The thought came in an instant way that overwhelmed him. He began to shake-like those stories in the Bible when someone saw an angel and fell flat on their face. He began to feel like that in the thickness of the room. Something, Someone, was here with him.

Lord G.o.d, is that You?

Nothing. He thought through the words he'd heard so deep that it took his mind a second to sort out the meaning. Could G.o.d really miss him?

His past flashed across his mind. As a boy he'd always been glad to go to church, stand up and sing, read his Bible, and ponder the stories of the people of G.o.d. So innocent. So believing and soft-hearted, yielding to any understanding that might come along and help him grow. He saw Molly's face, a pretty girl with brown ringlets and a fierce desire to escape the poverty of her life. He'd been the ticket out. Her manipulation had turned that naive boy into a hardened man. He hadn't had much respect for any woman outside his family after that. Didn't trust them. Woman after woman until Angelene. They'd all been the same. Grasping, greedy, wanting to take anything from him that they could. Why were they like that? Why had he always attracted that sort of woman?

He thought back on the recent conversation he'd had with Angelene. He'd gone to see her after hearing from a stable hand that Kendra's horse was returned from Angelene's house. It was the last place she'd visited before boarding the ship to England. Angelene had tried to play her games with him again.

"Dorian, you know she was never right for you, don't you? An English aristocrat and all. You know I could make you happy. Not her. Never her."

Dorian had snapped, grasped her by the neck, and looked down into her dark brown eyes, waiting, hoping to finally see some fear there. "I will never be with you, Angelene. Do you understand? I will never love you. Never."

She nodded, fear and tears making her eyes gla.s.sy, but it was a look that said she finally understood. And he'd not heard from her since. He would never entertain that kind of woman again.

They had made his heart hard. He'd turned from G.o.d's voice, G.o.d's presence, and thrown himself into escape. He saw his ship, arms above his head and throat raw with exalted shouts as they reveled in yet another storm. He saw himself on Kahn this afternoon, riding h.e.l.lbent toward numbness. It was what he did. What he did without G.o.d.

Dorian curled over his upraised knee and allowed the anguish to encompa.s.s him. His shoulders shook with silent spasms as the full truth came into his mind and seeped through his soul. He'd replaced G.o.d with adventure. He'd replaced trust with control. And he'd let the only woman he would ever truly love leave him. Forgive me, Father. Forgive me. I want her back. I want You back. I lay my life before You. Whatever You want. Whatever is Your will. Forgive me. Oh, G.o.d forgive me and take me back. I don't want You to miss me anymore!

He breathed hard, rasping into the quiet room. His breathing lengthened and slowly, by degrees, evened out. Finally, a deep peace settled into his very bones. He felt he could lie down and sleep for days. He breathed long and deep, lifting his head. Thank You, G.o.d. I praise You. Thank You for salvation and healing and revelation and truth. Thank You, Father. A joy he hadn't felt in a very long time filled him. Peace and joy. His gaze roved the dark room and then there, peeking out from under the bed, something glowed white like a flag lit up by the moon. He stood and walked toward it. Bent down and picked it up.

It was a paper-wrapped package tied in ribbon. He turned it over and over in his hands, able to feel it more than see it. Taking up a candle, he lit it and set it on the bedside table. He sat down on the bed and folded back the paper. A folded note fluttered to the floor. Bending, he picked it up and read the familiar scroll of Kendra's handwriting. "Happy Birthday, darling! All my love, Kendra." His heart began to pound as he laid the note on the bed. "All my love." She'd said it, but had she meant it? Dorian turned back to the paper and reached for the white fabric. It unfolded as he lifted it out. A baby's christening gown. He swallowed hard as the garment's meaning slammed into him.

A baby. Oh Lord, a baby.

Kendra was going to have his baby. His heart raced as the realization took hold. If she was going to have a baby why did she leave? Couldn't she have stayed for the child's sake, if for no other reason? He had to go after her. He had to find the answers to his questions. And whatever else happened, he was going to be a father. They were a family and it was time to get them back.

Kendra looked out the window at the pa.s.sing countryside. They had just crested Bury Hill and could see Arun Valley with its rolling farmland and dotted with cottages and sheep. It was cultivated, Kendra thought, pressing her chin into her hand. It seemed so civilized even though they were in the middle of the countryside. Why, you couldn't have gotten a carriage through the American countryside, it was so wild and untamed and beautiful-like its people-like Dorian.

