For Her Son's Love

by Kathryn Springer

  “Miranda, honey, thank goodness you’re back. You’d think the entire town smelled Isaac’s homemade sausage and decided to come out for breakfast this morning. Table six needs menus and table five needs a warm-up on his coffee.” Sandra fanned herself with an oven mitt and chuckled. “It’s Monday. Definitely.”

  Sandra was the only person Miranda knew who could have half a dozen things go wrong the minute the diner opened and still be able to waltz serenely around the kitchen.

  The deliveryman who dropped off the dairy order every morning hadn’t shown up, so Sandra had sent Miranda to the grocery store to purchase enough whipping cream to hold them over until he arrived.

  She set the package down and slipped off her sweater. The one Darcy had suggested she retire. Instead, she’d fixed the button.

  “Look, Mom! Isaac is letting me flip the pancakes all by myself!” Daniel called to her from his station by the grill, wrapped up like a mummy in an apron three sizes too big for him.

  Miranda forced a smile. Too bad Sandra’s serenity couldn’t be bottled and sold like the whipping cream she’d bought. The conversation she’d overheard between Sandra and Andrew had kept her awake the past two nights.

  Two years ago, she’d almost taken Daniel and left Chestnut Grove in the wake of the scandal at Tiny Blessings. Even though she trusted Daniel’s adoption had been perfectly legal, so had many other people who’d found out just the opposite. Barnaby Harcourt’s blackmail schemes were all the customers had talked about for months. Fortunately, when Sandra had hired her, Sandra, like everyone else, had assumed Daniel was Miranda’s son. With their brown hair and eyes, they even looked alike.

  She took comfort in the fact no one knew Daniel had originally been adopted through Tiny Blessings. And even though Kelly’s husband, Ross, had begun the painstaking process of sorting through falsified birth certificates and adoption records, Miranda had decided the best thing was to stay in Chestnut Grove to keep an eye on his findings.

  She’d finally started to let her guard down and now this. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lose Daniel.

  “I know someone who’s going to have a job here in a few years,” Sandra said, pausing to drop a kiss on the top of Daniel’s head.

  If we’re still here.

  Some people, Miranda knew—like Darcy—had their lives planned out for the next fifty years. Miranda had learned to accept she couldn’t be that kind of person. Experience had taught her that she couldn’t trust tomorrow. It shifted like a sandbar, leaving her scrambling for something solid.

  “Look at this one,” Daniel said. “It’s not very round but Isaac says that’s okay.”

  “You’re doing great, Daniel.” Miranda couldn’t help responding to the excitement in her son’s voice. She knew that flipping pancakes wasn’t the only reason Daniel had popped out of bed with a smile on his face that morning.

  It was the first day of Sonshine Camp and Daniel had been thrilled when she’d told him he could spend an hour with her at the diner before leaving for the church.

  True to her word, Sandra had found a ride for Daniel. Leah Cavanaugh’s daughter, Olivia, planned to attend the day camp, too. Leah had assured Miranda when she’d called the night before that it was no trouble to pick up Daniel on her way.

  “It’s almost time for you to go, Daniel,” she reminded him. “You should watch out the window for Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

  “I think he should stay here and help me this morning,” Isaac said. “He’ll be a short-order cook in no time.”

  “Can I take it out?” Daniel asked eagerly.

  “Sure can. You made them,” Isaac said before Miranda could protest. “Let me slide these eggs on the plate—gotta be careful so the yolks don’t break. Now grab the tray with both hands. Steady. There you go.”

  Miranda followed Daniel through the doors, catching them before they swung back and knocked him over.

  In the twenty minutes she’d been gone, the diner had filled to capacity.

  Oh, no. Miranda’s heart smacked against her rib cage. Andrew Noble sat in the booth by the window. In her section. Again. He was on his way to becoming a permanent fixture at the diner. Or, at least, one of their “regulars.”

  She stifled a groan, still uncertain about the strange mixture of feelings the sight of him stirred in her.

  He was scanning the morning edition of the Gazette, oblivious to covert glances from female customers.

