Surprise and concern filled her eyes. "I'm dressed for bed."

"There's a robe in your closet."

She stood so long without answering, he was sure she'd refuse. But she agreed and appeared a minute later, wrapped and tied tightly, the sleeves bunched up. He led her out to the balcony. The night was chilly, even though he was mostly dry except for his head, which was still a little damp. The sound of the breakers formed an immutable rhythm as he lit the candle in the glass globe on the table.

He seated her and pulled a chair from the other side of the table for himself, drawing the peace of the night inside him. A snifter of brandy would be the perfect complement, but he fought the urge.

Jill looked out over the water. "What are those lights?"

"Oil rig. Swift of Ipswich."

"It's actually pretty."

"They call them crystal ships." But that wasn't what he wanted to discuss. "Tell me about Kelsey."

Jill crossed her arms over her chest. "She's beautiful, Morgan. You saw that much in her pictures." Her voice tightened. "Even though her hair is gone. She has such sweet expressions and a smile you can't resist."

He leaned back in his chair and let the breakers center his mind. "You said she was smart."

"She came from us."

He nodded. Intelligence did seem to have some genetic connection.

"She's very spiritual." Jill smiled. "She loves the Lord. Such a pure faith."

Morgan studied the stars over the water. His daughter loved the God he actively eluded. A smile brushed his lips. Touche.

"She designed her own Web page, calls it Kelsey's Hope Page. She answers questions from other kids with cancer and shares her faith, the love of Jesus. It's a wonderful page."

Kelsey's Hope Page. Maybe that was the place to start knowing his daughter. A cold, impersonal knowing, yet he could contact her, ask her if-no, that would put her in a hard position. Still, the site would give him something of her. "Has she written you tonight?"

"I don't know. Your laptop ..."

"It's in the office. I'll get it." She looked as though she might stop him but didn't. He paused at the door. "Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Help yourself in the kitchen." He had meant to offer it earlier, but the sunset beach had distracted him. Just because he had to fast didn't mean she did. He went down and brought the laptop up, using his wireless LAN to open the Internet.

Jill returned with an apple and a handful of whole-grain crackers. She went to the railing and looked out over the moonlit sea, obviously in no rush to check her mail, even though he'd booted up the computer. She couldn't be that fascinated with the lighted ships, but he gave her space.

Gazing on the water, she said, "It looks cold."

"It is. I just got out."

She half turned. "You went swimming?"

"Needed something to cool me down."

She turned away.

"So tell me more."

She sighed. "I don't know, Morgan. It's not as though I've known her all these years. They never sent pictures or letters or anything like that. It was pretty much a closed adoption, except we knew each other's names. The first contact I had was the letter telling me she had leukemia."

"That wasn't the first contact."

She glanced over her shoulder.

"You carried her to term. You birthed her."

Jill dropped her chin with a wounded look. Was she surprised he would resent her having had that much? "I held her for half an hour when she was born, memorized each finger, each wisp of hair. Her eyes were your color even then. She was so tiny, so incredible. But that was all I had."

Morgan sensed her loss. "Why didn't you keep her?"

"I could never have brought her home."

He pictured her father, firm, upright, narrow. An illegitimate grandchild would not go over well. "I'm sorry." And he was. She'd lived all those years knowing her child was out there, wondering, imagining ...

He stood up and joined her. She didn't pull away from his hand on her back. Maybe she sensed it was no more than comfort, what little he had to give.

The door opened behind them. "Perdoneme. Senorita Jill, you have a phone call." Dressed in a floor-length house gown and robe, Consuela handed her the cordless phone.

"Thank you." Jill took the phone. "Hello? Hi ... Kelsey." Her eyes darted to him.

Morgan tensed. His daughter was on the phone.

Jill shifted away from his hand. "How are you?"

He checked his watch. Almost one in the morning on the East Coast. Why was she calling? Had they changed protocol? Kelsey wouldn't be the one to tell them. Certainly not in the middle of the night. And how did she have his number? Jill must have given it.

Jill's voice continued. "No, I haven't. Actually I was just going to check my mail now. The computer's booted up, but I hadn't gotten in. I didn't think about the time change or I would have done it sooner. I should have."

She sounded nervous. Did she want him to leave?

"Yes. How did you know?" She listened for a moment, then, "Oh."

It was frustrating hearing only her awkward answers. He wanted to grab the phone and say, Talk to me, Kelsey. Let me hear your voice.

"Yes. At least I'll be at the hospital and drive him home." She moistened her lips.

Him? They were discussing him.

Jill met his eyes. "Honey, I don't know. You need to decide that."

His breath paused. What was Kelsey deciding? Something to do with him?

"Okay." She held the phone out.

