Mission: Motherhood. Marta Perry

clicked it open, and a small face appeared on the screen. This, clearly, was Ali Tabiz.

      Big brown eyes, short dark brown hair, an engaging smile. According to the brief statistics attached, the little boy was five, the same age as the twins, but he looked—what?

      She grappled for the right word. He was small, maybe suffering from the shortages that went along with having a war in your backyard, and there was a bruise over one eye. But he didn’t look younger than the twins. In a way, he looked older, as those dark brown eyes seemed to hold a world of sorrows.

      “Cute kid.” The voice, coming from behind her without warning, startled her so much that her hands jerked from the keys, and she swung around. It was Steve Windham again, this time in uniform. Somehow it made him seem even taller, his shoulders even broader. Or maybe that was because she was sitting down.

      She shoved her chair back, standing. “Steve, hello.” She noted the bars he wore. “Or should I say Captain Windham?”

      He shook his head, giving her that easy smile. “I’m Chaplain Steve to everyone. Since we’re old friends, I’m just Steve to you.”

      She wouldn’t, she decided, exactly call them old friends. “First the elementary school, now Children of the Day. Are you following me?”

      His grin widened. “Afraid not. Not that that’s not a good idea.”

      Maybe it was safest to ignore the comment. “What are you doing here?”

      “I coordinate all the military volunteers who work with Children of the Day, so I’m in and out of the foundation office all the time.”

      “Painting at the elementary school, volunteering here, counseling the grieving—surely a chaplain’s not expected to do all that.”

      “All that and more.” He shrugged. “An army chaplain has a surprising amount of autonomy. His or her duties are what he or she makes of them, outside of regular services. I follow where the Lord leads me to minister, and He led me here.”

      Which meant she’d be tripping over him, apparently. He’d been right to remind her. Prairie Springs was a small town.

      He nodded toward the computer screen. “Is this little guy your first project?”

      “Yes.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not a state secret, you know. Tell me about him.”

      “Look, Steve, I’m not trying to kick you out, but I have work to do. I just don’t see why you need to know about my project.” It was her project, after all.

      “If that child has to be brought to the States from a war zone, then I need to know.” Now his smile had developed an edge. “I also coordinate any military involvement in Children of the Day projects—which probably will mean getting that child out.”

      “Sorry.” That didn’t sound very gracious, did it? “I am sorry. I didn’t realize that you were involved to such an extent.”

      He shrugged. “Now you know. So, are you ready to tell me about him now?”

      “Of course.” She managed a smile. “I don’t know much yet. His name is Ali Tabiz, and he’s five years old. He was referred to Children of the Day by a Dr. Mike Montgomery.”

      He nodded, his eyes intent as he studied the face on the screen. “I know Mike. If he wants our help, he has good reason.”

      “I suppose so, but he hasn’t gotten back to us with much information on the boy’s condition yet. It’s apparently a heart problem that may need surgery. Oh, and we do know he’s an orphan.”

      “Poor little guy.” Steve reached out and touched the screen. “What do you say we send him a message?”

      “A message? Well, I suppose we could ask Dr. Mike to tell him something.”

      “We can do better than that.” He nodded to her desk chair. “If you’ll let me use your computer for a minute, that is.”

      In an effort to seem more congenial, she slid out of the chair and watched as he started an e-mail. But the letters that appeared on the screen were Arabic.

      Her mouth was probably hanging open in surprise. “How did you do that?”

      He grinned. “All the computers here are equipped to switch to an Arabic alphabet. It’s necessary, given where the greatest need is at the moment.”

      “But how do you know Arabic?” Steve seemed to be full of surprises.

      He shrugged. “I have a knack for languages, I guess. And I was in the Middle East in an earlier offensive.”

      “I didn’t know.”

      An awkward silence followed, making her wonder what war had been like for a chaplain.

      He frowned at the screen. “Since he’s only five, he’s probably not reading much yet, so let’s keep it simple and say we love him and want to see him.”

      “That sounds good.” It did, and she was touched that Steve had thought of something that hadn’t even occurred to her.

      “There we go.” Steve addressed it to the doctor’s e-mail address and hit Send. “Mike will see that he gets it and that somebody reads it to him.”

      “I wish the doctor would get back to us. There’s not much more I can do until I hear from him.”

      “You can trust Mike to do what’s right. We’ve worked with him before. He’s one of the good guys.”

      She was beginning to think that Steve was one of the good guys, too. But that didn’t mean she wanted him taking over her job.

      “I have a few more things to do before I go home, so if you don’t mind—”

      He nodded, getting up from the computer. “I know. It’s your job, not mine.”

      “Well, yes, I guess that’s what I mean. I’d like to show my new boss I can do it.”

      He stood watching her for a moment, and she almost thought there was a shadow of disappointment in his blue eyes.

      “Not alone,” he said. “Nobody around here is a solo act. It takes all of us to make this work.”

      “I’m sure cooperation is important, but—”

      “But you’re staff, while I’m just a volunteer?”

      “I didn’t mean that.” She wasn’t sure where this tension between them had come from.

      He shrugged and started for the door, but before he reached it, he turned back toward her. “Keep me posted on Ali, will you?”

      “All right.”

      He didn’t seem convinced that she meant it. “Don’t forget that I’m your military contact, Caitlyn. You’d better get used to working with me.”

      Chapter Three

      Steve went in the side door of Children of the Day, hearing a hum of conversation from the lobby. Something must be going on, as it always was, but with a little luck he might be able to corner Anna for a private chat.

      He had some information for her that might be helpful, but that wasn’t his primary reason for turning up. The truth was that he was curious to see how Caitlyn was working out.

      She’d been with COTD for all of two days, but if he knew Anna, that was plenty of time for her to come to a conclusion about Caitlyn.

      He’d been bothered since their conversation about Ali. Maybe Caitlyn was dynamite at her position in New York, but Children of the Day ran on cooperation, lots of cooperation from all sorts of people. And Caitlyn had given off unmistakable vibes that she preferred to do everything all by herself.

      Or maybe he was just the one