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      MILLS & BOON

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      I found the one my heart loves.

      —Song of Solomon 3:4

      This book is for Ron, my big brother, who chased me through the house, caught me and dragged me into the bathroom, put my foot in the toilet and flushed it. Many times! But he also took me to the drive-in with him and his girlfriends, made six-foot papier-mâché creatures for our homecoming parades, let me use his Corvette my senior year in high school and never ratted me out to our parents, even when he probably should have. I love you, Ron. Will you read my books now?

      Mom in the Middle is also for Gail and Pam, my older sisters, who shared a bedroom and all of their dreams with me. For the times I was a brat, I apologize. For the times I wasn’t there for you, forgive me. For the times I borrowed your things and brought them back ruined, that was all your fault. You knew better than to loan me anything of value! I love you both more than you can possibly know.

      Acknowledgments

      My thanks to Brittany, a stunning Georgia cowgirl who answered all my questions about rodeo and barrel racing.

      Let your beautiful light shine, honey!

      Thanks also to Patrick, my friend and tour guide who reconnected me with the fabulous city of Austin and with Lake Travis. Hook ’em Horns!

      Thanks to Kristy, Jennifer, Kristin and Candi, my priceless circle of friends who prayed me through a cloud of confusion and held my hand till I emerged on the other side. You ladies are my gift straight from God.

      Thanks to my fabulous critique partner Dianna, who told me what was wrong and how to fix it.

      Thanks always to my precious Maegan, who is my constant source of joy, encouragement and motivation.

      Most importantly, thank you, Michael, for your boundless love and bottomless forgiveness. Without you to take care of me I’d never make it through the days. You are my rock, my anchor and you make it all worth while. I adore you.

      Contents

      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

      Chapter Seventeen

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      “Mama!” Abby Cramer screamed.

      Her mother had suddenly collapsed, one leg folded awkwardly beneath her thin body. Abby kept a hand on the shopping cart that held her toddler and dropped to her knees on the concrete floor of the new home-improvement center.

      “What happened?” The young cashier bolted around her checkout counter and knelt beside Abby.

      Her mother clenched her teeth against the obvious pain. “My foot slipped out from under me.” She twisted at the waist in an effort to get up, then fell back with a gasp. The character lines in her pale face deepened with the grimace.

      Abby knew her very private parent would die of pain before she’d suffer the embarrassment of tears in public.

      “Don’t worry about your little boy. I’m right here beside him.” A woman’s voice penetrated Abby’s concern. She nodded thanks, let go of the cart and turned full attention to her mother, who once again strained to sit up.

      “Please lay still. You might have broken something.” Abby began the assessment she’d learned during first-aid training. The skills had served her well in her three years as an elementary school-teacher. Her mother’s hands fluttered like the wings of an angry bird, shooing away Abby’s efforts to feel for injuries.

      “Oh, I’ve just aggravated my old sciatic back. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.” She held her breath through a determined effort to ease her twisted leg from its abnormal position. Finally giving up, she rested her head on the floor.

      The store employee untied her apron, rolled the cloth into a pillow and maneuvered it beneath short-clipped, salt-and-pepper hair.

      “Don’t move. I’ll get Guy,” the cashier insisted as her sneakers squeaked a fast departure toward the back of the new store.

      Concerned onlookers stopped to offer assistance. Abby reached for her mother’s hand, only to be brushed away.

      Being the late-in-life only child of Sarah Reagan was both a blessing and a curse. Responsibility and kindness were civic requirements of the woman who was more like a finishing school headmistress than a doting parent. While Abby’s mother expected her daughter to help others, Sarah generally

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