“I don’t know anything,” Brynnie responded as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Mascara ran down her cheeks despite her best efforts. “The paramedics seem to think it was just heatstroke, but the doctors are running tests anyway. Oh, Lordy, Bliss, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose that man. I’ve loved him so long, and now . . . now that we finally have the chance to be together, he might . . .” She dissolved into tears, and Bliss, unable to resist, wrapped her arms around the older woman as Brynnie sobbed in earnest.

For all her faults, Brynnie did seem to love John Cawthorne, and Bliss had trouble disliking a woman who cared so deeply.

“I should never have sold part of the ranch to Mason. I thought it would help, but it backfired on me. John will never forgive me.”

“Sure, he will. Mason says he’ll sell it back to you.”

“I know, I know, but I’m afraid it’s too late. John will never trust me again.”

“Shh. You don’t know that.”

“Where is Mason?”

“He had to check on Dee Dee, but he said he’ll be back soon.”

“He’s a good man, Bliss. No matter what your father says.”

“I know.”

People came and went as the minutes ticked by. After nearly half an hour, Mason returned with his daughter in tow. She looked small and frail beside him; her eyes were wide, wary, and stared at Bliss as if she were some kind of oddity.

Mason guided his daughter to a chair by the windows where potted plants were growing in profusion and a rack of well-used magazines was propped against a post. After one last suspicious glance cast in Bliss’s direction she dug into her oversize bag and drug out a thin paperback novel. Mason nodded at Bliss, but stayed near his young charge.

“What’s taking so long?” Brynnie asked, gnawing on her lower lip.

“Don’t worry. It always takes a while. Dad will be fine,” Bliss assured the older woman, all the while wishing she could believe her own words and aware of Mason’s gaze boring into her. “He wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

Brynnie laughed despite her tears and blew her nose so loudly she woke a baby who was sleeping in his mother’s arms in a nearby chair. The mother smoothed the baby’s curls and softly hummed a lullaby to quiet the child who nestled even closer and sighed as his eyelids drooped again. Bliss looked away from the tender scene. Ever since returning to Bittersweet it seemed that everywhere she went she was faced with shining examples of motherhood and was constantly being reminded of her own childless state.