"Yeah. Your mom and my dad only got to be friends after Mom was gone, I imagine, because Dad started spending inordinate amounts of time at the Corral."

She winced a little. He held up a hand. "It wasn't a problem. He was probably self-medicating, but he wasn't a drunk, didn't come home and smack the kid around, nothing like that."

She nodded, seeming relieved. "I remember your mom coming to school sometimes back in our elementary days. She was always so pretty. Always smelled great. Was always bringing things for our bake sales and whatnot and making sure to pack extra so we could sample them." She sighed. "I thought of her as the kind of woman I'd like to grow up to be."

"I think your mom would be disappointed to hear that," he said softly, studying her, touched by her memories of his mother and curious to hear more. To learn how his mom had seemed through the eyes of Kara Brand.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. My mother is the most incredible woman I've ever known. But I never deluded myself into thinking I could be like her. She's tough. Hard as nails, can take anything, get knocked down over and over again and always come back up swinging. Not me." She shook her head. "No, your mom, on the other hand, always seemed...I don't know...a little on the fragile side. Maybe not so strong and sure of herself, and yet somehow she managed to be beautiful and kind and graceful all the same. I think that's what struck me about her most. The way I could see myself in her, only better. You know? She was like the me I wished I could someday be."

He studied her for a long moment. "You have a way, you know that?"

"Do I?"

He nodded. "You say the most beautiful things. Touching things. Things that move me. I don't think my mother has ever been paid a higher compliment than what you just said."

She lowered her eyes, and her cheeks pinkened. "It's nothing but the truth."

"Yeah? Well, I think you got your wish, Kara. I don't know many women who could compare to my mother in my eyes, but you..."

She shook her head. "Don't, Jimmy. I couldn't hold a candle to your mother."

"No, I mean it. You remind me of her. I hadn't even realized how much until this moment. Seeing you here in this kitchen." He shook his head. "It's a little surreal."

"Thank you. You, um...say some pretty nice things yourself."

He nodded and walked around the kitchen, absently opening cupboards and drawers, most of which were empty. "I miss her," he said idly. "I miss her a lot."

"I know. I can't imagine losing my mom even now, much less at the age of ten."

"Eleven," he told her.

"I don't know how an eleven-year-old could handle that. I don't know how you did."

He couldn't quite shake the feeling of deja vu that overtook him as he watched her. She was looking around the room now, just as he had, a little frown between her brows. And he was remembering again. Remembering the funeral, when he stood beside his mother's grave. Half the town had turned out. He'd been in sixth grade, just beginning to develop an interest in girls, but the fairer sex had been the farthest thing from his mind that day. He'd been wallowing, drowning in grief, and wondering how it could possibly be true. How could he and his dad keep waking up every day, going to work and school, coming home and having dinner? How could they when Mom was gone? He expected the entire world to just suddenly stop, and it would have been fine with him if it had.

And then this little girl had come walking up to the graveside. She'd been a fourth grader. Probably nine or so. And even then she'd been painfully shy, quiet. Somehow, though, she'd overcome that shyness to step forward, to lay her little bundle of wild-flowers, which she'd picked herself, onto his mother's casket. And then she'd come to him and she'd said, "I have a lot of sisters and a mom over there."

He'd followed her gaze to where a crowd of females stood. Some younger than him, some older, with their mother.

"So?" he'd asked.

"So you've only got your dad now. So if you need some extras-more family, you know-you can borrow mine."

He had been angry that day, angry at the world. But not so blinded by it that he didn't recognize the gesture as her way of trying to help him. He'd choked out a thank-you, and she'd run back to her family with tears rolling down her little cheeks.

As the memory faded, Kara turned, caught him staring at her. "That was you, wasn't it?" he asked.

She lifted her delicately arched brows. "What was me?"

"The little girl at my mother's funeral. With the scraggly bouquet of forget-me-nots and black-eyed Susans and wild chicory. You offered to share your family with me."

She smiled softly and nodded. "That was me. I wanted to do something, but I just didn't know what. I couldn't imagine anything that would help."

"You cried for her," he said.

"No. Mama promised me she was fine, singing with the angels. I cried for you, Jimmy."

He shook his head slowly. "You've probably got the biggest, softest heart around."

"That's the rumor."

He reached out a hand, stroked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She trembled a little, but even as he thought she might lean closer, her eyes grew serious and she stepped away. "Where's Tyler?" she asked.

That snapped him out of his musings in short order. Since when did he get so lost in nostalgia for the past and admiration for a woman that he forgot to watch his son?

