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A Family for Thanksgiving
Patricia Davids
After a devastating tornado ripped through High Plains, a two-year-old was found wandering all alone. Foster mother Nicki Appleton took in the little girl, her heart bursting with love and prayers. Now the storm's aftermath has brought home the man Nicki once expected to marry, and Clay Logan claims to be a changed cowboy.But with her energy focused on a child she may not be able to keep, is there room for another kind of love in Nicki's heart this Thanksgiving?



“What will you do if you have to give up Kasey?”
A chill settled around Nicki’s heart. “I don’t know. I hope that I’ll rejoice because it means she’ll be reunited with her family.”

“But the truth is?” Clay prompted.

Nicki smiled sadly. “The truth is—it will break my heart into a million pieces.”

Glancing at Clay through suddenly tear-filled eyes, Nicki knew he’d heard the catch in her voice. She hoped he hadn’t seen her eyes mist over at the thought of losing Kasey.

He said softly, “You love her. You want what’s best for her—even if that isn’t a life with you.”

Meeting his gaze, Nicki realized the brash, reckless boy she’d known had changed in more ways than she’d given him credit for. He’d become an insightful man capable of understanding the feelings of others.

After the Storm:
A Kansas community unites to rebuild

Healing the Boss’s Heart—Valerie Hansen
July 2009

Marrying Minister Right—Annie Jones
August 2009

Rekindled Hearts—Brenda Minton
September 2009

The Matchmaking Pact—Carolyne Aarsen
October 2009

A Family for Thanksgiving—Patricia Davids
November 2009

Jingle Bell Babies—Kathryn Springer
December 2009
PATRICIA DAVIDS
Patricia Davids continues to work as a part-time nurse in the NICU while writing full-time. She enjoys researching new stories, traveling to new locations and meeting fans along the way. She and her husband of thirty-two years live in Wichita, Kansas, along with the newest addition to the household, a stray cat named Spooky. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can contact her by mail at P.O. Box 16714, Wichita, Kansas 67216, or visit her on the Web at www.patriciadavids.com.

A Family for Thanksgiving
Patricia Davids


Special thanks and acknowledgment to Patricia Davids for her contribution to the After the Storm miniseries.
Cast your cares on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.
—Psalms 55:22
This book is dedicated with respect and deep
admiration to the people of Chapman, Kansas.
Go Irish!

Contents
Prologue
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
Questions for Discussion