It was night when they reached the outer gardens of Arundel Castle. She sat up straighter as they clattered over the cobblestones through the huge stone gate and then over the bridge where decades ago there used to be a moat. Her heart began hammering as the hired carriage swung around the drive and stopped at the entrance to the castle. What would Uncle Andrew do? Would he let her stay? She brushed the questions aside with determination. She'd come this far, she would just have to find out. Kendra took a deep breath and she stepped out onto the drive. She looked at the castle, up and up the ma.s.sive walls to the coat of arms carved into the stone above the door. Their lion and unicorn stood ready to guard the castle from harm. The impact of the scale of the place hit her like never before. It couldn't be more different than Aunt Amelia's simple log home.

And everything appeared so fine and well cared for, much better than when she left. She had expected to see more disrepair, but the windows sparkled in the evening twilight, every one of them glowing with warm light. The ivy covering some of the stone was well manicured. Perfect. That's how it looked. Like a painting.

Waving the driver on to the stables, she gathered up her skirts and lifted her chin. She grasped hold of a new, highly polished door knocker and banged. How surprised Hobbs, their dear old butler, would be when he saw her. She had an eerie feeling that this wasn't her home any longer, but she pushed it aside and smiled as broadly as her nervous stomach would allow.

Instead of Hobbs a reed-thin man with a long nose answered the door. He appeared affronted by the task. "Yes?" he drawled while looking down his nose.

"Is Hobbs dead?" Kendra blurted out in her shock.

"Hobbs?" The man blinked but remained so stoic he could have been a statue.

"Forgive me. I'm Kendra Col, uh, Townsend, the earl's niece, and I expected Hobbs, the butler who has been employed here for years, to answer the door. Has he pa.s.sed on?" While she spoke she moved toward the dome-like foyer with the distinct impression that she would have to force her way in.

"I was recently employed. I don't know anything about Hobbs."

Drawing herself up and taking on her most intimidating posture, she stared daggers at the man and frowned. "You may call me Lady Townsend. Is my uncle at home? I would like to see him immediately."

"I suppose I can see if he will see you."

Kendra clamped her mouth down before she said something she regretted. "Thank you." She forced out.

After he left, Kendra was struck by her surroundings. New, thick rugs warmed the floors. Large, dark lacquered urns that looked to be from j.a.pan held tall, potted plants overflowing the corners with leaves. She walked through the door to her right, into the front salon, and gasped in disbelief. The room was more beautiful than it had ever been. New drapes in a honey and cream-colored velvet hung over the windows, complementing upholstered chairs and sofas in a deep orange and gold. A purple chaise sat in one grouping with dark satinwood tables loaded down with painted porcelain statuettes and pretty vases and gilt-covered boxes. Across from those pieces against a wall was the loveliest desk she'd ever seen with delicate carved legs, and a gleaming turquoise inlaid top. Kendra turned round and round in a slow circle, taking it all in. New lamps and branches of candelabra lit the room, a rich painting graced one wall that must have been six feet tall. A glittering chandelier hung above her head. She felt numb. Unable to think why . . . how. The last time she'd seen this room there had been only a few worn pieces of furniture left from the sale of all their belongings. How could this be? Where had Uncle Andrew gotten the money for all of this? It was impossible that he could have earned it in the short time she had been away.

"You'll find the rest of the rooms refurbished as well," the soft voice spoke from the doorway. Whirling, she turned to see her uncle.

"It was about time, too. The place was looking shabby under your father's care, I must say."

There was a sneer in his voice that made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

"Please, my dear, come into my library. We have much to discuss."

Motioning for Kendra to precede him, she started to speak and then acquiesced, walking down the long hall, the back of her neck crawling with fear.

She walked into the dim library and sat in the chair Andrew motioned toward. He came around the desk that used to be her father's and sat across from her.

"When my butler told me you were here, I must say I was very, very angry. You have always done your best to make my well-laid plans go awry. But after considering it, I'm glad you're here. I should have done the job myself in the first place and saved myself the ha.s.sles of those b.u.mbling colonial relatives of yours." He shrugged, his lips curving into a ghastly smile. "You know what they say, if you want a job done right . . . do it yourself," his arm waved in the air as his voice trailed off into a chuckle.

Kendra pressed her back into the chair shaking her head back and forth. Panic rose to her throat making her want to gag.

"I can see understanding is slow to dawn so I will have to explain. Such the pity." But he looked delighted to explain. Dear G.o.d, help. He looks stark-raving mad!

