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The Guardian's Honor
Marta Perry
Coast Guard officer Adam Bodine finally finds his long-vanished great-uncle. But the secretive elderly man has adopted some new kin…single mother Cathy Norwood and her disabled little boy. Adam is grateful when Cathy convinces his relative to reunite with the Bodines. Until he learns why she's so eager. Though his heartstrings are tugged by their plight, he knows he doesn't deserve them in his life–not with his past. Unless one big extended family can teach Lieutenant Bodine something about love and honor.



It couldn’t be too comfortable for Adam to carry her son, with those metal braces bumping against his chest, but it didn’t deter him.
Adam was looking up at Jamie, laughing at something, and the expression on Jamie’s face made Cathy’s heart stop.
A fierce longing swept through her to have that for Jamie—a strong man to carry him on his shoulder, to make him laugh, to show him how to grow up into a good man.
She pushed the thought away just as fiercely. It wasn’t likely to happen. Just look at how Adam had reacted, stepping away so quickly after he’d kissed her. That should tell her all she needed to know.
But there was more to know.

MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curricula to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for the Love Inspired lines.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren, traveling, gardening or relaxing with a good book.
Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark and/or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

The Guardian’s Honor
Marta Perry


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Bear with one another and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
—Colossians 3:13
This story is dedicated to Bill and Molly Perry,
my dear brother and sister-in-law. And, as always,
to Brian, with much love.

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
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion

Chapter One
“What are you doing?” The woman’s soft Georgia drawl bore a sharp edge of hostility.
Adam Bodine took a step back on the dusty lane and turned toward the woman with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Just admiring your garden, ma’am.”
Actually, the garden was worthy of a second glance. By early September at the tail end of a hot, dry summer, most folks would find their tomato plants shriveled to a few leafless vines, but these still sported fat red tomatoes.
The woman rose from where she’d been kneeling, setting a basket of vegetables on the ground, the movement giving him a better look at her.
She was younger than he’d thought in that first quick glance. A faded ball cap covered blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, its brim shielding her eyes so that he couldn’t see what color they were. Light, he thought. Her slim shoulders were stiff under a faded, oversized plaid shirt, giving the impression that she braced herself for something unpleasant. Was that habitual, or did his appearance account for it?
“These tomatoes are about ready to give up,” she said, still guarded. “Did you want something?”
He did, but it was far better if this woman didn’t know what had brought him to the ramshackle farm deep in the Georgia mountains. At least, not until he knew for sure he was in the right place.
“Just passing by.” He glanced back down the winding lane that had brought him to what he hoped was the last stop on a long hunt. Please, Lord. “I don’t suppose you get many strangers up here.”
“No.” The tone said she didn’t want any, either. “Look, if you’re sellin’ something…”
A chuckle escaped him. “Do I look like a salesman?” He spread his hands, inviting her to assess him.
There wasn’t much he could do to make his six-foot frame less intimidating, but he tried to ease his military bearing and relax his face into the smile that his sister always said was at its most boyish when he was up to something. At least the jeans, T-shirt, and ball cap he wore were practically a uniform these days.
“Maybe not a salesman,” she conceded. “But you haven’t explained what you’re doing on a private road.” She sent a quick, maybe worried glance toward the peeling white farmhouse that seemed to doze in the afternoon heat. “Mr. Hawkins doesn’t like visitors.”
Mr. Hawkins. The formal address might mean she wasn’t a relative. A caregiver, maybe?
“Actually, I’m looking for someone. A man named Ned Bodine. Edward Bodine, to be exact.” He studied her as he said the words, looking for any sign of recognition.
The woman took the ball cap off, frowning as she wiped her forehead with the sleeve of the plaid shirt, leaving a streak of dirt she probably hadn’t intended. Her eyes were light, as he’d supposed, neither blue nor green but hazel. That heart-shaped face might have been pretty if not for whatever it was that tightened it—worry, maybe, or just plain dislike of nosy strangers.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard the name. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She gestured toward the garden.
“You’re sure?” Of course she might not know, even if she were a relative of his great-uncle. Ned Bodine had stayed missing for sixty-some years, which meant he probably kept his secrets well.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She snapped the words at him, picking up the basket as if it were a shield.
So much for getting anything out of her. “In that case, I’d like to speak to Mr. Theodore Hawkins.”
She gave him a wary, suspicious stare. “Why?”
“Look, I don’t blame you for being cautious, Ms….”
“Mrs.,” she corrected. “Mrs. Norwood.” She bit off the words, as if regretting giving him that much.
The name wasn’t the same, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related. She could be…let’s see, what was it? Second or third cousin, maybe?
“I know it seems odd, having a perfect stranger coming along and asking questions, but I do need to talk with Mr. Hawkins.”
“He’s resting right now. He always takes a rest in the afternoon. He’s not to be disturbed.”
The way she phrased that made it sound as it she took orders from the man. Probably not a relative, then, so he had to be stingy with what he told her. Gossip flew fast in country places, even though there wasn’t another house in sight.
“Look, I think he’d probably be willing to talk with me.” Doubt assailed him as he said the words. What made him think Ned Bodine wanted to be found after all these years? Still, all he could do was try. “Just tell him Adam Bodine wants to see him. Please.”
He glanced toward the house, hoping to see some sign of life. Nothing, but he noticed something he hadn’t before. A child played under the shade of a tall pine near the corner of the porch, running toy cars in the dirt.
“Your little boy?” he asked. Maybe an expression of interest in her child would ease the ice between them.
His words seemed to have the opposite effect. She moved, putting herself into position to block his view of the child.
“I told you. Mr. Hawkins is resting. He wouldn’t be able to help you, anyway.”
“We won’t know that until we ask him, will we?” He put a little steel into the words. Obviously this Mrs. Norwood wasn’t going to fall victim to the notorious Bodine charm. “When can I see him?”
She clamped her lips together for a long moment. She could either give in, or she could threaten to call the sheriff on him. Which would it be?
Finally she gave a curt nod. “All right. Come back tonight around six.” She gave a pointed look from him to his car.
Nobody would say he couldn’t take a hint. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be back at six.”
She didn’t respond, bending again to her tomato plants as if he weren’t there.
He gave the sleeping house a final glance. He’d be back. With any luck, this long search would end here.