Prologue
July 10, 4:04 p.m.
“It’s only a thunderstorm. It’ll be over soon.”
Huddled in the basement of the High Plains Community Church with her preschool class and numerous townspeople, Nicki Appleton tried to maintain a brave front for her kids. The howling wind sounded as if it were trying to rip the building apart. The old wooden structure shuddered and groaned over their heads in protest.
The lights flickered. Some of the children around her whimpered with fear.
“Don’t be scared.” One of Nicki’s students, three-year-old Layla Logan, was patting the shoulder of a little girl sitting beside her.
Nicki couldn’t help but smile at the child’s motherly tone. Maya Logan would be proud of her brave little daughter.
Glancing at the small basement window near the top of the wall, all Nicki could see were the limbs of the nearby cedar trees thrashing wildly and the greenish-gray sky beyond. A flash followed by a deafening clap of thunder made her jump.
Suddenly, hail began pelting the roof and bouncing off the ground outside the window. In a matter of seconds, marble-size chunks of ice were filling the window well.
Even by Kansas standards, this was a wicked storm.
At least her car wasn’t getting hammered in the parking lot outside. Nicki breathed a quick prayer of thanks that she had chosen to walk to work leaving her car safely under the carport at her apartment.
Then abruptly, the wind and hail stopped. Nicki tensed. Something wasn’t right.
The thought had barely formed in her mind when a great roar began. Like a dozen jet engines bearing down on them, the sound filled the church basement, drowning out the frightened cries of the people sheltering there.
Tornado!
Nicki pulled the youngest children closer to her, sheltering them with her body. Her ears popped in the intense pressure change. Dust filled the air. The lights went out. People screamed.
The roar went on and on until Nicki thought she would scream, too. It seemed like forever but, in reality, it only lasted a few minutes. Finally, the noise died away, and the sounds of the children’s crying rose in volume.
“I’m scared.”
“Turn on the lights, Miss Appleton.”
“It’s okay.” Nicki used her calm teacher voice, although she felt anything but. Her heart was hammering hard enough to jump out of her body.
Close by in the darkness, Josie Cane added her reassurances to her daycare group. “It’s fine. Everyone sit quietly, please.”
Nicki fumbled, with shaking hands, for the flashlight in her emergency kit. Locating the plastic cylinder, she snapped it on.
The sudden bright circle of light showed her a dozen frightened, tear-streaked faces looking to her guidance. A sweep around the room revealed neighbors and friends taking stock of themselves and each other. Josie had her arms around her eight-year-old niece, Alyssa, planting a kiss on the girl’s cheek.
Everyone seemed okay.
Thank You, dear Lord.
Nicki forced herself to smile at her class. “Wow! That was scary, wasn’t it? Is everyone all right?”
Most of the children nodded. Layla, her brown eyes wide with fright, had her arms clasped around her crying friend. The Baker twins were still covering their ears with their hands. Together, they sobbed, “I want Mommy. I wanna go home.”
Josie’s flashlight snapped on next. She said, “We need to stay here a little longer.”
The two women exchanged knowing glances. They didn’t dare lead the children upstairs until they were sure it was safe. Nicki had no idea what awaited them.
The church’s minister, Michael Garrison, quickly assumed charge. “Everyone stay put until we check things out.”
He headed for the stairs followed by two other men. After several long, tense minutes, Michael returned and approached Nicki and Josie. His face registered such shock that Nicki bit her lower lip in trepidation. “How bad is it?”
“Really bad. The town took a direct hit, but at least the church and school building are intact.”
Nicki stood on trembling legs. “Do you think it’s safe to take the kids to their classroom? I think they’ll be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”
“That’s a good idea. We’ll need this space to set up an emergency shelter.”
“Why not use the carriage house?” she asked, knowing the building behind the church had been converted into a family shelter for emergencies several years ago.
“It’s gone. Completely destroyed.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “But it’s only a dozen yards from here.”
“We were spared by the grace of God. There’s no doubt about that.”
Pressing a hand to her forehead, she started to turn away, but he grasped her arm. “Nicki, I know you must be worried about your home and your mother, but I need you to stay with the children—I don’t know for how long.”
Understanding all that he didn’t say, she nodded. “My mother is out of town, thank Heaven. I’ll stay as long as any of the kids need me.”
Once upstairs, Nicki and Josie struggled to keep the scared children calm in the preschool room until their parents came for them. Nicki’s friend, Maya Logan, was among the first to arrive. She snatched up Layla and covered her face with kisses.
Although Nicki was happy to see Maya was safe, the damage she described made Nicki sick to her stomach. It seemed that much of the downtown was in ruins.
With each new arrival, Nicki learned more about the destruction. Nearly half of High Plains had sustained serious damage. Power lines were down, even the cell-phone towers were off-line. Many streets were blocked by debris, including the bridge over the river, the main highway into town. Rescue teams had to travel miles out of their way to reach the stricken area.
The one bright note she heard was that the area of town where she lived had been spared.
Nearly two hours after the tornado struck, Reverend Michael found time to check on Nicki and her charges. Noting his disheveled appearance as he entered the preschool room, she asked, “How’s it going?”
“Outside help is beginning to arrive. We’ve got a medical triage tent set up on the lawn. There are a lot of injuries.”
“Any fatalities?” she asked softly, not wanting the children to overhear.
“Not so far, but some of the town and outlying areas haven’t been searched. Apparently, there was more than one twister in this storm.”
“Have you seen Josie? Alyssa and her little friend, Lily Marstow, slipped away from us. Josie went to look for them.”
“I saw them all with Silas Marstow a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, good.” Nicki sagged with relief, happy to know her friend and the children were okay. Lily’s father, Silas, was the only parent that hadn’t been accounted for. She crossed his name off the list she’d made.
Michael looked at the half-dozen children playing around the room. “I see you still have a few kids left.”
“Some people opted to leave their little ones here knowing they’re in a safe place. They’ve gone out to help family and friends. I don’t mind watching the children. I’m happy to help any way I can.”
“What you’re doing is deeply appreciated.”
Nicki nodded toward four children playing with hand puppets in the corner. “The Jensen girls and the Baker twins don’t have homes left. Their parents are trying to make arrangements of some kind for tonight.”
“I’ll speak to them. We still have a few empty cots in the basement. Shall I send Avery in to give you a hand?”
Nicki shook her head, declining the help of his fourteen-year-old niece. “I’m fine, but thanks for the offer.”
“Okay, I’ll put her to work elsewhere. I’d better get back. There is so much to do….” His weary voice trailed away as he walked out.
It was another hour before the last of her students had been handed over to family members. When they were all gone, Nicki walked outside the church with trepidation.
She had been right to be scared. She barely recognized the town she’d lived in all her life. Shredded insulation hung like tattered pink flags from the remains of broken, leafless trees. Whole houses were simply missing. Unrecognizable twisted pieces of metal, broken lumber and fallen masonry blocked much of Main Street. People were wandering around in a state of shock.
A TV news crew from a nearby city had set up beside a mobile van and were interviewing survivors and filming the wreckage. Help in the form of firefighters, ambulances and heavy equipment had begun pouring in. The sounds of sirens filled the evening air.
Walking toward the park, Nicki saw that the Old Town Hall had been reduced to a pile of rubble. It broke her heart to see the historic site in ruins, but it wasn’t until she saw the leveled gazebo in the center of the park that tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks.
Her special place was gone.
An elderly woman, looking lost and confused, stopped beside Nicki. Grasping a broken umbrella in one hand and a battered fedora in the other, the woman said, “I can’t find my husband. Frank never goes out without his hat.”
Nicki put her own pain aside when she saw the woman was bleeding from a deep gash on her forearm. Ignoring the newsman that had run over to snap their picture, Nicki gently said, “I’ll help you find him, but let’s get you fixed up first.”
“I don’t know where he could have gone.”
Taking the woman’s elbow, Nicki led her back to the church grounds where the triage tent had been erected on the lawn. As Nicki turned her charge over to a paramedic at the scene, a tall gray-haired man with a bandage on his forehead rushed forward and engulfed the woman in a fierce hug.
Nicki swallowed around the lump in her throat.
Thank You, Lord, for this one happy ending. Please let there be many more.
Stepping out of the tent, Nicki saw a group of women manning tables of food and drinks for the rescue workers and residents. When one waved her over, Nicki gladly joined them. She simply couldn’t go home. Not when there was so much to be done.
Many long hours later, a bleary-eyed Reverend Garrison accepted a sandwich from her and said, “It’s after four o’clock in the morning, Nicki. You should go home. There’ll be plenty of work left to do tomorrow.”
Wearily, she nodded. “You’re right.”
“I’ll get one of the police to take you.”
“They have enough to do. It’s only a short walk.”
He started to argue, but someone called him away for yet another emergency.
Nicki left the churchyard and trudged toward her duplex with exhaustion pulling at every fiber in her body. She was only halfway home when her flashlight blinked out.
“Oh, not now!” She banged it against her palm, but it stubbornly remained dark. Like her town, or what was left of her town. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the city without a single light glowing anywhere.
When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she realized the three-quarter moon in the sky offered just enough illumination to let her navigate. She started walking again, skirting the downed limbs and debris that littered the roadway.
The sounds of sirens and chain saws had finally begun to lessen. The prevailing odor of diesel fumes was beginning to dissipate, leaving only the smells of wet wood, churned dirt and mangled cedars to tint the muggy night air.
When she finally reached her apartment, she stopped and stared in disbelief. The tall maple tree in her front yard was lying uprooted as if pushed over by a giant hand. Its gnarled roots fanned into the air like a grotesque skirt. Part of its branches rested on her half of the duplex’s roof.
She glanced at her neighbor’s dark front window. She knew Lori Martin, a nurse at a hospital in nearby Manhattan, had gone to work the previous morning. Given the number of injuries that had been transported to the bigger medical center and the state of the roads, Nicki wondered if Lori had made it home.
Nicki decided against knocking to check. If her neighbor had gotten back into town, there was no sense waking her up at this hour to point out a fallen tree that Lori would have seen for herself.
Bracing herself to discover the worst inside her own place, Nicki walked around the gaping hole in the lawn and up her steps. Inside the house, it was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Was that a blessing?
After locating spare batteries in a drawer in the kitchen, she managed to replace the ones in her flashlight. Holding her breath, she clicked the button.
The burst of light showed a room that looked exactly as she’d left it the previous morning when she hurried out the door to her preschool class. The sight was so welcome that tears stung her eyes.
Making her way through her small apartment, she found the living room and bathroom were also intact. Opening the door to her bedroom, she discovered she hadn’t completely escaped the storm’s wrath. A tree limb jutted through her window.
The branch had knocked everything off the top of her dresser. Cherished mementos, photos and odds and ends were broken and scattered about. The carpet was wet from the rain that had blown in. Wearily she gathered up her smashed treasures and placed them on her bedside stand. Those that couldn’t be salvaged she threw into the trash can along with the broken shards of window glass.
Straightening, her flashlight caught the reflection of something bright behind the leaves on the dresser top. She stepped closer and saw it was a silver heart-shaped frame—the one photo she should have tossed out years ago.
Picking it up, she turned it over surprised to find the glass intact and the picture undamaged. It was her senior-prom photo. Nicki sat on her bed and stared at the couple in the snapshot. Had she really been that young, that carefree?
The strapless blue dress and upswept hairdo were meant to make a giggling teenager look mature. In retrospect she looked silly, but Clay Logan, Maya’s brother, in his cowboy hat and Western suit looked incredibly handsome. His deep blue eyes surveyed the world as if he owned it all, including her heart.
Before now, all that remained of that magical high school night was this photo and the old gazebo in the park—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and experienced the giddy rush of teenage hormones. Even though she was the one who’d called a halt to their passion before it went too far, she believed that Clay understood and respected her. She knew in her heart that their kiss was the beginning of something special between them.
Her girlish, romantic illusions came to an abrupt end the following day, when she learned Clay had left town without a word to her.
To say she had been crushed was an understatement. More than anything, she had considered Clay her friend.
“Friends don’t run out on friends without saying goodbye,” she muttered.
But he had gone. Now, the old gazebo was gone, too. Blown to bits by the vicious wind.
Snapping off the light, Nicki pressed the cold metal picture frame to her chest. She was too weary to face an old heartbreak.
Yet maybe this was the time to face it. To let go of the last bit of hope that wouldn’t die. She was a practical, twenty-five-year-old woman not a naive eighteen-year-old kid. Clay wasn’t coming back.
Turning the frame over again, she removed the backing. A postcard fell into her lap. She didn’t need the flashlight to read it, she knew it by heart. The postmark said Amarillo, there was only one line written in Clay’s bold hand: You’re better off without me.
He was so right. She was better off without a man who broke her heart to go wandering the country.
Nicki turned her flashlight back on and stared at the picture in her hand. Enough wallowing in the past. It was time to look to the future. There was a whole lot of rebuilding to be done.
Tossing the framed photo and postcard into the trash on top of the shattered window glass, Nicki lay down on her bed to grab a few hours of sleep.
She dreamed about the howling wind and Clay Logan’s bright blue eyes.

