"Caring for His Child is a touching story that brought genuine tears to my eyes. Fran’s loss is every mother’s worst nightmare, and I totally understand her need to distance herself from people who stir memories too painful to handle. I cheered when she began to feel alive again, finding comfort with David, and my heart hurt when Mirry’s illness sent Fran scurrying back into her world of solitude, afraid to witness the death of another little girl. Ms. Andrews manages to incorporate a myriad of emotions in this book while reminding us all how fragile life really is. This is a read I highly recommend, but have a tissue handy."
Coffee Time Romance
On her arrival at Ashworth Bay, Fran Holloway is met by her handsome neighbour, Dr David Ross, and his young daughter Mirry. Fran longs to be close to them, but her feelings over the loss of her own little girl are still very raw.
As Fran and David get to know each other, Fran rejoices in the safety and security he offers, and finds herself falling hopelessly in love. Until Mirry is taken ill, and Fran discovers that caring for David and his child means risking her heart all over again...
David found them there in the last dying light of the day, wet and shivering.
"Fran," he whispered crouching beside her.
She heard him but his voice sounded far away and she daren't stop concentrating on the rhythm because it was the only thing keeping her together.
David felt how cold she was and Fonzie whimpered at him, obviously concerned about his mistress. "Fran," he said firmly and shook her shoulder. "Come on, we're going back to the house."
Fran turned to him then, his voice breaking into the almost hypnotic state she'd been in. "I'm cold," she said, her teeth chattering.
He picked her up in his arms and she huddled in the shelter of his warm body, absorbing his body heat gratefully. Fonzie followed them up the beach and straight into David's house. He wrapped a rug around her shoulders and sat her on a big old comfortable leather chair in front of the fireplace. He got a fire going until it roared around the room almost as loudly as the waves on the beach. Fonzie plonked himself near the hearth and promptly went to sleep.
David made her a cup of sweet milky tea and held it out for her to take. She was staring at the fire and he knew she was a dam wall ready to burst. Her fingers accepted the hot drink and he watched her wrap her chilled hands around the mug and draw it close to her chest.
She shivered and David saw her pain and grief in the slump of her shoulders and the shine of unshed tears in her blue eyes. Her hair was damp, hanging scraggily in dark, limp strips around her face.
They sat in silence for a while and drank their tea. David sat on the Persian rug on the floor beside her chair and when he’d finished his drink he put his cup on the coffee-table beside the chair.
He turned to her, sitting on his haunches in front of her. He noticed she'd barely touched her drink. "You know you can let it out, Fran. It's just me."
She shook her head from side to side, continuing her hypnotic gaze at the fire. "I can't" she whispered.
"Yes, you can," he said gently. "I don't mind."
Fran switched her gaze from the fire to his earnest face. "I'm afraid I won’t be able to stop."
Her big blue eyes were large with fear. He prised the mug away from her stiff fingers and took both of her hands in his, rubbing them gently. "Would that be such a bad thing?"
"I don’t want to feel this way again."
He nodded and brought her hands to his mouth and kissed each one gently. She was reminded of the fleeting kiss he had given her earlier today.
"I know," he said. "I know."
And Fran realised that he did know. He knew the gut wrenching depths of grief and the first flutterings of hope as you began to see your way out of it. He knew how stepping back into the dark was too frightening for words.