Which sounded good, but there was another truth. He didn’t want to lose her. Somehow she’d become important to him. He could trust her and that was hard for him to admit. There might be something more, but he wasn’t willing to go there. Not now, probably not ever.

“You’ll want to make sure she hears it from you,” Garth said, the threat obvious. “If it comes from someone else, it could break her heart. Or worse.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Nick told him, then started for the door.

Garth called him back. “You’re going to regret this. We’re like brothers, Nick. We always have been. Don’t give that up because of a woman.”

“Izzy isn’t a part of this, but you can’t understand that. And that’s why I’m walking away.”

IZZY FULLY EXPECTED to confront Nick after her sisters left, but he disappeared and being nearly blind meant a serious handicap on her part when trying to search a large open area, like a ranch. Then at dinner, Aaron upset her whole day by telling her that three kids were coming to visit for the Labor Day weekend.

“It’s Labor Day already?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind. What kind of kids? What if they don’t like me? What if I mess up?”

“Did you count the number of I’s in that sentence, young lady?” Aaron asked. “Who should this conversation be about?”

“The kids. I know, the kids. What was I thinking?”

But she wasn’t thinking. She found herself oddly nervous at the thought of dealing with kids who had issues.

“What kind of issues?” she asked. “Like physical handicaps?”

“Not usually. We don’t have any special facilities for wheelchairs or kids on crutches. Mostly we get kids who have been through something really tough.” He sounded uncharacteristically subdued.

“Like?”

“Like we’re not supposed to know. We get a general outline of the issues so we don’t schedule fireworks for a child who’s lived through a gunfight, but nothing specific. Two of the kids have been here before, though, so I know their story. Their mom shot their dad and then killed herself. They were in the room when it happened. The old man had been beating them for years, but still.”

Izzy pushed away her plate as her stomach got queasy. Where was Nick? Hearing this would be slightly easier if he was around.

“What are we supposed to do for them?” she asked.

“Let them get away from their regular lives. They ride horses, walk the rope bridge. They get to play and run without anyone pointing.”

“I could point, I just wouldn’t know the right direction,” Izzy murmured. “What if I mess up?”

“You won’t. You’re a nice person.” He sounded way too cheerful as he spoke.

“What does that mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

Aaron sighed. “We’re getting a difficult case. Her name is Heidi. She’s twelve. Two years ago, her uncle raped her and then set her on fire, trying to kill her so she wouldn’t tell on him.”

Izzy’s dinner did a slow, uncomfortable turn in her belly. “I read about that in the paper. The uncle was arrested then killed in prison.”

“Sometimes the criminal justice system works,” Aaron told her. “Anyway, Heidi has been through a dozen or so reconstructive surgeries. She’s sarcastic, unfriendly and hates the world. Nick and I thought you’d be great with her.”

“What?”

“We’re not saying you’re like that, but you have some attitude on you. I think you’re young enough for her to relate to without being too young.”

Izzy held up both hands. “I don’t think this is going to work. Shouldn’t we have a professional dealing with her?”

“She has plenty of those. We’re talking a long weekend, girlfriend. You can suck it up for that long. At the end of the day, she’s still burned and you get to be pretty. So manage.”

“Ouch,” Izzy murmured. “That hurt.”

“I’m sorry. Heidi needs help. You need to try. I’m just saying.”

“Okay.” She felt stupid and small, but understood his point.

“You’ll like it,” he said, his voice softening. “Trust me. These kids can break your heart, but in a good way.”

“So why not have them here for more than a long weekend at a time?”

Aaron was quiet for so long, she wondered if he’d left the room.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I’ve tried to talk to Nick about it, but he won’t listen. He says it would be too complicated. We’d need a full-time staff of health care professionals.”

“Is it a money thing?”

“Have you seen Nick’s bank account balance?”

“No.”

“Oh, right. It’s not a money thing.”

“Then what?” she asked before she could stop herself. She knew the reason. It was fear. Fear that he would do more damage than good. Fear that he could destroy even more. Because he hadn’t forgiven himself. He probably never would.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” Aaron told her.

“Sure,” she said, knowing she didn’t have to.

IZZY PACED NERVOUSLY outside the barn. She and Rita had discussed the best choices for horses for the kids. The two who had been on the ranch before had some experience, but as far as Izzy could tell, Heidi had never been on a horse. Izzy felt that Flower was the right mount. An even-tempered mare with a maternal streak, Flower was patient and gentle with the most skittish of riders, but she had plenty of speed for a good, long ride.

“They’re here,” Rita said, seconds before Izzy heard the SUV approaching.

“You’re good,” Izzy murmured and wiped her hands on her jeans. Everything would be fine, she told herself. This wasn’t a big deal. Kids loved horses. Her fears that she would say or do something so wrong as to damage Heidi was an inflation of her importance in the girl’s life. Which sounded good but didn’t take away the knot in her stomach.

She turned toward the sound of running feet and saw two blurry shapes hurrying toward them. Rita hugged both kids and introduced Izzy.

“Are we going riding soon?” the girl, Emily, asked.

“Very soon,” Rita promised.

“Where’s Heidi?” Izzy asked.

“She’s scared,” Ned, Emily’s brother, said. “She looked like she was going to cry the whole way here.”

“New places can be confusing,” Izzy said as she walked toward the SUV. She could see Nick unloading luggage. As she approached, a tall girl climbed out of the car.

“You must be Heidi,” Izzy said cheerfully. “Hi. Nice to meet you. Do you want to get settled or would you like to come meet your horse for the weekend? Flower is very excited about all the riding we’re going to do.”