For the next two days, Nicki was simply too busy helping with the cleanup of her town to think about the photo she’d thrown away. Her few broken treasures seemed trivial compared to the losses she saw around her. Dozens of her neighbors had lost everything. Sadly, Maya Logan’s sister-in-law, Marie, had lost her life. Working side by side with volunteers who’d come from all over to help, Nicki gained a new appreciation for the kindness that strangers could bestow on those in need and for the resilient spirit of the people of High Plains.
The ring of her cell phone offered her a break from the hot, exhausting job of carrying tree limbs and broken boards to a waiting dump truck. Pulling off her gloves, she extracted the phone from her pocket. The phone company had gotten one of their towers back online the day after the storm, allowing for cellular service, but the city was still without land lines or electricity. She flipped open her cell and said, “Hello?”
“Nicki, I’m glad to hear your voice. Are you all right? This is just so terrible.” It was Emma Barnet, a social worker Nicki knew well and had worked with on several occasions.
“I’m fine. I had one broken window. How about you?”
“It missed our house by a mile. I’m happy you’re okay, because this is an official call. A toddler was brought into the hospital the night of the tornado. A little girl about fifteen months old. We haven’t been able to locate her parents or any family. No one knows who she is. She was found by the old cottages near the river.”
“No one has claimed a child? That’s unbelievable!”
“The authorities are working on identifying her, but it may take a while since she isn’t old enough to give us a name. I know this is an imposition at a time like this, but the hospital is over capacity. I’m swamped with people who need placement and every kind of help.”
“Tell me what I can do.”
Sighing, Emma said, “Bless you, Nicki. I don’t want to send this little girl out of the area if I don’t have to. Is there any way you can foster her until we find her family?”
Nicki didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“Great. Since you’ve fostered babies before, the paperwork will be minimal. We’re calling her Kasey for now because she had the initials K.C. inside her shirt. She’s got a nasty bump on her head plus scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. We should be able to release her from the hospital in a day or two.”
“Then I should start coming by to visit so she can get used to me before I take her home. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“That sounds perfect. If anything changes, I’ll call.”
Snapping the phone shut, Nicki looked at the unbelievable devastation around her. Out of all this sorrow there had to come something good. Perhaps this unknown little girl would be it.

