Page 47 of Doyle

Fancy.

“That was amazing today,” said a female voice, and he turned to see Elise Jameson standing there, her dark hair down, pushed back with a floral headband, wearing a pink dress and fancy sandals. “Such quick thinking.”

Her husband came up behind her, extended a hand. “Indeed. I’ve never seen someone change out a tank so fast.”

“We got...” Not lucky—he knew that, deep in his soul. “Blessed. There’s no doubt that the timing was right, and I’m just thankful I was able to be in the right place at the right time.”

“We call that God’s providence,” Hunter said. “There’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

Doyle lifted his glass. “Right.”

“People often ask why bad things happen,” Hunter said, looking past him, his gaze landing on something, then back at Doyle. “But I always wonder about the tragedies that miss us. What we’ve been protected from.”

“And why God chooses to let some things through.” Doyle took a drink. “My sister says He has a plan. I just don’t always know what it is.”

Hunter gave a warm chuckle. “What if it’s not a destination but a position of the heart?” He put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Looks like dinner is nearly ready. But we did want to talk to you about Jamal.”

“And Kemar,” added Elise.

“Kemar. I’m not sure?—”

“We’re not either.” Hunter gave him a grim look. “We already love Jamal. And we... we don’t want to split up a family. But Kemar seems... a handful.”

“When authorities found Kemar, he was living in their abandoned home, taking care of Jamal on his own. He was eleven, and Jamal was three. He’s always been very protective of him.”

“We don’t like separating families. But we’re not sure Kemar... We don’t want to get in over our heads.” Hunter’s mouth made a grim line. “But we need to think about this.”

“Right.” Doyle sighed. “I understand.” He didn’t want to mention that Kemar might not be returning to the orphanage. Not when he still had hope that the kid would come to his senses.

“But we will provide support for both of them, and all of their education costs.”

That was something. “Thank you.”

“Especially knowing they’re in such good hands,” said Elise, and squeezed his arm.

They were. Especially with Tia at the helm.

After the near accident, he’d gone back to Hope House and sat on his bed shaking, realizing?—

He liked Tia more than he should.

Even now, as Declan stepped up and announced that the food was ready for consumption, his gaze found his codirector.

She wore her brown hair down and an orange-and-teal-patterned dress that tied around the neck, with a gathered waistline and a drop to her ankles. Firelight flickered against her arms, tanned and muscular (although she wore a gauze bandage over yesterday’s burn), and the wind played with her hair. A different fire flickered in those hazel-green eyes, and had she not been standing next to—of course—Ethan Pine, Doyle might have walked over to her, drawn her away from the crowd and...

What? Kissed her?No, but maybe pulled her against him and let the rest of the pooled adrenaline from today’s near tragedy flush out.

Codirectors. Partners. He needed to keep that forefront in his mind,thank you.

The guests loaded up plates, then sat at the round tables, the tablecloths rippling just slightly with the breeze. He found a chair at the table of Dr. Greg and Heather Scott. Greg couldn’t stop talking about his son, playing hockey in the juniors, and how he was heading off to hockey camp in Minnesota because “King Con, center for the Minnesota Blue Ox” was teaching this year.

Doyle refrained from mentioning that he,uh, knew him. However, “I’ve heard Conrad is an amazing coach.” His brother had spent too many years avoiding one of his greatest callings. Nice to see that he’d stepped out of his past too.

Too? Maybe.Save for the recent memory, Doyle hadn’t dreamed of Juliet in weeks, and even his daytime thoughts didn’t land on her quite as often as they used to.

He wasn’t forgetting, just... taking a new path.

“Are these fried bananas?” Heather turned over the plantains glistening with butter on her plate.

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