When We Found Home

“You’re going to need a name,” Delaney murmured. Picking one out would be fun for Keira, and a distraction from the pain of her recovery. She might not have any serious injuries, but she was going to be sore for a while.

Delaney carried the sleeping kitten up to the front door. The house had been built back in the 1940s, but modernized over the years. A ramp led from the driveway to the front door. Delaney took the stairs, then glanced at the specially modified van parked by the ramp. Her dad had come a long way, she thought, grateful for his recovery. She knocked once, then let herself in the unlocked front door.

“Hi,” she called. “It’s me.”

“Hi, pumpkin,” her dad called. “We’re back here.”

Back here meant the kitchen, Delaney thought with a smile. Because that was where everyone always was in this house.

The kitchen was large and open, more great room than just a space to prepare meals. There was a big table in the middle, a wood-burning fireplace in the corner and a couple of worn sofas by the back windows. On the opposite wall were the cabinets, the stove and a large island.

When her father saw her, he grinned and wheeled toward her. “How’s my best girl?”

Phil Holbrook was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man in his midfifties. Despite his inability to walk, he kept himself in shape and never let on that he found his wheelchair a problem.

“I’m good, Dad.” She leaned over to hug him, then handed him the carrier. “This is the unexpected little friend I mentioned.”

Beryl, a petite blonde two years older than Phil, came out from around the island and took the carrier. “Oh, she’s precious. How old is she?”

“The vet thinks nine or ten weeks. She was probably abandoned.”

Beryl looked at Phil. “Oh, honey, a homeless kitten.”

“No,” Phil said mildly. “We’re not getting a kitten. This one already has a home.”

“But what about another homeless kitten?”

“We’re going to start traveling. We’ve got that European cruise booked for September. What would we do with a cat?”

Beryl looked pleadingly at Delaney. “Maybe you could keep her.”

“Oh, I’m so staying out of this,” she said with a laugh.

“Travel,” Phil said mildly. “Lots and lots of travel.”

Beryl mock pouted. “I hate it when you’re sensible.”

“No, you don’t.”

She lightly kissed him. “No, I don’t.”

Delaney set the carrier on the floor by the sofa. Beryl and her family had always been a fixture in Delaney’s life from the time she was born. When Phil had been unexpectedly widowed and left with a newborn to care for, the neighborhood women had stepped in to help. Each mom had taken a shift, allowing Phil to go back to work. Delaney had grown up with Beryl’s three kids, including Tim who was four years older than she was. The families had been close with Tim following in Phil’s footsteps, career wise. After getting his associates degree, he’d joined the Seattle Police Department.

Ten years ago, Beryl had lost her husband to cancer and the neighborhood had rallied again. When Phil had been shot in the same ambush that killed Tim, Beryl and Delaney had gotten each other through the initial shock and grief.

Delaney wasn’t sure when friendship had turned to more between the neighbors, but she was glad her father had finally found someone to love. He was recovered enough to have a relatively normal life and now he had someone to share it with. A few months before, he’d proposed to Beryl and she’d accepted. They were getting married in a quiet ceremony in late August, then taking their first cruise together in September.

Beryl straightened. “Go ahead,” she told Delaney. “Your kitten will be fine until you’re back. And while you’re gone, I’ll put together some food for you to take home. You’re not eating enough.”

“I’m eating plenty.”

Beryl didn’t look convinced. “You’re thinner every time I see you.”

“I wish that were true,” Delaney said with a laugh. “All right, I’m off to the pet store. I won’t be long.”

She’d told Malcolm she would keep Keira’s kitten until Keira was home and able to take care of it herself. She’d half expected him to protest, saying his sister couldn’t keep the kitten, but he’d only thanked her for helping.

As she slid behind the wheel of her car and started the engine, she admitted she was having trouble reconciling the confident suit-wearing guy she knew from the office to the shell-shocked brother she’d met at the hospital. She still couldn’t believe Malcolm was Keira’s asshole brother.