Cathy cleared the supper dishes quickly, half her attention on the clock. Somehow she hadn’t managed to tell her grandfather yet about the visitor, and the man would be here in minutes.
She slanted a glance at her grandfather. He was whittling a soft piece of pine, turning it into a boat for her son. Six-year-old Jamie sat next to him, elbows on the table, his blue eyes fixed on the boat as it emerged from the wood.
A smile softened her lips. Grandpa had done the same for her as a child, creating fanciful animals and even small dolls. She’d been as close to him then as Jamie was now, and she’d never have dreamed that could change.
But it had. Her mind winced away from the bitter memory.
Grandpa and Jamie were the only family she had, but her willfulness had created a seemingly unbreakable wall between her and her stepgrandfather.
As for Jamie—her heart swelled with love for her son. Jamie needed so much, more than she could possibly provide unless things changed.
Her mind went round and round, back on the familiar track. She had to take care of her grandfather. She had to provide the surgery and therapy her son needed. How? How would she do that?
She suddenly realized that Jamie’s prattle about the game he’d been playing with his toy cars had turned in a new direction.
“…and he drove a silver car, and Mama said he should come back to talk to you.”
Grandpa’s gaze swiveled to hers, his bushy white brows drawing down over his eyes. “What’s all this, then, Cathleen? Who was here? Somebody selling something?”
She wiped her hands on the dish towel. “He said he was looking for information about someone. Someone he thought you might know, apparently. A man named Edward Bodine.”
Grandpa’s hand slipped on the carving, and the half-finished boat dropped to the floor. For an instant silence seemed to freeze the old farmhouse kitchen.
Then he shoved himself to his feet, grabbing his cane. “I won’t see him.” His face reddened. “You know how I feel about strangers. Tell him to go away.”
She quaked inside at the anger in his tone, but then her own temper rose. She wouldn’t let him bully her. She glanced past him, out the kitchen window.
“You can tell him yourself. He’s just pulled up.” She touched her son’s shoulder. “Jamie, you go play in your room for a bit.”
Without waiting for a response, she walked away, reaching the door as she heard the man’s footsteps on the creaky porch. She opened the door before the knock could sound.
Bodine looked a little startled, but he recovered quickly. Not the sort to be rattled easily, she’d think. Tall, with a bearing that said military and the kind of strong-boned face that would compel obedience.
For just an instant she thought she glimpsed something bleak behind the brown eyes, and then his face relaxed in an easy, open smile.
“Mrs. Norwood. I hope I’m not too early.”
“It’s fine.” At least, she hoped it was. It was hard to tell how rude her grandfather intended to be. On the other hand, this man looked capable of handling just about anything Grandpa could throw at him. “Please, come in.”
Adam Bodine stepped into the house, wiping his feet on the threadbare rug by the door. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he stared over her shoulder at her grandfather with an expression in his eyes she couldn’t quite make out. It was almost a look of recognition.
“This is Theodore Hawkins,” she said.
“Adam Bodine.” He held out his hand, smiling.
Grandpa ignored it, his face tight and forbidding. “Whatever it is you want, I’m not interested. You can be on your way.”
She sucked in a breath, but Bodine didn’t seem fazed by the blunt words.
“I need to talk with you, sir. About my great-uncle, Edward Bodine.” He paused, glancing at her. “Maybe we should do this in private.”
It took an instant to realize that he must think she was just the hired help. Well, maybe that wasn’t far from the truth.
“You can talk in front of me,” she said. “This is my grandfather.”
“Stepgrandfather,” Grandpa said.
She wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt to hear it said aloud. It was true, of course. Her mother had been his stepdaughter, not his daughter. Still, he’d never referred to her that way, probably never even thought about it, before she’d gone away.
There was still a trace of hesitation in Bodine’s face, but he nodded. “Fine. As I said, I’ve come here to ask about Ned Bodine, my grandfather’s older brother. He disappeared in 1942.”
“Disappeared?” Her grandfather wasn’t responding, so apparently it was up to her. “What do you mean? Disappeared how?”
Bodine switched his focus to her. “He ran away from the family home on Sullivan’s Island. Near Charleston?” He made it a question.
“I know where Sullivan’s Island is.” One of the barrier islands off Charleston, the kind of place where people with money built summer houses, she’d guess. “Why did he run away?” He’d said 1942. “Does this have something to do with the war?”
Her grandfather never talked about the war, but he’d served then. She remembered hearing her grandmother say something to her mother about it, and then turning to her eight-or-nine-year-old self and cautioning her not to mention it.
He doesn’t want to talk about the war, so we have to respect that. Her grandmother’s soft voice had seemed very mournful. It did bad things to him.
“People said Ned ran away because he was afraid to fight in the war,” Bodine said. “We—the family, that is—we’re sure that’s not true.”
Her grandfather turned away. With one hand he gripped the back of a straight chair, his grasp so hard that the veins stood out of the back of his hand.
Tension edged along Cathy’s skin like a cold breeze. Something was wrong. Something about this man’s words affected Grandpa. She shook her head, trying to shake off the tension.
“I don’t understand what this has to do with us. Are you saying my grandfather knew this Ned Bodine?”
“No.” He looked from her to her grandfather, seeming to gauge their responses. “I’m saying that your grandfather is Ned Bodine.”
The chair Grandpa held skidded against the wood floor as he shoved it. “Get out.”
“Grandpa…”
“Stay out of it.” He turned to her a face that seemed stripped down to the bone.
“I know this is a shock,” Bodine said. “But if we can just talk it over—” He cut the words off suddenly, looking beyond her to the doorway.
She whirled. Jamie stood there, hanging on to the frame with one hand. He swung one leg forward, its brace glinting dully. “Mama, I can’t find my bear.”
“Not now, Jamie.” She moved to him, easing him protectively away from the two tense figures in the living room.
But Jamie craned his neck to see around her, smiling at Adam Bodine. Unlike his great-grandfather, Jamie loved company, and he saw very little of it.
“Hey. I’m Jamie.”
“Hey, Jamie.” Bodine’s response was all right, but his expression wasn’t.
Anger welled in her. How dare he look at her child with shock and pity in his eyes? She pulled Jamie a little closer, her arms cradling him.
“You heard my grandfather, Mr. Bodine. It’s time for you to leave.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, without another word, he backed out the door and walked quickly away.

