Hannah's Beau. Renee Ryan

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      At the genuine warmth in Laney’s words and the open acceptance in her embrace, Hannah’s stomach curled inside itself. Feeling more than a little desperate, she clung to the other woman with a fierceness she hadn’t known she possessed. Fear, frustration and terrifying hope braided together in a ball of awkward longing. Hannah hadn’t realized how alone she’d felt these last three days as she’d searched for Rachel and Tyler with no leads, no help and no advice.

      As though sensing her mood, Laney patted her on the back and whispered in a voice only Hannah could hear, “You’re safe with us.”

      Unable to respond, Hannah simply gripped the other woman tighter.

      “Tell me, Beau,” Marc asked from behind her. “What brings you to our home, on a Wednesday no less?”

      Feeling awkward, foolish even, Hannah stepped quickly out of Laney’s embrace. She was too emotional to speak, not that the question had been directed at her. But still…

      She gave the reverend a pleading look.

      His questioning gaze was so serious, so concerned, she lost the tiny thread of her control and tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. It took everything in her not to reach up and wipe at her lashes.

      He touched her arm. “Are you all right?”

      She nodded her head, a little too quickly, a little too intensely.

      His eyes softened. He squeezed her hand a moment, and then turned back to Marc. “I have a delivery from one of Mattie’s girls. Miss Southerland was kind enough to accompany me.”

      “I’m glad,” Marc said with a kind look directed at her.

      “And while we’re here,” the reverend continued, “we thought you might have an idea where your brother-in-law is today.”

      Marc and Laney shared a look. “You’re searching for Trey?” they asked in unison.

      Beau nodded, but didn’t divulge any of the particulars.

      “Well, you’re in luck. He’s actually here today,” Laney said. “Last I saw, he was out back playing baseball with some of the older children.”

      Marc looked like he was going to add to the explanation, but he was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal of delight. “Pastor Beau! Pastor Beau!”

      All four adults turned toward the gleeful sound. A little girl about seven years old skipped down the steps. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with delight. Her broad smile showed off a missing front tooth, while two long black braids bounced from side to side with each step she took.

      The adorable little girl was filthy from braids to bare feet and, quite frankly, the happiest child Hannah had ever seen.

      Skidding to a halt mere inches short of running into the pastor, she asked, “Are you here to play with us today?”

      Unfazed by the near collision, Pastor Beau stooped to her level and plucked at one of the messy braids. “Hello to you, too, Miss Molly Taylor Scott. What sort of game are you playing?”

      Rocking back and forth on her heels, Molly performed a perfect little-girl swish with her shoulders. “Baseball, of course. My daddy’s pitching right now.”

      Grinning, the reverend rose and placed his palm on her head in a gesture that spoke of genuine affection.

      Man and child continued smiling at each other as though they shared some humorous secret.

      Charmed by them both, Hannah just stood watching the two interact.

      “Her daddy is the man you’re looking for,” Laney whispered.

      Surprised at the news, she turned to Laney. “Molly isn’t one of the orphans?”

      “Not anymore.”

      Their voices must have carried, because Molly noticed Hannah then. With the typical attention span of a child, she deserted the pastor and bounced over to Hannah. “You’re very pretty.”

      Completely captivated by the precocious child, Hannah lowered to her knees. “You are, too.”

      Lifting her nose higher in the air, the little girl slapped her own shoulder. “My name’s Molly.”

      “I’m Hannah.”

      “Oh.” Big blue eyes widened. “Like Samuel’s mama.”

      More surprises, Hannah thought. “You’ve heard of her?”

      “Well, of course.” Molly let out a sound of impatience. “Pastor Beau told us about her last Sunday. She’s the one that prayed for a baby.”

      “That’s right. I was named after her.”

      Molly jammed two tiny fists on her hips and narrowed her eyes in pitch-perfect seven-year-old concentration. “You don’t look like anybody’s mama to me. You’re too fancy.”

      “I’m not anybody’s mother. Yet.” Hannah smiled at the child, even as something a little sad quivered through her. “But one day I hope to be a lot of somebodies’ mother.”

      Molly giggled. “Me, too. Someday.”

      Hannah joined in the child’s laughter, feeling the tension ease out of her with the gesture.

      Just then, a clap of thunder sounded in the distance.

      Molly looked to the heavens, scrunched her face into a frown and marched back to Pastor Beau. “Well?” Her fists returned to her hips and her foot started tapping on the ground. “Are you playing or not?”

      “Molly, honey,” Marc said in a practical voice. “I think you’re going to get rained on very shortly.”

      The little girl’s face fell. “But—”

      “Not to worry.” Hannah rose to her feet and tapped Molly on the shoulder to get her attention. “I know several games we can play inside.”

      Molly’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

      Hannah nodded, then looked at the approaching clouds. The breeze had grown still, and the sharp, pungent odor of rain pulsated in the air. “I’ll teach one of them to you later.”

      “That sounds nice.”

      But clearly, Molly Taylor Scott was made of very stern stuff. She wasn’t relenting without a fight. “Come on, Pastor Beau.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Before it rains.”

      Beau lifted an eyebrow at Hannah as though seeking her permission. He looked so sweet standing there with the child’s hand gripped gently in his.

      He’ll make a great father.

      Now where did that thought come from?

      “Go on,” she said, more than a little touched by the picture the two made. “We can talk to her father after the game.”

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