Chapter One
October 27
Clay Logan had barely stepped down from his horse before Mrs. Dewey threw her arms around him again.
“Thank you, Clay. Thank you so very, very much.”
His neck was going to have a permanent crick in it if she didn’t let up soon.
Her husband, standing beside the second trail horse, lifted his seven-year-old daughter, Karen, out of the saddle. Walking over, he grabbed Clay’s hand in a vicelike grip and began pumping it up and down. “We owe you a debt of gratitude that we’ll never be able to repay.”
Clay’s boss, Hollister Dodd, owner of the Canadian Wilderness Guide Service, had come out onto the wide porch of the lodge at the Chilihota Ranch. He watched the return of his clients from their packhorse excursion with a puzzled expression on his face.
“It was nothing, ma’am. Honest,” Clay managed to mutter past Mrs. Dewey’s stranglehold.
She took a step back. “I don’t know how you can say that. You saved our daughter’s life!”
“What’s this?” Hollister came forward to take the reins of Mrs. Dewey’s horse.
“Tanner pushed me in the lake.” Safe in her father’s arms, Karen, a blond-haired, blue-eyed pixie and the bane of Clay’s existence for the last two weeks, scowled at her older brother still sitting on his horse.
“It was an accident,” fourteen-year-old Tanner mumbled.
Something in his tone caught Clay’s attention and brought back memories of his own childhood. His brother, Jesse, used to sound just like that when he was explaining why Clay had landed in trouble while Jesse was supposed to be watching him.
Hollister’s gaze focused on Clay. “When did this happen?”
Mr. Dewey spoke up quickly. “Please don’t think Clay was negligent in any way. We made camp last evening at White Lake. The kids were horsing around on that big boulder that juts out like a ship’s prow. Clay cautioned them several times to get off the rock.”
He had, but little miss daredevil just had to see how close to the edge she could get. In a way, she reminded Clay of himself at that age. No wonder Jesse had been glad to see the last of him.
Hollister relaxed once he realized the family didn’t intend to sue him for all he was worth. Stepping up to Mr. Dewey, he ruffled Karen’s hair. “I’ll bet it was a cold dip.”
She nodded, and Clay had to agree. His dive from the rock ledge fifteen feet up had plunged him deep into the frigid waters of the snow-fed lake. The shock all but paralyzed his muscles. Even now, he marveled that he’d managed to reach the girl in the icy depths and find the strength to get them both to shore.
Mrs. Dewey pressed her hand to her heart as tears welled up in her eyes. “When Karen fell, Clay didn’t hesitate. He jumped in to save her. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t acted so quickly.” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t go on.
Her husband reached out to draw her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, her arms encircling both her husband and her child. Mr. Dewey said, “Karen can’t swim. Clay saved her life.”
In spite of their praise, Clay knew he hadn’t done it alone.
Even now, he wasn’t sure he trusted what he’d felt, but it had been as real as the icy water around him. Deep beneath the surface, at the moment all his energy had been sapped and he was sure Karen was lost forever, a healing presence had come over him. It gave him the strength he needed to reach the child and get her to shore.
God had been with him in that lake. He had no other explanation.
After the death of his parents when he was nineteen, Clay felt God had abandoned him and his family. It seemed better to live life without trusting in an almighty power that had failed him so completely. Clay had turned his back on the faith he’d grown up with. To his way of thinking, God didn’t care much about Clay Logan, so Clay Logan wouldn’t care about Him.
It was something of a shock to discover he’d been wrong.
Mr. Dewey extended his hand to Clay again. “If there is ever anything I can do for you, young man, all you have to do is ask.”
Looking stunned at the tale, Hollister asked, “Does Karen need to see a doctor? I’ll be happy to cover the cost.”
Karen scowled fiercely at him. “No! I won’t go to the doctor, and you can’t make me. He’ll give me shots.”
Mrs. Dewey wiped the tears from her cheeks with her palms. “You don’t have to have any shots, honey.”
Mr. Dewey shrugged. “It’s amazing, but she seems fine.”
“I’d feel better if you at least spoke to a doctor about this. Come inside and use my phone.”
With Hollister leading the way, the trio followed him into the lodge leaving Tanner still sitting on his horse.
Clay studied the boy’s dejected posture. He knew something of what the boy had to be feeling. “Care to give me a hand putting the horses away?”
“I guess.”
Dismounting, Tanner fell into step beside Clay as they led the animals to the barn. Inside, the building held a dozen large stalls filled with thick straw waiting to give the weary trail ponies a well-deserved rest. The warm smell of horses, grain and hay were scents Clay knew well. He’d grown up on a ranch, and he’d spent his whole life as a cowboy.
Side by side, Clay and Tanner worked in silence following the routine Clay had taught the teen and his family during their trek into the wilderness. The boy’s attention to detail, his willingness to follow directions and lend a hand had made him an ideal partner on their recent trip, unlike his less-than-helpful little sister.
“I didn’t push her. I was trying to pull her back from the edge,” Tanner said at last, as he slowly brushed down his mare.
“I’m not sure I’d blame you if you had. I considered it more than once.” Clay pulled the heavy saddle and sweaty blanket off his horse and threw it over the stall door with ease.
Chuckling, Tanner began brushing with renewed vigor. “She is a pain.”
“No kidding. You have my sympathy.”
“Mom and my stepdad spoil her rotten.”
“And anything she does wrong you get blamed for because you’re the oldest.”
Tanner looked surprised. “You must have a sister, too.”
“I do. Her name is Maya, but she wasn’t the one who caused the trouble in our family. That was all me.”
“Is your sister the oldest?”
“No, she’s the baby, but I have an older brother.”
Neither of which he’d seen in seven years. Had it really been that long? How much longer would it be until Jesse forgave him? Would he ever?
And what about Nicki? Did she ever think about him? He thought about her far too often.
Each time Clay received a call from Maya he wanted to ask about Nicki, but jumping off a fifteen-foot cliff into a freezing lake was a whole lot easier.
“How can I get a job like this?” Tanner asked, breaking into Clay’s somber thoughts.
“You bum around for a while, take odd jobs on ranches, wander farther and farther away.” His voice trailed off as the aimlessness of his past hit him.
Was that all his life had been up to this point? Where did it go from here?
“Away from what?” Tanner asked.
“For me, a place called High Plains, Kansas.”
Away from the windswept prairie. From the rolling Flint Hills covered in deep green grass where cattle grew fat and sleek and a boy could ride all day without seeing anyone but a lone hawk circling overhead against a sky so blue it hurt his eyes.
Clay patted his horse’s neck as he stared at the snowcapped Rocky Mountains outside the doorway without really seeing them. Instead, he saw Nicki looking shy and beautiful; saw the moonlight reflected in her eyes as she gazed up at him inside the gazebo by the river.
He’d kissed a few women since that night, but none of them matched the sweetness of Nicki’s lips.
And all he’d done for her in return was to sully her good name.
He could still hear Jesse’s voice raised in anger condemning Clay for ruining her reputation and for so much more unspoken between them. A condemnation Clay knew he deserved.
He glanced at Tanner. The boy was still waiting for his advice. “Ask Mr. Dodd about hiring you on as a summer hand. If he and your folks say yes, then prove you’re reliable and willing to do the tough jobs. After a year or two of learning the ropes he might let you guide.”
“My stepdad wants me to start working for him when I turn sixteen, but I’d rather be a cowboy.”
Clay threw back his head and laughed. “Your dad owns the largest hotel-building company in Dallas. He’s worth millions of dollars. Go to work for him. It’ll pay a whole lot better.”
Tanner managed a sheepish grin. “Will you be here next year?”
“Will your folks leave the princess back at the castle?”
“Not much chance of that.”
“Then I may be looking for work elsewhere. Two weeks with that girl’s fits and tantrums was more than enough for me.”
This had been his last trip of the season. Soon, the mountains and valleys would be covered in a snow blanket that would last until April. Hollister had already offered to let Clay stay on over the winter, but he hadn’t made up his mind yet. He’d been guiding here for three years, the longest he’d spent in one place since leaving home, but lately he’d been feeling restless again. Like it was time to move on.
“Do you have kids?” Tanner asked.
“Me?” Clay shook his head. “I’m not the settle-down-raise-a-family kind of guy. That’s my brother’s thing.”
Why was it that his words didn’t carry the conviction he normally felt? Maybe it was because Tanner reminded him so much of Jesse, and Jesse had been on Clay’s mind a lot.
He should have been there for Jesse when his wife died.
Clay moved to the second horse waiting to be unsaddled. He hadn’t learned about Marie’s death until three weeks after the fact. The phone call from Maya back in July had missed Clay by two days. By then, he’d been deep in the Canadian wilderness with a hunting party and couldn’t be reached.
He returned his sister’s call as soon as he got back to the lodge, but her home and cell phones had both been disconnected. Worried sick, he’d gritted his teeth and called Jesse to find out what was going on.
It was the first time the brothers had spoken in seven years.
Clay could still hear the hard, stilted tone of Jesse’s voice as he recounted how his wife had been killed during a tornado that touched down in the area.
Thousands of miles away and weeks after her death, Clay hadn’t known what to say. His heart went out to Jesse, but he couldn’t find the words he needed to offer his brother comfort. It had always been that way between them. How could two sons of the same parents be so different?
Clay had finally asked, “Do you want me to come home?”
Oh, how he needed Jesse to say yes, but his tough-as-nails sibling replied, “Don’t rush back on my account. We’ve managed without you this long.”
It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. What Jesse meant was don’t come back at all. Jesse hadn’t forgiven Clay for his role in the death of their parents. The hurt went bone-deep.
Clay had gone back into the wilderness with his next group of clients a few days later. Weeks after his call to Jesse, Clay learned about his sister’s marriage in much the same fashion. This time, there had been a letter waiting for him when he got back to the ranch.
He would have liked to have been there for Maya’s big day, but it seemed that she and her new husband, Greg Garrison, were in a hurry so they could foster a six-year-old boy named Tommy Jacobs.
Since Maya already had a three-year-old daughter, Clay realized he now had more relatives that he hadn’t met than ones he knew. Jesse had triplet daughters that were only a few months old, and he was raising them by himself. Jesse never did things the easy way.
“High Plains, Kansas. Where is that?” Tanner asked. “My grandparents live in Wichita.”
From behind them, Karen’s know-it-all voice cut in. “That’s where my class sent a big card on the first day of school. We all signed it.”
“Oh, right,” Tanner replied. “The town that was almost wiped out by a tornado.”
Clay glanced between the kids. “Are you sure you aren’t thinking of Greensburg?”
Karen’s face scrunched into a scowl. She threw a handful of straw at Clay. “My teacher said High Plains!”
“Karen, be nice,” Tanner chided.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she shot back, making a face and sticking her tongue out at him.
Tanner finished his horse and turned the animal loose in the stall. “She’s right. It was High Plains. It was all over the news for a couple of days. If Mr. Hollister will let us use his computer, I can show you the story on the Internet.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “We could have used mine, but Dad wouldn’t let me bring my laptop. He said this was going to be a real old-fashioned vacation.”
Clay gaped at her. “You have a laptop? Aren’t you in, what, the first grade?”
She snatched up two more handfuls of straw to fling at him. “Second grade!”
Karen’s brush with death hadn’t reduced her sassiness one bit.
Tanner walked toward the barn door. “Ignore her. It works for me.”
Fifteen minutes later, Clay was leaning over Tanner’s shoulder as he pulled up picture after picture of High Plains, shredded by a tornado. Hundred-year-old trees stripped bare, building and cars reduced to shattered jumbles of rubble.
Why hadn’t Jesse or Maya told him about this?
Because they think I don’t care.
Maya had mentioned in her letter that the cleanup was continuing after the storm and that she and Greg were planning to hold a wedding reception in the Old Town Hall when repairs were finished, hopefully by Christmas. She’d also written to expect an invitation.
Clay had no idea the damage to High Plains had been so severe. He couldn’t believe he had to find out what had happened to his hometown from strangers when he’d spoken to Jesse on the phone only weeks after the event.
Clay had to acknowledge that he hadn’t exactly stayed on the line to chitchat with Jesse after learning about Marie’s death. Had Maya assumed Jesse filled Clay in on the details of the storm? She must have, or she would have tried contacting him again.
With a sinking heart, he realized his silence all these months probably convinced her he didn’t care.
Next, Tanner brought up a national news story about the storm’s aftermath. As shots of the devastation flashed by in a slide show, Clay stared at them in shock. He recognized the ruins as buildings in the downtown area. The town he knew was all but gone. Wiped out in a day.
Suddenly, a familiar face flashed onto the screen. A second later another picture of a broken building replaced it.
Clay gripped Tanner’s shoulder. “Stop. Go back.”
Tanner did as he asked. Clay leaned closer to the monitor. Nicki stood in front of a pile of rubble with her arm around an old woman clinging to a broken umbrella. Nicki’s face glistened with tears.
His heart ached for the look of loss in her eyes, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Time hadn’t changed that.
He read the caption under the photo: “High Plains residents console each other near the ruins of their historic Old Town Hall.”
Clay closed his eyes as a feeling of helplessness swallowed him whole. He should be there. Jesse, Maya, Nicki, the whole community had suffered a terrible loss, and he hadn’t done a thing to help.
“Is that someone you know?” Tanner’s voice broke into Clay’s thoughts.
“Yeah.” Someone he used to know. Someone he’d left behind a long time ago. What a stupid, stupid mistake that had been.
Shame, anger and guilt had driven Clay out of town. His juvenile pride had kept him away. All this time. All this wasted time.
The next page Tanner brought up was dated the previous month. It was a story about the rebuilding efforts in High Plains. According to the article, the first overwhelming response of volunteers had dwindled leaving much of the town still struggling to recover.
With startling clarity Clay saw what he needed to do, saw for the first time in his life the path God wanted him to follow.
He patted Tanner’s shoulder. “Thanks for showing me this.”
Turing around, Clay strode out of the inner office and crossed the lobby to where his boss stood beside the wide stone fireplace visiting with Mr. and Mrs. Dewey.
“Hollister, I’m leaving. Send my last paycheck to my sister. You’ve got her address.”
The man’s craggy features settled into a scowl. “Leaving? Where’re you going?”
Clay was already halfway out the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Somewhere I should have gone a long time ago. Home.”