There was something odd about the girl’s posture. She was bent over, as if…

The burns, Izzy thought, mentally slapping herself. She was hiding her face.

“I’d rather go to my room,” Heidi whispered.

“Okay. I’ll show you the way.” She pointed at the suitcases. “Which one is yours?”

“The green one.”

Which was less helpful, Izzy thought as she stared at the dark-colored luggage. Nick handed her one. She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Izzy took the suitcase and led the way inside. As there were only three guests, all the kids were sleeping in the main house. She went up the stairs and walked into the bright, cheery bedroom Norma and Aaron had prepared.

“Here you go,” Izzy told Heidi. “You have your own bathroom, which is pretty cool. I hate sharing a bathroom. Even with my sisters. I should probably get over that, I know, but here it’s not an issue. Now do you want to unpack first or come meet Flower?”

“I don’t want to meet a stupid horse. I’m only here because my doctor said I had to come. I’m going to stay in my room and read until it’s time to go home. You can go now.”

Izzy dropped the suitcase and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, really. Because you think you’re in charge?”

“No. Not really.” Heidi took a step back. “I, um, don’t like horses.”

So the bravado had serious limits. Good to know. Izzy wasn’t sure what to say or the best way to deal with the situation. They only had three days, which meant she couldn’t outwait Heidi.

“How many horses have you met?”

Heidi cleared her throat and hunched over. “Not many.”

“As in none?”

“Yes.” The word was barely audible.

“Okay, then you’re going to meet Flower because she’s really nice. I think you’ll get along. But if I’m wrong, we’ll renegotiate. Sound fair?”

She took the heavy sigh as a yes and motioned for Heidi to follow her out of the house.

Minutes later they were in Flower’s stall.

“Flower, this is Heidi,” Izzy said as she patted the mare’s neck. “It’s okay, Heidi. Flower’s a sweetie. She won’t hurt you.”

But Heidi stood in the doorway, unmoving, not speaking. Izzy couldn’t read her expression so she wasn’t sure what was wrong.

“Don’t you want to pat her?”

“No.”

“But you’re a girl. Girls love horses.”

“Not me. She’s too big. She’ll bite me. Or worse.”

“I see,” Izzy said. “Wait here.”

Seconds later she was back with one of the barn cats in her arms. “This is Alfredo. Are you good with cats?”

“I like cats.” Heidi moved toward her and gently stroked Alfredo. “He’s small.”

“He’s still a kitten. He was born here in the barn. Now I think you’re bigger than Alfredo.”

Heidi actually giggled. “Well, yeah. He’s a cat.”

“Good. Now remember that.” Izzy put Alfredo down.

“What are you doing?” Heidi shrieked. “He’ll be killed.”

“He’ll be fine. Horses and cats usually get along. Watch.”

Izzy couldn’t see very much, but she’d grown up around barn cats and horses. She knew that Alfredo would be fearless in the stall. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Heidi gasped.

“Flower likes him. She’s kind of petting him with her nose. He’s drinking her water.”

“Really? So maybe now you’re not so afraid of Flower?”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to ride her. It’s too high. What if I fall?”

“Then you lie on the ground feeling stupid. Trust me, I’ve done it a thousand times.”

“I’m not riding. Why do you care if I ride?” Heidi’s voice rose with her words until she was practically shouting.

“Because you can’t be afraid all the time. Because you need to learn how to live again and this is a start.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never been set on fire. You can’t know what I go through every day. Don’t talk to me about being afraid. You don’t know anything.”

Izzy blocked the doorway, so Heidi couldn’t get past her and Izzy had no plans to move. She felt bad about the girl’s quiet crying, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“I was in an explosion,” she said. “Does that count?”

There was a sniff, then, “What do you mean?”

“I was on an oil rig that exploded. I don’t remember what happened, mostly because I was busy being tossed up in the air, falling through fire and then landing in the water. I could have drowned. Huh. I never thought of that before. Anyway, I was in the explosion. I had a few cuts and bruises but the big thing is I’m blind. Well, I have thirty percent of my sight, which is pretty darned close.”

“You’re not blind.”

Izzy laughed. “Tell that to my doctor.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t matter. I get around, but I can’t read or drive.”

Heidi moved closer. “You can’t see me?”

“I can see your shape and the light and dark of colors. Not details.”

“So you don’t know what my face looks like.”

“No. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

As soon as she asked the question, Izzy wanted to shoot herself. What a stupid thing to say. And here it had only been what? Twenty minutes?

“I’m hideous,” Heidi said, turning away. “A freak. Children run screaming when they see me.”

“So basically you never have to wait in line when you go to Disneyland.”

For the second time in as many minutes Izzy spoke without thinking. But before she could bang her head into the side of the stall, she heard a faint giggle. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s not funny,” Heidi said, even as she giggled harder.

“You’re the one laughing, not me.”

“I know.” She cleared her throat, then chuckled again. “No one talks about how I look except my surgeon and his staff. And my therapist. We’re all supposed to pretend I’m normal.”

“Is that bad?”

“I don’t know. I’m not normal. I’ve had so many surgeries and I’m going to have more. I get scared because it hurts and I just want to be like everyone else.”

“Not an option, kid. Sorry. You’re going to have to be yourself. But you know what? That’s not so bad.”

“That’s what my mom says.”

Izzy winced. “So you’re saying I’m old and mom-like? I’m crushed.”

Heidi laughed again, then stepped toward Flower and patted her neck. “You’re funny.”

“Gee, thanks.”

A loud bell sounded.