."  "What's wrong with that?"  Nora asked.

"Nothing, I suppose," Isabel said, chewing on her lower lip.  "But I was very
unnerved by his calm, quiet attitude.  What if he tries to make things
difficult for me?"

"What could he do?"   "Suppose he talks to someone at BlakelyPorbes?   Would
they want an intern who's had an illegitimate baby?   I know he wants to
convince me to keep the baby.   But I won't do it.   I won't."   "Then how
can he?"   Nora squeezed Isabel's hand to keep the girl's panic from
spiraling out of control.   "Besides, do you really think I'll let him upset
you?   You know I'll protect you, Izzie.

You know that, don't you?  " " Yes.  " " Then, why are you letting yourself
get so worked up?  " " I'm not sure.  The only time Jake showed any anger at
all this morning was when he reminded me that the baby was a member of his
family, too, and that he's not going to respect my decision to let you adopt
this child.  " " He'll give up and go away once he sees that we're both
determined.  He doesn't know what a formidable duo we are.  " " Bobby told me
once that Jake's very tough and stubborn.  He brought the family business
back from the edge of bankruptcy.  He has.  connections.  He's smart.  The
night I met him he carried on our entire conversation in my native language.
Dialect and all.  " " What's that got to do with anything?  " Nora asked with
a light laugh.  " He speaks six languages and can do business in all of
them.  A man that worldly isn't going to be intimidated by a couple of women.
" " Isabel!  " Nora scolded.  " How can you say such a thing?  You're a
disgrace to American women everywhere.  " " I'm not American," Isabel
reminded her with a smile, clearly willing to be reassured and teased out of
her worried state.  " You know what I mean.

The truth is, honey, he can't make you keep this baby.  So no matter what he
thinks, Mr. Jake Burdette is about to hear the word no.  In six different
languages if necessary.  " Nora cocked her head at Isabel.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you this... intense before."   Nora placed her
hand against the swell of Isabel's stomach.   "That's because I've never
wanted anything more in my life.   And I'm willing to fight for it."   They
spent the next two hours working on opposite ends of the quilt, involved in
talk about the baby.   Their laughter was a little too bright, their
conversations a little too loud, but gradually the crinkle of nerves in the
pit of Nora's stomach began to smooth out and disappear.   Around noon, Nora
looked over at Isabel's needlework, then tossed her own section of the quilt
away from her lap.   "Oh, drat!   Your stitches are perfectly uniform and
mine go all over the place."   "It's all the practice I've had suturing in
medical school."

"They're beautiful," Nora said as she leaned closer to inspect the girl's
handiwork.  She slipped an awed look upward.  "You're going to make such a
wonderful surgeon, Izzie."  Isabel stopped stitching and smiled at her.  "Do
you really think so?  I want to be the best reconstructive surgeon my country
has ever seen.  Think what good I could do for bodies that have been
destroyed by bombs and bullets.  Oh, Nora, it will be like working magic,
don't you think?"  Nora returned her friend's smile.  In the months since
Isabel had made the suggestion that Nora adopt her baby, there had been many
times when she had wondered how the girl would be able to walk away from
something as precious as her own child.  But hearing her friend speak of her
surgical future with such reverent hope, Nora knew nothing would stand in
Isabel's way.  She almost felt sorry for Jake Burdette.  Nora moved forward
to give Isabel a swift hug.  "You'll be awe-inspiring, Izzie.

You really will.  " Slipping a book off the coffee table, she settled back
against the couch.  " Now, take pity on me.  Fix the mess I've made on this
square while I propose some more names for the baby.  "

"Oh, no, not again!"  Isabel protested, but she picked up Nora's side of the
quilt anyway.  "We've been through all those names a dozen times."

"And still nothing jumps out at me.   Which is why we have to go through
them again."   Nora riffled through the book.   "How about Kevin?"   Isabel
made a face.   "Not Kevin.   I dated a Kevin in my first year of college.
He had cold hands no matter what the temperature was.   It was like being
touched by a fish."   "How about this one?   Ivan."   "As in

"The Terrible'?  You wouldn't do that to a kid."

"What about Einion?"   "Onion?"   "Einion."   "You're making that up."
"I'm not," Nora said with a laugh, and flipped the book around so Isabel
could read it herself.   "Einion.   It's Celtic."   "And it's horrible,"
Isabel said.   "Keep looking."   The task quickly escalated into a silly
game.   Nora called out a few more names, each one more preposterous than the
last.   Isabel started to make up stories about the kinds of kids who would
have such impossible names, and both women ended up laughing until they were
crying, and Nora had to jump up to find them tissues.   Finally, with Isabel
wiping tears from her eyes, Nora slapped the book back on the coffee table
and shot mock daggers toward her friend.   "You are not helping one bit.   He
can't stay Baby Boy Holloway forever.   What are we going to name this kid?"
"How about Robert?   After his father?"   a voice cut through their
laughter.   The fact that they were no longer alone startled both women, and
they looked quickly toward the door that led to the registration desk.   Jake
Burdette stood in the opening.   His presence silenced the sound of their
amusement like someone snapping off a radio.   No one spoke for several
awkward seconds.   It annoyed Nora that Jake had barged into her private
quarters to make a suggestion he knew she'd find upsetting.   Deciding that
the best way to handle his recommendation was to ignore it, she stood up.
"Did you need something?"   she asked.   He motioned back toward the outer
lobby.   "Sorry to interrupt your fun, ladies.   But I did ring the bell on
the counter and no one came."   Nora hadn't seen him since he'd left her
standing alone in the rehab shed yesterday.

Cabin Two was angled in such a way that she could have a clear view from the
front windows, but she'd stubbornly refused to show an interest in Burdette's
comings and goings.  If he and his son ate dinner out, or cooked something
simple in the cabin's tiny kitchen, or sat on the front porch and watched the
sun go down over the pines, she never knew.  What she did know was that he
was just as attractive today as he had been yesterday.  More so, if that was
possible.  He looked completely relaxed in jeans and a polo shirt of dark
blue that made his body seem to be casually hung together and yet muscularly
controlled all at the same time.  His eyes, clear and level, with nothing
shirked, nothing hidden, rolled over her.  For just an instant, Nora felt
flushed, tongue-tied.  Then she pulled herself together.  "Did you need
something, Mr. Burdette?"  she asked again, hiding behind the mask of polite
disinterest while the tension within her stretched from nerve ending to nerve
ending.  "A wrench, if you've got one.  And maybe a can ofWD-40."  The
request caught her off guard.  "I beg your pardon?"

"The kitchen sink in the cabin is blocked.   I tried the plunger I found in
the closet, but the clog won't budge.   I can fix it, but I'll need tools."
He tilted his head, giving her a look that indicated he thought he might be
dealing with someone completely inept.   "You do have some, don't you?"   "Of
course I do," she replied in a tone that was sharp with annoyance.   She
stood quickly, pulling down the hem of her shorts and tucking the tail of her
blouse into the waistband.   "And I'm the one who should fix it.

I'll come right down.  " " That really isn't necessary.  I can handle it.  "
In a businesslike voice, Nora said,

"I'll handle it, Mr. Burdette.  I don't ask my guests to do their own
maintenance."  She looked at him suddenly, giving him a false smile that
would shame a shark.  "Besides, I wouldn't want your stay here to be
unpleasant."

"No, not unpleasant."  He returned her smile, and something in the gleam of
his eyes told her she hadn't fooled him one bit.  "Just short, I imagine."
she was true to her word.  Less than ten minutes after Jake had returned to
the cabin, he looked out the screen door and saw Nora Holloway marching down
the driveway, toolbox in hand.  With her long, shapely bare legs and swinging
ponytail, she made the most attractive maintenance man he'd ever seen, and
only the slight frown carved upon those delicate features ruined the
appealing picture she presented.  A twist of amusement lifted his mouth.  He
had a pretty good idea just who was responsible for that frown.  The woman
had decided not to like him, and she wouldn't pretend to feel otherwise.  He
scooped up the bag carrying the rest of the supplies he'd purchased in town
and went to join Charlie on the front porch.  The kid's grumbling had gotten
louder in the last few minutes.  Evidently he'd made no headway untangling
line from the new spinning reel Jake had attached to one of two new rods.

The boy might be able to tell the difference between a Monet and a Matisse at
twenty paces, but, in his hands, a simple rod and reel became a deadly
weapon.  Jake had spent an hour this morning teaching him to cast a line, and
so far Charlie had managed to hook the cushions on the rocking chairs twice
and poke a fair-size hole in Jake's favorite jeans.  "Got it untangled yet?"
he asked his son as he rooted through one of the bags.  "No," Charlie said,
stretching the word out for effect.  He huffed noisily and stared at his
father.  "And I don't see why we have to do this.  If you want fish for
dinner, even a podunk town like this one has to have a supermarket."

"Have you ever had fresh fish?"

"Better, probably.   Marisela, our housekeeper, was only allowed to shop in
the best markets.   She handpicked all our food because Mother has to be very
careful what she eats."   Of course, Jake thought, and dropped his head to
hide his wry smile.   "Let me amend that question," he said patiently.
"Have you ever had fresh fish that you yourself have caught?"   The boy threw
him a skeptical look over the knotted line in his lap.   "No, but do I have
to whack the cow myself before I can enjoy a steak?   I don't see the
difference."   "Let's give it a chance anyway."   The kid might have argued
further, but in that moment he noticed Nora Holloway making her way toward
them.   Unexpectedly, his son's frown smoothed out, and his posture improved.
Jake realized that, for all his disinterest in being here, evidently
Charlie wasn't immune to the sight of a pretty woman, either.   Nora came up
the steps slowly.   Jake, with one hip and a leg hitched over the edge of the
porch railing, gave her his best smile.

She didn't return it.  He nodded toward the toolbox banging against her bare
leg.  "Seems like an awful lot of tools for such a small clog."

"Well, you never know what you'll find once you get in there."  Jake looked
up from the lead weights he'd been juggling in his hand.  "I'd imagine there
are a lot of problems in maintaining a place like this."

"None that I haven't been able to handle," she replied in her most efficient
manner.   She glanced over at Charlie, and Jake was annoyed that she could
find a smile for the boy, but not for him.   "Hi, Charlie."   "Hello."
"Going fishing?"   The kid grimaced and held up the knotted line.   "Gee,
what gave it away?"

Nora turned her glance back to Jake.  Still absorbed by the fact that his son
hadn't taken her head off for calling him Charlie instead of Charles, he
almost missed her next words.  "There's no fishing allowed in the spring
pool, but you can pick a spot anywhere along the riverbank."

"Do you want to recommend any place in particular?"   Jake asked.   She
turned and took the weight off her arm by lifting the toolbox onto the
railing beside him.   After staring down the slope that led to the river for
a few moments, she pointed toward a spot a good distance away from the
spring.   "I've always had luck over there.   Where those trees sort of
interlock overhead."   His gaze didn't follow her pointing finger.   He
supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to discover that he was suddenly
aware of her in a distinctly sexual way.

The past few months had been time-consuming, demanding--his efforts to put a
satisfactory end to the African job in spite of Bobby's death, all the
battling with Thea over Charlie.  There hadn't been much time to think
about women.  But suddenly here he was, feeling his body tighten in quick
response to her proximity, noticing little things about her that he had no
business noticing.  Like the way the fine hairs at the base of her neck--too
short for the ponytail--looked as though they'd feel like silk if he touched
them.

The way her nose tipped up at the end, just slightly, just enough to keep her
profile from being too serious.  Only this wasn't the woman Jake should be
taking an interest in.  Since he and Isabel had talked this morning, he'd
been thinking a lot about Bobby's child, sorting through several
possibilities--none of them likely to make Nora Holloway feel kindly toward
him.  His lack of response made Nora turn her head his way.  Her expression
was questioning, uneasy, and although she didn't say another word, he watched
the slow slide of movement as her throat worked, and she swallowed.  He would
have bet the family business that she knew exactly what he was thinking.  Oh,
hell, a little voice murmured in his head.  Don't look at her.  He tried to
recall exactly what the conversation had been about while he mastered his
anatomy.  Something about fishing.  Yeah, that was it.  He swung his head
toward the river, searching out the spot she'd suggested.

He had to smile when he realized the place she meant.  Early this morning,
too restless to sleep, he'd walked quite a stretch of the riverbank, and if
there was ever an unlikely spot to cast a line, the place Nora Holloway
suggested was it.  It was so overgrown and muddy that access to the river
would be nearly impossible.  More important, the current took a sharp turn
there, creating a still cove.  The only thing likely to be biting would be
mosquitoes.  He looked back at her.

The beginnings of an innocent smile told Jake she'd be perfectly delighted to
have him spend the entire day fishing and coming up empty-handed.  He shook
his head, then turned his attention back to the river and pointed in an
entirely different direction.  "I was thinking there, where that over spill
from the spring makes a small waterfall.  Lots of aerated water at the base
of it.  Bound to be fish hanging around."

"I suppose," she agreed pleasantly, although she couldn't quite manage to
keep the disappointment out of her voice.   ' "You'll need bobbers, so your
line doesn't drag bottom and snag on the rocks."   He held up a package of
red-and-white floats.   "Like these?"

Checkmated, her forehead settled into a frown for a moment, then she said
levelly,

"I'd better see to that clog."  Hiding a look of triumph, he watched as she
slid the toolbox from the railing and banged through the screen door.  There
wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was cursing him all the way to the
kitchen.  "What was that all about?"  Charlie asked, rousing Jake from his
reverie.  "What was what all about?"

"The two of you.   You act like you're in some kind of competition.   Don't
you like her?"   "I haven't thought much about her one way or the other."
Jake didn't elaborate.   Instead, he slipped off the railing and removed the
tangled reel from his son's hand.   "I'll work on this," he said.   "You go
change into the clothes I bought."   Charlie rose from the rocker, the mulish
tilt to his mouth once more in place.   "I told you, I don't like jeans.
They're sloppy-looking and they're" "Perfect for running around a place like
this," Jake finished for him.

He could see the battle brewing in Charlie's eyes and decided on a different
approach.  "You don't want to mess up all those fine clothes you brought with
you, do you?  Wear the jeans while we're here, then when we leave you can
throw them in the trash if you want to."

"How long are we gonna be here?"   "A few days.   Do we have a deal?"   "I
suppose."   "Go on, then.   I'll have this fixed in a minute, and you'll be
all set to catch your supper."   "I don't want to fish."   Jake smiled
brightly at his son, wondering just when it was that Charlie had stopped
being a normal, fun-loving kid and turned into a rude, overbearing brat.
"Well, we could sit around the cabin and just talk, if you'd rather."   That
suggestion got the expected response.   The kid snorted in disgust and made
his way toward the door.   "I'll get dressed."   As he yanked open the
screen, he shot a disgruntled glance toward his father.   "Can I bring" --
"No," Jake interrupted without looking up from the reel in his hands.   "No
video games."   Charlie bore himself off like an offended prince, and Jake
concentrated on the mess his son had made of the fishing equipment.   He
grimaced at the nest of knots.   Was he pushing too hard by forcing the kid
to go fishing with him?   Jake had always loved the long, languid hours he
and his grandfather had spent at the lake.   It hadn't been about the fish
they caught--although it was always great to arrive triumphant in the kitchen
with a creel full of fish.   More than anything, it had been about time spent
together--without Bobby, who was too young and restless to sit quietly for
long, or his father, who saw every excursion on the water as an excuse to
stock an ice chest with beer.

No, no outsiders.  Just him and the old man.  And as the sweetness of a
summer morning broke through, as the mists rose around their boat like ghosts
meeting and embracing, they had fished and talked about every subject
imaginable.  Silly things.  Important things.  Those were wonderful hours
when the world had telescoped down to just the two of them.  Jake glanced
toward the river, thinking how much his grandfather would have liked this
place.  He'd been gone fifteen years, and Jake still missed him.  He wished
the old man were here to help Jake find the best way to reach his son.  Maybe
the kind of relationship he'd had with his grandfather wasn't possible with
Charlie, but damn it, Jake knew he could do better than his own father.

Samuel Burdette had been drunk most of the time and had run the family
business into the ground.  He'd never given his kids a second thought.

As the oldest son, Jake had been the one to look after his younger brother.
All things considered, he hadn't done such a bad job.  So now he could do the
same for his son.  Time and patience.  That was all he needed.  And a few
lazy days of catching fish in the dappled sunlight of this peaceful place.
His gaze traveled over the grounds ofHolloway's Hideaway.  It was a beautiful
piece of property, situated in a location that would be coveted by every
developer in the state if they only knew it existed.  But anyone with a
college degree in business could see that the Hideaway was a losing
proposition.  There were too few cabins to turn a real profit, and though
they were functional and clean, he'd spotted more than one sign that the
units needed renovation and a major infusion of cash.  Asking the right
questions of Isabel this morning had gained him the knowledge that money was
one thing Nora Holloway didn't have much of, and he wondered how long she
could hold on.  Not a very encouraging future.  And not a very stable
enviromrient in which to try to raise a child.  Frowning, Jake leaned forward
to run his hand along one of the porch struts.  Dry rot was taking hold of
the wood, and it would have to be replaced before too long.  Was he really
willing to walk away and let Bobby's son be raised in this place, by a
complete stranger with limited resources?  He still wasn't sure, but he knew
he couldn't make a decision until he knew more about Nora Holloway.  Until he
knew just what kind of woman she was.  He straightened and went inside the
cabin.

CHAPTER FIVE < there was a lot of banging coming from the direction of the
cabin's kitchen, then a muffled curse.  Jake smiled.  Evidently,
"I'll-handle-it" HoUoway had run into a little trouble.  Charlie was still in
the bedroom.  Jake found Nora alone in the kitchen.  The plunger was lying in
the sink in a couple of inches of standing water, just the way he'd left it.
Clearly she hadn't had any more luck breaking the clog loose than he'd had.
She was on her side, braced on one forearm, her attention focused on working
a wrench around the exposed pipe under the sink.  Occasionally she hit the
wrench with a small hammer to try to work the P-trap nut loose.  The
unobstructed view he had of her legs was enough to make the trip in from the
front porch worthwhile.  All sculpted cream and silky skin.  Damn, but the
woman was put together nice!  He drew in a deep lungful of air and decided
the only gentlemanly thing to do was to see if she could use a hand.  He'd
just have to make certain that she didn't bite it off.  He leaned against the
small stove, determined not to let the slightest hint of amusement slip into
his voice.  "Can I help?"  he called out to her.  The banging ceased
immediately, and it was dangerously quiet all of a sudden.  She didn't emerge
from under the sink or even turn her head his way.  But her legs, which had
previously been stretched out straight, drew up a little.  "No," came her
stubborn response.  "Is there a problem?"

"Nothing I can't handle."   "So you've said," he remarked in a mild tone.
He listened to her torture the pipe a little more while he slid a couple of
sodas and a bag of chips into the backpack he'd bought this morning.   She
grunted and groaned over the recaltricant nut.   He could have told her she
didn't have enough strength to work it loose, even with the wrench.

The P-trap probably hadn't been taken apart in years.  Finally, he settled in
front of her, sitting cross- legged on the worn linoleum.  A few tendrils of
dark hair had escaped her ponytail.  They clung wetly to her temples and the
base of her neck.  Her lips were a tight line of frustration, matching the
frown across her forehead, but she ignored him and kept working.

"Nut?"  She stopped immediately and looked at him, her gaze challenging and
as sharp as a blade.  "I beg your pardon?"

"I was asking if you'd like a nut."   He smiled and held out the container
of mixed nuts he also planned to stow in the backpack.

It took her a few seconds to focus her attention on the can.  Then she gave
him a small smile in return, moved into a sitting position and plucked out a
cashew.  "You know," he remarked quietly, "there's nothing wrong with asking
for help."  She popped the nut into her mouth.  The large wrench lay across
her lap.  Her fingers played along the dial that adjusted the tool's jaws.
"I never said there was.  But I'm perfectly capable of fixing the problem.
I've been doing this sort of thing for years."

"No maintenance man?"   She offered a little shrug, and he was pleased to
see that some of the tension seemed to have left her.   "Too expensive to
keep one on staff.   My brother.

Trip, is pretty handy.  But he's off on some grand quest for adventure.  "

Her tone of voice and the way she rolled her eyes told him just what she
thought of that idea.  Jake pushed a finger through the nuts, in search of
his favorite.

"A little resentful about that, I gather."

"No," Nora said succinctly.  Then with a grin, she ducked her head and
confessed,

"Yes.  But only on days when I can't get a stupid pipe to cooperate."  To
emphasize her point, she lifted the wrench and banged lightly on the
plumbing.  He said nothing for a few moments, just watched her frown as if by
sheer will she could make the metal coupling loosen.

She wore a pale blue cotton blouse, collar open, and he found himself
noticing the base of her throat, where her skin gleamed under a light sheen
of perspiration.  To distract himself, he shook the can of nuts, drawing her
attention.  "Trade with me," he said, indicating the wrench.

"I promise not to tell anyone you couldn't get it to budge."

Maybe she decided it wasn't worth an argument, or maybe she'd come to realize
that this fix-it job needed more strength than she had.

Whatever the reason, she didn't protest further.  She took the can of nuts
out of his hand, replacing it with the wrench as though she were a nurse
passing surgical instruments to a doctor.  He repositioned himself closer to
the P-trap.  Readjusting the wrench's jaws, he leaned into it, and in another
minute, the nut was coming loose.  In spite of the fact that she'd made no
headway in loosing the nut, she really was pretty knowledgeable.  Before he
even made the suggestion, Nora had positioned a bucket under the drain to
catch the water that had pooled in the sink.  After he ran more water through
the trap, he checked the opening to make sure nothing else blocked the flow.
His wiggling fingers encountered a hard barrier, and a moment later, two
objects rolled down his palm and dropped into the bucket Nora held.  She
plucked one out and held it up.  It was a green plastic toy soldier,
obviously the lost warrior of some previous young guest.  "There's your
culprit, " Jake said, noticing the battered edges of the soldier's figure.
"Poor guy looks like he's ready for a military discharge with honors."

"I'll retire him to the rest of our lost-and-found regiment," Nora replied.
She gave the soldier a quick salute, then flicked him into the toolbox.
"What else do you have?"   Jake asked, mildly curious to see what the second
object had been.   Nora peered down into the bucket, then gasped.   "Oh my
gosh!"   Jake stopped re tightening the nut and stared at her.   "What's the
matter?"   "Do you know what this is?"   Nora exclaimed as she shook her hand
free of the water and held up the other obstacle, captured between two
fingers.   It was a gold ring, with a trio of tiny diamonds across the top.
Because it was wet it sparkled prettily, but didn't look particularly
impressive.   Jake shrugged.   "My guess is that it's not the Hope diamond."
"It's Becky Fuller's wedding ring."   "Should I know who Becky Fuller is?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head.   Her attention was still focused on the
ring.   "I'm sorry.   It's just so unexpected.   Becky and Harold Fuller came
here as honeymooners.   They stayed in this cabin a year ago."   "And the new
Mrs. Fuller lost her ring down the sink."   "Not exactly."   Nora's gaze met
his, and her features were suddenly very earnest.   "She threw it down the
drain.

She and Harold had a huge quarrel.

Everyone who was staying here at the time heard all the yelling and crying.
The Fullers cut their honeymoon short.  She took the car and roared out of
here in the middle of the night, and he had to take a bus home.  I called her
two weeks later, and she said they were getting an annulment.  Since then.  "
" Since then, what?  " " Since then we've considered this cabin sort of
haunted.  " " Haunted," he repeated, the beginnings of a grin starting to
stretch across his features.  " As in ghosts?  " " No.  not really.  Just
little things, like plumbing problems, a blocked chimney, leaks in the roof.
Once we had an infestation of bats in the attic.  " " And you think those
things are a result of bad karma from the Fullers' honeymoon?  Not just a
lack of preventive maintenance.  " She grimaced as if he'd touched a nerve.
" I shouldn't have said anything.  It's just that we've never had newlyweds
who weren't crazy about this place, who weren't affected in a positive way.
The Hideaway knows how to treat young lovers.  You can see, can't you, how
romantic it could be to two people in love?  " He looked around the room,
offering a tentative nod.  " I can see the potential.  "

"Potential!"  she refuted with a hint of indignation.  "It's more than that.
It has atmosphere, intimacy.  There's peace and quiet.  And the beauty of
nature all around you."  She'd been drying the ring vigorously on a clean rag
that lay in the toolbox.

She stopped, looking at him closely.  "You should see the way the light
sparkles on the spring pool when there's a full moon.  It's almost magical."
Her words were hushed, lovingly reverent.  For a split second, for as long as
her soft, brown eyes locked with his, he wanted to kiss her.  It was a crazy
idea that came out of nowhere, and as he watched her drop her gaze, he
wondered if she'd felt it, too--that first, unexpected, exciting flash
between two people.  "Maybe you can show it to me some night," he said
softly, feeling her nearness like a tingling in his fingertips.  She looked a
little stunned.  Her mouth parted, and the pulse at her throat was fluttering
wildly.  Damn fool that he was, he wanted to put his lips to it, feel her
flesh tremble against his tongue.  "I don't think there's a full moon anytime
soon," she said quietly, and then she was suddenly concentrating on
rearranging the tools in the box, finding a safe place to store the ring--and
the conversation.  The golden moment was gone, but it was replaced by the
realization that this woman genuinely loved it here.  In spite of every
demand the Hideaway might make of her.  He admired that kind of commitment,
that kind of dedication.  To draw her attention, he touched her arm.  Her
eyes flew to his, looking startled.

"The Hideaway means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"Four generations of Holloways have lived here.   My great-grandparents
built the main lodge when there was no reason for anyone to come to Florida.
My grandparents added the cabins.   It's the only home I've ever known.
Or wanted."   She gave a little snort of self-deprecation.   "You probably
think I sound like a hick."   "I don't think that at all.   I think you're
lucky to have found a place you can envision spending the rest of your life.
Not everyone does, you know?"   "My brother, Trip, thinks we ought to sell
it now that Mom and Dad are gone."   "But you don't agree."   "Right now it's
not a consideration."   She stared down at the ring in her palm and shook her
head disbelievingly.   "Imagine a woman throwing her wedding ring down the
drain."   Jake laughed.   "I'd hate to think where my ex wife put hers."
Frowning, she cocked her head at him.   "Not an amicable divorce?"   He
lifted the wrench to the nut again, tightening it back into place.   "Not
exactly.   Thea would have my heart served at her next party if she thought
the cops wouldn't show up at her door."

Grimacing, he shook his head.  "At first, we kept it pretty civil.  But in
the five years since then, the relationship has deteriorated considerably.
Earlier this year, when I got back from the job in Africa, I had to threaten
to take her back to court in order to get permanent custody of Charlie."
"I'm sorry."

"So am I.   Not for me, but for what it's done to Charlie's attitude.   The
hostility you witnessed yesterday is pretty much standard operating
procedure for him."   "Perhaps he just needs a little time to adjust."

The gentle sympathy in her voice made him look at her.  He didn't know why he
was telling her about his personal problems; he was close mouthed by nature.
But it felt good to tell someone, and she seemed to understand so much more
than he was able to articulate.  Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he said,

"Tell me something, Nora.  Do you think the Hideaway can work a little magic
for Charlie and me?  Or is that just reserved for honeymooners?"  He never
found out the answer to that question.  Charlie appeared in the kitchen
doorway, dressed in his new jeans and T-shirt.  "So are we going fishing or
what?"  he asked.

the fishing trip was hardly what anyone would consider a success.

Although Jake and Charlie spent the better part of the afternoon at the
river, they did not catch a single fish.  Charlie snagged his line on some
obstruction, and Jake's attempt to work it free failed completely, so he was
forced to cut it--losing hook, line and sinker to the river bottom.  Charlie
didn't even pretend to be disappointed.  More importantly, the camaraderie
Jake had hoped would spring up between the two of them did not happen.  There
were lots of impatient, heavy sighs from Charlie, and Jake's attempts to
jump- start conversation--any conversation--was met with monosyllabic
responses.  Every topic of discussion petered away quickly, until Jake was so
frustrated he wanted to throttle the boy and throw him into the slow-moving
current along with the lost tackle.  It was a silent pair that trudged their
way up the bank and back to their cabin.  "What now?"  Charlie asked his
father as they stacked the fishing equipment in a corner of the porch.  His
expression indicated he'd been indulgent thus far, but had clearly run out of
patience.  "I saw a steak house when we got off the interstate.  Let's wash
up, grab dinner there and then stop at the grocery store.  We'll need food
for tomorrow."

 "What?   You don't want to try to catch our breakfast?

Maybe there are a couple of chickens around here we can run down for eggs.  "
" Just get cleaned up," Jake replied, giving his son a look meant to convey
that he was in no mood for sarcasm.  There was only one bathroom in the
cabin, and while Charlie took a shower, Jake decided to wait his turn by
outfitting the boy's rod with a new line.  He settled in one of the porch
rockers, placed the tackle box on his lap and began poking through the few
items he'd bought.  All things considered, the fishing outing hadn't been a
complete disaster.  At least the hours on the riverbank had given Jake enough
quiet time to think about the future of Bobby's child.  After his
conversation with Isabel this morning, he'd realized that there was very
little chance he could persuade the woman to change her mind about giving up
the baby.  She seemed determined to follow through with her career goals, and
had the circumstances not involved his own nephew, Jake might have admired
that sort of commitment.  But Nora Holloway as a single parent to his
brother's child?  It was possible, he supposed, to leave this place and feel
fairly comfortable that the baby would have a good home with her.

But he still wasn't sold on the idea of turning Bobby's only offspring over
to a stranger, especially someone who'd never even known Bobby.

After his initial shock at Isabel's news, Bobby had quickly warmed to the
idea of becoming a father.  Only the crudest hand of fate had kept him from
returning to the United States and making things right with Isabel.  Fate,
and my own poor judgment.  Jake slammed the door shut on those thoughts and
forced his mind back to the problem at hand.  No, Bobby couldn't come back
and make things right.  But Jake could.  It wasn't too late for him to see to
it that Bobby's son grew up knowing who his father had been, what kind of
family he came from.  If he let the Holloway woman adopt the baby, if Jake
just hopped on the next plane back to Virginia and disappeared, who would
make sure that happened?  Who would tell the kid that his father had been so
bright, such a whiz in school, that he'd won a scholarship to the best
architectural college in the country--won it and refused it--so that he could
go to his brother's alma mater instead?  How would the boy ever know that
Bobby had been the center of every party, every family reunion?  The one who
could be counted on to tell the runniest jokes, the scariest ghost stories.
Did Nora Holloway know that Bobby had been a track star in high school, or
that as a kid he'd wanted to be a magician and had actually once made Aunt
Clarissa's cat disappear before the eyes of the entire family?  Those were
fragments of a life cut too short, too soon, and the kinds of things a child
ought to know about his father.  Didn't Jake owe it to Bobby to see to it
that his kid remembered him as more than just a name on a birth certificate?
I can do it, he thought.  I could become this child's father.  john
forrester, Nora's lawyer and a family friend since high school, called early
the next morning, asking that Nora and Isabel meet him in his office in town
at eleven o'clock.  He remained mysteriously and annoyingly un forthcoming
about the reason for the meeting, simply stating that it involved their
adoption plans and that he'd rather discuss the issue with them in person.
Isabel had an appointment with Dr. Brewster at nine-thirty.  Her bouts of
violent nausea were still a worry, and the doctor didn't want to take any
chances with her health.  After a few tests, the man who had delivered most
of the babies in the county pronounced the baby in fine shape, but he
cautioned Isabel about too much stress and emphasized the need to make
concessions in her life for the baby's sake.  With a list of new instructions
from Dr. Brewster and an I-told-you-so look in Isabel's direction, Nora led
her out of the obstetrician's waiting room and across the street to John
Forrester's law office.  The two women had no more than settled into the
cold, hard chairs in John's office, when he got right to the point.

