Copyright 2011 Vivian Arend
All rights reserved - a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Chapter One

I’m fine, boys, stop your fussing. Marion Coleman shook her good hand at the twins as they hovered nearby. I didn’t need the wheelchair. It’s a silly hospital policy. She shot to her feet, batting Jesse and Joel away.

Blake offered his help, and she smiled, the edges of her mouth remaining tight and the lines at the corner of her eyes deep. She might make light of the situation but it was clear her arm hurt. A lot. She tucked her fingers around his elbow and dragged him across the hospital parking lot, her rapid pace unhampered by the heavy cast covering her right arm from wrist to shoulder.

They stopped beside one of the huge crew-cab ranch trucks, the twins scrambling into the backseat. Marion stared in disgust at the hand pull she couldn’t reach.

Why did you boys all have to grow to over six feet? None of you own a nice little Jetta or Mustang for me to be able to slide into. Just these monster trucks. I have to use a ladder to reach the seat.

You fed us too well. Blake worked at remaining gentle as he lifted her to the bench, careful not to jar her arm. He’d closed the door and stepped around to the driver’s side before he realized it was impossible for her to buckle her seat belt with the cast in the way. He slid behind the wheel and reached to help her. Let me get it, Ma. You’re going to find things a bit awkward for a spell.

I hate this. Marion stared past him out the window, a touch of fury in her eyes.

Maybe you should have waited for help picking the apples, Joel piped up from the backseat.

She did ask, you jerk, remember?...