Stand-In Rancher Daddy. Renee Ryan

close. If Ned stayed away, CJ would have to marry.

      Soon, perhaps within the next few months, some other woman would become the children’s mother. That, Molly thought, would be a blessed day for the girls and one of the worst of her own life.

      “...If you find yourself in a difficult season, I urge you to remember the Israelites. Perhaps God is protecting you from a threat you can’t see.”

      Molly leaned forward at the preacher’s words. Anna chose that moment to climb onto her lap. The child sighed heavily, swallowed a few times, then rested her head against Molly’s shoulder.

      “If you take away nothing else from my sermon today, think on this. You aren’t alone in your troubles. God is with you, guiding your steps. You simply have to follow His lead.”

      Follow His lead.

      So easy to say. So very hard to do.

      Molly glanced at CJ’s profile. How bleak he looked. How alone. He turned his head and something sad moved in his eyes. Yet something volatile was there, as well. He was clearly struggling with grief over his brother’s actions. He must also be angry with Ned.

      How well Molly knew the feeling.

      “Is service almost over?” Sarah asked, loudly enough to be heard three rows over.

      Chuckling softly, CJ pulled the child onto his lap. “Almost.”

      The low, deep timbre of his voice, and the way he wrapped his arms gently around the child, made Molly’s heart behave strangely, pounding in her wrists, in her ears, in her throat.

      Something shifted inside her, a strange, severe sensation that took over her entire body. An awakening, of sorts, as if she were coming out of a long, unpleasant dream.

      Anna wiggled against Molly, her little chest rising and falling. The sound that came out of her tiny lips was part muffled sob, part whimper. From her position on CJ’s lap, Sarah reached over and patted her sister’s back. The gesture was so sweet, so grown-up and mature, Molly’s breath clogged in her throat.

      Ned, why did you abandon your children?

      “As we prepare for our Founder’s Day celebration,” the preacher continued, “let us remember where we came from, but let us not dwell on the past. We must forge into the future with confidence, knowing that God is always with us. I urge you to draw close to Him, and He will draw close to you. Let us pray.”

      Molly bowed her head and pulled Anna closer. A sense of purpose filled her. No more dwelling on the past. She would concentrate solely on the future. She would do so one day at a time, as she’d advised CJ to do.

      The preacher dismissed the congregation with a reminder about the ice-cream social. Molly and CJ set the twins on the ground as they each gained their feet.

      Anna and Sarah remained unmoving, eyes wide, panic forming in their green depths. They seemed to realize that the end of service signified the end of hope for their father’s return.

      Five excruciating seconds of humming silence passed.

      Molly reached out and closed her hand over Anna’s. CJ took Sarah’s. Still, no one spoke. None of them moved. They simply stood by their wooden bench, connected and silent, suspended in a wretched moment of sorrow.

      People filed past them. Some smiled, a few nodded, but most didn’t even look in their direction. Molly shifted slightly, turned her head. Her gaze immediately caught a pair of soulful, dark brown eyes. CJ was staring at her, unsmiling and grim-faced and seemingly caught in a moment of indecision.

      That changed once the tent cleared out. Still holding Sarah’s hand, he took charge and led their sad little group into the empty aisle. The four of them trooped wordlessly toward the cottonwood tree.

      As they stood in the shade of the leafy branches, holding hands, waiting, waiting, waiting... Molly felt a bittersweet bond with each member of the Thorn family.

      They can never be mine.

      She could mother the girls, but she couldn’t be with CJ. He deserved more than she could give him. Molly risked a glance in his direction, muffling a sigh. He had the most remarkable face, strong and handsome. The subtle weathering from long hours outdoors in the elements made him seem more approachable. Molly wanted...

      She wanted...

      What did it matter what she wanted?

      No point in going to a place that could never be, even in the privacy of her own mind. God had provided her a temporary position with a family in need. She would focus on the time she had in their home. One day at a time.

      People moved toward the open field south of the revival tent and joined small clusters made up of friends or family or both. Gathering around large tubs of ice cream, they laughed, shared whispered confidences and slapped each other’s backs.

      How could they just go about their business? Did they not realize that the lives of two little girls and their stalwart uncle were changed forever?

      Molly glanced to the heavens. She wanted to pray, but no words formed in her mind. She lowered her head. Beams of light caught floating, cottony-white particles swirling from the branches of the tree overhead.

      The twins remained unnaturally silent, and so very solemn. Again CJ and Molly shared a glance. But then he was no longer looking at her. His face settled into a scowl.

      Following the direction of his gaze, Molly nearly groaned out loud. Mrs. Hickey, with her pinched face, tight bun and small, narrow eyes, marched straight toward them. Each step was measured and full of purpose.

      Though she feared the worst, Molly forced a smile. She must be strong for the Thorn family. Family. The word stuck in her mind, nagging at her, reminding her they weren’t really hers.

      Well, she would stand with them, anyway, because today...today they were hers.

      * * *

      CJ shifted to stand directly in front of Molly and the twins. The protective move wasn’t discreet and hardly subtle. He didn’t much care. Constance Hickey was the town’s most fearsome gossip, best known for spreading rumors based on half-truths and third hand accounts.

      He knew this unpleasant fact about the woman from personal experience. Lillian had barely rejected his marriage proposal when half their community was in possession of the particulars behind her refusal. The talk had been unkind and had added an ugly blemish to the Thorn name.

      CJ could weather another round of rumors and backbiting. What he couldn’t—wouldn’t—tolerate was talk about the twins or Molly.

      He widened his stance, balanced on the balls of his feet and braced himself for the battle to come.

      Mrs. Hickey drew to a stop.

      “Ah, Mr. Thorn, good day to you and yours.” The empty pleasantry did nothing to soften her voice. The sound and pitch were as shrill as the whistling of a stiff wind through the crack in a window.

      “Good day, Mrs. Hickey.” In an attempt to end the conversation before it began, he said nothing else.

      A mistake. The woman filled the conversational void by making a grand show of craning her neck to the left, then the right. “I haven’t seen your brother this morning.” The diamond point of her chin settled back to center. “I do hope he isn’t ill.”

      “He isn’t ill.” Not in the strictest sense of the word.

      “Well, if that’s true, I must say I’m surprised he isn’t here.” She sniffed indelicately. “I’ve never known him to miss Sunday service.”

      The critical comment drew a tortured sob from one of the twins. The miserable sound ripped through the air like broken glass shattering in a million pieces.

      CJ moved fast, but not fast enough. By the time he’d spun around and dropped to his knees, Anna had sucked in a big gulp of air and screwed up her face. “Anna, please. Please don’t—”