"I've been contacted by an attorney representing a Jake Burdette.  He claims
to be your baby's uncle, Isabel.  Do you know him?"

"He showed up at the Hideaway the day before yesterday.   He wants me to
reconsider our plans for the adoption."   "As I understand it from the
attorney, Mr. Sanstrom, Jake Burdette wants to adopt his brother's child."
His words, quiet and succinct, pulled a gasp from Isabel and made the blood
run faint in Nora's veins.   She shook her head at him slowly.   "If this is
your idea of a joke, John, it's not a very funny one."   He met her eyes
levelly.   It was one of the things she had always liked about John.   He
never ran away from unpleasantness.   "I wouldn't joke about a thing like
this, Nora.   I know how serious you are about adopting the baby.   Have you
spoken to this man, Isabel?"   "Yes.   But this can't be right.   It's
impossible."   "I'm afraid it's not impossible at all."

Nora's thoughts were still reeling.  "Jake Burdette wants to raise Isabel's
child as his own?"  she repeated.  "It seems so.  His attorney called me this
morning to discuss whether you were seriously intent on the adoption."  A
hot, drenching surge of anger rose within her.

"Seriously intent?  I hope you set him straight."  She turned toward Isabel,
who had begun to cry the moment John had informed them of this latest
development and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Grabbing a tissue out of the box on John's desk, Nora wedged it into the
girl's hands.  "Stop crying, Izzie," she said, struggling to control her own
emotions.  "Upsetting yourself won't help matters one bit."

"I can't help it," Isabel sniffed.   "All I seem to be able to do lately is
cry.   Oh, I can't believe he'd do this.   Especially after I told him to let
things be."   Nora felt her cheeks go hotter.   "He's already discussed this
with you?"   Isabel nodded, looking more miserable by the second.   "When?"
"Yesterday.   While you were at the vet's office."   "Why didn't you tell
me?"   "I didn't want to upset you.

And I told him no.  I thought he understood that it isn't what I want.  "
Isabel turned her head toward John, favoring him with a sullen, angry look.
" I'm this baby's mother.  Doesn't what I want matter at all?  " " Of course
it does, Isabel," John said softly.  " But"" Well, what I want is to have
Nora adopt this child.  It's as simple as that.  " John shook his head.  "
I'm afraid it may not be that simple.  " Nora's head snapped around.  Before
she could speak, she had to take a deep breath to ease the tightness in her
chest.  " Can he really keep me from adopting the baby?  " " It's possible.
If he decides to go to court.  He can try to prove he can provide a better
home for the child, or that you would be an unfit mother.  " " He'd have a
hard time proving that," Isabel interjected with the first real show of
spirit.  " I don't doubt that for a minute," John agreed with a smile.

"But he is blood kin to the baby, which would definitely be a consideration
for a judge.  Whenever possible, the courts like to keep families together."
Nora's throat was so tight she had to force the words out.  "I'm not going to
give up without a fight.  What can we do to stop him?"

"I'm afraid you can't stop him from petitioning the judge.   Between now and
the time the baby is born , all we can do is try to convince him that a
lengthy court battle would be in no one's best interest.   Least of all the
child's."   Nora nodded vaguely, although it frightened her to think how
costly this fight might be--and in more ways than just financial.

"I've done some checking," John went on.  "I think I should warn you,
Burdette has one of the best attorneys in the country.  Gregg Sanstrom is a
shark.  He headed up the man's custody case against his ex-wife.  And it
never even went to court."  Charlie's claim in the rehab shed suddenly came
back to Nora.  "He took me away from her.  Just to make her mad."  Could Jake
Burdette really be so insensitive, so cruel that he would do such a thing?
She remembered now why Thea's name had sounded familiar to her.  Nora had
read that, in addition to commanding a record-setting salary from the
cosmetics line, the woman had been embroiled in ugly legal wranglings with
her ex-husband and had unexpectedly conceded defeat just before the case went
before a judge.

Surely Thea, a public figure with numerous resources available to her, would
not have given up custody of her son unless Jake Burdette and his legal team
had been ruthless, unstoppable.  "If you wish to consider hiring another
lawyer..."  John cut across her thoughts.  "Someone more experienced..."  She
rose suddenly, shaking her head vehemently.  "I have faith in you, John.
Please.  Will you help me get through this?"

John had risen as well, and he came around the desk, his arms outstretched to
encompass her.  He had always been a good friend, and she suddenly wished
that years ago, when they had dated, there had been some spark between them.
He gave her an encouraging smile.  "Of course I will, Nora."

 "I won't give up," Nora repeated, more for her own benefit than his.

He gripped her hands in his.  "I'll do my best," he replied.  "Now, why
don't you two leave this matter to me for a few days?  Perhaps I can make Mr.
Burdette see reason."

"I'll make him see reason," Isabel said, wiping away the last of her tears.
"Just wait until I get back to the Hideaway.   He'll wish he'd never heard
of me."   John looked at Nora uncertainly, and she shook her head.   "You'll
do nothing of the kind.   I told you I wouldn't allow him to upset you or the
baby, and I meant it.   Remember what Dr. Brewster said?   No stress, and
lots of rest.   When we get home, you're going to put your feet up in a dark
room, and I'm going to make you some of that tea you like so much."

"But somebody needs to set that man straight."

 "Don't worry," Nora said with a grim smile.   "Somebody will."

CHAPTER SIX

As promised, Nora saw Isabel settled in her bedroom with her feet up and a
cup of herbal tea at her elbow as soon as they returned home.

Then she headed straight for Cabin Two.  Memorial Day weekend, the official
opening of the Hideaway's summer season, was only two weeks away and already
the sun's intoxicating heat lay warm upon the back of Nora's blouse.  She
hardly noticed it as she strode down the pathway that connected the cabins.
From the corner of her eye she spotted movement in the direction of the
spring pool.  She realized that it was Jake and his son, coming up the
railway-tie steps.  She detoured in that direction and met them halfway on
the shady path.  They wore bathing trunks and towels draped around their
necks.  The clear springwater dripping from their bodies pooled at their feet
as they came to a halt in front of her.  Jake gave her a friendly smile.
"You should have warned us that the water's so cold," he said.  "We've got
goose bumps on top of our goose bumps."

That might have been true for Charlie, whose pasty white body didn't look as
though it saw much exercise or sun, but it was completely inaccurate for Jake
Burdette.  In spite of her anger, Nora no- deed that he had muscles on top of
muscles--not goose bumps.  His bare chest, broad and lightly covered with wet
hair, created a tingling in the pit of her stomach.  The fact that he was in
good shape didn't really surprise her.  The fact that she could be so furious
with him and still notice how great-looking he was did.  "I'd like to speak
to you, Mr. Burdette," she said.  "Don't tell me our swim has violated some
kind of Hideaway rule?"  When her only response was silence, one of his
eyebrows lifted slightly.  He looked toward his son.  "Charles, how about
making us some lunch while I stay here and try to figure out what has Miss
Holloway looking so annoyed?"  The boy grumbled something under his breath
and continued up the steps.  When he was out of earshot, Nora turned her
attention back to Jake.  "Mr.  Burdette" "Make it Jake, or we're not having
this conversation," the man said, holding a hand up in front of her.  "And
can we talk in the sun, or is it your intention that I freeze to death?"  The
tingling in her stomach had disappeared, thank heaven, allowing her to
maintain some control of her thoughts.  Abruptly she turned away and headed
toward the small, sunny observation deck that jutted out over the slope.
While she sat down on one of the wooden benches, he moved across the deck to
the railing's edge, leaning back against it as if he didn't have a care in
the world.  "Now then," he said, tilting his head in her direction.  "What's
the problem?  Another drain need fixing?"

"You can drop the innocent act, Mr. Burdette ... Jake.  It doesn't work."
"I beg your pardon?"  His attitude rankled.  "Don't pretend you don't know
what I'm talking about.  All I want to know now is, what do you think you're
doing?"

"I'm trying to make conversation with a very hostile lady.   And not
succeeding, by the looks of that frown."   She stood, approaching him with
her head thrown back.   "Isabel and I have just returned from my lawyer's
office.   He's told me what you're trying to do."   He scowled and pursed his
lips thoughtfully.   After an extended silence, he said,

"I apologize.  I didn't realize that Gregg--my attorney--would be in touch
with your attorney so quickly.  I wanted to talk to you first.  I spoke to
Isabel yesterday, and I was hoping to speak to both of you sometime today.
Together."

"I doubt that will be possible.   Isabel's so upset by your plans she's
practically incoherent."   Idly, he plucked a dead leaf from the railing and
twirled it in his hands.   "It wasn't my intention to upset her.   Or you.
I would like for us to discuss the future of Bobby's child in a calm,
constructive manner."   "There's nothing to discuss.   What you want is out
of the question."   He tossed the leaf away and looked at her severely.   "Is
it?"   "Let me ask you something.   Did you come here with the idea of
adopting Isabel's baby?"

"Not just Isabel's baby.  My brother's as well."

"Just answer the question."   "You know I didn't."   "So am I to believe
that in the course of forty- eight hours, you've suddenly decided that
fatherhood is absolutely essential to your future happiness?"   "I'm already
a father."   "Yes, you are.   And from what I've seen of your relationship
with Charlie, I'd say your success there is debatable," she said in a cold,
curt tone.   He stiffened, and his features went so dark that' she feared for
one moment he might walk off.   Instead, he said quietly, "Nora, I'm going to
overlook that remark because I know you're angry with me.   But let's keep
this discussion civil, or from now on all our conversations will have to take
place in the presence of our attorneys.

Agreed?  " She drew in a deep, calming breath.  " I'm sorry," she said.

"That comment was unfair and out of line."  She moved away from him,
returning to the wooden bench.  "But I can't let you have this baby," she
said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.  He jerked the towel from
around his neck.  "What's so important about this particular child?  Why
don't you have a child of your own?  You're young and attractive.  You seem
in good health" -- "Oh, thank you very much!"  she exclaimed with an indrawn
breath of pure outrage.  "Would you like to check my teeth as well?"  He
scowled.  "I only meant that there's no reason to think that you'll never get
married and have children of your own.  But if you're determined to adopt a
baby, surely there are others whose families" -- "For heaven's sake, we're
not talking about peaches at a produce stand!"  She gritted her teeth,
knowing that if she didn't hang on to her temper, she would never be able to
convince this man of anything.  "Isabel and I came to this decision months
ago.  But even before that, I've spent every waking moment planning for this
baby's arrival, carefully guarding his development, making sure Is- abel does
everything she needs to in order to deliver a healthy child.  And now you
expect me to step aside and allow you to take him away?"  She shook her head
at him.  "Tell me why I should, especially considering that Isabel herself
wants me to adopt her baby."  He crossed the distance between them and
settled beside her on the bench.  She didn't look at him, and unexpectedly,
he took her hand in his.  His grip was strong and warm, but her thoughts were
jostling together in a dark, fathomless flood of fear and hurt, so that she
was hardly aware of the contact.  Feeling as trapped as the caged eagle she
had transported to her rehab shed the day before, she turned to look at him.
He grimaced.  "I don't doubt the love and care you've given this baby, Nora.
But for all that, you can't give the child a sense of who he is, where he
comes from.  This child is my family.  He's the only offspring that will ever
bear my brother's blood.  I'm not sure I even understand all the reasons it's
important to me, but I can't let Bobby's child slip away to be raised by a
stranger.  No matter how well intentioned you might be."

"Will knowing his place on the Burdette family tree be more important than
the love I can give him?"   "Do you think I won't love him as my own?"

"I think you feel it's your duty.  Something you owe to your brother's
memory."

"You're wrong.   It's much more than that."   "Can you deny that right now
you're a man struggling to reach your own son?   How will it help to have a
Newborn baby to look after as well?   And what about your work?   How will
you raise two children when you're halfway around the world building
bridges?"   "That's no longer an issue.   Part of the reason I couldn't come
here sooner was that I've spent the last few months reorganizing my life.   I
no longer have to make extended trips overseas.   After Bobby..."   He
frowned and looked away for a moment.   Then he began again.   "I'm ready to
settle down."   She gave him a skeptical look.   "As a single father with an
armload of responsibilities?"   "Is that any different from being a single
mother with an armload of responsibilities?"   He glanced down at their
hands.   When he lifted his eyes to her again, they were speculative,
glittering, so that he seemed to have the sunlight inside him.   "Perhaps we
should pool our talents and raise the boys together."

He completed that suggestion with a wry smile, and if the sunshine did
something intriguing to his eyes, Jake Burdette's compelling, male nearness
did something even more interesting to her insides.  Sitting there, in the
warm, golden stillness, Nora's heart gave a little thump.

She hated that he could have that effect on her.  She pulled her hand out of
his grasp.  Taking a moment to modulate her voice, she said at last,

"I want this baby, Jake.  Isabel wants me to have this baby.  I won't give up
without a fight."  She watched his jaw tighten.  "I don't want it to come to
that," he said softly.  "Perhaps there's no other way."  She ran her tongue
over suddenly dry lips.  Drawing a deep breath, she looked him hard in the
eyes.  "My attorney has already warned me what to expect.  I'm afraid you'll
have a difficult time proving that I'd be an unfit mother.  Nothing much
happens in Blue Devil Springs.  There's nothing in my past that a judge
would find unacceptable.  Can the same be said for yours?"

Jake's lips flattened.  "Does it really have to get so ugly between us?"
"That's up to you, I suppose."  He looked down, silent and pensive.  When he
finally looked up at her, his eyes were filled with kindness, and a pity that
she found almost unbearable.  "You can't win this, Nora," he said gently.
"Let it go."  Her heart spasmed as she tried to dismiss the gnawing fear that
he was right.  "I can't."

Fighting the tears that threatened to obscure her vision, she stood and moved
away from him.  She leaned on the railing.  A few feet below and fifty yards
away, she could see the bubbling eruption where the headwaters of the spring
found the surface of the Hideaway's natural pool.  Concentrate on that, she
told herself.  Don't think about anything else.  "I'm sorry," she heard him
say.  "I wish it could be different.  In another time, another place" -- "I
think we understand each other."

"I plan to stay in Blue Devil Springs for a little while.   Charlie is
through with school for the summer, and we can use the time together.   If
you'd like me to find other accommodations..."

She swung around, giving him the impersonal innkeeper's smile.  "That won't
be necessary.  Whether you remain or not makes no difference to me, as long
as you pay the bill.  All I ask is that you refrain from upsetting Isabel
any more than you already have."  He nodded, and Nora strode off the deck and
back onto the path.  She sensed him following a short distance behind her,
but she didn't look back.  By the time she reached the top of the slope,
every painful heartbeat was zigzagging in her breast, but she felt
surprisingly calmer for having released some of her anger and frustration.
She felt stronger, more focused.  There might be a heck of a fight ahead of
her, but Jake Burdette hadn't won yet.  Larry came to meet her barking and
running in circles excitedly.  The dog rarely acted this way toward anyone.
Only her brother could make him-- It couldn't be.  Nora lifted her head
quickly toward the main lodge.  Standing at the bottom of the steps, backpack
at his feet, the slight breeze lifting the unruly tangle of dark hair off his
shoulders, was Trip.  He spotted her, and his long legs ate up the distance
between them.  Nora returned his broad smile.  Her spirits lifted a little.
She loved her brother, and right now she was damn glad to see him.  He pulled
her into his arms, lifting her clear off the ground.  She kissed him soundly,
and when he turned her loose, she rushed into speech, her head full of a
million questions.  "What are you doing here?"  she asked first.  "I wasn't
expecting you back for months.  How did you get here?"

"I hopped a bus from New York to Tallahassee and hitched the rest of the
way.   I came back because I missed you, silly."   Nora tucked her chin,
giving him a suspicious look.   "You ran out of money."   He laughed.   "I
never can fool you, can I?   Yeah, I ran out of money--because the thieves
who ransacked my campsite took everything.   Even my extra set of clothes.
The Outback of Australia might be a cheap place to live, but everyone wants
your stuff."   ' "Thieves?   Did they hurt you?"   Nora asked, running a
concerned hand down the side of Trip's face where a trio of tiny new scars
marred the corner of his chin.   "Nan."   He fingered the half-healed marks.
"A bunch of rocks on the river bottom tried to break my face when I got
dumped on the Sacrament.   That river was one hell of a challenge, sis.

Tore up two kayaks before I got down it completely on the third try.  I have
to admit, even I was thinking this adventuring thing might have been a huge
mistake.  " " But now you're back, and I'm so glad to see you.  " " We have
to talk.  " She knew what that meant.  Money.  But not yet.  She leaned into
her brother's arms again, and this time she was the one hugging him as
tightly as she could.  " Who's that?  " Trip asked over the top of her head.
" Don't tell me we've got paying guests?  "

Without lifting her head, Nora glanced to the side to see Jake Burdette
coming toward them.  "I guess you can call him a guest," she muttered.
"Let's just say that while you've been in the Outback meeting your challenge,
I've been here... meeting mine."  it annoyed Jake that he was so interested
in the newcomer who now held Nora Holloway tightly in his arms.  Boyfriend?

Ex-husband?  What did it matter who the guy was?  Considering the
conversation he and Nora had just had, he should make a beeline for his
cabin.  Instead, he let himself catch the man's eye, nodding to acknowledge
the fellow's friendly interest, then strode toward the couple.  He saw the
change in Nora's face as she realized he intended to join them.  Her mouth
tightened, and her eyebrows were drawn as though she were in pain.  Even from
a distance--and in spite of the fact that her head was practically buried in
the man's chest--he could see pink along the rise of her cheekbones.  "I'm
Trip," the man said as Jake reached them.  "Are you a guest here?"  Jake took
the man's hand.

"My son and I checked in the day before yesterday."

"Great!   Glad to have you here."   He glanced down, offering a teasing
smile to Nora.

"My sister treating you all right?"  Sister, huh?  That information pleased
Jake more than it should, and he was turning the reasons for that around in
his head even as he heard himself reply,

"I can't remember when I've received such a welcome."

"I see you've been brave enough to try the springs.   There's a lot to do in
the area, particularly if you like water.   I'm sure Nora's filled you in."
"As I said, your sister's been very hospitable," Jake stated, then had to
work to hide a smile as he watched the annoyed flush spread across Nora's
creamy complexion.   "And I'll bet she's full of suggestions on what I can
do... with my time."   "Will you and your son be here over Memorial Day
weekend?"   Trip said.   "You should plan to stay at least that long."   Nora
stopped just short of jumping visibly at that suggestion.   "Mr.   Burdette
has quite a demanding schedule.   I doubt if he can spare" -- "Actually, I've
been thinking I deserve a little time off."   He turned his attention back to
Trip Holloway.

"What happens Memorial Day weekend?"

"The Springs incorporates the annual Founder's Day celebration into the
holiday.

This place should be jumping by then--10K runs, all kinds of contests and
kids' activities, the best food in the South.  Oh, and you don't want to miss
Blue Devil's Bash and Dash Boat Race.  Best part of the whole weekend.  " " A
boat race?  " " Not a real one--at least, not anything that uses what you'd
consider an actual boat.  Anything that floats qualifies.  You'd be surprised
at some of the contraptions people think will get them down the river.  Last
year's winner was a guy who strapped two coolers to his feet and used them as
floating shoes.  This year I was thinking of making some kind of raft with
inner tubes.  " He looked at Nora.  " What do you think, sis?  " " I think
I'll be fishing you out of the river again.  " Her brother laughed, a hardy
sound that took no offense.  " Wouldn't be the first time.  How about it, Mr.
Burdette?  You think you're up to the challenge?  " Jake watched the emotions
that warred in Nora's expression.  Clearly she was indulgent with her
brother, who seemed to be the kind of fellow who'd never met a stranger.  It
was also quite plain that she hoped Trip wouldn't encourage Jake's
participation.  He made the decision quickly and told himself it was for
Charlie's sake.  " I think I could do better than a couple of boards and
inner tubes," Jake promised.  " And it sounds like fun--something that my son
and I could do together.  "

"Great," Trip said enthusiastically.  "I'll pick up entry forms and a list of
rules the next time I'm in town.  As long as you don't use anything that
comes directly off a boat, you can build whatever you want.  We've always got
scraps around here that you can help yourself to.  We don't mind, do we,
Nora?"  He smiled again at his sister, and Jake wondered if the man was
myopic, because anyone could see that Nora Holloway minded very much.  from
his place on the couch, Charlie looked up at his father as if he'd lost his
mind.  "Build a boat?"  he repeated to make sure he'd heard right.  "Out of
scraps?"

"Why not?"  his father asked, and he had on his patient-parent face now, the
one Charlie had grown to hate.  "Don't you think we can do it?"

 "Yeah, we can do it.   But why would we?   I mean, really.   Why?"

"Because I think it would be fun."

"No, you don't.   You think if we work on this together it'll make
everything all right.   It won't.   Not ever."   He turned away quickly,
because his throat was full of tears all of a sudden.   He didn't want to
cry.   He didn't know how his father felt, but his mother hated crybabies.
Behind him, his father sighed wearily.   "Charles, I know you'd rather be
with your mother.   But what's done is done.   Now, you can spend your time
trying to shut me out, or we meet each other halfway.   What do you say?"
He could think of a few things to say, things he'd heard in his mother's
apartment from people who never remembered that there was a kid present.
Charlie didn't dare say any of those things.   His father didn't seem to have
a sense of humor when it came to kids and bad language.   He settled for
glaring over his shoulder and burying his chin in the pillow that he clutched
against his chest.   "Leave me alone."   "Come on, Charles.

You're too bright to spend so much time sulking over things you can't change.
"

Throwing the pillow across the room, Charlie faced his father.  "My mother
will change things.  Any day now you'll be hearing from her lawyer.  You
probably would've already if this stupid place had a phone."

"Is that what Thea told you?"   "She didn't have to."   "That's because she
knows she has to accept what the courts" -- "She doesn't care what the courts
say.   She's famous, and people listen to her.

She's just busy right now, so she can't fix things so fast.  " His father
shook his head.  " Not this time.  I'm afraid you're stuck with me, pal.  "
Charlie focused on a spot over his father's shoulder and tried to ignore the
queasy feeling in his stomach that told him he was probably hearing the
truth.  He wondered what his father would say if he admitted what he'd done
yesterday while his dad was in the grocery store, the collect telephone call
he'd made just because he couldn't stand it any longer.  There was an
extended, uncomfortable silence that neither of them tried to fill.  Finally
Charlie said sarcastically,

"Is it all right if I take a walk, or do you want me to stay where you can
keep an eye on me?"  His father frowned but nodded slowly, and Charlie didn't
wait for any further permission.  He banged through the screen door and
didn't slow his stride until he'd nearly reached the main lodge.  Tears
started to cloud his eyes; He knuckled them away with his fists, knowing that
they were useless.  Why didn't his father understand that Thea needed her
son?  She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't always take care of herself.
Sometimes she seemed like a little girl looking for attention.  And when that
happened, Charlie had always been there for her.  What would she do now?  Who
would look after her?  With no answer to those questions, Charlie detoured
around the lodge and headed for the rehab shed.  At least being close to
actual wild animals wasn't completely a yawner, and if Nora was there, he
didn't mind keeping her company.  She seemed kind of nice, and not too pushy
if you didn't feel like talking.  Which he didn't.  As soon as he opened the
door, the animals inside the shed started making a fuss, as though they'd
been waiting for him.  His spirits lifted a little.  In New York he hadn't
been allowed to keep a pet.  His mother was allergic, and even if she hadn't
been, she wasn't an animal person.  Not that there was anything wrong with
that, but it would have been nice to have had a pet.  In one corner of the
room was a huge cage that hadn't been there yesterday morning.  The biggest
bird Charlie'd ever seen eyeballed him as though it had spotted its next
meal.  Charlie guessed it was a bald eagle, although it didn't look very
proud.  Just kind of sad, with one of its wings hanging at an odd angle, and
its cap of white feathers rumpled and dingy-looking.

There was a rustle of hay, and Charlie turned his attention toward the deer
pen.  Marjorie had come forward to rub her body against the wire.

Charlie almost reached over the edge of the pen to pet the deer, then
remembered what Nora had said.  "Sorry, Marj," he told her.  "You gotta stay
wild."  Marjorie's liquid brown eyes looked up at him pleadingly, and Charlie
plunged his hands into his back pockets to keep temptation from overtaking
him.  "You've got a rehabber's natural instincts," a voice said from the
door.  He whirled to find Nora there.  "I was just looking," he said quickly.
"I didn't touch anything."  Nora smiled and came farther into the room.  "I
know.  I wouldn't have put you to work helping me if I didn't think I could
trust you."  The comment made him feel kind of good inside, even though he
could also feel his face growing hotter and hotter.  As a distraction, he
moved toward the eagle's cage.  "I haven't named him yet," Nora remarked,
joining him.

"I was thinking Baldy."  Charlie made a face at her.  "Baldy?  That's
probably what every bald eagle gets named.  What about Leo?"

"Why Leo?"   '"Cause nobody would name a bird that.   And 'cause he's got a
nose like a guy that used to date my mom.   Kinda hooked on the end."   He
nodded as the decision took hold in his brain.   "Yeah.   Leo."   "I guess I
can live with that."

Nora moved away to rummage through a cabinet filled with the kinds of things
Marisela kept in the kitchen drawer at home: string, half-burned candles,
adhesive tape, scissors.  Finally she pulled out a wide roll of duct tape.
"What are you going to do with that?"  Charlie asked.

"I've found a better branch for his perch, but it has to be wrapped so that
the rough edges of the wood can't hurt him.  Want to help?"

 "Sure.

What's wrong with him?  " " He broke his wing when he ran into some wire and
he hasn't been able to hunt for food, but as soon as the vet's splint takes
hold and we put some meat on him, he'll be okay.  " From the worktable Nora
picked up a thick branch that was long enough to fit across the width of the
eagle's cage.  She handed it to him, positioning his hands at each end of the
wood.  " Hold this out in front of you while I wrap it.  All right?  " He
nodded.  Starting at his left hand, Nora slowly began winding the silver tape
around the branch, smoothing down the edges as she went so that the seams of
the tape seemed to disappear.  The wood, crooked and narrow in some places,
felt stronger with every turn she made.  Concentrating on holding the branch
steady, Charlie asked,

"You know that book you were telling me about?  The one with the deer?"

 "The Yearling?"   Nora replied.   "What about it?"

' "Is there a library I can borrow it from?  I mean, there's not much to do
around here, so I figure I might as well read something."

Smiling, she looked away from the tape for a moment, and he had the feeling
that he had pleased her somehow.  "As a matter of fact, it's in the
Hideaway's library up at the main lodge.  Check the bookshelf nearest the
fireplace."

 "I don't know if I'll finish it," he hedged.

"I might not like it."  "But then again, you might."  "We'll see."

"You know, Charlie..."  She inclined her head toward the deer pen.

"I'm planning to release Marjorie in a couple of days.  Would you like to
come along and help?  I could pack a picnic lunch."

 "I guess.

Nothing better to do.  Unless my dad starts making me build this stupid boat
he wants me to help him with.  " " For the boat race," she stated, and her
voice sounded flat.  " I'll bet he thinks it will make me like him better.  "
Her eyes lifted to meet his.  " You don't like your father?  " " He's all
right, I guess.  I mean, he doesn't beat me or anything.  "

"Well, that's a plus," she said with a grin.  "Move your hands in so I can
do the ends."  He did as she asked.  "It's just that he doesn't understand.
My mother needs me.  He doesn't."

"Why would you think that?"   She sounded surprised.   "He was gone for five
years after they got a divorce.   It didn't bother him then that he only saw
me for a couple of weeks a year.   Now, all of a sudden, he wants to be
Superdad.

My mom says he only wanted custody so he could make her look bad in public.
So that people will hate her.  " Nora stopped winding the tape and snipped
off the end.  " He doesn't seem like that kind of person.  "

Charlie frowned.  "My mom said it.  So it's true."

"Maybe your mother was just angry with him.   What was your father like
before your parents divorced?   Do you remember?"   "Not really," he said,
but even as he spoke, he knew it was a lie.   He did remember.   Some things
real clear.

Ice-cream cones shared in the car.  The two of them sailing toy boats in a
pond.  The soft rumble of his father's chest against his ear when he read
stories aloud.  In spite of Charlie's determination not to remember the good
times with his father, he found the pictures flipping through his head
anyway.  Nora was watching him closely now, and he had the feeling she was
very interested in his answer, though he couldn't figure out why.  He handed
her the branch, now completely covered in silver tape.  "He used to take me
to football games," he said, and even though he didn't intend it to come out
that way, he found himself adding enthusiastically,

"And once we went to a basketball game and sat right behind the players."
"You like sports?"

"Not anymore.  My mother says contact sports are for people who haven't
realized that we've evolved from rock-throwing cave dwellers."

"That seems a little harsh."   "My mother's really smart, and if she says
it" -- "Then it must be true?"   Nora finished for him.   "Yeah."   "Is it
possible that your mother's wrong sometimes?"   He scowled, not happy that
someone he'd begun to like should question his mother.   "No."   She lifted
her hands in mock surrender.   "Hey, I was just asking."   "You're on the
same side as my father."   Charlie could tell she didn't like that idea.
She made a small sound of disagreement and swung away from him to toss the
branch on the worktable.   "No," she said very firmly.

"I'm definitely not on your father's side."

"Well, that's good, 'cause you just ask my mom.   He only likes to hurt
people."   Nora turned back to face him, and he was surprised how upset she
looked.   "I sure hope you're wrong about that, Charlie."

CHAPTER.  SEVEN on monday, in spite of the fact that the time she'd been
dreading for ages had finally come, Nora was almost relieved at the thought
of today's trip.  Releasing Marjorie back to the forest would be painful,
heart-wrenching, but Nora would welcome any excuse to be away from the
Hideaway--and Jake Burdette--for a little while.  As she slid containers of
fried chicken and coleslaw into the picnic hamper, she smiled grimly.  For
today at least, she and Charlie would escape.

When she had the truck packed with her art supplies, the cooler and a
blanket, she walked down to Cabin Two.  Actually, she was looking forward to
spending time with Charlie.  He wasn't a bad kid, just a little arrogant and
a lot spoiled.  But he was bright and inquisitive, and it was fan to catch
glimpses of the boy he could be, to see him shed that veneer of
sophistication he'd adopted from years of living with his mother in New York.
Before she could reach the cabin, Charlie came rushing out the front door to
meet her.  She thought at first he was just excited, but as she got closer,
his expression reminded her of the expendable teenager in the first ten
minutes of a horror film.  She raised her eyebrows at him.  "What's the
matter?"

"You're not going to believe it," the boy said in a solemn undertone.   They
had reached the porch, and just then the screen door squealed open.   When
Nora looked up, she saw that Jake stood at the top of the porch steps,
dressed in khaki shorts and a T-shirt.

"Good morning," he greeted warmly.  "Good morning," Nora returned in a wary
voice.  "Did Charlie tell you where we were heading today?"

"Yes, he did," he said, rubbing his hands together.  "I can't wait to get
there and check out the fishing."

"I beg your pardon?"   Beside her Charlie made a sound of complete disgust.
"I'm going with you," Jake replied.   "No, you're not."   The words popped
out before she could stop them.   "Sorry.   It's a package deal.   Both of
us, or nothing."   "Why?"

He didn't look in the least offended by her abruptness.  "I don't know
anything about this place you're going to.  Charles is my responsibility, and
I can't just send him off with you and hope you know what you're doing.  It's
too dangerous."

