Page 205 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“You are.” Becca looked smug.

Max shrugged “Okay. But the first time he claws the couch, he’s out. Got it?”

“He won’t claw anything. I’ll watch him real close,” Molly promised.

“We’ll see. I never saw a cat that didn’t claw the furniture.”

“Misty doesn’t. I got her a scratching post.” Becca put her napkin on her lap as Mrs. Jeffries brought in the food.

“Maybe I’ll make Boo one,” Max said.

“Oh, Daddy, really?” Molly practically bounced in her chair.

“I’ll see about it tonight,” he promised. Maybe it would make up for not listening. He really needed to try to shake the habit of thinking about his characters even when he wasn’t writing.

He grabbed the platter of roast beef then glanced at Becca. “I suppose you want to pray first?”

She blushed and nodded. As he watched the color sweep over her cheeks, he realized he was developing feelings for her he never intended. At times she could be so shy and retiring and other times she was in-your-face bold. Sometimes a little girl and sometimes way too wise and adult.

He bowed his head, and she prayed for the food in a firm, compelling voice. He found himself listening to the nuances inher prayer. She spoke as though she knew God intimately, as though he was an old friend she talked to all the time.

When Laura was alive, he and Gram used to debate about God. He’d even toyed with the idea of turning his life over to God. Maybe he was a coward, but it was hard to think about giving up control of his own life, of admitting he couldn’t save himself. He couldn’t shake the longing that gripped his heart as he listened to her final amen.

Tate choked on the gulp of liquor he sucked down at the end of the prayer, and it broke the holy hush that had fallen over the room. Max picked up the plate of beef and took some then passed it to Shayna. Her hand lingered on his, and when he turned back around, he found an expression on Becca’s face he didn’t know how to read.

It almost seemed like—pain. Was she jealous of Shayna? She was married. Not that she acted like it some days. But even if she didn’t have the morals God gave a cat, it didn’t mean he’d fool around with a married woman. If she thought he would, she didn’t know him very well.

He turned back to his plate and scowled at his broccoli. Becca shuffled, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She licked her lips, and he thought she looked a little pale.

“I have something I want to talk to all of you about,” she said. Her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap

The conversations that were beginning to gear up quieted as everyone turned to stare at Becca. She took a sip of water. “I need to ask your forgiveness. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Ah, she was finally going to confess. She’d started to the other day then chickened out. He felt a little sorry for her when he saw her pale cheeks.

“You’re really a preacher and not a research assistant, right?” Shayna asked with a grin. The amusement in her voice lightened the somber tone that had fallen over the room.

“We’d already guessed that,” Tate said.

“Shut up, you guys, and let her finish,” Max growled. He’d wondered when she was going to reveal herself to the rest of them.

“Yeah, I want to hear this,” Nick said. He propped his elbow on the table and leaned his chin into his hand.

Becca bit her lip then drew a deep breath. “I haven’t been honest about who I am. My name is Rebecca Lynn but there’s more. It’s Rebecca Lynn Baxter.”

Silence greeted her announcement, then Tate leaped to his feet and threw his napkin on the floor. “Becky? You’re Becky Baxter? Cousin Becky?” His eyes were red from his drinking binge, but he looked sober.

“That’s right, Tate.” She nodded and stood.

“Why the big secrecy?” he demanded.

“I wanted to find out what had happened to my parents.”

She said the words with such dignity, Max had to admire her courage. It couldn’t have been easy for her. The last traces of his uneasiness of her motives began to trickle away. If she was revealing everything now, maybe he’d been wrong about her.

Tate looked as though he didn’t know whether to hug Becca or slug her. He advanced around the table and stared down into her face. “Little cousin Becky,” he said. “You’re all grown up. Our tree house is still out back.”

“I know, I found it the other day,” she said softly. “I wanted to tell you right from the beginning, Tate. We were friends when we were small.”

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