“Was he a bad man, Mama?” Jamie snuggled against his pillows after his good-night prayers, looking up at Cathy with wide, innocent eyes.
Cathy smoothed his blond cowlick with her palm, love tugging at her heart. “No, I’m sure he’s not.” How to explain to her son something that she didn’t understand herself? “He wanted to find out something about a…a friend of his, but Grandpa couldn’t help him.”
Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t? Her grandfather’s reactions to the Bodine man had been odd, to say the least.
After Bodine left, Grandpa had stalked to his bedroom and slammed the door. He hadn’t come out until she was putting Jamie in the tub, and then he’d ignored the subject of their visitor as if the man didn’t exist, instead talking to Jamie about his boat and promising to have it finished by bath time the next day.
“But Grandpa would’ve helped the man if he could’ve, right, Mama? ’Cause that’s what Jesus would want him to do.”
“I’m sure he would,” she said, though her heart wasn’t at all sure.
How difficult it was to teach her son about faith when her own was as weak as a willow twig. She smoothed the sheet over him and bent to kiss his soft cheek.
“Good night, little man. I love you great big bunches.”
His arms squeezed her tightly. “I love you great big bunches, too, Mama.”
She dropped another light kiss on his nose and went out, leaving the door ajar. She followed the sound of the refrigerator door opening to the kitchen.
Grandpa was pouring himself a glass of sweet tea. He lifted the pitcher toward her and raised his eyebrows in a question. Taking that as a peace offering, she nodded.
“Some tea sounds good about now. September’s turning out near as hot as August, seems like.”
He brought the glasses to the table and sank into his usual chair. “Too dry. We’d better not spare any more water for those tomato plants, I reckon, if we want the well to hold out.”
It was the sort of conversation that passed for normal now between them. Since she’d come back to the house where she was raised, destitute and with a disabled child in tow, she and Grandpa had existed in a kind of neutral zone, as if they were simply roommates.
Grandpa had been that way with Jamie at first, too, but it hadn’t taken long for love to blossom between them. She found joy every day that Jamie now had the father figure who’d been absent from his life.
She had to be content with that and not expect anything for herself. Once Grandpa had made up his mind about someone, he wouldn’t turn back.
So she had nothing to lose by pushing him a little about that odd visit. She moved her cold glass, making wet circles on the scrubbed pine tabletop. “What did you make of Adam Bodine?”
His face tightened. “Fellow was just barkin’ up the wrong tree, that’s all. Maybe he was pulling some kind of scam.”
That hadn’t occurred to her. She considered it for a moment, and then set it aside.
“He could have been mistaken, maybe, but not a con artist. The man radiated integrity, it seemed to me.”
“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.”
Her fingers tightened on the cup, as if that fact hit a nerve. “So he never contacted the family again?”
“No.” That was the aspect of the whole thing he just didn’t get. He could understand an eighteen-year-old rushing off to enlist under another name. He couldn’t understand the man Ned must have become cutting himself off from his family for life.
Cathy shook her head slowly, but she didn’t seem to find it as hard to believe as he did. “What convinced you that the man you want is my grandfather?”
In answer, he pulled out the envelope of photographs he’d been carrying around. He slid the reproductions of black and white photos onto the tabletop between them.
“This was the first photo I found of Theodore Hawkins after he enlisted.” He shoved the picture of the young PT boat crew across to her. “Can you pick out your grandfather?”
She bent over, studying the images of boys, most long dead, before putting her finger on one face. “That’s Grandpa.”
He handed her another picture. “And here’s one of Ned Bodine, taken that last summer.” He’d taken the original photo to a professional lab, not content with his own photo program, sharpening the face until he thought he’d recognize his great-uncle in his sleep.
Cathy let out a long, slow breath. “It surely looks like the same person. But if he has family, why would he deny it?”
“You know your grandfather better than I do. Is he the kind of person who would hold on to a grudge that long?”
A shutter seemed to come down over her face, closing him out.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. He needed this woman on his side. “That wasn’t very tactful. I meant—”
“I know what you meant, and the answer is that I don’t know. Maybe.” She seemed to stare into the coffee cup, as if looking for answers there. “Tell me about your family. Why are they so interested in finding him?”
“My grandmother,” he said simply. “She’s the heart of the family, and she wants this so much. How could we not try to help her? As for the family—well, there’s a bunch of us. My grandmother and grandfather had three sons, and they married and had kids. There are eleven of us cousins, all pretty close in age.”
Now she just looked stunned, maybe at the thought of acquiring so many relatives at one fell swoop.
“Y’all live in Charleston?”
“In and around. My grandmother has moved out to the family beach house on Sullivan’s Island. My sister was up in Atlanta for a while, but she’s back now. It seems like whenever one of us goes off for a time, he or she just has to come back. Charleston’s home to us.”
“Beach house?”
“It’s been in the Bodine family for years. In fact, that’s where Ned ran away from. The family always moved out to the island every summer from the Charleston house.”
She glanced at him, something almost speculative in those hazel eyes, and then looked down again. “You said Ned was your grandfather’s older brother?”
He nodded. “About six years between them, I think.”
“It sounds… Well, it sounds like a life no one would want to give up. If my grandfather is your kin, I’d think he’d be eager to claim it.”
She sounded willing to be convinced, and that was half the battle, surely. He’d better bring up the idea he’d been mulling over.
“Is there any chance your grandfather would open up to you about it?”
Her lips tightened. “I don’t know. But if he did, if he really is Edward Bodine, what then? What did you think would happen?”
Something was behind her questions, but he wasn’t sure what it was. “Best-case scenario? I hoped he might want to come back to Charleston, for a visit if not to stay. Be a part of the family again. At the least, I guess I’d hope he’d want to be in touch with Miz Callie. It would mean a lot to her.”
She was silent for a long moment, looking down so that he couldn’t see her eyes. The feeling that she was holding something back intensified.
Finally she looked up. “I don’t think it’ll help any if I talk to him. Once he gets his back up, it’s no sense talking.”
Disappointment had a sharp edge. If his granddaughter couldn’t convince him, why would he listen to Adam?
“My grandfather is going to lunch today with a friend. I’ll have a look through my grandma’s boxes in the attic while he’s gone. Maybe there’ll be something to show, one way or the other. That’s the best I can think of to do.”
“That’s great.” Without thinking about it, he put his hand over hers. And felt a connection, as if something ran from his skin to hers.
She met his eyes, her own wide and startled. Then she snatched her hand away and rose.
“I’ll be in touch.”
She was gone before he could thank her.

Cathy stood at the window, watching the lane. A glint of silver announced Adam’s arrival, and her stomach clenched in protest at what she was about to do.
She glanced down at the object in her hand. Did she have the right to show him what she’d found squirreled away in her grandmother’s trunk?
If she did, she was opening up something that could have results she couldn’t even imagine. But if she didn’t, she was passing up the opportunity to change all their lives for the better. They’d just go on and on the way they were, with the bills mounting and their income dropping, and Jamie would never have a chance to see another specialist.
If she could get a decent job, instead of the part-time work that barely paid enough to keep food on the table…But if she had a full-time job, who would take care of Jamie? Who would be there for Grandpa when he got one of his forgetful spells?
The car pulled up at the gate. Determination hardened in her. From what Adam had said, it sounded like the Bodine family was fairly well-off. Grandpa, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was one of them.
He was probably due something from them, in any event. Shouldn’t he have a share in that beach house and whatever other family property there was?
Come to think of it, that queasiness in her stomach was probably her conscience, telling her she was wrong to want this reconciliation for what she might get out of it. She pictured her son’s face, and her determination hardened. She wouldn’t do this for herself, but she’d do it for him.
A knock sounded on the door, and she went to open it. Everything was going to change. She didn’t know where the change would take her, but she’d deal with it, for Jamie’s sake.
“Cathy?” Adam stepped inside at her gesture, level brows rising. “You found something?”
She nodded. Grandpa could be back at any moment, so she had to make this fast.
“I found this in one of my grandmother’s trunks in the attic.” She handed him the tarnished watch. “Look at the inscription.”
He turned it over in his hands, tilting it to the light. “E.B. from Mama and Daddy. 1942.” His voice choked on the words. For a long moment he was silent, rubbing his thumb over and over the inscription.
“Is it…does that mean what I think it does?”
He nodded. Cleared his throat. “Ned’s parents would have given this to him on his eighteenth birthday. It’s a family tradition.” He turned his wrist. “I’m still wearing the watch my folks gave me. To A.B. from Mama and Daddy, and the date of my eighteenth birthday.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “It’s true, then. My grandfather really is Ned Bodine.”
He nodded, handing the watch back to her slowly, as if reluctant to part with it. “Now all we have to do is get him to admit it.”
“He should be back soon. Do you want to stay? If we tackle him together, that might be best.”
“You’re right. Let’s not give him time to think up an argument. I’ll wait and call my grandmother afterward. I’d like to have good news for her.”
“This means a lot to her.” She responded to the message behind the words.
“It’s all she’s talked about for months.” He frowned slightly. “She thought he’d died in the war. She wanted to set up a memorial to him. Once we realized he might still be alive, there was just no containing her. If I hadn’t taken on finding him, I think she’d have set out herself.” Now his lips curved in a smile that blended affection and exasperation.
It was an appealing smile. She considered herself hardened to the effects of masculine appeal, but there was something about Adam Bodine that seemed to get under her guard.
She gave herself a mental shake. There was no room in her life for thoughts like that.
“I’ll just get us some sweet tea. You make yourself comfortable.” She escaped to the kitchen.
She’d no sooner put ice in the tea than she heard voices in the living room. Her nerves twitched. If Grandpa was back already…
But that wasn’t her grandfather talking to Adam. It was Jamie’s piping little voice. Snatching the tray, she hurried back into the room.
Adam sat on the faded sofa, the half-finished wooden boat in his hand. Jamie leaned against his knee.
“My grandfather used to whittle things for me, too. Sea creatures, mostly…dolphins and whales and sea horses. I still have them on a shelf in my bedroom.”
“I wish I could see them.” Jamie’s voice was wistful. “Is your house a long, long way?”
“Not too far,” Adam began, but he cut the words off when he saw her.
She set the tray down, keeping her smile intact with an effort. “Jamie, it’s time for your snack. Come along to the kitchen now.”
“But, Mama, I want to talk to Mr. Adam.”
“Not now.” She put her hand on his shoulder, resisting the urge to pick him up and carry him. Let him do as much as he can for himself. The doctor’s words rang in her head, but it was hard, so hard, to watch him struggle.
She settled Jamie at the kitchen table with milk and a banana and then returned to her guest.
Adam greeted her with a question in his eyes. “Do you always keep your son away from people, or is it just me?”
She fidgeted with her glass, disconcerted by his blunt attack. Well, she could be blunt, too. “Jamie’s had enough of people staring at him and pitying him.”
“I wasn’t…” He stopped, and she sensed an emotion she didn’t understand working behind the pleasant face he presented to the world.
“Sorry,” he said finally. “I guess I overreacted the first time I saw him. I promise, it won’t happen again. He has nothing to fear from me.”
That was an odd way of expressing it, and again she had the sense of something behind the words.
But there was no time to speculate on it now. The sound of a car had her stomach twisting in knots again. That would be Emily Warden, bringing Grandpa back from his lunch.
She looked at Adam and saw the same apprehension in his eyes that must be in hers. Ready or not, it was time to do this.

