with calluses. The muscles of his upper arms, shoulders, back and legs moved under the fabric; that perfect male butt in jeans that weren’t too loose or too tight drew her eyes. Sometimes he seemed to get a little worn out—the tendons in his neck stood out and after putting a crate in the truck, he’d stop to wipe his brow. Then he’d laugh with one of the guys.
She wondered what it must be like to be the kind of girl he’d smile and laugh with. What kind of girl would that be? A pretty and smart young teacher? A model or movie star who would be more than willing to leave the limelight for life on an orchard?
Now and then she’d be staring at him and imagine him in military fatigues rather than his work shirt, carrying a gun rather than a crate of apples and she’d wonder—had his losses been many? Had he been afraid, so far from home in a place of great danger? Did he miss the edge, the adrenaline rush of combat?
Or was coming home to the serene beauty of the orchard a relief? A comfort?
* * *
The following weekend Nora was able to take advantage of some overtime, and what made it even more desirable, it wasn’t a ten-hour day, but just a long morning that ended in early afternoon. Adie assured her she was definitely up to the task of watching the little girls. When Nora walked back into town after work on Sunday, she found Reverend Kincaid waiting for her at Adie’s house, chatting with her outside.
“Well, hello there,” she said to Noah.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Excellent. Put in a good day’s work and still have daylight to spend with my girls.”
“They’re still napping,” Noah said. “Let me walk you to your house—there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure,” she said. “Are you doing all right, Adie?”
“Fine, dear. I think the girls should be waking up in another half hour, maybe less.”
“I won’t keep you long,” Noah told her. They walked down the street to Nora’s little house and before they even went inside, Noah said, “I have information about your father. He’s alive, still teaching in the Bay Area and he’s been looking for you.”
She was stopped on a dime. “How do you know this?”
“It was pretty quick—I went searching for Jed Crane in the missing-persons registry—my very first stop on the internet. And what I found was that Nora Crane is the one missing.”
Chapter Four
“I responded to the online missing-persons registry with my name and phone number and when I received a call from Jed Crane, I told him that I had known a Nora Crane in Seattle, but I told him I doubted it was the Nora Crane he was looking for—I said I thought the woman I knew was around thirty years old. And I couldn’t provide an address. He was very forthcoming—he’s been looking for you for a couple of years. Nora, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this—he’s trying to find you because your mother passed away. I couldn’t ask for details without giving you away and there’s nothing on public record about the cause of her death.”
She went instantly pale. “Dead?”
He nodded gravely. “I think we should arrange a meeting with your father. Apparently he has lots of information about your mother and none about you. He said he lost custody of you when you were only four years old.”
“He wanted custody?” she asked, in a state of shock.
“So he says.”
“But I was six. I’m sure I was six—it was first grade. I remember exactly what I did at school that day—I came home and asked where Daddy was and my mother said she didn’t know. That he’d left us.” And so often over the years her mother, Therese, had added that he was no good, that they were better off. She said that getting involved with that man was the biggest mistake of her life, with no regard for how it might make Nora feel.
“I really think you have to look into this,” Noah said.
“But what if he’s a bad person? What if he abused me like my mother said?”
“I believe I can keep you safe. I know you’re not going to throw your trust into him before you have all the evidence you need that he deserves