She was home. If only for a short time.

For fifteen years she'd lived in the Seattle, Washington, area. She'd grown to love it there. She loved the richgreen landscape, the mountains, the bay. Snow skiing. Water skiing. The Mariners. So many things.

But Daisy Lee was a Texan. In her heart and in her blood. In her DNA, likelier blond hair. Likelier birthmark inthe shape of a little love bite on the top of her left breast. And like her love bite, Lovett hadn't changed in thepast fifteen years. The population had grown by several hundred; there were a few new businesses and one newgrade school. The town had recently added an eighteen-hole golf course and a country club to its landscape, butunlike the rest of the country, and more urban Texas, Lovett still moved at its own laid-back pace.

Daisy gazed into the shadows of her mother's backyard. The outline of the five-foot windmill, an Annie Oakleystatue, and a dozen or so flamingos were etched in black. Growing up, her mother's taste in exterior decor hadbeen a constant source of embarrassment for her and her younger sister, Lily. Now the parade of flamingosbrought a smile to her lips.

She took a drink of coffee, then she sat on the top concrete step next to a stone armadillo with several babiesstacked on its back. Daisy hadn't slept well the night before. Her eyes felt puffy and her mind sluggish. Sheshivered and set the mug on her knee. Before she'd seen Jack last night, her plan had been so clear. She'd cometo Lovett, intending to visit with her mother and sister for a few days, then talk to Jack and tell him aboutNathan. All within twelve days. Which, until last night, she'd figured would be plenty of time.

She'd known it would be difficult, but clear-cut. She and Steven had talked about it before he'd passed. In herpocket, she still had the letter Steven had written before he'd lost the ability to read and write. When he'daccepted that he would die, that there would be no cure for him, no more experimental drugs to take, no moreradical surgeries to try, he'd wanted to make things right with the people he'd felt he'd wronged in his life. Oneof those people was Jack. At first he'd thought to send the letter, but the more the two of them talked about it,the more they'd concluded that it should be delivered in person. By her. Because ultimately, she was the onewho had to deal with Jack Parrish, and she was the one who'd wronged him most.

They'd never really meant to keep Nathan a secret from him. Her mother knew. So did her sister. Nathan knewtoo. He'd always known that he had a biological father named Jackson who lived in Lovett, Texas. They'd toldhim as soon as he'd been capable of understanding, but he'd never expressed any interest in meeting Jack.

Steven had always been enough father for him.

It was time. Perhaps past time that she told Jack he had a son. A moan escaped her lips and she took a sip ofcoffee. A fifteen-year-old son with a pickle green Mohawk, a pierced lip, and so many dog chains hanging offhim he looked liked he'd broken into the animal shelter.

Nathan had had such a hard time these past two and a half years. When Steven was diagnosed, he'd been givenfive months to live. He'd lasted almost two years, but it hadn't been an easy two years. Watching Steven fight tolive had been hard on her, but it had been hell oil Nathan. And she hated to admit it, but there had been timeswhen she hadn't been at all attentive to her son. Some nights, she hadn't even known he was gone until he'dreturned. He'd walk in the door and she'd scold him for not telling her where he'd gone. He'd look at her throughthose clear blue eyes of his and say, "I told you I was going to Pete's. You said I could." And she'd have toadmit to herself that it was entirely possible that he'd told her, hut she'd been focused on Steven's medication orhis next surgery - or perhaps that had been the day when Steven lost his ability to use a calculator, drive a car,or tie his shoes. Watching her husband struggle to maintain his dignity while trying to recall a simple task he'dbeen performing since he was four or five had been heartbreaking. There were times when she'd simplyforgotten whole blocks of conversations with Nathan.

The day Nathan had walked in the house with that Mohawk had been a real wake-up call for her. Suddenly, hewas no longer the little boy who played soccer, loved football, and watched "Nickelodeon" curled up on thecouch with his special blanket. It hadn't been the color of his hair that had alarmed her most. It had been the lostlook in his eyes. His empty, lost gaze had shocked her out of the depression and grief she hadn't even knownshe'd fallen into for almost seven months following Steven's passing.

Steven was gone. She and Nathan would always feel his loss, like a missing part of their souls. He'd been herbest friend and a good man. He'd been a buffer, a comfort, someone who made her life better. Easier. He'd beena loving husband and father.

She and Nathan would never forget him, but she could not continue to live in the past. She had to live in thepresent and begin to look toward the future. For Nathan, and for herself. But in order for her to move forward,she had to take care of her past. She had to quit hiding from it.