One second Nicki was walking down the sidewalk across from the construction site at the Old Town Hall and the next second her world tipped sideways.
Stumbling to a halt, she blinked and looked again. The mirage didn’t vanish. The heavy thud of her heart stole her breath, leaving her numb with shock.
Clay Logan stood not fifty feet away, his hands shoved in the pockets of a brown sheepskin-lined jacket as he hunched against the cutting wind. It was only the second day of November, but the deep chill in the air was a reminder that winter wasn’t far away.
What was Clay doing here? How long had he been back in town? How long was he staying?
He hadn’t seen her. She was thankful for that small favor as she struggled to regain her composure. He was surveying a bare patch of earth ringed with old concrete footings. It was all that remained of the large gazebo that once stood in the middle of the town’s park.
Was he as saddened by its loss as she had been?
So much of the tornado-ravaged town was in the process of being rebuilt, homes, businesses, the historic Old Town Hall. Fixing the gazebo wasn’t even on the list of things the overwhelmed city council had planned.
Besides, another gazebo would never be the same.
As if aware that someone was watching him, Clay turned to look in her direction. His shoulders stiffened. For a long instant they stared at each other without moving. Then, he touched the brim of his black cowboy hat to acknowledge her.
She wished she were closer, wished she could see the expression in his eyes.
Was the love still there?
Of course it wasn’t. What a foolish thing to wonder. They’d been starry-eyed teenagers the last time they’d seen each other.
Don’t just stand here. Walk away. Pretend it doesn’t matter that he’s back, she told herself.
She wouldn’t let it matter. She’d wasted enough years of her life hoping for his return. Forcing herself to take a step, she flinched when she realized he was already moving toward her, closing the distance.
Turning around and running in the opposite direction suddenly seemed like a good idea. But running away was Clay’s specialty, not hers.
The thought stiffened her spine. She shifted her large green-and-orange striped tote to her other shoulder and waited. As he approached, she saw that the years had changed his good looks from boyish charm into chiseled masculinity.
Dark stubble covered his square chin and the planes of his cheeks. Crow’s-feet at the corners of his deep blue eyes added character to his face, but the soft grin that pulled at one corner of his mouth was still the same one she remembered.
A swirl of butterflies filled her midsection. The sight of that slow smile aimed in her direction used to melt her heart like butter in a hot pan.
Stop. What am I doing?
Nicki gathered her scattered wits. Roguish grin or not, she wasn’t about to fall back into some bygone, teenage hero-worship mode. She had far too much sense for that.
Time to start acting like it.
“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Clay Logan. I almost didn’t recognize you. What’s it been, five years?” She was proud that her tone carried just the right touch of indifference. If only he didn’t notice the white-knuckled grip she had on the strap of her bag.
His smile disappeared. “It’s been seven years, Nicki.”
“That long?” She tsked as she shook her head. “Time sure flies, doesn’t it?”
She swept one hand toward the park indicating the broken trees and rubble piles that hadn’t yet been removed. “As you can see, things have changed a lot since you were here.”
“I guess they have,” he replied, a sad quality in his voice. His gaze never left her.
Tipping her head to one side, she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t really expect things would be the same as when you left, did you?”
He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “No, but I wasn’t prepared for exactly how different things would be.”
At that moment, he looked lost and uncertain. Sympathy overrode her ire. She’d had four months to become accustomed to the scarred face of High Plains. He must be seeing it for the first time. It had to be painful.
She said, “The tornado really made a mess of things. The downtown area was hit pretty hard. The General Store is gone, as are most of the homes south of Garrison Street between First and Second.”
Still holding his hat, he used it to point toward the line of broken trees in the park that ran between the High Plains river and the town’s Main Street. “It’s hard to believe only one person was killed.”
“Yes. God was with us. The carriage house beside the church and the Old Town Hall both took direct hits. Volunteers from the community are rebuilding the hall, as you can see. The hope is that it’ll be done in time to hold the Founders’ Day celebration on Christmas Day.”
“Looks like they’re making good progress.”
“With the outside, yes, but the inside is still bare studs.”
“What about you? Did you lose much?”
Waving a hand to dismiss her minor losses, she said, “A broken window. That was all.” And the photo of the two of them that she’d tossed in the trash that night.
Hitching her bag higher, she flashed a bright smile. “I need to get going. It was good seeing you again, Clay.”
Stepping around him, she was surprised when he reached out and took hold of her elbow. “Nicki, I’m sorry.”
Don’t do this, Clay. Not after all this time. I waited so long for you.
Keeping the smile on her face cost her dearly. Her cheek muscles ached with the effort. “What are you sorry about?”
He studied her with a puzzled frown. “For taking off like that.”
Was he really expecting her to just forgive him? To say the last seven years didn’t matter? She had some pride. There was no way she’d let him see how much he’d hurt her.
“It’s water under the bridge, Clay. We were just kids. It wasn’t like we were soul mates or something.”
He didn’t reply, but he released her. His hand dropped to his side. “I’m glad you didn’t hold it against me.”
Her mind screamed at her to leave before he saw though the veil she’d pulled over her turbulent emotions, but she couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of him. The urge to fling herself into his arms and hug him was overwhelming. Why did he still have such an effect on her?
Forcing herself to take a step back, she quickly said, “I hope you enjoy your visit. I know Maya and Jesse must be excited that you’re home.”
A hint of his grin reappeared as he settled his Stetson on his head. “Maya might be happy. Jesse? I’m thinking not so much.”

