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Chapter One| Chapter Two | Chapter Three

A part of himself was missing.

Lost in thought, Quinn McAllister guided his black Probe down the two lane highway flanked by Kansas farmland. Another twenty miles to Fort Riley. Dusk deepened by slow degrees on this June evening, bathing the sky in soft shades of lavender and mauve. The peacefulness of the passing scene could have been a balm to his aching heart, but he barely noticed anything beyond the ribbon of blacktop winding through the wheat and corn fields.

Memories flooded his mind. Steve Dutton... Football on the Boys Town High School team, puckish pranks they'd played on their Family-Teachers, the rigors of Army basic training. Then the separations, which somehow had only strengthened their bond. He blinked to ease the burning in his eyes. He wouldn't, couldn't, cry. Once he started he wasn't sure he could stop, and he had to see the road. He must reach the children safely. He was all they had now.

Meredith had offered to drive. She would've taken over and done everything to get them to Fort Riley if he'd let her, but Quinn needed to keep busy. Bad enough having all this time to think. If he were sitting in the passenger seat with nothing to do with his hands for over three hours, he'd go stark raving mad.

It seemed like weeks rather than hours since he'd awakened this morning snuggled next to his beautiful bride. He stole a glance at her dozing in the seat next to him, her head resting on the window.

It had been an endless day. Before leaving their honeymoon retreat in Colorado, he had contacted the authorities at Fort Riley by telephone and relayed their travel plans. He and Meredith then flew into Omaha and took a taxi straight to their apartment to pick up the car and clean clothes. Two and a half hours after touchdown at Eppley Airfield, they headed south.

Quinn wasn't sure how he'd make it through the next few days, but he knew he must. He cast another glance at his wife of five days. At least he wasn't alone. So far, Meredith proved a tower of strength. He needed her support. There were funeral arrangements to make and the kids to see about.

The kids. Something tore and bled deep inside him. How could he have gotten himself in such a mess? Two pledges, both given in good faith.... To keep either, he must break the other. And yet, what choice did he really have?

Could their marriage survive the upheaval in their carefully made plans? Would Meredith accept the inevitable changes? He shook his head. Time enough to deal with that later. Right now he had more immediate problems to consider.

The post gate loomed before him. Like most US Army installations, Fort Riley was an open post, the gate unmanned except on rare occasions. Quinn drove through, heading for Steve's assigned quarters in one of the housing areas. He'd learned that the couple who shared their duplex were caring for Brett, Wynne and Brittany.

He parked in the Dutton's driveway and touched Meredith's arm. "Honey, we're here."

Meredith sat up with a start and rolled her shoulders. Guilt surged through her. A whole lot of help she'd been, sacked out. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. Why didn't you wake me?"

"No problem. You needed the rest."

She couldn't deny his statement. Their lovemaking had lasted well into the early morning hours--again.

"Let's go," Quinn said.

He swung out of the car and straightened his spine, as if preparing himself for the ordeal ahead. Accustomed to decisive action, Meredith hated feeling so helpless. There must be something she could do to make things easier for Quinn. But what? When it came to the military, she didn't have the least idea how to proceed.

She rounded the car and grasped his hand, giving him the only thing she had to give, her love and emotional support. They crossed the lawn, heading for the opposite side of the duplex. Before they reached the porch the door opened, the void filled with a tall, wiry man black man.

"Quinn McAllister?" The man pushed the screen open. "Come in. I'm Joe Jamison."

Quinn placed his hand on the small of Meredith's back, indicating for her to precede him into the house. "Joe," he acknowledged. "This is my wife, Meredith."

"How do you do," Meredith murmured.

A pretty woman with a short Afro hair cut and cafe au lait skin entered the living room from the hallway. Her red-rimmed eyes expressed her grief before she said a word. "They're all asleep."

"Hon," Joe said, "Quinn and Meredith are here." He turned to his guests. "My wife, Anita."

Anita flashed a fleeting smile. "I'm so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances." She directed her gaze to Quinn. "I know how close you and Steve were."

"I appreciate your keeping the kids," Quinn said. "How are they?"

"Brett and Wynne are bewildered. The baby's cranky. Patti was nursing." Anita slid onto the arm of Joe's chair. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, iced tea, a beer?"

"No, thanks," Quinn replied. He turned to Meredith.

"Nothing for me, either."

"The SAO told me Patti's father is flying in from Alabama tomorrow," Joe said.

"What's the SAO?" Meredith asked.

"The survivor's assistance officer. That's the person assigned to help with the arrangements."

"Oh."

"Do you know when to expect Patti's dad?" Quinn asked.

"Early afternoon, but I don't know the exact time," Joe answered.

Exhausted despite her nap in the car, Meredith scooted back on the couch cushion, easing her tired shoulders into the softness. She experienced an odd detachment. Here she was, sitting in a stranger's home, talking about people she barely knew. Although filled with a certain sadness since they'd been awakened by the chaplain, doctor and officer who'd notified them of Steve's and Patti's death's, she was devoid of the profound grief evident in the others. Mainly, she hurt for Quinn.

She worried about him. From the moment he'd snapped out of his initial shock, he'd said little, but kept working, doing everything necessary to get here. Even on the flight to Omaha, he'd scrawled notes about the funeral. How long could he continue to push himself before he fell apart? Aside from herself, Steve had been dearer to Quinn than anyone.

She still didn't understand how Quinn, a close friend, was considered next of kin. Obviously, the designation was official and carried some responsibility. At least Patti's father was on the way to help with the arrangements and to take over the children.

"...you're sure the kids can stay?" Quinn said when she turned her attention back to the conversation.

"It'll be less unsettling if they remain here," Anita said. "This is familiar territory. Our children play together all the time. It's the least we can do."

"Okay. I guess we'd better go."

"You can bunk next door," Joe said. "I've got the key."

"Patti's family should stay there. I made a reservation at the VOQ." Quinn turned to Meredith. "Visiting Officers Quarters."

"Then we'll see you tomorrow?"

"First thing. I want Brett and Wynne to know I'm here for them."

* * *

The next morning Anita met Meredith and Quinn at the door cradling Brittany in her arms. The baby's distraught screaming tore at Meredith's heart. Poor little thing. She missed her mommy.

"Let me take her," Quinn offered. "Maybe I can calm her down."

"She isn't happy with a bottle," Anita said, handing the infant to him. "I called the post hospital. They assured me she'd take it when she got hungry enough."

"Poor baby," Quinn soothed, holding the tiny girl against his chest and patting her on the back. He settled into an overstuffed chair. "I know things aren't right, but we're going to take care of you. Don't you worry."

Meredith marveled that at the sound of his low voice Brittany's screams lessened. He continued talking until her screams were reduced to hiccups. The almost bald infant leaned her head back and watched his face, entranced. Meredith wondered why she was surprised. His voice, deep and resonate, always induced a spine-tingling current on her own senses. Any female, even one so small, would appreciate the beauty of his lyrical baritone, especially when he spoke to her and her alone.

A door at the back of the house slammed and feet pounded on the tile floor. In seconds Brett barreled into the room and hurled himself at Quinn, locking his pencil-thin arms around Quinn's shoulders. The boy's chin quivered and a fat tear fell from a blue eye and rolled down his cheek. "My daddy and mommy died, Quinn."

Quinn reached around with his free arm and pulled the tow-headed boy onto his knee. "I know, ace, I know."

"I don't have no daddy and mommy no more."

He nestled the distressed child into the crook of his arm. "You still have me, Brett. You still have me."

Meredith heard the reassurance and quailed. What was Quinn saying? He couldn't be thinking clearly. Soon they'd return to Omaha and Brett and his sisters would go to Alabama with their grandfather. She expected Quinn would maintain an interest in Steve's children, but at such a distance telling a child he still had his father's friend seemed unwise. However, she knew better than to make things worse by saying so in front of the boy. As soon as they were alone, she'd mention it to Quinn.

At that moment, Wynne sidled in from the hall, her thumb in her mouth, dragging a tattered blanket behind her. Another blond, her wispy curls framed a sweet face dominated by huge blue eyes. She spotted Quinn and scampered straight for him. He scooched Brittany higher on his shoulder, making a place for Wynne on his unoccupied knee. She climbed on his lap and snuggled into his stomach.

What a wonderful father he'd make. Meredith's thought was bleak. Never before having observed him with children at close range, she was taken aback. Guilt surged through her. They hadn't known each other but six months. It was plenty long enough for them to fall deeply in love, but they hadn't really explored each others hopes and dreams to any great extent. She was committed to remaining childless. It never occurred to her that she might deprive a natural father of the family he should have. Well, it was too late to undo the damage now.

They were already married.