  “Hey, Miranda! Can I get a couple of those blueberry muffins to go?” A woman in running clothes waved her napkin to get Miranda’s attention. Unfortunately, she got Daniel’s attention, too. He turned slightly and the tray wobbled. Instead of pausing to adjust to the shift in weight, he kept moving forward, which sent the heavy stoneware plate on a downward course toward the end of the tray.

  Miranda, only a few steps behind him, saw exactly what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it. The plate bumped against the edge of the tray and the food kept going. Three buttermilk pancakes and two eggs over easy went airborne. And landed on Andrew Noble’s shoes.

  “Mom!” Daniel whispered the word and the terrified look on his face brought her quickly to his side. She wrapped her arm around his trembling shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze.

  “It’s okay, Daniel,” she murmured. “It was an accident.”

  Which was the truth, although she wasn’t sure if a man like Andrew Noble would see it from that perspective. Especially when the accident involved egg yolks and Italian leather.

  When she gathered her courage to look at Andrew, he was staring at them with an inscrutable look on his face. Then, he grinned.

  “Ah…Daniel? I’ve decided to change my order. I’d like my eggs scrambled, please.”

  Then he gave Daniel a cheerful wink.

  Pure, unadulterated relief coursed through Andrew. He’d just flown in from Florida an hour ago, where he’d spent a grueling twenty-four hours stuffed in the back of an unair-conditioned van while he’d tried to pinpoint the destination of an unpredictable ex-con and a frightened six-year-old.

  That particular story had had a happy ending but he hadn’t stayed to witness it. He never did. There were people who tied up the loose ends for him and smiled for the six o’clock news team. It was enough for him just to know.

  At the moment, adrenaline and a Thermos of the pilot’s coffee he’d had earlier—so thick with coffee grounds he’d been tempted to ask for a fork—were the only things keeping him awake.

  His plan had been to shower, change his clothes and report for duty at the Foundation. Instead, he’d sat in his car outside the Starlight Diner for fifteen minutes, debating whether or not he should go inside. He was pathetic. Torn between wanting to see Miranda and having to face the fact she might be in a committed relationship with a guy named Daniel.

  And she was.

  Except the Daniel waiting for Miranda to come home on Friday night was her son.

  Even without swim goggles covering most of the serious little face, Andrew immediately recognized the boy whose towel he’d pulled out of the bicycle chain a few days ago. And now that the two were side by side, he could see the faint resemblance.

  Both had glossy brown hair and delicate features almost eclipsed by enormous brown eyes, but while Miranda’s held fascinating glints of gold, Daniel’s were as dark as espresso.

  Even though he’d tried to defuse the tension with humor, both pairs of eyes were still fixed on him. And filled with apprehension.

  “Daniel…run and get a bucket and a rag from Isaac,” Miranda murmured.

  She pulled a cache of napkins out of her apron pocket and looked down at his shoes, her intention clear.

  Not in this lifetime.

  “I’ll take care of it, Miranda.” Andrew reached out and caught her hand. He hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt but he couldn’t understand the fear radiating from her. What did she expect him to do? Shout “Off with their heads”?

  Miranda yanked her hand away.

  �
�I’m sorry, Mr. Noble. Daniel loves to help in the kitchen and…well, I’ll pay to have your shoes cleaned or replaced.”

  She’d just insulted him and didn’t even know it. Andrew drew in a breath and released it. Slowly. “That’s not necessary. It was an accident.”

  Daniel returned with the bucket and Andrew gave him another smile as he gently removed it from the boy’s hands. Miranda made a sound of protest. He ignored her.

  “I didn’t know you worked here, Daniel.” He unbuttoned his cuffs and pushed his sleeves back. It only took three efficient swipes to remove the goo from his shoes. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Or is this a cover?”

  “My mom works here.” Daniel giggled.

  He’d obviously remembered Andrew, too, and he didn’t look as scared as he had a few minutes ago.

  “How are the knees? All healed up?”

  “Better.” Daniel hiked up the hems of his cargo shorts a few inches to let Andrew inspect them.

  “They look pretty good.”