Already Kara was hurrying through the house in search of the boy. He heard her footsteps as she searched the ground floor, so he started up the stairs. Before he got to the top, she was calling to him. "It's okay, Jimmy. He's right here."

A lump came into his throat when he heard where that voice came from. He walked down the stairs and through the house to enter the bedroom that had been his mother's when she'd become too weak to negotiate the stairs.

He'd spent his best times with his mother there. Always believing she'd be well again someday. But that day had never come.

Tyler stood there now, near the window. Colby was nearby with Ty's duffel bag full of belongings, which he must have fetched from the car for the boy. And Kara stood beside Jim in the doorway.

"Can this be my room, Dad?"

Jim swallowed hard. "This is just the room I had in mind for you. It was your grandmother's, you know."

"Really?"

Jim nodded, then turned to Kara. "The place is in great shape, Kara. Better than I realized. You have to let us pay you rent for staying here."

"You're not paying me rent to stay in your own house, Jimmy. No way."

"It's not my own-"

"It's always been yours. Always will be, no matter whose name is on the deed."

"But you're paying a mortgage on it."

She shrugged. "I need a fence around the backyard, and that's just for starters. There'll be plenty to do. And..." She glanced down at Tyler. "Look, I just really want you guys to stay here. And to tell you the truth, I think you need to stay here. Tyler...he needs to touch his roots, Jimmy. And maybe you do, too. Please don't back out now."

He stared at her, studied her and thought she really meant it. He didn't even mind the dime-store analysis. Hell, he half thought she might be right. "Okay," he said. "We'll stay."

"Hot dog!" Colby said. He set the duffel bag on the unmade bed. "I was getting tired of carrying that thing."

Tyler giggled at him, then made his way over to the bag to unzip it and begin unpacking his things all by himself.

Jim didn't sleep that night. In the morning he lay in the bed beside Tyler in what had been the last place he'd ever seen his mother alive. The place where he used to bring her hot tea and dry toast when the chemo got to be too much for her. The place where he used to sit for hours reading to her from her favorite books or watching her favorite TV shows or just talking.

God he'd missed that when she'd gone. He'd had his father, and they'd been close, but it just wasn't the same.

As he looked down at his precious boy sleeping in that bed, he realized he was lucky. At least he'd had a mother for a little while. Hell, eleven years. Better than half his childhood. She'd been there and she'd been great, right up to the end. And the thing that had bothered her most about dying was that she wouldn't be there to keep doing things for him and for his dad.

Poor Tyler. He deserved to know that kind of love. And he wanted it. He wanted it so much.

He thought about that and he thought about Kara. And then he thought, why not? Hell, he'd have to be careful not to let Tyler get too attached until he was sure she was committed. Because there was always a chance she would tell him thanks but no, thanks. But really, why shouldn't he make a try for her? He liked her well enough. If he were going to trust any woman with Tyler, it would be her. She was gorgeous. He was pretty powerfully attracted to her and he had a feeling it was mutual. Those things would help.

And she was the farthest thing from a self-centered party girl that he could imagine. So why not? What did he have to lose?

He pursed his lips, paced through the living room and into the kitchen, thinking it through. There had to be a downside here. A solution this perfect couldn't be without pitfalls.

And as if that realization conjured them to mind, the pitfalls came floating up to make themselves known. He'd lied to Kara Brand. Well, he hadn't lied exactly, but he'd certainly twisted the truth. He'd told her he had lost his wife. But Angela was alive, if not exactly well. He was going to have to come clean about that at some point and hope Kara would forgive him.

And there was a second issue. If she were to sign on as Tyler's new mommy-as my new wife, a little voice whispered-she would have to relocate. She'd have to move to Chicago with him.

Jim sighed. He couldn't quite imagine Kara Brand thriving in the city. She was a wildflower, a long-limbed tiger lily, not a hothouse rose.

Hell, he doubted she would consider leaving her family anyway. Maybe, though. Maybe...for Tyler.

The sound of a motor drew his attention away from the subject at hand, and he looked up to see that the sun had risen some time while he'd been mulling, and the object of his thoughts was backing a red pickup truck into the driveway.

He watched her pull out into the road, straighten it and back in again. She cut the engine and got out, then tried to close the door softly. It made him smile as he stepped out the front door. "Don't worry about that. I'm already awake."

The way she looked at him, her eyes kind of landing on his chest and getting stuck there, reminded him what he was wearing. Jeans. No shirt. And it wasn't warm outside.

She stared at his chest hard enough to burn holes through his skin, then jerked her eyes away almost violently. She held up two big paper bags. "I, uh, brought some essentials."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Can I come in?"

