Hero Dad. Marta Perry

      

      Seth scooped his son up and held him against his chest. “Davy, say hello to Ms. White.”

      Davy stuck his finger in his mouth, then apparently decided she was okay and lunged toward her. Julie’s arms went out automatically to grasp him, and he threw his arms around her neck in a hug.

      “Sorry about that. Davy’s a born hugger.”

      “That’s all right.” She looked a little stunned. “Hello, Davy. It’s nice to meet you.”

      The words were conventional. Her expression wasn’t, and it rocked him back on his heels.

      He took a breath, trying to adjust his impressions of her once again. His brother wouldn’t call her an ice maiden now. Julie had plenty of feelings.

      The rest of that conversation flickered through his mind. No, he certainly wouldn’t be expressing any interest in Julie White. He wanted someone safe, and what he read in Julie’s sea-green eyes wasn’t safe at all.

      MARTA PERRY

      has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

      Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.

      Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at [email protected], or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

      Hero Dad

      Marta Perry

      For God has not given us a spirit of fear,

       but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

      —2 Timothy 1:7

      This story is dedicated to Herb and Barb Johnson,

       with much love.

       And, as always, to Brian.

      Dear Reader,

      I’m so glad you decided to pick up this book, and I hope my story touches your heart. The Flanagan firefighter series is very dear to me, and I hope you enjoy reading about the firefighter heroes as much as I enjoy writing about them.

      Julie and Seth both have burdens to carry, and I loved the fact that they could learn to share them with each other for the sake of a special little boy.

      I owe special thanks to my daughter Lorie, for her photographic expertise, and to my grandson, Bjoern, for reminding me of what it’s like to be three years old.

      I hope you’ll write and let me know how you liked this story. Address your letter to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, and I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookplate or bookmark. You can visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com or e-mail me at [email protected].

      Blessings,

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter One

      She was not afraid. Julie Alexander paused in front of the trim brick firehouse, clutching her camera bag as if it were a lifeline. She wasn’t afraid to go inside and risk confronting the man who had the power to break her heart.

      No. The denial was instant and automatic. She didn’t have to risk anything. As long as Seth Flanagan didn’t know who she was, she had nothing to fear.

      For God has not given us a spirit of fear— The promise ought to be familiar to her. She’d had to rely on it often enough.

      The red brick of the building in front of her looked mellow in the late September sunshine, like so many of the century-old brick buildings she’d seen in this small Pennsylvania city. The bay doors stood open, revealing the red and chrome hoods of fire engines. As she moved, an orangey red leaf from one of the maples that lined the street fluttered past her shoulder. It clung for a moment to the camera bag and then dropped at her feet. Her mind automatically began to compose a picture.

      But there would be no hiding behind the camera lens today, no matter how much she might wish it. She stepped over the leaf and into the cavernous interior of the firehouse.

      Three men leaned against a fire truck, their strong bodies forming a frame around the gold letters on its side: Suffolk Fire Department. She picked out Seth Flanagan instantly from the photograph her private investigator had provided.

      His face, relaxed and smiling, was turned toward one of the other men, who was obviously telling a story. They hadn’t seen her yet, which gave her a moment to study him. He was tall, solidly built, with broad shoulders and deep auburn hair that might once have been red. That easy grin of his had probably been the first thing that had attracted her sister.

      Though she hadn’t moved, something alerted the men to her presence. Seth straightened, frowning a little as his gaze met hers. He started toward her.

      Her heart jolted at that frown. If he knew who she was—

      No, he couldn’t know. Lisa had been very clear, in that last letter of hers, that her two lives would never touch in any way. Her husband and his family would replace the birth family that had made her so unhappy.

      She arranged a smile and stepped toward him. “Hello. I’m looking for Seth Flanagan.”

      Julie Alexander might know what her brother-in-law looked like, but photojournalist J. White certainly shouldn’t.

      “I’m Seth.” He held out his hand, but the frown lingered in eyes that were so bright a golden brown that they looked like topaz. “You’d be the photographer. The chief told us you were coming.”

      The way he said the words revealed the reason for the frown. It wasn’t her personally he objected to. It was being expected to work with her.

      “I’m very grateful to Chief Donovan for his cooperation.” She chose her words carefully. She’d better make it clear that his cooperation wasn’t optional. “He’s told me that your family will be perfect for my photo article on firefighters.”

      “You wanted a family of firefighters, and that’s us.” One of the other men approached.

      Hair so dark it was almost black, eyes a deep Irish blue, as tall as Seth but not as broad—the coloring might be different, but the resemblance was still strong enough that she’d have pegged them for brothers even if she hadn’t known.

      “And you are?” She held out her hand.

      “Ryan Flanagan.” The smile he turned on her probably charmed every woman he met. “I’m the one the chief should have assigned to work with you.”

      She