Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,86

photographs. Until there was a child—" She shrugged sadly. "What difference did it make? Who would care?"

Amanda shifted uncomfortably on the chair. The emotion in the room seemed to take up all the oxygen. She struggled to draw a deep breath. "I always knew there was something—odd—about his refusal to speak of a family."

"It's not odd." Mrs. MacDonald's shoulders slumped. "It's tragic."

Amanda clutched the photo. "They're all dead."

The housekeeper nodded, her face suddenly sagging, as if she'd given up the effort to remain stoic. She sank down onto the leather chair at the right of the door.

"Mrs. MacDonald," Amanda whispered. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to know. Nothing can be done. I have enough to worry about."

"Someone needs to know," Mrs. MacDonald said in a suddenly fierce voice. "Someone needs to help that man with his pain and loneliness."

Someone who loved him would care. Amanda closed her eyes as the words echoed in her head, momentarily pushing aside her pain and her worry about her baby. Love didn't hide behind denial. It didn't wait for a convenient time. It didn't run away when the going got tough.

Love survived, no matter what happened. A glimpse of her father flashed in her mind. He was bending over the bassinet in the kitchen where Julie lay. Even then, she'd been sickly.

Her father straightened up and looked at her mother. His eyes were sad, but his voice strong when he said, "We will find a cure for her. Don't worry."

Then he seemed to notice Amanda standing there by the back door, waiting to say goodbye to him as she did every day. He slung a comforting arm around her. "You, pumpkin, are the best big sister anyone could have. Right?"

She'd nodded, although she wasn't sure he was right. What was she able to do for Julie?

Her father lifted his heavy briefcase, kissed all three of them in turn, the baby, Amanda, and then her mom. He walked out the door.

He died that day.

After that, Amanda never had any hope that they'd find a cure for Julie. Her father had promised—and then he hadn't fulfilled his promise. They hadn't been able to depend on him.

But she'd been wrong about that. In the intervening years, medical science had made a lot of progress in treating lung disease. Amanda and her mother had never stopped looking for better treatment.

Her father would have continued to look also. She could finally admit it. Maybe she'd also been wrong to be so unforgiving of him for leaving them.

Today, looking at the photo of Logan's family, Amanda began to see things in a different light. Parents did the best they could. But tragedies still happened. She was able to see that clearly with respect to Logan's family, but she'd never given her father the same latitude.

Now, for the first time, Amanda admitted that her father would have also done his best for his kids. Fate had intervened, but what happened wasn't his fault.

Thinking about her own child, Amanda could glimpse how her father might have felt on that long ago day. He'd been doing what he could to provide for his family. Just as she would do for the baby she now had to protect.

She might not succeed. Her father hadn't succeeded. Logan's parents hadn't prevented their son from experiencing a tragic loss.

But it was time for her to forgive her father.

He'd left them, but his love survived in the love the three of them still shared for each other. And yes, in the love they had for his memory.

Now she needed to provide a family for her child. Even if Logan's side of the family could only be remembered in photos and in stories, those memories would be better than nothing.

She opened her eyes and looked directly at the housekeeper. "You're right," she said. "Please tell me what happened."

Mrs. M.'s lips trembled. "The family was visiting my house, where I lived with my husband, Bob. We used to live on the Winter's estate in the suburbs of Boston. I was the housekeeper, of course, and Bob handled all the outdoor responsibilities."

Amanda nodded, clutching her stomach, as if she could at least prevent the baby from hearing the awful tale which was about to unfold.

"Bob had retired, so I did as well. His health wasn't good, and we moved to a home in a nearby town." She clutched her apron, smoothing it between her fingers, as if looking for comfort in the cloth.

Amanda began to rock back and forth