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Prologue
December scuttled along the streets of Marietta with a flurry of snowflakes that melted quickly on the girl’s eyelashes and cheeks as she hurried alone toward the bus depot at the outskirts of town. Her thin coat wasn’t warm enough, but she pulled it tight around her face and throat. Her argyle beanie had seen better days, too, having been plucked from a lost and found bin at her friend’s school. But beggars can’t be choosers, so they say.
She did her best to ignore the Christmas lights strung up everywhere with two weeks left until the big day. Giant lit-up snowflakes dangled across Main Street and there was even a flying Santa in his sleigh stretching across the road somewhere back there, too. She didn’t want to think about Santa Claus, or Christmas—especially Christmas—or … or anything else right now. Because it wouldn’t change anything. It would only remind her that she’d done the unforgiveable.
She brushed away the moisture on her cheeks and lowered her head. The streets were busy with shoppers, but not one of them noticed her.
Invisible. That was her.
Better that way.
In fact, if she could simply drop down in a hole and disappear that would be the absolute best thing for everyone. Not that anyone would notice.
Well, maybe one person would.
She clapped a cold, bare hand over her mouth and sank her teeth into the skin of her palm until the pain chased back tears that threatened.
It was for the best. It was all for the best.
Ahead, she saw the blinking florescent sign for the Greyhound bus station and the heavy grinding of a bus engine as one pulled away from the overhang.
Pushing through the glass doors, she welcomed the heat inside and sucked in a deep breath. The place was mostly empty. Only a few losers like her, huddling inside, probably for the warmth. She ignored them and stepped up to the counter where a middle-aged man with a trim gray beard sat scribbling on some kind of clipboard. His nametag read NICK.
He looked up at her and smiled. “Merry Christmas, young lady! How can I help you?”
She was taken aback by the kindness in his voice. “I … I need a ticket.”
“All righty.” He squinted at her and seemed to be taking in her blotchy, red face. He didn’t say a word about the way she looked, but his smile did lose some of its sparkle. “Where to, my friend?”
Undecided, she looked up at the board posted behind him and the schedule of buses leaving tonight. Buses to faraway places she’d never been. And probably never would. She pushed her fingernail into her palm as she pulled her money out of her other pocket and pushed it toward the man. It wasn’t much. Fifty-four dollars and a handful of change. Everything she’d managed to cobble together since…
“How far will this get me?”
Nick frowned. “Well, now. Let’s see, young lady.” He took his clipboard and studied it. “I guess it would help if you had a destination in mind.”
“Somewhere … somewhere warm?”
“Ah. I see. Marietta winters are not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. Warm. Well, I’m afraid this won’t get you too far. Boise? Missoula? That’s quite a bit warmer than here. Less bitter wind. Neither of ’em is Miami-warm, but…”
“Boise,” she said. “I’ll take Boise. Please.”
He stared up at her with warm brown eyes. She looked away, unable to bear kindness now. Or ever again probably. She willed him not to say anything more. To not ask any questions or wonder if she had any family there or friends. She didn’t. But it was none of his business. People who worked in a place like this already knew that. Their job was not to wonder.
“Boise.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, now.” Checking his clipboard again, he nodded. “That is a coincidence. Somebody just called and canceled their Boise ticket tonight. But since it was nonrefundable, it’s just going to go to waste. I don’t suppose anyone would mind if you took that seat instead.”
He pushed her money back across the counter to her.
She stared at him in shock. “You mean … free?”
“Let’s call it prepaid. Your name?”
She blinked at him for a long heartbeat. “Ta—” She caught herself. “Smith. Mary Smith.”
He nodded, typing in a few things on his computer. A ticket popped up through the little slot on the counter and on the backside, he scribbled something before he handed it to her. “Bus leaves in thirty minutes. Through that door there. You take care now, Mary Smith. And Merry Christmas to you.”
Stuffing her money back in her coat pocket, she looked in the direction he was pointing and swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” she squeaked in a voice she wasn’t sure he’d heard. “Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat.
“You’re most welcome.”
There were some people who could just comfort you with a smile. He was one of those, and it warmed her, even as she made her way to the bus.
Nick was lying about that ticket, and she didn’t deserve such a kindness. But she would take it all the same. What choice did she have?
