“Mummy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Kiwi told me.
“Your mummy is right, Daniel,” I told him.
He cocked his head to one side. “You know my name.”
“Yes, I do. I also know that today is your birthday, so I’m not really a stranger, am I?”
“I s'pose not.” He lumbered down the steps and approached the gate hesitantly. “Do you know my mummy, too?” he asked.
“Quite well.” I reached up and removed my helmet, and Kiwi smiled broadly.
“Daddy!”
105
Lynne
I looked around. “Where’s Kiwi?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
“He’s outside talking to that man,” one of the kids told me.
“Man?” I panicked. I grabbed the handgun from the drawer and ran to the door, my heart racing. There was my son, in the arms of a stranger. I could only see the back of his head. I ran out the door, gun raised.
“Put him down or I’ll blow your head off!” I shouted.
The man only laughed. “Not the welcome I was hoping for, but I suppose it’s to be expected,” he said as he turned to face me.
“Daddy’s home, Mummy!” Kiwi laughed, hugging his father.
I couldn’t believe it. It was Connor. He looked ten years older. There were deep lines around his eyes. “Oh, dear God!” I gasped—and burst into tears.
“Bloody hell, woman—you were crying when I left and you’re still crying. Are you happy to see me or not?” he asked.
Tim grabbed the gun from my hand as I flew off the porch and ran to Connor, hugging him tightly. “What happened?” I asked. “Where have you been? I heard about Edward—I was afraid they’d killed you, too. Are you all right?”
“All valid questions, but I’m unable to answer them all at once,” he said as we headed back to the house. He had one arm around me and held Kiwi in the other. “It took me weeks to locate you. I’ve been traveling for the better part of a week, darlin’. I could really use a hot bath and a bit of rest.”
“Anything you want,” I told him.
He grinned. “You haven’t gone and remarried while I was away, have you?”
“You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day I met you,” I teased. “Why on earth would I want to go through that with another man?”
He paused at the top of the steps and faced me. “You were right, love,” he said softly.
I gave him a questioning look in response.
“About everything.”
I didn’t need to hear the words. I saw it in his eyes. He’d found the truth.
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About the Authors
Norma Beishir can’t remember a time when she wanted to be anything other than a novelist. Growing up on a farm with mostly animals for companionship, she learned to use her imagination to entertain herself. In school, she often got into trouble for writing stories in class. When she went off to college, her mother encouraged her writing; her father advised her to have a backup plan in case “the writing thing” didn’t work out—but she figured having a Plan B would make it too easy to give up, so there was no Plan B. While working at a large advertising agency (a clerical position—again, there could be no Plan B), she queried an agent, who took her on. Within a year, she’d sold three novels for a six-figure sum. Chasing the Wind is her fifteenth novel.
Collin Beishir didn’t plan on becoming a novelist. He entertained a number of potential career paths, but this wasn’t on the shortlist. He started out doing research for his mother. But geek that he is, he found himself contributing ideas, suggestions, and muffled laughter when she was going too far out there with an idea. He became her collaborator before he knew it. For the record, he would have liked the security of a Plan B. Working with her on Chasing the Wind made him start thinking of characters and plots of his own, which inspired a solo project for him, ELE—Extinction Level Event, which is taking him longer to complete than expected. He does have a Plan B of sorts. Somebody has to be thinking of the future.
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