Faith’s sweaty palm stuck to the banister. She wiped her hand on her pant leg as she followed Luke and Reva up the stairs to his mother’s room. Although the initial meeting with Reva went well—the woman had been pleasant enough—Faith could tell that Reva didn’t like having another woman in what she obviously considered her domain.

      As they’d passed through the living room, Faith noted the lack of Christmas decorations. Maybe these people didn’t celebrate the birth of Jesus. Whether they did or not wasn’t relative to her safety.

      Luke knocked on a door at the end of the hallway. Little butterflies fluttered in the pit of Faith’s stomach. If Luke’s mother didn’t like her, then what would she do? The ranch represented a security she’d only hoped of. She wanted to stay. Please, oh, please, dear Lord, let her like me.

      At his mother’s muffled, “Come in,” Luke pushed open the door and stepped aside so Reva and Faith could enter. As Faith passed him, he gave her a reassuring smile and some of the butterflies in her stomach danced for an altogether different reason.

      A blast of heat hit her in the face as she stepped into the room. The bedroom was at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the house. Sweat beads broke out and trickled down Faith’s neck. The dark haired woman lying on the canopied oak bed looked wilted and weak beneath the heavy covers pulled up to her chin.

      “Ugh, Reva, it’s hot in here,” Luke exclaimed. “I’ve told you a hundred times not to touch the thermostat.”

      “But, Luke, honey, the doctor said she wasn’t to get a chill.”

      In long strides, Luke moved to one window and yanked it open. Almost immediately a cooling breeze entered the room.

      “Oh, that feels wonderful.” Mrs. Campbell sighed. “I kept asking her to turn down the heat, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

      Luke paused in the act of pulling the quilt off his mother and looked at Reva. The color of his eyes had darkened to a steely blue and his jaw tightened in anger. Faith stepped back.

      “I was only doing what I thought best. She’s still recovering from her ordeal,” Reva said defensively.

      “The way she makes it sound, I’m still knocking on death’s door,” Luke’s mother muttered.

      “It’s only been two weeks. You know—”

      “Enough, Reva.”

      Luke’s command abruptly stopped Reva mid-whine. She made a face and sat on the edge of a small desk by the window.

      Faith marveled that at least one grown man was mature enough to contain his anger.

      “Mom, I have someone here I’d like you to meet.” Luke’s voice softened.

      The eager-to-please tone and the way his voice dropped a notch brought a pang to Faith’s heart. This big man loved his mother and it showed. She’d loved her parents like that. If only they were still alive.

      He motioned for Faith to step closer.

      “This is Faith. I’ve hired her to help care for you.”

      Faith approached the bed. The gentle eyes regarding her made her think of her own mother. It had been years since anyone had looked at her with such kindness. She knew instantly she’d like the older woman.

      Taking the offered hand, she noticed Mrs. Campbell’s skin felt hot and clammy against her palm. “Mrs. Campbell, Luke tells me you’re recovering from a heart attack. My grandfather suffered an attack and I cared for him. I—I hope you’ll allow me to care for you.”

      “Please, call me Dottie. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

      From behind her, Faith heard Reva snort in disbelief. She turned to stare at Reva. Such disrespect was reprehensible.

      “Reva, please,” Luke warned.

      Studying her nails, Reva said, “Luke, dear, the housekeeping still needs to be done. Or are you expecting her to do that, too?”

      “No, I’m not expecting Faith to do the housekeeping.”

      “Good.” Reva hopped off the edge of the desk and stood. “I’m sure Blake would be happy to know I’m helping out. I’ll just stay on and do the housekeeping.”

      Faith glanced at Luke. His annoyance was evident in the creases along his brow. Turning his gaze to his mother, he raised a brow as if to ask what she thought. Dottie grimaced with a shrug.

      Suddenly, Reva was standing close, pinning Faith against the bed. Trying to gracefully disengage herself from Dottie’s hand, Faith shifted to allow Reva more room. Dottie’s grip tightened and for a second Faith thought she saw a trace of apprehension in the older woman’s blue eyes. She guessed there was more going on between the two women than met the eye.

      Though the danger was minimal, the familiar need to protect rose sharply. Patting Dottie’s hand reassuringly, Faith stood her ground, becoming a physical barrier between Dottie and Reva.

      “Your dad promised me I’d have a place here, Luke. He did consider me a part of the family, especially after you took off.”

      The muscles in Luke’s jaw visibly tightened. “My father and I came to an understanding long ago.” Glancing at his mother, he asked, “Mom? This is your house now.”

      “If she wants to do the housekeeping, I suppose that’s fine,” Dottie muttered.

      Luke gave a curt nod. “Fine. Just stick to the housekeeping, Reva.”

      “Of course, dear.”

      Faith noticed the small, triumphant gleam in Reva’s gray eyes. She decided she didn’t like the woman very much. She would have to be careful and keep her distance. Faith couldn’t trust that Reva wouldn’t look for an opportunity to get rid of her.

      “Do you smell something burning?” Dottie struggled to sit up. Luke immediately reached to help her.

      “Oh, my word! My casserole,” Reva exclaimed. “There’s something wrong with that oven,” she muttered as she headed for the door. “It’s forever burning things.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with my oven,” Dottie groused at Reva’s retreating back. “I’ve never burned anything in it.”

      “Of course not, mother.” Luke’s smile reflected in his eyes.

      Dottie smiled back, and for a moment, the two silently communicated, their bond evident. Feeling like an intruder, Faith moved to the desk and ran a hand over the polished wood.

      Deep inside, she felt a familiar emptiness. She would give anything to have someone love her the way Luke loved his mother. In her heart she longed for children, a family. But the possibility of having them was out of reach. She could be discovered at any time, and then what? A shudder racked her body.

      Picking up the pitcher that sat on the desk, she poured a glass of water and carried it back to the bed. “Would you like some water, Dottie?”

      “Thank you, dear.” Dottie smiled and took the glass. “Sit and tell me about you.”

      Faith pulled up a chair. She couldn’t very well tell Dottie the truth. So she did what she normally did and changed the subject. “You have a very nice home, Dottie. I noticed several good antique pieces.”

      Dottie’s face lit up. “You know antiques? How wonderful.”

      A safe subject. Thank goodness. Faith smiled. “Yes, I do. You have good quality pieces.”

      “Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll go get some work done.” Luke kissed Dottie’s cheek.

      “You go on, son. We’ll be just fine.” Dottie settled back with