“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said.
“Me too.” She smiled.
“I sort of saved you,” he said. “I found your purse and stuff.”
“Sort of?” Sierra struggled to sit up, accepting Ridge’s help so she could sit up and dangle her legs over the side of the cot. “Sort of? Heck, you saved me for sure. Nobody ever would have opened up that truck if you hadn’t said something.” Her expression softened and she smoothed the boy’s hair. “You said something. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m not scared to talk anymore,” Jeffrey said, sitting beside her. “And I’m not scared of Mitch.”
“We’ll talk about Mitch sometime, okay? But right now, let’s just wait.” She cupped his cheek with one hand and pulled him close—a mushy mom-type gesture some little boys shied away from, but Jeffrey closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, a beatific smile on his face.
Only someone like Bill, or Irene or Sierra, could heal it. And there was no more valuable thing you could do for the world than to lift a child out of a loveless life.
Jeffrey opened his eyes and reached out. Eyes tearing, Ridge sat down and put an arm around the boy. The three of them sat motionless for a moment in a family tableau—one that Ridge knew would be a reality as soon as he and Sierra and the state of Wyoming could make it so.
Acknowledgments
Okay, guys, this is going to be a long one. As many readers know, breast cancer brought a screeching halt to my normal life just as I began this book. I lost my hair, but I didn’t lose my mind (or my life!), thanks to the following people:
My friend Mary Throne, who inspired me to go get that mammogram. She was always there for me despite her own struggle and her day job as Super Woman. She’s an inspiration as well as a friend.
Another huge thank you goes to my agent, Elaine English, for her help navigating the challenges of working—and living!—through cancer.
As for my publisher, Sourcebooks—I am so glad we found each other. Everyone in this organization has been nothing but supportive, despite the inevitable delays my illness caused. Thank you to editor Deb Werksman and everyone else for believing in me.
To anyone going through the breast cancer ordeal—it’s long, it’s hard, and it’s different for every one of us. Chemotherapy in particular is full of surprises, many of them unpleasant and all of them inconvenient. But you will survive, and you will be stronger for it.
Last but definitely not least, I am grateful every day for the support of my husband, Ken McCauley. Being a caregiver is at least as hard as being a patient, but his support and understanding never wavered. Always and forever, he is the love of my life and the inspiration behind all my heroes. Mwah!
About the Author
Joanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, www.joannekennedybooks.com.