Chapter Two
Clay called himself every kind of fool in the book as he faced Nicki. He’d spent the last seven years wondering if she’d forgiven him for running out on her.
Turns out, she’d barely given it a thought.
She was the reason he’d come back. Her picture, the one of her with tears in her eyes, had solidified a yearning he’d never truly understood. His heart ached at the sight of her while she acted as if it meant nothing—as if there’d never been anything between them.
Maybe there hadn’t been. Maybe his imagination had taken a simple high school infatuation and worked it into something special because he thought he’d never see her again.
During the past five days on the road south, he’d had plenty of time to think about what he was doing, but it wasn’t until he rolled into town that he began to question the wisdom of leaving a job and coming back to an uncertain welcome.
Was this really the path God wanted him to take?
Faith, the idea of trusting God to guide him, was too new. He’d been a loner for years, trusting only himself, trying not to care too much about anyone or anything. Until now.
Raking a hand through her curly blond hair, Nicki took a step back as if she intended to walk away, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “If you’re worried about Jesse’s reaction, I assume that means the two of you haven’t reconciled.”
It was the look of compassion in her eyes and the tone of her voice more than her words that gave him a sliver of hope. She remembered.
Nicki had been his sounding board during his last year of high school. She knew that he and his brother didn’t see eye to eye on anything. She’d been a good friend. He let her down—the way he’d let everyone down.
“I’m not sure Jesse and I’ll ever reconcile. He blames me for Mom and Dad’s death.”
“Not as much as you blame yourself.”
She’d always been good at reading him. Clay swallowed hard as old emotions threatened to swamp him. It had been his fault. Nothing would change that fact.
“You can shop all day for another guilty party, but you won’t find one. It was my idea to climb up and spray-paint graffiti on the Alma water tower that night, a stupid, dangerous stunt if there ever was one. I was the one who got arrested. I was one who called Dad to come bail me out.”
He swallowed hard against the pain of those memories. “If I hadn’t done it, Dad and Mom wouldn’t have been in the car when that semi crossed the center line. We’d still have parents, and Jesse and Maya wouldn’t hate my guts.”
“They don’t hate you, Clay. You’re their brother.”
“Okay, maybe Maya doesn’t, she always was the peacekeeper in the family. But Jesse hates me.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
“I’ve talked to him on the phone once since I left. He told me his wife had been killed, then he told me not to come home. It was pretty clear. I’m not welcome.”
She looked down, as if at a loss for words. Clay studied her face. He’d dreamed of her so often that he thought he knew her every feature by heart. He remembered the face of a girl. The woman standing in front of him had a quiet strength about her that was new. She’d matured, grown more beautiful—if that was possible.
The blustery wind put color in her cheeks. A cluster of curls from her shoulder-length hair blew across her full lips. She used one hand to drag her hair back and tuck it behind her ear. It was a gesture she used to use just before she gave him one of her shy, sweet smiles. Seeing it brought a flood of memories.
The two of them studying before the big algebra test, finding the courage to ask her to the dance, walking with her in the moonlight.
Now that he was with her again he knew those memories would never be enough. He wanted new ones. He wanted to get to know this new woman all over again.
When she looked up he saw deep indecision written clearly on her features. “I really do need to get going, Clay.”
He didn’t want to see her go, but didn’t know how to stop her from leaving. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him. He was good at leaving, not at staying.
God, I believe You brought me home for a reason. Show me what it is.
He nodded and smiled politely. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He’d make sure of it.
A ghost of a smile curled the corner of her lips. “It’s a small town.”
“Smaller than it used to be.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the sad truth.”
Sorry for his insensitive remark, he quickly added, “The people here know how to survive. My granddad told me the place was nearly wiped off the map just a few years after it was founded.”
“Yes. I know the story. It’s been repeated a lot lately.”
He followed her gaze across the road to where the shell of the rebuilt Old Town Hall stood out like a sore thumb, all glaring new plywood and silver sheets of insulation. It was clear the town had copied the size and style of the old structure.
Glancing westward, he saw the church had survived intact. The sturdy, square white building was another relic of High Plains history. Its row of arched windows had looked upon the town’s growth from a simple frontier mill town to a bustling city of more than three thousand residents.
Clay said, “I understand their need to replace that special part of their heritage.”
“Our heritage,” she said quietly. “It’s your home, too.”
His eyes locked with hers. Time stood still. It would only be home if he could find a way to earn back her friendship and her trust along with that of his brother and sister.
From down the street, someone called Nicki’s name breaking the connection between them. He looked over her shoulder to see her mother coming toward them. Glenis Appleton was pushing a dark blue stroller with a bright-eyed toddler in it. Since the tyke looked like it had been swallowed alive by a hooded pink coat, Clay assumed it was a little girl.
Slightly breathless, Glenis stopped beside Nicki. “We finished early so we thought we’d met you halfway.”
Stooping to the child’s level, Nicki asked, “Did you have fun at Nana’s quilting class?”
The little girl kicked her feet and jabbered with excitement.
Grinning, Glenis said, “She slept through the whole thing.”
Nicki rose. “Thanks for taking her this afternoon. Mom, you remember Clay Logan, don’t you?”
To say Nicki’s mother looked stunned was putting it mildly.
Clay raised two fingers to touch the brim of his hat. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Appleton.”
As Glenis glanced between Clay and Nicki, her expression hardened. “I didn’t know you were back in town, Clay.”
“I just got in.”
“I see.” Her gaze switched to Nicki. “You should get Kasey out of this cold wind.”
“You’re right.” Nicki accepted the stroller handles from her mother.
Her daughter eyed Clay seriously for a few seconds, then her round little face broke into a wide grin. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Hi. Hi.”
Squatting in front of child, Clay reached in and flicked her nose. “Hi, yourself, sugar face.”
Nicki pulled the stroller back a pace. “Come on, honey, let’s get you home. Clay, it was nice seeing you again. Have a good visit.”
Clay rose slowly and stood on the sidewalk staring after them as they walked away. His hopes, like the gazebo where he’d once kissed Nicki, had been reduced to ruins in a matter of seconds.
She had a child. He was too late.
Over the years Clay had considered the possibility that Nicki would find someone else. Sometimes, he even hoped that she’d found someone to love her as she deserved to be loved. But to see it—to know for certain she loved another man—cut deeper than he had imagined possible.
Nicki had gone on with her life. He hadn’t.
Racing to her rescue had seemed like a good idea five days ago. As it turned out, he was years too late. She didn’t need rescuing. Even the town he wanted to help rebuild was well on the way to recovery. He’d driven thousands of miles to discover no one needed him.
He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. So what now?
Leave again? And go where? He’d been north, south, east and west of Kansas. What good had it done him? He might pretend he was a carefree cowboy, but the specter of his failures followed him wherever he traveled.
He’d made so many mistakes. Each one led to another and another until it seemed like his whole life had been one long string of screwups. Just as Jesse had predicted.
Give me a clue here, God. What am I supposed to do?
Somehow, Clay knew he needed to start over, to find what had been missing in his life. As much as he’d wanted that to be Nicki, it wasn’t going to happen.
The knowledge was more depressing than the ruins of the town.