She glanced at the ticket and turned it over in her hand. There was a name written on it and an address in Boise. But why would he—Confused, she turned back to him, but someone else was already at the counter. So, she stuffed the ticket in her pocket and walked away.
It was dark outside now. Maybe she’d get to Boise by morning. Maybe she could buy another ticket farther south after that. Maybe she’d just keep going until she reached the Pacific Ocean. And maybe, someday, she’d forgive herself.
No, she thought, heading toward the door. After tonight, she never, ever would.
Chapter One
Cami Hardesty could feel a headache coming on watching her assistant director, Trina Parker, steer their Christmas pageant’s littlest angel by the shoulder away from the wailing going on in the wings on the opposite side of the stage. Oh no. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was—
“Harrison Deitmore,” Trina said before Cami could finish the thought. “Our wise man.” She was holding six-year-old Eloise Claymore on her little shoulder. “Apparently, Eloise here hit him in the nose. And … there’s, um … blood.”
Eloise, wearing the little cardboard sign around her neck that identified her as one of the pageant’s angels, looked anything but at the moment. Defiant was more like it, as she lifted her asthma inhaler to her mouth and pushed the button.
Harrison, the wise man in question, was in second grade at Marietta Elementary where Cami worked as a third-grade teacher. He already had a reputation as a bit of a bully, and she had been careful to keep an eye on his interactions with the others. His overbearing mother had insisted on him getting a part in this pageant and Cami had made room for all the children who wanted to participate. But she was only one person and couldn’t be in all places at once.
She glanced at her watch. Seven fifteen. Rehearsal was officially over, and parents had already begun trickling in for pickup, gathering up their kids’ winter coats and mittens.
Cami leaned into Trina. “And we were this close to a clean getaway.”
Trina grinned, then forced a frown as Eloise caught her amusement. “I wasn’t smiling. That wasn’t a smile. Hitting our friends is not good.” She tossed a helpless look at Cami. “Okay. Going to find ice now.”
After Trina left, Eloise choked back a little cough. “He’s not my friend. He’s mean. And he called me Ella-wheezy—” She offered up her inhaler as evidence. “And he pushed me first.”
“Still. Eloise,” Cami said, leaning down to the little girl with wounded blue eyes and hair the color of roasted chestnuts. “Are you having trouble breathing? Who’s picking you up? Your mom?”
Eloise shook her head.
“Your dad then?” She glanced around at the parents coming through the chapel doors. She’d seen several people attached to Eloise and had no clear idea of which one was her father.
“If he finishes delivering Chloe’s baby in time,” the child said.
Delivering a baby? If her father was a doctor, then at least she guessed he’d be reasonable—
“If he’s not done yet,” Eloise said, “it’ll be Rebecca. If not Rebecca, it’ll be—”
“Hey-ho!” called a handsome, youngish man with a mop of curly blond hair breezing in from the back of the chapel. There was a dusting of snow in his hair and his eyes were a pretty sky blue. “What’s up, li’l Jyn-gerbread?” he said, unwrapping a colorful scarf from his neck as he high-fived the child.
“Gingerbread?” Cami repeated with a smile as Eloise hugged him fiercely.
“He means Jyn from Star Wars,” Eloise said. “She was a rebel fighter. Right, Luke?”
“That’s right. You ready to go?” he asked against her hair.
She nodded and turned back a little teary-eyed.
“Hey, what’s this?” he asked her gently. “You crying?”
“Um…” Cami stepped forward. “Hi. You’re…”
“Oh!” He thrust his hand out to her. “I’m Luke Claymore. Her uncle. Ella’s my niece.”
“Oh. Nice to meet you,” Cami said. “Could-could we have a word?”
Eloise frowned. “She’s going to tell you that I hit Harrison in the nose.”
“Whoa!” he said with a surfer-boy inflection. His gaze instantly found the wailing Harrison and his clearly upset mother on the other side of the chapel. “You socked him? Did he deserve it?”
She nodded emphatically.
“Well, then.” He bent down and high-fived her again. Then to Cami, he said, “Yeah. The Force is strong in this one.”
Cami cleared her throat. “Actually, no, it’s … it’s not okay to hit our … um … classmates. We need to use our words, right, Eloise?”
