A Texas Ranger's Family. Mae Nunn

green light to exert her arm beyond the blob of putty she was supposed to squeeze constantly.

      The cell phone trilled on the bed beside her.

      “What’s up, boss?” J.D. was the likely caller.

      “Wow! Not only a cheerful but a quick answer.” He poked fun at her reputation for being on the go with no time to talk.

      “And why does that surprise you?”

      “Because the number of times I haven’t had to leave a voice mail and wait seventy-two hours for you to return my call can be counted on three fingers.”

      “I have a few more hours on my hands these days since I’m not exactly tied up.” She glanced at the IV tube that had her tethered to an aluminum pole. “Strike that. I’m definitely tied up, just not with assignments. But I was thinking about that just a few minutes ago and—”

      “Erin,” J.D. interrupted, his voice losing its humorous note. “Give it a rest, will ya? There will be plenty of war, pestilence and famine when you’ve recovered enough to come back. Meanwhile, try to appreciate having this downtime. Read good books, watch chick flicks. Just appreciate the fact that you’re alive.”

      “I know, I know. And I’m grateful that I’m just in a bed and not a pine box. But my work is my reason to get up in the morning, J.D.”

      “Well, maybe it’s time you found a new purpose. Kid, I love the bureau, but Mary Ellen and our boys are what I live for. You’re a young woman with plenty of reasons to get out from behind the camera and focus on real life, no pun intended. You need to get to know that beautiful daughter while she still has time for you. Trust me, in a few more years, you’ll have to make an appointment to see her.”

      “Thanks for the advice, Grandpa Walton. Can I ask a favor?”

      “Anything.”

      “Will you ship me some equipment?”

      “I’ll put that on my To Do list. But the reason I called is to let you know I’m heading for the West Coast tomorrow morning. I scheduled a stopover in Houston just long enough to drop a few things off.”

      Erin felt a shiver in the sunny room. J.D. was going to fly several hours, rent a car and navigate the crazy Houston interstates for a brief visit. There had to be more to it then he was willing to say on the phone. This must be something he has to do in person.

      “I hate to see you go to so much trouble,” she tried to dissuade him.

      “The itinerary is all set, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I have the address and I’ll be there by three o’clock.”

      Yep, the man’s on a mission. She prayed it was from God and not Corporate.

      

      Daniel relaxed in his home office on the back side of the second floor, directly above the sun porch. He’d installed an upstairs ringer for the doorbell so he wouldn’t miss package deliveries. When the front bell chimed, he glanced up from his discipleship study to the time flashing in the corner of his computer monitor. It was Sunday afternoon and he wasn’t expecting anyone.

      Must be for Dana.

      The bell rang a second time.

      “I’ve got it,” he called. Three steps from the bottom of the staircase he saw the visitor through the arched window in the door. Candace Dickerson. The curvy blonde was beyond neighborly, she was downright available.

      But in a nice Southern girl way.

      Candace was unmarried, educated, produced cooking shows for the local cable station and attended Abundant Harvest. She was everything a red-blooded man in his late thirties would be looking for in a woman and mother for his child. But Daniel wasn’t looking. He was content to raise Dana by himself, never dating or accepting invitations to singles’ social events. His unattached status suited his daughter just fine and he preferred to keep it that way.

      But nothing stopped Candace from trying.

      “Hey, Daniel!” She gave his waist a squeeze with one arm and kissed the air near his face as only a proper Texas gal can. “Your sweet mama said you’d be bringin’ company home and I thought I’d drop off a fresh batch of my homemade pecan pralines.”

      “Did I hear ‘pralines’?” Dana called as she hurried down the stairs. The two women hugged and his daughter helped herself to the tin of gooey confections.

      “Interesting you heard the mention of candy but you didn’t hear the doorbell.” Daniel was actually grateful for Dana’s arrival. His daughter’s presence would keep everything family-friendly.

      “Come on out to the porch and meet Erin.” Dana led the way.

      “Why sure,” Candace agreed, looking to Daniel who offered no explanation. She fell into step behind Dana.

      Trepidation gripped Daniel anew each time he remembered Erin was in his home, in their lives. She’d gotten comfortable in the rattan chaise near the windows. Her hair was backlit by the setting summer sun casting a rosy halo around her tanned face. She wore some of the loose-fitting gray scrubs Walter Reed tailored to accommodate the physical limitations of their soldiers. They were functional but ugly.

      LaVerne relaxed on the matching love seat and something the two just shared had them smiling. Since his mama was prone to telling stories from his days as a boy on the ranch, Daniel had good reason to suspect their amusement was at his expense.

      His neighbor passed through the French doors to the sun porch as Dana made the introductions. “Grandma Verne, you already know Candace, right?”

      “Yes, hello again,” LaVerne greeted the newcomer.

      “Nice to see you, Mrs. Stabler.” Candace addressed his mama but her eyes immediately settled on the stranger in the room.

      Dana offered her grandmother the open tin, then perched on the edge of the chaise. “And Candace, this is my mother, Erin Gray. You’ve probably heard of her, because she’s a famous photographer.”

      Erin lowered her chin and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Then she turned a smile of embarrassment toward Candace. “It’s nice to meet you, and please excuse Dana’s exaggeration. She will be less inclined to brag on me once she figures out most people have no idea who I am.”

      “They may not know you by name, but you’re fooling yourself if you think people don’t recognize your work,” Daniel insisted.

      He reached toward a stack of National Geographic magazines, took one from the top and flipped it to a dog-eared page.

      “I read where they receive over a million submissions every year. This one made the editor’s top pick and then went on to be selected for a global refugee campaign.” He was proud of Erin’s accomplishments but couldn’t help wondering if her accolades could ever make up for their losses. The personal cost of her success had been high for all of them, especially Dana. Daniel’s years of praying for the grace to forgive Erin had never been fully fruitful. Constant reminders of their splintered family made it impossible not to know moments of anger, days of regret.

      He pushed aside his selfish thoughts and handed the magazine to Candace. Her gaze softened as it brushed the face of an orphan in Darfur. The toddler stood amid the horrifying evidence of genocide.

      “Of course I’ve seen this. How could anyone forget those eyes and that tiny child clinging to her family?” Candace placed the pages in Dana’s waiting hand, and then it was her turn to duck her head. “That sure shines a light on the triviality of my cookin’ shows.”

      “Please don’t take it that way,” Erin insisted. “Your reaction is exactly why I don’t like a personal fuss over what I do. People start making comparisons and end up feeling bad instead of being moved to act, which is the point of my work. That picture is just one example of the tragedies I’ve witnessed in this world. Most folks can never understand loss and abandonment unless they’re confronted with it