"Dangerous?"   Nora parroted.   She made no effort to hide the fact that she
found that excuse ludicrous.   "It's a national forest.   It's visited by
millions of tourists every year."   "Are there snakes?"   "Yes, but" --
"Bears?"

"Some, but they're not like the ones in Yellow- stone.  They stay away" --
"Charles is a city kid, Nora.  He's not used to being out in the wilderness.
Suppose he gets lost?"

"Dad!"   Charlie exclaimed, obviously embarrassed.   Nora narrowed her eyes.
Surely Jake wasn't just being difficult because they had parted on less
than friendly terms the other day.   Even he must be able to see how eager
Charlie was to take this trip.   "I'm not in the habit of losing people," she
said, striving for patience.   "The place I intend to release Marjorie is one
of my favorites.   I've led hiking trips out there for years.   I know it
like I know every blade of grass here at the Hideaway."

"Sorry.  That's not good enough."

"Dad..."   Nora placed a calming hand on Charlie's shoulder.   The boy's
father saw it and tilted a glance at his son.   "I thought you didn't want to
have anything to do with this place," he said.   Charlie looked down, biting
his bottom lip.   "Nora needs my help," he muttered.   Jake's eyes slipped
back to Nora.   She thought she saw a spark of something in his soft brown
gaze, but she couldn't be sure what it was.   His eyebrow lifted.   "Is that
true?"

"Yes."

"Fine.   I won't get in your way.   You won't even know I'm there."   Oh yes
I will!   "No," she said, hoping to bluff him into conceding defeat.
Charlie turned a desperate, pleading glance toward Nora as his father opened
the screen door and started to head back into the cabin.   She was furious
with the man, suspecting that he knew perfectly well she would have to call
him back.   No matter how much she wanted to avoid Jake Burdette, how could
she disappoint Charlie?   If she didn't agree quickly-- "Mr.   Burdette," she
called up the steps before he could disappear inside.   "Jake."   He turned.
"Yes."   "You can come," she agreed slowly, trying unsuccessfully to keep
grudging acceptance out of her voice.   "Great.   I'll get my tackle box and
poles," he said with a broad smile.   He reappeared in such a short time that
Nora knew he'd had his gear waiting just behind the door.   She stowed it
behind the driver's seat with her art supplies.   Without a word passing
between them, they headed for the rehab shed.   Tail swishing, ears up,
Marjorie stood in the middle of the pen as though she knew something
important was about to take place.   Jake and Charlie watched while Nora
removed a vial of medicine from the small refrigerator.   Shaking the bottle,
she rummaged through a drawer until she found what she was looking for--a
clean syringe the vet had given her to use when this time came.   "I'm going
to give her a light sedative so we can get her in and out of the truck
without upsetting her," Nora explained as she inserted the needle into the
bottle.   She motioned her head toward the deer pen.   ' "Charlie, will you
take some of that hay and make a nice, soft bed in the back of the truck?
Up near the cab."   The boy nodded and moved cautiously toward the pen.
Marjorie sidled away as he slipped the latch and entered.   Scooping large
handfuls of straw, he began making the first of several trips to the truck.
"Can I do anything to help?"   Jake asked as Nora placed the vial back in the
fridge.   She gave him a sidelong glance.   "Just stay out of the way."
Jake smiled at her.   "Why do I get the feeling that you mean all the time,
and not just right now?"   She swung to face him just before she entered the
pen.   With a glance out the window to make sure Charlie was out of earshot,
she said,

"Look, you manipulated your way into this trip, but that doesn't mean I have
to like it."

"I have good reasons for coming along."   "I don't doubt it.   You wouldn't
want to miss an opportunity to make my life miserable."   "That's not what I
had in mind."   "Then, what?"   "I know Charlie has-been spending a lot of
time with you in here, and I haven't minded because I figured it would keep
him from complaining about having nothing to do.   But when he came into the
cabin last night after being with you, he was more animated than I can ever
remember seeing him.   He'd never admit it, but something about this place is
starting to grow on him.   He was actually civil to me this morning at
breakfast.   Whatever's caused that, I want to be part of it.   This little
excursion today--anything we can do together--can only help to build our
relationship."   She looked at him accusingly.

"You knew I wouldn't stop you from joining us if it meant he couldn't come,
didn't you?"  He conceded that fact with a tentative smile.  "I was hoping
you'd put aside your personal dislike for me for his sake."

She snorted.  "If this is where you think I'll say I don't dislike you,
you're wasting your time."  Through the window she could see Charlie coming
back up the path.  She jerked her head toward the boy.  "Him, I like."  Jake
laughed.  "Refreshingly honest.  No wonder my son enjoys your company."
"He's probably just killing time."

"Maybe.   But are you aware that he went up to the lodge the other day and
came back with a book?   Said you recommended it."   Surprised, Nora pivoted.
"I did.

But I wasn't sure"-- " He was up late reading it, too.  It was the first time
I've seen him spend time concentrating on anything besides video games.  You
seem to have a good influence on him.  " She lifted her eyebrows and gave him
a smile.  " That's one of the reasons why I'll make a great mother.  " If he
intended to refute that or make any other comment, he didn't get the chance.
Charlie had returned and, by some unspoken agreement, neither Jake or Nora
wanted to discuss the possibility of a legal battle in front of the boy.

While Jake and Charlie watched outside the pen, Nora moved forward slowly.
"Come on, Marjorie," she called in a soft, reassuring tone.

The deer jerked a few times, snorted loudly, but eventually took cautious
steps in Nora's direction.  Nora put out her hand, and the deer allowed her
to stroke its neck.  "Last time, little girl.  You're going home."  She slid
the needle into the deer's hide.  Marjorie hardly seemed to notice.  The
animal's legs buckled in no time.

Kneeling, Nora caught her as she fell and eased her over on her side.

Stroking the deer's head, she said,

"Come on in, Charlie.  Now's your chance."  Charlie rushed into the stall.
Jake was right behind him.

The boy knelt and ran his hand down Marjorie's neck.  "Are you sure she can
make it on her own?  She doesn't look very big or strong."

"She'll be fine," Nora assured him.   Opening Marjorie's mouth, she pulled
the deer's tongue forward, then slipped it sideways so that it protruded
between her teeth.   "We don't want her swallowing her tongue while she's
out, or have it obstruct her airway," Nora told him.   "Can I count on you to
make sure it stays there?"   Charlie made a face.   Then he nodded and
grinned.   "She looks goofy.   Like a drunk in the cartoons."   "You ought to
see what you look like when you're asleep," Jake said behind him.   The boy
laughed at that, and Nora could tell that the reaction surprised Jake.

When she was certain that the deer was fully sedated, Nora slipped her arms
under Marjorie's body, preparing to carry her to the truck.  The animal
wasn't very big, but the dead weight made her seem inordinately heavy.

"I'll do that," Jake said, beside her now, nudging her out of the way.

"No.  She's my responsibility."  "Yes, I know."  He winked at her.

"Pretend she's a rusty faucet that needs fixing."  She wanted to protest
further, but it seemed silly to take such a stand when he obviously could
make a quicker job of it.  Besides, suppose she ended up dropping the animal?
If poor Marjorie ended up with a concussion, she wouldn't care one bit that
Nora's pride had remained intact.  As though they knew she wouldn't be
returning, the other animals in the rehab shed began making a horrible racket
as Jake carried the deer to the truck.  Nora and Charlie kept pace with him
so that they could guard her limp head while he maneuvered her into place.
Charlie begged to ride in the back, and Jake agreed, as long as the boy
promised not to move around.

With a whoop of delighted excitement, Charlie bounded into the truck.

As for Nora, she found herself sitting up front with Jake, in what suddenly
seemed to be an excruciatingly small space.  Neither one of them said a word.
Bumping slowly onto the main highway, she wondered how long she could
pretend she was completely alone.  Evidently not long.  Jake had been
slipping occasional looks back through the rear window of the truck cab, and
now he looked at her and shook his head.

"You know, if you'd have asked me a week ago if I thought my son would ever
willingly ride in the back of an open truck, I'd have called you crazy."
"Maybe you just don't know him as well as you think you do."

He shook his head.  "I don't feel I know him at all anymore.  But I'm trying
to change that.  If he would just meet me halfway," he muttered almost to
himself.  Before she could think about whether she was prying, Nora asked,

"What was your ex-wife like, before she became so famous?"  He frowned.  "She
was always exceptionally beautiful, so she was terribly spoiled by everyone.
Her parents.  Me, at first.  She never liked to be told no, I remember that
well enough.  Maybe that's where Charlie gets his stubbornness."

"How did you meet?"   "I went to college in Virginia.   During my last
summer break I worked as an aide to a senator.   He took me to an embassy
cocktail party one night because I have a pretty good ear for languages.
Thea was there with her father."   "And it was love at first sight."   "We
got married two weeks later.   Thea had already been modeling for a few years
by then--teen- magazine stuff, clothing catalogs, that sort of thing.   The
following year I took over the family business from my father, and by then
she was pregnant with Charlie.   Thea agreed to stay home with the baby.
That took quite a toll on the marriage.   She loved modeling, and I don't
think she ever stopped blaming me for halting her career in its tracks."
The note of regret in his voice surprised her a little.   Charlie's claim
that his father hated his mother enough to make her life miserable suddenly
didn't wash.   Nora peered out the windshield with all the intensity of a
race car driver.   She was very conscious of the man sitting next to her: the
crisp, clean scent of the aftershave he used, his long fingers resting
against his thigh, the shift of muscles as he moved in his seat.

"You're too quiet," he said suddenly.  "What are you thinking?

That I made a lousy husband?  " She turned her head to meet his
self-deprecating smile.  She realized quickly that the last thing she wanted
to do was tell him where her thoughts had taken her.  " No, I wasn't thinking
that at all," she replied.  " I was just thinking that sometimes people make
the wrong choices in life, and they end by twisting themselves in knots,
trying to make up for them.  " Their eyes met, held no more than a heartbeat,
really, but a shudder of pleasure went through Nora.  She didn't like it.
This man could keep her from realizing the most important dream in her life,
and she'd do well to keep that in mind.

She cleared her throat, determined to keep the conversation and her thoughts
calm, composed and dispassionate.  "Well, at least Thea managed to revive her
career."

"The ingenue jobs are beyond her now, of course.   But she's found her
niche.   Thea was always very resourceful."   "Her picture seems to be
everywhere now that she's a spokesperson for La Paloma Cosmetics."   "Yeah.
A real celebrity."

"Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I think part of the problem with Charlie is
that he honestly believes you hate his mother."

 "I don't.

I just don't want her raising my son anymore.  " " And yet you found no fault
with it for five years after the divorce.  " Jake arched a glance her way.  "
He told you that, did he?  Well, he's partially right.  I should have spent
less time out of the country.  Maybe I would've noticed that Thea was turning
him into something I didn't like, but I never imagined.  well, let's say I
waited longer than I should have to take action.  "

He sighed heavily and fixed his gaze out the window.  Jake was quiet,
reflective, and something in the way his jaw tightened suggested to Nora that
he wasn't seeing the scenery.  Before the silence could stretch any longer,
she said,

"You know, raising a second child isn't going to be any easier than the
first."

"No, but I've learned a few things with Charlie, and I don't intend to make
the same mistakes twice."   "A judge may not give you that chance."   He
smiled at her.

"How about we agree not to talk about the adoption today?  I'm feeling too
encouraged about Charlie to fight with you."  He held out his hand.

"Deal?"  She was proud of the way she managed to keep from hesitating.

She took one hand off the steering wheel and shook his firmly.  "Deal,"

she said, feeling much more in control.  "Now tell me how you ended up
building bridges halfway around the world."  jake didn't like the way she
made him feel.  Hot.  Lightheaded.  Horny.  What the hell was wrong with him?
This wasn't the way he was supposed to be handling this.  Since he'd
actually made the decision to raise Bobby's baby as his own, he'd known it
would be his job to make sure this woman didn't succeed in that same quest.
He should be finding fault with everything Nora Holloway did, everything she
said, everything she was.  Mentally filing away her flaws so that Gregg
Sanstrom could find something to get his teeth into if a court battle became
necessary.  Instead, he was bumping along beside her in a truck, hauling
Bambi back to paradise, planning to top off this bucolic adventure with a
picnic.  A picnic, for God's sake!  Gregg probably wouldn't have minded that
Jake was keeping a close eye on the woman, but he was damn sure he wasn't
supposed to be liking this so much.  He was relieved when they reached the
entrance to the national forest.

He'd been talking nonstop for about the last five minutes, replaying parts of
his past as if he was on one of those daytime-television talk shows.  When
had he gotten so loose-lipped?  When had his past problems with Thea been
open for discussion?  He told himself it was for Charlie's sake.  Whatever
Nora's failings might be--and God, he hoped she had some--she had a knack for
reaching his son in ways he could only dream of right now.  Around her,
Charlie seemed less prickly, more cooperative, and sometimes he even forgot
to be surly with Jake.  He twisted in his seat and rapped on the back window
to draw Charlie's attention.  "Everything all right?"  he shouted.  The boy
gave him a thumbs-up signal and actually smiled.  Jake nodded and turned
around.

Yeah, he thought.  Yeah.  Charlie is the reason I should be here.  As though
he'd spoken aloud, he was aware of Nora turning her head to look at him.
His eyes met hers, and she gave him a reassuring smile.  It was sweet,
lovely, and the taut, tense feel of frustrated arousal hit him.  He swung a
glance out the side window, clamping down hard on his libido, but it only
bloomed with fresh gusto.

God, he prayed silently, get me out of this truck before I make a fool of
myself.  Evidently God decided to take pity on him.  They had bumped onto a
dirt path, and now Nora pulled the truck to a halt in front of a flat, grassy
knoll.  There wasn't another soul in sight.  Tall pines whispered in a slight
breeze, creaking with the weight of years.

Sunlight danced on the ribbon of river that stretched as far as he could see,
so bright Jake could only bear to look at the water for a heartbeat.
Beautiful.  Peaceful.  Perfect.  He joined Nora at the back of the truck.
Charlie was already sliding out of the bed.  Jake picked up the still-sedated
deer and Nora led him to a spot in the open where the grass grew tall and
lush.  He settled the animal gently on the ground.  Nora and Charlie knelt
beside Marjorie.  Nora lifted one of the deer's eyelids.  His hand stroking
down the animal's neck, Charlie looked over at Nora.  "Now what?"

"Now we just leave her alone, let her wake up naturally."   Nora lifted her
chin to motion toward a stand of tall pines and thick undergrowth.
"Hopefully she'll get up and head into those woods.   This area's protected
from hunters.   She'll have about fifty thousand acres to play in, and no
one to hurt her."   "Sounds like deer heaven," Jake said from behind her.
"What if she won't go away?"   Charlie's voice was worried.   "Then I'll have
to scare her off.

We can shout and wave the blanket at her, but I hope it doesn't come to that.
" " Are you going to miss her?  " Charlie asked.  " Very much," Nora said in
a soft voice.  She angled a look down at the deer, lightly running her
fingers along the side of Marjorie's face.  " But she was never mine, really.
" This was tough for her.  Jake could hear the dread in her voice, and her
movements were wooden, as if she held herself tightly.  " Charles," Jake
said, eager to capture the boy's attention, yet attempting to sound casual at
the same time.  " Why don't you say goodbye now, and then we'll break out the
food and our fishing gear?  " " I don't"-- Charlie began the protest with a
frown, then stopped when Jake jerked his head toward Nora behind her back.
Give her some time alone, he telegraphed to his son, and surprisingly,
Charlie was quick to interpret the message.  " Okay, sure," he said.  In
another moment, he had whispered a last goodbye to Marjorie, slipped off his
knees and started loping toward the truck.  " I'd better help him out," Jake
said.  He turned to follow after Charlie.

"Jake?"  Nora's voice stopped him, and he swung back to face her.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."   "No problem."   She stayed with the deer a long time.   Jake and
Charlie managed to set a pretty fine picnic under the trees, quite a distance
away.   Charlie kept glancing over to where Nora still knelt in the tall
grass.   "Do you think she's all right?"   his son asked.   "Should we take
her a glass of lemonade?"   It pleased Jake that the boy showed such concern.
Evidently Charlie hadn't completely forgotten what it was like to care
about someone else's feelings.

Eventually Nora joined them.  She and Charlie were too tense and watchful of
Marjorie to offer much in the way of conversation.  But the food was good,
the lemonade cold and tart.  The warm sun filtering through the canopy of
trees overhead reminded Jake how much he enjoyed being outdoors.  Toward the
end of the meal Marjorie woke up and staggered to her feet.  Nora and Charlie
went still, and even Jake found himself holding his breath.  The deer sniffed
the air, then took a few tentative steps toward them.  "No ... no," Nora
whispered.  "Go on, Marj.  You know where you belong."  Unexpectedly,
Marjorie stopped.  She stood there a very long time, head up, ears twitching,
as if enraptured by the stillness of her surroundings.  A shaft of sunlight
suddenly pierced the clouds and found the animal, brushing its keen head and
lean flank with gold.

Then, inexplicably startled, Marjorie turned and leaped toward the woods on
the far side of the glade.  Her tail went up like a salute, her long legs
gathered speed, although she had no reason to run except for pleasure's sake.
Then she was gone-- into the underbrush without a backward look or
thank-you.  Beside him, Jake heard his son's excited gasp and Nora's slow
release of breath.  "I like this ending better than the one in The Yearling,"
Charlie said.  "Me, too," Nora agreed, but Jake heard the tiny note of sorrow
in her voice.  After that, the afternoon seemed anticlimactic.  Jake
collected the fishing equipment, and he and Charlie headed down to the
riverbank.  Loaded down with art supplies, Nora set up her easel and paints
not too far away.  From his spot on the bank Jake watched her out of the
corner of one eye.  He couldn't see the picture she labored over, but she
applied paint liberally, with broad strokes, and the only thing he could
think was that he had never seen a woman who could manage to look so
energetic and elegant all at the same time.  The fish were biting.  Charlie
reeled in three striped bass, one after the other.  One slithered away before
he had a firm grasp on it, splashing back into the current, but he didn't
seem to mind, and surprised Jake by immediately insisting that he be baited
up again.

The afternoon wore on until there was more shade than sunlight.  Jake was
sorry to see the day end, and he would have bet Charlie felt the same way.
Freckles had popped out across the boy's nose and cheeks, his hair was no
more than a tumbled haystack, but he was grinning, and he'd actually managed
to participate in more than one conversation with Jake.  They walked back
from the riverbank, heading for the truck where Nora was already stowing her
paints behind the seat.  "Can we come back here?"  Charlie asked.  "Sure,"
Jake replied, feeling a kernel of hope take hold within him.  "Any particular
reason why?"

"It's pretty and quiet," the boy said with a shrug of nonchalance.   "And
who knows?   Marjorie might come back for a visit."   As they passed Nora's
easel still standing in the grass, they both stopped.   They were silent as
they surveyed the small canvas she'd been working on, and they tilted their
heads this way and that to get the right perspective.   It took some doing.
Nora's half-finished depiction of a lone deer standing in the high grass was.
well.   a stretch for the imagination.   The trees were somewhat
recognizable, as was the winding current of the river in the background, but
Marjorie.   poor Marj couldn't have looked worse if she'd been a hood
ornament on some hunter's front fender.   "I like Nora, but she's really a
bad artist, isn't she?"   Charlie commented under his breath.   "Pretty
awful."   "What should we say if she asks us what we think?"   "What do you
want to say?"   He gave Jake a speculative glance.   "Mother says it's all
right to lie if you don't want to hurt some- body's feelings."   "In this
case, I think she's right.   Besides, if we tell Nora the truth, we could end
up walking back to the cabin.   She's got the only vehicle out of here."
"She sure took a pretty place and made it ugly," Charlie said with a shake of
his head.   "Yep," Jake agreed.   "But this can be our little secret."

Charlie seemed to like that idea.  His eyes sparkled.  "Yeah, I'm cool with
it."  With that pact made between them, Jake sent Charlie over to pick up the
blanket and picnic supplies while he carried the fishing gear to the truck.
Nora's back was to him, and as he approached, she didn't turn around.  She
seemed completely absorbed in something on the front seat of the truck, and
when he was right behind her he saw that her paint box lay open in front of
her.  From it she had removed a dog-eared, paint-spattered picture of
Marjorie that she had evidently been using as a guide in her latest work.
Lovingly, she ran her finger across the face of it.  Jake
set the fishing equipment on the ground.  She must have sensed his presence,
because she stiffened and began to turn around.

"You all right?"  he asked her gently.  She wasn't.  He could see the dark
hurt in her eyes, and she had to swallow hard a couple of times.

"Nora...?"  Tears spilled from her lashes as she blinked.  She raised shaking
fingers to wipe them away, pink with embarrassment.  "I feel so stupid," she
said in a rush to explain.  "She's just a deer.  I don't usually" -- The sob
she'd evidently been holding in check broke free.

She gave him a wobbly smile, and there was nothing left for him to do but
gather her in, pulling her into the comfort of his embrace.  "Shh,"

he said softly, running his hand along the curve of her spine.  "It's all
right.  I'll bet she's already found some great stud of a buck to look after
her."

"I hope not," she replied with a shaky laugh.   Her hands were splayed
against his shirt, a delicate warmth.   "I want her to be independent."   His
chin rested against the top of her head.   Her hair was warm from the sun,
and he caught the fragrance of its shining mass, a scent he suspected no
perfumerie could duplicate.   Without really giving it much thought, he
pressed his lips against her temple.

The forbidden thrill of what he'd just done took hold of him, and he went
very still.  He had no right to touch her like this.  He should turn her
loose.  He couldn't.  Nora drew a deep, ragged breath, tilting her head back
to look up at him.  "It's those big brown eyes.  They get to you."  He didn't
take his gaze from her.

Instead, he touched the back of his hand to the wetness of tears against her
cheek.  "Yes.  I know."  Her dazed senses seemed to recognize his nearness at
last.  She looked at him in almost quiet fascination.  Her mouth parted on a
little gasp of sound, but she made no move to pull away, no effort to stop
what now seemed inevitable to Jake.  His mind no longer functioned; his body
seemed driven by instinct alone.  It came as pure feeling--that need to touch
her, to hold her, to see if her flesh was as soft and silken as he imagined
it to be.  He had to find out.  He lowered his head, letting his mouth graze
her cheek.  The taste of her tears was on his lips, warm and salty, and her
skin felt like velvet.  Beneath his hands he felt her body trembling, and yet
she seemed utterly still, as though she was afraid to move, afraid to
breathe.  His mouth hovered over hers, eager to touch and taste.  He would
have kissed her then.  He needed to kiss her.  If only once.  And then his
peripheral vision caught sight of Charlie, coming toward them awkwardly with
his arms piled high with supplies, and his visionARM EVANS IW thank
God--obscured by the blanket they'd used for their picnic.  With a muffled
curse Jake set Nora away from him.  The last thing he needed was to confuse
his son any further.  Nora followed his lead, putting distance between them,
brushing a distracted hand through her hair and across her face.  She
concentrated on snapping the lid of her paint box shut, and he noticed that
she wouldn't meet his eyes.

The ride back was uncomfortable.  Charlie rode in the truck bed again, but
although they were alone once more in the cab, neither Jake or Nora mentioned
what had almost happened back there in the glade.  By the time they reached
the Hideaway's front driveway, the sky looked dark and threatening, and Jake
could almost believe he had imagined the whole episode.

CHAPTER EIGHT it rained by early evening, a steady downpour that sent dark,
swollen clouds boiling across an ominous sky.  Jake stood behind the screen
door of Cabin Two and watched lightning outline the treetops on the horizon.
Turning his head, he smiled at Charlie's valiant attempts to keep his eyes
open.  After the trip to the national forest and a grilled-cheese sandwich
for dinner, the boy had slouched in front of the television, and was now
half-asleep.  Jake, however, was restless, and whether because of the rain or
the events of the day, he felt unable to follow his son's example.  It was
too soon for bed.  And even if he did crawl between the sheets, Jake
reasoned, he'd only toss and turn, wondering how he could have come so close
to kissing Nora Holloway today, wondering why he would want to kiss a woman
whom he might very well have to face down in a court of law.  It was one
thing to offer solace to a person in need, but what he'd done today had been
unexpected, confusing and, reluctant as he was to admit it, downright
exciting.  He wondered if Nora had felt the same way.  He thought he had
glimpsed a similarity between her face and his feelings.  But he couldn't be
sure.  His body had been reacting with such lusty sexual need that he might
have completely misinterpreted her response.  They should talk.  He didn't
want her to get the wrong idea.  He certainly couldn't afford to get involved
with her.  Not with the decision about Bobby's baby still unresolved.  The
rain had stopped.  He slipped into his jacket, tucking the copy of The
Yearling into one of the pockets.

Might as well take the book back to the lodge tonight.  Besides, it offered
him an excuse to seek out Nora.  He slipped out of the cabin quietly, leaving
his son emitting soft snores from the couch.  When he entered the main lodge,
he saw that the registration desk was closed for the night.  The service bell
was on the counter, and only one small light in the corner of the room burned
a mellow glow, giving the massive stone-and-timber lobby a dark, mysterious
appeal.  Perhaps he should wait until morning.  It wouldn't help to discuss
the incident with Nora if she was too tired and ready to turn in for the
night.

Before he could make that decision, he heard loud, sharp voices, both male
and female, coming from the Holloways' private quarters.  It could have been
a television; the prime-time shows would have begun their assault by now.
He strode over to the bookcase near the fireplace.  He had just returned The
Yearling to the shelf and was running a hand over the rest of the selection
the resort offered, when he heard the voices draw nearer.  Before he knew it,
Nora appeared in the registration doorway.  She didn't see him.  Her
attention was fully fixed on someone on the other side of the door she'd just
come through, and there was no opportunity for Jake to announce his presence.
"I'm going for a walk," she announced curtly.  "Damn it, Nora, we have to
talk about this."  The voice belonged to Trip Holloway.  He sounded
frustrated and angry.  "We have talked about it.  And the answer is still
no."

"You can't ignore our finances forever.   We have responsibilities" -- She
had been striding toward the front entrance, but now she swung around to face
her brother, who had appeared in the doorway.   "Don't you dare talk to me
about responsibilities.   Trip Holloway.   I have a huge emotional investment
in this place.   I've spent every waking moment for years taking care of it,
meeting my responsibilities, while you've been gallivanting around the globe."

"Then don't do it anymore.  Let's sell and be done with it."  "No."

Trip slapped his hand down on the registration desk.  "Why can't you be
reasonable about this?"

"You don't want me to be reasonable.  You just want your own way.  You
agreed that monthly payments for your half would be fine.  Now you expect me
to come up with a payoff amount?  You know I can't."

"You deserve better than this, Nora."   "Don't pretend this has anything to
do with what I want or need.   Admit it.   The money's all you care about.
You don't care what we'd be losing if we sell this place."   Her brother
threw his arms wide.   "All right, so I've never felt the same way about the
Hideaway that you do.   But what would you be losing, Nora?   You've been
stuck in the past ever since the accident" -- Nora pivoted to continue her
exit out the front door.   "You don't know what you're talking about," Jake
heard her snap.   Trip came around the registration desk, following in her
footsteps.   She banged through the door, leaving her brother to catch the
door after her.   "Nora!"   he shouted into the darkness.   "Damn it, Nora.
Come back here!"   He swore viciously and stalked back to the registration
desk.   Even across the distance of the room and in the poor light, Jake
could see veins standing out on the young man's neck.   Jake decided it was
well past time to make his presence known.   He cleared his throat, and
Trip's head swung in his direction immediately.   "I'm sorry," Jake said.
"I was just returning a book.   I didn't intend to overhear that
conversation."   The man's frown deepened.   "Ah, hell, now we're arguing in
front of the guests.

Although, I suppose in a way, you're not really a guest, are you?

Nora's told me why you're here.  It looks like neither one of us is going to
get what we want from Nora.  " There was no clue in his voice or features as
to how Nora's brother felt about the adoption.  Was he in favor of it?  Jake
wondered.  This seemed like the perfect opportunity to find out.  " Your
sister strikes me as someone who can be very determined," Jake stated in an
offhanded way.  " Determined?

Impossible is more like it.  " The younger man's mouth twisted into a slash
of displeasure.  " You'll find out for yourself if you have to take her to
court over this baby thing.  And you will, unless Nora can be made to see
reason.  " " You don't support her decision to adopt Isabel's child?  " "
Hell, no!  " Trip said.  He glanced back over his shoulder, as though he
expected someone--Isabel, perhaps--to come out of the private quarters behind
him.  Then he came around the desk and strode across the room to face Jake.
In a low, mean voice, he said, " Adopting this baby is just one more way Nora
likes to stick her head in the sand.  " Jake didn't understand that comment,
but he could see that Trip was still furious.  " You know," Jake suggested, "
you may be underestimating her.  Nora might be stubborn, but I suspect she's
a very sensible person, too.  Sentimental, perhaps, but completely capable
of deciding what's best for herself.  " Trip glared at Jake.  " You think so?
" Unexpectedly, he moved to the bookcase, pulling out several books to look
behind them, as though searching for something.  Finally he found what he was
looking for--a thin book with no markings on the front cover.  He tossed it
to Jake, who caught it with one hand.  " Take a look at that," Trip said.  "
Then tell me my sister doesn't need to get away from here and start a new
life.  Tell me she'd make a good parent for Izzie's child.  " " I'm afraid I
don't understand.  " " She lost her husband and a kid a few years back in an
accident.  She hasn't been the same since.  " This was the first Jake had
heard about an accident; even Isabel hadn't mentioned it.  He felt a familiar
stab of pain somewhere in the region of his gut as he imagined the hurt that
Nora had suffered.  He knew all about loss, too.  But another part of Trip's
comments made Jake uneasy and curious.  Was there something about Nora's
mental state he should be concerned about for the baby's sake?  What had her
brother meant?  Only one way to find out, and the young man was angry enough
not to hold back anything.  " What makes you think your sister wouldn't be a
good parent?  " Trip didn't hesitate.

"She's too serious.  Too 156 DREAM BABY quiet.  She used to be the life of
the party--my fun loving sis.  But I hardly recognize her anymore."  Jake
barely held back an incredulous snort of derision.  It sounded to him as
though Nora Holloway had done something her brother had not--grown up.  He
struggled to keep from giving Trip Hollo- way a lecture and settled on, "I've
heard your sister talk about the Hideaway.  She places a great deal of value
on keeping your family's legacy here alive.  She seems very much in tune with
its history, the traditions that began several generations ago.  Perhaps
that's what makes her seem so serious to you."  Trip moved restlessly to
glance out the wide picture window.  He looked back at Jake over his
shoulder.  "It's just wood and nails and shingles.  Nora's a fool to let it
run her life."  Jake had a pretty good idea who the fool here was, and it
wasn't Nora Holloway.  But he could see Trip wouldn't listen, and even though
he was no longer visibly angry, it was still there, just beneath the surface,
waiting for a reason to strike out at someone.  Jake wouldn't give him that
reason.  Instead, while the young man continued to scowl out the window, Jake
opened the book in his hands.  It was obviously some sort of journal,
covering a period of time five years ago.  The handwriting was slashing and
jerky, and there were numerous splotches of ink, as though the writer had
suddenly stopped and started dozens of times.

His eyes picked out a line here and there as he flipped through the book.