Grandpa’s face was already red with anger when he came through the door, no doubt because he’d seen the strange car sitting in front. She steeled herself for the inevitable explosion.
It didn’t come. Somehow, Grandpa managed to hold his voice down to a muted roar. “What is he doing here?”
He indicated Adam with a jerk of his head, focusing his glare on her.
“He’s here because I invited him.” Her voice didn’t wobble, thank goodness, as she drew the battle line.
This was actually the first time she’d challenged her grandfather on anything since she’d moved back, but she had to do this. It was the only door out of this trap they were in.
“I told you before. He’s nothing to do with us.”
“Grandpa, that’s not the truth, and you know it. I found this.” She held out the watch. It lay on her palm, and her grandfather looked at it as if it were a snake about to strike.
“Where did you get that?”
“In Grandma’s trunk.” A smile trembled on her lips at the memory of her grandmother. “She never did like to throw anything away. Remember?”
“’Course I remember.” His eyes were suspiciously bright. “Woman saved everything. Never listened to me a day in her life. Feisty.”
“She had to be, living with you all those years.” It was the sort of thing she used to be able to say to him, gone in the aftermath of the quarrel, but it came to her lips now. “Look at the watch, Grandpa. ‘To E.B. from Mama and Daddy. 1942.’”
He was shaking his head when Adam held out his own watch.
“I have one, too. The family still gives them as an eighteenth-birthday gift.”
Grandpa stared at it for a moment. Then he stumped over to his rocking chair and sat down heavily, the red color slowly fading out of his face, leaving it pale and set.
“All right, all right. Since you’re bound and determined to have it out, I was born Edward Bodine. But I haven’t been that man in years, and I don’t reckon to start now.”
The capitulation left her weak in the knees, and she sat down on the sofa, not sure what would come next.
Grandpa stared at Adam, as if seeking some resemblance. “Your grandfather was my little brother. He still alive?”
“No, sir. He died ten years ago of a stroke. Miz Callie’s still going strong, though. He married Callie McFarland. You remember her?”
“Little Callie.” Her grandfather seemed to look back through the years, and for the first time she saw some softening in his expression. “’Course I remember her. Lived near us on the island, always in and out of the house. So she and Richmond got hitched.”
Adam came cautiously to take a seat next to her, apparently feeling he wasn’t going to get thrown out at the moment. “Richmond and Callie had three boys. My father is the oldest.”
“And you’d be his oldest boy, I s’pose.”
Adam blinked. “How did you know that?”
“Oldest sons have that look of responsibility on them.” His face tightened a little. “I did. You in the service?”
“Coast Guard. Lieutenant. I’m running a patrol boat out of Coast Guard Base Charleston right now.”
So she’d been right about the military look of him. Despite that easygoing smile, he was probably one who could take command when he needed to.
“Family tradition.” Grandpa’s lips twisted. “Your great-granddaddy would be right proud of you. He never was of me. Called me a coward, said I was a disgrace to the family name. So I figured I didn’t need to use it any more.”
The bitterness that laced his voice appalled her. How could he still carry so much anger toward someone who was long dead?
She glanced at Adam, to see that he looked taken aback as well.
“It’s been a long time, Grandpa.” She said the words softly. “Adam and his people didn’t have anything to do with the quarrel you had with your father.”
“They’re his kin,” he flared.
“And yours,” Adam said. “Miz Callie is the one who was determined to find out what happened to you. She remembers so much about that last summer on the island—about how you took her and Richmond fishing and shrimping, how patient you were with them.”
His face eased a little. “They were good kids, I’ll say that. Always listened.”
“You had some friends there, too. Boys you hung around with in the summer, Miz Callie says. There’s a picture of a bunch of you together.”
“Timmy Allen and Phil Yancey, I s’pose. And Benny Adams. I haven’t thought of them in years. All dead now, I reckon.”
“Not Mr. Adams. My sister talked to him just a few weeks ago, once we found out you were still alive. He said to tell you to come see him.”
“Benny always was tough, for all he was the shortest one of the bunch.” The hand Grandpa raised to his eyes trembled a little, and he wiped away tears.
Her heart twisted. He hadn’t wept since Grandma’s death. He was softening toward Adam. If only…
“Why don’t y’all come back to Charleston with me?” Adam said. “The family there would surely like to get to know you.”
Grandpa shook his head. “What’s the point in reliving the past? I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”
“Please,” she murmured, barely aware that it was a prayer. Then, more boldly, she said, “The rest of the family would like to meet you, Grandpa. They didn’t have anything to do with the quarrel.”
She leaned toward him, intent on making him agree to this. Didn’t he see? It was a chance for Jamie. Once they got to Charleston, anything could happen. There were specialists there, even a medical university. The family might feel obligated to help.
If not, well, she could talk to a lawyer, even, to see if Grandpa was entitled to some part of his father’s estate.
“Miz Callie’s going to be disappointed in me if I come back without you,” Adam said. “She has her heart set on seeing you again. She’s always believed in you.”
Grandpa weakened a little; she could see it in his eyes, even though he was still shaking his head.
“Are we goin’ someplace, Grandpa?” Jamie, drawn by their voices, poked his head in from the kitchen. “I want to go someplace.”
“We might go to Charleston, sugar,” she said. That was playing dirty, involving Jamie, but at this point she’d do whatever it took. “You could see the beach. Wouldn’t that be great?”
“I want to go.” He hurried across the room as fast as his braces would allow, fetching up against his grandfather’s knees. “Please, let’s go. I want to see the beach.”
Grandpa stroked Jamie’s silky hair, his hand not quite steady. “Well, I guess maybe there’s no harm in going to see the place.” He looked at Adam then, “I’m not saying I’ll go back to being part of the family, mind, so don’t you go getting any ideas. But I guess we can go for a visit, seein’ it means so much to the boy.”
Cathy exhaled slowly, afraid even to move for fear he’d change his mind. But he wouldn’t do that, not once he’d told Jamie.
Her gaze met Adam’s, and she smiled. They’d done it.

