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Lost And Found Family
Leigh Riker
Is their loss too much to overcome?It’s been a year since her son died, and Emma Mallory can’t forgive herself. She’s dealing with her loss the only way she knows how—throwing herself into work. But spending all her time growing her business takes her further and further away from her husband.Christian is finding his own way through the grief. He’s determined that whatever happens, he won’t lose his wife, too. If he can just remind Emma what they had, and could have again, he might be able to bring her back. Even forgive her. If not, they might lose each other for good…
Is their loss too much to overcome?
It’s been a year since her son died, and Emma Mallory can’t forgive herself. She’s dealing with her loss the only way she knows how—throwing herself into work. But spending all her time growing her business takes her further and further away from her husband.
Christian is finding his own way through the grief. He’s determined that whatever happens, he won’t lose his wife, too. If he can just remind Emma what they had, and could have again, he might be able to bring her back. Even forgive her. If not, they might lose each other for good...
“Hey, good-looking,” she murmured, then blushed.
Her teasing had come without thinking, as it might have less than a year ago. After their quarrel last night it sounded false.
Yet Christian’s eyes had warmed for a second. He turned to his father and the other men in the group, his tone a shade too hearty. “Am I a lucky man, or what?”
Southern gentlemen to the core, they all politely agreed. She gave her father-in-law a quick kiss on the cheek then slid her hand into Christian’s. “We need to circulate.”
She and Christian continued across the room, greeting people here and there until an older woman swooped down on them in a flash of blue organza. Emma couldn’t remember her name, but she was one of Frankie’s charity friends. She hugged Christian then cast a glance at Emma’s dress. “Lovely, my dear,” she murmured. “And how brave of you to come.”
She patted Emma’s bare shoulder.
“In your place I wouldn’t be able to leave the house.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_cef0f89b-1899-55f8-a318-65c4ef8191f9),
We never know what fate will hand us, do we? In Lost and Found Family, Christian Mallory has gotten a second chance with his new wife, Emma. Together, they share the family he’s always wanted, the family Emma badly needs. Life is good.
But then, their world is shattered, and both Christian and Emma wonder if they should even try to go on together. Every attempt to deal with their loss only seems to drive them further apart. Is love strong enough to heal their family, their marriage, Emma and Christian themselves?
I know, if not exactly, how they must feel. In real life, I once came dangerously close to losing my younger son. He’d done a wonderful thing in adopting a rescue kitten, but she also carried cat-scratch fever, which can be devastating and, in rare cases, fatal. The “bug” spread to my son’s brain, and for one terrible day and night I feared he wouldn’t survive. Happily, he did—although the doctors told him he shouldn’t even be here! He’s fine again, healthy and happy. I danced at his wedding. But as you might guess, I haven’t been quite the same person ever since.
Neither are Christian and Emma in this story. How could they be? A tragic, or near-tragic, experience changes you forever. Yet with luck, it also makes you stronger. It makes you appreciate life, and love, even more.
I hope you’ll enjoy taking this journey from loss to love and hope again with Christian and Emma. I think they’re worth the trip.
Happy reading!
Best,
Leigh
Lost and Found Family
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Leigh Riker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LEIGH RIKER, like many readers and writers, grew up with her nose in a book. She still can’t imagine a better way to spend her time than to curl up with a good romance novel—unless it is to write one! She’s a member of the Authors Guild, Novelists, Inc. and Romance Writers of America. When not in her home office, she’s either in the garden, watching movies funny and sad, or traveling (for research purposes, of course). With added “help” from her mischievous Maine coon cat, she’s at work now on a new novel. You can find Leigh on her website, leighriker.com (http://www.leighriker.com), on Facebook at LeighRikerAuthor (https://www.facebook.com/LeighRikerAuthor/) and on Twitter, @lbrwriter (https://twitter.com/lbrwriter).
For our horse, Windsor Castle, the inspiration for the General in this story. When he passed, the owner of the barn where he’d lived wrote: “He was a noble old guy and will be greatly missed. Goodbye, old friend.”
Contents
Cover (#u298363ef-d45e-5a05-8cf9-22db030cfa0d)
Back Cover Text (#u34cb058b-396f-5cd2-938d-4d0c937cbbe5)
Introduction (#ucc3ac41f-dc5d-5eeb-a313-51e32df434e6)
Dear Reader (#ulink_94e46093-9a3f-551d-ad54-75a7b30b0e69)
Title Page (#u52d1b197-2d53-5e49-8394-b1dfa01129d3)
About the Author (#u21d2b792-f04f-50a5-a109-243fb090b788)
Dedication (#u9f2f3368-c752-5525-bab2-990846ae7b8c)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_968cc35d-ebfb-57bd-8d37-49a015d2307f)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7c6d4a60-acfb-543e-9c75-92fca920233b)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d9c4bcc1-96e8-54f8-b4db-ec612bd57554)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c84c4589-1c8d-5a1c-ad85-68e9a84acdfe)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_dba34ac5-56c0-50b7-a1ee-9edbfa7f954d)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_df6eacd5-486d-53a5-923b-07e069a9c22d)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_7ad4b431-79d9-5c09-98a0-3db0b99da593)
December...