His heart made a slow flip.

"She only has permission to call me, but she wants to talk to you, and-" Jill smiled-"she's adolescent enough to stretch it."

Morgan took the phone, brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi." The voice on the other end was impossibly sweet. "I know this is weird." She paused just long enough for him to grasp that it was his daughter's voice. "But I wanted to thank you beforehand. You won't be feeling good tomorrow, so I thought it might help to know I appreciate it."

She was worried how he'd feel? "I'm glad to help, Kelsey." His throat was raw.

"You'll be less glad tomorrow."

He swallowed. "You're wrong. Even more so tomorrow, and the next day, and especially when it starts to work."

She drew a slow, labored breath. "Can I ask you another favor?"

"Of course."

"Will you send me a picture for my room?"

He nodded, though she couldn't see him. "A picture of what?"

"Of you."

His throat closed painfully. "Sure. If you want it."

"Thanks. Mom thought it would be hard for me to talk to you. But I'm glad I did."

"Me too."

"And I'm glad Jill's there, that you're together."

Morgan glanced at Jill, who was watching him pensively. "Me too."

"Bye."

"Good-bye, Kelsey." He closed his eyes and turned off the phone.

Jill's arms came around his waist, and he slowly wrapped her shoulders, laid his jaw against her head, playing back Kelsey's voice, her words. "I thought it might help to know I appreciate it." Jill must feel the crazy beat of his heart with her head resting against his chest. He had no idea it would affect him like this to connect with Kelsey. There was so much he'd wanted to say, but none of it had come to his mind while he had her on the phone.

I wouldn't have abandoned you, Kelsey. I wanted you and Jill and me to be a family. I just wasn't mature enough to do things right.

Jill took the phone from his hand, stepped back from his embrace, and looked up into his face. "Are you all right?"

Not by a long shot. He sucked in a breath. "How did she know you were here? With me?"

"I left this number with Cinda, who told her she could call me. She'd actually asked about talking to you in her e-mail, only I didn't get it."

"Get it now." He took her hand and brought her to the table. He wanted more.

Jill brought up her account and clicked through the messages until she came to Kelsey's. And though it might be presumptuous, he read over her shoulder.

Hi Jill, I know you're right about Josh. I don't think I would actually kiss him, even if he does come back. But I'm glad I admitted I wanted to. I have all these feelings going around inside me. It's not as easy anymore to know how to be, what to do, what to want. I know what people want for me, to be well and grow up and stay alive. But I will never have a normal life. I don't talk like this to Mom. It would break her heart. But it is the truth. I can't marry or have children. I feel so weak already, and I'm afraid of what will happen with the transplant.

Sensing Jill's distress, Morgan rested his hands on her shoulders, stroking softly with his thumbs as his own heart wrenched.

Jesus is so real right now. I sense Him every day. His love is all that keeps me going when I get so sick I can't take it. Dad said it's okay to cry. He cries with me.

Morgan's throat filled with ache. The man she called Dad, crying with his daughter. Jill reached up and touched his fingers.

I cry because I'm too sick to stop it, not because it helps. Only prayer helps. I know you're praying, too. Is Morgan?

His fingers stiffened on Jill's shoulders. He hadn't prayed for Kelsey since he thought she'd been destroyed as a fetus. He hadn't prayed at all since then.

Do you think I could talk to him? I understand Mom and Dad's point. They don't want me hurt or my energy drained. But I'd like to thank him. Before, I mean. In case I can't after the transplant. They didn't actually say no, just that they didn't think it would be good for me. So do you think I should? Hurry and tell me since it's tomorrow, you know. Love, Kelsey.

Jill drew a shaky breath. "She made up her own mind."

Morgan didn't answer. She'd sounded so cheerful. He was glad he hadn't seen this before he heard his daughter's voice. He would have known she was forcing it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Jill pressed his hand to her shoulder, stroking with her fingers. Now it was she comforting him. "She's so strong. These letters don't show it. They're her chance to let down, but inside she's ..." Her words trailed away.

"She thought I wouldn't be glad I helped."

"Only that it'll be painful for you."

He shook his head. "She has no idea."

Jill stood up and faced him. "She will, Morgan. As soon as she's strong, she'll see you. She'll make it happen, just as she did with me. You don't have to force it."

He cupped her shoulders. "I won't."

She rested a hand on his heart. "I would never have done this to you, if there was any other way."

He covered her hand with his. "It's out of our control."

She nodded. "Morgan?"

He did not like what he saw in her eyes.

"Will you pray for her?"

"I can't."

Her brows drew up painfully. "Why not?"

"It wouldn't mean anything."

Her palm on his chest was warm. "It would mean everything."