She made a silent vow. Their relationship would be so wonderful he wouldn't miss having children, or she'd die trying. She couldn't bear the thought that he might come to regret his promise or their marriage.

* * *

The afternoon sun blazed in the front window of the Dutton's quarters. Meredith closed the drapes, blocking out the hot rays. At the far end of the L- shaped room, Quinn, Patti's father, John Carter, the SAO and a post chaplain sat around the dining table planning the funeral service.

Mr. Carter was a frail man, who looked far older than his years. His hands were gnarled with arthritis. He leaned heavily on his cane, his gait slow and, obvious to even a casual observer, painful. His wife, stricken with Alzheimer's disease, was at home, unable to make the trip. Meredith sighed. How in the world would the infirm couple manage three preschoolers?

She gazed around the room. The furniture showed signs of hard use and many moves. A Kool-Aid stain here, a loose thread there, scratches on the wood. The place was clean, but toys were scattered about. Having grown up in such crowded quarters that anything left out of place was a hazard, the clutter bothered Meredith. Before she could stop herself, she picked up the strewn blocks and tossed them into a laundry basket already half full of toys.

A chair scraped against the tile floor, and Meredith realized the meeting was over. She accompanied Quinn to the door, and they said good-bye to the SAO and chaplain.

"The service is tomorrow at eleven," Quinn said, turning to Meredith. "Would you find something appropriate for Brett and Wynne to wear?"

"You aren't planning on taking them to the funeral, are you?" Horror crept into her words.

"Certainly."

"But...but, they're too young!"

"Honey, they need to say good-bye to their parents."

"I agree with Quinn," John Carter said. "They should attend. The ceremony will help them understand that...Patti and Steve...aren't coming back."

Meredith looked from one man to the other and shook her head. They were both definite in their opinion. Who was she to argue? "All right, I'll find their clothes."

* * *

Meredith sat next to Quinn in the family pew holding Wynne on her lap. The main chapel at Fort Riley was filled, a sea of green uniforms with occasional dots of color from civilian dress. Masses of flowers surrounded two caskets, one draped with an American flag, the other covered with a purple brocade pall. Quinn, although a Reservist and not on active duty, wore his Army uniform: dark green coat and pants, light green shirt and black tie. His brass and shoes gleamed. His shoulders straight, his pale face etched with grief, he perched on the edge of the pew.

She turned her gaze on Mr. Carter. His face, gray with pain, revealed both his emotional and physical suffering. Brett, clad in the blue suit he'd worn to her wedding, his miniature tie askew, slouched in his seat, wedged between Quinn and his grandfather. The little boy patted John's arm, offering comfort. Undone by the sweet gesture, a tear escaped the corner of Meredith's eye.

Following the opening hymn, Quinn rose, his steps to the lectern slow and measured. Standing tall, he adjusted the microphone to accommodate his six feet plus height. He gazed out over the congregation before speaking. "Steve Dutton's faith was forged as a teenager at Boys Town and strengthened through the rest of his life. I'm reading today from his favorite passages of scripture."

Lulled by the reassuring sound of Quinn's voice, Meredith tried to imagine Steve's life before Boys Town and the metamorphosis the institution's program had wrought. His life -- and Quinn's -- had been forever changed by the love and respect offered at the school.

Quinn read on, his voice strong and sure, comforting the mourners. Meredith only hoped he was drawing comfort to himself as well.

He closed the Bible and resumed his seat. Meredith reached for his hand and knew the instant their fingers touched that he wasn't as untouched as his strong voice portrayed. His clammy cold hand trembled. She admired his courage. To put aside his grief and take part in the service...she didn't have the inner strength to pull it off.

Throughout the eulogies and meditation Wynne whimpered and wiggled on her lap. Poor kid, this service must seem interminable to her.

The organist began the last hymn. The message offered hope and promised victory in eternal life. Moved once again, tears poured from Meredith's eyes. She cradled Wynne to her breast, drawing as much consolation as she gave. The little girl, smelling of the magical combination of floral soap and baby shampoo, wound her arms around Meredith's neck, burying her face in Meredith's shoulder. Her hold on Wynne tightened. At the same time she reinforced her resolve to maintain her distance. It would be far too easy to become attached to this little one. That must not happen.

The solemn service ended and the pall bearers, twelve soldiers from Steve's Military Police Company, escorted the caskets down the aisle. Meredith followed carrying Wynne. Brett clung to Quinn's hand, John to Quinn's other arm.

On the ride back to the chapel following the committal service, Brett and Wynne were restless and fussy. Anita had reported that both woke up crying with nightmares the night before. The tykes must be tired, as well as scared, confused and Meredith imagined hungry. They needed kid food, not the casseroles supplied by generous friends for the traditional post-funeral gathering.

"Quinn, the children need naps," she whispered as they stepped out of the limousine. "I know you can't leave yet, but I'll slip away and take them home."

He nodded and reached in his pocket for his car keys. "Good idea. I'm sure John and I can hitch a ride with Joe and Anita." He patted her shoulder, his ghost of a smile grateful. "Thanks, honey."

* * *

"What're you going to do about their household goods?" Anita asked.

"We'll have to sell most everything, or give it away," John replied. "We don't have room for anything more in our retirement apartment. What do you think, Quinn?"

"I'll need the kid's stuff including their bedroom furniture."

In the Dutton's kitchen pouring iced tea, Meredith overheard Quinn's answer. She spun around so fast, she bumped her head on the open cabinet door. Why would he need the kid's stuff? Unless he planned to take them home with them. Surely she'd misunderstood. The children were John's responsibility. He was their grandfather, their blood kin.

"I'm sure the adjustment will be easier all around if the kids have familiar things," Anita agreed.

"New furniture would cost a lot more than I have to spare." Quinn sounded matter of fact. Still bewildered, Meredith concurred with his assessment.

Their upscale apartment, a converted Old Market warehouse, was located in downtown Omaha. They'd kept little of the make-do furniture from their separate places. The new furnishings had cost a small fortune. Their budget couldn't stand the strain of further major expenditure at the moment.

"I hope you'll allow me to come visit my grandchildren, Quinn."

A condensation-slick glass slipped through Meredith's fingers and shattered on the floor. Stunned, she stared at the mess without seeing it. Clearly, John expected them to take the children. And just as clearly, it sounded like Quinn had every intention of doing so.

Pain swelled inside her, spreading so hard and fast that she couldn't say what hurt precisely. Only one thing was clear in her mind. She could not mother children -- her own or anyone else's. Her experience with Kirsty proved Meredith was an unfit mother.

"You okay? I heard a crash." She blinked at the sound of Quinn's voice, the broken glass registering at last.

"I dropped a glass. Take the rest. I'll clean up the mess and join you in a minute." She reached for a paper towel. "Ah...Quinn, we need to talk."

"Shoot."

"Alone."

He raised a quizzical brow.

"Alone," she repeated.

* * *

Meredith entered their VOQ room and waited while Quinn slid the chain lock into place. He swung around, facing her. "All right, what's this about?" he said, concern evident in his gray eyes.

"I heard what you all said this afternoon."

"And?"

"Tell me I heard wrong. You aren't really planning to take those children to Omaha."

His face reddened. There was nothing wrong with her hearing. Meredith's stomach clenched in a painful knot.

"Of course, I am. How can I raise them, if they don't live with me?" His voice rose and his color deepened.

"They're John's grandchildren, his responsibility."

"They are my responsibility." His statement emphasized each word, leaving her no doubt that he meant what he said.

"How can that be?"

"I'm their legal guardian. Steve named me in his will."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"Because I promised years ago, a promise I confirmed before Brett was born. Steve doesn't have an extended family and neither do I." He stopped and drew a deep breath. Meredith stared at his stone face, each word he uttered increasing her pain. Was this the man she'd married? "We pledged we'd raise each other's kids if anything happened to either of us. He couldn't bear the thought of his kids going to a stranger. Neither can I."

"But Patti has family."

"Be honest. Do you think John is capable of caring for three children, ages five, three and six months? There's no way he can chase after them. Patti's mom is so far gone with Alzheimer's she isn't even aware her daughter's dead. John has his hands full taking care of her and himself."

Meredith's knees turned to jelly. She sank onto the bed and dropped her head into her hands. The room was so quiet the air conditioning blowing through the vents sounded like the whine of jet engines revved for takeoff. What Quinn said was true. Guilt devoured her. Silently, she raised her head. His tormented expression rent the fabric of her soul. What could she say?

Darn it. He'd promised. She just didn't understand.

He dropped into the room's only chair. "I was raised by my grandmother until she died. It was hard on both of us. I loved her dearly. I never doubted she loved me, but she was too old to cope with a rowdy boy. I drove her crazy. Especially in the winter when I couldn't play outside. She'd accuse me of bouncing off the walls."

