“She was a train wreck! She didn’t have friends, at least not for long. She lied about her family, about you. There was never a single picture of you in the house, not one. And why didn’t she get fired from her job? Explain that?”

“I don’t think she was well liked by everyone, but you have to understand that especially in a situation like hers, an educational institution, just being difficult and slightly dysfunctional on the job wasn’t going to get her fired. She knew how to do her job, and she had a great deal of seniority. I know she had problems from time to time, but for some reason there never seemed to be consequences. I can give you the names of a few coworkers—they might talk with you. In that envelope you’ll find a list of the books I read, trying to understand who she was. I can’t say I came to any conclusion—just a lot of guessing.”

“When did you get a divorce?” she asked.

“I moved out when you were four years old and we divorced quickly.”

“Why do I think I was six? That’s what I remember.”

“I stopped coming for you when you were six—those two years must have been the worst of your life—your mother and I fighting every time I came, hiding you from me, refusing to let you come with me. I never went to the house without a fierce battle. So I stopped.”

“I thought this might give me answers,” she said. And when she said that, Noah reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I’m so sorry,” Jed said. “You were used as a pawn and eventually I abandoned you, hoping that would set you free. I can’t imagine the trauma. Counseling might be in order. I’ve had a lot of it.”

“How could you trust a counselor? She was a counselor!”

“Listen, Nora—there are good and bad in every profession—doctors, lawyers, teachers—”

“Clergy,” Noah put in. “Jed’s right. And a lot of troubled people study counseling to try to figure out their own issues. I might’ve been guilty of that myself.”

Her eyes filled when she looked at Noah. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life.”

“Maybe you and your father should continue all the questions and answers over the phone or computer. Take it one swallow at a time. You can use my computer at the church—we’ll set up an email account for you.” Noah glanced at Jed.

“Absolutely,” Jed said. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’m just so relieved to find you alive. One thing—is there anything you need? Is your health all right?”

She gave a nod. “And you?”

“Blood pressure medicine, statins for cholesterol—everything under control.”

“And you’re teaching?”

“At Stanford—history. I’ve been there twenty years now. I’d like to hear more about what you’re doing. When you’re ready. Everything you need to find me is in the envelope.”

“Thank you,” she said, hugging it to her. And without touching him, she turned away from him, heading back toward Noah’s truck. Then she stopped, turned back and said, “How did she die?”

“Complications of pneumonia. She went to the emergency room, was hospitalized and slipped away very quickly. I’m sorry, Nora.”

She nodded and went to the truck.

Noah stood and spoke with Jed for a few minutes while Nora just escaped. They were under way for several miles before she spoke. “All that driving for a thirty-minute meeting. I hope you’re not angry about that.”

“We agreed, the meeting was to be on your terms. No one else would control it—only you. I think you accomplished a lot. What do you think?”

“I think it was surreal. And I am completely drained.”

Chapter Five

Noah Kincaid had become a passable detective over time and necessity—Nora wasn’t the first person he’d helped thusly. He knew how to verify an address and employment and with the help of Brie Valenzuela, court documents. He reported to Nora that Jed Crane checked out and provided information on her aunt Victoria with a phone number to call when she was ready. There were three cousins—the entire family back east. All the items in the envelope were legitimate. There was one surprise included—a check. It was more money than Nora had had at one time in her life—five thousand dollars.

“What is the money for?” she asked Jed in an email sent from Noah’s church office.

“I made alimony and support payments and after your mother died, checks weren’t cashed. I thought maybe you could use it,” he wrote back

“But I’m sure you’re not rich,” she fired back.

“Can you put it to good use?” he returned.

Could she! The first thing would be car seats, just in case anyone offered to take her with the girls anywhere. And they were in sore need of clothes, all of them. She’d have to get the girls outfitted for winter—secondhand was perfectly adequate, but still cost money and should be done soon. The church always threw a little something her way, but she would still have to buy things like underwear and shoes. Disposable diapers for the baby cost the earth and formula wasn’t cheap. And then there was preschool and day care.

And there was one other thing that gnawed at her. She went to Noah and said, “I have a confession to make. It’s about the house… .”

“What house?” he asked.

“The one I’m living in.” Her cheeks grew hot and rosy. “I have no idea who owns it. It was a broken-down hovel when Chad brought us here. Fay was a newborn. It didn’t look like it had been lived in for years and the door was unlocked. I asked a man who was walking by with his dog who lived there and he said different renters on and off. The gas and electric were running, so we just went in. Noah—I’m squatting.”

“Squatting?” he asked.

