Gracie took a deep breath to calm herself. She looked at her mother, who also had tears pouring from her dark brown eyes, so much like Hope’s. This made sense. Kind of. She did look different. She had always known this, she had always assumed she looked like her father, whom she didn’t remember. So this was the truth.

  Another breath; she nodded, needed to think. No one said a word. Gracie appreciated the silence. She took another drink of water, then smoothed out the sheet. “Okay,” she said. “I see. It actually makes sense. I am different, tall; you obviously had a convenient explanation for my appearance. Dad’s dying so young was a bonus,” she said, more to herself than to them.

  “Gracie, it wasn’t like that. This was not planned, and your father—grandfather—adored you. He agreed with me, for your sake and Hope’s. She was young. As her mother, I felt this was my responsibility, too. Surely you can understand?” Ella pleaded.

  “I suppose so.” She nodded. If she had been in Hope’s position, as a young girl, she would have agreed to this, too. But still, it shocked her. Yet it explained so many things. The missing pictures in that old album. Never any pictures of Ella when she was pregnant with her. Add the lack of physical likeness, and it all made sense. “So, do I get to know the unlucky guy, or what?” Gracie asked.

  “He wasn’t unlucky, Gracie; he didn’t know about you. And I promise you that he does now, and he’s”—she searched for the right word—“blown away.”

  “And what happened; how did he suddenly learn I existed thirty-two years later?” She looked at her mom, then Hope.

  “Because he sort of saved your life,” Hope said.

  “Sort of? How did that come about?”

  “Ronan O’Connor is your father. He’s lived in Dallas since his college days. He transferred here just recently, but I didn’t know until I saw him at the hospital,” Hope said, utterly and completely filled with a sadness unlike any she had known.

  “Really?” Gracie said, in a sort of perked-up tone.

  “He is,” Hope confirmed.

  “Then I want to see him. Now, if that can be arranged,” she said. Each word became more powerful, yet Hope detected a little bit of excitement in her sister. Her daughter. Hope stepped out of the room for a minute, returning with Dr. Ronan O’Connor.

  “Hey, Gracie, how are you feeling, physically?” he asked.

  This tall, handsome, brilliant man was her father! She offered a little smile. “Okay, I do have a headache, but I’ll live with it. How about you? What about this parent thing?” she asked.

  He sat down on the edge of her bed. “I think what happened to you is divine intervention. I think I have a purpose now. I didn’t know about you, Gracie. If I had, I promise you I would have been in your life. I promise that I will be now.” Tears filled his eyes. “You are my daughter, and I’m stunned, yes, but frankly, right now, I feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.”

  Gracie smiled at him through her tears. “Do you have a family?”

  “I do now,” he said. “I do now.”

  EPILOGUE

  Gracie couldn’t believe she had been in the hospital four days before waking up. Now she had spent four more days confined to her hospital bed, and she was going stir crazy. She ached to get up, take a shower, and go home, but the reasonable side of her knew this was where she needed to be. For the moment.

  At first, she didn’t remember why she was there, or how she had gotten there, until Hope, Mom, and her doctor came into the room to explain the situation. She was on day eight of her stay in the hospital and was beginning to come to terms with what she had learned. Three days ago, her entire life had changed, and it wasn’t because of the accident. She could manage a broken ankle and a minor head injury, but the other news had shaken her to the core.

  Recalling the conversation still gave her quite a shock, though she had come to believe that it was the best kind of shock to have.

  Unsure of what she would do, how she could return to her old life as though nothing had happened. This afternoon, she would speak with a psychiatrist, who would help her figure out a way to cope with the shock of what she had just learned. It wasn’t going to be easy; she knew that. But Gracie knew that she was tough, as tough as the doctor—her father—thought she was.

  She also knew she was loved, more loved than she had ever known. With love, she would get through this. Maybe she would be an even better human after the newness of the many changes ahead soaked in, changes she would somehow come to terms with.

  Suffering a mild traumatic brain injury hadn’t been in her plans when she had taken Callie’s painting to Clara’s. Day by day, her memory of that night was becoming clearer. In the midst of the nightmare that she had, after worrying about surprising her mother on her special day with that painting, her sneaking around that night had changed all of their lives. A total one-eighty.

  She touched the spot on her head where they had shaved part of her hair in order to stitch her wound. She had fifteen stitches, a broken ankle, and of course, the head injury, which she knew she was lucky to have survived. She had lost a lot of blood. Had Jackie not found her when he did, she might have died right there.

  Thinking of that upset her, because it was her own fault. Gracie knew she didn’t have to sneak and hide that painting. It was her own selfishness. She delighted in surprising others, in a good way. But this, well, it hadn’t been a good surprise at all. Even though her mother loved the painting, trying to hide it hadn’t been worth all the trouble she had caused, and it certainly wasn’t worth sustaining all the injuries she had suffered.

  Though her life was certainly going to be different, it wasn’t a horrible kind of different. It would work if she allowed herself to come to terms with it, be as honest with herself as possible. If she hid her anger, she knew it could fester, become poisonous.