"Being younger doesn't preclude any of that," Meredith replied. "Every parent I know complains about their children driving them crazy."

"I'm sure we'll have more patience. And the stamina to contend with the kids."

She sprang to her feet and paced to the window, parting the drapes just enough to gaze out at the parking lot. Her thoughts churned. She hated to sound selfish, especially when her position was in reality the exact opposite. But in order for him to form any other opinion, she'd have to tell him about Kirsty. She couldn't do that. He must never know her one dreadful secret. Someday, she prayed, Quinn would forgive her. She gulped and squared her shoulders. Spinning around, she planted her feet in a militant stance, and hardened her expression. "You promised we wouldn't have children before I accepted your ring."

"This is different."

"How?" She tossed her hair from her cheek. "Tell me how?"

"Brittany, Wynne and Brett aren't our own."

Refusing to back down, Meredith didn't move so much as an eyelash. He squirmed under her unflinching stare.

"I didn't plan this, you know." He plowed his hand through his otter-brown hair.

"Don't you think you should have warned me about this...this promise?"

"It never crossed my mind."

"You made a commitment that will change our whole lives, and it never crossed your mind to clue me in?" Her voice shook.

Quinn stared at the ceiling, then met her gaze. "I didn't expect Steve to die. We're not at war. Supposedly, he wasn't in harm's way. How could I have predicted a drunk would mow them both down on a street corner?" His voice cracked. He stopped and raked his fingers through his hair again. "I never dreamed I'd actually have to raise his kids. If I thought about it at all, I assumed that I'd lend Patti moral support and maybe a little financial aid if Steve died."

Desperation drove Meredith. "You could put them up for adoption."

In all honesty, she hated the thought of those precious children going to strangers. Still, she couldn't bear to tell him the real truth about herself. After seeing how good he was with them, he'd never understand her flaw.

"No!" Quinn shouted. He catapulted from his chair, startling her. "I promised I'd raise them, and by God I will. I gave my word."

"You gave me your word, too. Doesn't that count?"

Quinn crossed to the window and placed both hands on her shoulders. His fingers dug deep into her flesh. "Honey," his tone softened, "please try to understand. Steve was raised by a druggie without a father. He was a punk into petty crime by the time he was nine. Boys Town turned him around. He was determined his children wouldn't become juvenile delinquents. He trusted me to make sure they'd be okay, to see that they grow up to be fine upstanding citizens.

"I owe Steve. I arrived at Boys Town a three time loser in foster homes. A runaway, who lived by his wits. The judge who placed me at the Home put the fear of God in me. It was my last chance and I knew it, but I couldn't accept the love offered. Steve had already been there a good six months. He took me under his wing, became my pal. Without Steve's friendship and protection, God knows where I'd be today."

"That's all well and good but what about us?" she whispered.

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, then enfolded her in his arms. "We can make it work. I know this isn't what we planned, but everything will be okay if we try hard enough."

Meredith pulled away, frustration seething inside her. He was so focused on what he wanted, he hadn't heard a word she said. She marched to the chair Quinn had vacated moments before. "I don't want a family. You knew that going into this marriage. You aren't being fair."

She sounded like a petulant child and she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Part of being an adult is understanding that life isn't always fair."

"Are you calling me a child?"

"If the shoe fits." Quinn sighed. "Look, let's not resort to name calling. I just don't understand where you're coming from."

"I made my position clear earlier," she said, stressing each word.

"Yes, you did. But Steve's and Patti's deaths change everything." He slumped on the foot of the bed. "There's no way I will allow those innocent children to end up in the court system like Steve and I did. In the long run we were lucky, but the years before Boys Town were tough. The Dutton kids won't have to endure what we did as long as I have breath in my body."

"Remember the part of the marriage service that says forsaking all others?" she pleaded.

"Meredith, that's a low blow. This is not a case of you against them. I want us to become a family. It's not like I'm asking you to have my child. I promised I wouldn't demand that of you and I won't."

"But you expect me to play mother to someone else's children," she retorted.

"What do want me to do? Walk away and leave them to their fate, whatever that might be?" He rose and strode to her chair, towering over her. Shoulders back, chest out, he stood as straight and tall as the commanding officer he was. She cringed under his steely gaze.

"Please, Quinn," she begged. "Don't do this to me. To us."

"Meredith, honey," his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit and his expression softened, "I love you with all my heart. I want us to be together always. You're a strong, talented woman. You have the resources to take care of yourself." He hunkered in front of her and took her icy hands in his. "Brett, Wynne and Brittany can't take care of themselves. Please, darling, don't make me choose between them and you."

He paused and sucked in a deep breath. "If you force me to choose, I have no choice..."

Chapter Two

Oh, God! What have I done?

The door latch's solid click still echoed in Quinn's head minutes after Meredith left the room. She was gone. Where, he didn't know. His heart pounded a drum beat of doom.

He collapsed on the bed and stared at the door, willing the portal to open. If he lost her, what would he do? Meredith was his life. He couldn't go on without her.

What other option did he have? None. Absolutely none. He couldn't violate Steve's sacred trust. Besides, he loved those kids as if they were his own. Cognizant of the pitfalls of foster care from his own miserable experience, it would kill him to see those precious tykes mired in the system. And while he had no problem with the concept of adoption, he wasn't about to shirk the obligation he'd accepted so long ago.

Meredith had thrown their marriage vows in his face. It had taken all his resolve to keep from tossing the "for better, for worse" part right back at her. Although justified, his profound guilt overshadowed his anger.

His wife didn't want children. She'd gone to great lengths to make certain he understood her position on the issue before she accepted his ring, as she had pointed out so heatedly. She was right. He had pledged to remain childless.

Just as he had pledged to Steve to raise his kids.

His eyes burned with unshed tears. His muscles ached with mounting tension. He rolled over seeking relief and found none.

What it all boiled down to was, despite his pledge to her, the kids needed him more than Meredith did. But did she need him as much as he needed her? Quinn rolled to his feet and strode to the window. Everything hung on her decision.

* * *

Twilight gathered, turning the summer sky a deep indigo. Fireflies flickered and mosquitoes buzzed around her ear. Meredith marched on, swatting at the insects, unaware of doing so. Cars whizzed by, but from the safety of the parade ground, she paid no attention.

As if caught in the middle of a horrible nightmare, she sought an avenue of escape. At every turn, a stone wall loomed. How could this have happened to her? Married a week and a day and she faced losing the only man she'd ever wanted. All because of some stupid promise Quinn had made when he was little more than a teenager. A promise he, by his own admission, had never expected to have to keep.

Meredith shook her head, admonishing herself. His expectations weren't the issue here. Quinn had promised his friend, not once but twice, and he fully intended to honor his commitment. He'd made his position crystal clear.

The decision was hers.

Relinquish the emotional support he gave unstintingly? He, unlike every other man she'd dated, wasn't in competition with her. He never put down her ambition. In fact, he understood her driving need to succeed and encouraged her.

Quinn teased her, made her laugh like no one else. Give up seeing his dimples dance and his pewter eyes glint with mischief? A lump rose in her throat. Oh, dear lord...

She could walk away from their first serious test as a couple. Or she could stand by his side and help him shoulder the enormous responsibility he aimed to undertake. She kicked a small stone out of her path, wishing she could kick away the problem as easily. Her choices were lousy. Stay and put the children at risk from a carping pseudo-mom, or live the rest of her life regretting her cowardice.

She stopped and stared at the stars popping out in the night sky. Coward, an ugly name, and one she'd never before in all her introspective moments applied to herself. Yet, what else was she when she looked at the situation honestly? Running away went against her personal code. She'd attained success against tremendous odds, had escaped poverty and sought higher moral standards than she learned at home. Cowering wasn't her style.

Still, she was scared -- make that downright terrified -- that she'd damage the children's psyches by screaming hurtful words at them.

The specter of Kirsty loomed before Meredith. She'd driven the girl from their home by pitching a walleyed fit when she discovered the sixteen-year-old drinking and in a sexual relationship with a guy just like the creeps their mother brought home. The terrible names Meredith called her sister haunted her to this day. Stupid slut. Dumber than dirt. Irresponsible idiot. No wonder Kirsty had fled. Meredith had no excuse for such vile behavior. None! She'd been the adult in the situation, albeit all of twenty-two. A mature, responsible twenty-two, whose one irresponsible act had resulted in another runaway on the streets.

A new wave of grief assailed her. Meredith hung her head. Would she ever see her little sister again?

Forcing her thoughts back to her current quandry, she acknowledged she wasn't a screamer or belittler by nature; she didn't yell or demean to gain control over the large section she supervised at work. Actually, she had a reputation for fairness in problem solving. Maybe there was hope.

