The Guardian's Honor

“You’re not exactly a great judge of men, now, are you?”

She’d heard that so often that it no longer had the power to hurt. Maybe she was too easily taken in, as Grandpa believed, but she didn’t think she was wrong about Adam Bodine.

She also wasn’t wrong about her grandfather’s reaction to the Bodine name. And their visitor had seemed convinced that he had the right man. But how could Grandpa have a past identity that she knew nothing about?

“Bodine,” she said casually, as if it meant nothing at all. “Did you ever hear anything about that family?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, but his hand tensed on the glass. “You that anxious to find yourself a new family? Is that it?”

“No, of course not, Grandpa.” She reached out to pat his arm, but he pulled it away, nursing his grievance.

Not a new family. No. She’d just like to have back the family she’d once had. There’d been a time when she and Grandpa and Grandma were everything to each other, but that was gone forever. Now Jamie was the only one who loved her unconditionally.

Thinking of him made her glance at the calendar. “Jamie’s appointment with Dr. Greener is Thursday. Do you want to go along to town with us?”

“Greener.” Grandpa snorted. “Man’s no good at all. You oughta take the boy up to Atlanta or someplace where they can fix him.”

If it was possible. The spina bifida Jamie had been born with had necessitated what seemed like an endless series of visits to doctors, specialists, surgeons. After the last surgery, the doctor had been optimistic. Maybe another operation would do it. Maybe Jamie could get rid of the braces for good. But that took money—money she didn’t have and didn’t see any prospect of getting.

“I wish I could.” Her throat had tightened so much that the words came out in a whisper.

“Maybe if I sold the house…”

“Then where would we live?” They’d been over this so many times, and the answer always came out the same. She patted his hand quickly, before he could draw away. “Dr. Greener does his best. We’ll be all right.” She stood. “I’d better make sure Jamie’s not in there playing with his cars instead of sleeping.”

She went quickly back to Jamie’s bedroom, thankful that the old house had enough rooms to sleep all of them on the first floor, so she could be within easy reach of Grandpa and Jamie if they needed her in the night. She eased the door open and crossed to the bed.

Jamie slept curled up on his side, one hand still wrapped around the old metal car Grandpa had found for him in the attic. His long eyelashes made crescents against the delicate shadows under his eyes.

Did Jamie run in his dreams? Did he splash in the creek and chase fireflies in the dusk?

Such small things to be able to give a child, but she couldn’t even manage that much.

But if Grandpa was hiding the truth, if he really was one of the Charleston Bodines, what then? Hope hurt, coming at her unexpectedly. If the Bodines really were family, if they cared enough to search out a long-lost relative, maybe they’d be people who wanted to help a child like Jamie if they knew he was kin.

Or maybe there was an inheritance owed to Grandpa all these years. You heard about such things sometimes, folks coming into money they hadn’t expected.

It was a possibility she couldn’t let slip away. Adam Bodine hadn’t looked like a man who’d give up easily. She’d have to hope she was right about that.

Chapter Two

Adam lingered in the coffee shop at the motel the morning after his encounter with the Hawkins family. It was a good thirty miles from their house, but the closest he could find. Frowning, he stared at the cooling coffee in front of him.

What was his next step? His gut instinct said he was right about this. Theodore Hawkins was Ned Bodine. He had to be, or why had he reacted the way he had?

But it went beyond that. He couldn’t explain it, but when he’d seen the man, he’d known. Maybe it was true that blood called out to blood. The Bodine strain ran strong. He’d looked in that man’s eyes, and he’d seen his grandfather there.

But if Ned Bodine refused to be found…

“Mr. Bodine?”

He glanced up and then shot to his feet at the sight of Hawkins’s granddaughter. No, stepgranddaughter. She must have guessed he’d be at the only motel this small town boasted.

“Mrs. Norwood. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Especially not after the way he’d reacted when he’d seen her disabled son. He’d kicked himself all the way back to the motel, but it had been unavoidable. He’d looked at her and the boy and seen the other mother and son, felt the pain…

“I thought we should talk.” Her gaze was wary, maybe even a little antagonistic. But at least she was here. The door wasn’t entirely closed.

“Please, sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

“I’m not sure what good it will do. My grandfather is a very stubborn man.”

He was tempted to say it ran in the family, but that was presuming too much. Instead he signaled for the server. “You’ll have something to eat, won’t you?”

“No. Well, just coffee.”

While the server brought cups and a fresh pot, he took the opportunity to study Mrs. Norwood. Mrs., she’d said, but she didn’t wear a ring. Divorced? Widowed?

Her hands were roughened, no doubt from that garden where he’d first seen her, but they were delicate and long-fingered. Artistic, he’d say, if he believed physical traits meant talents.

As for the rest, his first impression was strengthened. She wore that air of strain like a heavy coat, weighing her down. Her fine-boned face tensed with it, and it spoke in the lines around her hazel eyes. Life hadn’t treated her well, and he had a ridiculous urge to fix that.

“Mrs. Norwood,” he began.

But she shook her head. “Cathleen. Cathy, please. After all, if you’re right, we’re…what? Step-second cousins, I guess.”

“I guess.” He took a sip of the fresh coffee, trying to clear his mind. This woman could help him, if she wanted to, and the fact that she had driven thirty miles to catch him had to be a good sign.

“Cathy.” He smiled, relaxing a little at the encouragement. “Since your grandfather wouldn’t listen to what brought me here, will you?”

“I guess that’s why I’ve come.” Her hands twisted a little before she seemed to force them to relax. “My grandfather doesn’t know. He thinks I came to town for groceries.”

“I see.”

But he didn’t, not really. What kind of relationship did she have with her grandfather? Certainly nothing like the one he’d had with his. Even with the huge tribe of grandkids his three sons had managed to produce, Granddad had still found time to make each of them feel special.

“Did your grandfather send you here to find his brother?” she asked.

“Not exactly. My grandfather died several years ago. My grandmother, Miz Callie, is the one who became convinced that Ned couldn’t have done what people thought he had.”

“Why? What convinced her of that?”

“She remembered him so well, you see. She had faith in him.”

He hesitated, doing some mental editing. There was so much more to the story, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with information.

“At first, the family didn’t know anything about it, and when they did find out, there was a lot of fuss because they figured Miz Callie was going to be hurt if he really had run off. But it turned out that Ned had enlisted in the Navy under another name after he became estranged from his father.”