The Prodigal Cousin

He refused to back down. He should have come alone, but since the accident, he’d feared losing his girls every time they left his sight. Besides, once Tamsin had snooped through his papers, she’d known the worst.

“Honey, I have no other family. If something happened to me—” He broke off, and Tamsin swallowed hard. They’d both learned death arrived in an unsuspecting second. “If something happened to me, you and Nina would be put in state care. If Eliza regrets a decision she made at sixteen, you’ll gain more family than either of us could imagine.”

“We have friends in Savannah, Dad.”

Wrong. He’d cultivated colleagues. Fiona had made friends. He’d been so intent on perfecting procedures to keep a sick heart alive, he’d managed to forget that humans needed less tangible sustenance, too.

“I don’t know anyone well enough to trust them with your future.”

She twisted her sweet young face into a scowl of contempt. “But you figure we’ll be able to trust strangers who suddenly find out we exist?”

“I trust blood,” he said, unable to explain that his adoptive mother had loved him but had held back, still longing for a child of her own. He’d only known such ties with Tamsin and Nina, and nothing short of death could ever part him from them. “You’re predisposed to love the people who share your blood.”

“No, you are. Other adopted kids get along just fine without launching a sneak attack on the people who didn’t want them.”

“You’re talking out of pride, which I can’t afford. I need to give you and Nina someone else to depend on.”

“These people treat strangers like family. They deserve better.”

“I’m not too proud of myself right now, but nothing changes our situation.” His smile hurt. “If Eliza doesn’t want us, we’ll go home, and I’ll pray we stumble across friends who’d make good substitute parents.”

“Only you would look at it that way. We might as well take out personal ads.”

“What do you know about personal ads?” He kissed her head. Stubbornly, she slid away. She wanted her mom. No one else would do.

“I’m no kid, you know.”

Since her mother’s death she’d tried to separate herself, as if she could lose him or Nina with less grief if she stopped caring about them. Sam figured that if he kept proving he’d love her no matter what, she’d eventually realize that loving was still safe. He started toward his room, and she turned off the light before he reached their adjoining door.

“’Night, Tamsin. I love you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He left her door open about an inch, too, and she didn’t shut it.

The next morning he woke the girls in time for a late breakfast. Tamsin claimed she wasn’t hungry. To her disgust, he checked her for a temperature, but let her go back to sleep.

After a quick bath, he wrestled Nina’s long blond hair into a sad-looking braid. Fortunately, she was still too young to care that his surgeon’s hands were useless for styling hair. Unless she was too grown-up at five to hurt his feelings. He kissed her cheek.

“Hungry?”

She nodded, head-butting him, and he stood, eyes watering as he rubbed his nose.

“Tamsin, we’ll bring ya something.” Nina tore out of the room and down the hall ahead of him. He caught her before she reached the stairs.

“The dining room, today,” he said. “We have to be invited to use the kitchen.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

At the bottom, they found Eliza carrying a heavy tray from the kitchen. Sam took it.

“Thanks.” She inspected them, clearly looking for his older daughter. “Where’s Tamsin?”

“She chose sleep over breakfast.”

“Molly was the same at her age. Trout or the breakfast platter for you two?” She beamed at Nina. “We have plenty.”

“Two slices of bacon and a scrambled egg for Nina,” Sam said, “and I’d like the trout again.”

“Great.” She pointed at a couple just inside the room. A baby lay in a stroller next to the blond woman. “The tray goes to them. Sophie, Ian, this is Sam Lockwood and his daughter Nina.”

The man stood, reaching for the tray as he nodded a greeting. Sophie shook Sam’s hand and then patted Nina’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” she said. “Aunt Eliza mentioned you’d checked in yesterday evening. First time in the Smokies?”

“Yeah, so we’re going for a long walk if my sister wakes up.” Nina had a future as a society page columnist. “Can I look at your baby?”

“Sure. Her name is Chloe.” Sophie pulled back the blankets so Nina could examine the infant.

“What brings you here?” Ian asked. “We’re out of the way.”

“A brochure.” A lie this late seemed pointless, but Eliza might need the cover if she sent them home. “One of my patients had it, and I thought my daughters might enjoy the mountains.”

“You’re a doctor?” Ian glanced at Sophie, who was completely absorbed in Nina and the pink-swathed baby. “So is my wife. An OB-GYN.”

“I’m a cardiologist,” Sam said.

Sophie looked up with interest. “You wouldn’t be looking for a change of pace?”

He smiled blandly, not understanding.

“She’s always thinking of work.” Ian grimaced. “Sophie and a few other physicians from the surrounding area are opening a clinic in town and they’re still scouting for staff.”

His wife looked regretful. “I don’t suppose we’d have the facilities you’re used to.”

Sam didn’t suppose Tamsin would survive even talk of a permanent move. She’d made him promise not to think of it, and Nina, coming in on the tail end of that battle, had chimed in, though she’d really had no clue what they were arguing about. “I’m settled in Savannah.”

“I love Savannah.” Eliza stopped herself before she said more, but Sam pressed his advantage.

“You’ve been there often?”

Her blush was as good as a confession. “I grew up there, but when I graduated from college in Knoxville, I answered an ad for a teacher’s position here. In fact, I used to teach kindergarten and first grade in our little school, just like Molly. Then I met Patrick, and he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Sam tried to laugh with the others, but her lighthearted recovery hurt a little. He hadn’t tempted her to keep him. His children might not tempt her to want them, either.

“What’s the big girl doing out there?” Nina pointed at Molly, who was out in the garden with her back to the window, leaning over a tall, gray tank.

“Blowing up balloons.” Eliza smoothed Nina’s braid with her palm, unconsciously trying to tidy it. “She needs them for school today.”