LITMIR.BIZ

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are you from?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

      “A couple of hours up north. I had some time off and thought I’d just travel along the coast.”

      Kara, glad the dog had finally settled down, eased her hold on Gulliver’s collar. “Sounds like you’ve got an adventurous spirit.”

      He slid her a half smile. “I’ve been accused of being staid and boring, but never adventurous.”

      “That’s too bad.” Kara wondered how a man who looked to be the epitome of outdoor fun could consider himself dull. It didn’t seem possible. “Life can be tough if you can’t find time to enjoy it.”

      “Kara’s just about the most funnest person you’ll ever know,” Eric interjected. “She’s always got a cool idea. She can make the yuckiest things kind of neat.”

      “I’m not into fun,” Michael said. Topaz-colored eyes studied Kara a bit more intensely than she liked. It seemed as though he was trying to read her, just as she had tried with him. She found it unsettling until he turned and smiled at Eric. “I just came here to walk on the beach. Think. Have some alone time.”

      And then Kara saw it, that glimmer of something in his eyes that told her more about the man than he told her himself. She recognized sadness, and although he’d only allowed her a brief glimpse, it was there. She was sure of it. Michael, whoever he was, had come to Harbor Haven to ease his pain.

      Her heart went out to him, just as it did for every orphan she met—human or animal. Of course, she didn’t need to adopt another lonely stray into her world. Her time was spread a bit too thin, as it was.

      When she wasn’t working at the Pacifica Bar and Grill and saving every dime she could for graduate school, she was helping Lizzie make a home for the children.

      “Well,” she said, dismissing her analysis of the good-looking stranger, “Harbor Haven should give you all the fresh air and sunshine you need.” She pointed toward the office built on the front of Lizzie’s cottage. “You’ll find Elizabeth Campbell inside. She’s the owner.”

      “Thanks,” Michael said. Then he strode toward the office, leaving Kara and Eric to their game of soccer.

      “Okay, Kara,” Eric said. “Let’s finish our practice. What does the book say we need to do next?”

      Kara smiled at the boy whose childhood had been interrupted by tragedy, knowing it was their commonality that led to their friendship and camaraderie. She, too, had been orphaned, but she didn’t have family to look after her. “I left the book on the picnic table. Let’s go read the next chapter.”

      Eric dashed ahead, still favoring his left foot. Last year a tragic car accident had damaged his hip and thigh. The orthopedic surgeon said Eric might never regain the full use of his leg. Kara hoped he didn’t need any additional operations. The poor kid had been through enough already.

      “Out of my way, Gulliver,” Eric said, as he tried to maneuver around the loping dog. “You’re supposed to watch and get the ball when we miss the goal. Only people play soccer.”

      Kara wished she’d played soccer herself, as a kid. She hadn’t, of course, but the public library had oodles of books on sports, and she was determined to learn along with Eric. Instead of putting them at a disadvantage, reading and studying together had a lot of positive effects—the least of which was developing a close, loving bond with each other.

      Eric, who had virtually no reading skills six months ago, was now browsing the library with enthusiasm. He saw education as a means of achieving anything he wanted, including fun on the school playground.

      And that’s exactly what Kara had hoped would happen. It was her own plan of action. That’s why she struggled so hard to put herself through junior college, then on to a four-year degree. It had taken her six years to do it, but she’d achieved it without any student loans or financial aid.

      As a child, she’d been a ward of the state for as long as she could remember, dependent upon the charity and handouts of others. But not any longer. Everything she owned, every oddball, mismatched piece of furniture, secondhand pair of shoes or outfit had been provided by her own labor. Self-sufficiency made her feel as rich and proud as a queen. And she would never take a dime from anyone else, never feel obligated to anyone again.

      “Oh, Gulliver,” Eric said, as he and the gangly dog collided. The boy’s bad leg gave way, and he fell to the graveled parking lot and skidded on his hands and knees. “Ow.”

      Oh, no. Not his leg, Kara thought, as she strode to Eric’s side, hoping the injury was minor. Lizzie hadn’t been too happy about Eric playing outside, let alone soccer. Too dangerous, she’d said. But Kara figured the woman was more concerned the courts would find fault with her and take Eric and his baby sister away. It hadn’t been easy for a seventy-five-year-old woman to gain custody of her grandchildren, but the boy’s heroism in the midst of tragedy had made him a celebrity of sorts.

      Several televised reports and a heart-stunning newspaper editorial had led to an outpouring of support. Telephone calls to the television stations jammed their lines for days, and a slew of letters written to the editor of the newspaper demanded the children’s need for a loving family member to take them, no matter what her age. The judge, swayed by public sentiment, granted Lizzie temporary custody of Eric and Ashley, the baby sister whose life he’d saved.

      Still, the guardianship Lizzie held was tenuous. Kara, having been jerked about within the system herself, knew firsthand how temporary custody and foster care could be. When it became necessary for the kids to have a more permanent home, she hoped the press would back her attempt to adopt the kids she’d grown to love. She had Lizzie’s blessing, but the court would make the ultimate decision. And at this time in her life, she had little to offer the kids except love.

      “Are you all right?” she asked.

      Eric struggled to stand, tears running down his dusty cheeks to a quivering bottom lip. “That dumb dog—”

      “Gulliver didn’t mean to knock you down,” Kara said. “He thought you wanted to race and play.”

      “I know, but it really hurts, Kara.”

      She scooped the boy up in her arms, then carried him toward the cottage he shared with Lizzie. “We’ll get you cleaned up and bandaged. You’ll be good as new in no time.”

      “It stings, really bad.”

      “I know it does, honey.” Kara carried Eric to the office steps, then adjusted him in her arms so she could open the door. “I don’t think we should let Gulliver play soccer with us anymore. He’s too big and rough.”

      Eric blew at a scrape on his palm, then glanced at Kara. “But that would hurt his feelings, like when the kids at school don’t pick me to be on their team.”

      Kara sighed. “You’re right. I guess we’ll have to figure out something else.” She knew how cruel some kids could be. Freckle-face strawberry. Raggedy Kara Ann. Don’t play with Kara—she’s got cooties.

      Sometimes the sounds of childhood crept back to haunt her. She stilled them by remembering the kindness some of her teachers had shown—teachers like Miss Green who had shown compassion for a homeless girl by keeping a comb and brush set in her desk drawer.

      Every morning, Kara would stop by the classroom where she could wash her face and comb her hair before the first bell rang. Most days, Miss Green would have an extra barrette or ribbon. The teasing seemed to ease after that, which was probably why Kara was still obsessed with cleanliness. She might not have any clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs or secondhand purchases, but she owned an array of soaps, body lotions and hair products that would put a teenage girl to shame.

      As Kara nudged the door with her shoulder, Lizzie looked up from her desk. “Land sakes, what happened?”

      Michael watched her every bit as intently as Lizzie, but she hoped to get Eric into the bathroom

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