Chapter One

      To Angela Wiznowski the sweetest sound in the world was her daughter’s giggle: a bubbly gurgle erupting from her throat.

      Angie leaned against the half-brick pillar on the porch of her bungalow-style house and watched Erin play in the front yard with her friends on a Slip ’N Slide. Today was her tenth birthday, and she’d had a fun-filled day. As the girls played with the water hose, shrieks and girlish laughter echoed through the late-May afternoon in Horseshoe, Texas.

      Being a single mom hadn’t been easy, but Angie must have done something right. Her daughter was happy. It was what Angie had done wrong that kept her awake at night.

      The whole Wiznowski family had been there today, along with Angie’s friends and neighbors. Everyone had come. Everyone except Erin’s father.

      Angie had made that decision a long time ago, but the remnants of guilt lingered. Maybe because it had been the wrong decision. A child had a right to know her father.

      It was clear now. Back then, though, everything wasn’t so black-and-white. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to tell him, but he’d left town three days after they’d slept together for an extended vacation in Europe. Her attempts to contact him had failed. When he’d returned, he had an internship waiting for him in Houston. Angie had still tried to reach him, but when she found out he was engaged to someone else, she was devastated and unsure of what to do.

      At eighteen, she’d felt alone and afraid. Keeping Erin’s parentage a secret had never been a deliberate choice. It had just turned out that way. She couldn’t tell him when he was set to marry another woman.

      In college, Angie had met someone else, too, so fate had stepped in and the secret had stayed a secret. Part of her, the part that niggled at her late at night, knew Erin had missed a lot by not knowing her biological father.

      Life went on, though. Her marriage had dissolved and she’d moved home to raise Erin alone. Although she wasn’t alone, surrounded by her very large family in Horseshoe. Sometimes it just felt that way.

      To make matters worse, two years ago Erin’s father had returned to the small town and ran for the district attorney’s office and won. He was now the D.A. Angie saw him almost every day. They had polite conversations like “How are you?” or “How’s your family?” or “How are things at the bakery?” They were like strangers, as if that night had never happened. As if Erin had never happened.

      Angie wrestled with her conscience daily, especially since his wife wasn’t with him. Horseshoe was a small town and gossip was like a balloon—the more air blown into it, the bigger it became, and soon it was floating all over town with nothing to hold it up but a lot of hot air puffed up with half-truths.

      Still, everyone listened to the gossip. It was better than boredom. The story was his marriage had ended years ago and he’d come home because his father’s health was failing. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d marched to the courthouse to speak with him. He had a right to know, and she had to tell him even though her daughter might hate her.

      But he was always in court or out of the office. She’d been waiting for the right time. When it came, he’d introduced her to his new girlfriend and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Maybe she was just a coward. Fear kept her tied to her secret