A Mother's Love Read Online Free PDF

lunch for us.”
    â€œAmanda,” Kyra said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHer name is Amanda.”
    He inclined his head. “Yes. My apologies. Let’s go see your daughter, Amanda.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    â€œC AN WE STOP IN THE church before we go back?” Kyra asked, pausing in front of the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the graveyard.
    Dylan pushed away the dread in his chest. “It would be best to get back. My mother will be cooking—and she isn’t pleased with all of this anyway.”
    â€œHow do I win her approval?” Kyra asked.
    It was startling in its directness, startling enough he stopped. She paused with him, the long black curls blowing on the barely visible breeze, as if the earth itself had a vested interest in making her look as attractive as possible. In the hazy gold light breaking through the day’s mist, he saw a sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose and scattered on her chest. He told himself he liked bustier women, but something about the freckles made him want to see what she would look like without her shirt, without the bra he knew by the way her breasts moved was nothing much but a stretchy athletic scrap.
    Stop, he told himself and took a breath. “Well, I’m not sure you can. She’s made up her mind that you’re full of fluff and nonsense and never will care for a baby as well as she could.”
    â€œBut—I’m hardly a frivolous person! I have a business of my own. Africa and I have made a fortune, and I’ll safeguard Amanda’s portion with my life.”
    In the sunlight her eyes were the color of new ferns. “I know,” he said. “You asked for the truth and I’m giving it to you. She’s old-fashioned and protective. And she loved my best friend Thomas from the time he was a very small boy. Amanda is all there is of him.”
    She made a face. “It doesn’t help that I made such a mess of things yesterday. I really don’t have any experience with babies.”
    â€œYou’ll learn.”
    â€œI hope so.”
    In the car he asked, “How did a girl named Amanda become nicknamed Africa?”
    Kyra chuckled. “Causes. She was always raising money for causes of various kinds, carrying her coffee can all over campus, soliciting for orphans or Africa or something. A friend of ours started calling her Africa and it stuck.” Kyra shook her head, smiling faintly. “She was the biggest geek you could possibly imagine—so skinny she had knobs for elbows and knees, and long stringy hair. And her causes.” She touched her throat. Took a breath. “Always her causes.”
    He saw her wipe a tear away surreptitiously. “And you? What were you like?”
    â€œEven worse.” Kyra laughed. “I was a math major. A girl with a slide rule. We were matched up as roommates because we both loved classical music.”
    He laughed appreciatively. “Well, you’ve grown up very nicely.”
    â€œThanks.”
    He drove them to the cottage, which sat in its little spot in the open, where sea winds buffeted the roses and the lavender and the tomatoes in his mother’s garden and stormscrashed over the craggy cliffs behind. It was a hard landscape, one that needed a strong nature.
    Kyra visibly braced herself as they headed up the walk, and he caught her arm impulsively. “Live through this and I’ll see to it that you have a little joy tonight.”
    She inclined her head quizzically. “How so?”
    â€œI fiddle in the local pub.” He winked. “The singer’s a strapping lad—the women all love him.”
    One heavy, dark brow lifted. “I won’t.”
    â€œWon’t you?”
    â€œI dislike men who are that popular.” She stepped on the stoop and waited for him to open the door, hands folded in an oddly prim way before her.
    â€œRelax, my lovely,” he said with a grin.
    â€œOh, sure. No