Chapter Three
Adam shot upright in bed, his heart thudding, wet with perspiration. Disoriented for a moment, until he remembered that he was spending the night at the Hawkins place so they could make an early start in the morning.
Checking his watch, he let the routine movement calm him. Two in the morning. Definitely too early to get up, but his heart still pounded and his nerves jumped, demanding that he move.
It had been the dream. Fragments of it this time, not the whole, inevitable sequence of events he sometimes replayed for himself. In this one, he’d seen the smugglers’ boat, black and shining in the sunlight that dazzled his eyes. He’d seen his hands, the right hand clutching his weapon at the ready, heard himself give the command to fire the warning shot.
Then the boat swamping, people tumbling into the water, reaching for the boy, seeing the look of silent suffering, the mother’s anguish as she held him. The blood.
He must have jerked himself awake at that point, overwhelmed with guilt. The guilt was always there, but kept constantly under control. Only his dreams loosed it, like a beast ready to devour him.
Running both hands through his damp hair, he clutched the back of his neck. Hot in here—maybe that was what had triggered the dream. It had been hot that day, too, but cooler once the patrol boat was out on the ocean.
A breath of jasmine-scented air touched her face. No use trying to go back to bed right away. He’d go to the kitchen, get a drink, maybe walk around a little until his nerves settled.
He padded silently down the stairs, reminding himself that the house’s three occupants slept behind the doors on the first floor. And thinking of them made him realize exactly why he’d dreamed tonight. It wasn’t the heat or the strange bed.
It was Cathy and Jamie. That first glimpse of the boy had done it. He’d seen Cathy bending over her son protectively, seen the look of patient suffering in the boy’s eyes, and he’d been right back there on the water off the Florida Keys.
Reaching the kitchen, he drew a glass of water from the tap. Tepid, but he drained it anyway in a long, thirsty gulp. He set the glass on the counter. Its click was followed by another sound—a creaking board. He turned.
Cathy stood in the doorway. Barefoot like him, she wore a striped robe that fell to her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Even in the dim light, he could see the question in her eyes.
She crossed to him quietly. “Is something wrong?”
“Just couldn’t sleep.” He wasn’t going to tell her why—not now, not ever, even though it might help to explain his initial reaction to Jamie.
“I don’t wonder, with this heat. I’m sure you’re used to air-conditioning.” She moved to the refrigerator and got out a pitcher of water, picked up his glass and poured. “Have this. At least it’s cold.”
“Thanks.” He took the glass she offered. It was frosty against his palm. “You’re not sleeping, either.”
She made an indeterminate little gesture with her hand. “Fretting about whether I’ve forgotten something, I guess. Or whether anything will go wrong.”
“I’m not surprised. The arrangements for this trip have been as complicated as planning a NATO summit.”
That brought a smile to her face. “You’re right about that. I thought a dozen times in the past couple of days that Grandpa would cancel the whole visit.”
“Luckily we had our secret weapon.”
At her look of incomprehension, he grinned. “Jamie. That boy could charm the birds from the trees. He reminds me of my brother, Cole. Cole can talk anybody into most anything.”
She tilted her head to one side, looking at him. “Is Cole like you?”
“In looks, you mean? He’s not as big as I am—more wiry, I guess you’d say. Not in temperament, either. I’m like my daddy, slow and solid. Maybe a little bit boring. Cole, he’s like quicksilver, gets mad fast, gets over it fast. I guess that’s why he’s flying a jet instead of running a patrol boat like me.”
“I don’t think you’re boring,” she said. “And it’s surely a good thing you’re patient, or planning this trip with my grandfather would have driven you crazy.”
“It’s okay. He has to have mixed feelings about going back after all this time.” He paused, wondering if she had any more insight than he did. She and her grandfather didn’t seem all that close. “Do you have any idea why he’s refusing to go to the beach house? My grandmother just assumed he’d want to stay there. I think she’s a little hurt that y’all are going to my mama and daddy’s in Mount Pleasant instead.”
She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back into the loose single braid, maybe buying time. “He hasn’t talked to me about it, but I’m guessing he won’t go there because that’s where he had the big breach with his father. Too many bad memories, maybe.”
He considered that. “Bound to be some good ones, too, but…” He let that trail off, inviting her to finish the thought.
“He hasn’t forgiven his father.” She shook her head, the braid swinging. “The poor man’s been dead for half a century, I s’pose, but Grandpa can’t forgive him. He’s not good at forgiving.”
Something in her tone alerted him. “It sounds as if you have some personal experience with that.”
She didn’t speak for a moment—long enough for him to wish he hadn’t pried. This trip was going to be difficult enough without having her mad at him the whole time.
She let out her breath in a little sigh. “I know better than anyone.” She spread her hands slightly. “You’ve seen how he is with me. You probably wouldn’t believe that we were as close as could be once.”
“What happened?” he asked softly, just to keep her talking.
She stared blankly toward the window where a small patch of moonlight showed, but he didn’t think she was seeing that.
“I let him down,” she said finally. “He had his heart set on my going to college. He and Grandma saved every penny they could to make that happen. And then I had to lose my head over a guy. Quit college, get married. Break my grandma’s heart, to hear Grandpa tell it.”
If it had been daylight, she probably never would have said a word of that. The dark, silent kitchen seemed to encourage confidences.
“What you did was only what thousands of other kids probably do every year. It’s not so bad.”
“It was to Grandpa. He said if I persisted in doing something so foolish, he’d wash his hands of me.”
“But you’re here now.” What had happened to the man? Where did Jamie fit into the story?
“After Jamie was born, my husband left. I worked, but Jamie needed so much care—well, eventually we needed a place to live. Grandpa needed someone to look out for him.” She shrugged. “It worked out all right eventually. But I wouldn’t count on him forgiving anytime soon.”
Her voice had hardened, and she’d warned him off the private, obviously painful past. No matter. She was coming to Charleston, and he’d have time to hear the rest of the story.
“I’m pinning all my hopes on Miz Callie,” he said lightly. “This is her heart’s desire, and I imagine she can be just as stubborn as your grandfather.”
Cathy seemed to shake off the remnants of the past. “Let’s hope so, for all our sakes.”
Leaning against the counter, he studied her face, pale and perfect as a black-and-white drawing in the dim light. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. I know why I’m going to all this trouble to bring Ned back to his family. Why are you?”
She looked startled and defensive, taking a step back. “I…I want what’s best for my grandfather, that’s all.”
Was it? He wasn’t so sure. He had a sense that there was more to Cathy’s desire to get her family to Charleston than he’d heard.
He’d be patient. He didn’t have to know all the answers tonight.
But he would know them, eventually.