I’M LATE, Emma Mallory thought, feeling like the White Rabbit. I’m so late.
She had a million things left on the day’s to-do list. When did she not?
With a sigh of frustration, she glanced down the main aisle of the barn. She’d already tried walking toward the doors that led to the parking area, but Owen hadn’t followed her.
Her three-year-old still stood on his tiptoes, trying to look through the bars of a stall at his father’s horse. She didn’t know who loved that horse more, her little boy or her husband.
And where was Christian? He’d promised to meet them here after work. She’d had barely any time to stop tonight, and now none at all.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She hated to break Owen’s heart but, really, an hour here had turned into two.
“Owen,” she called.
“One more minute,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers over the brass nameplate that read General Robert E. Lee.
And Emma’s heart turned over. She always had a hard time saying no to him. “We’ll visit the General another day,” she said. “I promise.”
He shook his head, blond hair flying, and pulled a plastic bag from his miniature jeans’ pocket. “Daddy promised I could ride. And I have gummy bears, too. I share them with General.”
“No, say goodbye,” Emma said, “then come get in your car seat.”
She started back down the aisle to the wide-open doors. The last rays of sunlight slanted through them, and motes of dust danced in the air. The barn smelled of hay and horseflesh, neither of them Emma’s favorite, but she hadn’t wanted to deny Owen this treat. At almost four now—how time did fly—he was her darling boy. She even smiled to herself. Sooner or later, most likely sooner, Owen would be asking for his own pony. And Emma already had a surprise planned for Christmas.
She was at the doors to the barn when her cell phone rang. Emma checked the display and inwardly groaned. Wouldn’t you know? She glanced toward the indoor arena, where her nineteen-year-old stepdaughter was probably still gazing into the eyes of her boyfriend, the barn’s new trainer. She’d give Grace a chance to make her goodbyes, too, while she answered this call. Emma stepped into the tack room. It would only take a minute.
Actually, it took five.
By the time she’d finished arguing with one of her troublesome clients, the aisle was empty. Maybe Grace had herded Owen out to the car.
Emma took a few steps, then halted.
The raw chill in the air outside penetrated her wool pants and even her coat, making her shiver. She was already multitasking, thinking about what she needed from the market on her way home. And she’d have a few choice words for Christian, who hadn’t shown up yet.
Emma checked the parking area but saw no one in the car. She turned—and heard a shrill whinny, then a thud. The sounds had come from farther along the aisle, and all at once, with fear rising in the back of her throat, Emma was running. The General’s stall door stood half open. A small footstool used for mounting horses lay on its side nearby.
Emma cried out, “Owen!”
Her voice echoed through the barn.
And all their lives changed forever.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_683cf019-579b-5130-a45e-0ab4bc7a30c4)
Late October, the next year...
IT WAS THE silence that bothered Emma most.
She couldn’t get used to the lack of everyday noise: doors slamming, the TV blaring, Owen giggling while Christian tickled him. Daddy, more! Owen calling from his room for one last drink of water before he went to sleep. If only...now, even the dog had stopped barking to greet her at the end of the day.
With a familiar sense of dread, Emma set her bulging tote bag on the desk next to the kitchen counter. A place for everything and everything in its place were the words she’d lived by since she was a child.
Until last December, her life had often seemed—for the first time—normal. The way she liked it. The feeling was even more important now—but much harder to come by.
Emma headed for the great room to find Bob, their Gordon setter, but as she’d expected the dog didn’t move. Its dark, plumy tail thumped once against the forbidden sofa cushion, then flopped back again.
“That dog is depressed,” Grace had said the last time she came to visit.
“Dogs don’t get depressed.”
“Yes they do. Of course they do. Just look at her face.”
“Bob has never adjusted, that’s all,” Emma had said, trying to lighten the moment. “Her name should have been Roberta or at least Bobbie.”
Owen had named the female setter, a gift from his grandfather, after SpongeBob Squarepants, his favorite cartoon character. “My puppy is a boy, like me,” he’d insisted. Finally Christian had convinced him otherwise, but by then, of course, Bob was already Bob.
“It’s not about her name,” Grace had murmured.
And that was true. Life was different now.
Back in the kitchen, Emma took a moment to line up the items that someone—it had to be Christian—had moved: dishwashing detergent, hand cream, the yellow-and-blue ceramic container they’d bought in Greece two years ago, which held a bright nylon scrubby. The beechwood knife block beside it looked a bit off to Emma. There. That was better.
