Sheltered in His Arms. Tara Taylor Quinn
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in town with as little fuss as possible.
Now, sitting outside his childhood home, he felt like a fool. How could he take his fragile little girl in there, with no idea of what she’d have to face. Sam was all she had left in the world. How would she react if his parents were rude to him?
Or worse, indifferent? Cold?
A chill swept through him, in spite of the child sweating against him and the Arizona sunshine beating down on his truck. He had to turn around. Go back to Phoenix. He couldn’t risk creating any more anxiety or tension in Mariah’s life.
His parents were going to love her. He knew that. But he also knew he had to smooth her way. Give them a chance to speak their piece against him without her witnessing it.
And maybe he needed a little more time than he’d realized, as well—
“Sam?” The voice came from far off, but Sam’s heart recognized the call immediately. “Sam, is that really you, son?”
His mother came running out of the big front doors of Montford Mansion, almost tripped over her own feet as she came around to his side of the truck.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” he said under his breath, before pulling open the door. Mariah’s fingers dug into him, and she buried her face against his shoulder, just as his mother threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Oh, son, let me look at you,” she said, crying, smiling, trembling all at once. “I’ve missed you so mu—”
Her words broke off, and Sam, watching her face, knew she’d seen Mariah. Her eyes filled with wonder, with curiosity—and fresh tears—as she pulled back.
Sam grabbed hold of her hand.
Taking a deep breath, offering a short silent prayer, he ran his other hand down his daughter’s coal-black hair. “This is Mariah, Mom. I adopted her three months ago. She’s been waiting to meet you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“HEY! ZACK AND I are on our way to my folks’ for a barbeque and swim. You want to come along?”
Cassie jumped, her pen slashing across the journal subscription form she’d been filling out. The voice coming from her office doorway—when she’d thought herself alone in the clinic—gave her a shock. Not her partner’s voice, as she might have expected, but his wife’s. Zack would have made a lot of noise as he entered, to warn her that she wasn’t alone.
In case she’d been doing something private. Like crying…. Reaching for the remote just beyond her right hand, Cassie turned down the volume on the small television she’d been listening to while she worked.
“I’ve got reports to catch up on,” she said, smiling in spite of her refusal. Zack Foster had been her sole confidante and best friend for more than nine years. They’d met after she’d left Shelter Valley to finish her education in Phoenix. Now that he’d married Randi, she had a second best friend.
A friend who was far less predictable than Zack—
Randi leaned over Cassie’s desk, peering at the paperwork she’d just messed up. “Looks like important stuff to me,” Randi said, raising both eyebrows.
Cassie pointed to the pile of manila folders stacked in the tray on the far corner of her desk. “Those are the reports.”
“That pile doesn’t look as big as Zack’s.”
And he has time to take the day off, Cassie finished for her.
“He writes faster than I do.” She had no intention of crashing her friends’ family gathering, but Cassie didn’t mind continuing their banter. Even though she intended to stand by her refusal, she was actually enjoying herself. She enjoyed arguing with Randi over big issues and small ones. Randi’s professional sport days might be over, but the woman was a born competitor.
“Ah,” she was saying now, “but it takes Zack longer to figure out what to say.”
“And I have to supply forms to fill out. My medical supply rep is coming by first thing in the morning. Your husband tends to get a little testy when he doesn’t have the syringes he needs.”
Randi shoved aside the folders and perched on the corner of Cassie’s desk. “It’s not good for you to be here alone on a Sunday afternoon.”
Though Randi’s concern wasn’t necessary, Cassie was warmed by it. “The last million or so haven’t hurt me any.”
“That’s debatable.”
“I’m fine, Randi, really,” Cassie said, brushing a lock of red hair away from her face. She usually wore it pinned up or tied back, but since she’d been planning to spend the day alone, she hadn’t bothered with her hair. Or her clothes, either. She was wearing jeans she’d owned since high school.
Randi frowned, apparently not satisfied with Cassie’s assurances. But then, Randi was stubborn. It was hard for her to accept being wrong. It usually took her a couple of minutes to figure out that she was.
“How’d your meeting with Phyllis go yesterday?” Randi asked, referring to a mutual friend, psychiatrist Phyllis Langford.
“Wonderful,” Cassie said. “Even better than I’d expected.” Her enthusiasm for the pet therapy project she and Phyllis had discussed infused Cassie’s voice. “She gave me some great insights that I’m going to incorporate into my next article. And an idea for a case I worked on back east this winter. A woman who’d lost several babies and was suffering from acute depression. Phyllis thinks a puppy might satisfy her mothering instinct to some extent, perhaps helping her accept adoption as another choice.”
Randi scoffed, though Cassie knew full well that during the past months, working with Zack on his nursing-home project, Randi had been won over to the miracles that happened regularly through pet therapy. “You think a puppy who pees everywhere in the house, chews up her shoes and bites at her ankles is going to help the poor woman?”
“Brat’s giving you problems, eh?” Cassie grinned. Zack had adopted the dalmatian puppy the week before, when the owner of its mother had despaired of finding the runt of the litter a home. Randi, though, had been the one to name him— Miserable Little Brat, or Brat for short.
“It’s Zack’s dog,” Randi said, rubbing at the leather on her pristine white tennis shoe.
Cassie knew better. She’d been over at Randi and Zack’s for pizza a few days earlier and had seen Montford University’s seemingly tough women’s athletic director cuddling that puppy.
Until Randi had noticed Zack and Cassie looking. Then she’d shooed him away, pretending to scold, while passing him a pepperoni slice under the table by way of apology.
“I don’t know why he thought we needed another dog,” she muttered. “As if Sammie and Bear aren’t trouble enough.”
Two of their trained pet therapy dogs, Sammie and Bear weren’t any trouble at all. In fact, Zack had told Cassie that on a couple of occasions Randi had made excuses to take Sammie to work with her. Apparently, the dog was quickly becoming the mascot of the women’s athletic department.
Cassie had Randi’s number. The woman was strong when she needed to be and maintained an effective façade of toughness. But in reality, she was indeed the princess her family had always thought her. Tender, loving, frequently indulged. And kinder than anyone Cassie had ever known. With Zack’s encouragement, she’d gotten over her lifelong fear of dogs, and a latent love of animals had begun to emerge.
Although she and Cassie had graduated from Shelter Valley High School the same year, had grown up together in Shelter Valley—population two thousand when the university wasn’t in session—the two women had hardly known each other. Cassie had been completely besotted with her one true love, Samuel Montford the fourth, the town’s esteemed future mayor and savior of the world. And Randi had been absent a lot of the time, training