From what Keira had told her, she’d been living in foster care in Los Angeles when she’d been found by her long-lost family. Malcolm had flown down to LA to bring her to Seattle. Once settled in her fancy digs, she’d been enrolled at the very upscale Puget Sound Preparatory Academy and pretty much left on her own.

Delaney hadn’t known how much of Keira’s story was true and how much of it wasn’t. Now she was even less sure. Not that she thought anyone was starving the preteen or beating her, but benign neglect wasn’t exactly nurturing.

Malcolm seemed like a decent guy so what was going on at home? Was it possible he simply didn’t know what to do with a twelve-year-old? And what about the grandfather? Where was he in all this?

Delaney sighed. Maybe she was exaggerating the problem. Maybe there wasn’t a problem at all. She would have to scope things out when she returned the kitten and then... Well, she didn’t know what, but she’d been raised to take care of anyone in need and if she thought Keira needed her, she would be there in a heartbeat.

chapter five (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)

“I’m worried,” Grandfather Alberto said as he sipped his morning coffee. “Keira is so young, so small. What a terrible thing to have happened.”

“She’s recovering. The doctor said she’s going to be fine. Carmen is taking her to her pediatrician tomorrow.” Malcolm paused, not knowing what else to say to comfort the old man.

Carmen had kept the news about Keira’s accident from Alberto until Malcolm had confirmed his granddaughter was going to be all right. Still, Alberto had gone pale and even two days after her accident, he was more frail than Malcolm had ever seen him. His breakfast—oatmeal, two poached eggs and a bowl of fresh fruit—sat untouched. More uncomfortable, it was after seven and he hadn’t bothered to dress yet. This from a man who was up by five thirty and in a suit and tie well before breakfast.

“I sat with her yesterday.” Alberto’s gaze was fixed on the table. “She slept so much.”

“They gave her painkillers. I’m sure they knocked her out. Plus she has to heal from the accident. She has bumps and bruises. She was lucky.” It could have been a whole lot worse. Or deadly, Malcolm thought grimly.

The driver of the Prius had been interviewed by the police. He had no record of DUIs, had tested negative for alcohol and drugs, and hadn’t had a speeding ticket in nearly a decade. Keira had run into the street without looking and the driver had done the best he could.

“What if we’d lost her?” Alberto asked, raising his troubled gaze to Malcolm’s face. “I don’t think I could take that.”

And there it went—the knife of guilt sliding in over ribs, right to the heart. Malcolm knew the words weren’t meant to be a stab, but he felt the slicing all the same.

“We didn’t lose her.” In a desperate attempt to raise his grandfather’s spirits he said, “We’ll get the DNA tests today.”

Alberto brightened. “Yes, you’re right. I look forward to knowing my other granddaughter will soon be on her way to join us.” His tension eased as his shoulders squared. “You’re right. We were lucky with Keira. She could have been badly hurt and she wasn’t. It’s a sign. Now Callie will join us and our family will be complete.” He smiled at Malcolm. “You’re a good man. I trust you, Malcolm.”

Words that should have made him feel better and didn’t. “I’m going to stay home with Keira this morning, then head to the office in the afternoon.”

Alberto smiled. “She’ll enjoy spending time with you.”

Malcolm had his doubts, but he was committed now. Besides, what had happened at the hospital had shown him how little he knew Keira. She’d been living in the house two months and he barely knew anything about her. Carmen had stepped in to take care of things and he’d let her.

He finished his coffee. As he rose, he gently squeezed his grandfather’s shoulder before heading upstairs. When Malcolm and his mother had first arrived in Seattle, Jerry hadn’t been the least bit interested in having a son, but Alberto had been thrilled to discover he had a grandson. He’d welcomed both into the family home. Jerry had lived elsewhere, something Malcolm later learned to appreciate.

With Alberto, everything was easy. There was plenty of conversation and laughter, warmth and safety. With Jerry—Malcolm shook his head. He couldn’t remember ever spending even a single meal alone with his father. Jerry had been nearly as absent after Malcolm had become a fixture in his life as before. He had no interest in his son and little interest in Alberto.