I don't know how I can go on.  think about my baby all the time, wondering.
I wish it had been me instead-- He closed the book with a snap.  He didn't
need to read any further.  The volume was full of Nora's private pain, and he
had no desire to intrude on it.  The fact that Trip Holloway was willing to
allow a stranger to see it--even in a fit of anger against her--diminished
Jake's already lowering opinion of the man considerably.  Trip turned from
the window, nodding toward the book in Jake's hand.  "Nora kept that journal
after the accident," he said, offering an unnecessary explanation.  "She
asked me to burn it a few years ago when we were cleaning out her old room,
but I didn't.  I thought one day she'd put her life back together, and then
she'd want to reread it and know how far she'd come."  Jake shook his head
and held out the book.  "I don't think I need to see this."

"No.   You keep it for a while."   Jake frowned.   "Why?"   "Nora doesn't
need a baby complicating her life right now.   There are things in that
journal that would make any judge wonder if she could handle the
responsibility of raising a child."   "You'd allow me to use this against
your sister?"

"I want what's best for her."  "Do you?"  Jake asked with a narrowed glance.

"Or do you just want to take out your anger on Nora?"  Trip had the grace to
look uncomfortable.  "Yes, I want the money we could get from selling this
place.  I think I have the right to pursue my own goals in life.  But I'm
thinking of Nora, too.  This place is too much for one person to handle.  If
she stays, she'll only work herself into an early grave like my mother did.
And if she adds the burden of raising a child, she'll work herself into that
grave that much sooner."

"Don't you think those kinds of decisions should be hers?"  Raking a hand
through his dark, disheveled hair, Trip walked to the registration desk,
disregarding Jake's outstretched hand holding the book.  "Use it, or don't,"
he said.  "I've been over our finances.  Sooner or later, she'll have to come
around to my way of thinking.  The bank will see to that."  in the end, Jake
didn't take the journal back to the cabin with him.  He knew he could never
use the book against Nora, no matter how nasty a court battle he might find
himself embroiled in.  For what Thea had done, he'd been willing to nail her
buffed and polished little hide to the courthouse wall, but Nora Hollo- way
was different.  She was a decent human being, and she didn't deserve to have
her most anguished inner thoughts paraded in front of a courtroom full of
strangers.

Neither did she deserve to have such a selfish, money-hungry brother who
could hold that journal as his ace-in-the-hole, to be played like a trump
card in the event Nora didn't cooperate with his plans.  Which was why Jake
didn't return the volume to its hiding place behind the books on the shelf.
Instead, he crammed it under a stack of fishing magazines he found in one
corner of the lobby.  He told himself that when the time was right, he would
personally hand it over to her.  If she still wanted the book burned, he'd
help her himself.  But he'd never place the damn thing in Trip Holloway's
hands again.  There had to be other ways to win custody of Bobby's child.  So
the next day, while Charlie was inside the grocery store choosing
items--surprisingly without an argument--Jake used the pay phone outside to
call Gregg Sanstrom to discuss what those ways might be.  "So how's
everything in Hicksville?"  the attorney asked.

"Not as bad as you'd think.  It has its appeal."

"And Charlie?"   Jake couldn't help smiling into the receiver.   "Believe it
or not, I think we're making headway.   He actually made a pot of coffee for
me this morning."   "Uh-oh.   Did you drink it?"   "No cyanide," Jake said
with a laugh.   "I checked for the smell of almonds."   "Well!   That is
progress.   And the adoption issue?"

Jake ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the frustration that had been
building within him suddenly take hold.  "It seemed so simple when I first
called you with the idea," he admitted.  "But I've spoken to Nora Holloway,
and she seems determined to fight for the baby."

"Then a fight is what she's going to get," the lawyer replied.  "I don't
know, Gregg.  I'm not sure I want it to come to that."

 "Why?

Because you don't think we can win?  " " No, it's not that"-- " Then, what?
You can't have it both ways.  Either you make a stand for the kid, or you let
this go.  " There was a long silence while they both gave his words
consideration.  Then, Gregg said in a softer tone, " You're under no moral
obligation to do this, you know.  " " I want to.  "

"It won't bring Bobby back."  Jake frowned.  "I know that."

"And what happened wasn't your fault."   Jake shifted uneasily.   "Put away
your couch, Sigmund.   This isn't about guilt.   I have good reasons for
wanting Bobby's child."   "Then we'll have to come up with a way to make Nora
Holloway change her mind.   I've spoken to her attorney.   He's young, not a
lot of courtroom experience.   I'll apply some pressure, but I doubt it will
do much good.   He'll take the case to trial if need be."   Gregg sighed
heavily.   "I do hate to go up against his kind."

"Inept?"

"No!   An idealist.   They never want to give up, even after you bloody
their noses thoroughly."   "Maybe it won't come to that,"

Jake said almost to himself.  "If I keep trying to convince Nora that it's in
the baby's best interest for me to have custody" -- The attorney made a rude
sound.  "Listen.  Rely on smooth talk if you think it will help.  But just in
case you're not as good as you think you are, we need ammunition, my friend.
Surely she has a few skeletons in the closet we can rattle?"

"I don't know..."   "Hell, Jake!   What are you waiting for?   Ask around.
In a town that small, she's bound to have pissed off someone.   Friends,
business associates, family.   Can you find a cousin who'd testify against
her, say she abused Grandma or sold the family jewels and pocketed the
money?"   Jake swore softly, hating the suggestion that they resort to dirty
tricks.   This wasn't the way he wanted to see things play out.   But what if
Gregg was right?   What if Nora wouldn't give in even when she saw that the
deck was stacked against her?   Thinking aloud, he said,

"Her brother's the only family she has left that I know of.  He'd probably do
it, the bastard.  He tried to give me a private journal she kept a few years
ago."

"A journal?"   Gregg said, sounding excited for the first time.   "That's
perfect!   Take it.   Send it to me, and I'll see if we can make anything out
of it."   "No."

"What do you mean, no?"  The man went from elated to incredulous in a matter
of seconds.  "I mean, that's not an option," Jake said, staring down at his
feet while he let the words sink in to Gregg.  "It's her personal diary,
Gregg," he tried to explain further.  "Full of a lot of pain that she must
have been going through at the time."

"You read it?"   Jake's head jerked up as he gripped the receiver tighter.
"Hell, no, I didn't read it!   What kind of low-life son of a bitch do you
take me for?"   "The kind who's going to lose this case if he doesn't give me
something to impress a judge."   "I'll get you something," Jake promised.

"Just not that.  All right?"

"All right.   But let me ask you one question."   "What?"   "Are you sure
you know which side of this thing you're supposed to be on?"   during the
next few days, Jake did his best to come through for Gregg Sanstrom.   He and
Charlie began working on their boat for the race, and with every trip he made
to town for supplies, or groceries or fishing gear, he took extra time to
make idle conversation with the locals.   He'd learned quickly that Blue
Devil Springs was filled with the kind of salt-of-the-earth citizens who kept
close watch on their neighbors and knew each other's business.

Some of them, Jake figured, would surely have a story to tell about Nora
Holloway.  At the bank, as he cashed a check, he talked to the president.
When he purchased nails at the hardware store, he listened as the manager
went into a long-winded story about the time Hurricane Betty tore the roof
off his place.  At the Cut 'n Curl he let an aged beautician give him a
trim--taking an inch of hair more than he liked--just so he could ask her
about the history of the Hideaway and the family that built it.  They opened
up all right, but there wasn't a single bit of information Jake could use
against Nora Holloway in court.  If the good townspeople of Blue Devil
Springs were to be believed, she was a shoe- in as the next candidate for
sainthood.  She paid her taxes on time.  She made the best blackberry cobbler
in the county.  She gave blood three times a year and chaired the semiannual
Save Our Rivers cleanup days.  No one had a cross word to say about the
woman.  No axes to grind.  No unneighborly disputes over property lines or
barking dogs.  Nora Holloway probably didn't even get parking tickets.  After
the fourth day of coming up empty-handed, Jake was disgruntled, demoralized,
but not defeated as he stopped for a glass of iced tea at the Whispering
River Cafe.  The place was nearly empty, and he slipped into a table in a far
corner.  Ben, the owner, came over to take his order immediately.  "Iced
tea," Jake said, then held up a forestalling hand.  "No.  Make it a beer.
Whatever you've got that's cold and strong."

 "That kind of day, huh?"   Ben asked with a grin.

"I've had better."

The man strode away.  Jake rested his chin on his hand and turned his head
to stare at the wall.  He tried to make his mind go blank, but one of Saint
Nora's odd little paintings was all he could see.  Herons on a riverbank.  At
least he thought that was what he was looking at.  That lack of talent with a
paintbrush seemed to be Nora Holloway's only failing.  He shook his head.  It
wasn't enough.  Judge, she can't adopt this baby because she's a lousy
artist.  Yeah, that would work.  The restaurant emptied, and Ben came back
carrying a few beer bottles laced between the fingers of one hand.  He angled
them out toward Jake.

"I've got domestic or imported.  Pick your poison."  Jake chose a dark one
and took a huge sip.  Letting out a sigh, he smiled up at Ben.

"Perfect," he pronounced.  "Care to join me?"  Seeing that there were no
customers, Ben nodded and took the second chair, tilting it outward so that
he could keep an eye on the room.  Jake watched the man's Adam's apple work
as he polished off half a beer in just a few swallows.  Ben emitted a
satisfied sound and looked at Jake.  "So how are you finding life in Blue
Devil Springs?  Not exactly the fast lane, is it?"

"It's pretty quiet," he admitted.   "Wait a week.   River rats own this town
in the summer."   "I don't see how one good season can keep a business afloat
for an entire year."   Ben shrugged.   "Most of us do all right.   We're the
closest town to the national forest, and tourists come here for supplies and
a change of scenery."   Lifting his eyebrows, he made a face.   "They think
we're quaint."   Jake took another swig of beer, letting the cold bite of the
brew wash away some of his frustration.   It occurred to him that in this
relaxed, casual atmosphere he might be able to learn a few things about Nora
and her life here.   Ben was easy to talk to, and he had dated her for a
while.   Jake floated an innocent, lead-in comment.   "Quaint certainly
describes the Hideaway."

' "Yep.  The small, independent family resort.  Last of a dying breed."

"Do you think it will come to that?  Extinction?"

"Not if Nora has anything to say about it.   She's determined to make a go
of it."   Ben glanced over at him.   "Heard you were staying there, so you
probably know what I mean.   She's not a quitter."   "No, I suspect she's not.

But I imagine it's hard to keep fighting, especially when her own brother
seems to want her to sell the place.  " " Trip?  He's wanted that for years.
Doesn't mean he'll ever talk her into it" " He seems to think he knows what's
best for her.  " " Trip knows what's best for Trip," Ben said with an arched
smile.  " He's always been a selfish SOB.  " That pretty much matched Jake's
assessment of the man, but it made him feel better to know he wasn't alone in
that opinion.  " Still, I'm surprised she's willing to stick it out, running
the place almost by herself.

Considering all the upkeep, a husband would probably come in handy.  " " I
imagine she could use the help.  " With a frown, Jake finished the last of
his beer.  He wasn't certain why he'd let his quest for information about
Nora Holloway take this particular tack.  Her romantic life was nothing that
could help him in court, but he found himself eager to know all the same.  In
fact, he even pushed a little by saying,

"I

understand she had one at one time.  A husband, I mean.  " " Yeah.  About
five years ago.  " " Someone local?  " " No.  She met a fellow in the
national forest tracking black bears for the Park Service.  " He tossed a
look at Jake.  " You probably know by now how fond she is of the wildlife
around here.  I guess they had a lot in common.  Next thing we hear, they'd
gotten married.  " He frowned, then nodded minutely.

"Peter, that was his name.  Nice guy.  You want another beer?"  Jake took a
sip from the bottle Ben pushed across the table.  "So what happened?"
"They'd been married about six months.  Had a kid on the way.  A boy, I
think.  Anyway, Peter brought Nora into town one day for a doctor's
appointment.  I ran into her outside the office trying to keep out of the
rain while he got the car.  She was so excited about the baby, and laughing
because her stomach was too big to get her raincoat buttoned."  Ben grimaced
and shook his head.  "I remember thinking I'd never seen her that happy
before.  And I haven't since then, either."  Jake went cold at his words.
"Trip Holloway mentioned an accident."

"On the way home, Peter took one of the curves too fast in the rain.   He
ran off the road and hit a tree.   Killed him instantly.   The baby, too,
although they didn't know that until they got Nora to the hospital."   "Was
she injured?"   "Hardly a mark on her."

Ben slid a knowing glance Jake's way.  "None that you could see, at least."
Jake listened in thoughtful silence, remembering the quick glance he'd gotten
of those desperate, slashing entries in Nora's journal.  No woman ought to
suffer that kind of loss, and yet here he was, trying to find ways to keep
her from making some kind of peace with the past.  He felt torn.  Obviously
Nora viewed adoption as the chance to rebuild her life, and he couldn't
honestly say she was wrong to think that.  Even if she never remarried, she'd
still probably make a good mother.  A baby would be lucky to have her for a
mom.  Just not this baby.  Not Bobby's child, damn it.  He didn't like
himself very much in that moment.  The beer tasted bitter on his tongue, and
he frowned down at the bottle in his hand.  Ben noticed and inclined his head
toward the beer.  "You don't like that brand?"

"Stronger than I'm used to."   Jake offered the ^ .   "il excuse absently.
Then,

"It must be very difficult to recover from a loss like that."

 "Even for someone as normally upbeat as Nora,"

Ben agreed.  Remembering Trip's claim about her stability, Jake couldn't
resist asking,

"Did she ever seem ... I don't know... unable to cope?"

"No," the other man said with a frown, as though wondering where such a
question had come from.   "Not Nora.   She came around eventually.   Took
back her maiden name and started getting out more."

"But she hasn't remarried."  Ben smiled.  "Nora's had plenty of offers, but
so far as I know she's rejected all of them."

"You think she's still grieving over her husband?"   His companion shrugged.
"Could be, I suppose.   She's never mentioned his name since the day of the
accident."   Jake sat still, letting his thoughts sort through his feelings
and this unexpected peek into Nora's past.   He supposed Gregg Sanstrom could
turn it into something ugly enough to sway a judge, but Jake didn't think he
could live with himself if he allowed that approach to be taken.   Expelling
a heavy, frustrated sigh, he turned his head.   He was tired of trying to
figure it all out.   Maybe a change of subject was in order.   Nora's poorly
executed riverbank scene snared his attention.   "These paintings are really
bad," he said to Ben.

Ben cocked his head.  "I know.  But that doesn't matter."

"Have you considered the possibility that these paintings might actually
drive business away?"   A slow grin spread across the man's face.   "I'll
take my chances.   I owe Nora a debt I can't ever repay."   "How so?"   "Last
year during the busy season I fell over a box in the stockroom."   He parted
his hair with his fingers to show Jake a thin, white line against his scalp.
"Twenty-six stitches, and I was unconscious for almost a week.   By the time
I got out of the hospital I figured this place was going to be in the red,
big time.   Instead, I discovered that Nora had kept it open--cooking,
waiting tables--whatever it took, she did.   I didn't lose a single hour's
worth of business.   And this was while the Hideaway was overflowing, too.
She saved my butt."   With a tight smile, Ben looked back at Nora's painting.
"So if it pleases her to think that people see her work and appreciate it,
she can hang them upside down for all I care."   Jake didn't doubt the
sincerity of Ben's feelings.   Nora was turning out to be a more formidable
opponent than he'd ever have imagined.   And yet, in that particular moment,
he wasn't really thinking of her as the person he might have to face in court
some day.   He was thinking of her as a woman.   Ben gave him a sudden
sidelong glance.   "Why all the questions?   You interested in her?"

Jake pulled himself erect, sliding the empty beer bottles toward the center
of the table.  He shook his head decisively.

"Just curious."

"Uh-huh," Ben said, and his smile broadened into a grin.   He turned to lean
across the table.   "Let me tell you something.

There isn't a man in Blue Devil Springs who hasn't been 'just curious' about
Nora Holloway at one time or another.  You want to see what the competition
looks like, drop by the Moose Hall next Thursday night.  The town's having a
fund-raiser for the Volunteer Fire Department.  " He winked.  " You can
compare notes, and maybe get to dance with Nora, too.  " Jake looked Ben in
the eyes for a moment, prepared to deny his interest, then gave the whole
thing up and asked,

"How do you know she'll be there?"

"Oh, she'll be there," he assured him.   A young couple had walked into the
cafe and Ben took a last swallow of beer, then rose from the table.   "She's
head of the fund-raising committee."

It figured.  that night there was an unexpected development in Jake's
relationship with Charlie.  Nothing earth-shattering, but enough for Jake to
feel he was making headway with the kid.  With the boat race coming up,
they'd spent the afternoon on the river, practicing strokes in one of the
Hideaway canoes.  They capsized twice.  By the time the sun set, they were
both tired and hungry, and Jake's effort to fix dinner--overcooked spaghetti
and meatballs--was met with a look of open rebellion by Charlie.  Finally,
they settled in opposite corners of the cabin, Jake trying to drum up
enthusiasm for the book on shipbuilding he'd found in the Hideaway library,
and Charlie retreating once again into battle with his video space villains.
They were both ready to call it a night when they heard the sound of a dog
howling--like a Baskerville hound coming over the moors.  It was enough to
make the hair on the back of Jake's head stand on end, and Charlie looked up
from Space Scow.  "Sounds like Larry," the boy said worriedly and slipped off
the couch to go to the screen door.  Jake joined him, his eyes scanning the
property.  The Hideaway looked tucked in for the night.  The main lodge was
dark.  The only light came from the rehab shed at the edge of the woods.
That didn't seem odd.  Charlie had told Jake that Nora often worked with her
animals all hours of the day and night.  More agitated barking floated across
the darkness, definitely coming from the direction of the rehab shed.

"Nora's up late," Jake commented.  "She's only got the eagle left," Charlie
said.  "We turned loose the raccoon and the birds yesterday.  She could be
painting, I guess.  She keeps her supplies in the shed."

"I'm going for a walk," Jake said, edging past his son and out the door.
"I'm coming, too."   The boy was behind him in seconds.

The moonlit path to the rehab shed was a bright ribbon ahead of them.

As they neared the small building, they could hear Larry whining, and Nora's
voice raised in displeasure.  The door was open, and when Jake and Charlie
looked inside, the sight before them stopped them in their tracks.  The place
was a mess, covered with paint that had been squeezed out of a dozen tubes.
Red.  Green.  Blue.  Splotches.

Splatters.  Paw prints stamped in rainbow colors and canvases littered across
the floor.  In one corner, the injured eagle sat in its cage and glared
malevolently at them.  In the center of the room was Nora, crouched in front
of her mongrel with a ragged, paint-splattered towel in one hand, the other
curled tightly around Larry's collar.  The dog's eyes were downcast.  His
tail dragged the floor, and his coat was flecked with paint.  "ought to put
you up for adoption at the next pet fair," Nora was scolding.  "As if there
aren't enough annoyances around here lately without having you up to your old
tricks."  She rubbed powder-blue paint off his muzzle, then tilted his head
up so that their eyes met.  Larry offered a conciliatory swipe of his tail.

Moss-green paint smeared across the pine flooring.  "Don't give me the
pitiful look," she told him.  "You are a bad dog.  A very bad dog.  And you
are one lousy artist, you know that?"  Larry tried to look contrite and
invisible.  Jake cleared his throat to let Nora know she had company.  She
looked surprised to see the two of them standing there.

"Artistic differences?"  Jake suggested.  Nora held out a forestalling hand.
"Don't come any closer if you don't want paint all over you.  I don't know
why, but Larry has a thing about my art supplies.  He loves to chew up my
brushes and claw the canvases.  This time he got to my paint box.  Thank
goodness none of this is toxic to animals."  She shook her head at the dog as
he tried to pull away.  "Hold still, you miserable mutt, until I get this
paint off you."

"We'll help you, won't we.   Dad?"   Charlie offered, and immediately he
began picking up paint brushes that were scattered everywhere.   "Sure," Jake
agreed.   He bent to retrieve a nearby canvas that had globs of wet, yellow
paint across one side of the picture.   "Thanks," Nora said, and seeing the
ruined canvas in Jake's hands, she added,

"Oh, no!  I just finished that one last week.

I was going to take it down to Ben's tomorrow.  Now look at it.  It's ruined.
" Both Jake and Charlie gave the picture a closer look.

Beneath the paw prints and rivulets of fresh paint, he recognized Nora's
traditional beach landscape.  Yep, there were her trademark flying woito/
seagulls.  Frankly, he thought the addition of Larry's handiwork improved the
damed thing.  One exchanged glance with Charlie told him that his son thought
so, too.  "It's not so bad," Charlie said.  "Actually, the paw prints give it
an interesting abstract look," Jake added, tilting his head to one side as he
held the canvas at arm's length.  "Maybe you ought to consider taking your
work in a new direction."

"You've got it upside-down," Nora said.   "And you two can stop trying to
pretend you like my work.   I saw your faces that day in the glade."   She
ran the towel over the dog's front paw.   "I don't care what you think.

I like it, and I'm not using Larry for a paintbrush.  "

" No, really.   "

Charlie began, and Jake placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.  "Forget it,
son.  We're busted."  Together, they made quick work of the cleanup.  When
the last canvas had been restacked in a corner, salvageable paint tubes
recapped and Larry looking more his old self again, Jake surveyed the room.
"Did we miss anything?"

 "Looks good,"

Nora said.  She shook her finger at Larry, who had skulked into a corner
behind Charlie's legs.  "Tomorrow I'm getting a lock for the door, and you'd
better keep a low profile for the next few days, mister, because I'm still
mad at you."

"I'll keep him out of your hair," Charlie offered with sudden enthusiasm.
"He could stay with me in my room."   Then he looked worriedly at his father
and quickly added, "No, that's probably not a good idea."   "Why not?"   Jake
asked.   "If Nora doesn't mind, I don't."   He knew how Thea had always felt
about indoor pets, and Charlie had never mentioned wanting or having one.
But he seemed to like animals, and Larry in particular, so what harm could it
do?   He turned toward Nora, who had a tiny smudge of red paint on her
cheekbone.   He lifted the towel out of her hand and brought the tip of it to
her face.   "Hold still, you've got paint here.   So you don't mind if Larry
keeps Charlie company for a while, do you?"   Nora's mouth parted slightly,
and her body seemed tense.   He realized that his unexpected touch had
surprised her.   "No," she said softly.   "No, that's fine."   "Good," Jake
said.   He dropped the towel on the workbench and headed toward the door.
"It's late.   Come on, Charlie.   Grab Picasso there and let's go to bed."
At the door, he turned back toward Nora, who stood watching them silently.
"Call me if you need help with the lock."   She nodded.   On the way back to
the cabin, Larry trotted just ahead of Charlie, his tail wagging furiously
now that he sensed he was out of trouble.   Jake watched the dog absently,
his mind still on the fact that Nora had seemed pleasantly unsettled by his
touch.   Charlie looked back over his shoulder at his father.   "He won't be
any trouble.   Dad.   I promise."   "I know."   "I'll keep a close eye on
him."   "Good."   "Dad?"   "Yeah?"   "Thanks.   For letting him stay, I mean."

Gratitude from Charlie?  That was even more unexpected than Nora's reaction.
"No problem, son."  Charlie sprinted down the path, chasing Lany.  Jake
smiled as he watched his son's shadowy figure bobbing in the moonlight.  He
inhaled sharply, pulling in night scents that were intoxicating.  It was a
beautiful night, wasn't it?

CHAPTER NINE nora smiled as she stepped up to the microphone.

"Welcome, everyone!"  she began enthusiastically, and then launched into the
short, prepared speech she used every year to begin the festivities at the
annual fund-raiser for the Blue Springs Fire Department.  The crowd, bless
them, gave her their full attention, as though they'd never heard it before.
She was halfway through the speech, just about ready to introduce Chief
Quinn, when she spotted Jake Burdette at the hall's entrance door, and the
rest of her words stuck in her throat.  She had to swallow to get them out,
so that when she did she rushed through the introduction.  Chief Quinn gave
her an odd look, and there was a titter from the crowd.  What was he doing
here?  She watched him take a ticket for a door prize from the attendant,
then hand another to his son.  The fact that Jake was here, and had managed
to convince Charlie to come as well, stunned her into complete silence.  Not
good.  Chief Quinn--always a man of few words--finished his welcome and now
waited for her to jump in with closing comments.  It took her a moment to
find her place.  She told herself to be calm.  The fund-raiser was open to
anyone.  But the adrenaline kept pumping through her system anyway.  This man
is dangerous, the little voice in her head sent the warning.  Stay away from
him.  Behind her, the band, perhaps sensing something wrong, went into their
first number.  She and Chief Quinn scurried off the stage and down the steps
to the dance floor.  She headed for the refreshment table where Isabel was
overseeing the sale of baked goods.  For days she'd tried to forget about
that afternoon in the forest when she had nearly made a complete fool of
herself.  Bad enough that Jake had caught her in a weak moment--tearful and
idiotically sentimental.

Exactly the kind of vulnerability her enemy might be looking for.  But she
had almost kissed him, wanted him to kiss her.  And that night, when he'd
made a casual attempt to wipe the paint off her cheek, her stomach had nipped
at his nearness.  Her windpipe had narrowed until she could hardly breathe,
and his touch had blinded her to everything but the look in his eyes.  In a
panic of pride and humiliation, she had decided to keep her distance.  For
the past few days, things had seemed to return to normal.  She'd made uneasy
peace with Trip.  She managed to spend some time with Charlie and she'd never
allowed herself to be alone with Jake, although she made every effort to
play the amiable innkeeper when their paths crossed.  She reached the
refreshment table.  Isabel stood behind it, looking pale and ill at ease.  In
spite of the doctor's recommendation to rest often, the girl had insisted on
coming tonight to help out, but now Nora wished she'd convinced Izzie not to
attend.  She wished Trip had come.  He could have driven Isabel home.  But he
was sick himself, nursing a summer cold in his old bedroom with all the drama
of a third-rate actor in a deathbed scene.  "Are you all right, Izzie?"  Nora
asked.  "Oh, Nora, I don't think I can stay here."  Nora had lost sight of
Jake for the moment, but she caught Isabel's frown as the girl gazed off
toward the front door.  Evidently Isabel had seen his entrance, too.  Damn
him!

No matter how much she wanted to avoid him, she didn't want Isabel to be
uncomfortable.  Clenching her jaw, Nora rubbed Isabel's arm consolingly.
"That horrible man.  Hold tight, honey.  I'll ask him to leave."  Isabel's
head turned to pin her with a confused look.  "Who?"

"Jake Burdette."

"Why?"   "Because he's upsetting you."   "No, he's not."   Isabel placed a
hand over her mouth.   "It's the smell of cheesecake.   It's making me sick.
Damn it, I hate being nauseated all the time."

For a blank second Nora stood and looked at her friend in annoyance.

It would have helped enormously to think that Isabel shared Nora's resentment
of Jake's presence.  "Do you want to go home?"  she asked at last.  "No.  I
just want this to be over."

 "Me, too," Nora replied.

"Did you say Jake was here?"  Isabel glanced quickly around the room.

"Where?"

"Somewhere.   Who cares?"   Nora took Isabel's elbow and began steering her
around the table.   "Come on.   I'll have you switch with Mr. Tuttle at the
front door."   "Why do you suppose he's here?"   No use pretending she didn't
know who Isabel meant.   "I don't know.

Bored, perhaps.  Or maybe he just wants to confirm what he probably already
thinks--that the Springs is too backward a place to raise a child.  " " He's
never said that, has he?  " " No," Nora reluctantly agreed.

"At least, not within my hearing."

"You know, maybe he's not going to be a problem after all.   Maybe he's
changed his mind about fighting for the baby."   "I'm sure John would have
contacted us if that was the case."   Nora was irritated to find Isabel so
willing to give Jake Burdette that kind of credit.   "Well, he's been awfully
pleasant to me the few times I've seen him lately.   And he's certainly left
you alone."   Yes, he has, she thought sourly.   She got Isabel settled in a
folding chair by the door.   Leaning down to catch the girl's ear over the
music, she said,

"Don't trust him for a moment, Izzie.  All this good behavior probably means
he's taken his investigation underground."

"dai>" -- Charlie touched Jake's sleeve, and he turned his attention from
the dance floor, where a dozen couples were gyrating wildly to the band's
rendition of

"Rock Around the Clock."

"I know," Jake said.   "You hate this place, you don't know why I dragged
you here, and you want to go back to the cabin."   "No,"

Charlie said with a look that indicated he didn't know where that accusation
had come from.  "I think this old music's kind of cool.  I just wanted to
know if you'd give me some money for a piece of pie and a soft drink."  Jake
dug into the pocket of his jeans for change, hiding a smile of satisfaction.
Getting Charlie to come along with him to the local Order of Moose Hall had
taken a Herculean amount of persuasion.  The fact that the boy actually
didn't seem to mind being here was something short of a miracle.  They'd been
at this fund-raiser nearly an hour now, and though the room was crowded, with
clusters of friends and neighbors spilling out into the parking lot and
around a small banquet area where a potluck dinner was being served, not once
had Jake managed to run into Nora Holloway.  He wasn't avoiding her, but she
seemed to have that in mind for him.  He'd caught sight of her dancing
occasionally, making announcements about the bake sale and upcoming Memorial
Day festivities, ferrying a tray of refreshments to the band members.  Not
once did their gazes meet, and he would have bet money that was the way she
intended to keep it.  He wasn't particularly bothered by her efforts to avoid
him.  His purpose for coming tonight had not been to make her life
miserable--although he felt certain she probably thought otherwise.  No, he
had taken Ben's advice, come to the place where most of Nora's former
boyfriends would be gathered.  Surely one or two of these guys would reveal
any.  problem.  she had that he should know about for the baby's sake.  Any
moral inadequacies, sexual misconduct.

But as the evening wore on, he began to wonder what had possessed him to
think that approach would work.  Not one guy in the room had anything bad to
say about Nora.  Jake drank a half-dozen glasses of punch and more beers than
he wanted, laughed at the worst jokes and talked sports until his tongue went
numb.  And to what purpose?  Walt Clevenger.  Steven Westmeyer.  Bud
Langizano.  Every one of them thought Nora Holloway was the answer to a man's
dreams.  Pretty enough to get them hot, sweet enough to make them feel strong
and manly, bright enough to make them feel clever for managing to snag her
interest.  Relationships that had lasted three weeks, a month, six.

And when they were over, not a one of them felt cheated, manipulated or
resentful.  The closest thing to a complaint came from Alan Harcourt, a
ranger at the park, who told Jake that Nora had too soft a heart and had
loaned him money when she was short of funds herself.  Try making a judge see
the down side to that!  Jake groused inwardly as he walked through the room
to check on Charlie.  He could picture Gregg Sanstrom running with it.  Your
Honor, Miss Holloway's too generous.  She'll spoil this baby.  Yeah, that had
a snowball's chance in hell of working.  He found Charlie at one end of an
empty banquet table, showing a pretty young girl with long, blond hair how to
kill invaders on the video game he always carried in his back pocket.  The
kid looked guilty and flustered when he caught sight of his father and stood
up immediately.

"Did you need me?"  the boy asked.  "No," Jake said.  "I thought you might be
ready to leave."

"I'm doing okay," Charlie said nonchalantly.   He jerked his head in the
direction of the girl, who turned a sweet, innocent smile on Jake.   "This is
Darlene.   I'm just showing her how to get through the first level of Space
Scow."   "And then I'm going to show him how to dance," Darlene spoke up.

Darlene rebuked that claim with a laugh and a toss of blond curls.

Jake gave his son an encouraging smile.  "Come get me if you need anything,
Charles.  I'll be in the other room."  He turned to leave, but Charlie caught
up with him before he got to the door, catching Jake's sleeve.  "Just one
thing," he said softly, flicking a quick look at Darlene.  "If you see me out
on the dance floor, don't make a big deal out of it.  Okay?"