"You see, I've been a cheated man. I was the firstborn twin, not your father. But that unfortunate midwife tied a ribbon to his foot and they all insisted he was first." His eyes took on a glazed appearance and he looked to be in a trance as he continued, "She was my first kill. Strangulation. Fought rather hard but I was strong for my age."

"Age?" The question slipped out.

"Ah. Fourteen. Mother knew I deserved the t.i.tle, but father loved Edward, so I became the second son." Andrew walked over and grasped Kendra around the neck. Standing over her he looked down into her wild eyes. "I couldn't just let him have it, you know. I vowed long ago that it would all be mine, including that paltry dowry your grandmother set up for you."

Kendra gasped for air. He let go and shoved her against the back of the chair. His movements were slow, casual, as he walked to the liquor decanter, pouring a long draught. After swallowing the contents, he smacked his lips together and continued. Kendra tried not to moan aloud with fear. "They all thought me such a spoiled dandy. No head for business. Couldn't handle my money." He laughed, a low and menacing sound that sent p.r.i.c.kles of panic over Kendra's skin. "Fools-the lot of them. Especially Edward. All along I was making my fortune, more money than your father had ever dreamed of having."

Kendra shook her head and gasped out, "But you lost everything to that company . . ."

"The Brougham Company?" Andrew threw back his head and laughed again, this time loud and boisterous. Then he abruptly stopped and stared at Kendra-waiting, waiting, like a snake about to strike, he waited for her to see it.

"The Brougham Company. It wasn't bankrupt like you told my father. The ships that failed . . . they didn't fail, did they? It was all lies. Is that how you gained all this wealth?"

"I see that full understanding is beyond your reach, my dear. And it is such a brilliant plan. I wouldn't want you to miss a single nuance of it." His eyes lit up with glee. "Come now, you must see the irony soon. It's so delightful. The ships in my company are divided into two fleets. Half are legitimate merchant ships and the other half"-he grinned, his eyes feverish-"are pirate ships. You have even met with one of them! I hire my men from Newgate to work for me. Ex-prisoners, they're cheap labor and have the black hearts that I need. It's brilliant, really." His chest filled out with pride. "I send out two ships on each excursion. The pirate ship steals the cargo from other vessels then meets up with the merchant ship, where the stolen goods are then transported to the legitimate ship. My merchant ship forges papers doc.u.menting the sales history of the cargo and then sails to ports to carry out honest trade. You see, pirates have long had the problem of being able to sell what they steal. To appear more legitimate and sell my merchandise, I use the appearance of the Brougham Company as a front and the legal merchants don't know they're buying stolen goods. Genius, isn't it?"

Kendra was too stunned to answer. After a moment she spoke out in horror, "So you tricked my father into giving you everything he owned and left us practically penniless. But why?"

"But that's not all! I tricked him into giving me his wealth, but I still needed the t.i.tle, and as you know, there was only one way to get that." Andrew raised his brows in expectation.

"You killed my father," Kendra whispered in horror. "You murdered your own brother for the t.i.tle."

"Kill number two, I'm afraid. It was rightfully mine." Andrew's face reddened. "It was mine!"

"But if you were going to kill him, why bother stripping us of everything? It would all be yours after . . . after he died."

Andrew stepped closer, got in her face. "I wanted him to suffer as I had suffered. I wanted him to feel what it was like to lose everything."

"But he still had me, didn't he? We weren't as miserable as you had planned because all that really mattered was that we had each other."

Andrew turned his head away, white lines of anger on either side of his clenched mouth. "Yes, well, we can't have everything we want, can we? Looking back, I should have had you in the carriage accident. That would have destroyed him." He swung away from her, agitated.

Kendra could barely manage to get the words past the terror in her constricted throat. "No, it wouldn't have. My father looked to G.o.d for his strength. You couldn't take that away from him."

Andrew shot her a dark look. "Perhaps. And what shall I do with you now?" He tapped his bottom lip with one finger. "Since those b.u.mbling colonials couldn't finish you off, I will have to do it myself. It's too bad though, no one would have missed you in America. You've no doubt made your presence known across the countryside. I'll have to think of some accident for you. A fire, perhaps?" He mused with brows raised and a cruel twist to his lips. "Burning flesh, melting off your bones." He shuddered as if appalled by the thought.

Kendra could barely hear him above the roar of her heartbeat as he came nearer. The room grew dark around her. She fought for consciousness. She lost.

