"You started it," Jared remembered. "Swiped my baseball and lost it in the cornfield."

"I borrowed your baseball," Shane told him. "And Devin lost it in the field."

"Rafe lost it," Devin said mildly. "He was supposed to catch it."

"You hit it wide. Pulled it," Rafe explained in disgust. "He could never pick his spot."

"Hell I couldn't."

Before Devin could take the argument any further, Regan held up her hands. "Time-out. I believe, with this obvious example of family solidarity, it's an excellent time to make an announcement." She smiled at Rafe. "Don't you think?"

"I think." Rafe took her hand, brought it to his lips before pulling her close. His grin was quick as lightning. "We're having a baby."

There was a moment of utter silence before the explosion. There was a quick whoop from Shane, who took it upon himself to scoop Regan off her feet. She had to be kissed, Rafe had to be punched and pummeled.

"Give me my wife," Rafe demanded.

"In a minute." Shane kissed her again, heartily, then started to pass her to Rafe. Jared intercepted, gave her a quick swing. Regan was still laughing when she found herself in Devin's arms.

"Damn it, give me my woman."

As they tussled and argued over the expectant mother, Savannah leaned back against the counter. "The MacKades—the next generation," she murmured to Cassie. "Scary thought."

"She'll handle it." Cassie blinked back tears. "She can handle anything."

Because everyone else was busy, she scooted over to check on the pot roast herself.

Savannah stepped forward, leaned in to kiss Jared on the cheek. "Congratulations, Uncle Jare."

He couldn't stop grinning. "Rafe's going to be a daddy."

With one brow arched, Savannah glanced over to where Regan was still being passed from brother to brother. "And this, I take it, is the way you guys celebrate—tossing women around."

"We don't have a precedent. It's our first baby."

When he swung an arm around her shoulders, Savannah realized he'd just said it all. It would be a MacKade baby, and would belong to all of them.

It was something she thought about quite a bit as the celebration continued through dinner with constant, and often ridiculous, suggestions for child care, baby names and fatherly duties. It was odd for her to fully realize now, when she was finally settled into a home of her own, finally confident that Bryan had the best she could give him, that neither of them had ever known the fullness of family.

They had each other, and that was important. Vital. He was a happy, well-adjusted child. She could see that as he sat beside her, shoveling in food, giggling at Shane's idea of Lulubelle MacKade if the baby was a girl. There was no doubt in her heart that her son was exactly as he should be.

And yet.

He had never known the joy, or the problems, of having uncles, aunts, grandparents. Siblings. Those were things she couldn't give him. She hoped it was only she who had suddenly come to sense the lack.

"Are you feeling all right, Regan?" Cassie's voice was quiet amid the chaos of male-dominated conversation.

"Wonderful. I don't think I've ever felt better. No queasiness, no fatigue, not any of the things the books warn us about."

"I had them all." Running an absent hand over Emma's curls, Cassie smiled. "Not too bad, really, just enough so that when it came around the second time I knew what to expect. How about you, Savannah?"

"Sick as a dog for three months." Before Bryan could reach over her plate, she passed him the bowl of roast potatoes he'd aimed for. "It was almost worth it, though." She winked at Bryan.

"Three months?" Regan gave a heartfelt shudder. "Every day?"

"Rain or shine," Savannah said cheerfully. "Bry, if you opened your mouth just a little wider, you could probably fit three potatoes in at once."

He managed a sloppy grin with a full mouth. "It's good."

"Just like Mom used to make," Devin put in, and heaped another helping of potatoes on Bryan's plate. "We used to have contests to see who could eat more of them. Jared usually won—right, Jare?"

"Yeah." But he'd stopped eating, and he was looking at Savannah oddly.

"The kid's going to break your record." Shane tossed a biscuit that Jared was just quick enough to catch.

Intrigued with the maneuver, Bryan snatched one and aimed it at Connor, who nabbed it before it hit the floor.

"Good save," Rafe commented. "Sign him up. You gonna play ball next year, Con?"

"I don't know." Connor broke off an end of the biscuit and shot a look at his mother under his lashes.

"Con's a better pitcher than any of our starters." Bryan cheerfully helped himself to another biscuit and buttered it lavishly. "He can drill it right in the pocket."

"Connor, you never said you wanted to play ball." The moment the words were out of Cassie's mouth, she regretted them. Of course he'd said nothing. There had never been anyone to play ball with him. And his academic achievements had equaled failure as a man, in his father's opinion.

"I can't hit hardly anything," Connor mumbled, reddening. "I can just throw a little since Bryan's been showing me how."

"We'll have to work on your batting." Devin spoke casually. "After dinner, we could start on your stance."

Connor's lips fluttered into a smile, and that was answer enough.

A short time later, the sounds of shouts and arguments rolled in from the barnyard and into the kitchen window. With her hands filled with dishes, Cassie looked out. Devin was crouched behind Connor, and their hands were meshed on a wooden bat as Jared threw underhand pitches.

"It's awfully nice of them to play with the kids like this."

"And leave us stuck with the dishes," Savannah pointed out.

"He who cooks doesn't clean." Regan filled the sink with hot water. "MacKade rules."

"It's fair enough," Savannah allowed. But as she glanced around the cluttered, disordered kitchen, with its piles of pots and mountains of dishes, she wasn't sure who'd come out on top of the deal.

"Do you mind if I ask..." Regan caught herself, laughed nervously. "It's stupid."

Savannah grabbed a dishcloth and prepared to dig in. "What?"

"Well." Brows knit, Regan attacked the first plates. "I was just wondering, since you've both been through it, what it's like. The big guns, I mean."