"Okay," Jake promised.   He looked into his son's grave eyes, saw the small,
straight shoulders and stubborn chin that he had inherited from Jake's side
of the family.   "And call me Charlie," the boy instructed firmly.   "It's
more macho, don't you think?"   Before Jake could answer, Charlie was heading
back to Darlene.

Jake stood there stupefied for a moment.  Maybe God had decided he couldn't
handle a battle with both Nora Holloway and his son, and was giving him a
little break from the hostilities.  Whatever the reason, Jake decided to just
shut up and let things happen.  He wandered back into the main hall.  The
band was evidently on a break.  The dance floor had cleared, and Nora stood
on the stage, turning a large jar of tickets in her hands, over and over
again.  The spotlight made the healthy shine of her hair seem like a halo.
The red dress she wore swirled around her knees like living fire, and Jake
wondered why, with legs like that, she didn't wear dresses all the time.  He
found a spot in the back of the crowd, next to a be speckled teenage boy who
held his admission ticket in one hand and smiled at Jake.  "Last of the door
prizes," the kid said and wiggled his eyebrows hopefully.

Jake didn't bother pulling out his ticket.  He never won those things, and
anyway, he'd seen the door prize--the big one.  What would he do with a
cypress knee clock the size of a wagon wheel?  He settled back on his heels,
feeling the effects of the beer, prepared to wait.

Wondering what he'd have to do to get Nora to dance with him.  Hell, just to
get her to look at him.  "and this clock has a retail value of forty-five
dollars," Nora was telling the audience.  "Thank you, Ed Hansen of Ed's
Hardware for donating it."  A hush descended on the crowd.  Nora fished
around in the jar with her free hand.  "And the winning number is..."  The
band provided a drum roll.  She plucked out a ticket and cocked her head to
read the digits printed on one end.

"Six-two eight-one," she called out, then shaded her eyes against the
spotlight's glare.  "Do we have a winner?  Six-two eight-one?"  The crowd
stirred, waiting for the winner's shout.  The kid next to him was fumbling
with his glasses, trying to check his ticket in the poor light.  Jake read
the numbers over the boy's shoulder.  Six-two-eight one.  Congratulations,
son, was on the tip of his tongue.

He actually nudged the boy's shoulder; And then he had an idea.  He clamped
his fingers around the kid's forearm, pulling him a few steps away from the
mob of people pressing around the stage.  "You're the winner, kid," Jake told
him in a low voice.  "You really want a forty-five dollar clock?  Or the
hundred-dollar bill I've got in my wallet in exchange for your ticket?"  The
teenager's eyes went wide.

"You serious, man?"  The crowd was growing restless.  On the stage Nora was
shaking the jar once more.  "We may have to draw again..."

Quickly, Jake slipped his wallet out, peeled off the last of the money he'd
withdrawn from the ATM this morning and showed it to the boy.

"Make a smart decision," he told him.  "But make it quick."  Almost in one
movement, the boy snatched the money and thrust the ticket in Jake's hand.
He shook his head.  "You must really like cypress wood."

"Crazy about it," Jake said, already maneuvering through the crowd.

"If we don't have a winner..."  Nora leaned to speak into the microphone.
"We do!"  Jake shouted.  He raised his hand over the throng of people,
jabbing the ticket in the air.  "Here!  Right here!"

The audience peeled back.  He moved forward, his eyes on Nora, who was
scanning the crowd.  When he stood directly in front of her, he smiled.

With the spotlight no longer directly in her eyes, she recognized him for
the first time.  And frowned.  "Six-two-eight-one."  He offered up the ticket
cheerfully.  "The winner."  She took the ticket out of his hand as though it
were radioactive.  "I'll have to check the numbers,"

she said sharply, and gave him a look that wasn't at all what the good
townspeople of Blue Devil Springs would have expected from one of their
favorite citizens.  "Of course."  She matched the ticket with its mate.

Reluctantly.  Recovering some of her poise, she spoke into the mike, "It's
official, folks."  Over the groans of disappointment--considerable when you
took into account that it was just a clock, after all--Jake put his hand
around his mouth and stage-whispered up to her, "Go again."  She had to lean
down to catch his words.  "What?"

"I'm giving the clock back.   Pull another number and make someone else
happy."   "Why?"   "Just do it."   She eyed the crowd, which had begun to
break off into little groups, waiting for the next set from the band.

He could see her weighing possible reasons for his request, coming up empty.
With one hand angling the microphone away from her, she leaned down farther,
until she was almost balanced on her knees.  "" And in return, what do you
get?  " He grinned up at her.  " In return, you give me one dance.  A slow
one.  "

She shook her head, didn't even blink.  "That's not the way this works."
"You're the lady with the power here, aren't you?  You can do what you want.
Tell them I'm just a visitor, and I can't take the clock with me on the
plane.  That's not quite true.  But you say it, and they'll believe it.
These people think you hung the moon."

"This is silly.   If it's just a dance you want, I'll" -- "Uh-uh," he cut
her off.

"You've spent this entire evening trying to avoid me, so don't pretend you'll
dance with me if I ask you to.  You're afraid to be near me.  Admit it."  She
shot upward in outrage.  The microphone stand clanked loudly back into place,
screeching and drawing everyone's attention as it picked up the words she
rasped out,

"Why, you shirty, arrogant" -- The crowd went silent, turning back toward the
stage.

Nora's cheeks had gone nearly as bright as her dress, but to her credit she
hardly missed a beat.  She smiled into the spotlight, tossing a stray curl
away from her face and wetting her lips with the swipe of her tongue.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said hurriedly.  Then with more composure,

"Friends and good neighbors."  She tossed an affectionate look down at Jake,
and he wondered if anyone else knew how patently false it was.  "It seems
that our winner tonight has graciously declined the prize.  He's just passing
through, and I'm afraid he doesn't have any room for it.  However, he's
suggested that we draw again for a new winner..."  She stopped, again
favoring him with a toothy smile.  "And in addition, he's generously donated
two hundred dollars of his own money in support of our efforts to buy a new
pumper truck for the fire department.  Let's hear it for him, folks!"
Donating a cypress knee clock was one thing, but two hundred dollars was
enough to pull several gasps of delight from the crowd.  The band went into a
few, sudden bars of

"For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."  The people closest to him clapped him on the
shoulder and shook his hand.  And all the while he managed to keep the grin
on his face.  Above him, Nora looked immensely pleased with herself, and he
had to give it to her--she'd one- upped him.  She pulled another ticket.  The
clock went to an older woman in the back of the hall who whooped as though
she'd just won the state lottery.  His two hundred dollars went to Chief
Quinn, who looked at him suspiciously when he confessed that he'd have to
give him a check.  The band dribbled a few notes and then slid into

"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,"

making the song sound soulful and dreamy.  Nora had come down from the stage.

She held out her hand with a teasing arch of her eyebrows, her eyes
sparkling.  "Your two-hundred- dollar song, I believe.  I hope you'll find my
dancing ability worth it."  He took her into his arms, catching her close
with a breath of triumphant laughter.  "Let's find out," he whispered against
her ear.  His arm was around her waist.  He brought their entwined fingers
next to his chest.  His eyes were on her face; hers were on some safe spot
over his shoulder, but she was as close to him as she'd been in the glade,
and he could feel his heart reacting just the same way.  Keep it light,
Burdette, he lectured himself sternly.  You've got her.  Don't chase her
away.  They moved without words for a few moments.  He pulled her nearer,
making her aware of his balance and command.  He hadn't danced in years, but
it came back to him fast.  Besides, she was so pliant in his arms.  She made
it easy.

She made it wonderful.  He wanted to close his eyes and float with the music.
Eventually she pulled her head back, far enough to catch his eye.  "You're
not angry about the two hundred dollars?"

"No.   It's for a worthy cause."   A second or two passed while she digested
that.

"So?"  she quizzed lightly.  "How am I doing?"

"Worth every penny, I think.   But I may need another dance to be sure."
"Well, you only paid for one."   Jake laughed.

Her glance narrowed.  "How did you get the winning ticket?  I know you
didn't come by it honestly."

"God likes me," he explained simply and gave her a broad, silly grin.   She
frowned.   "If that's true, I'm giving up all faith in a higher power.   The
truth, please.   If you're capable of telling it."   "I bribed the kid who
had it.   A hundred bucks."   "A hundred" -- She gasped and missed a step.
"Are you nuts?

I'm not even that good a dancer.  " " You underestimate yourself.  " To prove
that statement, he led her into a sudden, exultant turn, which she followed
beautifully.  But when he pulled her against him again, she stiffened a
little.  The suspicion in her eyes had darkened.  " Are you drunk?  " she
asked.  " No.  " " Then what's this all about, Jake?  "

"Exactly what it seems."  He gave her a speculative look.  "Do you always
overanalyze things?"

"I don't usually.   But with you I'm suspicious."   She shook her head at
him quickly.   "If you think you can charm me out of adopting" -- He stopped
her by tightening his arm against her back, letting his eyes travel over her.
"So... you find me charming?"   "Not nearly as charming as you find
yourself."   "Ouch!

Where's the angel everyone else in this town sees?  "

" What?   "

"Nothing."

"I'm not going to give up Isabel's child, Jake" -- Again he stopped her with
a jerk of his arm, giving her a serious look this time.  "Just for tonight,
let's not fight," he said softly.  "Let's talk.  Like two adults who've
discovered an interest in one another."

"Oh," she said lightly.   "Fiction."   "You don't think we have things in
common?"   he countered with a small frown.   "By the way, how's my dancing?"
"Fine."

"I like it, too.  See?  We do have things in common."  She laughed a little
at that.  Then she gave him a level look, and he could almost see her mind
searching for a safe topic.  "I think we should talk about something else."
"Name it."  She was silent for a moment or two.

Finally she asked,

"Can you really speak six languages?"

"Oui, mademoiselle."   He smiled at her.   "tm eres muy preciosa.   Voglio
fare I'amore con ti.   That's three of them.   Want a translation?"   "I
don't think so," she said softly, and he watched a warm blush of color slip
down her cheeks and throat, all the way to her shoulders.   Even if she
didn't understand French, Spanish or Italian, she obviously recognized his
tone.   And maybe the longing he didn't bother to keep out of his eyes.

"I can talk sexy in eight," he pursued.  "Want to hear?"

"No."   "I'm very good, Fraulein.   How about a lesson?   It's all in the
way you roll your tongue."   He leaned close to her, letting his tongue slide
along the soft shell of her ear.   He heard the breath stall in her throat,
felt the shivery reaction of her body.   Then she jerked her head back in a
rush, glaring at him with a look that bore all the signs of panic.

He thought: She's afraid.  Not of me.  Of feeling too much alive.

"Stop that!"  she hissed at him.  "People are watching."

"Of course they are," he said in mild agreement.   "I'm the mysterious
benefactor of the fire department."   "You know, you really are the most" --
He never heard her opinion of what he really was the most of, because he
nuzzled his Ups against her ear this time.   She made a little sound of
protest, but she didn't pull her head away, and her fingers around the back
of his neck tightened.   "Beautiful," he murmured.   "So beautiful... Shall I
stop?"   Her head moved, a small rejection of that idea.   Suddenly he didn't
care if the whole damn room was watching.   If the dance had ended and they
were the only two people left on the dance floor.   He brushed a gentle kiss
along her jawline, and she moaned softly in pleasure.   He wanted to make
love to her.

Impossible here, of course.  But someplace, some haven.  His gaze flickered
idly over the crowd around them.  He spotted Ben talking to a pretty young
woman at the edge of the dance floor, a couple devouring two plates of
cheesecake with almost identical speed, the shimmer of a metallic red
contribution bucket being passed around the crowd by the fire chief.  And
then his eyes drifted toward the front door.  and his heart stopped.  "Oh ...
my ... God."  Nora angled her head back to look at him.  Her pupils were vast
and dark, as if she had been falling into a drugged state.  "What in all
that's holy is she doing here?"  he said in a low growl.  "Who?"  With a jerk
of his head, he indicated the front entrance, where the late arrival of a
beautiful woman was creating a stir of interest.  "Don't you recognize her?"
"No," Nora said, trying to focus, trying to get a closer look.  "You know
her?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jake said and dropped his arms from Nora as the song
ended.  He knew her, all right.  "It's Thea.  My ex-wife."

CHAPTER TEN jake was stunned to see Thea standing at the front entrance.
Still holding on to Nora's wrist, he pushed his way through the crowd.
Behind him he heard a whispered remark or two as a few people recognized La
Paloma's beautiful spokes model.  He didn't waste time with pleasantries.
Thea wouldn't expect them from him anyway.  He stopped directly in front of
her as she started to move into the room, so quickly that Nora nearly overran
his back.  She pulled her arm from his grasp.  "What in hell are you doing
here?"  he demanded in a low voice.  Thea smiled thinly up at him, all silk
and perfume in a room full of denim and fake fire.  "Really, Jake, what kind
of welcome is that?"

"The only kind you're likely to ever get from me," he snapped back.   She
pouted prettily, probably for the benefit of the people around her who had
fallen silent.   Jake could feel their curious stares.

"Why don't you ask Charles why I'm here?"  she said.  "He's the one who
telephoned me."

Jake couldn't bear to believe that.  He didn't want to think that he'd been
wrong about the past few days.  He opened his mouth to refute that claim, and
in that moment he became aware of movement behind him as someone broke
through the crowd.  "Mother!"  Charlie exclaimed: "You're here!"  He stopped
just short of launching himself into Thea's arms.

Maybe he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Darlene, who was close
on his heels, staring at Thea with wide-eyed excitement.  Thea laid delicate
hands on the boy's shoulders.  "Of course, darling.

Would I let you down?  " A cautious, sideways glance up at Jake.  " Your call
sounded so desperate.  " " That was days ago.  " Charlie flicked an
uncomfortable glance toward his father.  " I can't just drop everything,
Charles.  But I'm here now.  You remember my personal assistant Anthony,
don't you?  " She linked arms with the man who had just come through the
door, and Anthony gave them an all- encompassing nod.  Two hundred pounds of
steroid- enhanced muscle filling his clothes as though they had grown on him.
Silent and attentive.  The perfect lover.  Charlie had no interest in
Anthony.  He frowned up at his mother.  " How did you know we were here?  "
Thea straightened.  " Well, I have to admit, this is the last place I would
have expected to find you"-- Another glance in Jake's direction.  " Even you.
But a drippy-nosed young man at that quaint little place where you're
staying said you were here, and of course, I couldn't wait another minute to
see you.  " She turned an accusing eye on her ex- husband.  " This is quite
an interesting place you've brought our son to, Jake.  " " It's not so bad.
Mother.  I'm"-- " I Suppose you've got your reasons," Thea went on, her
attention fully focused on Jake.  Then she spotted Nora standing at his
shoulder.  Extending a slim hand, she gave her the smile a dozen
photographers loved.  " Hello, I'm Thea.  And you are.  " " Nora Holloway,"
Nora returned with a sweet smile of her own.  " That drippy-nosed young man
you met at the Hideaway is my brother.  Trip, and we own that quaint little
place.  " " Oh.  So sorry," Thea apologized.  " It's just a little more
rustic around here than I'm used to.  " She scanned the room for the first
time, taking in the scene with a show of wide-eyed interest.  " Have I barged
in at an inopportune time?  " " Not at all," Nora returned graciously.  "
It's a fund-raiser for our fire department.  In fact, we'd be delighted to
have a donation.  It was very nice to meet you, but I hope you'll excuse me
now.  There are so many things to tend to before the night's over.  "

She turned to look at Jake.  "Thank you for the dance, Jake."

"Nora..."  He didn't want her to go.  But she was already moving through the
crush.  "Lovely girl, Jake," Thea said with approval.

Charlie remembered his manners and pulled Darlene forward.  "Mother, this is
my friend, Darlene.  She" -- "Charles!"

Thea said sharply, ignoring the girl completely.  "What are you doing in
jeans?"

"I__"

"You're the lady in the fashion magazines," Darlene said in an awed voice.
Suddenly Thea noticed Darlene.  She tilted a smile at her.

"Very wise, dear.  Always befriend a boy's mother.  But, you still can't
steal my son's heart without my permission, you know," she said with a laugh.
Charlie went a mortified red.  "Mother" -- Enough!  Jake thought, and
stepped closer to grab Thea's arm.  "Could I speak to you?

Alone?  " Before she gave an answer, he ushered her away from the door, into
a little alcove where a fiery red curtain of metallic flames cut them off
from the rest of the crowd.  " I don't know what you're doing here"-- " I
told you, our son called me.  It sounded to me like a cry for help.  So I
came.  " " Then that would be the first damn time in years that you've paid
any real attention to him.  Understand me, Thea.

I don't know what you expect to accomplish with this little visit.

But you violate one word of our custody agreement, and I'll haul your scrawny
butt into court.  " He shook her arm for emphasis.  " Got it?  "

She jerked out of his grasp and stepped back.  "Charming as ever, I see," she
said with a lift of her chin.  "But I know this nasty attitude isn't really
about us.  It's about Charles.  Because no matter how much you try, you
can't stop my son from missing me.  Can you?"

 "No," he admitted.

"I wish to God I could.  But I can make sure he doesn't go down the same
stupid, self-indulgent path you're on."

"Don't play the loving-father role for me, Jake Burdette.   You weren't
around often enough to make a difference in his life."   "You're right.
I've made some mistakes.   Big ones.   But I'm doing the best I can to
correct them now.   I won't let you undo what little progress I've managed to
make."

"I didn't come here to fight with you," she said, pushing a blond curl back
into place.  "I came for Charles's sake.  The truth is, I have to be in Japan
in three days.  La Paloma's taking the ad campaign worldwide.  Commericals,
personal appearances.  I'm booked solid for the next three months."

"So you thought you'd just pop in to say goodbye before you go?"   "I wanted
to see him before I go," she protested.   "Three months is such a long time
to be away from him."

Jake shook his head.  "I'm not buying this act."  She sighed heavily, as
though giving up this particular tack.  "Okay, here's the situation.

Charlie thinks I've come to rescue him from you, but for once, I'm on your
side.  He still doesn't seem to understand our.  new arrangement.

And I don't have the time to explain it to him.  Again.  " He stared down at
her.  How could he ever have thought he loved this woman?  " God, Thea," he
said softly.  " You used to spend hours telling Charlie stories when he was
little.  When did you lose interest in your own son?  " Her cold, blue eyes
sparked fire.

"Don't talk to me like that.  You know I love that boy."

"But never as much as you love yourself."   She blinked, obviously offended,
but unwilling to show it.   "I put my career on hold once before.   Which is
more than you ever did, by the way.   I'm not going to let a second chance
slip through my fingers.   Not even for Charles.   Now, are you through
berating me?"   she asked, her mouth tight with displeasure.

"I'd like to get back to my son."  She made a move to leave, and he caught
her arm.  "One more thing.  No time alone with him unless I know about it.
Is that clear?"

 "For God's sake, Jake!   I'm not a monster.

I took care of Charles for years while you were off traipsing around the
world.  " " Yes, I know how well you took care of him.  I saw the pictures in
the tabloids, remember?  " She exhaled slowly.  " It was one time.  A silly
party that got out of hand.  I thought he was still upstairs in his room.  If
I'd known he'd come down, I'd have blistered his behind.  " " And yet you're
still with that son-of-a.  " Jake jerked his head toward the outer room.  "
You're still with Anthony.  "

"Anthony's my personal assistant, and a damn good one.  And I'm not going to
apologize for being in love with him."  She wet her lips, glancing up at
Jake with a resentful look.  "You're wrong about him.  He's got it under
control now.  He's not using" -- "I don't care if he fries the last brain
cell he has in his head," Jake snapped.  "I don't want him around Charlie.  I
mean it, Thea.  You think I won't take what I know to the corporate suits
that make all the decisions at La Paloma?  I imagine they have a roomful of
lawyers who spend all their time figuring out ways to break contracts with
spoiled spokes models who misbehave."

 "Fine."   She acquiesced at last by throwing up her hands.

"I won't let him within fifty feet of Charles.  But not because of any
threats you've made."  Her eyes narrowed.  "Don't think you can dictate to me
forever, Jake."  Throwing him one last, murderous look, she parted the
shimmering red curtain and stalked away.  the dance was over for another
year.  Wearily Nora surveyed the hall, glad that she'd asked Alan Harcourt to
take Isabel home.  She wasn't sure she was up to answering any more of the
girl's questions about this evening.  All around her the cleanup crew of
volunteers had gone into action.

Wordlessly, she joined them, hoping that by keeping busy, she'd have no time
to think.  For now, she was determined not to revisit the evening's events.
Especially after what she'd found out.

Then, a voice from behind stopped her in the middle of tearing down the last
red streamer.  "Need any help?"  She looked back over her shoulder.  Jake
stood in the middle of the dance floor, smiling up at her.  She shook her
head at him and focused on dragging the podium to the back of the stage.
"Stubborn as ever," she heard him mutter, and from the corner of her eye she
watched him approach the stairs.  She let the podium thump into place, then
turned a look his way.  "Don't,"

she said firmly.  "Go home."  He halted with his foot on the first step, a
small frown creasing his forehead.  "Nora?"  She was so tired.

Her mind was fighting to hold on to control, to her temper, and losing,
losing.  "I'm almost finished here," she told him.  "Then let me buy you a
cup of coffee to celebrate your success."  It had been a successful event,
but celebration seemed impossible right now.  "I just want to go home," she
said.  "Are you all right?"  he asked, a worried tone suddenly in his voice.
"I can take you home if you like."

 "No!"   She turned a harsh look on him.   "Don't you understand?

I don't want anything from you.  " She shook her head, advancing a few steps.
" Why did you come back here?  Did you think it would be an opportunity to
gloat?  "

"What are you talking about?  I came back because I didn't like the way we
left it tonight.  Our dance was over so abmptly, and I know you must be
wondering" -- "I'm not wondering anything.  You got want you wanted, didn't
you?"  She tried to go around him, but he caught her hand, pulling her back.
"Nora, what is it?"

"Let go of me."   "Not until you tell me what's wrong."   She gave him a
venomous look.   "While you were getting reacquainted with your ex-wife, Alan
Harcourt asked me to dance.   He didn't pay three hundred dollars for the
privilege, but I said yes anyway, because he's been such a good friend all
these years."

She cocked her head at him.  "But then, you'd know that, wouldn't you, since
you've made it your business to find out everything you can about my personal
relationships with men."  He didn't look stunned by this revelation, but his
fingers relaxed, so that she slipped from his grasp.  With the accusation
out, the fight had left her body.  Her legs folded up under her, so that all
she could do was sink to the top step of the stage, miserable.  Elbows
balanced on her knees, she cradled her hot cheeks in her hands.  The long
silence between them helped her get her emotions under some control.  When
she spoke at last, her voice was strong.  "Tell me something, Jake, was there
any man in the room tonight that you didn't pump for information about me?"
He came to join her on the step, lowering himself beside her in one fluid
motion.  She stayed where she was.  She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of
thinking he could send her fleeing.  "Nora," he said at last.  "I just
wanted" -- "I know what you wanted," she cut across the explanation, meeting
his eyes squarely.

"You wanted dirt.  Some sleazy, disgusting life-style you could parade in
front of a judge.  Does that just about sum it up?"

"Yes."   His answer was hardly a whisper.   "That's probably the first
honest answer you've given me all night."   "Listen to me" -- The world began
to throb to the rhythm of her pounding pulse.   "No!   You listen to me.   I
know I've been the worst kind of fool for letting a few turns around a dance
floor lull me into believing you were something you're not.   Whatever
entertainment you're getting out of all this, I'm not going to be a willing
participant while you plot your next move against me."   She looked away from
him, running both hands through her hair as she steadied her voice.   Almost
to herself, she said, '.   "I'm not going to be a fool any longer.   I'll get
as tough as I need to be to keep you from taking Isabel's baby."   She turned
to look at him again.   "So I'm putting you on notice.   Don't expect to be
able to sweet-talk or seduce me into giving up, because I won't.   And you
can dig around in my past as much as you want, but it's not going to do you
any good.   Do we understand one another?"

"I think you've made yourself pretty clear," he answered somberly.

"Good."  She was down the stairs and halfway across the empty dance floor
before she realized the tears were rolling down her cheeks.  trip met nora at
the front door of the lodge-- excited.  He'd checked Thea and her assistant,
Anthony into Cabin One.  For all the woman's snide complaints about the lack
of sophistication in this part of Florida, she'd evidently realized that if
she wanted a bed for the night, she had damed few choices.  The irony did not
escape Nora--a fitting ending to the evening, she thought.  Isabel had given
Trip a few sketchy details before turning in, but he wanted more.  A
celebrity staying at the Hideaway.  A gorgeous one at that.  What was it,
Nora wondered, that made men so blind to everything but physical beauty?

She wasn't up to dealing with her brother's questions so she shut her bedroom
door firmly.  Time enough to make amends over breakfast the next morning,
when her head wasn't thumping so badly, and her heart didn't feel like stone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN with a resigned sigh, Jake rose from bended knees beside
Cabin Two and stared down at the pitiful excuse for a boat that he and
Charlie planned to enter in the Spring Bash and Dash race tomorrow.  From the
looks of it, no one would ever guess he knew anything about construction.
Initially he'd conceived of something bold and sleek and fast--a cross
between a canoe and a Polynesian outrigger.  But somewhere the vessel had
taken a turn for the worse, a very bad turn, and ended up looking like a
snub-nosed wooden dinghy instead.  Even the waterproof sealant he'd just
liberally coated the blasted thing with probably wouldn't help.  Once on the
river, this disaster was bound to sink like the Titanic.  Of course, it
probably didn't matter to Charlie one way or the other now.  With his mother
having checked in right next door last night, he'd probably have no interest
in boats or races.  Or fathers.  He'd been quiet over his breakfast cereal,
especially after Jake had refused his request to pay an early-morning call to
Cabin One.  The sullen boy Jake had hoped he'd seen the last of had come back
full force after that, and had spent the morning sulking in his bedroom.
Jake glanced down at his watch.  Nearly ten-thirty and still no sign of him.
Maybe lunch would bring him out.  He capped the can of water sealant and
scanned the area.  He seemed to be the only one stirring today.  Cabin One
stood a good fifty yards away, but there were no signs of life.  Of course,
Thea had never been a morning person.  The Hideaway was dead quiet, too.
Jake had been working on the boat all morning and only caught one quick
glimpse of Nora as she hurried down the stairs and into the company truck.
She didn't so much as glance in his direction.  There was a water spigot on
the side of the cabin, and Jake turned it on to clean the brush he'd used on
the boat.  As he finished the task, Nora's dog sidled up to him for a scratch.

"Hey there, Larry.  Want to take a ride on the river?  See if this thing will
float?"

"No way that's going to work."   Jake looked up; Charlie was standing in
front of him, his gaze focused on the boat.

The boy looked neat as a pin, his hair combed precisely, the jeans he'd
conceded to wearing the last few days replaced by his former attire.  Jake
kept his features calm, noncommittal.  "You're too late to help with the
boat," he said lightly.  "At least until the sealant dries.  We'll have to
give it a test drive.  Maybe this afternoon.  The race is tomorrow, you know."

His son turned toward him.  "You might have to do it alone," he said.

"I might not be here to help you win."  Jake felt his smile vanish.

"Why not?"

"Because Mother's come to get me.   She's going to take me with her."   Just
like that.   No doubts.   "Did she tell you that last night?"   "No."   "Then
how do you know that?"   The boy shrugged.   "I just do."   They stood
together in silence for a few minutes, while a woodpecker driHed away at a
nearby tree, and the breeze set the pines to whistling.   Jake didn't know
what to say, how to begin to tell his son the truth.   The kid looked so
confident, so reassured by what he believed his mother's arrival meant for
him.   How could Jake take that kind of faith away?   It was Charlie who
broke the silence.   "I'm sorry," he said, and sounded truly contrite.   "I
know it probably makes you mad that I called her.   But I want to be with
her.   And she wants to be with me."   Jake gave his son a regretful smile.
"I thought we were doing pretty well lately.   Just the two of us."   "You're
not so bad, I guess," Charlie acknowledged.   His cheeks worked as he chewed
the inside of his mouth.   "It's been different than I thought."   "So why
not give us a little longer to make it work?"   "Because Mother needs me.
You don't."

He couldn't let that one pass.  "Charlie" -- The boy scowled.  His eyebrows
dipped so low Jake could hardly see the boy's eyes.  "I want to see her," he
said.  "And you can try to stop me, but I'll find a way."  Jake watched him
swallow quickly, as if too many words had gotten out.  In spite of the little
tremor of anxiety that had been in his voice, there was determination there
as well.  His jaw was clamped shut, like an old turtle.  Jake took a deep
breath and calmed himself.

Much as he wanted to shake some sense into Charlie, he knew that his son
was in for a huge disappointment.  Soon Thea would have to break the news
about her trip to Japan.  Charlie would finally realize how expendable he was
to her life.  And Jake planned to be there to pick up the pieces.  There was
nothing to be gained by a show of force now.

"All right," he agreed, then jerked his head toward Cabin One.  "But not
there.  Go back inside.  I'll ask her to come over."  Charlie looked
momentarily surprised by his father's words.  Then he said,

"You don't like Anthony do you?"

"No."   "Why?   Because he's her boyfriend?"   "No."   Charlie looked at him
with heart-melting directness.   "Mother doesn't really love him, you know,"
he said in a rush.   "He's just someone who makes her feel good.   She needs
people around her to do that."   When Jake said nothing to that, he added in
a quieter voice,

"I'm sorry you don't love her anymore.  But I do."

"It's all right, Charlie," Jake said with an encouraging smile.  "A boy
should love his mother.  Now go inside and wait."  He watched Charlie take
one last look at the boat, then the boy walked away.  When Jake heard the
screen door squeal shut, he exhaled his anger and frustration in a long, slow
breath and headed down the path to Cabin One.  The place was still quiet.
The drapes were drawn tightly to keep out the day.  Time to face the music,
Jake thought, and two strides carried him up the stairs to the screen door.
He knocked loudly, and kept knocking until the inside door opened.  A
disheveled, silk-robed Thea stood behind the screen.  "Somebody had better be
dead," she said thickly.

He could see now why La Paloma had chosen her.  Even in the morning, with no
makeup, her skin was flawlessly beautiful--pale, but without the puffy
remnants of sleep.  "Sorry," Jake said, determined to be firm but pleasant.
"Your son wants to see you."

"Couldn't we do this later?"   "The problem isn't going away, Thea.   And
the longer you wait, the harder it will be on everyone.   Tell him the truth,
and then you can be on that plane to Japan."   There was a little whisper of
silk as she folded her arms tightly across her stomach.   "You just want me
out of here as quickly as possible."

"I'm not going to deny that.  But Charlie's got it in his head that you're
here to take him with you" -- "I never said that," she protested.

' "I believe you.  But that should give you an idea of what we're dealing
with.  He needs to hear it from you.  He's waiting for you in our cabin."
"All right," she said, raking her hand through her long hair.  "All right.
I'll get dressed.  Might as well get it over with."

He nodded as the door shut in his face.  For once, she was true to her word.
She met him on the porch of Cabin Two less than thirty minutes later.  She
wore too much jewelry and a silky royal blue skirt that flared around her
legs.  Something completely inappropriate for the Hideaway, but he wouldn't
have cared if she'd donned a potato sack, as long as they got this over with
once and for all.  She swept past him.

He caught her arm.  "No matter what you say, it's going to hurt him,"

Jake said in a low voice.  "But don't make it any worse by playing the poor
abused victim in this."  Her nostrils flared at that, but she didn't say a
word.  After the cabin door opened and shut with a faint click, Jake settled
on the top step of the porch and waited.  In less than half an hour she was
out on the porch again.  There was no sound from within the cabin, and when
Jake lifted his eyebrows at her questioningly, she stuck out her chin,
looking tense and nervous.  Jake took her arm.  "Let's walk a little bit."