Candor compelled her to admit Quinn's choice bruised her ego. Without a doubt, he loved her. He'd proved it over and over, especially in the last week. Still, he meant to move those children to Omaha and nothing she could say would stop him.

When she viewed the situation from his perspective, she understood his reasoning. Given his background and integrity, he didn't have another option. Even she could see that.

She'd orbited the parade ground, her thoughts making a full circle. She stopped and studied the American flag, unfurled in the gentle breeze and illuminated by flood lights. What to do, what to do?

These colors don't run. The slogan from the Gulf War era sprang into her thoughts. Meredith knew she couldn't live with herself if she fled without a fight. She must talk to Quinn. She wanted more than anything to stay with him, to remain his wife. Simply, she loved him too much to walk away. But, she wasn't mother material and she wouldn't pretend -- even for Quinn. She absolutely could not. There must be room for compromise here.

She trudged on, wrestling with her dilemma. She weighed and discarded options for an hour until her head ached as much as her feet.

In all that time only one even halfway viable solution came to mind. If she could keep the children at arms length, she figured everything would be okay. She'd pull her weight as -- she never thought she'd see herself in this particular role -- the family housekeeper. Her idea was far from perfect; it wouldn't take a raw recruit to shoot it full of holes. But remaining aloof was the best answer she found.

Serving as the maid was far better than the alternative: giving up the man she'd looked so hard to find, the man she needed, the man she loved.

* * *

Meredith tapped on the VOQ door. Apprehension filled her. Quinn released the lock so fast he must've stood there the whole time she was gone. "You're back," he said, relocking the door.

"Yes." Burdened by despair, Meredith crossed the threshold, her shoulders hunched.

"Nice walk?"

"Yes. It's pleasant out now." She reached down and clawed a mosquito bite, belying her assertion. She couldn't bring herself to address the issue weighing on her like an anchor.

Steps ponderous, she walked to the bed. She opened her mouth and closed it. She dropped to the mattress. Her clasped hands fell between her thighs.

"You're leaving," he said. His words were stark, his tone filled with pain.

She hung her head, guilt a heavy mantle on her shoulders. "No. Not yet anyway."

The taut muscles in his face relaxed. His shoulders sagged. He swallowed hard. "You'd better explain."

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't be a substitute mother for the children, Quinn. I can't! At the same time, I can't bear to lose you and what we have together. I've mulled everything over and come up with a compromise. If...if you're agreeable."

"I'm listening," he said, sinking into the chair as if his legs wouldn't hold him any longer.

"Well..." Jumping up, she sucked in another deep breath, and strode to the window. "With both of us working, we'll have to share the responsibility for the children. I'll do the scut work--"

"Scut work?"

"The laundry and cleaning -- even the cooking -- if you'll handle the nurturing part. In other words, I'll do my share as housekeeper and you'll be their parent."

"And when I'm not there?"

Meredith glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Not there?"

"Have you forgotten my Reserve commitment? Monthly drills, two weeks active duty. I can't promise I'll always be there when the kids need me."

She paced back to the bed and sagged into the pillows propped against the headboard. "Are you saying this won't work?"

"No. I'm saying I can't let you off the hook entirely. We can limit your 'mommy' time as much as possible but I won't always be home. If you can see your way clear to take over on those times when I can't be there, then I think your idea has merit."

She faced him, her shoulders slumped, sadness permeating her soul. "I'd forgotten about your weekend duty."

"We have to take my drills into account. You'd be ticked if I trotted off one Saturday morning and left you with the kids when you weren't prepared."

Meredith grimaced. Yes, she'd be more than ticked. She suspected she'd feel betrayed, ready to wring his neck. He'd shown a great deal of honor by bringing up the obstacle now. She couldn't help but admire him. It would've been easy for him to leap at her solution without pointing out its flaws. She owed him the same honesty.

"I'm not sure I can handle them without you there."

"I don't understand. I've watched you the last couple of days. You like those kids."

Oh, yes, she liked them -- too well. Leave it to Quinn to notice the one thing she didn't want to reveal.

Her gaze zeroed in on his wide shoulders. She wanted to bury her head against his strength and forget the last few days. She grasped a fistful of the bedspread, fighting a wave of helplessness. She must find a way...

Silence languished between them. She searched for a plausible explanation. Everything she came up with sounded lame, yet she couldn't tell him the truth. To watch the love in his eyes die would kill her. She realized she'd backed herself into a corner. "Ah...they're great children. It's just that I'm inexperienced."

"Honey, most people are inexperienced when they first become parents. I know you're a perfectionist. Believe me, the kids don't expect perfection. All they need is acceptance and love, and a decent home."

"Yes, but most people don't have three children thrust on them all at once. They get to practice on a single baby who doesn't know mastery from a mistake."

He stood up and turned toward the door. Her hand flew to her chest. Her heart still pounded. She gave up searching for excuses. "All right. Let's give this family thing a try. We can reassess if it doesn't work."

"Thank you, Marigold," he said, his voice husky. "I'll shoulder as much of the responsibility as I can, I promise."

Quinn McAllister was an honorable man. Meredith knew his word was his bond. She could, and did, trust him. She banked her fear, determined to make an honest effort to make the situation work, grateful that for once in her life she didn't have to face a difficult task alone. Smiling for the first time in hours, she stretched her hand toward him.

Relief visible on his face, Quinn lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. In two quick steps, he moved to the bed. He flopped on the mattress beside her and tucked her into the tight circle of his arms

"Now that we've decided that we're in this together," he said, "we'd better figure out the logistics."

"I really have to get back to work."

"John plans to stay a few more days and help me sort through the house. I called Jenkins and extended my leave until Monday."

"The children will need day care."

"I'll look into hiring a nanny."

"That's a generous thought, Quinn, but not very feasible. Even I know they need to play with other children. They'll be pretty much isolated in the apartment. If they go to day care, they can make special friends."

"Hmm. You have a point."

"And we'll need to rearrange the apartment." A note of distress crept into her voice despite her effort to contain it. Her safe haven would never be the same.

He pulled her closer to him. "This isn't easy for you."

"No, it isn't. But it has to be done. I'll take care of the arrangements at home this week while you do your thing down here. I'll come back Friday night after work."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Scut work, remember?"

Meredith glanced at the alarm clock on the table beside them. "It's only 10 o'clock. If I leave now, I can make it home in time to grab a nap before work in the morning."

"I'd rather you got up early and drove in the daylight." His fingers, roving under her shirt, gave their own rationale for her staying the night. "You might be a little late, but not much."

"I am too tired to drive now," she admitted.

"But not too tired?" he said, his voice ripe with hope.

She twisted in his arms and, mimicking his action, ran her hand over his chest. Her lips sought his. "Not too tired," she breathed against his mouth.

* * *

In the early morning half-light, Quinn leaned inside the open car window and dropped one last good-bye kiss on Meredith's full lips. "Drive carefully. And call me when you get home."

"I will. See you Friday night." She slipped the gear shift into reverse and backed out of the Dutton's driveway.

Watching the Probe's taillights disappear, the full weight of the burden he'd undertaken descended on his shoulders.

At least he faced the future with his partner at his side. Their compromise wasn't the solution he wanted, but it was better than he'd dare to hope. Parenting was daunting in itself, single-parenting even more so. And he was caught in the uncharted territory somewhere in-between. While he could count on her to make his task easier by undertaking the essential chores, he understood that she meant to keep her interaction with the kids to the bare minimum. At least she'd agreed to stay, a concession he didn't deserve.

A plaintive cry broke the silence. Britanny was awake, wet and hungry. His new life had begun.

* * *

Meredith placed her hand on the small of her back and leaned backwards, stretching her aching muscles. She pointed to the corner of the master bedroom by the closet. "The desk goes there."

Two strapping men, friends of Quinn's from work, hoisted the heavy oak desk and carried it from the second bedroom. "That it?" one of the men questioned.

"Yes, thanks. I don't know how I would've managed without you guys."

"Tell Quinn to give a holler if he needs help when he gets back."

She escorted the men to the door. "I will. Thanks again."

Meredith slipped the chain lock into place and wandered into the living room. The entertainment center crowded the furniture arrangement. She gazed at the brand new white damask couch and black lacquer, mirror-topped coffee table. Not a practical choice for a home with children. Well, it couldn't be helped.

She stepped into the bare room that they'd planned as a den and winced. There wasn't enough space here for all three children.

Leaning against the door frame, she surveyed the apartment they'd splurged to rent. Their corner location provided a wonderful view of the Heartland of America Park with a glimpse of the Missouri River beyond from their bedroom. Looking out the living room and den -- no, the children's room, she reminded herself -- the Gene Leahy Mall with its lagoon and swans stretched westward.