Luke straightened, sobering. “Oh. Right. Using words is good. Unless he was being—”
“He was,” Eloise said. “And anyway, I didn’t exactly punch him. I kind of hit him with my elbow. On accident.”
At which point, Harrison’s mother, Claire Deitmore, stormed over with her son, clutching a bloody tissue against his nose. Cami knew her from the local PTA. She was one of those moms who wore the trendiest clothes, drove the coolest car, and always managed to snag the only private parental parking spot at school through the annual silent auction. And she was fiercely protective of her son.
“Excuse me, is this your child?” Claire asked Luke. “Did you see what she did to my son? She gave him a bloody nose!”
“Mrs. Deitmore. Harrison.” Cami stepped between them. “I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sure it must have been an accident and he’ll be fine. Trina just went to get some ice for you.”
“An accident? He said she punched him.”
“Elbowed,” Luke said, with his arm around his niece. “Accidentally.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Mrs. Deitmore asked Luke. “A child like that is a danger to…”
Luke’s sky-blue eyes narrowed. “Just hold on there—”
“Eloise is certainly not a danger,” Cami said. “I’m sure this whole thing is a misunderstanding and she’ll apologize.”
“No, I won’t,” Eloise said unequivocally. “I’m not the only one he’s mean to either. It’s the principle of the thing.”
Cami blinked at her, wondering how Eloise Claymore had managed to fly under her radar this long. The principle of the thing? How old was she again?
“You see there? She won’t apologize,” Claire Deitmore said. “What kind of a parent are you that you allow your child to—”
“Sorry I’m late,” came another breathless voice from behind them.
Cami turned to find a man who closely resembled Eloise’s uncle, but with darker hair and a cold-whipped handsome face. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it in time, Luke.”
“Daddy!” Eloise launched herself at her father and buried her face against his chest.
Oh, this was seriously spinning out of her control. Cami tried to remember why she had agreed to direct this Christmas pageant in the first place. Oh, right. Saying no was not part of her vocabulary.
Eloise’s father frowned at Luke, looking for an explanation. Luke scratched his chin and turned to Cami.
“So,” Harrison’s mother said. “You’re this little terror’s father.”
“Excuse me?”
She dangled the bloody tissue at him. “She did this to my son. And I believe he’s owed an apology and, I think, she deserves some disciplinary action.”
“Uh, to be fair,” Luke said, “according to Ella, he pushed her first.”
Mrs. Deitmore gaped at him. “He most certainly did not. My little Harrison is an angel. He would never—”
“It’s … actually not the first time, Mrs. Deitmore,” Cami said.
“Wh-what are you saying? That he’s—that my son is a bully?”
“Maybe,” Eloise’s father said. “Yeah.”
“No…” Cami said quickly. “I’m—we’re not saying anything of the kind. It’s just that this unfortunate incident wasn’t one sided and perhaps they can just shake hands and move past this.”
Several of the other parents skirted around their little cluster of disputes, sending Cami sympathetic looks of support on their way out the door.
“She may have broken my son’s nose!”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not—” Eloise’s father began.
“What? Are you a doctor?” Mrs. Deitmore asked.
Cami bit her lip.
“He actually is,” Luke said, pointing at his brother. “A doctor.”
All eyes turned to his brother. A frown replaced the bewilderment on his face. “No, I—I am, but I’m a—”
The woman shoved her son close to him. “Here, then you can tell. Is his nose broken?”
With a frown, Eloise’s father checked the boy’s nose and gave it a quick gentle feel. “I don’t believe so, but you should check with your own physician in the—”
“Oh, we will be,” she said, as Trina reappeared with the ice.
She gently placed it against the boy’s nose.
“And we’ll be expecting that apology.” She turned and sent a searing look in Cami’s direction before stalking off with her son out the church doors.
A pregnant pause followed as Cami and Eloise’s father and uncle turned back to one another. “She’ll be writing an apology note tonight.”
“But—” Eloise began to protest.
“No buts. You can tell me your side on the way home. But you’re writing it regardless.”
“I really am sorry about all this,” Cami said, holding out her hand to him. “I’m Cami Hardesty. I don’t believe we’ve actually met.”
“August Claymore. Gus to most.”
“Wait.” Cami blinked. “As in … Gus Claymore the large animal vet my brother keeps raving about?”