He led her down the railroad-tie steps to the overlook of the spring, the
same place he'd spoken to Nora only a few days ago.  "Well?"  he asked,
turning her to face him.  "Did you tell him?"

 "No."   "What?"

he asked, stunned.  Her lips compressed in a tight line.  "I couldn't.

I tried, Jake.  Really, I did.  But he's so.  so determined to believe we're
going to be together.  " " The longer you let him think that, the tougher
it's going to be for him to accept the truth.  You have to tell him, Thea.  "
She gave him a desperate, impatient look.  " No.  It's too hard, Jake.  I
know I should be able to do this, but I can't.  You know how I dislike
emotional scenes and bad news.  " He stared at her, this immature,
sophisticated beauty who had never been forced to face up to the unpleasant
things in life.  It made him think suddenly of Nora Holloway, who had
struggled so hard for everything she had, and who had probably never run away
from anything.  " God, Thea," he murmured.

"When are you ever going to grow up?"  She heard him and swung around, frost
in her eyes.  "Just because I'm not like Nora Hollo- way" -- He frowned.
"What does Nora have to do with this discussion?"

"I saw the way you looked at her last night."   He wasn't going to explore
his relationship with Nora with his ex-wife.   He shook his head at her.
"Don't try to change the subject.   When are you going to tell Charlie he's
not going with you?"   She tossed her hair back over her shoulder.   "And
that's another thing," she said, her timbre darkening.   "When did he become
Charlie?   He corrected me twice when I called him Charles."   "He did?"

Jake replied, unable to stop a small smile for flitting across his lips.
"Well... that's interesting."  She stalked back toward him, hands on her slim
hips.  "It's your doing, isn't it?  I saw his clothes last night.  His hair.
He's even starting to sound like you.  You won't be happy until he's
completely unrecognizable to me, will you?"

He sighed, exasperated.  "Let's not argue about this.  Just tell me, when do
you leave for Japan?"  Tomorrow night.  " " Then sometime between now and
then you'll have to get up the courage to tell him the truth.  " He let his
voice drop to a near growl.  " I mean it, Thea.  By tomorrow night, you tell
him the truth.  Understood?  " Eyes flashing daggers, she nodded.  nora
stared down at the boat Charlie and Jake Burdette had hammered together,
critically eyeing the craft's center of gravity and its sleek, compact lines.
The Bash and Dash was only a few minutes away.  The judges had approved the
vessel's construction, but that high middle section... Nora didn't like the
looks of it.  A long shot to win, she figured, and they'd be lucky to keep
the craft from capsizing.  " What do you think, Nora?  " Charlie asked.  "
Are we gonna win?  " He was looking up at her with excitement and hope in his
clear, blue eyes.

Jake, whom she had not spoken to since the night before last at the Moose
Hall, stood a few feet away, trying to tighten the leather straps he had
secured around one of the homemade paddles he'd rigged out of broom handles
and plywood.  He didn't look up at her.  "It's got winner written all over
it," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back for telling what God
would surely consider only a little white lie.  "I don't see a single entry
that's got a better chance."  That was certainly true.  All around her were
vessels that could easily have come from some sea captain's nightmare.  Inner
tubes stretched over canvas.  Logs strapped together.  Washtubs and huge
plastic skimmers and floating bicycle-like structures that could be peddled
to churn the river water.  Not a seaworthy specimen among them.  She waved at
Trip across the spring, who was busy trying to stop his own homemade craft
from listing to one side.  This year he'd thrown together some sort of
sailboard, with one of the Hideaway's flowered bedsheets now flapping in the
breeze as a sail.  Doomed.  Every one of them.  At least the morning couldn't
have been more perfect.  A cloudless sky.  The sun warm as a balm on her
bare arms and legs.  She settled on the riverbank, feeling the tickle of
grass against the backs of her thighs where her shorts had ridden up to her
hips.  The weekend's festivities were barely under way, but Nora felt proud
of what she'd managed to accomplish.  Since the spring pool was the bubbling
headwaters of the river, the Bash and Dash had always been conducted on
Hideaway property, and with a glance around her, Nora decided that the place
had never looked more festive.

Breeze-whipped pennants had been strung from tree to tree.  Trip had trimmed
the grassy areas along the river so that picnickers and spectators could
enjoy the race.  The overlook had been turned into the judge's platform by
the judicious use of helium balloons, streamers and a huge banner tied to the
railing.  Everywhere around her people were laughing and talking excitedly.
No one could take the boat race seriously, but it had always been a favorite
event for the town.  She smiled, thinking how wonderful it would be to
someday share a day like this with Isabel's son-- her son--when he was old
enough to understand the value of having friends and neighbors whose company
you could count on and enjoy.  She wished Trip could understand that, but
they seemed destined to disagree.  Nora had a feeling that as soon as all the
excitement of the holiday was over, round two of their battle would commence.

Every day he seemed more and more eager to be away.  Behind her, Nora heard
the crunch of thick grass as someone approached.  She turned, shading her
eyes against the mild sunlight.  It was Thea, looking crisp in all-white.
Her eyes were hidden behind an enormous pair of sunglasses, and even with
that protection, her body language oozed one message: boredom.  "Mother!"
Charlie exclaimed excitedly, and when he stood up, the boat tipped
precariously.  "You came!  Is your headache better?  You'll stay and watch
us, won't you?"

 "Sit down, Charlie,"

Jake said from his spot behind the boat.  Wearing only a swimsuit, he stood
in water up to his knees.  Thea glanced around the area worriedly.

"Jake, do you really think this is a good idea?  Charles could get hurt."
"Mother!"  Charlie protested.  "I'll be with him, Thea," Jake replied.  "It's
just a little harmless fun.  The water's so shallow on this stretch that
no-one over ten is required to wear a life jacket.  Besides, Charlie can swim
like a fish."  Thea looked unconvinced.  "I don't like this," she said,
brushing a blade of grass from her skirt.

"It's all so ... so..."

"Provincial?"   Nora couldn't resist suggesting.   Over a span of
twenty-four hours, her curiosity about this woman had turned into active
dislike.   Thea frowned down at her.   "I was going to say crowded."

The announcer for the race began calling entry numbers.  The racers had been
broken up into four groups of eight.  Charlie and Jake's number had been
drawn for the first heat.  Charlie whooped excitedly and hunkered down in his
place at the bow of the boat, calling for his mother to sit and watch.  Jake
tossed one of the paddles to his son, slipped the other one back in the boat
and tried to swing one leg over the side.  The moment he took his weight off
the bottom of the spring, the boat tipped dangerously, sending Charlie
grabbing for the edge.

With the third try, Jake got aboard, but the vessel continued to rock.

"Move forward a little," Jake told his son.  Charlie scooted forward, then
back when that didn't work, but no matter how he positioned himself, the boat
refused to cooperate.  Jake hopped out, inspecting the sides of the boat.
The vessel began listing to the point of taking on water as Charlie leaned
far in the other direction to keep from being pitched out into the spring.
"Dad, they're calling our group number," Charlie said anxiously.  "Didn't
you try it out before now?"

Nora asked Jake.  After the fire department fundraiser, she'd decided to
ignore him as much as possible.  But it would be unthinkable to let Charlie
take a dunking because she was too mad at his father to offer advice.  "It
floated," Jake replied.  "Charlie was too busy elsewhere to test it with our
weight."  She didn't have to guess what Charlie had been too busy doing.
Since his mother's arrival, he probably hadn't budged from her side for more
than fifteen minutes.  "You need center weight to stabilize it," Nora said as
she rose to her feet.  Then she grinned, unable to resist an opportunity to
tease.  "I thought you were such a hotshot in construction."  He scowled up
at her.  "Bridges, not boats."

She picked up a large rock from the riverbank.  "Try this," she said, and
passed it to Jake, who placed it in the boat, dead center.  The rocking
motion settled a bit, but it was still bound to overturn once Charlie and
Jake started paddling toward the finish line.  Definitely not heavy enough.
"Get in.  Mother!  Hurry!"  Charlie coaxed with a beckoning arm.  "We need
you."

 "Sorry, darling, I don't think so,"

Thea said incredulously.  "This is a Takardi original I've got on."

With the announcer making the last call for their group, Charlie became
almost frantic.  He didn't waste time trying to convince Thea to participate.
He swung his head in Nora's direction, his eyes desperate and pleading.

"Nora, help us!  We need you for dead weight."

"Oh, thank you very much," Nora complained, but she was already slipping off
her sandals.

"I believe it's called ballast."  As she tried to slip gingerly over the
side, Jake shocked her by placing his hands around her waist and lifting her
bodily into the vessel.

"Sit still, and don't do anything," he told her.  "Charlie and I will do all
the work."  Nora nodded and sat uncomfortably where Jake had placed her.  It
hadn't really occurred to her that she'd be this close to him once she was in
the boat.  His knees touched the small of her back, and she could practically
feel his soft exhalation of breath on her neck.  Not unpleasant, but it
didn't do much for her comfort level, either.  They pushed off from the
water's edge, heading toward the starting lineup.  The boat was surprisingly
swift in spite of a few shaky strokes from Charlie in front of her.  A
starting rope had been strung across the river, and the racers could take any
position along the line they wished.  With one hand, Nora motioned toward the
left.

"Keep to that side," she directed.  "The current's swifter as we go around
the bend."

"Oh no, Charlie," Jake called over her head.   "We've got a back-seat driver
in our boat."   The boy looked over his shoulder and grinned at her.
"Fine," Nora said.   "Just don't come " crying to me when the trophy goes to
some guy in water wings.   " She noticed that he took her suggestion.   Every
racer had more than one passenger, and in an effort to get them all starting
evenly, the boatman in the back of each boat had to jump out and keep the
vessel from moving into the current.   Jake slid over the side again,
holding on to the boat with one hand and keeping his paddle ready in the
other.   In another minute one of the judges fired off a starting shot.   Icy
drops of water showered Nora and Charlie as Jake leaped back into the craft
and immediately dug his paddle into the clear spring.   " Like we practiced
on the porch, Charlie," Jake yelled.

"Stroke!  Stroke!"  And they were off.  Considering how little experience
Charlie had, he did a good job keeping up his end of the task.  Jake
encouraged him with every stroke, and Nora, getting excited as they passed a
trio of men on a Huckleberry Finn raft, took up the call as well.  All she
could hear was the sound of the crowd screaming encouragement for their
favorites, laughing hysterically as the worst of the racers floundered and
splashed water everywhere.  Ahead of them, a couple of teenagers on a log
wagon flipped over.  The river spat them up again and they scrambled to get
out of the way.  "Dig right!"  Nora shouted.  "No!  Too much.  You're
overcompensating!"  Somehow they made it around the sinking debris.  Nora
looked back over her shoulder.  Of the eight racers, two had already fallen
victim to the river, five were behind them and closing fast, only one was
ahead.  Pushing hair out of her eyes, she grinned at Jake, who was working
hard to keep the boat from zigzagging from one side of the river to the other.

"We need more power, Captain!"  she called to him.  "They're gaining on us."
Jake growled something at her she couldn't understand over the noise of the
crowd, but the twinkle of sunlight she glimpsed in his eyes told her he was
enjoying this as much as she was.  The finish line was in sight, though still
far away.  The announcer was screaming into the electric bullhorn now, and
people were elbow to elbow along the riverbank.  The boat slid by the crowd,
turning the onlookers into almost a blur.  Nora's excitement took a dramatic
leap forward as it actually began to seem as if they might catch the leader
and overtake him.  Charlie evidently felt it, too.  His thin, childish
muscles strained as he leaned into each stroke.  He was panting hard,
completely focused on the craft ahead of them.  But it was still too far
away, and as though he could make the boat more aerodynamic, Charlie bent low
into the bow.  "Charlie, don't," Jake warned.  But it was too late.  The boat
rocked wildly, and when Charlie tried to compensate for that movement, the
vessel tipped even more in the opposite direction.  Then Charlie tried to
stand.  Sensing he was about to go head first into the river, Nora made a
grab for him and snagged the back of his T-shirt.  He fell onto his seat,
hard.  The vessel bounced.  Unfortunately, Nora couldn't maintain her balance
by then, either.  In a cartwheeling smear of movement and sound, she heard
Charlie's yell and saw Jake's hand come out to snatch her back from the
brink.  Luck failed her this time.  She went over the side, into the icy
water.

CHAPTER TWELVE she was a sopping, freezing mess.  Her shorts and blouse
clung to her like a second skin, and her flesh was nothing but goose bumps.
Water dripped and soaked into the grass around her feet.

"Should have gone for the trophy, man," someone around her laughingly
suggested.  Nora looked up and was surprised to see that Jake and Charlie had
dropped out of the race.  Jake was in the water, guiding the boat to shore
with one hand.  He shook his head at the bystander who'd offered such a
ruthless suggestion.  "You know how women are.

We'd never have heard the end of it," he explained.  She made a face at him
and continued to squeeze excess water out of the hem of her blouse.

' "I was prepared to be sacrificed for the good of the team," she sniffed
indignantly.  Jake pulled the boat on land and helped Charlie get out.
"Doesn't matter," he said.  "Once we lost you for ballast, it was only a
matter of time before we were going to end up taking a bath, too."

"Oh.  And here I thought you were being gallant by coming back for me."
"Are you really all right, Nora?"  Charlie asked worriedly.

"Your lips are blue."

"I'm fine.   But next time, you sit in the middle.   I'll paddle."   There
was a flurry of movement at the edge of the crowd as Thea pushed her way
through.   She tilted her sunglasses up over her eyes, her concern centered
completely on her son.   "Charles!"

she nearly gasped out.  "My God, are you hurt?  I saw you bobbing and weaving
out there like a drunken sailor before I lost sight of you completely.
Someone said you'd capsized."  The boy looked horrified by all this
attention.  Jake merely looked disgusted.  "As you can see, Thea, he's dry as
a bone.  Nora's the one who went in."  The woman ignored that.  She flashed
an annoyed look up at Jake.  "I told you this was a mistake.  He could have
been thrown out of that ridiculous toy you call a boat and drowned."
"Mother, stop," Charlie said on a pained note.  "I'm all right.  Really.  We
lost, but we couldn't go on without Nora.  Could we, Dad?"  By now, Nora's
teeth were clanking like castanets inside her mouth.  Numbness was spreading
through her body.

She didn't want to spend any more time listening to this infuriating woman.
She wanted dry clothes or a hot bath.  Or maybe both.  Jake suddenly spoke
up, cutting off Thea's complaints.  "I'm walking Nora back to the lodge so
she can change clothes," he said unexpectedly.  "Charlie, why don't you and
your mother watch the rest of the race together?  I'll meet you at the
judge's stand afterward."  He didn't wait for their agreement.

Instead, he inclined his head toward one of the spectators seated in a lounge
chair by the river's edge.  "Can I borrow your blanket?"  he asked, motioning
toward a small quilt that was folded across the back of the chair.  The man
nodded, and Jake whipped the quilt off the chair.  Before Nora could react or
protest, he stood in front of her and brought the blanket around her body.
It was warm, and smelled sweetly of oranges.  The icy water was freezing her
thoughts, slowing her reflexes, but his touch against her throat, along her
arms, still came through loud and clear.  "Come on," he said when he'd pulled
the edges of the quilt as tightly around her as he could.  "I'll walk you
home."

"You don't have to," Nora protested past lips that felt as cold and lifeless
as marble.  "I'm going to, all the same," he replied, giving her one of his
level, unwavering looks.  He placed his hand along her back to guide her
toward the beaten-down path that led back to the spring steps.  "Are you
doing this just because you want to get away from your ex-wife?"

"No," he said with a little smile.   "I'm doing this because you've been a
good sport and didn't deserve a dunking in the river."

She felt silly cocooned in the blanket, but it was definitely wanner, and no
one seemed to think anything of it.  They wove past several of her friends
and neighbors, clustered in small groups along the riverbank.  Several of
them offered consolation to her and wished her better luck in next year's
race.  She and Jake had reached the bottom of the spring steps when the
announcer officially called the winner of the first heat.  The crowd
applauded and yelled.  Nora looked back over her shoulder.  "We could have
caught that guy, you know."

 "Maybe,"

Jake agreed.  "It was my fault.  We had a design flaw.  But we certainly gave
it our best shot, didn't we?"  She nodded and started up the stairs.  The
blanket began to drag a little, and she tugged it closer around her throat.
She felt the weight of Jake's hand even through the material as he made sure
she didn't trip or lose her balance.  Neither one of them spoke as they
maneuvered the steps.  When they reached the top, they began walking side by
side.  Nora turned her head to look at Jake.  "I've never seen Charlie so
excited.  He's certainly come out of his shell recently."

"His mother's presence here has a lot to do with that," he said.   "Although
I'd never have guessed he'd want her to see him actually enjoying this kind
of stuff."   ' "Maybe that's really what he wants to be.   A normal kid
having ordinary fun on a beautiful day."

"It would be nice to think that.  Nice to believe I'm making progress with
him."  They went up the wide front steps of the lodge.  At the double doors
Nora turned to face Jake.  He was studying her pensively.

She was unnerved, and had to clear a sudden tightness in her throat before
she could speak.  "Thanks for walking me back."

"You're welcome.   Will we see you later?"   "Perhaps.   Isabel wants to
check out the community rummage sale they're holding in the park today."
"How is she" doing?   " " She's still in bed.   The doctor put her on new
anti nausea medicine.   She's not used to being physically ill, so it's
taking quite a toll on her spirits.   That, and the fact that the baby's
future is still such an uncertainty.   " He frowned at that.   " I'm sorry.
It was never my intention to create stress for Isabel.   I want you to
believe that.   But I know raising Bobby's child is the right thing for me to
do.   I feel it in my gut.   " " Then that's no different from the way I feel
about it.   " His forehead creased again, and for a moment she thought he
would argue that statement Then he sighed and shook his head.   " No matter
what happens, Nora, I'd like you to believe that I don't want to deliberately
hurt you, either.   " She wanted to tell him that it was already too late for
that, but she didn't.   In spite of the lecture she'd given herself about
remaining unmoved by Jake's presence, she could feel her will crossing the
divide, wanting to connect with him in ways that had nothing to do with
Isabel's child.   She drew a deep, steadying breath, repeating the simple
mantra she'd created for herself.   Eventually, it slipped out between her
cold lips.   " I won't give up.   " He seemed to expect that.

"I know," he said.  "In a strange way, it's one of the things I've come to
admire most about you."  His gaze locked with hers again.  Neither of them
spoke, and before she could react, he pulled the blanket toward him, taking
her with it.  Her body trembled a little, but it wasn't because of the cold.
Jake bent his head and touched his lips to her cheek.  Then he placed light,
warm kisses along her jaw, the side of her mouth.  Her thoughts threatened to
lose focus, and with what was left of weak determination, she turned her head
away.  "You only want Isabel's baby," she accused softly.  "And you think a
few kisses will soften me up to the idea."  He shook his head, but didn't
stop what he was doing.  "I'm not thinking about the baby right now.  I'm
thinking about us.  And how much I've wanted to kiss you for so long."  She
closed her eyes.  This man was her enemy, and however enjoyable his touch
might be, he would always be the enemy.  "You think you can seduce me into
surrendering."

"Will you surrender?"   He stopped long enough to give her a wicked,
mischievous smile, the one that melted her right down to her bones.   She
swallowed hard.   "No."

"Then, why worry?  I can't change your mind, so there's no harm."

"There's no reason, either."

"So, kiss me now," he coaxed.   "And find your reasons for it later."   - He
covered her mouth with his, and this time she didn't try to hold anything
back.   His touch was too strong to be overcome; or else she was too weak.
Suddenly it just didn't seem to matter, and she knew that decision had come
from her heart and not her head.   charlie was so tired, his bones ached.
The boat race had been challenging and fun, even if they hadn't won.
Charlie thought he'd handled his paddle well--at least he hadn't looked like
a complete dork.   By noon, his mother had lost interest in the activities
and left him with his father, claiming she had business to take care of if
only she could find a telephone.   Secretly, Charlie knew that she liked to
nap in the afternoon when she wasn't on a photo shoot.   Although
disappointed, he tried not to mind.   His mother's beauty required a lot of
care.   He and his father had gorged themselves on hot dogs, French fries and
soda from the makeshift concession stand.   They planned to watch the rest of
the day's events from a nice, safe distance, maybe go into town later to see
what was happening in the town square.   It wasn't thrilling, but it was
okay.   And then Charlie spotted Darlene White in the crowd.   She looked
really pretty in a bright green shorts set, with her long hair caught in a
braid at the back of her head.   Surprisingly, his father left them alone.
well, as alone as you could get with a million people around you eating
cotton candy and playing Frisbee.   They sat on the riverbank and talked, and
he thought Darlene was the funniest, smartest girl he'd ever met.
Unfortunately, she seemed to take it for granted that he would enter some of
the afternoon's contests.   Personally, he thought a one-legged sack race and
a turtle race were stupid, and agreed with his mother--the prizes they
offered were not worth the effort it took to win them.   But Darlene claimed
he was strong enough to make a real difference in the tug-of-war, and before
he knew it, he had signed up for just about everything and had almost
forgotten his mother's warning that he should try not to get overheated.
With his father and Darlene cheering, Charlie's side won the tug-of-war.
Each member of the winning team got free hamburger coupons--oh, boy!   --
from the local hangout, but the blue ribbons that they passed around as well
were kind of cool.   At least, Darlene seemed to think so.
"Congratulations," his father said as they all stood around Charlie to admire
his prize.   "You see, I told you,"

Darlene pointed out in that superior way girls had.  "You were wonderful."
He felt a little light-headed all of a sudden, and yet his cheeks burned as
much as his muscles.  It must have been all the pulling and pushing he'd
done.  When Darlene slipped a few feet away to locate her family in the
crowd, Charlie pulled his father aside.  Indicating the ribbon in his hand,
he asked, "Can I go show Mother?"

"Looking that way?"   Jake's glance took in the shirt hanging in shreds on
his body.   "Do you want to give her a coronary?"   "They've started to pick
teams for the relay race," Darlene interrupted, with a glance over her
shoulder.   "My dad's planning to enter, and I promised to root for him."
His father inclined his head toward the line of Hideaway cabins at the top of
the slope.   "Why don't you go up and change your shirt, Charlie?   I'll walk
Darlene over to the race and we'll wait for you there."   Charlie nodded and
headed up the steps, taking them two at a time.   By the time he reached the
top, he was breathing hard again, and he had to bend over to catch his
breath.   He looked in surprise at his right knee.   It was bleeding slightly
from a small scrape.   He didn't remember falling, and it didn't even hurt.
Instead, he felt good.   Important.   Strong.   The ribbon lay lightly in his
palm.   He wasn't just a dumb kid with no talent.   The ribbon was proof of
that.   He could do anything.   What would Mother think to see him like
this-- bruised and torn and sweaty?

She'd probably blame his father for not stopping him from entering the
event, which really wasn't fair, but Mother sometimes got ahead of herself
and didn't think things through.  It would be funny to see her face, and
sorta nice to show her the ribbon.  It was already three o'clock.  Surely she
would be up from her nap by now.  He reached Cabin Two, and almost without
consciously making the decision, he continued to Cabin One.  Just in case she
was still asleep, he went quietly up the porch steps.  He saw that the inside
door was open, though he couldn't see much through the screen.  He glimpsed
movement, but in the moment when he would have called out, he realized that
his mother and Anthony were on the living-room couch.  Kissing.  Mashed up
against each other as though they were lovers in some movie.  He felt himself
go beet red.  He'd never seen anyone kiss like that before.  Like they were
trying to become one person.  Like they didn't have any control.

It kinda made him mad.  He didn't remember much about his parents' marriage,
but he knew he'd never seen them smooching like that.  He started to back
away slowly, but in the next instant, they pulled apart.  He could only see
the sides of their faces, but he thought they looked angry, out of breath.
Quickly, he pressed against the side of the doorway, knowing he could get
into trouble for eavesdropping, but unable to stop himself.

"Does that tell you where my feelings lie?"  his mother asked.  ' "Don't
ever accuse me of not loving you again."

"I didn't say you didn't love me," Anthony replied with a soft sigh.   "I
just asked how much longer you expect me to take a back seat to your son."
"Tony, darling.   Are you really jealous of my little boy?"   "I'm not
jealous, Thea.   I'm bored.   I want to get out of here."   "God, I can't
wait to leave either.   And we will.   We'll pack and be gone by dinnertime.
I promise."   "Just the two of us?"   "Just the two of us.   On that long,
long flight to Japan."   His mother's voice became teasing, almost
indiscernible.   "Have you ever done it in the bathroom of a plane at twenty
thousand feet?   We could be members of the Mile High Club before the night
is over."   Charlie didn't know what the Mile High Club was, and maybe
Anthony didn't either, because he sounded unimpressed and impatient when he
spoke.   "Have you spoken to Charles yet?"   "You sound just like Jake," his
mother complained.   "No, I haven't.   But I will."

"He can't come with us, Thea.  You know that.  I didn't sign on to be your
baby-sitter."  Charlie felt his anger rise to the surface.  Who was Anthony
to tell his mother what she could and couldn't do?  He waited expectantly,
knowing that she was probably going to take his head off for telling her she
couldn't be with Charlie.  "Of course he can't come with us," his mother
agreed.  "I never intended for him to.  Let Jake find out how difficult
raising a child can be.  I've got my career back, and I'm not going to waste
the few good years I have left."  There was silence after that, and Charlie
wondered how they couldn't hear his heart hammering, even from the distance
of the porch.  His vision blurred with tears.  For a moment everything around
him went white, and it only receded when Anthony spoke again.  "It's not like
your ex will let you have him, anyway," Anthony said, and he sounded meaner
than someone in love ought to,

"Yes, and I have you to thank for that."  Charlie blinked as Anthony swore
under his breath.  "Does he still think I'm a threat to the kid's safety?  I
ought to sue that son of a bitch for defamation of character."

 "Well, it was really stupid of you, darling.

Leaving your stash lying on the coffee table where Charles could see it.
Making jokes about getting him high.  " " It was just a joke, for God's sake!
And anyway, he was half-asleep.  He didn't have a clue what I was talking
about.  " " No, and neither did you.  Which is why I was willing to forgive
such bad behavior and give you a second chance.  "

There was another short silence, full of soft ARM EVANS 233 moans.  He
suspected they were kissing again.  Charlie wiped the tears off his cheek.
He hated them both.  And he hated himself most of all for being stupid enough
to think his mother actually cared about him.  At last, Anthony asked,

"When are you going to tell him?"

"All this commotion down at the spring should be over soon.   I'll find Jake
and convince him I can't do it alone.   He doesn't want to see Charles hurt,
so he'll try to make it easier for him."   "I don't want to spend the next
couple of hours listening to the kid bawling because he can't have his own
way."   "He won't cry," she told him.   "He knows I don't like it.   Charles
will understand.   He always understands."   She sounded as though she was
smiling, full of laughter.

"And he loves me too much to make a real fuss once he knows I'm serious."
"Poor guy.  Loving you is one heck of a full- time, high-maintenance job."
"Don't be cruel.  You know you mean everything to me."

"Come here.   Show me how much I mean to you."   Charlie couldn't stay to
hear any more.   Somehow he peeled himself away from the doorway.   Without a
word or glance inside the cabin, he avoided the front steps and slipped
quietly down the length of the porch.   He lifted himself over the railing
and jumped to the ground, landing on his hands and knees.

He headed toward his father's cabin.  He needed time to think, and not even
being with Darlene White would make him feel better right now.  At the cabin
steps he heard the sound of cheering coming from the spring area.  The relay
race had probably started by now.  His father would be expecting him back.
Charlie looked down the sunlit slope, seeing nothing but people having fun,
being families, sharing good times.  He turned his back on the sight, and
instead of going inside the cabin, headed toward the front drive of the
Hideaway.  when charlie didn't make it back for the start of the relay race,
Jake wasn't concerned.  He could imagine the kid wanting to clean up and look
his best for Darlene, who seemed to think he was pretty special.  After the
race, Jake shook hands with the girl's father, who was excited that his team
had come in second.  He listened politely, making conversation with the White
family while he waited for Charlie to come back.  But by the time the next
event was called, Charlie still hadn't reappeared.  He had made an
agreement with Darlene White that if he entered the tug of-war, she'd have to
do her part by entering the egg toss.  Now, with a last glimpse over the
crowd and a look of disappointment clearly drawn across her face, the girl
ran to take her place with the other entrants.  Excusing himself, Jake jogged
up the slope, scanning the crowd as he went.  Charlie's tardiness seemed
strange.  The boy probably wouldn't have hesitated to ditch his father--Jake
had no illusions about that--but Darlene was another matter completely.  He
wouldn't have missed the opportunity to be with her.  Their cabin was silent
and looked empty.  Jake strode to Charlie's bedroom, hoping that he'd
misjudged the situation entirely, that he'd find his son still changing
clothes or asleep on the bed, exhausted from the day's events.  Instead, it
was clear Charlie hadn't been here.  No torn and dirty clothes were hanging
neatly over the back of the chair.  None of his other clothes were missing
from the bureau.

There was no sign in the bathroom to indicate he'd taken a shower or even
washed the dirt from his face.  Jake supposed Charlie could be with his
mother.  If it was possible for anyone to snag the kid's attention away from
Darlene, it would be Thea.  He left his cabin and walked quickly toward Cabin
One, passing more than one knot of tired revelers who were headed back to
vehicles that lined the front driveway of the resort.  The afternoon was
getting cooler, and nearly all the day's activities were over.  Reaching the
porch of Thea and Anthony's cabin, Jake knocked on the screen door.  His
ex-wife appeared in the doorway.  She'd changed clothes and touched up her
makeup.  On the couch behind her Jake noticed that her luggage was nearly
packed.

Clearly she and her lover were about ready to leave for the airport.

' "Is Charlie with you?"  Jake asked without preamble.  "No, I thought he
was with you."

"Have you spoken to him this afternoon?"   Thea looked annoyed and
defensive.   "No.   But I told you I would, Jake."

"I'm not concerned about that right now," he said.  "I'm trying to find him."
"Well, you'll have to look someplace else.  I'm not hiding him from you."
She lifted her chin.  "You're welcome to search if you like.  Come out, come
out, wherever you are, Charles," she called, turning her head first in one
direction, then the other.  "Daddy's here, and he thinks I've kidnapped
you..."

"Not funny, Thea."   Jake said.   "For once in your life, think of someone
besides yourself."

"Well, I told you, he's not here."

"Who's not here?"   Anthony said as he came through the bedroom door,
suitcase in hand.   "Charles," Thea said.   "His father's looking for him."
Jake leaned one hand against the door frame and stared down at his feet.   If
Charlie hadn't come to see his mother, then where was he?   A soft breeze
whispered across the porch, cooling the sweat that had begun to trickle down
the small of his back.   Movement at the corner of his vision made him turn
his head a fraction of an inch to the right.   An object lay on the raw, pine
flooring of the porch.   He bent to retrieve it.

Across his palm lay the blue ribbon Charlie had won in the tug-of-war.

"You said you hadn't seen him," Jake cut across Thea's explanation to
Anthony.  "This is the ribbon he won this afternoon.  He wanted to show it to
you."

"Well, he didn't," the woman replied.   "Damn it, Thea!   He was here."
"He wasn't!   Ask Anthony.   Although I don't suppose you'll believe him any
more than you believe me."   "He wasn't here," Anthony agreed.   But a moment
later, he seemed to rethink that answer and added,

"I guess he could have been, though."  "How?"  Jake demanded.