  Miranda frowned at him, her expression wary. “How did you—”

  “I happened to be there when his beach towel and his bicycle chain decided to get acquainted,” Andrew explained.

  Daniel nodded vigorously. “He got it unstuck.”

  “Oh.” Miranda caught her full lower lip between her teeth while she processed that unexpected news.

  “Miranda?” Sandra hurried over to them, her round cheeks flushed with color from all the activity in the diner. “Leah’s waiting outside.”

  Andrew watched Miranda scrub an invisible speck of dirt off Daniel’s chin while he stood as still as a statue and took it like a man. Andrew remembered his mom doing the same thing. “Be good today,” she said. “And have fun. Mrs. Cavanaugh is bringing you back here when camp is over, so be sure to watch for her.”

  Andrew gave Daniel a thumbs-up sign behind Miranda’s back, as he took off his apron and grabbed his backpack.

  “Okay, Mom.” Daniel gave Andrew another shy smile before darting away, his backpack bouncing with every step.

  “He’ll have a great time,” Sandra reassured Miranda as Leah waved to them from the other side of the window.

  “I know. It’s all he could talk about over the weekend.”

  “Sonshine Camp,” Andrew guessed.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “I got an e-mail from Caleb Williams. He needed a few more volunteers this week.”

  “I’ll have to call Anne and ask her if there’s anything I can do.” Sandra jotted a note to herself on the back of her order pad. “And Andrew, I’ll bring you another pancake special. On the house.”

  She bustled away but Miranda lingered. At least she wasn’t running in the opposite direction. If sacrificing a pair of shoes got her to talk to him, he wasn’t about to complain.

  “Thank you for not yelling at Daniel,” she finally said.

  He frowned. What kind of jerk did she think he was?

  “They’re just shoes, Miranda.”

  He saw it then. The shadow that darkened her eyes told him there’d been someone in Daniel’s life who wouldn’t have seen it that way.

  His stomach tightened.

  Daniel’s father?

  The thought of anyone mistreating Miranda and her son sent a surge of anger coursing through him. He quickly conquered it. If he wanted to convince Miranda Jones that she shouldn’t lump all men into the same category with the man who’d hurt her, he had to win her over with something she wasn’t used to receiving.

  Understanding.

  Miranda froze, struck by the compassion she saw in Andrew’s eyes. As if her words had somehow given him access to her heart and he could see the damage there.

  Damage caused by trusting the wrong man.

  Look at him, Miranda. His eyes are bloodshot and he didn’t even take time to shave this morning. It’s obvious he’s been up all night. And he probably wasn’t alone….

  “I have to get back to work.” Miranda grabbed the bucket and escaped to the kitchen.

  She wasn’t going to think about Andrew Noble. Or talk about Andrew Noble….

  “Andrew is a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

  Miranda’s mouth fell open as Sandra coasted past her, a knowing smile on her face.

  “A sweetheart?” She almost choked on the word.

  “I could see he’s got a soft spot for children, couldn’t you?”

  No, Miranda wanted to shout. But then she remembered the friendly wink he’d given Daniel. And the serious appraisal of his skinned knees.

  “Maybe.” Reluctant, but the best she could do.

  “And Kelly mentioned how much Rachel appreciates him taking over the Foundation while she’s on bed rest,” Sandra continued, an innocent twinkle in her eyes.

  In between jaunts to Monaco and St. Bart’s.

  “I suppose.” He had come to help. She couldn’t deny it.

  “Loyalty.” Sandra gave a brisk nod. “It’s a good quality and one you don’t see often enough these days.”

  Sure it was. In a golden retriever. With his ink-black hair and lethal smile, Andrew reminded her more of a predator than a docile house pet.

  “I’ve got to take this out.” Miranda reached for the plate of pancakes on the pass-through, stifling a groan when she realized she’d picked up the replica of Andrew’s first breakfast.

  Isaac lifted a brow at Sandra when the doors closed behind Miranda.

  “You aren’t matchmaking, are you?” he asked suspiciously. “’Cause you and I both know that young lady’s hiding some awful hurts.”

