“What about your brother? He’s the one who said he knew me, but I can’t place him.”

“Daniel knows everybody in town. And people remember him—not just because he’s friendly, but because he has Down syndrome.”

The description clicked. “Oh, sure, I know who he is. He works at Shop Mart. Great kid. So he’s your brother?”

“He is, and I agree, he’s a great young man. He holds down a job and helps Mom a lot, too. He and I are the only children in our family.”

As she spoke, Megan felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Her family could use her help, too. That was why she’d arranged for a substitute teacher and given up two weeks’ salary to come home early this year. She did contribute money to her mother’s care. Still, it wasn’t the same as being here full time. She could always move to Branding Iron—her father had mentioned that teachers were in high demand. But leaving Nashville would mean giving up her dream, just when good things were beginning to happen.

“My street’s just ahead,” she said. “Is there someone I can call to get my car towed back onto the road?”

“You’re looking at him,” Conner said. “There’s a garage in town, but in this weather, the owner is liable to be busy. You’d most likely have to wait. But I can come first thing tomorrow, with a tow chain. If that plan works for you, I can pick you up at your house. We’ll pull your car out of the ditch, and you can drive it home.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure. That’s what small towns are all about, neighbor helping neighbor.” He turned the truck onto her street. “The highway should be plowed by nine. Is that too early for you?”

“I’m a teacher. It’s fine. And that’s our house on your right—the blue one with the porch light on.”

Conner pulled into the driveway and stopped. Howling wind swirled snow around the truck. Snowflakes peppered Megan’s face like buckshot as she climbed to the ground, closed the door behind her, and staggered, head down, toward the porch. Conner followed with her two suitcases.

Megan’s father, Ed, tall and spare, with thinning hair and glasses, had come out onto the porch. He gave her a brief welcoming hug. “Thank God you’re safe,” he said, then turned to take the luggage from Conner. “And thank you for bringing her home. Won’t you come in? There’s hot cocoa on the stove.”

“Thanks,” Conner said, “I was glad to help. But I’d better head home before the roads get worse. See you tomorrow, Megan.” He strode back to the truck, snow flying around him.