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Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(189)

By:Jean Brashear


He saw when she remembered. All of it. Her grip slackened.

He stepped back, let her hand go. Closed his mind to foolish dreams.

Lacey struggled to catch up. “Where are my—where are Charles and Margaret? Do they know?”

He nodded. “Your doctor asked them to stay away until you could decide whether or not to see them.” He turned away. “I’d better go tell the nurse you’re awake.”

Lacey watched Dev’s face close up, heard the politeness in his tone. So remote. Almost a stranger now.

She wanted to grasp his hand again and hold on tight. He seemed the only thing familiar in her world.

Then she remembered what he’d said before she’d collapsed. Remember the bitter disappointment on his face. Don’t lie to me…don’t lie to yourself. I begged you to come with me. You chose them.

She hadn’t had the courage to reach out for what she wanted then. Now she didn’t know what she wanted.

Except some answers.

“Why, Dev?” she asked quietly. Why did you do it? Why did you lie?

He halted at the doorway, turning back slowly. “Why what?” But she could see in his eyes that he knew what she was asking.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now.” Resignation darkened his tone. “All that can matter now is that you get well.” He pulled open the door and left.



There was nothing he could do for her that would ever make up for the havoc he’d wreaked in her life, but Lacey’s nightmare ramblings had shown him one way to make amends.

Christina. The little girl Lacey wanted to adopt. Dev might not be able to put Lacey’s old life back to rights, but he could give her the ammunition to make a new one, if she still wanted it.

It was hard to leave her behind, but the doctor had already made it clear that the tests they would run on her would take most of the day and he was not welcome.

It would be Dev’s self-imposed penance to be at hand as much as possible until she was released. Right there to watch how she suffered and be able to do little or nothing to change it.

But Dev needed to do something constructive. He stopped by Connor’s apartment to shower and change, then got on the phone and started working.

Three hours later, he alighted from his car in front of a modest home. Christina’s social worker, Louise Wardlow, was waiting on the porch.

“Mr. Marlowe, I don’t have to tell you that you’re an angel in my book. What you’ve accomplished in one morning would have taken us weeks—if we could ever get the time at all.” Her wise brown eyes gauged him carefully, despite her words. “You mind telling me why you’re doing this?”

Dev shrugged. “Let’s just say that I owe Lacey and leave it at that.”

The brown eyes didn’t leave his. “Why do I think there’s a lot more to the story? You got the look of a man with some worries.”

“If I do, they’re no one’s fault but my own.” He nodded toward the door. “Thank you for letting me meet Christina.”

“I like the look of you, Devlin Marlowe. I think you’re a man who can see past the surface. Christina’s heart is a good one. Her face doesn’t change that.”

“Lacey cares about her. That’s all I need to know.”

She put one hand on his arm as he headed toward the door. “Is Lacey going to be all right?” All she knew was that Lacey was in the hospital.

“I hope so,” he said grimly. “She’s got to ease up on herself.”

“Ain’t that the truth? That girl’s too sensitive for work like this, but she’s sure good with the children. Just eats her up inside.”

“Mrs. Wardlow—”

“Louise, hon. We’re already way past that.”

Dev grinned for the first time in hours. “Louise, if Christina wants to go, do you think she could visit Lacey? Lacey’s worried about her.”

The woman patted his shoulder. “We can do that. Lord knows where I’ll fit it into my schedule, but I will make time for that. Christina needs to see her, too.”

Dev nodded. “Thank you.” He pulled open the screen door and held it for her.

Once inside, Dev glanced around the worn but spotless house. Toys were scattered everywhere and the furniture was shabby, but the place smelled clean and every surface was covered with pictures of children.

Foster parents were surely one of the world’s kindest blessings. To take a child not one’s own and care for that child fully, knowing you might have to give the child up in a matter of days or months, required a special kind of human being.

“Hello.” The woman who greeted them was small and rounded, her hair caught carelessly back in a plain rubber band. Dev saw kindness in her eyes. “I’m Helen Carpenter.”