  Sandra pretended to be shocked. “I’d never do that.”

  Isaac didn’t look convinced. “Why not?”

  “Because I never try to get in the Lord’s way, that’s why not. And I have a hunch He’s got something of His own in the works.”

  Chapter Six

  You reap what you sow.

  The words came back to Ross as he surveyed the papers fanned out on his desk in a spare office at Tiny Blessings.

  They were true enough for Barnaby Harcourt. The man had been without a conscience and in the end he’d paid for the web of deceit he’d created. With his life.

  Ross knew it wasn’t his place to judge, but faced with another batch of evidence of the man’s greed, anger coiled in his chest. Because of Harcourt, a lot of innocent people were going to have their lives changed. Some for the better and some for the worse.

  There was a light rap on the door and Eric Pellegrino, Tiny Blessings’ assistant director, poked his head in. “Ben Cavanaugh is here. He said you wanted to talk to him.”

  Ross rose to his feet. At least, in Ben’s case, it might be for the better. But even that depended on the woman who was going about her life, not knowing she was a phone call away from coming face-to-face with her past.

  “Ross.” Ben stretched out his calloused hand and shook Ross’s over the desk. “I got your message.”

  “Did Leah come with you?” Ross had been hoping Ben’s wife had come along. Ben’s faith, like his own, had grown over the past few years but Ross still didn’t know what he’d do without Kelly’s loving wisdom in his life. He figured it was the same way for Ben and Leah.

  Ben shook his head. “She’s volunteering at Sonshine Camp this week. I left a voice mail on her phone, but I decided to swing by as soon as I could.”

  Ross understood. He’d tried unsuccessfully to track down Ben’s biological mother until two years ago, when Ben had finally told him he should concentrate on some of the other families whose records Barnaby had changed. Ross knew it had cost Ben a lot to give up the search and hoped what he had to tell him now would make up for it.

  So far, word hadn’t leaked to the press about the documents Jonah had discovered but Ross knew it was only a matter of time. Jared Kierney, a reporter for the Gazette, had found out and was champing at the bit to get the story out. Meg, Jared’s wife, was the only reason he’d agreed to sit on it for a while. Over the past few years, Ke
lly had been absorbed into Meg’s group of friends, who met at the Starlight for brunch every Sunday.

  “I take it you found something.”

  Ben’s not-so-subtle prompt pushed him back on track.

  “What Jonah found was a copy of your original birth certificate. According to the records, your mother’s maiden name is Cunningham. I did a little digging over the weekend and from what I’ve been able to find out, she was a college student when you were born.” Ross sighed. This was where things got sticky. “Have you heard of Cunningham Publishing?”

  Ben was silent for a few seconds and then shook his head. “No.”

  “It’s a Christian publishing house in Maryland. The Cunningham family is very conservative—and very well known. Your mother was an English major when you were born.”

  Ben connected the dots quickly. “She was supposed to get involved in the family business. And I got in the way.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Ross cautioned. “Let’s just say, for now, that Millicent somehow heard of Barnaby Harcourt, who placed you with your parents. It could be, Harcourt changed your records—for his usual price—and then started to blackmail her. Millicent eventually married a man named Ralph Watson. They have four children together.”

  Ben sucked in a breath. Strange. In the search for his birth mother, he’d never considered he might have siblings.

  “Ralph Watson.” Ben repeated the name. “I wonder if he knows about…me.”

  Ross moved some papers on his desk and handed one to Ben. “Here’s your chance to find out. This is the phone number. The Watsons still live in Maryland.”

  She didn’t miss him.

  It was impossible to miss someone you didn’t know.

  “I wonder where Andrew’s been the past few days,” Sandra said.

  Miranda tore her gaze away from the empty booth by the window and felt her cheeks get warm, wondering if Sandra could read her thoughts. “I have no idea. I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

  Sandra hid a smile. “Is Daniel enjoying camp?”

  “He can’t stop talking about it. Yesterday, he brought home a plaster cast of his handprint. If he memorizes the verses that go along with the crafts, he gets a special prize at the end of the week.”