Fingers of morning sun crept into the backyard and sparkled in the dew-covered lawn. The early sun cast longpatterns in the wet grass, crept up the windmill, and shot sparks off the up of Annie Oakley's silver rifle. Daisywished she had her Nikon and wide-angle lens on her. It was up in her room, and she knew if she ran up to getit, she'd miss the shot and the rising sun. Within seconds, dawn broke over Daisy's feet, legs and face; sheclosed her eyes and soaked it all in.

Living in the Northwest, Daisy had lost most of her accent, but she'd never lost her love of wide-open spacesand the huge blue sky stretching across the horizon in unbroken lines. She opened her eyes and wished Stevenwere here to see it. He would have loved it as much as she did.

Daisy looked down at the rubber garden clogs on her feet. She wished for a lot of things. Like more time beforeshe had to confront Jack again. She was in no hurry to see the anger in his face. She'd known that he would notwelcome her back with open arms, but she was surprised that after all of these years, he clearly hated her asmuch as he had the last time she'd seen him.

You call this ugly? he'd said. This is nothing, buttercup. Stick around and I'll show you how ugly I can get.

She wondered if Jack had realized he'd called her buttercup. His old name for her. The name he'd first called heron her first day at Lovett Elementary.

She remembered being nervous and scared on that day, so long ago. She'd been afraid no one would like her,and she'd suspected that the big red bow clipped to the top of her head looked stupid. Her mother had pulled itoff the handle of a Welcome Wagon basket filled with coupons, a recipe hook, and Wick Fowler's chili kit.

Daisy hadn't wanted to wear the bow; but her mother had insisted that it looked good and matched her dress.

All that first morning, no one had spoken to her. By lunch, she'd become so upset, she was unable to eat hercheese yum-yum sandwich. Finally; during recess, Steven and Jack walked up to where she stood with her backagainst the chain link fence.

"What's your name?" Jack had asked.

She'd looked into those green eyes of his, surrounded by long black lashes, and she'd smiled. Finally someonewas talking to her, and her little heart leapt with joy. "Daisy Lee Brooks."

He'd rocked back on the heels of his boots as he looked her up and down. "Well, buttercup, that's the stupidesthair how I ever did see," he'd drawled, then he and Steven howled with laughter.

Hearing that the bow was stupid confirmed her worst fears, and the backs of her eyes started to sting. "Yeah,well y'all are so stupid you have to take off your shoes to count," she'd responded, proud that she stood up forherself. Then she'd ruined everything by bursting into tears.

The memory of that day brought a sad smile to her face. She'd vowed to hate those two boys as long as shelived. It lasted until Jack had asked her to play on their softball team, three weeks later. It was Steven whoshowed her how to play second base without getting hit in the face with the ball.

At first, Jack had called her buttercup to tease her, but years later, he'd whispered it as he kissed the side of herthroat. His voice would go all dark while he discovered whole new ways to tease her. There had been a timewhen just the memory of his kiss had sent a warm shudder through her chest, but she hadn't felt anything warmand tingly for him in years.

She thought of how he'd looked last night, half naked and fully ticked off. His lids lowered over his sexy greeneyes, and that sardonic curl of his lips. He'd grown even more handsome than the last time she'd seen him, butDaisy was older and wiser and no longer tempted by good looks and bad attitudes.

Nathan didn't resemble Jack much. Except maybe the attitude part. He was staying with Steven's sister in Seattlewhile Daisy was in Lovett, but he knew the reason behind her trip. She'd learned her lesson about lies, no matterhow well intentioned, and she never lied to Nathan. But she had purposely chosen his last week of ninth gradeto make the trip so he couldn't come along. She didn't know what Jack's reaction would be once she told himabout Nathan. She didn't think he would be cruel, not to Nathan anyway, hut she wasn't certain. She didn't wantNathan here if Jack got truly ugly. Nathan had had enough pain in his life.

From inside the house, she heard her mother moving around. She stood and walked back inside.

"Good morning," she said as she hung up her coat. The warm scent of her mother's kitchen filled her nose. Thesmell of baked bread and home-cooked comfort food surrounded her like a familiar blanket. "I watched the suncome up, and it was absolutely "gorgeous." She kicked off the garden clogs and looked over at her mother, whowas stirring cream into her coffee. Louella Brooks wore a blue nylon nightgown, and her blond hair was piledon top of her head like cotton candy.