Her gaze drifted to Amanda, an exact replica of Annie, although her twin usually wore her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail. She doubted there was anything Jade and Jasmine could pull that she and Amanda hadn’t tried years ago. They had never fooled her parents, but they had confused a couple of their teachers when they exchanged places in each other’s classes. Now they went out of their way to be different.
Annie herded the kids into a line so they could fill their plates with hamburgers, coleslaw and fruit salad while Amanda and Samantha, who was married to her eldest brother, Ken, helped the two youngest children with their food.
As Annie’s nieces and nephews sat at their table, she arranged older ones to be near younger ones. “Let’s pray. Carey, do you want to say the prayer?”
“Yes,” her ten-year-old niece said, then bowed her head. “Bless this food and, Lord, please don’t let it rain tomorrow on my soccer game.”
When the children dug into their meal, Annie went to make a plate for herself. As she dished up an extra helping of coleslaw, she glanced at the lettuce for the burger. The green reminded her of the color of Dr. McGregor’s eyes, except his had a sparkle in their depths, especially toward the end of their conversation about his kids. She’d felt his relief that he’d told her everything about them and she hadn’t declined the job. He didn’t understand—instead of frightening her off, he’d intrigued her. Annie had decided years ago to help children in need, and Jeremy needed her whether he knew it or not. The Hansens’ middle daughter had, too, at one time, but now she was fourteen and growing up to be a mature young lady.
“You haven’t told me much about your new position,” Amanda said when she joined Annie at the end of the food line. “What’s your boss like?”
“He seems a little overwhelmed at the moment.”
“Four children will do that.”
“More than that. He lost his wife and then his aunt, who was assisting him with the kids. All in two years’ time.”
Amanda gave her a long, assessing look. “Sounds as though you want to do more than help the children.”
“Any kind of loss can be hard to get over. I don’t think Dr. McGregor’s even had time to think about either his wife or aunt. He’s had his hands full.”
“You got all of that from an hour interview?”
Annie started for the adult table. “Well, not exactly. I asked Tom and his wife about him. I have a nurse friend at the hospital where he does surgery. She told me some things, too.”
One perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “It sounds as though you also checked his references.”
“I could be working for him for quite a while—his youngest is four years old. I discovered that his colleagues respect him as a surgeon, but what I particularly like about him is that he spends some of his time at a free clinic for children, fixing things like cleft palates. Tom told me Dr. McGregor has had to reduce his regular work time because of his trouble with the nannies, but he didn’t decrease his hours at the free clinic.”
Seated at the table, Amanda leaned close to Annie. “So he’s a plastic surgeon. Maybe you should talk to him about your situation.”
Annie gripped her fork and whispered, “No. I was told there’s nothing else that can be done.”
“That was fourteen years ago. Methods are bound to be better now.”
“I don’t have the money. The last operation nearly cost Dad his house. I can’t do that again. I’ll live with the scars. I have for over fourteen years. Besides, the fire wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left the candle burning when I went to sleep.”
Tears filled Annie’s eyes. She’d forgotten about the candle that day at the cabin because she’d been too busy moping and missing her boyfriend.
The memory of that day when she had been fifteen and the family had been staying at their grandparents’ cabin on Grand Lake inundated her with feelings of regret. The fire that had destroyed the vacation home had also nearly killed her when a burning beam had pinned her down. Part of her body was burned. The pain swallowed her into a huge dark hole that had taken a year to crawl out of. But the worst part was her mother had never made it out of the cabin. Her dad had managed to get to Annie, but when he’d tried to go back in, the building had been engulfed in flames.
“You have four brothers and two sisters who can help you with the money. We all have jobs. Even Charlie works, and he’s still in college.”
“He has to pay for his classes. And each of you has a family to support and your own expenses. Amanda, let this go before I get up and leave.”
Amanda harrumphed. “You’re stubborn.”
“So are you. Remember, I know you better than anyone, probably even Ben.”
Amanda narrowed her brown eyes. “And the same goes for me. Annie, it was an accident. The family doesn’t blame you for Mom’s death. You need to forgive yourself and let the past go or you’ll never have the life the Lord wants for you. When are you going to figure that out?” Her twin raised her voice above a whisper.
“Annie, what do you need to figure out?” her father asked from the other side of the table.
“Nothing, Dad. Amanda and I are just arguing.”
“What’s new?” Ken, her older brother who sat across from Annie, picked up his hamburger to take a bite. “Ouch! Which one of you kicked me?”
The twins pointed at each other.
* * *
Emotions clashed inside Annie when she turned into the McGregors’ driveway and drove to the large white stone house set back from the road on the outskirts of Cimarron City, Oklahoma. She was excited for a new opportunity to help children in need, but it had been several years since she’d been challenged with a grieving child. The Hansen kids’ drama had been normal teenager or preteen stuff for quite some time. What if she’d lost her touch?
Annie glanced in her rearview mirror and saw her brothers’ vehicles at the entrance of the driveway. Parking in front of a three-car garage, she inhaled a deep breath, then climbed from her red Honda, hefted a large box with her pots and pans from the backseat and headed toward the stairs on the side. Dr. McGregor had told her yesterday he would leave the apartment unlocked.
She carefully started her climb up the steps, her view partially blocked by the carton. A giggle from above drifted to her. She lowered the box and gasped.
Grinning at her, Joshua stood on top of the upstairs railing wearing a red cape that flapped in the breeze.
“I have special powers. I can fly.” The four-year-old spread his arms wide as though he was going to demonstrate.
“Don’t!” Annie shouted as Joshua wobbled.
I shouldn’t have shouted. Annie sucked in a breath.
Joshua regained his balance.
Heart thumping, Annie dropped the box on the stairs, jumped over the cardboard box and scrambled up the steps. “Joshua, it’s great to see you again,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster. “I sure could use a big, strong superhero like you to help me bring my stuff upstairs. How about it?”
By the time she reached the landing, the four-year-old had turned his body so he could see her better, but the motion caused