"The screen door's been open all afternoon.  He could have come up without us
knowing it.  We were on the couch... talking..."  Unfolding her tightly
crossed arms, Thea gasped, and one slim hand flew to her mouth.  Her gaze
went to Jake, to Anthony and back again.  "If he saw us while we were... if
he heard us" -- She broke off.  She looked stricken, and Jake felt the first
icy fingers of fear touch his spine.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"I need your help," Jake said.  He'd found Nora down at the spring, helping
the cleanup crew store away what was left of the day's concession food.  She
turned to look at him, packets of Ketchup clutched in one hand.  Either the
grim tone of his voice or the look on his face was enough to convince her
that he was deadly serious, because she tossed the handful of condiments onto
the table in front of her.

"What is it?"  she asked.  "Charlie's missing."  She didn't ask for details.
She pulled the apron she wore over her head and tossed it on the table with
the rest of the concession supplies.  "Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere I can think of.   I don't think he's on the property."   Jake
turned again to scan the area he'd already searched.

"Did you look in the rehab shed?"  Nora asked.  "That was one of the first
places I thought of."

"There are a couple of others around here he may have found during the past
few days.   Let's check them out."   They walked together in silence, past
the common areas where diehard participants of the day still played, along
the edge of Hideaway property where the woods began.   The maintenance shed
yielded nothing, nor did the ramshackle barn that had once housed a couple of
horses for the Hideaway guests to ride.   At the boathouse, they stumbled
across a passionate young couple, but no Charlie.   Sending the teenagers
away, Nora turned to Jake, biting her bottom Up thoughtfully.   "Do you think
he's run away?"   Jake drew a long, slow breath.   It was the same question
he'd been asking himself for the last thirty minutes.   He'd pressured Thea
into confessing what Charlie could possibly have heard at her cabin.   With
that abbreviated and chaste version of the conversation clear in his
head--and knowing it had probably been a lot worse than that--he still didn't
believe Charlie had run away.   No matter how hurt Charlie had been, the kid
was smarter than that.   He wouldn't take off in a part of the country he
didn't know.   None of his clothes were gone.   The backpack still sat in a
corner of the cabin's living room.   He had no money, and no resources to get
any.   Frankly, there was no one to run to.   Darlene White was the closest
thing to a friend he had, and Jake had seen her leave with her family twenty
minutes ago.   He shook his head.   "I suspect he's been hurt by what he
might have overheard at his mother's cabin, and he's gone someplace to cool
off and think things through."   "Then maybe you should leave him alone for a
while."   He thought of Thea's anxious, halting admission to him, the sly
enjoyment Anthony seemed to take as he watched her try to explain.   If the
boy had been there.   if he had seen one-tenth of Thea' s true self.   "I've
got to find him, Nora."

Jake stared off into the late-afternoon light, with its dreamy, lengthening
shadows.  "There's only about another hour of daylight left."  She started
off down the path.  "We can contact the county sheriffs office.  Have them
form a search party."

"He can't have gone far."   She stopped suddenly.   Her hand tugged on his
sleeve to bring him around to face her.   "No, he can't," she agreed, and he
saw the gleam of a new idea catch fire in her eyes.   "It's a long shot, but
there's one more place we can look--the glade where we set Marjorie free."
With Nora at the wheel, the Hideaway truck bounced off the rutted front
driveway that led from the resort and onto the asphalt.

To keep from sliding across the front seat, Jake made a grab for the
dashboard and tilted Nora a sideways glance when he saw her punch the
speedometer up immediately.  "I want to get there before dark," she
explained.  He watched the woods and wilderness stream past the window.  The
last remnants of a dying sun flickered between the trees, so that the scenery
became nothing more than a magic show of strobing light--green, gold, green,
gold.  Are you out there, Charlie?

Jake called silently.  Please.  Just give me a chance to make it better.  He
turned his head to look at Nora.  Her profile was unmarred, except for the
tiniest twinge of anxiety over her eyebrow.  Clearly sensing his scrutiny,
she slid her glance away from the road and gave him a small smile.  "He'll be
there," she said in a determined voice.

"I'll bet you a week's free stay at the Hideaway."

"And what if you're wrong?"   "I won't be."   Jake tried to take comfort,
but his senses felt entirely apart from him.   He was hardly aware of the
moment they left the main road and entered the gates of the national forest.
Nora slowed to comply with the park speed limit.   "How is your ex-wife
taking all this?"   she asked.   "I wouldn't know.   She and Anthony left for
the airport almost an hour ago."   She glanced at him sharply, disbelief in
her eyes.   "With her son missing?"   Jake found it in him to smile.

"Thea's maternal instincts have been dulled by all this newfound celebrity.
She's like a child with a new toy.  It makes her careless with people."

"Is that why you won't let her have custody of Charlie?"   He had to think a
moment just how much to tell her.   Nora was someone he felt he could trust
with the truth, but it was ugly, and not one he was particularly proud to
have been a part of.

"I was halfway around the world," he began, 'when I picked up a paper and saw
a picture taken at one of her parties.  Charlie was asleep in the background,
curled up on one of the couches.  I was so mad I called my attorney on the
spot, asked him to find out what the hell my kid was doing there.  " " What
did he find out?  " " He couldn't reach me for quite a while.  " Jake looked
down.  " That was the day Bobby and the bush crew were attacked, and I spent
the next couple of days at the hospital.

When that was.  over, I made arrangements to come home.  The first thing I
did was see Gregg about challenging our custody agreement.

That's when he told me he'd found witnesses who swore they'd been at the
party and seen Anthony offer drugs to Charlie.  " " Oh my God," Nora gasped.
" What could that man have been thinking?  " " I doubt if he was.  " He drew
a deep breath.  " Anyway, the threat of exposure was enough to get Thea to
back off a public fight.  " " What did Charlie think about all this?  " " He
doesn't even remember it.  It was three o'clock in the morning.  Thea planted
the idea in his head that I was taking her back to court just for spite, and
he's believed that ever since.  " They'd come to the end of the lane.  Ahead
lay the glade where they'd picnicked and fished and watched Marjorie regain
her freedom.

Nora cut the engine, and the sound of the stillness all around them took
over.  Jake felt his heart drop.  The boy wasn't here.  No one was.  Oh, God,
he thought.  Help me.  Tell me where I go from here.  And then, just at the
bend in the river, there was movement.  Charlie.  The radiance of the sunset
had caught the gleam of gold in his hair.  He sat on the sloping edge of the
riverbank, lost in thought, his back to them.  If he'd heard the truck's
arrival, he chose to ignore it.  With a sudden flush of relief, Jake exhaled
a broken laugh.  He looked at Nora quickly when she touched his sleeve.  The
glance they exchanged felt as warm and reviving as a kiss on a cold night.
"I told you he'd be here," Nora said with a wide grin of satisfaction.  "Now
go tell him it's time to come home."  all in all, it hadn't gone too badly,
Jake thought an hour later.  He heard the shower cut off, and a few minutes
later, Charlie emerged and went into his bedroom.  Jake finished making a
couple of sandwiches, slipped them onto paper plates and joined him there.
He watched Charlie pull on the expensive pajamas he insisted on wearing.  The
boy's body was lean and nearly hairless.  There was a darkening bruise along
his rib cage, and red scrapes across one knee.

The injuries, though slight, made him seem so vulnerable.

"I made you ham and cheese," Jake said, and placed the paper plate on the
bedside table.  "I'm not really hungry," Charlie replied.  His mouth lifted
in a small, valiant attempt at humor.  "Probably too many hot dogs this
afternoon."

"How about a glass of milk, then?"   "Dad, I'm all right.   Really."   "I
know."   The boy slid between the sheets on his bed, then drew air between
his teeth as his wounded knee touched the covers.   He pulled it up, tilting
his head at the reddened patch of skin.   "Do you want something for that?"
Jake asked.   "There's a first-aid kit in one of the drawers in the kitchen."
"Nah."   "Tell me something.   How did you get to the glade on your own?"
"I saw a couple of guys packing up their truck for the day.   There was a
campground parking sticker for the forest in their window, so I figured they
were probably headed back there.   I just wanted to be by myself for a while,
so when they weren't looking, I slipped in the back.   Once they pulled into
the campground, it was easy to hop out."   Excitement glittered in his eyes.
"Pretty cool, huh?"   "Pretty cool," Jake acknowledged.   "And if I ever
catch you doing something like that again, there'll be no Space Scow for a
year."   "I figured you'd say something like that," the boy groaned.   But
one corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

Jake dug his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, suddenly remembering
the blue ribbon.  He held it out to Charlie.  "I picked this up at your
mother's cabin.  I hope you'll sdll want to keep it."

"Sure," he said.  "Why wouldn't I?"  Jake sat down on the edge of the bed.
He handed the ribbon to his son.  With a shrug he said,

"Today was rough on you.  Maybe you don't need or want any reminders."

Charlie looked at the ribbon, then ran one finger down its satin smoothness.

"Some of today wasn't so bad.  I liked being with Darlene, and the boat race.
We did all right, huh?"

  "Better than all right,"

Jake agreed.  Charlie placed the ribbon on the bedside table, next to his
sandwich, then drew his arms up behind his head and was silent for a long
time.  The boy's eyes captured Jake's, froze him in place and made his heart
beat harder.  "I thought she needed me more than anyone else," he said
softly.  "But she doesn't need anyone.  Except maybe Anthony."

"Your mother loves you, Charlie.   It's just that she's the kind of person
who needs attention from a lot of people.   She's always been treated very
special.   By her parents.   Even by me at first.   But for years it's just
been you, looking after her.   And you've done a really good job of it."
"That didn't keep her from leaving."   "No," he had to agree.   "But she had
commitments to honor.

And until she comes back, I plan to honor mine to you.  " He leaned forward
to tuck the covers around his son, drawing his gaze again.  " I need you in
my life, Charlie," he said in a low ^ voice.  " I screwed up by staying away
so long, and I don't blame you for giving up on me.  But I'm trying hard to
earn a second chance.  Do you think that's possible for the two of us?  " The
boy was silent for a long time.  And then something in his eyes changed, and
with a smile full of fatigue and childish hope, he said,

"I guess we could give it a try."  forty-five minutes later he left Charlie
sound asleep.  He took a shower, letting the hottest water he could stand
steam away the day's punishment and fear.  Slipping into a fresh pair of
jeans, he picked up Charlie's damaged clothes and stuffed them into the
garbage along with the sandwich.  Tomorrow he and Charlie ought to go
shopping in town.  New T-shirts and shorts for both of them.  Maybe they'd
check out the rest of the weekend activities in the town square.  Tomorrow
he'd find Nora and thank her for helping him.  Restlessly he walked out onto
the front porch.  The night breeze was a cooling whisper against his bare
chest.

There were lights still on at the main lodge, and along the line of cabins
that sat on the opposite side were one or two cars belonging to guests.  The
season had evidently started for the Hideaway.  To his left he heard muted
movement.  Lights were on in the cabin Thea and.

Anthony had vacated, and behind the sheer curtains Jake caught a glimpse of
Nora.  What was she doing over there at this time of night, when everyone
else was settling in for the evening?  exhaling an annoyed sigh, Nora
squirted liquid cleaner on her sponge and attacked the soapy film that formed
a ring around the bathroom sink.  She would never, ever, buy a single La
Paloma product again as long as she lived.

Not mascara.  Not lipstick.  Not even the tiniest vial of perfume.  Any
company that could hire someone like Thea didn't deserve a cent of Nora's
hard-earned money.  In spite of their short stay, Thea and her lover had
managed to turn Cabin One upside down.  After a brief inspection, Nora had
discovered a chocolate stain on one of the living-room couch cushions, broken
dishes in the trash, a cigarette burn in the brand-new sheets, and finally,
residue from a spewed soda can all over the kitchen walls, cabinets and
countertop.  She only hoped that was the worst of it.  Short-term visitors
seldom had time to really make an impression on a place.  She should have
known Thea would be different.  No use grumbling, Nora supposed.  She had
most of what she needed in the housekeeping tray she always carried with her
to clean, and the rest of the night to work if that proved necessary.  It
wasn't as if she'd have any luck sleeping.  Not after today.  What a crazy,
mixed-up day it had been.  Charlie's disappearance had been frightening, of
course, giving her a few bad moments when there seemed to be nowhere else to
look for him.  The boat race had been good, silly fun, a chance to forget
about cash-flow problems and the possibility of courtroom battles.  But it
was the memory of Jake's kisses that still floated around in her head,
banging up against every sensible thought she'd ever had.  She caught a
glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror.  Color heightening her cheeks.
The gleam of some indefinable something twinkling in her eyes.  Oh, Lord,
suppose I'm head over heels in love with the guy?  She made a helpless sound
and shook her head.  I just won't be, that's all.  Get a grip, Holloway.

He can't make you fall in love with him.  Squirting more cleaner into the
bathtub, she scrubbed with renewed vigor.  A few minutes later, with the
bathroom finally spotless, she sighed and straightened from bending over the
tub.  She capped the cleaner, and when she looked up, Jake was there, leaning
against the bathroom door.  To have the object of her private thoughts
materialize in front of her, especially dressed in nothing but sneakers
and jeans and that gloriously naked male chest, made her heart jump.  "How
long have you been standing there?"  He grinned at her.  "Long enough to wish
my own tub needed scrubbing."

"Your place better not look like this, or I'm keeping your deposit."

Jake's eyebrows bunched over his nose.  "With as little time as we spend
indoors and a neat freak for a son?  Not hardly."

"How is he?"   "Sound asleep."   "And his attitude?"   "I think there's
hope."   She stripped off her work gloves and rinsed her hands in the sink.
Drying them on the towel she kept tucked in the back pocket of her shorts,
she smiled up at him.   "I'm glad."   "Me, too."

He paused, drawing a relaxed breath before continuing in a low voice, "And
I'm especially glad that I had you to help me get through today.

I think I was on the verge of losing it when you suggested the glade.  "

Under his scrutiny, Nora suddenly realized that the small bathroom seemed
even smaller, warmer.  She slapped the gloves into a compartment of her work
tray and came toward him.  He backed out of her way, into the living room.
He watched her a few moments while she arranged the bouquet of flowers she'd
brought from the lodge into a glass vase.

Pleased with the simple arrangement, she set the vase on the table in back of
the couch.  The scent of roses drifted lightly across the room.

"So what are you doing down here this late?"  Jake asked.  "Check-ins
tomorrow."  From the front pocket of her shorts she pulled out the
preregistration card she kept on all guests.  "The newly wedded Mr. and Mrs.
Derrick Beiderbaum," she read.  "From Tallahassee."  He motioned toward the
champagne bottle she'd brought along with the flowers.  "So the champagne
isn't your way of celebrating another housekeeping triumph?"

"Not unless I find anything else that's been dismantled or destroyed in
here."   Jake glanced around the room and shook his head.

"Typical of Thea.  She's fastidious in her appearance, but she lacks
organization in her personal life.  Can I help?"  She cocked her head at him.
"Are you serious?"

"I build bridges where they've never seen a cake of soap," he replied.
"I'm not afraid of a little dirt and grease."   She passed him a handful of
cleaning supplies and then placed the bottle of champagne on top of the stack
cradled in his hands.   "The champagne goes in the fridge, after it's been
wiped down inside."   As he moved to do her bidding, she added,

"Make sure the welcome card faces out."

"Got it."   He entered the kitchen, and a few moments later she heard him
exclaim,

"Damn!  What happened in here?"

"You want to resign?"   she called out with a laugh, realizing he'd
discovered the soda-can accident.   She heard him grumbling under his breath,
but he didn't come back into the living room.   In another instant she
recognized the sound of the refrigerator door opening.   She smiled.   It was
going to be a sticky mess to clean up, but at least, with Jake's help, she'd
have a head start.   She went into the master bedroom.   Stripping off the
bed covers, she placed the dirty sheets on the porch where she could grab
them on her way back to the lodge, then stretched fresh ones over the
mattress.   Honeymooners always got the deluxe treatment.   A small box of
chocolates went on the bedside table.   She filled a dish in the bathroom
with little bottles of bubble bath, lotion and oils.   Behind the door she
hung two terry-cloth robes--his and hers--on lightly scented, padded hangers.
In the living room, she dusted and polished, plumped pillows and swept
debris off the hearth in front of the fireplace.   The chocolate stain on the
couch cushion was more problematic.   Nothing in her bag of cleaning tricks
seemed to work.

Still, the cabin looked warm and cozy, the perfect place for the Beiderbaums
to spend the first few days of married life.  Jake appeared in the doorway.
He tossed the cleaning towel over one well-formed bare shoulder.  "Ready for
the white-glove inspection," he said.  She followed him back into the
kitchen, and her mouth gaped open.  The place was spotless, not just the
fridge, but the walls, cabinets, even the toaster gleamed.  There wasn't a
sign of its previous occupants anywhere.  "It's terrific," she told him,
touched.  "You wouldn't be looking for full-time work, would you?"

"Sorry.  You're out of luck.  Are we done yet?"

"Almost," she said, and began turning off the lights in the cabin.   "I want
to give the stain on the couch pillow one last chance to surrender."   Moving
to the couch, she placed the pillow across her thighs and sprayed the spot
with her strongest cleaner.   Jake joined her, settling back against the
cushions with a sigh.   His gaze traveled around the room.   "What do you
think?"   she asked.   "Will it pass muster?"   "The place looks great, Nora.
Stop worrying."   "I can't help it," she explained, still scrubbing at the
stain.   "I just like the Hideaway to be someplace special for newlyweds.   A
place they'll remember for the rest of their lives together."   "Ah," he said
with a knowing nod of understanding.

"No Beiderbaum wedding rings thrown down the drain."  She lifted the pillow
and slapped him across the chest with it.  "I told you, that was a freak
incident.  I'm not even sure those two people were really in love.  They
probably shouldn't have gotten married in the first place."

"Like half the population," he said sourly, then plucked the pillow and damp
cloth out of her hands.  "Let me try."  He rubbed at the stain.

His forehead creased as though he were trying to will the damage away, then
he lifted it to his nose to take a sniff.  "Good grief, it's chocolate!  Thea
will be out of a job if she keeps indulging her sweet tooth."  Her eyes
narrowed at him, taking in firm, aggressive lips that could kiss with such
exquisite tenderness.  "Don't you believe in love anymore?"

"After Thea?   I don't know."   His eyebrow lifted as the spot on the pillow
disappeared.   He held up the cushion so she could see, then tossed it back
in her lap.   "Do you?"

"I want to."  Nora said the words slowly, carefully.  "I try to picture
myself sometimes, living here alone, taking care of the place" until it falls
down around me.  " She shook her head.  " That isn't the way I always dreamed
it would be.  " " The mistress of a honeymoon haven without a husband," Jake
said in a low voice, and when she turned her head toward him she saw that the
hard, cynical look in his eyes had softened.  " Not much of a personal
recommendation.  " She grimaced, feeling suddenly uncomfortable seated this
close to him, as though her body was warming and tensing all at the same
time.  " I suppose if it turns out that way, I'll just have to try that much
harder to make the Hideaway successful.  " " You're already making it
successful, Nora," he said.  His smile started slowly, then curved teasingly.
" Your newlyweds are going to love their stay here.  " " Don't make fun.
This place is very special to me.  " " I think I know how you feel about it,"

he said.  "The Beiderbaums will sense it, too."

"Do you read tea leaves, as well?"   "I don't need to.   I just know.   The
Beiderbaums will still be keyed up from the ceremony, exhausted by the drive
here, but too excited to wait any longer."   His hand found hers curled upon
the pillow.   He lifted it, touching his lips lightly to the back of her
fingers.   His eyes never left hers, not for a glance, not for a second.

' "Derrick Beiderbaum is going to carry his lovely new wife..."  He halted,
arching an inquiring look her way.  "Lucinda," she supplied on a breathy
little note of pleasure.  Jake's lips were soft against her knuckles.
"Lucinda... across the threshold of this cabin.  She's going to admire the
flowers in the vase.  He's going to eye that champagne in the fridge and
wonder how many glasses it will take to calm her nerves."

"How many will it take?"   "That depends on how long he's known her.   He
doesn't want to frighten her."   "I'll bet she's not easily frightened."
"No.   Definitely not the shrinking-violet type,"

he said, and she watched his mouth quirk upward.  "So even though it's too
warm, she'll ask him to light a fire in the grate."

"Mmm, yes.   I like that, A romantic fire."   "They'll drink half the
champagne, sitting in front of it."   He had turned her hand over, and his
mouth was doing something delicious, something lovely to her palm.   She
swallowed hard, wanting to continue to play this game, and knowing the danger
of it.

"Only half the bottle?"  she asked.  "Maybe I should start buying half
magnums."  His lashes lifted.  With his head still down, he frowned at her, a
playful warning not to ruin his scenario.  "They'll finish it later.  They'll
be too busy looking deeply into each other's eyes."

Suddenly he tossed the pillow aside and leaned across the distance that
separated them, stopping just short of actually touching his lips to hers.
She felt his breath against her cheek, smelted the scent of the soap he'd
used.  Something took off in her system, like bottle rockets on the Fourth of
July.  Unnerved, she inhaled violently.  "He'll start to sweet-talk her," she
murmured slowly.  "Maybe even suggest they change into something more
comfortable."

"She'll giggle and get embarrassed," he added with a grin.   "But she'll
want to hear more."

"He seems very sure of himself."

"Can't help it.   She's on fire for him."   "She is?"   "Uh-huh."   He
teased her lips with his tongue.   "He's irresistible to her."   "But it's
been such an awfully long day," she managed to get out.   "Doesn't matter.
It's the moment they've both been waiting for."   The thought of his coming
nearer still sent a shiver through her, and when his tongue touched her lips
again, she could no more resist than she could stop breathing.   "Such a
long... long ... time," he whispered against the side of her mouth.

And finally, his lips took hers, and she fell deep into the kiss that was
waiting for her.  He was gentle at first; he seemed to sense her need.  Then
he began to use his mouth and tongue like a relentless weapon, roughly
stroking, plunging, claiming possession of her.  It was easy, oh it was so
easy to respond to that demand.  Suddenly he wrenched his lips from hers.
"Stop me now if that's what you want,"

he said.  His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he labored against some
emotion that savaged his senses.  "Much further and I can't promise that I'll
be able to.  I want you so much, Nora."  She remained trapped between his
hands, her mouth parted and the blood galloping through her veins.  Was she
crazy to allow this to happen?  She didn't know.  But right now, she knew
that only a fool would look beyond tomorrow, and wise and lonely was no way
to live out a life.  She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his
heartbeat sprint against her fingers.

Lifting her chin, she found his eyes.  "I don't want to stop," she told him
softly.

"I want you to kiss me again."  Desire flitted through his eyes.  With a
sound somewhere between a growl and a purr, he swept her high in his arms
suddenly, and she gave a little cry of surprise that was stilled on the next
heartbeat when he buried his face at her throat, nuzzling kisses along her
neck.  "Your honeymooners.  Derrick and Lucinda," he murmured against her
flesh.  "Will they like that bed in there?"

 "We should make sure," she said, her breath punctuated with little gasps.

"My thoughts exactly."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN the soft, steady drumming of rain on the cabin roof woke
him.  The bedroom was drowning in pools of night shadows, but of the objects
Jake could see--curtains, bureau, rocking chair--none looked familiar.  He
scowled, trying to get his bearings.  After a moment, his twisted swamp of a
brain clearly began to remember.  And when he did, his confused frown turned
into a smile.  He rolled his head to one side, encountering a mass of soft,
sweet-smelling hair.

Nora was snuggled against him, one arm draped across his chest.  Her breath
moved in and out in her sleep, gentle puffs of air that warmed his shoulder
and teased his senses.  He inched sideways until he could see her face in the
poor light filtering in from the outside porch lamp.  She looked tired--there
were smudges of exhaustion beneath her long lashes--but a small, peaceful
smile curved her lips.  He wanted to place his mouth against those slightly
swollen lips, pull her into his arms and feel her fevered response to him
again, but he didn't.

She deserved her rest.  They'd made love twice during the night--so wildly,
so wantonly, that even he was convinced that a third time was impossible for
now.  Later, he thought with a slow grin.  Later.  But not too much later.
She moved suddenly, frowning and sighing heavily.

"Izzie... drink your milk," she mumbled.  "Good for the baby..."

"Yes, ma'am," he said softly.   He hugged her closer, and evidently
satisfied, she burrowed deeper against him.   Wonderful Nora.   She tried so
hard to be everything to everybody.   Isabel, her brother.   The animals in
her rehab shed.   The Hideaway.   Even the people of Blue Devil Springs
demanded so much of her energy and attention.   It wasn't right or fair that
someone so good and decent should have had such pain.   He wanted to change
all that.   And he knew he could.   He could help her realize the dream of
having a child of her own to love.   All he had to do was drop his custody
suit.   He knew in his heart that she'd make the good parent for the baby.
Bobby's son would be fine and flourish in her care.   There could be no
argument to a judge about her worthiness as a mother.   There simply wasn't
one to make, and Jake knew that soon he'd have to call Gregg Sanstrom and
tell him that.   But his greater challenge was to find a way to convince Nora
that he loved her.   It seemed as though it should be so easy.   His
feelings for her were clear.

Irrefutable.  She was the first woman in his life that he was afraid to lose,
the first he knew his life would be empty without.  They could raise Bobby's
child together, as husband and wife.  But he could imagine saying those words
to her, then seeing the suspicion in her eyes.  She wouldn't believe him for
a minute.  She'd wonder whether he was asking her to marry him because that
was the only way he could get his hands on the baby.  He stared up at the
ceiling for a long time, watching while lightning fingered the edges of the
curtains.  He wouldn't say anything right away.  He didn't want to blow it.
He needed time to marshal the arguments to convince her.  A roll of distant
thunder rattled the windows and sent rain in a mad tattoo across the roof.
It was enough to stir Nora from sleep.  "What is it?"

she mumbled against his shoulder, her eyes still closed.  "The rain."

"Oh, hell... another leak?"

"No," he said with a smile for her confusion.   He placed a kiss against her
temple.   "Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"  He lifted his free arm to read the luminous dial of his
wristwatch.  "Nearly five o'clock."

"I should get up," she said with a sleepy yawn.   "There are things that
need to be done.   If Isabel isn't up to watching the desk today" She made a
move to rise, and he pulled her gently back down beside him.   "Relax, Nora.
No one's doing anything this time of day."   She was more awake now.   One
hand came up to play across his chest, and her lips placed a trio of kisses
against the wall of his rib cage.   "Not even us?"   she asked, her voice
full of drowsy regret.   Just like that, he wanted her again.   He groaned
and lifted her hand from its exploration of the hair that grew low across his
chest, replacing it on her sheet-covered breast.   "I'm trying to let you
sleep.   Don't push your luck and my control past its limits."   Her fingers
came right back, descending beneath the sheets to find his arousal.   Her
touch drew a harsh gasp from him, and she tilted her head back so that she
could find his face.   "Oops!   Too late."   He turned suddenly, so that they
were face-to- face.   In a gruff, passionate voice, he said,

"Damn it, Nora!  You're asking for it."  "Yes," she agreed with a husky laugh.

"Yes, I believe I am."  She planted a lush, juicy kiss against his mouth.  He
groaned an exaggerated complaint, but he was already pushing her back against
the pillows, ready to ease into her again as the last of his objections
dissolved.  "jake, wake up.  Jake."  Pinned beneath him, Nora grasped Jake's
shoulder and began shaking him in earnest.  He groaned and settled more
heavily against her.  The sun had pushed its way into the bedroom, and the
light was so flat it had drained away any vestige of last night's magic.
Panic knocked in her chest.  She'd slept too late.  She twisted around until
she could see the face of his watch.  Oh, God.  Nearly nine-thirty.  What had
she been thinking?  "Jake."

"Hmm?"   "Get up," she commanded him urgently, trying to wiggle out from
under his warm, wonderful weight.   "We have to go."   "Why?"   he muttered.
"Lucinda and Derrick."   "Who?"   "The Beiderbaums.   My newlyweds."   He
shot upright, the look of alarm in his eyes almost comical.   "They're here?"
She scooted out of bed, pushing hair out of her eyes as she tried to find
her clothes strewn all over the room.

"No, but they will be soon.  I've got to get this cabin back in order before
they arrive."  Jake flopped back against the mattress, dragging one arm over
his eyes to block the invading sunlight streaming past the curtains.  "Call
housekeeping," he mumbled.  "I am housekeeping," she pointed out with a laugh
as she slipped into her shorts and zoomed the zipper up.  Sitting on the side
of the bed, she pushed into her sneakers and began quickly lacing them up.
"Now, rise and shine."

 "We need to talk."

She turned and leaned back across the bed on one elbow.  Giving Jake a quick
kiss, she smiled at him.  "I know, and I want to.  But now is not a good
time.  I'm going to be running behind all day, and Charlie must surely be up
and wondering where you are by now.  This is what we get for being too...
energetic last night."  He took hold of both her forearms.  Pulling her
close, he gave her a lingering, tempting kiss.

"Charlie's like his mother.  He'd sleep until noon if I let him.  And I've
still got some ... energy left," he whispered encouragingly.  "Don't even
think it, Burdette," she said, and pulled away and off the bed before he
could urge her back.  "How about lunch?"

"I can't.   I promised I'd staff one of the booths in town between noon and
two."

"Dinner?"  he asked with a resigned sigh.  "I'll take you anywhere you want
to go.  We can have a nice, romantic meal and a long talk over a bottle of
expensive wine.  There's so much I want to say to you."  He sounded so
serious that Nora stopped tucking the hem of her blouse into her shorts and
swung her head to look at him.  His thick, dark hair was as tousled as hers,
but on him it looked sexy, inviting a woman's touch.  The smallest shadow of
a stub bled beard lay along his jawline, and she remembered how he had rasped
it against her flesh during the night--hard enough to make her blood tingle,
light enough to make her shiver.  A tightness corkscrewed into the pit of
her stomach, and there was nothing more she wanted in that moment than to
cross the room and let Jake work his magic.  That, she realized with a burst
of self-awareness, was where she had wanted to be for so long.  In Jake
Burdette's arms.  She knew herself well enough to know why she had allowed
last night to happen.  Casual flings and one-night stands had never been her
style, and if she'd given in to lusty teasing and erotic touches the night
before, that response had its foundation in only one thing: love.  She didn't
know when it had happened.  Perhaps when Jake had held and comforted her in
the glade.  He had not been her enemy that afternoon.  It didn't matter,
really.  She loved him.  "All right, Jake, it's a date," she said softly.
Trying for a more normal tone, she added,

"Now, get up and get moving, before I make the bed with you in it, and you
have to explain to the Beiderbaums how you got there."

nora leaned her elbows on the counter of the quilting booth, then settled her
chin in her hands as she people-watched the crowd that had come to enjoy the
activities in the town square.  Well, at least her shift was nearly over.  In
another few minutes someone would be coming to relieve her so she could
return to the Hideaway.  Where still more work awaited.  The day had been
difficult.  Straightening up the cabin where she and Jake had spent the
night.  Making sure the part-time help she'd hired for the summer understood
how to do towel service for stay overs and clean up after guests checked out.
Feeding the menagerie in the rehab shed.  When she got home, she'd have to
take up where she'd left off.  By now, Isabel was probably desperate for a
break from the registration desk.  Of course, there was tonight to look
forward to.  A candlelit dinner.  Wine.

Maybe a few kisses in the moonlight.  Who knew where that would lead?

