Family Found

She studied Mitch, then responded matter-offactly. “You can’t see his illness yet.” Again Laura smoothed back the baby’s hair. “In time you will—if he doesn’t get the bone marrow transplant, but for now he looks like any other healthy baby.”

“Hey, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But sometimes it’s hard to convince people how desperate the situation is. They see a healthy toddler and think I’m ringing premature alarms.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Mitch replied quietly.

Laura met his eyes. “That’s not why I brought you here. I just thought it might make the search more personal. More important.”

“It was already important.” Mitch took the baby’s hand, smiling when Alex curled plump fingers around his. “But I don’t mind meeting the client behind the client.”

Laura finally smiled again, then glanced down at her son. “You haven’t been a client before, have you, punkin?”

Alex squealed in answer when Laura nuzzled his cheek.

“This room is great,” Mitch commented, still struck by the artwork. Characters from fables and ancient nursery tales coexisted with fantasy characters surely drawn from a very fertile imagination.

“Thanks, I had fun doing it.”

Mitch pulled his gaze from the brilliant walls. “You painted this?”

“I wanted it to be special for him.”

“It’s that and more.” Struck again by the variance between the nondescript living room and this dazzling nursery, Mitch whistled. “You must enjoy decorating.”

“I used to.”

“But this—”

Her laugh was a self-deprecatory sound. “This is the only room in the house I’ve decorated.”

That explained it.

“When Kevin and I divorced, I left our house and everything in it.”

“That’s a rather unusual move, isn’t it?”

“For the woman you mean?” Laura concluded accurately. “It’s true. Usually men are the ones most willing to leave everything behind, to step away from any reminders of their past. But I didn’t want anything from what we’d shared.” Her grip tightened on Alex. “Except this one, of course.”

Mitch grinned. “It’s clear you got the best part of the deal.”

Surprise and something else he couldn’t quite decipher entered her softening eyes. “Absolutely.”

Alex squirmed just then, craning his head in Mitch’s direction. It almost looked like the kid was reaching toward him.

“Seems he wants you,” Laura said in surprise.

“I don’t—”

But before he could protest, Laura was handing him the toddler. Warmth, the fresh aroma of talc and softness assailed him. Awkwardly, Mitch held the baby, not certain what to do with him. His experience with children was a total zero. He turned Alex toward him, positioning him so that he could hand the child back to his mother. Just then Alex smiled. Not one of those vacant, meaningless smiles. Their eyes connected, Alex’s toothy grin one of delight.

And something warm crawled through Mitch’s insides. Something that scared the life out of him.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE WEATHERMAN HAD predicted a thunderstorm, but it hadn’t struck the city yet. The sky was graying and the air had cooled enough that the storm wasn’t an empty threat. The wind picked up errant leaves and showered them over the streets like chocolate-colored raindrops. Even though Laura liked nothing better than a stormy, windswept day, she scarcely noticed the changing atmosphere. Her mind was too full.

Had she taken the right course in hiring this cowboy detective? Or should she have taken a more conservative approach? Filled with worry, she leaned a bit longer on the doorbell than she’d intended.

The door was yanked open suddenly and Rhoda stared at her. “Is the house on fire?”

Laura managed a wan smile. “Sorry. I guess my mind was on other things.”

Rhoda studied her. “That’s understandable with all the strain you’re under. Come in, child. I’m brewing some chamomile tea.”

Tea. Her aunt Rhoda’s solution for everything. Yet there was comfort in the familiar. Laura recognized that the routine was as soothing as the actual liquid.

Trailing her aunt, she entered the kitchen, a large high-tech room. However, despite a recent, costly remodeling the room was no longer warm and inviting. While the kitchen typically represented the heart of a home, this one needed just that. It had no heart. Before renovation, Rhoda’s house had seemed cozy; now it looked as though it belonged on the slick pages of a glossy magazine. But Laura knew the house was a point of pride for her aunt. She had struggled for many years and only recently had been able to afford to improve her lifestyle.

Rhoda placed thin, fragile bone china cups on the oak table. Laura recognized them as the antique cups that had once belonged to her grandmother, cups that had been in her family for generations. That same familiar spurt of disbelief struck her. How was it that she wasn’t the product of this family? It seemed the same blood must run in her veins. Otherwise, how could the connection be so intense, so real?

“Any news?” Rhoda asked her as she filled the creamer.

“No. Actually, that’s why I’m here.”

The crash and shattering china distracted them both. Laura jumped to her feet, then knelt beside the broken pieces. “Oh, Rhoda. The creamer that came by wagon train.” Carefully, she retrieved the largest fragments. “I’ve heard about specialists who can repair broken china so that it scarcely shows a trace of the break.” Gently she handed the pieces to her aunt. “I guess we’re all feeling the strain.”

“Uh, yes, of course. Don’t worry about the creamer, Laura. It’s just china.”

Laura eyed her aunt in concern. Family heirlooms rated near the top in importance for Rhoda. Apparently, her aunt was so worried by the seriousness of Alex’s condition that the heirlooms had lost some of their importance. “Still, let’s save them.”

“All right.” Rhoda rattled around the cupboard, before settling on a small silver creamer. “I guess I can use that tea almost as much as you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

Rhoda stilled her movements. “What was that?”

“About how I should hire an attorney rather than a hotshot detective.”

Slow and deliberate, Rhoda crossed the room. “Isn’t he accomplishing what you expected?”

Laura shrugged. “I want him to have the answers yesterday and I know that’s not possible, but I just want to make sure I did the right thing in hiring him.”

Frowning, Rhoda studied her tea, adding a bit of sugar. For a few moments only the clink of the silver spoon punctuated the silence. “I realize I suggested a lawyer, but if you’re satisfied with your young man’s methods, then you should stick to your decision.”

“He’s hardly my ‘young man,’ Rhoda.”

Thin eyebrows arched in inquiry. “You could do worse.”