lay open on the hospice coverlet. Stunned, LeeAnn Larrimore let it fall as she turned to gaze out the window at the city of Austin.
Somewhere out there were her children. Her loved ones. Garrett and Lana and Michael and Shelby.
Would they ever come to see her? Did they want to make contact?
She couldn’t presume. She’d never interfere in their lives, she told herself bleakly. She’d forfeited that right all those years ago. But on the page she’d been reading was a small black and white photograph that made her heart turn over.
The picture was of a man and a woman. The woman was holding a child, newly born. She was looking serene, her face radiating happiness. And the man… The pride and the love in the man’s eyes were there for all to see.
Gary!
Did they know? What weird stroke of fate had made them choose Gary as their son’s name?
“Gary,” LeeAnn whispered, and the echo of a long-lost love filtered into the room, bringing with it the first vestige of comfort she’d had for a very long time. “My Gary.”
It mustn’t be coincidence. They must know-and in spite of everything, they’d forgiven her.
“Please.”
She lay back on her pillows and felt the first faint stirrings of strength. Maybe she could live a little longer. Maybe she could wait.
Because her children were coming.
Please…
Marion Lennox
Marion Lennox was born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on-mostly because the cows weren’t interested in her stories! Marion has written almost fifty novels for Harlequin, some published under the name Trisha David.
In her nonwriting life, Marion cares (haphazardly) for her husband, teenagers, dogs, cats, chickens and anyone else who lines up at her dinner table. She fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost). She also travels, which she finds seriously addictive.
As a teenager Marion was told she’d never get anywhere reading romance. Now romance is the basis of her stories and her stories allow her to travel-so if ever there was an advertisement for following your dream, she’d be it!
