Kitabı oku: «After the Storm»

Praise for
LENORA WORTH

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

—Romantic Times on The Wedding Quilt

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

—Romantic Times on Logan’s Child

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

—Romantic Times on I’ll Be Home for Christmas

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

—Romantic Times on Wedding at Wildwood

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

—Romantic Times on His Brother’s Wife

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

—Romantic Times on One Golden Christmas

After the Storm
Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In Memory of Sandra Canfield

and Suzannah Davis.

I miss you both so much.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter One

H e was lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or had she said the second one on the right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always leave a light burning.

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

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

She was in trouble.

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

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

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

Lonely.

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

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

And besides, she didn’t like strangers.

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

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

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

Tomorrow was Easter Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Power outages,” Jared thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone was hurt.

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

“Hello? Where are you?”

“In…here.”

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

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

The room with the single lamplight.

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

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

“Down…here.”

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

And then he saw her.

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

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

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

Her rounded, very pregnant stomach.

“What—”

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

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Ever lived on a farm?”

“No. I grew up in Atlanta.”

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

“North of the city. Buckhead.”

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

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

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

“No. I’m…not married.”

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

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

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

“Okay, then. How are you right now?”

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

“You mean, a contraction?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a car.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t seem to know her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re doing good for a beginner.”

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

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

“What about…where’s your husband?”

She stilled. “He’s…dead.”

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

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

“Any other relatives nearby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harps.”

“Harps?”

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

Pain caused that word to come out in a scream.

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

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

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

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

But then, so was she.

It had all been over in a matter of minutes.

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

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

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

And on Easter morning at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the sound of a tiny miracle.

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

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

That had been over two hours ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…he always had questions.

“You did a fine job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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