The Old Market area of downtown Omaha was a vibrant part of the community. Just strolling the sidewalks, she sensed the vitality. Living here gave her a feeling of having arrived. This was a great place for a couple. They were close enough to walk to work in nice weather and not work up a sweat. But for kids... At least there were open spaces where they could romp, but neighborhood playmates would be in short supply.

She glanced into the bedroom again. It would accommodate two twin beds and a chest of drawers just fine. She could even squeeze in the changing table, but where could she put Brittany's crib?

She walked across the living room and into the bedroom she shared with Quinn. The desk and computer, along with the file cabinet, were jammed into the corner by the closet. The crib could go under the window, but would there be enough space to walk between the crib and their bed? Shaking her head, she refused to think about how that arrangement would cramp their style.

She shrugged. She'd done her part by rearranging her carefully planned home. Quinn could wrestle with making the children's belongings fit.

* * *

After a fitful night, Meredith welcomed the obnoxious blare of her alarm clock on Friday morning. The big bed was lonely without Quinn. She missed his warm body snuggled against her. Funny how some things became ingrained habits in a short time.

Doubts plagued her. Could she pull off this family act? Heaven help her, what did she know about family life? Her own family was the worst possible role model.

She dragged herself out of bed and started her morning routine. In the short time she'd been home she'd made only a small dent in the work piled on her desk. Under other circumstances she would've worked through lunch and stayed late every evening until she got caught up, but there were too many arrangements to make. She had run errands at noon and left on time each day, to juggle things here at the apartment. Everything was organized now to the best of her ability. Barring a crisis she couldn't delegate, she planned to head back to Fort Riley at five. Ready or not, tomorrow the children were moving to their new home.

* * *

Usually focused, Meredith's mind wandered as the day progressed. Until Quinn, her entire life centered on her job. Her world revolved around the myriad details involved in running her department. She thrived on the challenge of her duties at Omaha National Life and Casualty Company. Today she saw Quinn's face on every page of the report she prepared, heard his voice no matter who spoke to her. Their separation, brief though it was, seemed interminable.

One minute she was impatient to hit the road, the next minute dread filled her. Three -- count them, three -- children were about to invade her home. How would she ever cope? Sheer force of will kept panic at bay. Somehow everything would work out. It had to. There was too much at stake.

Normally Meredith was one of the last to leave the department at the end of the day. Not today. At five o'clock sharp, she slung her purse strap over her shoulder, grabbed her brief case and headed home at a brisk trot, rather than her ordinary sedate pace.

She changed quickly from her business suit into a casual denim skirt and a blue and green stripped polo shirt, then snatched the overnight bag she'd packed the night before and headed to the garage.

Approaching Quinn's prized Probe Meredith noticed something wasn't quite right. The car sat at a strange angle. Oh, no. Stepping closer, she realized the left front tire was flatter than a tortilla. Automatically, she opened the back and reached for the spare. Wait a minute. It was after five-thirty. If she stopped to have the tire repaired now, the delay would cost her at the very least an hour, most likely longer. The more reasonable option was to drive her own car. They could deal with the flat tire when they returned tomorrow.

Decision made, Meredith turned to the two-seat, flame-red Miata parked next to the Probe. Grinning, she stroked the soft roof. She tossed her bag on the passenger seat, climbed in and turned the ignition key. The engine purred like a contented cat. The sports car, her pride and joy, was the visible symbol of the success she'd worked so hard to achieve. After all those years of putting every spare cent into schooling and the trappings necessary for professional advancement, her promotion last year allowed her to purchase her dream car. She loved zipping around town with the top down, while the wind blew through her hair.

It wasn't until sunset turned the western sky a medley of reds and oranges that the truth dawned on Meredith. Driving the Miata was a poor decision.

* * *

Quinn stood in the window watching the quiet street. Dusk turned to darkness; the last impromptu baseball game ended and the neighborhood children drifted indoors. This was his first minute to himself all day. He peeled his damp T-shirt away from his chest. Brett had gotten carried away with the game he played during his bath. Quinn winced. Good thing neatnik Meredith hadn't seen the flooded floor.

How in the world would they make this arrangement work? He'd seen irritation flicker in his bride's eyes every time he dropped his clothes on the bed instead of putting them away. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. He knew she was annoyed.

Patti had been an easy-going mom. Small things like scattered toys and a little water on the bathroom floor didn't bother her. Quinn didn't need much imagination to know that if -- let's be realistic here -- when Brett overflowed the bathtub Meredith would have a conniption fit. He thought of the dining room furniture she'd searched so hard to find. The lacquer set matched the tables in the living room. The rectangular table contained three beveled mirrors set in the top. The chair seats were snow white. He pictured sticky hand prints and spilled milk and cringed. Was he acting insensitively? Was he asking the impossible of his new wife? None of this was fair to her, but what else could he do?

He rolled his shoulders, more tired than if he'd put in a tough week at the office and then pulled a full drill weekend. Three children were more hard work than he had ever imagined. If he'd only known how much child care took out of a guy before he'd blithely committed to raise Steve's kids. Too late now. For better or worse, the little rascals were his.

He glanced at his watch. Where was Meredith? She should be here by now. He missed her something awful. How many times since she returned to Omaha had he turned to say something to her? To share a memory, to plea for reassurance, to seek advice? It had been an arduous week. So many decisions to make. Sorting Steve's and Patti's personal effects had been the most trying thing he'd endured in a long time. He needed Meredith's comforting presence.

A cry from the other room jerked Quinn from his reverie. He loped down the hall to the girls' room. Brittany mustn't wake Wynne. He'd learned the hard way just how impossible Wynne was if she got less than her required sleep. One grouch at a time was all he could handle.

The baby had been cranky since her mother died. Patti's child care book called it anxiety separation from the baby's special people. He figured that was a fancy name for grief. Whatever it was, he hoped the infant would settle down soon. Her bouts of endless crying were getting to him, making him doubt his ability to succeed as a father substitute for the kids.

"Hey, Sweetpea," he whispered, lifting the unhappy baby from her crib. "It's okay."

He grabbed a dry diaper off the changing table and headed straight for the kitchen, closing the door on the way out. He measured powdered formula into Brittany's bottle, then stretched her out on the couch, a rubberized pad positioned under her bottom. He changed the wailing baby with a proficiency born of necessity and a few days practice.

As he settled into the chair to feed the baby, the beam of headlights swept through the front window. About time! He'd worried about Meredith driving alone more than he would ever admit out loud.

He shoved the nipple into Brittany's mouth. Blessed quiet! Cradling the tyke against his chest, he raced to the porch and waited while she parked.

* * *

With every mile Meredith drove, the anxiety in her heart grew until she reeled under its weight. She passed through the post gate almost sick. It'll be all right. It'll be all right.

After a couple of wrong turns she found her way through the rabbit warren of the housing area and located Steve's quarters. Before she pulled the key from the ignition, Quinn bounded down the steps.

"Hi, Marigold." His smile wrapped her in loving warmth. "I sure am glad to see you! How was your trip?"

"Seemed to take forever." She swung her feet to the concrete. "I couldn't wait to get back."

Leaning forward -- Brittany jammed between them -- he kissed his wife.

Meredith pressed her lips into his and twined her arms around his neck, returning his welcome. A noisy sucking sound obscured the cicada's symphony. A tiny foot kicked her breast. Something told her the blow was a mere preview of things to come. Silently, she railed against fate. A brand new bride should be able to kiss her husband without interference.

"Let's go in before the mosquitoes gnaw us alive," Quinn said. "I'll get your bag as soon as I put Sweetpea back to bed."

Meredith followed him into the living room, overcome by awkwardness. One look at Quinn in adequate lighting revealed he hadn't had an easy week. Fatigue etched lines around his mouth and bags shadowed his eyes. For his sake, she wanted to pretend happy contentment. Could she stretch her acting capabilities that far?

Quinn dropped into a clunky recliner and continued to feed the baby. His rapt expression caught her by surprise. Why, he enjoyed cuddling that tiny creature. Despair engulfed her.

"So what's up at the office?" he asked, propping the baby against his shoulder, his big hand patting her back.

"Your boss announced he's retiring."

"I'm not surprised. He's hinted at the possibility."

A loud belch and a puddle of formula erupted from the infant's mouth. "Darn it, Sweetpea, you've christened me again. Why can't I remember not to feed you without a burp rag?"

Every crooning word stabbed Meredith's heart like the point of a rapier. She gave herself a mental pep talk. If so small a thing put her in such a tizzy she'd never make it. She'd promised to make an honest effort. That meant concentrating on the practical side and closing her heart to the sentimental stuff. She stood and stiffened her spine. Why couldn't she, just once in her life, choose an easy path? "I'll get you a towel."