Nicki stopped at her front steps and lifted Kasey out of her stroller. Her mother folded the carrier and followed Nicki into the house.
Sitting on the camel-colored sofa, Nicki divested Kasey of her plush coat and mittens and waited for her mother to make some comment about Clay. She didn’t have long to wait.
“Nicki, did you know Clay was coming back to High Plains?”
“Nope. I was as surprised to see him as you were.” Surprised, angry, confused, attracted.
“I thought perhaps that was why you wanted me to watch Kasey today.”
“I told you I had an appointment to get my hair cut today.” Grabbing a strand, she waved it toward her mother. “See—no split ends.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were lying.”
“Could have fooled me.” Nicki leaned forward to tug Kasey’s green knit top down over her plump little belly. As far as Nicki was concerned, it was one of her foster daughter’s cutest features. Of course, her wheat-blond hair, bright blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and pudgy fingers were all a close second.
Kasey patted her chest. “Chirt.”
Nicki beamed. “That’s right. That’s your shirt. You’re so smart.”
“Owey.” Kasey pointed to the pink scar on her forehead.
“Yes, that was your owey, but it’s all better now.” Nicki planted a kiss on the spot to prove it.
Kasey had been found the night of the tornado injured and alone. She remained the great mystery of the storm. No one knew who she was. It was as if she had literally been dropped out of the sky.
Extensive investigations by the local and state police and even the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children had come up empty in the search for her family or her identity, though some imposters had claimed she was their daughter.
At first Nicki had prayed daily that Kasey would be reunited with her mother or her father. Knowing that someone, somewhere must be frantic about the child had fueled those prayers.
Lately, however, those prayers had become harder and harder to voice. Her love for her foster daughter was growing by leaps and bounds. The idea of losing her had become almost unbearable.
Glenis sat on the sofa beside Nicki. “I just thought it was odd that you should run into Clay Logan the moment he set foot in town.”
“The Lord moves in mysterious ways, Mom.”
Affronted, Glenis folded her hands in her lap. “I hardly think you need to be flippant about it. I remember how you cried yourself to sleep for weeks after that boy left.”
“It was a long time ago. We were kids. I got over it.”
“You say that, but I’m not so sure.”
“Surely you don’t think I’ve carried a torch for him all this time?”
“Well, haven’t you?”
“No. I’ve dated any number of men, a few seriously. But because I haven’t met the right man is no reason to assume I’m still pining over Clay. Besides, my friends have snapped up all the good men around here.”
The tornado might have wreaked havoc on the town, but the twister had certainly brought with it a dose of romance. Maya Logan had fallen for her boss, Greg Garrison, the most eligible bachelor in town. They had married in August. Then the two of them quickly added Tommy Jacobs, a six-year-old foster child to their family.
Reverend Michael Garrison had recently become engaged to Heather Waters, the founder of Helping Hands Christian Mission. Heather, originally from High Plains, had returned to help with the recovery efforts, and it looked like she would be staying for good.
Josie Cane, who ran the after-school day-care program at the church where Nicki taught preschool, was head over heels in love with Silas Marstow. And engaged—thanks to the matchmaking efforts of Josie’s niece and Silas’s daughter.
Even Lexi Harmon, the town’s veterinarian and her ex-husband, Colt Ridgeway, the police chief, had rekindled their marriage and were back together—where Nicki always thought they belonged.
It warmed Nicki’s heart to see so many people she cared about finding love in the face of the town’s tragedy, but sometimes she felt the green imp of jealousy sitting on her shoulder. Why hadn’t it happened for her?
And now Clay Logan had returned.
No, don’t even go there!
Nicki scolded herself for the unbidden thought. She hadn’t pined for him. She wasn’t waiting for him to show up. She was living the life God meant for her to live. That life didn’t include a cowboy with wanderlust in his veins.
“I want you to be happy,” her mother continued. “I want you to find someone you can settle down with.”
Leaning forward, Nicki ruffled the baby’s hair. “I am happy. I have someone. I have Kasey.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Nicki sat back and met her mother’s critical stare. “The settling down kind of men I’ve met want children.”
She tried hard not to sound bitter, but she couldn’t help it. “Since I can’t have children, that’s been something of a date killer when the subject comes up.”
“I’m sure there’s a man out there willing to adopt a child once you’re married.”
“I’ll keep looking for him. In the mean time, thanks again for watching Kasey. Let me buy you lunch next week as payment.”
Glenis rose and bent to place a kiss on Kasey’s head. “I don’t need payment to watch this little doll.”
Nicki smiled. “She is that.”
After gathering up her purse and slipping into her dark blue wool coat, Glenis headed to the door. Nicki followed her, leaving Kasey happily pulling a half-dozen toys from a large red plastic bin at the end of the sofa until she found her favorite stuffed animal. A small pink bear given to her in the hospital by Layla Logan.
In the entryway, Glenis paused. “Are you working at the Old Town Hall tonight?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“Not tonight, I have a meeting of the library committee.”
Giving her mother a quick hug, Nicki said, “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m doing fine. I love my job. I love the kids I work with. I have a great life.”
Glenis returned the hug. “Worrying is a mother’s job.”
“Then at least take a vacation day. I’m not throwing myself at Clay Logan’s feet simply because he’s back for a visit.”
Glenis pulled open the door letting in a gust of cold wind. “I’m sorry if I upset you by talking about him.”
“You didn’t upset me,” Nicki answered truthfully. Clay had done that without any help.
Where was he now? Had he gone out to the ranch? How long was he staying? Would she see him again?
Nicki crossed her arms against the chill as she closed the door behind her mother. All questions and no answers, that certainly summed up her relationship with Clay in the past.
Theirs had been a friendship she valued deeply. If only they had kept things friendly and not let their teenage emotions take over. What she felt back then hadn’t been love. It had been a high school crush and nothing more.
In a way, it had been good for her to see Clay again. Perhaps now she truly could get over him the way she always claimed she had.