  Her door opened, and a woman about Hope’s age entered. “Hi, Gracie. I’m Dr. Keller. Do you feel up to a chat?”

  “Sure,” she said. “You’re the psychiatrist?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Then start asking me any question you think will help me handle this life-changing event.”

  Dr. Keller replied, “I promise to do my best. Now, tell me how you felt the moment you learned what had happened, how it all came about.”

  Gracie spent the next hour telling Dr. Keller all of her innermost thoughts about the accident and the outcome, and that she really wasn’t totally miserable with the changes. She agreed to a family therapy session. First with her mom—grandmother—and then Hope, and after that, she wanted them all together, including her father. This could work. The more she thought about it, the more she found she was truly okay with the changes coming in her life. It would be rocky at first, but weren’t new beginnings always a little rocky at first?

  Having made this decision, she took the cell phone that Hope had brought to the hospital on her last visit. She dialed Hope’s cell number. She answered on the second ring. “Hey, girl, did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “You can never catch me at a bad time,” Hope said.

  “Oh crap, act like yourself. If you start treating me like I’m a delicate little flower, I’ll have to kick your butt when they let me out of this place.”

  “All right, smarty pants, I was about to meet one of your doctors for coffee in the cafeteria to discuss your case, but since I’m already here and he isn’t, I suppose I can give you a few minutes of my time.”

  “I want to run an idea by you; then you promise you’ll do whatever you can to make it happen?”

  “Whoa, now that’s a heck of way to ask a favor, but go ahead, shoot.”

  “As you know, they’re releasing me tomorrow. I’m going to be a real pain at home, especially with the stairs at Mom’s. So, how would you feel about my homecoming taking place at your house? No stairs, no main street for all the tourists to drive by the Walden house to get a glimpse of the nut job who tried to hide a gift and wound up in the hospital.”

  “Not what I was expecting to hear, but I would love to have you stay at my house. Mom”—Hope paused—“well, she might not be too keen with the idea, since at this very moment she’s having one of those stairlifts installed at the house. Just for you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. You know Mom. Once she gets an idea, she won’t let it go. So she thought doing this would make the rest of your stay easier, what with you hobbling around with crutches. Of course, she made perfect sense when she explained that she would need to use the lift herself one day when she was too old and crippled to walk upstairs. So, if you want to disappoint her, I don’t have a problem with it. I would love for you to stay with me, Gracie. Truly.”

  “Then I’ll just spend a night at your place, a night at Mom’s, and maybe Dad’s. It’s all going to work out, Hope. I’m not angry, you know that, right?”

  “So you say,” Hope said, “but you should be.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says your mother, your mom,” Hope said. “Me.”

  “I’m an adult, remember. I know how I feel, Hope. I’m going to tell you a secret. Your birthday is next week, and Mother has planned a surprise party for you. In the garden. She’s having it catered by the Ale House. And do you remember the older man who seated us the night we had dinner there? His name is Michael, and he was the principal at the elementary school where Mother taught. He’s also the guy Mother has been seeing.”

  “Holy moly, girl. You can’t keep a secret, can you.”

  “Yes, I can,” Gracie said, “but you’re a better keeper of secrets than I am. I wanted you to know that Ronan, Dad, is invited.” She let her words soak in before she went on. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Gracie’s door opened just then. “Hope, listen, I need you to come to my room. Whatever that doctor has to say can wait. Please, it’s kind of urgent.”

  “On my way,” Hope said.

  “She’s on her way up,” Gracie told her mother and Ronan, who had just walked into the room. “Act surprised when you see her, okay?”

  Ronan O’Connor, Dr. Ronan O’Connor, all six-foot-six of him, smiled at her. He had the same gray-green eyes. The same reddish-brown hair. The same fair skin. The same as hers because Ronan O’Connor was her father. It still sounded crazy to her, but in a good way. The event that had led to this discovery, one that had almost cost her her life, was turning out to be the best news a woman could hope for. She still had trouble thinking of Hope as her mother and Mom as her grandmother. This was the secret they had spoken of that day when she had overheard them talking outside. They had always planned to tell her, but according to them, the timing had never been right.

  Never in a zillion years had they expected this. When Dr. O’Connor saw Hope, he immediately remembered their relationship, the intimacy they had shared, and Hope had felt that given Gracie’s medical condition, it was fate that had brought him back to Amarillo, back to a daughter he had never known he had, and back to the girl who had stolen his heart all those years ago. She had told Gracie this.

  Hope pushed through the door, stopping when she saw her mother and Ronan in the room.

  “I told you, Ronan, the woman is a sneak. She knew I was waiting for you in the cafeteria.” Hope shook her head.

  “She is a smart young lady. Smart parents,” he said to Hope. “I’m proud of her, of you all, taking care of my girl.” His Irish accent thickened with emotion. “I want us all together, as a family. Hope, we have a few things to work on, if you’re willing?”

  “Of course, whatever it takes,” she said.

  “Even if it means starting over? Dating, getting to know each other all over again?”

  Hope grinned, her smile lighting up her beautiful brown eyes. “I’m game,” she said.

