LITMIR.BIZ

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family left but he never told me much about you, Abby. Do you have family?” Cade asked.

      “None that I know of.” She smiled at his questioning look. “I was three when I was adopted. My parents were older, very strict and the most loving people I’ve ever known. I adored them. To me they’re my true parents. I never wanted or needed anyone else. I guess that’s why I never felt compelled to discover my birth history.”

      “I see.” Cade sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “Your adoptive parents are gone now?” His brows drew together when she nodded. “So there’s no one you can contact for help?”

      “I’m afraid not.” Warmth rose at the concern Abby saw on his face. How wonderful it felt to have someone worry about her, even for a moment. “I’m not your problem, Cade. I’ll figure out something.” As if she hadn’t tried. He didn’t need to know that, although he’d probably guessed she was out of options.

      “Max said you were a social worker.”

      “I am.” Abby leaned back, closed her eyes and smiled. “The day I learned in third grade that not every kid had parents like mine was the day I decided I was going to be the one to help kids find the best parents they could. It’s a job I love. I’d still be doing it, too, if the government hadn’t cut back and laid me off.”

      Abby could feel his sympathy, could see it in the softening of his baby-blue eyes. The rancher was big and comfortable and—nice, she decided, choosing the simple word. Cade was genuinely nice.

      “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

      “I’m sorry, too,” she said, trying to disguise the sourness that sometimes bubbled inside. “There aren’t any less children who need help. And there are even fewer workers to handle all the cases. But—” She shrugged. “What can I do? I was out of work and I couldn’t find another job, no matter how hard I looked.”

      “And then you learned you were pregnant.” Cade looked straight at her. “That must have been a frightening time, to be alone, without a job, knowing you’re going to have twins. I wish you’d told me when I called. I would have come to help you, you know.”

      “I do know.” Touched, she reached out to brush his hand with her fingers, to comfort him. “But I felt I had to handle things on my own.”

      Abby’s heart melted as she watched Cade helplessly rake a hand through his very short black hair. His lean, chiseled face had lost some of its harshness, though the lines around his eyes and full lips remained and the cleft in his chin deepened with his frown.

      “It’s okay, Cade,” she murmured.

      “It isn’t okay at all. Max would never have allowed you to handle this alone.” His voice tightened, dropped to a low growl. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you, Abby.”

      “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just a problem I have to figure out.” She was glad their server brought their meals just then. Maybe eating would ease the strain that was building and help them both avoid awkward, useless moments of regret. She scrounged up a smile. “I haven’t had a turkey dinner in aeons,” she said, licking rich gravy off her fork.

      “Christmas wasn’t that long ago.” Cade paused, lifted his head and stared at her. His pupils widened. “You didn’t have Christmas dinner, did you?” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh, Abby.”

      She’d made him feel guilty again. She knew because she carried her own load. But she didn’t want Cade’s guilt. So what did she want? Because Abby didn’t want to explore that thought she set down her fork and reassured him.

      “Actually I did have Christmas dinner, Cade. I’ve been volunteering at a kids’ shelter and they served a lovely meal.” She chuckled. “But I didn’t have much time to enjoy it.”

      “Why?” Cade crunched on a pickle as he waited for her to explain.

      “One of the kids ran away, so we went looking for her.” Abby liked the way Cade chewed slowly, appreciating the nuances of flavor in his food. “Searching took most of the day. By the time we found her, I was too tired to eat. Anyway, everything was cold.”

      She picked up her fork and chose a square of dark meat. Fork midway to her mouth, she blinked and paused, suddenly uneasy under his scrutiny. “What?”

      “Can I ask you something?” He waited for her nod, forehead furrowed, his left hand, the one lying on the table, clenching and unclenching. “You spoke of giving up Max’s, er, your babies?”

      Abby swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

      “But—you can’t!” he protested, his voice sounding loud in the almost-deserted dining room. His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a grim line as he spoke in a lowered tone. “Abby, you cannot possibly be considering giving away Max’s children!”

      “Do you think I want to?” she gasped as tears welled. “These are my children, part of me.” She set down her fork, no longer hungry. Emotions rose through her like a tidal wave but she forced them back in the struggle to make him understand. “These children are the most precious thing in my life. I would do anything, anything—” she emphasized “—to give them the best life they can possibly have.”

      “Then why in the world—”

      “The best life,” she repeated softly through the tears filling her throat. “Max’s children deserve that. But homelessness, lack of money, a life on the street—that is not the best life for them. Yet, at the moment, that’s all I can offer them.” She shook her head. “No child deserves that. I have to at least consider foster care.”

      “Lack of money?” he said, honing in on her words. “But won’t Max’s military benefits cover everything you need?”

      “I haven’t received any.”

      “What?” Cade stared at her in disbelief. He shook his head. “Why?”

      “The military says he never informed them he was married, never filled out the forms. He was also behind on paying his insurance premiums, probably because of the down payment we made on the house,” she said with a sad smile.

      “But it’s been months since—” Cade clamped his lips together.

      “Since he died, I know.” She sighed. “I sent them a copy of our marriage license, but they say that until they are able to verify its authenticity or legality or something, I can’t receive any funds. That’s why I didn’t have enough to pay the mortgage or power bills or...” Tears erupted in a flow Abby couldn’t staunch. She bent her head and let them fall, ashamed of her weakness but utterly weary of fighting.

      Cade fell silent. After she regained control, Abby peeked through her lashes and found him staring at her, his blue eyes brimming with anger or perhaps disbelief? When he opened his mouth, his voice emerged in a squeak of protest that Abby shushed by reaching across and grabbing his clenched fist.

      “It’s true,” she assured him.

      “I know you’re not lying, Abby.” He drew his hand away as if he didn’t like her touching him. He leaned back and thought it over for several moments, then jerked his head in a nod. “It’s just that I never heard of the military withholding benefits when...”

      “Well, that’s what they’ve done.” Abby sighed. “I think it might kill me to give up my babies, even for a short time,” she told him. “But I have to face the facts, and that’s a choice I might have to make if I can’t give them a home, food, safety. I have no intention of failing my children.” As I did Max.

      Cade studied her for several long minutes. She knew something had changed when his broad shoulders went back and determination welled up in his blue eyes. He reached across the table, his hand closing around hers, squeezing tightly. Abby could only stare at him as the rough calluses on his skin brushed hers and wonder what the rush of emotions across his handsome face meant.

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