"There's a cloth diaper--" Quinn gestured to the dining table "--somewhere in the clean clothes."

Meredith wove her way through the packed boxes. A mountain of laundry covered the table; only a few pieces were folded. Just how ready to leave were they? She'd expected to find everything done when she arrived. She pulled a diaper from the teetering heap and handed it to him. "I'll finish folding these," she stifled a yawn, "while you put her back to bed."

After settling Brittany, Quinn went outside for Meredith's suitcase. Moments later he returned, his face a grim thundercloud. "Meredith! Why in the Sam Hill did you drive that toy down here?"

Her hand balled into a fist of its own volition. "That toy happens to be my car."

"You should've driven the Probe. It's got more room."

"On a flat tire!" she snapped, then closed her eyes and gulped a calming breath. Easy, Meredith. You promised to try. "I figured stopping to get it fixed would delay me too long."

His expression softened. "I guess we'll manage. I'd planned for you to take the kids in the car, while I followed in the truck."

Guilt swamped her once again. Driving the Miata had not been a deliberate choice, but she was glad she wouldn't travel home cooped up with the children.

* * *

Sated from another dose of Quinn's incredible lovemaking, Meredith closed her eyes. Hovering on the brink of sleep, a sudden terrified cry from the other room startled her.

Quinn bolted from bed and snatched his well-worn cutoffs from the floor. "Now I know why I found pajamas in Steve's drawer," he muttered, tugging on the shorts.

Long minutes crept by. Meredith resisted the urge to join him in comforting whichever child had awakened in distress. She dared not risk forming even the smallest bond with the children.

Quinn returned, shucked his shorts and crawled in beside her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, snuggling against his furry chest.

"Yeah. Brett had another nightmare."

"Another?"

"Every night. Wynne, too. And Brittany's been waking up howling. Guess she's having bad dreams and can't tell me."

"You've had a rough time."

"Theirs is worse. Go to sleep, hon. I doubt that's the last time I'll have to calm a kid tonight."

* * *

The highway stretched northward, an endless blacktop strip. Strapped in a protective car seat beside Meredith, Brittany cried piteously. The din drowned out Enya's soothing music issuing from the tape player. Meredith tried once more to satisfy the baby with her pacifier. She spit the empty nipple out again.

The poor kid. It was a safe bet her diaper needed changing. Meredith kept an eye peeled for a place to pull off the road safely. Fifteen minutes of ceaseless crying passed before a small lay-by with a picnic table came into view. She flipped on her turn signal and stopped.

It wasn't until the bright yellow rental truck disappeared over a hill that she realized neither she nor Quinn had foreseen one of them needing to stop and not being able to communicate with the other. Oh, well. She knew where she was going and how to get there. Still, when the truck vanished her heart sank. Her lifeline was miles up the road.

Best get on with the task at hand. The sooner she finished, the better chance she had of catching up with Quinn and the older children. Lifting Brittany from the car seat, she encountered a damp spot too high up the child's back to have come from a leaky diaper. Of course. Thick quilted cotton lined the surrounding plastic. While the seat kept Brittany safe, it was like being wrapped in a winter coat. Meredith carried the baby to the picnic table to change her. Better let the kid cool off a bit before she had to go back in the torture seat.

Since they were stopped, Meredith rummaged in the diaper bag for the apple juice Quinn stashed inside. With any luck, a drink would calm Brittany enough to fall asleep.

Meredith wished she could indulge in a cool beverage herself. However, this wasn't an interstate highway with decent rest areas. She'd better wait.

And if she was going to catch up with Quinn, she'd better get going.

Brittany remained content as long as she sucked on her bottle, but the moment the juice was gone, she started crying again. Meredith thought she'd go crazy. Nothing she could do and still drive the car helped. Hours cooped up in a vehicle with a screaming baby were not part of her bargain with Quinn. Good thing he wasn't anywhere near or she'd make herself a widow.

Quinn's tired face floated in her mind and her righteous wrath faded. She was aware he'd gotten up during the night with one child or the other no less than three times. It had taken most of the morning to load the truck. She smiled to herself remembering how she'd feasted on the display of gleaming, bulging muscles while he worked. He was exhausted before they'd started north, yet he had remained patient with the children's numerous questions and obvious anxiety.

She turned onto I-80 at Lincoln and breathed a sigh of relief. In a few minutes she'd clear the city limits and could crank up the speed. The sooner they arrived in Omaha the better.

* * *

Two hours and two stops later, Meredith parked the Miata in its reserved space in their apartment garage. Now she knew the true meaning of the word frazzled. Brittany had finally cried herself to sleep ten minutes ago.

Meredith was upset with herself for allowing the trip to turn into such a nightmare. Her renowned organizational skills had taken a powder. Of course, a little experience would've made the whole trip easier, but that was a poor excuse and no comfort. The smart thing would've been to travel with Wynne and let Brittany ride in the truck. Then Brett could have entertained her. Another case of twenty-twenty hindsight. She surmised they'd experience a whole lot of that before Quinn and she figured out how to cope with the children.

Thinking ahead for once, she unstrapped the car seat. The crib wouldn't be set up yet. Maybe, if the gods were smiling, the little one would stay asleep at least until they unloaded everything.

The elevator opened on the eighth floor. She stepped into the hushed hallway. Opulently decorated with patterned carpet and wallpaper bordered chair rails, complementary artwork hung on the walls.

Halfway toward her own front door, Brett exploded into the corridor. "Meredith," he shouted to the top of his lungs.

"Shh! You'll wake the baby and disturb the neighbors."

He slid to a stop in front of her, a tear leaving a trail on his dusty cheek. "Me and Wynne're starvin'! There's nutin' in the fridge. Nutin'!"

Chapter Three

If one more thing went wrong, Meredith figured she'd scream. Of course, there wasn't food in the refrigerator. Grocery shopping ranked at the bottom of her priority list during her brief time in Omaha between trips to Fort Riley. Amidst wading through the work accumulated during her absence and making arrangements for the children, cooking proved too much of a hassle. She'd opted to dine at one of the many Old Market restaurants, like she'd always done. A new consideration hit her with the impact of an elephant sitting on an ant. Another aspect of life as she'd known it was about to change. Nutritious meals geared to young palates became a high priority at that moment.

Meredith faced the distressed boy, guilt gnawing her. "I'm sorry, Brett. Let's go inside and figure out what to do."

The elevator door swished open and Quinn stepped into the hall pushing a dolly piled high with large boxes. "You made it," he said, smiling.

Although an innocent enough comment, Meredith saw red. "No thanks to you."

He strode into the apartment and unloaded the boxes on the den floor. Swinging around, he faced her, his hands planted on his hips. "Mind explaining that?"

Meredith turned to the dining alcove to the left of the front door and, using her free hand, spread a flannel receiving blanket on the mirror-topped table. Then she set Brittany, still asleep in her car seat, on the protected spot.

She faced him, angery with him, with herself, simmering inside her. "You drove off and left me."

"How was I supposed to know you were pulling over?" Quinn asked, his expression grim, although he kept his tone of voice calm. "If you'd blown your horn or something I would've stopped. When I realized you weren't behind me you were nowhere in sight."

"Of course," she hated sounding like a first class shrew, but couldn't stop herself, "it didn't occur--"

"I'm hungry!" Brett shouted, tears spilling down his face.

Quinn dropped his gaze to the child. His facial muscles softened. "C'mon, let's see what we can scare up in the kitchen."

"Ain't nutin' there," Brett announced.

Wynne, trailing her blanket, slipped wraith-like beside Quinn and wrapped her arm around his leg. Thumb in her mouth, she peered at him, her gaze beseeching.

"Is Brett right?" Quinn asked.

"Pretty much," Meredith said. "We didn't stock the refrigerator before we left."

"You didn't shop this week?" His tone carried an accusatory note.

She shook her head.

He extended a hand to each child. "I'll show you where you can wash your hands, then we'll go out for supper."

"Shouldn't we finish unloading first?" Meredith asked. "It'll be dark soon."

"These kids are hungry now. We'll empty the truck after we eat."

He was right. An overwhelming sense of ineptitude assailed her. She wanted to crawl under a rock. After listening to a screaming baby for miles on end, her head pounded. She wasn't thinking straight. But the problem was more than her headache. She felt as if she floundered in the dark with only the smallest pinprick of light to guide her.

Darn it all. She did the best she could. She wasn't proficient with children. When she and Quinn moved their things to this place they'd worked until the job was finished, then eaten. He could cut her a little slack.

Moments later, the trio returned. "Where're my car keys?" Quinn asked.

Meredith reached for her purse. "Right here. But, uh...there's a small problem."

He groaned, his face the thundercloud she was beginning to know so well. "Flat tire on the one vehicle big enough to hold us all."