“We’re going over the Ravenel Bridge now.” Adam’s voice was cheerful, as it had been for this endless trip.
Jamie, who’d slept in the car, was nearly as energetic as Adam. Her grandfather had slept off and on. Or maybe he’d just been closing his eyes against the once-familiar sights.
As for her—well, she was just plain exhausted. All the emotional stress and the hard work of the past few days seemed to have landed on her once she was sitting still. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
Jamie leaned forward eagerly in his booster seat, hanging on Adam’s every word. “Is that the ocean down there under the bridge?”
“That’s the Cooper River.” Adam didn’t let a trace of amusement into his voice. “Look at all the boats.”
Jamie pressed his face against the window, peering down. “Wow. I wish I could go on a boat.”
“Don’t talk foolish. You don’t need to go on any boats.” Grandpa’s voice was sharp, startling her.
Jamie’s eyes filled with tears at the unexpected rebuke. She patted him, biting her tongue to keep from snapping back at her grandfather. They were all tired. Now was not the time to talk about it.
“We’ll see,” she said quietly. “Look, we’re coming down off the bridge.”
“This is Mount Pleasant,” Adam said. “It’s where I grew up. You’re going to sleep in the house where I lived when I was your age.”
“I am?” Jamie clearly found that idea exciting. “Are your toys there?”
“Jamie,” she said, a warning note in her voice.
“That’s okay.” Adam’s gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “Tell you what, Jamie. If my mama didn’t think to get some of my old toys out of the attic, you and I will go up there tomorrow and find some for you.”
Uneasiness edged along her skin. She didn’t want Adam doing anything for her son out of pity. Maybe that was irrational, but that was how she felt about it. And she certainly didn’t want Jamie to start relying on him. Who knew how long Adam would be a part of their lives?
She should talk to Adam about it. Just explain her feelings calmly and rationally. He’d understand.
But no more private talks alone in dark kitchens. Her cheeks flamed at the memory. What had possessed her to tell him anything about her past?
At least she’d had the sense to keep it brief. She’d make sure he wouldn’t be hearing any more. And maybe she’d best be on guard that she didn’t start relying on him, either.
She was here for just one reason—to grasp any opportunity that would help Jamie. Nothing else mattered. She summoned up the image of Jamie walking. Think about that, nothing else.
Adam turned onto a narrow residential street that seemed to jog right and left without rhyme or reason. The antebellum-style houses were so close together that the neighborhood felt claustrophobic to her. It was a far cry from their isolated farmhouse.
Adam pulled up in front of a graceful brick home, its small front garden filled with flowers.
“Home,” Adam announced. “Let’s go meet the family.”
With a wordless prayer, Cathy reached out to unbuckle Jamie’s seat belt. This was what she’d wanted. Now she had to face it.
Adam was there suddenly, lifting Jamie out of the car. “There you go, buddy. Let’s go see if my mama got out any toys for you.”
Cathy took her grandfather’s arm. To her surprise, he didn’t pull away. Together, they walked up the brick path to the house and the people who stood outside, waiting for them.
The next few minutes passed in a flurry of introductions. Adam’s father, Ashton, was an older version of Adam, with chestnut hair touched with white at the temples and calm, judicious eyes that seemed to take her measure. His mother was casually elegant, so perfectly coiffed and clad that Cathy felt instantly disheveled and dowdy next to her.
Then a pair of warm arms encircled her as the third member of the welcoming party grabbed her in an unexpected hug.
“I’m Georgia, Adam’s sister. Welcome, Cathy. We’re so glad you’re here.”
Nobody could doubt the sincerity of Georgia’s greeting, and the cold ball of uncertainty in Cathy began to thaw. “Thank you.” She drew Jamie close to her. “This is my son, Jamie.”
Georgia knelt, dark curls swinging around her face. “Hey, there, Cousin Jamie. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Jamie seemed struck dumb by the attention. Then he looked up at Cathy. “Is she really my cousin?” he whispered.
Georgia chuckled. “Sugar, it’s too complicated to be anything else.”
Cathy reminded herself that they weren’t really cousins of hers at all, but if they were willing to see the relationship that way, she wouldn’t argue.
Georgia’s mother elbowed her aside and held out her hand to Jamie. “Why don’t you come with me, Sugar, and we’ll see if we can find some toys for you?”
Jamie looked up at her for permission. She fought back the urge to keep him close. “Go along, but don’t forget your manners.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took Georgia’s mother’s hand tentatively.
Georgia grinned. “Mama loves having a child around to fuss over. Now, you come along, and Daddy and I will show you to your rooms. You just feel free to rest if you want. If I know my brother, he probably got you up at the crack of dawn to drive here.”
“Something like that.” She glanced at Grandpa and saw the tiredness and tension in his drawn face. “Maybe a little lie-down would be good.”
Georgia nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Come along, then, and we’ll get you settled. Adam can bring in your bags before he heads on home.”
She turned toward Adam, not that she hadn’t been aware every minute of exactly where he was, standing quietly behind her.
“I guess we should say thank you and goodbye, then.” She held out her hand, because if he followed his sister’s example and hugged her, it might weaken her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
He took her hand in both of his, closing them warmly around hers, and she felt that warmth spreading through her. “Don’t be so eager to get rid of me.”
“I’m not.” Her cheeks warmed. “I just thought you…Well, you probably have things to do besides babysit us.”
“No chance. I’ll be back later with Miz Callie.” His fingers tightened on hers, and his voice lowered. “Relax, Cathy. You have family now.”
That hit her right in the heart. She wanted to believe that, but could she?

