His Secret Daughter. Lisa Carter

to be her top priority. But she would do what she could in helping Jake and Maisie find their way to each other.

      She took a ragged breath. And then come November, he’d leave as they’d agreed. The idea of his departure left her with an unsettled feeling.

      * * *

      Later, upstairs in his bathroom, Jake splashed water on his face and examined the man he beheld in the mirror.

      He hadn’t anticipated the intense sense of loss he felt when he’d seen the photo of his newborn daughter in Tiffany’s arms. It was pink-cheeked Maisie that had made him emotional, not Tiffany, wasn’t it?

      Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure. He’d believed himself over his ex-wife a long time ago. Only an idiot loved somebody who didn’t love them back. Right?

      He fingered the stubble on his jaw. Had he made a mistake in coming into Maisie’s life? There were a lot of things worse than nothing. Such as having a father like his. Or Tiffany’s.

      In a way, it was that very dysfunction that had drawn them to each other. The problem was that neither of them had ever had a real home. No surprise they’d failed to make one with each other.

      He sagged, bracing his hands on the sink. A lifetime of insecurity and self-doubt washed over him. What was he doing here, trying to be Maisie’s father?

      Jake had no business being anyone’s father. The familiar childhood tape played over and over in his head. His dad’s voice yelling it was Jake’s fault his mother abandoned them.

      Did it really even matter why Tiffany left? Had his dad been right about him being worthless? Perhaps Tiffany’s desertion had answered that question once and for all.

      He ought to leave Apple Valley Farm before he messed up Maisie as bad as his parents had messed up him. And yet...

      Jake pictured the recent photo of Maisie’s happy face over her second birthday cake. Nash must’ve taken that picture. Lips pursed, Callie stood behind Maisie’s chair, helping the little girl blow out her candles.

      Per his agreement with Callie, he wouldn’t be here to celebrate Maisie’s third birthday or anything else. Perhaps if over the apple harvest Maisie learned to trust him again, he would be invited to return some day in the future. But he ached inside at how much he’d miss of his daughter’s life.

      The sound of laughter floated from outside. Straightening, he moved toward the bedroom window.

      Almost ready to wink out behind the ridge, the sun cast a golden hue on two figures in the meadow. Against the glowing backdrop of sunset, Callie’s hair seemed ablaze with a fiery light. She and the smaller form of Maisie waved.

      His heart constricted. For a fraction of a second, he imagined they waved at him. His pulse ratcheted. An indescribable joy flooded over him.

      The joy of mattering to someone. Of belonging to a family like the Jacksons, living and working in a beautiful place like the apple orchard. Having a woman like Callie love him.

      He spotted Nash at the corner of the barn.

      They were waving at Nash. The three of them—not him—belonged to each other. Tiffany’s actions had made it crystal clear that, as he’d always suspected, there was something inside Jake that just wasn’t lovable.

      Arms outstretched, Maisie surged toward her beloved Pop-Pop. Callie followed a pace behind, her hand trailing through the petals of late-summer wildflowers. And despite not belonging—never belonging—Jake’s heart caught in his throat. The sheer loveliness of her stirred something inside him.

      Surrounded by the mountains, God felt very near to Jake, and casting aside the fear, hope bloomed for the first time in a long while in his heart. An answer to a prayer he’d been too afraid to voice.

      Callie was his daughter’s heart—he saw it clearly now—as truly as Maisie’s heart belonged to Callie. With Callie’s help, he might yet earn the love of his daughter.

      And something else, too. He sensed that somehow he might’ve stumbled on to more than he had ever dreamed possible.

      Home.