Kendra woke to utter darkness and a damp, musty smell. Struggling to rise off the dirt floor, she stood up, one arm curled protectively around her stomach. Andrew killed my father. The memory of what she had discovered hammered against her mind and caused her stomach to twist with nausea. She had known Andrew to be selfish and lazy, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought him capable of something so horrid. The man had murdered her father, his own brother, and was planning to kill her if she didn't find a way out of here. Panic rose in a bubble in her throat. She had to escape!

"h.e.l.lo! Anybody here?"

Thrusting out her hands, she edged forward, afraid of what she might step on, until she felt a wall. Where had he put her? She turned in one direction and felt along the wall, easing herself around the room. A piece of furniture banged onto her thigh, making her cry out. It was a table. Feeling along the top, she found a lantern and a tinderbox. Thank G.o.d, Andrew hadn't left her without light. With trembling fingers she struck the tinder to the flint several times until she had a wavering flame. Careful not to extinguish it, she lifted the gla.s.s globe on the lantern and lit the wick. Turning around with the lantern held high, she studied her surroundings. The old abandoned cellar. There were sagging, half-rotted wooden shelves against one wall which held some dust-coated jars. The rest of the room was bare except for the crude table she was standing beside. Terror rose back up inside her throat. Would Andrew bring her food? Water? Or did he plan to leave her down here to die? She took a breath of the damp, cool air and walked to the shelves. If she got desperate enough she would open a jar and see if there was anything edible inside. She swallowed a wave of nausea. Please G.o.d, don't let it come to that. Help me find a way out.

Looking up over her head, she could just make out the outline of the door. It was a good fifteen feet above her head. She noticed that the wooden steps had been removed and wondered how she had gotten down to the floor. Andrew had probably just dropped her into the hole. The walls were b.u.mpy dirt, but not anything she could climb. If only she had some kind of tool, she could dig out steps in the wall, but there was nothing. She could only hope that if she waited, there would be a moment when she could escape. She had to believe that. She just needed a chance.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Dorian lifted his spygla.s.s to one eye and peered toward the eastern horizon. Never had a journey seemed to drag by as this one had. Never had time seemed to stand so still. Two, maybe three more days, and they would reach the London harbor. Glancing up at the dark clouds hovering near, he clamped his teeth together, suppressing a snarl. The weather had been clear up to now; cold, but clear. If this storm held off it would mean the difference between three days or as much as five. He didn't want to wait that long. He didn't want to wait another five minutes to get his wife back. But, of course, he had no choice. With balled fists, he turned away from the endless waves and scanned the deck for John. It had been a good thing John was along. His friend had kept him from killing members of his crew with his demand for speed more than once on this voyage; he'd kept him sane.

Dorian found John on the foredeck and walked over.

"You think we'll outpace the storm?" John asked the same question on his mind.

"It'll be close. I want to check those gaffs and that mainsail that was giving us trouble one more time, then I'll meet you in my cabin for some dinner."

"You know we've checked everything three times already today." John raised a brow at him, a look of concern in his brown eyes.

Dorian ran his hand through his hair, turned his head away, and sighed. "I know. It's just that I need something to do. This waiting is killing me."

John gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You are driving yourself crazy with this."

Dorian took a deep breath and let it slowly out. "I'm going to need a miracle to win her back."

"Good thing we know the Author of those."

The squeaking of hinges brought Kendra out of her sleepy haze where she had been curled up on the table, well away from the dirt floor where she imagined spiders and rats might live. Bolting upright, she saw daylight above her and a cloth bundle being lowered by a rope.

"Andrew?" she shouted. "Please, Andrew, let me out of here. I won't tell anyone what you have done. I'll go back to America and disappear."

A snorting laugh was her response. "You'll not get anything from him, Lady Kendra." It was the butler. "I'm surprised he is not letting you starve to death."

Kendra scrambled off the table and ran to the swinging bundle. She hurried to untie it and grasped it to her while the rope was pulled back up and the door slammed shut.

Taking the food to the table, Kendra unwrapped it to find half a loaf of bread, a small piece of cheese, some salt pork, and a canteen of water. Opening the canteen first, she took a long swallow. She wanted to gobble down the food as fast as possible, but she made herself eat slowly. Still hungry when the last crumb was gone, Kendra went over to the dirty jars. Taking the hem of her dress, she attempted to clean them enough to see what was inside. It looked to be fruit preserves, maybe sweet potatoes in another. After several attempts to pry open one of the jars, Kendra fell back against the table in frustration. The lid wouldn't budge. As she looked at the jar, an idea came to her. She could break it open and use the broken gla.s.s to dig grooves into the wall. If she dug them out in such a way that there were handholds, she might be able to climb up to the door. Taking up the largest jar, Kendra walked to the table. The corner was sharp. Raising the jar above her head, Kendra crashed it down on the corner of the table. The table wobbled and moved along the wall. She dropped the broken jar as it fell to the floor. Bending down, she picked up the largest piece of gla.s.s and put it on the table. It was sharp and would cut her hand if she used it like a knife. What she needed was some sort of handle. Lifting the hem of her dress, she reached for her petticoat and ripped off the flounced edge. There. That would do. Wrapping it around the end of the gla.s.s, she set to work.

