find her family.
Sara scanned the street ahead and saw him standing where they’d left him. Her silly heart resumed the pattering that had begun when he’d stepped off the platform and stumbled into her arms. She tried to quell it by reminding herself that Kyle Loness would find little interest in her. Why would he? Sara knew nothing about men.
Is it only his computer knowledge that intrigues you?
Of course it was. He might look like a romance hero but Sara knew nothing about romance, men or relationships.
Confused by her thoughts, she refocused on Kyle, who seemed lost in thought. Then he straightened, stepped toward the house and jerked to a stop. In a flash Sara realized why. Kyle had forgotten about the stairs and was now trying to figure out how to maneuver them to get into his house.
She had a clear view of his face. The pain lines she’d glimpsed on the train when he’d hobbled to his seat this morning had now etched deep grooves on either side of his mouth. He bit his bottom lip, grabbed the railings on either side and basically dragged himself upward, inch by painful inch, increasingly favoring his injured leg. His chiseled face stretched taut with concentration as he fought his way upward. She held her breath, silently praying for him, only exhaling when he finally conquered the last stair.
When Kyle paused, chest heaving with his efforts, Sara wanted to cheer. The sun revealed beads of perspiration dotting his face. For a moment he seemed to waver, as he had when he’d stepped off the train and again earlier, in Laurel’s office. Sara took an automatic step forward to help, but froze when he reached out and turned the doorknob.
This was his homecoming. He wouldn’t want her there.
She didn’t belong. Again.
Hurt arrowed a path through her heart. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Focus on why you’re here, Sara. You’re here to help the kids. To figure out God’s plans for your future and to make up for Maria.
For years Sara had tried not to think about the little girl. But now, as she fingered the scar at her wrist, the memories burst free of the prison she’d locked them in.
She’d been twelve when she tried to escape her foster home, unaware that her foster sister had followed her onto the busy street—until she heard Maria’s cry when the car hit her. Sara had rushed to the child, cradling her tiny body as life slipped away, unaware of the shards of headlight glass that dug into her wrists, left behind by the speeding car.
Sweet, loving Maria had died because of her.
In shock and overwhelmed by guilt, Sara had been too scared to tell police the real reason she’d run, so after she’d relayed all she remembered about the car that had hit Maria and received stitches on her wrists, they’d taken her back to her foster parents, the Masters. The couple used Maria’s death to convince Sara that if she tried to leave again, her foster siblings would pay. After that, there’d been no need for the Masters to lock her in the basement each night.
Sara’s overwhelming guilt kept her in their abusive home. She had to stay to protect the other kids, as she hadn’t protected Maria. She’d stayed until her new social worker—Laurel—uncovered the Masters’ perfidy.
Almost eighteen, Sara had finally been removed from their care. But she hadn’t gone home because she didn’t have a home anymore. All she had were faded memories of her mother sitting on the sofa crying and her father stoically staring straight ahead while strange people took her away from them. She’d never known why it had happened and she’d never seen her family again.
Now she needed answers.
Blinking away her tears, Sara watched Kyle disappear inside his house. She waited a moment longer, then walked back to Laurel’s car, puzzling over why she’d felt compelled to ensure Kyle had made it inside his house.
“Because I saw how lost he looked,” she whispered to herself. “Because he needs help. Because... I don’t know.”
“There you are.” Laurel’s gaze rested on Sara’s hand as it rubbed her scar. She moved closer, touched a fingertip to the tear on Sara’s cheek then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve been thinking about the past again. Oh, my dear Sara. You’re free. God has something wonderful in store for you. Don’t let the past drag you down.”
“No, I won’t.” Sara dredged up a smile, hugged her back then walked beside her to the grocery store. But as they strolled down the aisles, she thought of Kyle inside his empty house.
They had something in common. Both of them had lost their families and neither of them could just forget about it.
Maybe, somehow, she could help him get over his loss.
Maybe if she did, he’d teach her how to use a computer.
Maybe then she’d finally find her family.
Chapter Two
Kyle rubbed his eyes, unable to dislodge memories evoked by the familiar aroma of his home. Tanned leather and Old Spice—it smelled of Dad, of happiness, of moments shared together. All of which were gone.
Emotion rose like a tidal wave. He fought for control.
When Kyle was younger, Churchill had been a fantastic adventure he’d embraced. Now it was just another problem in his life.
But for a moment, as the midmorning sun warmed Kyle through the window, the sensation of being loved enveloped him. He relaxed into that embrace. Comfort erased the pain of loss that dimmed everything in his world these days.
Home—without his dad? He closed his eyes and wept.
Moments later, footsteps treading up his stairs shattered his privacy. He rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. The computer part. Of course.
“Come on in,” he called before they could knock.
Laurel preceded Sara into his kitchen. “Do you need more time?” Laurel scanned his face, then the empty tabletop.
“I haven’t looked yet.” He tore his gaze from the wall where a family photo hung. It had been taken six months before his mom’s death. “I was just sitting here—remembering.”
“You can help us out another time, when you’re more rested,” Laurel said in a gentle tone.
“I’m fine.” Kyle didn’t want to give Laurel any more chances to draw him into her program at Lives. He’d do this one thing for her now and then get on with his own life. He opened a door that had once been a pantry and nodded. “Yep, just as I thought.”
A small squeak of surprise made him glance over one shoulder.
Sara’s eyes were huge. She met his gaze, looked back at the shelves and said, “Oh, my.”
Finding her understatement hilarious, Kyle chuckled as he dug through his father’s accumulation of computer parts. “I told you Dad was a pack rat.”
“No luck, huh?” Laurel asked when he drew back from the cupboard.
“Not yet.” Kyle motioned to Sara. “Could you help me for a minute? I think the printer is on the bottom of this shelf. If you could hold up this box while I free it, I wouldn’t have to waste time unpacking all this junk.”
“Okay.” She moved beside him and followed his directions exactly.
With a tug Kyle freed the printer, but in doing so brushed against Sara. Assailed by a host of reactions, from the fragrance of her hair to the way one tendril caressed her cheek, to the fierce look she gave when he had to yank on the cord to free the end, he realized that asking for Sara’s help had been a bad idea.
He moved away, eager to put some distance between them and hopefully end his heart-racing response to her.
“Thanks.” He set the printer on the table and opened it.
“If you