Savannah glanced at Cassie and grinned wickedly. "Labor and delivery, or a march through the Valley of Death."

"Oh, it's not that bad. Don't scare her." Immediately solicitous, Cassie set down stacked plates to rub Regan's shoulder. "Really it's not."

"You want to tell her it's a walk on the beach?" Savannah asked. "Then she can curse you and Rafe during transition."

"It's a natural part of life," Cassie insisted, then struggled with a chuckle. "That hurts like hell."

"Sorry I asked." But Regan blew out a breath when she realized she couldn't let it go. "So, how long did it take?"

"For Connor, just over twelve hours, for Emma less than ten."

"In other words," Savanna put in helpfully, "the rest of your life."

"I'd tell you to shut up, but I want to know how long it took you." Regan wrinkled her nose. "Ten minutes, right?"

Savannah picked up a dish. "Thirty-two fun-filled hours."

"Thirty-two?" Stunned, Regan nearly bobbled a wet plate. "That's inhuman."

"The luck of the draw," Savannah said lightly. "And the maternity ward I was in wasn't exactly first-class. Wouldn't have mattered." She shrugged it off. "Babies come when they come. You'll get through it fine, Regan. Rafe'll be right there. And unless your doctor has a line of pro-football blockers holding them off, the rest of the MacKades will be there, too."

"You were alone," Regan murmured.

"That's the way it shook down." She glanced over when she spotted Jared at the screen door. "Game over?"

"No." His eyes stayed on hers, unreadable and deep. "I lost the draw to fetch beer."

"I'll get it." Cassie was already hurrying to the fridge. "Do the kids want anything?"

"Whatever they can get." He took the six-pack and boxes of juice Cassie handed him, then left without another word.

"No quicker way to get rid of a man than for women to talk about childbirth." Savannah's voice was light, but there was a knot of worry at the back of her neck. Something had been in those eyes, she thought, that he hadn't wanted her to see.

"I mentioned Lamaze classes to Rafe, and he went dead white." Amused, Regan slipped another dish in the drainer. "But then he gritted his teeth."

"He'll do fine." With a last glance at the screen door, Savannah picked up another plate. "He loves you. That's the big one, isn't it?"

"Yeah." With a dreamy little sigh, Regan plunged into the dishwater again. "That's the big one."

On the walk home, Savannah spied her first firefly glinting in the woods. Summer was coming, she thought, watching Bryan dart ahead, charging invisible foes. She wanted it to come. She wanted the heat, the long, hazy days, the close, airless nights.

What she wanted, Savannah realized, was the passing of time. A full year, four full seasons, in this place. In this home. With this man.

"Something's on your mind?" she said quietly.

"I've got a lot on my mind." Jared wished they could stay in the woods for a time. Stay where they could both feel the sorrows and needs of people who had died before either of them were born. "Couple of cases driving me crazy. Painters cluttering up the office. Finalizing Cassie's divorce. Contemplating becoming an uncle."

"You're being a lawyer, MacKade, using words to cloud the basics."

"I am a lawyer."

"Okay, let's start there. Hold on a minute. Bry, hit the tub," she called out.

"Aw, Mom..."

"And hit it hard, Ace. I'm right behind you."

He raced ahead, and from the edge of the woods Savannah watched the lights switch on one by one as Bryan streaked through the house. Through the open window, she could hear him singing, miserably off-key, and was satisfied that he was in his bathtime mode.

"Why are you a lawyer?"

The question stumped him, mainly because his mind was so far removed from it. "Why am I a lawyer?"

"And try to answer in twenty thousand words or less."

"Because I like it." The first answer was the simplest. "I like figuring out the best arguments, wading through and studying both sides until I find the right arguments. I like winning." He moved his shoulders. "And because justice is important. The system of justice, however flawed, is vital. We're nothing without it."

"So, you believe in justice, and you like to argue and win." She tilted her head at him. "Which puts all of that into one sentence. See how easy it is?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that you also like to complicate things." She touched a hand to his cheek. "What are you complicating now, Jared?"

"Nothing." Because he needed to, he took her wrist and pressed his lips into her palm. "I'm not complicating a thing. I liked having you at the farm, you and Bryan. Crowded around the kitchen table, with too many people talking at once."

"And throwing biscuits."

"And throwing biscuits. I liked hearing you and Regan and Cassie clattering around the kitchen while we were playing ball outside."

"Typical." She smiled a little. "You'd say traditional male-female placement."

"Sue me." He gathered her close. And there, in the quiet, he thought he could hear the struggle. Stranger against stranger, hand to hand, eternally. Right, perhaps, against right. "Feel it?" he murmured.

"Yes." Fear, she thought, closing her eyes. Desperation. And constant bleeding hope. Perhaps she could feel the echoes of it in the woods because she'd known all those emotions so well. "Have you ever asked yourself why they're still here? What they might have left to say or do?"

"The fight's not over. It never is."

She shook her head. "The need's not over. The need to find home. To find peace, I suppose. It never is. But I'm finding it here."

When she started to draw back, he tightened his grip. "I listened outside the door to the three of you talking in the kitchen. It bothered me, Savannah, hearing about you being alone when you had Bryan. It bothered me imagining that, the way it bothered me when you said you'd been sick all that time."

"Morning sickness is pretty common among pregnant women."

"Being sixteen, alone, sick and pregnant isn't common. It sure as hell shouldn't be."

"Feeling sorry for me is a waste of time. It was a long time ago." Now she did draw back, and she saw his face. "But that's not exactly what you're feeling."