Sitting on the floor, she began to make her first groove at knee level. The walls were hard-packed earth, making the process slower than she'd hoped. Within an hour, droplets of sweat dripped from her brow, but she kept going. Now and then she would take a short break and take a small drink of precious water, but only when she had to. Her hands ached and cramped, causing her to stop to ma.s.sage or stretch them, and then she would start again. After four steps were made, Kendra crawled back up onto the table. The room flooded with darkness as she extinguished the lantern, but she was too tired to feel afraid. Closing her eyes, she was instantly asleep.

She woke with a start, terror gripping her. Her mind began to clear of the nightmare she had dreamed. Andrew . . . coming at her with his hands outstretched . . . as if to strangle her. He laughed in an evil roar while she cried out for her baby's life.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to shake it off. Tears threatened to overwhelm her but she shook her head against them. There was no time to cry. She had to escape. She looked down at her hands, dirt-encrusted fingernails, swollen and aching. They looked like they had been beaten. Ma.s.saging them to work out the stiffness, Kendra picked up the gla.s.s and climbed up to the second groove, hanging onto the third groove with her free hand, she reached as high as she could and began to dig. Only three more grooves and she would be able to reach the door. The thought that the door might be locked kept trying to creep out of her subconscious and into conscious thought, but Kendra wouldn't let herself dwell on it. There was no reason for them to lock it, as they would think she could never reach it.

A creaking warned her that the door was being opened, so she jumped down to sit on the ground, the broken gla.s.s hidden under her skirts. The butler peered down into the hole. "I see you made it through the night," he yelled down, scowling. "I would have thought the rats had done you in by now."

Kendra hadn't seen any rats but she wasn't about to tell him that. The old man would probably find some to join her. Peering through the bright light, Kendra saw a similar bundle being lowered. Her stomach growled in antic.i.p.ation. "Please, can you tell me what day it is? How long have I been here?"

"Time won't mean much to you before long. Lord Townsend is busy working out the details of your demise. But if you say pretty please, I might tell you."

Anger welled up inside Kendra, but the desire to know the day was greater. "Please," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The old man cackled with glee. "You've been in that hole for three days, and it's Tuesday, about noon. I'm to bring you food once a day around noon." With that, he slammed the door closed and darkness engulfed the room once again. Three days! She'd been here three days, and if what he said was true, it didn't sound like Andrew would keep her here much longer. Grabbing up the bundle, Kendra ate the bread and the tiny piece of meat as fast as she could and took a small drink of water from the canteen. The last canteen had not lasted very long, and Kendra had to fight the urge to drink her fill of the new one. Wiping her dirty hands on her skirt, Kendra once again climbed up to the step she was working on and began again. If she worked hard, she might be able to escape by tomorrow night.

As soon as the Angelina docked, Dorian set his plans into action. He and John would go to the Arundel estate while the rest of the crew stocked up on supplies and waited for their return on board the ship. He sent John to buy the best horses he could find and get directions. If they rode fast and had decent horses, they might make it by tomorrow night.

Kendra looked up from the dirt floor at the eight grooves in the wall. She was ready to make her escape. She guessed that the butler had brought her food twelve hours ago. That would make it right around midnight, if her calculations were correct. She waited a little longer in case she was wrong. It must be dark when she made her escape and the later the hour the better. Her only chance was if no one was guarding the door, and if the door was not locked from the outside. She had gently pressed on it after she had carved out the last step and it seemed to give, but she remembered the squeaky hinges and didn't want to press her luck in broad daylight. Any number of people could be milling about the area and hear her.

What she would do once she gained freedom, she wasn't sure. She was hoping that she would be able to find one of the old servants she knew to help her. If not, she would just have to take a horse and get away as fast as possible. London. Back to London. It was the only place where she might find help in exposing all Andrew had done. What she really needed was proof. Doc.u.ments that told of the schemes, the fake company, cargo records, letters, something. The obvious place to look would be Andrew's desk in the library. The likelihood that Kendra could get into the house and down to his room unnoticed was slim, but if she couldn't find anyone to help her, she would have to take that chance.