Chapter Three
Clay pulled his truck to a stop at the curb and checked the house numbers against the return address on his sister’s last letter. This was the place.
It had taken seven long years, but he was finally ready to face Maya. He had a lot to apologize for. He waited a minute, gathering his courage.
Maya stood on the front porch sweeping stray fallen leaves from the wooden deck. A small boy Clay took to be her foster son, Tommy, and a little girl he assumed was his niece, Layla, were watching from their seat on a dark green porch swing.
Like Nicki, Maya had changed a lot. Gone was his gangly kid sister. In her place was a lovely young woman with short dark hair and a trim figure.
Catching sight of his vehicle, she stopped her work to stare at his truck with a puzzled frown. He opened his door, stepped out and walked to the front of the vehicle.
She dropped her broom. With a squeal of delight, she launched herself down the steps and into his arms.
Clay caught her up and swung her around laughing. Years of heartache vanished like smoke. Happiness nearly choked him.
Thank You, Lord, for giving me this moment.
As he set his sister back on her feet, she cupped his face in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here. Let me look at you. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“You have. Talk about the ugly duckling turning into a swan.”
“What?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Did you just insult me or compliment me?”
He grinned. “Go with the compliment angle.”
“I believe I will.” She threw her arms around him, and he returned her fierce hug. “It is so good to see you.”
“Its good to see you, too, sis.” She had no idea how good. Once more he saw how foolish he’d been to stay away. Oh, what his pride had cost him.
Maya released her bear hug. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming?”
“I didn’t have your number.”
“That’s right. I lost my phone in the tornado and I was using Greg’s until recently. Well, you just hand over your cell phone and I’ll add my new number for you.”
“I don’t own one, and I don’t plan to get one.”
“In this day and age you haven’t found the need for a cell phone? That’s nuts.”
“I get along fine without one.”
“That is caveman thinking.”
He thumped his chest. “Uhg.”
Giggling, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house. “Come and meet the kids. Greg is out of town until next Monday, but I know he’ll be excited to meet you.”
Although Greg Garrison had been raised just outside of High Plains, Clay had little memory of him. Greg was several years older, and the Logan family hadn’t traveled in the same social circles as the wealthy Garrisons.
On the front steps, Maya paused, looking at Clay intently. “You are planning to stay awhile, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I don’t have any plans at the moment.”
“Wonderful. Then you’re staying until I tell you to leave. You’ll have to sleep on the sofa, but it’s a comfortable one. We’re in the process of building a new, bigger house, but it’s far from done. Oh, I can’t believe you’re finally here. I’m never letting you leave again.”
Chuckling at her high-handedness, he said, “I’m happy to be here, too, little sis.”
She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Thanksgiving! You have to stay until after the holiday. My whole family together, praise the Lord, that would be so wonderful. Have you been to the ranch?”
“Not yet.” He was leaving his confrontation with his older brother until last. He strongly suspected it wouldn’t go well.
Maya’s frown returned. “But you will go see Jesse, right?”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Eyeing Clay intently, she said, “You’d better. You know he isn’t going to make the first move.”
“Same old Jesse.”
“I don’t think that’s true. He’s had a pretty hard time of it. Oh, but you should see his girls. They’re as cute as a bug’s ears.”
“Cuter than this little honey?” he asked, winking at the doe-eyed youngster peeking at him from behind the porch railing.
“Layla, come say hello to your uncle Clay.”
She shook her head.
Laughing, Maya scooped up her daughter, her eyes sparking with maternal pride. Layla hid her face against her mother’s neck refusing to look at her new relative. “She’s a little shy, but she’ll warm up to you.”
Turning to the young boy, Maya held out her hand. “Tommy, this is my brother, Clay. He’s come all the way from Canada to visit us. Finally.”
Clay extended his hand. “Howdy.”
Tommy took it, and the two exchanged a hardy shake, then Tommy asked, “Is Canada a long way away?”
Thinking of the tedious hours he’d put in behind the wheel, Clay nodded. “It sure is.”
“Did you happen to see a black and white dog, about this big on your way here?” Tommy held his hand below his waist. “His name is Charlie. He’s wearing a red collar.”
“No, but I’d be happy to help you look for him.” Clay glanced at his sister, but she gave a tiny shake of her head.
Maya laid a hand on Tommy’s head. “Charlie disappeared during the tornado. He and Tommy were very close.”
It had been more than four months. If the dog hadn’t come home by now Clay knew it wasn’t going to, but it seemed Tommy wasn’t ready to accept that.
The boy shifted away from Maya. “He’ll come back. You’ll see.” Turning, he ran around the corner of the house.
Maya sent Clay an apologetic look. “Tommy was shuffled through four foster homes before he came to live with Greg and me. He was able to keep Charlie with him during every move. The dog was his only real family.”
“Poor kid.”
“Yes, which is why Greg and I are determined to adopt him.”
“He must be happy about that.”
“Actually, we haven’t said anything to him so please don’t. In case…you know.”
“Gotcha. In case it doesn’t work out.”
“Right. What am I doing keeping you standing here on the porch? Come inside. Are you hungry? The kids and I just finished lunch, but I still have a half pot of chili simmering on the stove.”
“You cook?”
She batted his arm. “What kind of question is that? Of course I cook.”
“All I remember is your burned offerings. Burned eggs, burned pancakes, burned beans, burned meatloaf.”
Pressing her hand to her cheek, she giggled. “Oh, the meatloaf. Do you remember how hard it was, and how Dad kept saying it was fine while everyone else was slipping pieces under the table to the dog.”
“As I recall, Shep didn’t touch them.”
“It was years before I made meatloaf again for that very reason.”
Still laughing, Maya headed into the house in front of him. Clay followed, amazed at how easy it was to fall back into the sibling banter they’d always enjoyed.
Inside, Maya lowered Layla to the floor, but the little girl clung to her leg while treating Clay to covert suspicious glances. After taking his coat and hat, Maya led the way to a cozy kitchen where the delicious smell of her chili set Clay’s stomach rumbling.
“Have you had a chance to see the town,” Maya asked as she withdrew a bowl from the cupboard.
“I did. It’s hard to believe all the damage.”
“You should have seen it that first night. I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”
“I wish I’d been here to help.”
After hesitating a second, she asked, “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”
Was she asking about the storm or his original exit? He chose to talk about the twister. He didn’t fully understand himself why he hadn’t come back after his last fight with Jesse.
“I missed your phone call by two days. I’d just left the ranch to guide a group of hunters on a four-week packhorse trip. I called as soon as I got the message, but your phone was still out so I called Jesse.”
“He told me he’d spoken to you. He told you about Marie?”
“Yeah. He mentioned the twister, but he didn’t tell me the town had been leveled. Course, he never was talkative. I offered to come home then, but he said not to bother.” Anger at Jesse’s harsh words reared its head again.
“Jesse said that?” Maya was clearly shocked.
“Pretty much.”
Ladling a heaping serving of chili into the bowl, she set it on the table in front of him and sat down. Sighing, she said, “There’s a lot more to the story, but go ahead and eat.”
Maya propped her elbows on the smooth pine surface and stared at him.
Tentatively, he sampled his first bite. The thick sauce and chunks of meat simmered to perfection with just the right kick of spices warmed him all the way to his toes. “Hey, this is good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“But I am.”
Rising, Maya picked up Layla. “Let me put this one down for her nap, and then we can talk.”
Clay finished his lunch and sat back in the chair. It wasn’t long before Maya joined him at the table again.
Sitting, she folded her hands in front of her. “Did Jesse tell you anything about the way Marie died?”
“Just that she was killed when a tornado touched down at the ranch.”
“A tree fell on her car. It was the same storm that hit High Plains, but there was more than one tornado that day. Anyway, Marie wasn’t at the ranch.”
“Where was she?”
“On the highway a few miles from here. She’d left Jesse and the babies the day before the storm hit. Jesse found a note on the kitchen table along with her wedding band and the Logan family engagement ring. He was devastated.”
Sympathy for his brother’s loss and humiliation blunted Clay’s anger. “I imagine he would be. I guess I can even understand why he didn’t want to tell me about it.”
“I hoped you’d understand. Their marriage wasn’t happy, but everyone thought the babies would change that, including Jesse.”
“She left her babies?” Even Clay was shocked by that.
“I really think she was suffering from some type of postpartum depression. I can’t imagine leaving my child if I was in my right mind.”
“Poor Jesse.”
“In one of those bizarre things that happens in a twister, the kitchen was damaged, but the note and her wedding ring were still on the table. However, the Logan family ring was gone.”
“That’s a shame.” The ring didn’t have great monetary value, but to the Logans it was a priceless treasure. It had been handed down with love through the family for six generations.
“We all lost so much that night. Especially Jesse. Losing the ring was like adding insult to injury. He feels so bad about it.”
“You say the house was hit. How badly was it damaged?”
“It tore out the kitchen wall and took off a small section of the roof. The dining table Dad made for Mom was broken and Grandmother Logan’s shadow box was smashed. I think I was as upset about that as I was about the ring.”
Clay gestured toward her hand. “You can start a new tradition with your engagement ring.”
She turned the diamond solitaire around on her finger. “I might just do that. I wish you could have been here for my wedding. Not that it was much, just a quick ceremony so we could get custody of Tommy…and all that other stuff that goes along with wedded bliss.”
Her cheeky grin and sparkling eyes told him just how much she loved her new husband. Clay found himself looking forward to renewing his acquaintance with the man.
“I’m sorry I missed it, Maya.”
“That’s all right. You’ll just have to be here when we renew our vows in the new Old Town Hall as soon as it’s finished.”
“I won’t miss it. I promise. When’s this going to be?”
Rolling her eyes, she answered, “Good question. The hall is being rebuilt by volunteer workers and with donated supplies, but some of the work, like the electrical stuff, has to be done by professionals. It seems like every electrician and contractor in this part of the state has work backed up for months. That has slowed our progress.”
“I can imagine.”
“There was a lot of enthusiasm for the project when it was first proposed, but that has tapered off. People are busy trying to get their own lives in order, their businesses open and their homes rebuilt before winter. We meet on Monday evenings and Saturday afternoons now. Volunteers come and go as they can.”
She glanced at the clock. “In fact, I’m volunteering there tonight.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever they need me to do. Hey, why don’t you come, too?”
Nicki might have been the main reason he’d returned to High Plains, but helping the town recover had also been part of it. “Sure, I can drive a nail as well as the next guy.”

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