  Ella, who still referred to herself as Gracie’s mother, and said she would always, sparkled like the brightest star in the sky. Her girl took this news better than they had expected, and now, they had Ronan in their lives.

  He was forty-nine, never married—except to his work, he had said—and now, to discover he had a family, again he believed it was divine intervention that had sent him back to Amarillo.

  Her father looked at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “You want to know what I think?” he asked his daughter.

  She nodded.

  “I think you’re amazing, Gracie.”

  Ella’s Sweet Iced Tea

  3 family-size Luzianne tea bags (or brand of your choice)

  6 cups water

  3 cups ice

  1 cup sugar

  lemon slice (optional)

  mint (optional)

  Bring the 6 cups of water to a boil. Place the tea bags in water; simmer for 10 minutes. Add sugar. Allow time to cool. Pour tea and sugar mixture into a pitcher of choice. Add 3 cups of ice. For weaker tea, add water to desired strength.

  Enjoy!

  Ella

  Meant to Be

  LORI FOSTER

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Mother’s Day party took place the week before the actual holiday, so that everyone living in the small town of Visitation, North Carolina, could take part without its disrupting their own, more private celebrations the next weekend. The townsfolk of the remote area loved having a reason to be on the large recreation lake owned by the Winston family.

  It was one particular Winston, however, who occupied Cory Creed’s thoughts. Without being too obvious, she glanced toward where he manned the refreshment shack. Because Austin Winston worked in construction, he had the very fit body of a manual laborer. When he moved, delicious muscles moved, too. Though he had a full-time job, whenever necessary, he also enjoyed lending his parents a hand at the lake.

  It seemed to her that Austin was part fish, he was so often in the water. Between his job working outdoors, and his penchant for swimming, Austin’s very fair hair was practically white, made more noticeable by his deep tan.

  Today, he wore a loose T-shirt with board shorts, his hair typically mussed, dark sunglasses shielding his eyes.

  He smiled at two kids, and Cory ached.

  Unfortunately, his beautiful smiles were rarely for her.

  Carrying her sandals in one hand, she made herself look away and finished crossing the sandy beach to where her mother was helping Austin’s mom clear a few picnic tables. It wasn’t right that the two very best mothers in the whole world were working during the party, but Cory knew them well enough to know there’d be no talking them into relaxing.

  Just as she reached them, Luna, Austin’s mom, said, “I think that’s it for now,” and after a quick friendly greeting to Cory, she hustled off toward the large house where she and Joe Winston lived, likely to grab a few more supplies.

  Cory’s mom smiled at her. “What a pretty dress.” Teasing, she asked, “Did you wear it for anyone special?”

  The yellow floral sundress did look nice with her dark hair and eyes, but she’d worn it to boost her morale, not to get attention. One, no matter what she wore, Austin wouldn’t make a move. And two, she didn’t care about any other guys noticing her.

  “Actually . . .” Cory dropped to sit at the picnic table bench. “Do you have time to talk for a minute?”

  Concern replacing her smile, her mother quickly sat. “Of course, honey. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong, exactly.”

  “Baloney. I might not have your or Jamie’s ability, but I have mother’s intuition, and I can promise you it’s stronger.” Her mom put a hand to Cory’s cheek. “I know you, and I know when something is bothering you.”

  Smile twitching into place, Cory repeated, “Mother’s intuition?”

  With lofty insistence, her mom stated, “All mothers have it.” She considered that, then amended, “All good mothers, that is. Especially when they adore their children as much as I adore you.”

  Far too often, Cory felt like an outsider. Like her father, she had the uncanny ability to know things before they happened. Once upon a time, that gift had made her father’s life a living hell—until her mom, Faith, had found him, loved him, accepted him, and in the process helped Jamie to accept everyone else.

  For Cory, it had never been as bad, because she had Faith in her corner. From the time she’d been a baby, her mother had encouraged her ability, embraced it, and she’d helped Cory to understand and refine it. Mother’s intuition. Yes, maybe it was a thing, because Faith had always known exactly what she needed and when.

  Which was why Cory wanted to talk to her now. Rather than look morose—because by God, she wouldn’t be—she forced a smile. “I made a decision today.”

  “Okay.” In her typical, supportive way, Faith settled in beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. “What kind of decision?”

  Saying it out loud made it so final that the words stuck in her throat.

  As she sensed Cory’s uncertainty, Faith’s gaze sharpened. “It has to do with Austin, doesn’t it?”

  See, that. That was why she needed her mom right now. Going for a teasing note, Cory said, “Wow, your mother’s intuition is dead-on.”

  “Of course.” Lightly, Faith tugged on one of Cory’s long corkscrew curls.

  “Well, I’ve decided it’s past time that I move on. I’m cutting Austin loose—not that I ever had him in the first place.” Apparently, that had all been a figment of her imagination, or maybe wishful thinking. “I want to start over. New job, maybe new location for a while.” She’d go where no one knew her, where she could be like everyone else. “Maybe a new guy, too, though I’m not in a hurry for that part of it.”