He looked surprised. “The same. And you’re Liam’s sister, Cami.” This wasn’t a question. He seemed to already know who she was.
“Guilty. And so,” she went on, “the Chloe Eloise mentioned who was having a baby is actually a—”
“Cow.”
She bit back a laugh, imagining Claire Deitmore’s reaction when she figured it out. “I see. So little boys’ noses are not actually up your alley.”
“Give me a good horse or cow muzzle any day.” One corner of his mouth went up. “Chloe’s one of Bing Driscoll’s—you might know him—one of his prized Scottish Highland cows. She was having a bit of trouble this afternoon, but it all worked out. She’s got herself a pretty little heifer calf.”
Which would explain the speckles of blood on his shirt collar and the way his slightly long hair was sticking out at the back.
Well, well. Gus Claymore.
Liam had never said anything about him being gorgeous. A little Justin Hartley-ish, with a side of deep, brown eyes and an intriguing dimple that came and went on his left cheek when he wasn’t paying attention to his scowl.
She turned to watch Eloise wander down the church aisle in an apparent deliberate attempt to avoid any more discussion on the topic of Harrison. “Look,” Cami said, “I’m sure Harrison will be fine. The whole thing was not entirely Eloise’s fault.”
“She’s a good kid. With lots of opinions.” He grinned at that admission.
“A girl with opinions is a girl who’s going places. In my opinion.”
“I’d have to agree with that,” he said, softening a bit. “Still, she’s been a little at loose ends since we moved this time. But she’s really loved coming here, doing the pageant. She’s talked about you nonstop.”
“Really?” Heat crept up her cheeks.
At six, Eloise was a few grades lower than her own students at Marietta Elementary, but she’d seen her at school, most often alone.
“Ya’ll are kind of new to town, aren’t you?”
“We’ve been here about five months. Working with Dr. Anders at his clinic.” He glanced in his daughter’s direction as she wandered through the pews. “You’re not going to kick her out over this, are you?”
“What? Of course not. Don’t worry. This will all work itself out. It always does.”
He shifted uncomfortably as Luke sent a curious look between them. “Well, if you guys don’t mind, since you’re here for Ella, I’m gonna take off. I’m gonna stop for a coffee on the way home. You good?” he asked Gus.
He nodded. “Thanks for showing up.”
“Always. See you at home.”
As Luke headed back out into the cold, Gus turned back to Cami. “We’d better get going, too. She must be hungry for dinner, and I’ve got to-go food in the car. It was nice to meet you.”
“And you, too. Finally.”
But as he turned to go, Eloise appeared behind him holding an armful of blankets.
“Daddy, look. Somebody left it near Ms. Hardesty’s stuff.”
Cami frowned. “Blankets?”
“No,” Eloise said, her eyes full of wonder as something in the blankets made a mewling sound. “This.” She tugged the pink blankets aside to reveal a baby.
A small, practically newborn baby.
Cami and Gus gasped at once “Oh, my—!” Cami reached for the bundle, carefully taking it out of Eloise’s arms.
“Where did you find it?” Frantically, they both searched the church to see who was missing a child. But there was practically no one left inside the chapel.
Eloise pointed to a pew at the back of the church. “She was all alone. Can we keep her?”
Gus wrapped a protective arm around his daughter. “Show us where you found her.”
The child promptly pointed out the very pew where the baby had been, and not only was there no one looking for the child, there was no baby carrier or any other sign that connected it with any parent nearby.
She turned in circles, hoping to see someone she hadn’t seen before, but no. Eloise was right. Someone had left this child here alone.
Her eyes met Gus Claymore’s in something of a panic. “Who could do this?”
He shook his head as bewildered as she was. She pried the blankets aside to get a better look at the baby. A frown furled the baby’s tiny mouth as she cranked up a weak cry. She didn’t look more than a few days old, but already she was a beautiful baby. There was no mistaking her for anything but female. Her hair was faintly blonde, and her tiny, dark lashes were damp with tears. As Cami pulled the blankets aside, she heard the crinkle of paper and pulled a folded sheet of lined school paper out from beneath the blanket.
And in pencil, in shaky handwriting, the note began, DEAR MS. HARDESTY.
End of Excerpt