Nora smiled, just thinking about the possibilities, and wished she could
conjure Jake up just by concentrating.  But he'd told her that he planned to
spend the day with Charlie, fishing in the glade and getting to know each
other better.  As glad as she was that their relationship seemed to be making
progress, she missed him already.  Coming back to earth from daydreams, Nora
straightened as she realized that John Forrester was making a beeline for the
quilting booth.  He was holding hands with Michelle Mitchell, the woman he'd
been dating for the past six months.

"What are you two up to?"  Nora asked.  "I'm your relief,"

Michelle replied, and with a quick kiss for John, she moved behind the
counter to join Nora.  "Business is slow, I'm afraid."  Nora turned over the
keys to the cash box and picked up her purse.  Quickly she went through a few
simple rules for Michelle's benefit, then left the booth.  John was still
standing at the counter, and he approached her as she dug into her purse for
the keys to the truck.

"Do you have a few minutes, Nora?"  he asked.  "I'd like to talk to you."
"Sure.  Walk with me, why don't you?"  They strode side by side through the
throng of people strolling around the square--a knot of kids enthralled by a
magician, a smattering of well- heeled collectors picking through antiques
spread across the grass, a family watching Mom's and Dad's caricatures being
done by Chief Quinn.  By all signs, the weekend was a success.  "I was going
to give you a call first thing in the morning," John said beside her.  "But
since I've run into you here, I figured we might as well touch base."

"Do you want to go to your office?"   "No, that's not necessary.   I know
you're probably eager to get home.   How's Isabel?"   "About the same.
She's really looking forward to all this being over."   "As I'm sure you
are."   They had reached the truck.   Instead of unlocking the vehicle, Nora
turned and leaned against the driver's door.   Something in John's demeanor
made her nervous.   She steeled herself for the worst and gave her attorney a
long, scrutinizing look.   "John, what is it?   Is something wrong?"   "I'm
not sure.   I got a call from Mr. Burdette's lawyer late yesterday.   A lot
of what he had to say was just showmanship, I believe.   He's very good at
trying to intimidate those of us who are less experienced."   He tried a
smile, but it failed in the face of her frowning concentration.   "One thing
he said did disturb me, though, and I think you should be aware of any
potential damage it might cause our case."   Her heart was galloping now, her
nerve endings treacherous.   "What is it?"   she asked, attempting to tame
the tremor in her voice.   "Just tell me."

"Nora, after you lost Peter and the baby, did you keep a diary of some sort?"
The question was completely unexpected.  She felt a little relieved, because
her mind had feared so much worse, but obviously John was worried about
something.  She tried to think back to that horrible time in her life, and
through the numb, racing pattern of her thoughts, she did remember the
journal.  "Yes, I kept one for a while.  It helped me get through the rough
patches."

"Do you still have it?"   "No, it served its purpose and was destroyed a
long time ago."   "Are you sure?"

"I gave it to Trip.  He burned it."  "Think very carefully about this.

Are you positive he burned it?  " The odd, gone-in-the-middle sensation was
back in her stomach.  " Why are you asking me about this?  " He stared at her
a moment, looking uncomfortable, as though trying to find the right way to
begin.  She was ready to scream by the time he drew a deep breath and took
her hand.  " Gregg SanstromBurdette's attorney--insinuated to me that a very
damaging personal journal, written by you, was going to be made available to
him.  So damaging that it would raise serious questions about your ability to
be a fit mother to Isabel's child.  He suggested we drop the case now, before
it's made public.  " He looked at her again, and waited, un speaking, until
she grasped the sense of what he was saying.  " That can't be," she cried.  "
No way.  " Then hardly able to form the question, she asked in a small voice.
" Do you think he's telling the truth?  " " It could be a bluff, I suppose.
" John's gaze turned wary.

"But how would he know of its existence?"  Everything in her screamed denial.
That journal was long gone, no more than ashes.  She searched her memory,
trying to recall if she'd actually seen Trip burn it.  What John implied was
almost more than she could bear.  No!  What he was suggesting was a mistake.
It had to be.  Looking at John's sweet, troubled features, she shook her
head.  "It's impossible.  Trip and I have had our differences lately, but he
would never betray me like that."  He flinched.  And what she saw in his face
drained away all the hope she had in her.  "Sanstrom didn't say this
information was coming from Trip," John told her in a quiet voice.  "He said
it had been supplied to him by Jake Burdette."  when nora pulled into the
front driveway of the Hideaway, she had no real comprehension of how she'd
gotten home.  She killed the engine and then continued to sit there, her body
too physically exhausted to move at the moment, her mind too hazy to sort
through what her next step should be.  Gripping the steering wheel, she
closed her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead touched the smooth
plastic.  She couldn't go inside yet, couldn't face Isabel and maybe some of
the Hideaway guests and try to pretend that everything was all right.
Instead, she tried to draw several calming, deep breaths into her lungs,
tried to clear her mind as she turned over the events that had brought her to
this sorry state.

What had she done to deserve this?  Dared to dream that adopting Isabel's
baby could bring a little happiness to herself?  Fallen too deeply in love to
recognize betrayal?  Her control faltered in that moment.  She thought her
heart would crack with loss.  Her throat thickened, and the tears came,
pouring down.  Disbelief.  Hurt.

Eventually, there were no more tears to shed.  Nora sniffed hard and wiped
her eyes with tissue she found in the glove compartment.  The rearview mirror
revealed a mess--swollen eyelids, blotchy cheeks, but somehow her limbs found
fresh strength.  She got out of the truck, knowing what she had to do.
Instead of heading up the front steps to the lodge, she turned in the
direction of Cabin Two.  Jake's rental car was gone, but that didn't matter.
She'd wait for him to return.

Movement and noise down by the spring caught her attention.  Several of the
Hideaway's guests had discovered the pool and were enjoying the afternoon on
the sunny bank.  She caught sight of Trip at the overlook deck, pulling down
the last of the streamers that had been used yesterday for the boat race, and
she almost detoured in that direction.

It had to be Trip who had given Jake the journal.  She suspected he had
struck back at her, angry at her unwillingness to change their financial
arrangement regarding the Hideaway.  But now was not the time to confront
him.  Not with so many guests within earshot.  Later would be soon enough.
She sat in one of the rocking chairs on the cabin's front porch.  Waiting.
Knowing that after she talked with Jake, none of the things she'd thought
possible this morning would come to pass.

She had no idea how long she sat there.  It could have been an hour, two.
Time had no meaning.  Eventually she picked out the sound of an engine coming
down the driveway, and a moment later, Jake's sports car pulled into the
space reserved for Cabin Two.  Together Jake and Charlie approached the front
steps, fishing gear in hand, laughing over some joke they'd shared.  They'd
been successful from the looks of it; a stringer of fish dangled from
Charlie's hand.  The boy appeared suntanned and happy.  There were flecks of
dirt on both their jeans and T-shirts, and on their face and arms a gloss of
drying sweat.  When he saw her seated in the rocking chair, Jake welcomed
her with a smile, but the moment they got close enough for him to see her
face, it disappeared.  She stood up, looking down at him from the porch.
"You have something that belongs to me," she said simply.  "I'd like to have
it back."  He gave her a wary, questioning glance, then turned his attention
to his son.  "Charlie, throw our catch in the kitchen sink.  Then take a
shower and get cleaned up.  I'll be in shortly."  When the boy was safely
inside and out of earshot, Jake came slowly up the steps.  He gave Nora his
full attention, his eyes searching for every nuance in her features.  "What
is it, Nora?

What's the matter?  " " I saw John Forrester in town today.  My attorney.  He
said he'd heard from yours.  In fact, the man tried to coerce him into
dropping the case.  He suggested that a journal I kept a long time ago might
be made public if I didn't.  " She watched the puzzled look on his face
change to one of disbelief.  His mouth opened as he started to say
something--perhaps in his own defense.  But one look at Nora and he was
instantly silenced.  He moved toward the porch railing and stood in silence,
gazing out at the springs.  Eventually, he spoke softly.  " Gregg
overstepped.  " She supposed a small part of her still hoped he would disavow
any knowledge of the journal, but clearly that wasn't the case.  Through
clenched teeth, she said,

"Then you're not going to deny that you have it."  He turned around, crossing
his arms over his chest.  "No, I don't have it, but I know where it is.
Gregg should never have said what he did."

"Of course not," she agreed with a shaky laugh.   "Not when you were so
close to seducing me into giving up the baby."   Her chin lifted.

"Isn't that right?"  His eyes narrowed.  "Is that what you think last night
was about?"  he asked in a low voice.  She returned his hard gaze without
fear, but as she did so images from last night began to form.

Jake's arms curving protectively around her, his fingers fanning against her
hips, the touch of his tongue teasing one nipple until she shivered.
Deliberately, she turned her mind's eye away from those memories.  "Trip told
you about the diary so you could use it against me," she stated, determined
to keep control of the conversation and herself.  "Yes, but I didn't want any
part of it.  I knew that from the start."

"Oh, please..."   There were several seconds of silence.   Then Jake said
quietly,

"I intended to tell you about it tonight."

"That's a rather convenient excuse, don't you think?   Considering I've just
caught you red handed."   Jake's jaw tightened.   "It's not an excuse,"

he said, his eyes traveling over her.  "It's the truth."

She shook her head.  "I don't believe you."

"I may be a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them.   I thought you'd
know that by now.   I thought we'd reached a certain level of trust between
us."

"Well, so did I," she replied coolly.  "I guess I was wrong."

"All right.   I can't see the sense in trying to convince you if your mind
is made up."   He straightened, coming toward her until he was so close she
could see the flecks of light in his eyes.   "Where do we go from here?"

She jerked away, eager to put distance between them.  "I'll fight you in
court for the baby if I have to, no matter what you think that book does for
your case."  She tossed her head defiantly at him.  In a voice dry as desert
wind, she said,

"Use it if you like.  Writing down my thoughts in that diary helped me get
through one of the worst times of my life, and there's nothing in it that I'm
ashamed of.  I won't let you blackmail me into quitting.  All I want now is
to have you leave.  I don't want you on Hideaway property."

"Nora..."   He had touched her arm, and she pulled away from his grasp as
though his fingers carried fire.   "No, Jake.   I want you out of my life.
I can't bear to see you here day after day--reminding me how completely
stupid I was to love you.   I'm going to get your bill ready."   She
swallowed, trying to get past the lump that suddenly seemed to be blocking
her throat.   "Because of Charlie, I won't ask you to find someplace else
tonight.   But first thing in the morning, I'd like you to go."   Before he
could say anything, Nora ran down the steps, heading for the main lodge.
She got no farther than fifty feet before he caught up with her.   He tugged
on her arm, dragging her back to face him again.   "Nora, wait.   We can't
let it end this way."   "Why?

Because this isn't the way you planned it?  Don't you ever get tired of
trying to manipulate people?  " His eyes turned dark, and when he spoke, his
voice was like winter silk.  " Did I manipulate you into loving me?  "

She shook her head in slow misery.  "I don't love you."

"That isn't what you said back there on the porch.   And it isn't what you
showed me last night."   "Last night, I..."   It was so useless to deny it.
She wasn't nearly a good enough actress to pull off such a pretense.   She
sighed and looked him directly in the eyes.   "All right.   You want some
kind of trophy to take with you out of this mess, I'll give it to you.

I allowed last night to happen because I thought I was in love with you.  I
thought there was a way for us to overcome anything, including what to do
about the baby.  But I was deluding myself.  It was just sex for you.  " She
corrected that statement with a quick, negative swipe of her head.  " No, it
was more than that.  It was a way you thought you could win, which is what
you've wanted all along.  "

There was no accusation in this, just a statement of fact.  "You're wrong,
Nora.  I've known for a long time that it's more than the baby who's kept me
here.  It's you.  Tell me how I can prove that to you."

Tears were thick in her voice when she answered, but she wouldn't let them
spill over.  "You can't.  It's too late.  Don't worry, I've learned a
valuable lesson, and I know I'll be stronger for it."  She gave him a grim
smile that was no more than a grimace.  She turned and left.  He didn't try
to stop her again.  There was nothing more to be said.  nora rose early the
next morning.  The night had brought nothing but sleepless misery.  After her
confrontation with Jake, she hadn't had the strength to deal with her
brother's traitorous behavior.  Both he and Isabel knew something was wrong,
but she refused to discuss it.

The tension at the dinner table had been thick, dangerous, and everyone had
gone to bed early.  Now, Nora steeled herself to see Jake one last time if
necessary.  There would be no ugly scenes, no tears, no denials or regrets
for what might have been.  It would be a clean, quick break.

They'd meet again in court, if that was what he wanted.  She couldn't manage
breakfast, but she swallowed a cup of strong coffee, hardly noticing that it
was too hot to drink.  She went out to the registration desk.  If Jake hadn't
come by the desk by the eleven o'clock check-out time, she'd slip the bill
she'd prepared late last night under his door.  But when she reached the
desk, she realized that he'd already been to the lodge.  On the counter sat a
thin book she recognized immediately as her diary, and on top of it lay an
envelope with her name neatly printed beneath the Hideaway logo.  She slit
the envelope open with her fingernail, feeling herself turn to stone all over
again.  A piece of paper fluttered out to land on the desk, and the
accompanying message on Hideaway letterhead was short and to the point:
Nora-- The enclosed check should cover my stay.  If there's anything left,
please spend it on the baby.  You were right all along--you will make the
better parent.  I'll take steps today to make sure nothing stands in the way
of that happening.  I wish you all the joys of motherhood.  J.  Nora stared
down at the note in her hand.  There was no sudden surge of elation.  What
was Jake up to now?  She knew how fatal it was to trust him.  So it surprised
her how much she wanted to.

Why couldn't she just hate him and be done with it?  The answer to that
question, however, came quickly.  Despite all the hurtful words she had
hurled at him yesterday, despite the suspicions she still harbored, she
loved him.  That was one reason she hadn't slept last night.  Yes, there had
been fear that the baby was lost to her, but more than that, she hadn't been
able to sleep because every time she closed her eyes, Jake was there.  Every
moment they'd shared together, every taste, every scent.  Branded on her mind
indelibly.  But he was gone now, and there was no point in giving in to
foolish speculations about what might have been.  Time to accept, once and
for all, that not every dream comes true.  If she was lucky, Jake would keep
his promise not to interfere in the adoption, and the baby would be hers.  If
not.  then she would fight.  She might have to accept the loss of them both
and go on.  She had done it before, and she could again.  Heartsick, but
resolved, Nora unlocked the cash drawer and placed Jake's check inside.

The note she folded in half and slipped inside the diary.  Later she would
destroy both.  She flipped through the small bin of folios that made up guest
registrations, pulling out the one for Cabin Two.  Jake's name and address in
Virginia stared back at her from the top of the card.  With deliberate care
she placed the Paid In Full stamp over the face of it.  Then she began
preparing the rest of the bills for today's checkouts, double- checking state
tax, tallying rent totals.  It was easier, safer, to concentrate on business.

Routine tasks would keep her from dwelling on | Jake's betrayal.  But the
entire time she worked, a | little voice inside her kept asking one question:
| When will this hollow feeling leave?  j CHAPTER FIFTEEN

September 1999 the airline reservations clerk handed Isabel her ticket, and
the girl turned toward Nora, offering a scared, hopeful smile.

"Well, I guess this is it," she said.  "I suppose so," Nora agreed.

Shifting the baby onto her hip, she captured Isabel in a quick hug.

"Knock 'em dead, Izzie."

"I can't believe this.   I'm really nervous about facing the internship
committee.   Giving birth was easier."   Not for me, Nora thought,
remembering how she'd stayed by Isabel's side through every moment of the
young woman's labor.   Nora had been a nervous wreck, though she'd never let
on to her friend how frightened she'd been for her that day three weeks ago.
Dr. Brewster spewing agitated orders: The nurses rushing about in organized
chaos.   Isabel weak and panting with pain.   But in the end, the delivery
had been quick and uncomplicated, and little Robert William had come into
the world screaming at the top of his lungs.   A perfect, beautiful little
boy.   Now, content and sound asleep, he lay cradled in his adoptive mother's
arms.   "Blakely-Forbes is lucky to get you," Nora told Isabel.   "The
committee will see right away that they made the right choice.   You're going
to be a great surgeon."   "I hope I'm half as good at being a doctor as you
are at being a mom."   "Do you think so?   Three weeks, and I'm still trying
to tell the difference between a hungry cry and a wet one."   "Something
tells me you'll get plenty of practice in both," Isabel said with a smile.
She leaned forward, pushing the blanket away from the baby's face so that she
could get a better look.   "I still don't see much of me in him.   Or Bobby
either, for that matter.   Actually, he looks a little like..."   The comment
fell away unfinished, and Isabel ducked her head.   "You don't have to avoid
saying his name," Nora told her.

"The baby looks a lot like Jake.  Even I have to admit that."  When Isabel
still looked uncomfortable, she added,

"It's all right.  I don't think about him much anymore."  That was so far
from the truth it was laughable, but Isabel didn't need to know that.  There
was silence then, just short of being awkward.  To fill it, Isabel said,

"I'm sorry, Nora.  I wish things had turned out differently.  There was such
a... a spark between the two of you.  I saw it right away."

"You did see something," Nora replied, trying for a light tone.   "But it
was nothing good."   She smiled down at the baby, running a finger gently
across the soft, silky cap of Robert's hair.   "At least Jake kept his
promise.   John called this morning while you were packing.   The petition to
adopt remains uncontested.   In a matter of days, Robert will legally be
mine."   "Did you ever let Jake know the baby's been born?"   "Yes.   I sent
him a birth announcement."   "Then maybe he'll want to see Robert someday."
Nora shook her head.   "I don't know, Iz.   I suspect he'd like to put
everything behind him.   I know I would."   "You wouldn't like to see him
again?   Maybe try to make it work this time?"   During a weak moment, Nora
had confessed to Isabel her feelings for Jake.   She hadn't told the girl
everything--that in a moment of foolish hope she'd added a personal note to
the announcement she'd sent Jake.   A suggestion that they arrange a visit.
It would be a chance for Jake to meet his nephew, she thought, and to know
that she was prepared to offer an olive branch.   She'd wanted that.   Needed
it, really, because now she knew in her heart that she'd been so wrong about
everything.   He'd known about her journalTrip had confessed that he'd shown
it to Jake--but he obviously hadn't given it to his attorney.   She'd wracked
her brain trying to come up with a logical reason for that, but nothing made
sense.   The kind of ruthlessness she'd accused him of didn't fit the man
she'd spent time with, the one who had agonized over his son's feelings, the
one who had been so gentle as he'd carried Marjorie.   The man who'd been so
gentle with her.   From the beginning he hadn't tried to hide his intentions.

He'd said openly that he would fight for his brother's child.  It mortified
her now to think of the angry words she had thrown at him.

She'd overreacted, and even as she'd tucked Robert's picture into the
announcement and sealed the envelope, she'd known that it was probably an
exercise in futility.  It was too late.  Their parting had been too terrible.
But hope was stubborn, and some dreams just refused to die.

A week later, when Jake's package arrived, the last of that dream withered.
In response to her note, he'd sent a photograph album.  Old and worn and
visited many times, from the looks of the cover.  When Nora had opened it,
she saw that page after page was filled with pictures of Bobby Burdette.
Baby pictures.  Childhood antics by a lake.  Teen years full of school
accomplishments.  It was the letter at the bottom of the box that Nora could
see in her mind even now.  She'd read it with shaking fingers, and Jake's
short message had remained engraved in her heart ever since.

Nora-- I'm relieved that the baby arrived safely, and pleased by the thought
of your happiness.  I think a meeting would be unwise.  However, I'm sending
you my mother's album.  I hope someday you'll share these pictures of Bobby
with his son.

J.

The olive branch had been rejected.  Politely, but firmly.  There was nothing
she could do to change the outcome.  She should never have tried.  "Do you
hate him?"  Isabel's question brought her out of those painful memories.
"No.  I wish I could."  That much was true, at least.  How much easier that
would have been than knowing that she'd had a shot at real love and blown it
so completely.  "Then it's not hopeless," Isabel said.  "I accused him of
terrible things," Nora told Is- abel.

"He'll never forgive me."

"Why is that so impossible to imagine?   You forgave Trip."   She had.   But
Trip had been almost in tears, begging her forgiveness.   And now, after
swearing that his betrayal had come only in the heat of anger, and after a
few months of flawless behavior around the Hideaway--where he did everything
from patching roofs to cleaning out the chimneys--he was gone again, earning
money somewhere in South America by taking tourists down white water rivers.
He was selfish.   Shallow.   Completely irresponsible.   Sooner or later
he'd lose patience or run out of money and the issue of what to do about the
Hideaway would come up again.   More arguments over the dinner table.   But
he was still her brother.   "I couldn't stay angry with Trip," Nora answered.
"He's the only family I have left other than Robert."   The airport speaker
called the latest arriving flights, and both women looked up, knowing the
time was drawing near to say goodbye.   Isabel picked up her tote bag and
gave Nora a kiss on the cheek.   Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but
her smile was optimistic.   "Goodbye, Nora.   I'll never be able to repay you
for what you've done for me.   I couldn't have gotten through any of it
without you."   Nora's own eyes began to fill.   "You'd better go.

Before we both end up bawling like a couple of kids.  " Isabel nodded,
quickly wiping away wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Before I go, I just want to give you one thing to think about."  She looked
at Robert again, then touched her finger to his pudgy little hand.  "Robert's
so lucky to have you for a mother.  But he could use a daddy, too.  I can
think of only one man who ever applied for that job, and if Jake was willing
to do it, don't you owe it to the baby and yourself to see if there's
anything left to the relationship?"  Nora gave Isabel a non-committal smile.
She already knew the answer to that question.  There was no relationship.
Jake had made that perfectly clear.  A meeting would be unwise .  unwise .
unwise.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

New Year's Eve, 1999 nora didn't go to bed early on New Year's Eve.

Robert William Holloway had other ideas.  She'd let him nap too long during
the day, and now, two hours before midnight, he was wide awake.

She fed him and changed him and sang him a silly lullaby.  She even reread
him Isabel's Christmas letter--full of excitement and stories of her success
at Blakely-Farber, but he just kept blinking up at her from his crib, like a
curious baby bird expecting to be entertained.  Nora frowned as a loud trio
of pops crackled from the direction of Blue Devil Springs--early revelers
getting a head start on the celebration.

But instead of being frightened by the noise, Robert seemed to find it
intriguing, and he gave her one of the smiles she could never resist.

"All right, my little angel," she said, drawing him gently into her arms.
"You want to welcome in the millennium?  Let's see what kind of show Blue
Devil Springs puts on for us."

Although there was probably no need for it tonight, she bundled him warmly
in blankets, then sat him in his portable car seat.  By the time she
finished, only his bright, inquisitive eyes were visible.

Satisfied, she headed out the front door of the lodge.  Larry appeared to
ingratiate himself against her leg, and the trio trooped down the steps to
the spring's observation deck.  The night was beautiful.

Unexpectedly warm, but flavored with the pungent scent of pine.  A nearly
full moon.  The light on the surface of the spring pool moved in mesmerizing
eddies.  She found a good spot on the bench to see the fireworks from town
over the trees, positioned Robert close beside her and settled down to wait.
Not a bad way to greet the new year.  And certainly different than the way
she'd ushered in last year.  So much could change in a mere twelve months.
She checked on Robert, making sure his head was still covered.  She had
discovered obstinacy in him already; he never failed to try to slip out of
his cap.  She had a feeling as the months went by he would become more and
more of a handful.  But all the work, all the worry was wonderful.
Motherhood was every terrific thing she had expected it to be, and so much
more.

She loved Robert more than she'd ever imagined possible.  She could go days
now without thinking of Jake.  Throwing herself into work and caring for the
baby made the days pass quickly.

Nights were the more difficult.  Robert was sleeping straight through now,
and those lonely hours in bed did nothing but remind her of how wonderful it
had felt to lie beside Jake, secure and warm in his arms.

She was eager to be beyond that longing for him.  Perhaps in time.  Larry
made a warning sound in his throat and rose from the deck, tail wagging.
Nora turned her head, saw someone coming down the steps and tried to hide a
grimace of disappointment.  Only two of the cabins were occupied tonight, and
she'd hoped not to have company.  And then her heart jumped as the newcomer
moved out from the shadows of the trees and into the moonlight.  He came
toward her with his hands buried in his jacket pockets, his collar turned up
to frame the face she saw every night in her dreams.  In dreams, and out of
them.  "Jake" -- The rest of her words failed her.  All she could do was sit
on the bench and wait for him to reach her.  He stopped directly in front of
her.

"Happy New Year, Nora."  She looked up at him, stunned.  "What are you doing
here?"

"I suppose I could say that curiosity got the best of me, that I came to see
the baby.   But that wouldn't be entirely true."

He glanced at Robert, then raised an eyebrow at her, asking for permission.
"Do you mind?"

"No.  No, go right ahead.  He's still awake."  He bent closer and carefully
unwrapped the blanket from around Robert's face.  "Hello, little guy," he
said softly.  Robert responded by taking hold of Jake's finger and pulling it
into his mouth.  Jake looked delighted, spent a few more moments smiling down
at his nephew and then flicked the child back into his warm cocoon.  He
straightened.  "He looks like a great kid, Nora."

"He is."   "Thank you for naming him after Bobby."   "It's a good, solid
name."   "Yes, it is."   He cocked his head at her.   "What's the matter?
You look pale."   "It's the moonlight."   "Do you think I've come back to try
to take him away from you?"   "No."   "Good, because I haven't.   Even if I
could."   "So why are you here?"   she asked again, thinking it was time to
do more than exchange banal pleasantries.

"From your note, I got the impression that you didn't want to have anything
to do with me."  He made a self-deprecating sound.  "I left here thinking
that the best thing I could do for you would be to get out of your life.  For
months I wouldn't allow myself to reconsider.  Then when I got your note,
your tone was so distant, I was afraid you were just doing what you thought
was best for the baby."

"What changed your mind?"   "Finally I couldn't stay away.   I began
thinking that it was a damn shame we never got to go out to dinner that
night, and I never got to say all the things I wanted to.   It might have
made all the difference in the world."   She looked up, a tightness in her
chest that made it difficult to draw breath.   "Why?   What did you want to
say?"   He moved to sit beside her on the bench.   The moonlight gave her no
clue to his mood, but she sensed a sudden tension in him.   "I wanted to say
that I'd been acting like a jerk about the baby," he began quietly, his tone
absolutely serious.   "Making your life miserable because of a lot of stupid
guilt I was carrying around over Bobby's death.   I was the one who sent him
out that day to check up on the crew."   He sighed heavily.   "And I was
going to tell you that I wouldn't stand in your way any longer, that I had
absolute faith in your ability to raise my brother's child."   "You were?"
"Yes."   "I'm sorry.   I should have given you a better chance to explain.
I never wanted us to end up enemies."   "That's good.   Because it's awfully
hard to be enemies with the person you want to marry."

Nora had to swallow twice before she could find her voice.  "What?"

"After we got the business of the baby's future settled, I intended to ask
you to marry me."

"Jake, I" -- Nora's voice broke.   He held up a forestalling hand.   "Wait,
I'm not finished.   I think you owe it to me to hear the rest, the best
argument I've got for the two of us getting married."   "Which is..."   "I
love you, Nora," he said, taking her hand between his.   "I've been miserable
without you.   I know there's no reason for you to think I'm telling the
truth here, but I'm asking you to take it on faith."   His eyes looked
straight into hers.   Beneath his warm regard, her heart hit the roof of her
mouth.   The tension that had haunted her own body flowed from her like a
fleeing ghost.   She smiled at him, knowing she was going to say the words
she'd been longing to utter.   "I love you, Jake.   Much as I love
Robert--and I'm crazy about him--I've missed you so much."   She touched her
palm to the side of his face.   "I need you, Jake.   I don't want to face the
new year without you."   "You don't have to, sweetheart," he replied, taking
her hand to lay a kiss against her palm.   "The Hideaway is the first place
that's ever felt like home to me.   I'm strong and I'm not afraid to get my
hands dirty.   Let me be the one to help you here."

He paused a moment and continued.  "I assume Trip's still in the picture,
pushing you to sell" " She nodded slowly as his words started to sink in.  "
South America for now.  But he'll be back, eager to talk me into giving him
his way.  " " So let's do it.  I can buy out Trip's share of the place.  He
gets what he wants, and you can turn the Hideaway into anything you've got a
mind to.  Just so long as I get to help you do it.  You don't ever need to
manage on your own again, Nora.  " " You're serious, aren't you?  " " I've
never been more certain of anything in my life.  What do you say?  A new
baby.  A new husband.  New hope for your dream here at the Hideaway.  Can you
think of a better way to start the millennium?  " She couldn't, and to make
sure he understood that, she brushed her lips against his tenderly, with just
a touch of impatience.  " The fireworks should be starting soon," she
murmured.  " Feels like they already have," he breathed against her lips.
And then suddenly, he broke away and stood up.  " Oh, hell--Charlie.  I
forgot all about him.  " Nora rose as well.  " Where is he?  " " Still asleep
in the car, I hope.  He sulked all the way from the airport when I told him
he couldn't help convince you to marry me.

Seems he thinks it's a great idea, too.  " She curled against his side.

"Go get him.  We can watch the fireworks together, like a family.  Then
you'll check in.  Into the lodge, of course."  He pulled her into his arms.
His teeth flashed as he grinned down at her.  "I know I was only there one
night, but I'm kind of partial to Cabin Two-- lots of fond memories."

"Not available," she said, shaking her head.   And then, in a delighted
afterthought, she added,

"But guess who's staying there?"

"Not Derrick and Lucinda?"  "No.  Better.  Becky and Harold Fuller."

"Who?"  She brought her hand up, wiggling her fingers in front of him.

"My wedding-ringdown the-drain couple."  He laughed in surprise, and the
sound of it was just the way she remembered in her dreams.  Rich and sexy.
"How did that happen?"  he asked.  "I sent Becky the ring.

She talked to Harold.  Next thing you know they got remarried.  Now they're
back for a second honeymoon.  " " Good for them!  " Jake exclaimed.  He
lifted her chin with one finger and looked at her with eyes that were
suddenly serious, full of moonlight.  " If it's true love, it's worth
fighting for.  " " We should make that the Hideaway's new logo," Nora
suggested softly.  There was a skittering crunch of falling pebbles from the
darkened springs pathway, and Jake tilted his head in that direction.  With a
sound that was part sigh, part laugh, he called out,

"All right, Charlie, I know you're there.  Come on down and help us bring in
the new year."  The boy materialized out of the shadows cautiously, his
thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans.  "Everything okay.

Dad?  " Jake nodded, pulling Nora even closer against him.  " She said yes.
" He glanced down at her, his eyebrows arched.  " Didn't you?  "

"Yes," she said and wrapped her arms around him.  "Oh, yes."  Even in the
pale moonlight, she could see Charlie's broad grin.  "Cool," he replied.
Catching sight of Robert, he bent to let the baby clutch the tip of one
finger.  "Hey, this must be Robbie.  I'm going to be your big brother.
Okay?"  She watched Charlie entice a silly smile from the baby.  He's going
to be so good with Robert, she thought, and then she couldn't think at all
because Jake bent his head and placed a nibbling line of kisses against the
nerve-rich flesh at the base of her throat.

Heat flooded her veins, making her feel drowsy, as thought she was living the
dream she'd imagined for so long.  She closed her eyes, only to open them
again when a thundering boom from town announced the first fireworks.  "Look,
Robbie," Charlie said in an excited voice.  "Those are fireworks.  Aren't
they pretty?"  Nora turned her head to glimpse a constellation of livid red,
white and blue sparks thrown up against the night sky.  She curled against
Jake's chest.  "Can you believe it?"  she asked softly.  "It's the year
2000."  Jake didn't even notice.  He was too busy kissing her again.