“No one knows this, but no one has collected rent. The gas and power—I don’t use much, but I’m behind on the bills. Bills come in the mail to someone none of my neighbors has ever heard of and I get a money order from the Corner Store and pay a little something and miraculously, it keeps running. No one questions me. And now I have some money so I should make it right. And I’m scared. What if…”

Noah laughed. “Nora, that house was abandoned years ago—that’s why it wasn’t kept up. There are at least a few of them in town. Utilities are on?”

She nodded and chewed her lower lip. “Oh, my God—what if I’m evicted?”

“It’s shelter,” he said. “I’ll try to figure out who owns it, but sometimes it’s better not to ask a question if you can’t stand the answer. It’s probably owned by the state or bank. One tiny house with one bedroom—it can’t cost much in utilities.”

“But someone could notice I’m behind one of these days and shut everything off,” she said. “And what if it happens in winter?”

“Call me if that happens, meanwhile use a little of this money to catch up on the utility bills as much as you can,” he said with a smile. “We’re there for you, Nora. We don’t have much, but we always have lights and heat. You can bring the apples.”

* * *

Tom had a lot of friends from high school still living in the area, many of them working on family ranches, vineyards or farms; most of them married and some already parents. He had missed his ten-year high school reunion; he’d been in Afghanistan. His Marine Corps friends were either still serving or separated and returned to homes all over the U.S. And, there were a few deceased—he kept in touch with some widows and parents of fallen marines.

As for a social life, he occasionally drove all the way to the coast for a beer where there might be datable girls. He hadn’t met any particularly tempting women, however. And there was always Jack’s, but Maxie was so intent on cooking up a good evening meal for him that he had to head her off before she even planned one in her head. “Friday night I think I’ll go out,” he’d say. “Maybe hook up with some of my old friends.” Maxie was always delighted to hear that. She wanted Tom to have some fun. But what she didn’t know was that he seldom hooked up with anyone.

One thing he did do was give his only female employee a ride each morning and afternoon. She had stopped protesting and he found himself looking forward to those few minutes coming and going, fascinated by the updates on her family situation. She had met her father and began either talking to him for a few minutes a day or emailing from Noah’s church office.

“There’s a lot to process,” she told him. “It’s shocking how much I have to learn about myself—how my experiences growing up influenced some of the choices I’ve made.”

“As in bad choices?”

“Sure, some. But Reverend Kincaid has been wonderful in helping me navigate this minefield and tries to prompt me to find some of the good choices I’ve made. Like the choice to be a loving mother. Now, I don’t know about you and your views of fatherhood, but I always thought I’d be stuck with the kind of mother I turned out to be and to tell the truth, I was afraid I’d stink at it. It never occurred to me I had a choice.”

“I think some people are naturals, though,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure. Your grandmother, for example. If I could be like her one day…” And then she smiled at him with a smile that so lit up her pretty face he thought it was a miracle he didn’t drive off the road.

He realized they were becoming friends, the most unlikely friends imaginable. If she were a little older and less encumbered, they might even be more than friends. That was out of the question, of course. Tom was not in the market for an instant family. He was especially unwilling to take on the kids of some unknown guy or guys.

It was too bad she had that baggage because there were things about her that really blew his whistle—like her undeniable beauty. She had rich mahogany hair—long, silky, thick. She usually kept it in a ponytail but had a habit of letting it loose, shaking it out, combing it with her fingers back into the tie that held it. And her eyes were smoky, a kind of odd brown shade that grew almost gray in the bright light. And those slim, dark brown brows—she could lift just one and it became provocative. Sexy and even suggestive. He loved that she took her breaks in the orchard rather than the break room in the barn—she said fall was her favorite season and it would be gone too soon. And it touched a place deep inside him when she said working in the orchard was like a fantasy she hadn’t even dared dream of—a luxury.

Almost everything about her appealed to him. Except her past, of course. And the ready-made family—he didn’t even know where they’d come from.

He would enjoy their chats, get a kick out of her sometimes teasing, sometimes challenging personality. Here she was, struggling and down on her luck, yet she didn’t take any of his guff. He liked that in a girl. All that being said, he’d keep looking. He’d find the right woman one day. And he wouldn’t be completely surprised if she turned out to be a little like Nora.

Until he did, he not only picked her up and drove her home, after a week of that he began to go all the way into town to get her. And he tried not to keep an eye out for her during the workday, but still managed to find things to do near wherever she was picking.

Maxie took a run over to the coast for some shopping and since she was gone, Tom went to the kitchen to make himself a huge sandwich full of meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomato and pickles. He cut it in half, wrapped it in a couple of paper towels and set off for the orchard. He went to where he’d last seen her picking, but she wasn’t there. Her ladder stood abandoned. He walked deeper into the orchard and finally he thought he heard her humming and he moved toward the sound.