She clutched her purse to her chest. If she'd planned ahead she would've shopped. If she'd thought beyond the immediacy of getting on the road, she'd've changed the doggone tire. What a time to blow her always-prepared reputation. "Why don't you guys set the table and I'll run to Cubby's Market and bring something back."

Quinn's glower could've eaten a hole in her. "Okay."

Meredith backed out the door with a silent vow to do a better job of keeping her end of their bargain -- beginning right now. "I'll hurry."

* * *

Meredith's glance shifted from the closed bedroom door to the clock plopped in hit-or-miss fashion on the coffee table. It was almost ten p.m. Her knees wobbled and her back ached. Brett and Wynne slept in the queen-sized bed in the master bedroom, Brittany in the playpen crammed under the window.

She sighed. What a mess! The apartment was overrun with the children's belongings, and she had not yet found the perfect spot for their wedding gifts. She craved order; she needed order. Well, standing here staring at the chaos wouldn't make the clutter go away.

Yawning, she searched among the boxes Quinn had brought from Fort Riley until she found the children's sheets. He should be almost finished fitting the bed pieces together.

"Marigold, can you give me a hand?" His voice contained none of his earlier huff. Funny how a little food tamed the snarling beast. Quinn might have a short fuse, but he got over his anger quickly.

You always knew where you stood with Quinn. She should take lessons. She tended to brood over things until they were blown all out of proportion.

"Sure." She dropped the linens on a chest of drawers. "What do you need?"

He cast her a leer so hot she all but evaporated on the spot.

"Besides that." A grin tilted her lips upward in spite of herself. The man had a one track mind.

"You're no fun!"

"What I am is tired and so are you. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go to bed."

"Now you're talking. Hold these--" he indicated Wynne's white gilt-edged headboard and the railing which held the springs "-while I tighten the bolts."

They worked together another hour before the beds were assembled. Brett's pine mate's bed occupied the corner under the west window. Wynne's four poster filled the middle of the room. Meredith yawned, like she had every few seconds for the last hour, and shook her head. The room arrangement distressed her. "If we put a screen down the middle, it'll seem like they each have their own room. More like at home."

"Yeah," Quinn laughed. "I can picture it now. Their first scuffle and the screen will come crashing down, on top of one of their heads most likely. Don't fret about it tonight. Neither of us is awake enough to think straight." He patted her back and gave a gentle shove toward the door. "Hop in the shower. I'll move the kids."

* * *

A strident cry woke Quinn from a sound sleep. It seemed like he'd closed his eyes just a moment ago. The bright blue numerals on the clock radio confirmed that was close to the truth.

He'd envisioned transferring the children a simple task. Not so. Brett roused, just enough to protest with flailing arms and legs and muttered complaints. Quinn played bob and duck, staving off a black eye or broken nose, while he staggered across the living room. The commotion awakened both Brittany and Wynne. Thirty minutes passed before they were all settled.

Another lesson learned. When Brett and Wynne went down for the night, they'd better be in their own beds. Thank heaven Brittany proved more flexible.

Quinn reacted to the crying like an old firehouse dog responding to the alarm. In one short week his actions had become pure reflex. He was on his feet, reaching for his cutoffs, before he realized Brittany was the child awake. He changed her -- not an easy task while bending over the side of the play pen -- speaking nonsense words in calming tones. In a few moments, she drifted back to sleep.

He crawled back in bed, his eyelids already drooping. He burrowed against Meredith's soft body, treasuring her closeness and soothed her flowery scent. His heart swelled...he drifted off before he finished the thought.

At ten to six, Brett screamed in terror. Quinn sped across the apartment and stubbed his toe on one of the packing boxes. Muttering a curse suitable to the barracks, he came within a hair's breath of regretting his bargain with Meredith. Sure would be nice to nudge her in the ribs to remind her it was her turn to get up.

But not nice enough to risk a further strain on their relationship. So far she'd given every indication of meaning exactly what she said. She made no attempt to interact with the children any more than necessary. She wore the same aloof mantle that had earned her the ice princess tag at Omaha National. He wanted the sweet, loving woman he'd found under all that ice back.

He eased Brett against the wall and climbed in bed with him, too tired to sit on the edge while he reassured the grieving boy. These jack-in-the-box nights better end soon, or he wouldn't be worth shooting. He cuddled Brett close, and they both returned to the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

A cooing sound coming from somewhere near the foot of the bed roused Meredith. She reached over to prod Quinn. Her hand encountered the cool sheet, not warm flesh. Cracking one eyelid, she noted a sliver of sunlight glowing around the edge of the shade. No light shone under the bathroom door. Except for Brittany's babble, the apartment was quiet. Wherever Quinn had gotten to, he'd hear her in a minute. Meredith closed her eye, prepared to go back to sleep.

But Brittany had other ideas. Her cheerful noise turned to fussing. Where was Quinn? Resigned that sleep was over, Meredith hauled herself out of bed. The baby's fussing changed to indignant crying the second Meredith's feet hit the floor. The sounds grated on her nerves. After yesterday's experience she wasn't about to let the baby get wound up again. Meredith leaned over the play pen and lifted Quinn's youngest charge, holding her at arm's length.

Brittany stopped crying and flashed a just-what-I-wanted smile. Meredith's heart melted. Before she could stop herself, she cuddled the baby close and kissed the top of her down-covered head. Only the coldest, meanest woman on earth could resist such a sweet gift.

Was Quinn flaked out on the couch? She opened the bedroom door and peeked into the living room, darkened by the closed drapes. Not there. Or in the kitchen either. The only place left was the children's room.

She found Quinn scrunched up next to Brett in the twin size bed dead to the world, his feet hanging over the footboard. The once-brilliant hues of the Sesame Street characters sheet covered his body from the waist down. She stifled a giggle, not only at the Gulliver in Lilliput image, but the incongruity of the Muppet monsters protecting a soldier.

Sleep softened his features, and the dark shadow of his whiskers hid his dimples. Morning radiance spilled through the spot where the curtains weren't quite pulled together and spotlighted his broad shoulders. His dark chest hair enticed her to plow her fingers in the curly tangle. Heavens! Even sound asleep he managed to tempt her. What she'd give to be able to crawl in beside and tease him awake. Her churning arousal would have to wait. She realized this wouldn't be the last time she'd lament their lack of privacy.

She noticed the purplish smudges under his eyes. It was just as well this wasn't the right time to make love. He looked almost as tired as when he'd gone to bed. Shame beset her. Again last night, she'd remained snuggled under the sheets and let him drag himself out of bed time and again in answer to one or another of the children's cries. Quinn needed sleep more than anything else. She didn't have the heart to wake him until he had just enough time to eat, change the tire and get ready for Sunday worship.

He wouldn't miss church. If she knew anything about her husband, she knew that.

Brett woke up and reached out to touch Quinn. Meredith put a finger to her lips and shook her head, then beckoned with her hand.

Her resolve to keep the little ones at arms length slipped a notch. Well, darn. What was she supposed to do? Let the poor guy wear himself to a nubbin while she stood around and watched? It was her fault he had to change the tire before church. If she'd taken care of the flat when she first discovered the problem, he could see to the children and get ready on time.

Still, the knowledge that she was a potential child abuser terrified her. In the few hours since they moved into the apartment, it was obvious all of them were going to live on top of each other. She couldn't keep her distance, at least not in the way she'd envisioned. Brett, Wynne and Brittany were a part of her life, whether she liked it or not. She'd have to watch herself. Think first, speak and act second. Otherwise she'd lose Quinn.

That was unthinkable.

* * *

Groggy, Quinn needed a few moments to identify the weight centered across his middle. A child sat on top of him. A small hand stroked his cheek.

"Ouch! You scratch, Quinn."

"Go 'way, Wynnie Pooh. I'm sleeping."

"Merith says break'ast." Wynne slid to the floor and yanked on his arm. "C'mon."

"Okay, okay." He sat up and rubbed his gritty eyes. The rich aroma of fresh- brewed coffee urged him awake. Only then did it penetrate his foggy brain that he was in the kid's room. He threw back the sheet and stood. Scraping his hand across his stubbled chin, he glanced down at his cutoffs, zipped but unbuttoned at the waist. At least he was decent.

Sunday morning, already. Where had the week gone? He was tempted to skip church this morning but he wouldn't. No way. Steve and Patti had taken their children to Sunday School and worship services every week. Quinn intended to continue as they'd started.

That meant he needed to change the flat tire first.

"Quinn," Wynne tugged on his hand. "Break'ast!"

He stumbled after the fairy-like girl. "Lead me to the coffee, Wynnie Pooh."