By the time supper was over, Cathy had hit a wall of exhaustion. Too little sleep and too much worry combined to rob her of even the ability to chat.
Fortunately nobody seemed to expect much of her at the moment. Adam had returned with his grandmother, and just now Miz Callie, as they all called her, sat next to Grandpa, talking away a mile a minute. To her relief, Grandpa looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. She’d been half-afraid he’d explode at these new relatives and ruin whatever chance they had.
Jamie sat on the floor of the family room, playing a game of Chutes and Ladders with Georgia. Georgia was apparently about to become the stepmother of an eight-year-old, and she’d said she’d learned to love children’s games again.
Adam had laughed at that, telling her she’d never stopped, and Georgia gibed back at him. For a moment, Cathy had thought they were on the verge of argument, but apparently this sort of good-natured teasing went on all the time between them.
Miz Callie had announced that they were giving them a little time before inflicting the rest of the family on them. Cathy could only feel grateful for that respite.
As it was, the talk, even the kindness of their welcome, was a bit overwhelming. Could anyone really be as warm to a bunch of unknown relatives as the Bodines seemed to be?
Feeling as if she’d fall asleep if she sat in the comfortable chair any longer, she rose. A cabinet against the wall held a dozen or more framed photographs, and she forced her fogged mind to focus on them.
“Admiring my mother’s gallery?” Adam’s voice came, soft at her shoulder, and her skin prickled in awareness at his nearness.
“This is you,” she said, pointing to a solemn young Adam in cap and gown.
“The self-important high-school graduation photo,” he said. “I wish she’d get rid of that.”
“This looks more like you.” She touched the silver-framed snapshot of Adam in Coast Guard blues, leaning against a boat of some sort.
“That’s the patrol boat I manned out of Miami for a while.”
Some tension entered his voice when he said that, and she looked up at his face, wondering what caused it. But he was moving on, identifying people in other photos. The names blurred in her mind, but…
“A lot of people in uniform,” she commented.
“That tends to be a Bodine tradition,” he said. “Mostly Coast Guard, like my grandfather. Miz Callie always says that Bodines are never happy too far from the sea.”
“My grandfather must be the exception, then. He settled inland, and never seemed to want to go anywhere else.”
Half-afraid that her grandfather might hear her speaking of him, she glanced his way, but he seemed engrossed in something Adam’s father was saying.
“Let’s step out into the garden for a minute.” Adam took her arm. “You look as if you can use some fresh air.”
Before she could protest, he was guiding her out the French doors onto a flagstone patio. At its edge was a rustic bench, and he led her to a seat in the shadow formed by a live oak draped with Spanish moss, silver in the dim light.
“You’ve been as tense as a cat in a roomful of rockers all evening. What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just tired, I guess.” That was true, but it wasn’t all of it.
Adam surveyed her face, his eyes serious, maybe even caring. “It’s just been a few days, but I already know you better than that. What are you fretting about?”
This was just what she’d wanted to avoid—being alone with him in the quiet evening, feeling as if she could tell him anything.
“Worried that Grandpa will lose his temper, for one thing. I’d hate for him to alienate everyone before they even get to know him.”
Hate for him to ruin Jamie’s chance to benefit from being a part of the Bodine family. That was the truth, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Adam, no matter how sympathetic she found him.
“They’re not going to take offense.” He clasped her hand in his. “They know the whole story. They just want to be family again, that’s all. If he doesn’t…”
Tears pricked at her eyes. “I pushed him into this. If it doesn’t work out, I’m to blame.”
“Seems to me you take entirely too much blame on yourself.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek, and his fingers left a trail of awareness in their wake.
She looked up at him, startled, to find his face very close. “Adam, I…” She lost whatever she’d been going to say. All she could think about was how near he was.
She saw the same recognition in his eyes—a little startled, a little wary. And then the wariness vanished and his lips found hers.
For an instant the world narrowed to the still garden and the touch of Adam’s lips. Then reality flooded in and she jerked back, cheeks flaming. She shot to her feet. He rose, too, holding out one hand to her. He seemed about to speak.
She didn’t want to hear it, no matter what it was.
“Good night, Adam.” She fled into the house before she could make any more of a fool of herself.

Chapter Four
“So when is that old patrol boat going to be replaced with something more up-to-date?”
Adam turned, grinning, at the sound of his cousin Hugh’s voice. “Don’t talk that way about the best little boat in the southeast.” He patted the shining trim. “She might get her feelings hurt.”
“You and your boats.” Hugh leaned an elbow against the dock railing. “I knew I’d find you here. Anyone would think she was a pretty lady instead of an old tub.”
“Don’t say that. She might hear you. And not that I don’t enjoy exchanging insults with you, but what are you doing down here? The Maritime Law Enforcement Academy having a day off?”
“I don’t teach all the time, y’know.”
“Tell the truth. You don’t want to be teaching at all.” He knew only too well that Hugh had loved his work as a boarding officer, leading the crew that boarded suspicious vessels, that he itched to be back on duty. “What do the docs say?”
“Same old, same old,” Hugh said gloomily, patting his bad leg. “They don’t want me in charge of a boarding crew until I’m a hundred percent.”
The injury had hurt Hugh’s pride as well as his leg, Adam suspected. He hated the fact that smugglers had gotten the upper hand of him, even for a moment.
“What do doctors know? Anyway, you brought in the bad guys, even with a bullet in your leg.”
Hugh shrugged. “I want to get back out there. We’ve seen an uptick in smuggling operations. I’d be more use out there than standing in front of a chalkboard.”
“It’ll come.” He felt almost ashamed of his healthy state. “Don’t push it.”
“Well, you be careful when you’re out there, y’heah? It’s not all just Sunday sailors running out of fuel these days.” Hugh straightened, pressing his hands back against the railing.
“I always am.” A trail of unease went through him as he said the words. If he’d been as careful as he claimed, he wouldn’t have injured a child.
And if he’d been as careful as he should be, he wouldn’t have kissed Cathy last night.
Hugh reached out to thump the side of the boat. “So, speaking of pretty ladies, what is our new stepcousin like? When are the rest of us going to get a look at her?”
Adam’s uneasiness increased. “That’s up to Miz Callie. She seemed to think we might be a little overwhelming all at once.”
“The Bodines? Overwhelming?” Hugh exhibited mock surprise. “Never. So I suppose you’re Miz Callie’s hero now, finding our missing uncle and all.”
“I don’t feel like much of a hero.”
The concerns he had about the whole situation pushed at him. He hadn’t talked to anyone about it, but he could talk to Hugh. Hugh’s law-enforcement background gave him a shrewd eye for anything that might cause trouble.
“So what is it?” Hugh asked, confirming his thoughts. “Something’s bothering you about them. Is it Uncle Ned or the granddaughter?”
“Both.” He frowned, trying to frame his words. “From what I can tell, Ned…or Hawkins, as I guess he prefers, has been nursing a grudge against the family all these years.”
Hugh pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “I knew he was on the outs with his father, but that’s more than fifty years ago. How can he blame the rest of us?”
“I’m not saying it’s rational. And he did agree to come, so maybe…” He let that thought die off.
“Has Miz Callie talked to him at all about this memorial she has planned? I mean, he’s not dead yet, so he might think a memorial is a tad premature. What if he doesn’t want a nature preserve named after him?”
“You’ve got me. Apparently Ned never talks about his war years, so he may not like the idea of being reminded. I just hope this whole thing hasn’t set Miz Callie up for disappointment. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”
“If it doesn’t go the way she hopes, well… It’s not like she’s going to blame you for that.”
“I feel responsible. I’m the one who tracked him down.”
“Because she wanted you to.” Hugh was nothing if not practical. “You don’t always have to be the responsible one, y’know.”
He grinned in response to the familiar gibe, but it didn’t make him feel any better. It was a family joke only because it was true. He was the responsible one, always the one the others depended on.
Hugh tilted his head back toward the sun and pulled on the brim of his Coast Guard ball cap. “So I hear tell from Georgia something’s wrong with the little boy. What’s the story?”
“I wish I knew.” Frustration sounded in the words. “I spent the better part of four days with them, and Cathy still keeps me at arm’s length. I get the impression it’s something he was born with, though. Wrenches my heart, seeing him lift those heavy braces.”
She hadn’t kept her distance last night, the little voice in his head reminded him. Last night you were considerably closer than that, and you shouldn’t have been.
“She didn’t talk to you at all about the kid?” Hugh’s voice made it clear he’d have asked.
“She’s overprotective. Secretive, I guess you’d say.” And he was attracted to her, despite not being sure he trusted her.
Hugh leaned against the rail, frowning. “I suppose there’s no doubt he really is Ned Bodine, is there?”
“Oh, he’s Ned, all right. I matched up the photos, and he has the watch his parents gave him.”
Hugh gave a quick glance at his own watch. “Well, even granting he’s kin, we still don’t know anything about him. Or this stepgranddaughter of his. It might be just as well to be a little cautious.”
“Can you picture Miz Callie being cautious, now that she’s found Granddad’s brother after all these years?” Exasperation leaked into his voice.
“You’ve got a point there.” Hugh’s frown deepened. “So, it sounds like you’d best be keeping a close eye on them.”
“Me? Why me?” He’d just been thinking it might be wise to keep his distance from Cathy for a bit.
“You’re the one they know. If they’re going to let anything slip, it’ll be to you. Besides—” Hugh clapped him on the shoulder “—you’re Miz Callie’s hero, remember?”
Adam’s jaw tightened. Hugh was joking, that was all. He couldn’t imagine how little Adam felt like a hero these days.

