For Her Son's Love

“Don’t be discouraged, Daniel,” he said quietly. “Not everyone gets it.”

At Daniel’s age, he’d been partial to using the roof of the garden shed as a launch pad for flying lessons. No sense giving the kid any ideas, though.

Daniel gifted him with a smile, revealing a gap where one of his front teeth should have been.

“Let’s make sure you’re good to go.” Andrew checked the chain one more time.

“Here comes Hallie. All she wants to do is talk on the phone. I think she’s one of the bad guys,” the boy confided in a whisper.

Andrew’s lips twitched. “Don’t be too hard on her—she’s just a civilian. Your mom and dad wouldn’t hire one of them to take care of you during the day.”

“It’s just me and Mom,” Daniel said matter-of-factly as he hopped back on his bike, pushing his feet against the concrete to propel himself forward. Probably to intercept the sitter, who marched toward them. “I gotta go.”

It’s just me and Mom.

Andrew could relate to that, too. Even though his parents had stayed together while Andrew was growing up, his father had never really been there. Not when it mattered. Pursuing the Noble legacy—making money—had crowded out everything else in Theodore Noble’s life.

When Andrew was thirteen, his father had worked his way into a fatal heart attack, leaving behind business associates instead of friends…and a family who grieved his passing, not only because they were going to miss him but because they’d never really known him in the first place.

When Andrew had turned eighteen, the terms of his father’s will had opened the valve to his trust fund.

And he’d started a new legacy.

Chapter Three

“Are you sure you’re all right? Hallie said you took a pretty good spill.” Miranda’s fingers ran over her son’s bony shoulders, down his arms and then altered their course to tickle his ribs.

“Mom!” Daniel giggled and squirmed away, almost falling from his perch on one of the stools at the counter.

“I’m sure it’s nothing a sundae won’t cure. Isn’t that right, Danny Boy?” With a flourish, Isaac presented an old-fashioned soda glass filled with vanilla ice cream. A cloud of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry topped it off.

“Can I have it, Mom?” Daniel’s eyes sparkled and Miranda nodded. She knew better than to protest. Both Isaac and Sandra loved to spoil Daniel and she let them, even if it was close to dinnertime.

“Daniel, you keep Isaac company for a few minutes. I’ve got one more table to take care of and then we can go to the park.”

“Okay.” Daniel dug in with his spoon, using it to tunnel toward the rich pocket of hot fudge visible at the bottom of the glass.

Miranda fisted her hands in the pockets of her apron to stop them from shaking and went into the kitchen. Sandra stood at the island, deftly cutting up the colorful assortment of vegetables that went into her famous chicken pot pie. She smiled when she saw Miranda.

“Did Dr. Tubman administer the correct dose of hot fudge?”

Miranda felt tears sting the backs of her eyes and blinked them away before Sandra noticed.

“Isaac knows that ice cream cures just about everything that ails a seven-year-old boy.”

Sandra paused to study her. Miranda held her breath and met the older woman’s gaze straight on. Not that a show of confidence would fool Sandra. She had inner radar that immediately picked up any signs of distress and right now Miranda could tell it had moved to red alert.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Sandra asked softly. “You look a little upset.”

Miranda hesitated. She never wanted to burden her employer with her problems. Even if a picture of Sandra Lange appeared in the dictionary next to the word nurturer.

Over the past four years, Sandra had continually reached out to her in friendship while Miranda did her best to keep their relationship strictly that of employer and employee. It wasn’t easy. There’d been times Miranda had wanted to fall into Sandra’s plump arms and howl like a baby, knowing the older woman understood what it was like to have to live with the consequences of your mistakes. What it felt like to have God pull the rug out from under you.

As a young woman, Sandra had fallen in love with the wrong man, too. He’d deceived her and taken their infant daughter away. Even though Ross Van Zandt, the private investigator Sandra had hired, had discovered Kelly Young was her child, she’d been cheated out of thirty-four years with her. But somehow Sandra refused to dwell on those lost years—she only counted every minute she had with Kelly now as precious.

