Hannah's Beau. Renee Ryan

about seven years old skipped down the steps. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with delight. Her broad smile showed off a missing front tooth, while two long black braids bounced from side to side with each step she took.

      The adorable little girl was filthy from braids to bare feet and, quite frankly, the happiest child Hannah had ever seen.

      Skidding to a halt mere inches short of running into the pastor, she asked, “Are you here to play with us today?”

      Unfazed by the near collision, Pastor Beau stooped to her level and plucked at one of the messy braids. “Hello to you, too, Miss Molly Taylor Scott. What sort of game are you playing?”

      Rocking back and forth on her heels, Molly performed a perfect little-girl swish with her shoulders. “Baseball, of course. My daddy’s pitching right now.”

      Grinning, the reverend rose and placed his palm on her head in a gesture that spoke of genuine affection.

      Man and child continued smiling at each other as though they shared some humorous secret.

      Charmed by them both, Hannah just stood watching the two interact.

      “Her daddy is the man you’re looking for,” Laney whispered.

      Surprised at the news, she turned to Laney. “Molly isn’t one of the orphans?”

      “Not anymore.”

      Their voices must have carried, because Molly noticed Hannah then. With the typical attention span of a child, she deserted the pastor and bounced over to Hannah. “You’re very pretty.”

      Completely captivated by the precocious child, Hannah lowered to her knees. “You are, too.”

      Lifting her nose higher in the air, the little girl slapped her own shoulder. “My name’s Molly.”

      “I’m Hannah.”

      “Oh.” Big blue eyes widened. “Like Samuel’s mama.”

      More surprises, Hannah thought. “You’ve heard of her?”

      “Well, of course.” Molly let out a sound of impatience. “Pastor Beau told us about her last Sunday. She’s the one that prayed for a baby.”

      “That’s right. I was named after her.”

      Molly jammed two tiny fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes in pitch-perfect seven-year-old concentration. “You don’t look like anybody’s mama to me. You’re too fancy.”

      “I’m not anybody’s mother. Yet.” Hannah smiled at the child, even as something a little sad quivered through her. “But one day I hope to be a lot of somebodies’ mother.”

      Molly giggled. “Me, too. Someday.”

      Hannah joined in the child’s laughter, feeling the tension ease out of her with the gesture.

      Just then, a clap of thunder sounded in the distance.

      Molly looked to the heavens, scrunched her face into a frown and marched back to Pastor Beau. “Well?” Her fists returned to her hips and her foot started tapping on the ground. “Are you playing or not?”

      “Molly, honey,” Marc said in a practical voice. “I think you’re going to get rained on very shortly.”

      The little girl’s face fell. “But—”

      “Not to worry.” Hannah rose to her feet and tapped Molly on the shoulder to get her attention. “I know several games we can play inside.”

      Molly’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

      Hannah nodded, then looked at the approaching clouds. The breeze had grown still, and the sharp, pungent odor of rain pulsated in the air. “I’ll teach one of them to you later.”

      “That sounds nice.”

      But clearly, Molly Taylor Scott was made of very stern stuff. She wasn’t relenting without a fight. “Come on, Pastor Beau.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Before it rains.”

      Beau lifted an eyebrow at Hannah as though seeking her permission. He looked so sweet standing there with the child’s hand gripped gently in his.

      He’ll make a great father.

      Now where did that thought come from?

      “Go on,” she said, more than a little touched by the picture the two made. “We can talk to her father after the game.”

      “I’ll make sure of it.”

      “I know.” Her heart punched two solid thumps against her ribs. “Thank you for that.”

      Opening his mouth to speak, the pastor shifted his weight toward Hannah, but Molly tugged on him again. “Let’s go.”

      “I think I’ll join you,” Marc said. Pausing a moment, he angled his head toward Hannah. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Southerland.”

      “You, too, Mr. Dupree.”

      As Marc followed behind the other two, Laney let out a loud sigh. “Five years of marriage, and I never get tired of looking at that man.”

      “Sounds like love to me.”

      “That it is.”

      The other woman’s face glowed as she spoke, and Hannah felt her earlier sense of yearning grow more powerful. Home. Safety. Permanence. Until now, Hannah hadn’t realized how much she craved all three. The years of traveling from stage to stage were obviously taking their toll. Hopefully one day she would find her own place in the world.