Quinn shuffled toward the coffee pot in a half-awake stupor. He filled the over- sized souvenir mug Meredith had bought him in Colorado and downed half in two deep swigs. Caffeine jolted him awake.

He blinked, but the scene before him didn't change. What the Sam Hill? Three small kids gathered around the dining table. His wife fed the baby. The contentment glowing on her face hammered him right in the gut. For a woman who swore up and down that she was no good with children, who insisted she didn't want any more to do with them than necessary, she looked mighty happy. More than happy in fact, she looked beautiful. Her mahogany hair was sleep-tousled, her face devoid of make-up, her robe stained with baby cereal. Yet, the inner loveliness she hid more often than not, showed this morning with a brilliance he'd never seen before. Free of their wide-eyed, sharp-eared, impressionable audience he'd act on the emotions she stirred in him. Later, he promised himself, he'd kiss her like she ought to be kissed and tell her the things that burned in his heart.

Instead he leaned over Meredith's chair, draped his arms around her neck and nuzzled a circumspect kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"You scratch," she accused.

"So I've been told. You women --" he winked at Wynne "-- are all alike. Don't give a guy a chance to shave, then complain when he scratches. At least this little lady loves me," he said and bussed Brittany's cheek.

The baby started to cry, her dainty hand touching her soft cheek.

"Now see what you've done," Meredith exclaimed, laughing.

"I'll feed her," Quinn offered. "You should've wakened me earlier."

"I hated to disturb you. Go ahead and eat. I'll finish this." She loaded a long- handled feeding spoon with strained peaches and aimed for Brittany's rosebud mouth. "Here, Sweetpea."

Puzzled, he wasn't awake enough to understand what was going on. Could Meredith be softening toward the children? Or was she doing her best to take care of him? He frowned and shook Cheerios into the bowl at his place.

"Sorry about breakfast," Meredith said. "I was in a hurry to get home while the deli chicken was hot last night. I guessed at what the children like."

"This is fine, honey. We'll have a family conference later and find out their preferences. Pass the doughnuts, please, Brett."

"My dad likes doughnuts," Brett announced. He spoke in an undertone, as if afraid to mention his father.

Quinn exchanged a glance with Meredith. Her dismayed expression told him she'd noticed Brett's use of the present tense also. He turned his full attention on the boy. "You bet he did. At Boys Town all the kids helped with the grocery shopping and Steve always made sure we bought doughnuts."

He caught sight of the kitchen clock. They'd be late if he didn't get a move on. "Hurry and finish, Brett. I need your help changing the tire so we can go to church."

* * *

Quinn assembled the jack and inserted it in the proper notch in the bumper. Each clicking pump of the handle raised the Probe higher in the air. "My dad wants a Corvette," Brett stated. "Mom said no."

That didn't surprise Quinn. Steve had always dreamed of owning a fast sports car. The closest he'd come was a beat up Mustang convertible.

"Your dad knew a Corvette wasn't practical for a guy with three kids."

"My dad likes kids better than cars."

"He sure did." Quinn loosened a lug nut with the spin of the wrench. How should he respond to the boy's grief? It was as if Brett couldn't accept that his father was really gone. Quinn didn't claim any expertise, but instinct told him not to go along with the fantasy. He dropped the lug in the hub cap Brett held and looked the child in the eye. "Brett, your dad is dead. He can't come back. He and your mom are in heaven."

Tears spilled from the little boy's eyes. "I want my dad and mom."

The abject sadness on Brett's face, in his voice, tore at Quinn's heart. He missed Steve and Patti, too -- missed them more than he knew words to express - - but it wasn't the same. He remembered how lost and alone he'd felt when his grandmother died and he'd been sent to live among strangers. At least he'd prevented Steve's kids that fate. He couldn't replace Brett's parents, but he could - - and did -- love the young Duttons in a way no court-appointed foster parents could. He dropped the wrench and reached for the boy. "C'mere, ace. I need a hug."

* * *

The morning sun shimmered on the stained glass windows adorning the small stone church where he and Meredith had been married. Quinn parked on the street in front. He got out and flipped the seat back forward, enabling Brett to climb out. Since they'd changed the Probe's tire, the boy hadn't shaken his melancholy. It worried Quinn; nothing he'd tried so far had helped.

Meredith helped Wynne out on the other side.

He crawled in the back seat and lifted Brittany from the car seat and banged his head on the door frame as he straightened. Two-door cars were the pits for hauling a young family. Diaper bag slung over his shoulder, he started up the walk to the church door. Brett stood rooted to the sidewalk.

"C'mon, ace."

"No! I'm not goin' in there with the coffins."

"There aren't any coffins in the church, Brett," Meredith said, annoyance clear in her voice. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"No!" The boy stomped his foot, his face contorted in fear. "I'm not goin' in there."

"Brett! We'll be late," Meredith scolded.

"Here," Quinn said, passing the baby to his wife, "take Brittany and Wynne inside. Brett and I will be along in minute."

He thought Meredith would refuse, but she took Brittany from him. He watched until she and the girls reached the door, then crouched and took both Brett's hands. "What's wrong, son?"

"Don't like coffins."

"Remember, we took the coffins from the church to the cemetery."

Traffic whizzed by. A blue jay squawked from a linden tree in the yard. An elderly couple skirted Quinn and Brett on their way inside. Finally Brett nodded.

"There won't be coffins in the church this morning."

Quinn stood. Still the child didn't budge. Lord, how do I handle this? "Let's take a walk. We'll go in when you're ready."

Hand in hand they strolled up the block. "If your dad and mom were here what would you do on Sunday morning?" Quinn asked.

"Go to church."

"Don't you think that's what they'd want you to do today?"

Brett considered for a moment. "Uh-huh."

They reached the corner and turned around. "I promise there are no coffins in the church today," Quinn repeated. "Don't you think we should go find Meredith and your sisters?"

The boy stopped and seemed to screw up his courage. "You promise?"

He held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Okay."

* * *

"I wanna go to the cemetery," Brett said from the back seat on their way home from church.

What's with this child? Meredith couldn't fathom the boy's behavior. First he didn't want to see the caskets, now he wanted to go to the cemetery. It made no sense, but then grief wasn't logical. She watched Quinn, his struggle for an appropriate answer almost visible.

"The cemetery is in Kansas. We can't drive down there today, but we will one day soon if you want."

"Tomorrow?"

"No, Meredith and I have to work tomorrow. On a Saturday."

"Next Saturday?"

"Let's wait until the markers are in place. You want to see your mom's and dad's names don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

Meredith was awed that Quinn handled this bizarre conversation so well. If she were fielding the boy's incessant pronouncements and questions, she would've lost patience a long time ago. As it was, she wanted to tell Brett to hush, they'd talked about it enough. She remained silent, aware that this was part of the child's healing process.

"After lunch we need to unpack your stuff," Quinn said. "If you work real hard helping, when Brittany wakes up from her nap, we'll go to the park and ride the boat out to the fountain. Okay?"

"Okay!"

Meredith welcomed the enthusiasm in his reply.

Quinn parked on a cobblestoned street in the Old Market not far from the apartment. The sidewalk teamed with people, tourists and residents alike. "I thought we'd eat lunch at the Spaghetti Works. Okay?"

"Fine by me," Meredith said. "While you and the children are unpacking, I'll run to the grocery store. We can't afford to eat out all the time."

"Good idea."

They trooped inside and were seated at a table separated from the others by three walls.

"This is a family conference," Quinn said after they ordered. "Meredith has to buy groceries and she needs to know what to get. What's your favorite food, Brett?"

"Chocolate cake and pizza."

Meredith swallowed a chuckle and dug in her purse for a notepad and pen.

"How 'bout a vegetable?"

Brett wrinkled his nose. "Don't like none."

"Don't like any," Quinn corrected. "Are you sure? What about lima beans?"

Brett shook his head.

"Cauliflower?"

"Cuddyfuddy's yucky!"

"Cuddyfuddy?" Meredith questioned.

"Steve's name for cauliflower," Quinn supplied. "He called it that as long as I knew him. Don't know where it came from." He turned back to Brett. "You can't go through life without eating veggies. You need 'um to grow big and strong. So tell me one you'll eat."

The boy grimaced. "Corn, I guess."

Quinn grinned and focused his attention on the little girl in the booster seat next to him. "Your turn, Wynnie Pooh."

The thumb in her mouth garbled her reply. He reached over and pulled her hand down. "Say it again. I can't understand when you talk around your thumb."

"Peas and scetti-os."

Meredith wrote until the waiter arrived with their food. By teasing them, Quinn had not only provided her a list of their likes, but he'd gotten them to reveal some emphatic dislikes. It was clear her meal planning required a dramatic change. Spinach soufflé, stir-fried shrimp and watercress salad would have to wai