During that same time, Miranda had watched Sandra fight breast cancer and come out victorious. The effects of chemo had ravaged Sandra’s body but never her faith. In fact, the battle with cancer had somehow seemed to strengthen her relationship with God. That was what Miranda couldn’t understand. Her own experience with God hadn’t been like that at all.

She’d accepted Christ as a teenager at a youth event in her hometown and over the next few years, her faith had slowly taken root. Until Lorraine and Tom had been killed in a car accident. Losing her older sister and brother-in-law one New Year’s Eve to a drunk driver had tipped her world upside down. So had becoming a single parent. And she hadn’t known what to hold on to.

According to her pastor, she was supposed to cling to God, but He wasn’t flesh and blood. God couldn’t comfort Daniel when he cried for his parents. Or walk him around the room when he was sick with the flu. God couldn’t sit down and have a cup of coffee with her and ask her about her day.

But Hal Stevens could.

She’d turned to Hal for strength. For love. To ease the loneliness that crept into her days. She’d had no idea he would begin to turn the qualities she’d been drawn to into weapons.

Which was why, when it came right down to it, she couldn’t confide in Sandra. It was pointless. No one could rescue her. No one could change her past. God wouldn’t waste His time on someone who’d messed up the way she had.

“Miranda?” Sandra’s voice gently drew her back to reality, nudging her away from the shadowy path her memories always took her down.

“Just a little glitch.” Miranda realized she needed to put Sandra’s mind at ease so she deliberately kept her voice light. “When Hallie dropped Daniel off, she reminded me that she has gymnastics camp next week. I don’t remember her mentioning it before but she insists she did. Either way, I’ll have to find someone else to watch him.”

Miranda didn’t bring up the fact that she had no idea who she could get to take care of Daniel on such short notice. Or that she was a little frustrated with Daniel’s babysitter. When she’d interviewed her, the young teen had seemed enthusiastic about earning some spending money. Miranda had assumed Hallie’s enthusiasm would extend to what she was doing to earn the money, which was take care of a quiet, good-natured little boy for four to five hours during the day. But judging from innocent comments Daniel had made lately, it sounded as if Hallie had a lot of friends. And an unlimited number of cell-phone minutes.

If Miranda couldn’t be with Daniel all the time, she needed to have confidence in the person who was. And she wasn’t sure, anymore, that it was Hallie.

Sandra wiped her hands on a towel and closed her eyes, humming one of the praise songs she enjoyed listening to while they worked. Miranda knew Sandra wasn’t ignoring her—she was praying.

The stab of envy she felt surprised her. She wanted that kind of peace. The kind of peace that made a person smile even if everything around her was falling apart.

Sandra’s eyes popped open and the look on her face made Miranda wonder if God really had said something to her. “I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Miranda asked cautiously, not sure if she should trust the sparkle in Sandra’s eyes.

“Sonshine Camp is next week.” She said the words confidently, as if Miranda was supposed to know what she was talking about.

She let her confusion show. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“At church. It’s from eight to noon. Daniel could come to work with you for an hour and then go over to the church. When it’s finished, he can come back and have lunch here at the diner. Your shift ends at one, so it’ll work out perfectly.”

Miranda should have known Sandra’s solution would have something to do with Chestnut Grove Community Church. An active member of the congregation, Sandra counted Reverend Fraser and his wife, Naomi, as close friends. She frequently referred to the people who attended Chestnut Grove Community as “the family God gave her.”

“We don’t belong to your church.” Miranda voiced the first excuse she could come up with.

“It isn’t just for our members—it’s for the entire community. Haven’t you seen the flyers up everywhere? Pastor Caleb’s youth group is organizing it this year. Anne has been working on craft projects and some of the men are volunteering to help with games. I think they’re even going to play baseball.”

Miranda wavered. Daniel loved baseball. He didn’t play on a youth league but he collected cards and had memorized a mind-boggling number of batting averages and player statistics.

“How much does it cost?” She hadn’t budgeted for camp and an entire week would probably be more than she could afford. Especially when Daniel needed new clothes.