Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,85

that she could accomplish whatever she needed to do.

She grabbed a couple more and then had to walk the books across the room to the little table. Retrieving anything from the floor was impossible in her condition. On the way back, a glint of silver sparkled from the back of the shelf where she'd emptied the books.

She bent down to check it out. A silver picture frame? How had it fallen behind the books?

Well, she'd rescue it. The lighthouse could use some photos, even of people she didn't know.

She removed a few more books and another picture frame was revealed. What in the world? Had someone deliberately placed the frames back there?

Moving as quickly as she could, she cleared the shelf. For some reason, she was worried that Mrs. MacDonald would appear and demand that she stop re-arranging the library. Why, she couldn't say. But now that it was clear the frames had been deliberately hidden, her actions seemed sneaky, as if she were revealing something that was intended to be concealed.

She cleared the shelf, lugging the books back and forth to the table, and then carefully removed the first frame from the back of the shelf.

A young man, maybe a teen, stared up at her. He was standing on the beach, with the wind blowing his dark hair, and a grin creasing his face. One arm held up a bright red windsurfing board.

Logan Winter.

Her heart stopped.

He looked so happy.

What had changed him from this joyful teen into a solemn and unsmiling grown man?

Amanda stared at the picture. Could this be someone other than Logan? A brother? A cousin? Even though, as far as she knew, he didn't have any family.

With trembling fingers, she pulled out the next frame.

For a long moment, her eyes refused to focus as her mind grappled with a decision. Did she really want to see what would be revealed? Did she have any right to pry into the secrets someone had carefully hidden?

The baby kicked her, the jolt a reminder that the secrets might be a history of this child's family. Something he or she would want to know some day.

Amanda focused on the picture in her hand.

A family laughed at the camera.

A tall man in middle-age, with dark hair frosted with silver. He had one arm around his wife, a beautiful woman with lovely eyes and a strong smile.

On one side of the man stood the same teenaged boy, and yes, it was Logan. That was the exact same grin she'd seen on his face when—her memories faltered. She forced them into her mind. That was how he'd looked at her when he'd been laughing at her Christmas tree sweater—one of the few lighthearted moments she'd seen from him.

Next to the woman stood a younger girl with long, dark hair, probably a younger teen.

Logan's family.

Amanda's heart clenched around the realization. What had happened to them? Why did he never mention them?

"I'm not surprised you found them." Mrs. MacDonald spoke from the doorway, startling Amanda so that she almost dropped the frame.

"I—Who—" She waved toward the bookshelf.

"I put them there," Mrs. MacDonald said calmly. "He had ordered me to dispose of every photograph."

"Logan." Amanda didn't need to phrase it as a question.

"He's the only one left."

Amanda gasped, even as a twist of pain stabbed her abdomen. She reached out to grab the shelf to steady herself.

"What happened?"

"Are you all right?" Mrs. MacDonald frowned anxiously. "You look very pale."

"The shock," she whispered. "My baby." She flattened her hand against her stomach. "I need to sit down." She trundled over to the rocker, and lowered herself carefully.

She stared at Mrs. MacDonald. "I feel heartbroken," she whispered, "and I don't even know what happened."

"Oh, dear." Mrs. M. clasped her hands together. "I didn't think about you getting into the children's section. I should have."

"Please don't blame yourself." Amanda tried to control her breathing. In. Out. A vise seemed to be squeezing the middle of her body. She needed a distraction. "Tell me why you hid them."

"I couldn't eliminate all trace of—" Mrs. M. hesitated, and tears sprang into her eyes, magnified by her thick glasses.

"Logan's family," Amanda breathed.

"Yes." Mrs. MacDonald took off her glasses and blotted her eyes with the bottom of her apron. "I knew this moment would arrive someday."

"That's why you saved the photos."

"Of course," Mrs. M. answered. "The time to tell about the family would be when a child came along. That's when someone would look at the children's books in here. They'd find the