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as though God meant us to meet. I knew this for sure when she interviewed me for an article.”
    “So this woman you’re still thinking of, she’s only on your mind because of some story she is writing for a newspaper? Is that all that keeps you from appreciating your homecoming? I don’t have your Harvard degree, Ryan, but even I am smart enough to know that makes no sense.”
    Ryan chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose it does.”
    “So, what is it that keeps this woman . . . what is her name?”
    “Carrie,” he said. “Carrie Collins.”
    Alvaro nodded. “So what is it that keeps this Carrie Collins on your mind?”
    “I find her. . . interesting.” He added the last work in English, unsure exactly which word in Spanish would give the proper meaning. “It’s nothing, I’m sure, but I do wonder if a bit of free publicity for Heavenly Beans is why she and I crossed paths.”
    “Ah, the Lord, He will tell you if He means to,” Alvaro said.  
    “I suppose so,” Ryan said. “In the meantime, there’s always E-mail.”
    “Ah, E-mail. I suppose that will work for a time.”
    Before Ryan could respond, Alvaro pulled the truck to a stop within inches of the gate to the property and bounded out to clear their way. The squeals of children at play floated toward them, mixed with the shrill call of birds and the sound of tree limbs rustling.  
    “Like music, the sound of a happy child,” Alvaro said as he climbed back into the truck. “I pray you have many, my friend.”
    Ryan shook his head. “You know Mama’s set to marry you off first.”
    “Perhaps,” Alvaro said as he inched the truck down the shadowed lane toward the clearing, “but Mama’s no match for the Lord, even if she sometimes forgets that. What Mama wants may not be what the Father intends.”

CHAPTER SIX

    Despite her promise to the contrary, Carrie pulled up her E-mails before she began her writing day. In the past, before Ryan Baxter entered her life, she spent at least an hour working before she allowed herself the perk of checking E-mails. The self-imposed rule had served to boost her productivity considerably, especially when the temptation to “just read a few E-mails” generally gave way to hours lost in following the links to sites or chatting with friends on Instant Messenger.
    “C’mon, hurry up,” she said under her breath as she waited for her slow-as-Austin-traffic laptop to pull up her E-mail program and chug through the process of downloading new mail. While she waited she glanced at the corner of her desk where a thick stack of papers awaited her attention. At the top of the stack was her rough outline of the Heavenly Beans story along with notes she’d added last night after a lengthy E-mail from Ryan.  
    Ryan.
    Had it been just a week since she said good-bye to him at the airport? Since then she’d traded at least a dozen E-mails with him, most on the topic of Heavenly Beans and Casa de Dios . It all started with a short E-mail from Jeff asking if Carrie had any more questions for the interview.
    She came up with a whole list of queries, not that she needed the answers to any of them. It seemed rude not to respond.  
    By the next morning, her inbox contained Ryan’s responses as well as a chatty discourse on an evening spent stringing night lights to make the path safe for the elderly woman who ran the orphanage. Carrie inquired as to the purpose of this and Ryan responded with a story of a knock in the night, a fractured ankle, and a fiercely independent senior citizen who loved children.
    Carrie had laughed out loud at that one. Mama Zadora sounded like quite a character – and an excellent candidate for a follow-up article.  
    In all, they traded four E-mails that day. By the time she went to bed that night, guilt had all but caused her to put a stop to their correspondence. After all, how could a man with a nefarious purpose seem so kind?  
    Ryan loved old ladies, children, and the Lord. Any other man would