Her grandfather had been feeling the effects of the trip, growing increasingly irritable as the morning wore on. When he’d finally agreed to take a nap after lunch, Cathy could only feel relieved. She came slowly back downstairs after settling him, running her hand on the polished stair railing. Adam’s parents’ house didn’t scream money, but it had an atmosphere of quiet elegance that didn’t come cheap.
For a moment she felt a hot flush of shame at putting a mental price tag on the home of her hosts. Adam would look at her in contempt if he knew.
But how could she help drawing a comparison between this place and the rundown farmhouse they called home? As for Adam—well, he would never know what she was thinking. And she knew perfectly well that his name and his face were only coloring her thoughts because of that kiss.
What had possessed him? Or her, for that matter? She hadn’t exactly been fighting him off.
She’d say that was because she’d been taken so much by surprise, but lying to herself was a bad idea. She’d been surprised, all right. She’d also been overwhelmed with need and longing. Some deep, aching emptiness inside her had been brought to life by the touch of his lips.
Forget it, she ordered herself firmly. It meant nothing. She would make it mean nothing. Adam had given in to a momentary impulse.
She went in search of Jamie, who’d been settled in the family room with a book when she went upstairs. Now he was in the garden, sitting on a rug with some toys while Miz Callie sat in a lawn chair, watching him.
Cathy took a deep breath, her hand on the door. No two ways about it, Miz Callie intimidated her. Miz Callie might be a tiny, slight elderly woman, but she packed a lot of character in that wise face. Cathy could understand why Adam, indeed the whole family, seemed to have such respect for her.
Stiffening her backbone, Cathy went out into the garden, trying not to look in the direction of that bench where Adam had kissed her.
“Cathy.” Miz Callie looked up with a welcoming smile. “Please, come sit with me. We need to get better acquainted.” She patted the chair that had been placed next to her.
Pinning a smile to her face, Cathy obediently sat. “I hope Jamie isn’t being troublesome.”
“Goodness, no. He’s been as good as gold, sitting there playing with those little wooden trains Delia found for him.”
“That was nice of her.” She could see that Jamie was totally preoccupied with the brightly colored trains.
“They were Adam’s when he was a boy,” Miz Callie said. “I remember when an addition to his train set was the perfect Christmas or birthday present for him. When he was about Jamie’s age, that would have been.”
She didn’t want to talk about Adam, because just hearing his name made her cheeks grow hot, and she feared Miz Callie would notice something. Still, she ought to keep Miz Callie talking about the family. Anything she learned might be of help. She firmly suppressed the qualms she felt. This was for Jamie.
“Such a sweet boy.” Miz Callie was looking at Jamie. “You must be proud of him.”
That took her so much by surprise that it took her a moment to react. “Yes, I am. You’d be surprised at the number of people who just want to pity him. Or me.”
“I’ve never been overly impressed with the wisdom of most people,” Miz Callie said drily.
That surprised a laugh out of her. She was beginning to see what it was about Miz Callie that had her children and grandchildren so devoted to her.
“They only see his disability,” Cathy said. “But he’s like any child, otherwise. A little naughty sometimes. Funny. Loving.” There was suddenly a lump in her throat.
Miz Callie nodded. “They can all be naughty, can’t they? I remember some of the things my grandkids got into. Land, what one of them didn’t think of, the others did.”
“They’re all close in age, Adam told me.”
Miz Callie nodded, a smile on her face that seemed to indicate she was looking back on those years when they were small. “Cole, that’s Adam’s brother, he was the worst for leading them into mischief.”
“Let me guess. It was Adam who led them back out again.”
“You’re very perceptive. That’s exactly right. How did you guess?”
She shrugged, a little uncomfortable at having the conversation turned to the person she didn’t want to think about right now. “He strikes me as being very responsible, that’s all.”
“He’s our rock, is Adam. It’s interesting that you saw that so quickly.”
She wouldn’t let herself be led down the pathway of talking about Adam. “I take it you were able to spend a lot of time with your grandkids, living here in the Charleston area.”
“It’s been a blessing having them so close most of the time. In the summers, they’d always come out to the island house to spend time with their grandfather and me. Those were the best times.”
“What did you do with them? It seems like a lot, all those kids.”
“It was a joy,” Miz Callie said. “And really, they did just what our kids had done as children. And what Richmond and I had done, too, summers on the island.”
Her image of the Bodine clan was growing, Cathy realized. Not an image of great wealth, no, but of a family that was comfortably off in a way that her family had never been.
What would a lawyer say, if she consulted one? Would Grandpa be entitled to anything from the family? It might depend…
“Jamie’s disability,” Miz Callie said gently. “I take it that’s something he was born with?”
The question was asked so tenderly that Cathy couldn’t muster her usual offended response. Besides, if she wanted their help, it would come at the cost of her privacy.
“He was born with spina bifida.” She kept her voice even. “There were some other abnormalities of his hips, as well.”
Miz Callie made a small sound of distress. “He’s had surgery, has he?”
“Several times.” She had to swallow before she could keep going, remembering how painful those times had been. And how brave Jamie was. “He’s in good shape now, in comparison. The last specialist he saw seemed to think one more surgery might be all it takes for him to walk.”
“That’s good news, surely.” Miz Callie gave her a cautious sideways glance. “The father isn’t a part of his life?”
“He walked out when Jamie was a few weeks old.” She hated the sound of the bitterness in her voice. “Grandpa said he wasn’t the type to hang around, and he was right.”
“Not a thing I’d be glad to be right about,” Miz Callie observed.
It took a moment for that to register. But Miz Callie had hit the nail on the head. Grandpa had been perversely pleased to be proved right. She didn’t like thinking that.
“You have to understand,” she said hurriedly. “I let him and my grandmother down when I quit school to marry. My education was their dream.”
“It’s always dangerous to have specific dreams for your children and grandchildren. Life so often takes them in another direction. I find I have to count on the good Lord to get them to the place where they belong.”
Cathy found she was looking at Jamie, tracing the line of his cheeks, the feathery hair around his ears. “It’s hard not to want specific things for our children.”
“Hard, land, yes. We always want to be in control, don’t we? I keep reminding myself that God knows better than I do what’s good for them.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to do that.” Her prayers were more in the nature of storming Heaven for answers.

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