"It's your house." He held the door open and she came inside, started taking items out of the bags. There was a big box with the name of a doughnut chain on the cover, and he felt his stomach rumble in appreciation. Then a pint of half-and-half, a bag of sugar, a pack of paper filters and a pound of coffee. Finally she pulled out a drip coffeemaker, set it on the counter and plugged it in. "Mom had this one in the back closet. She bought a new one last year." She took the carafe from the burner, filled it with tap water and poured it into the coffeemaker's reservoir. He grabbed a filter, tucked it into the basket and added coffee, then slid it home.

She flicked on the power button.

He leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. She wasn't dressed up today. She wore jeans and a baby T-shirt that revealed a good four inches of long waist. She was tall-he liked that. Tall and willowy. She had a denim jacket over the clothes, but it was unbuttoned. Her hair was loose and a little careless. He liked that, too.

"Where's Colby this morning?" she asked.

He frowned. "I assumed he was still sleeping. He took an upstairs bedroom."

"Nope. His car's gone."

"Odd. I guess I must have dozed a little after all. I didn't hear him leave."

Kara took a few more items from the second bag-two boxes of cartoon-character cereal, a dozen eggs and a jug of milk. It was as she reached for the fridge that she paused, then yanked a sheet of paper off the door. "Note," she said. She handed it to him and put the milk away.

Jim scanned the paper. "'Had to go out. Will call later,'" he read. Then he frowned. "That's not like C.B."

"Maybe he met a pretty girl."

"He hasn't had time to meet a pretty girl."

"Then maybe he's looking to meet one." She sent him a smile that somehow eased his mind.

He stopped worrying about Colby and got back to thinking about his plan of action with Kara Brand. "Actually," he said, "maybe he has had time to meet a pretty girl. I certainly managed to."

"No fair," she said. "You met me in grade school."

"I suppose that's true." He was glad she hadn't denied being pretty. "So what brings you around so early, Kara?" he asked.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Hell, no. I told you you didn't. I've been up all night."

Instantly the teasing light left her eyes, and a flood of sympathy and concern replaced it. "It's this place, isn't it?" she asked. "I knew it got to you last night. Are you okay? I should have stayed here and let you guys use my room at the house."

He held her gaze and nodded firmly. "You ever worry about yourself the way you worry about everyone else, Kara?"

She seemed to consider the question. "There's no reason to. I have all I need."

"Do you?"

She averted her eyes, cleared her throat and changed the subject. "I've got the supplies for the fence out in the truck. Ordered everything weeks ago, and it came in to the lumber yard this morning, so I went to pick it up. I thought I'd sneak in here and get it unloaded without waking you guys."

"Yeah? And what were you going to do with the coffee and doughnuts?"

"My plan was to slip in and leave them in the kitchen for you, along with a pot of coffee brewing." She nodded toward the bag. "There's hot cocoa mix in there for Ty. With mini-marshmallows."

Her eyes met his, then traveled down to his chest again. He saw something in them. Attraction. Maybe a hint of desire. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Assuming he meant to go on with this insane notion. Now that he was face-to-face with it, standing at the threshold of it, it seemed a little crazy.

He glanced toward the bedroom, but Ty wasn't making a sound. Probably still out cold. He normally slept until at least eight-thirty. So it was safe to play with this thing a little, find out just how deeply her interest in him extended.

He moved a little closer to her. She backed up until the table blocked her and looked up at him with eyes so wide he thought he could fall into them.

She was nervous. Afraid of him in some way, though he couldn't imagine why. He put his hands on her arms, trailed an easy path from her shoulders to her wrists and back again, as he lowered his head a little closer.

She nearly hit him in the chin with the box of doughnuts when she snatched it off the table and lifted it between them. "I think the coffee's done," she blurted. "I'll just..." She shoved the doughnut box into his chest and let it go. He had to either take it from her or let it fall, so he took it and backed off a step. Kara darted out from between him and the table faster than a rabbit slipping from the jaws of a hunting dog, shot to the counter and started pouring coffee into the cups she'd brought along. She left his on the counter, took hers and sailed out the door.

Jim stood there for a moment. Okay, something definitely went wrong here. He wasn't sure just what, but his approach apparently needed some honing.

He went to put on a shirt, located some shoes and checked on Tyler. Then he carried his coffee outside. Kara had slipped on a pair of calfskin gloves and was taking lumber out of the bed of the pickup and stacking it in the backyard.

"Hey, hey, hold on now. I'm the guy here. Shouldn't I be doing that?"

She glanced up at him. Wary. Skittish. "No such thing as man's work in my family." She shrugged. "Then again, that might be because there were no men. We did it all ourselves."