Looking down at her filthy hands, Kendra cringed. She had worked all day to finish the steps, and there was barely any feeling left in them. Using some of the precious water, she dampened a piece of cloth from her ripped petticoat and attempted to clean them as best she could. They were getting so dirty that she had hardly been able to bend her fingers enough to hold the gla.s.s, but her hands weren't the only casualties. Her whole body felt like it had been beaten, and she was covered with dirt from head to toe. She knew that even if she did see a servant, he or she would be hard pressed to even recognize her. With that thought, Kendra took a clean corner of the cloth and wet it. Using the cloth to wipe her face, she breathed a sigh of relief. She would never waste water again, should she get out of this mess. Taking the pins out of her hair, Kendra shook the ma.s.s out and ran her fingers through it to bring it to some sort of order. The effort was almost too much for her tired arms. Taking a fortifying breath, Kendra braided it into one fat braid down her back. She then paced in the small cell, trying to stay awake. It was tempting to sleep for a few hours, but she didn't dare, as tired as she was she wouldn't wake up until morning. The thought of spending one more night here was more that she could bear.

After what Kendra hoped was an hour, she prepared to make her move. Taking a clean piece of cloth, she wrapped it around the jagged gla.s.s. The gla.s.s had served her well as a shovel and now it would act as a weapon too. Next, she tucked her skirts up into the neckline of her dress to free her feet to climb and snuffed out the light. She wished she could have kept the light on, but she didn't want to risk someone seeing it when she opened the door.

Taking a determined breath, Kendra began to climb the grooves in the wall. Reaching the sixth step with her feet, she clung to the eighth step with one hand while stretching her other arm upward until she felt the door. She pushed on it while saying a silent prayer. Joy burst through her. It wasn't locked. They never dreamed she'd find a way out. Her relief was so great she almost lost her footing and fell to the floor. Catching herself, she pushed up on the door, letting in a cool shaft of moonlight. She climbed higher and flung the door open, it landing on the ground with a soft thud. Everything in her stilled as she waited for the hue and cry, but nothing but moonlight and the chill of the night air greeted her. Scrambling up the last groove, she pulled herself up and out of the opening, landing on the ground beside the hole. Her gaze darted around the moonlit grounds, seeing the kitchen garden and back of the kitchen building. She stood and lowered the door back into place. No one seemed to be around. Crouching low to the ground, Kendra tiptoed to the kitchen and then stood on tiptoe to peer through a window. Empty, dark, and quiet. Perfect. She crept to the door and opened it. Going inside, she washed her hands in a basin of clean water, packed a bundle of food-eating while she packed-and filled her canteen from a covered bucket of fresh water, drinking her fill first. She decided she better not carry her supplies with her to Andrew's library, so she hid them among some bushes just outside the door before making her way to the main quarters of the castle. Silently, she crept down the dark hall, feeling her way with one hand skimming the wall, toward Andrew's library. The door was shut. She took a deep breath, reached out, and pressed on the latch. It creaked a little as she pushed the door open. She stood still, not daring to breath. Fright washed over her like a bucket of cold water splashed into her face. Do it. You have to do it. Stepping into the room, she closed the door behind her.

She was in the room. Her heart pounded in the silent room as she felt around for a light and found a branch of candles. She lit them from the tinderbox in her pocket and made her way to the desk. An overwhelming sadness took hold of her as she ran her fingertips along the gleaming top. This had been her father's desk. She remembered all the times she had sat next to him while he worked. How patient he had been with all her questions and interruptions. He always stopped his work to answer her or show interest in her ideas and solutions to problems. Once, when she had been sitting next to him, she noticed that he seemed troubled. "What's the matter, Papa?" she had asked in her eleven-year-old voice.

He had turned and looked at her with such love. "Nothing, my sweet. I was just missing your mother."

Kendra's heart broke at the pain in his eyes. She knew she missed having a mother, but she didn't really miss her mother because she had never known her.

"What was she like?" Kendra asked in a soft voice.

Her father's eyes became misty as he gazed in the distance. "She was wonderful. She loved life so much, Kendra. She was kind and thoughtful of others. She appreciated the small things in life and was not caught up in all this," he said with a wave. Turning to Kendra, he clasped her small hand in his and said with emotion clogging his throat, "She loved you very much. We wanted a child for a long time and then you finally came. Her last words were about you."

"What did she say?"