“It’s a bit scary the way they arrive with their own distinct personalities. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought I’d have more of an influence in molding Dan’s character but after six months of motherhood, I’m already wondering if parents have any say in their children’s personality.”

Karen’s gut churned. “Of course we have a say. We must have a say!”

Hilary blinked, momentarily startled by the emphatic response. “Let’s hope you’re right and I’m wrong, because right now, Dan thinks all he has to do in life is bat his baby blues and everyone will drop everything and come running.” She turned her attention to the second twin. “And who’s this cutie?”

“Alice. She’s our precious surprise.” Unlike Libby, Alice didn’t stir, although her eyes roved under her almost translucent lids.

Hilary glanced at Karen; unasked questions clear in her eyes. “She’s a lot smaller than her sister.”

“Yes.” Karen left it at that as a familiar guilt pulled tightly around her. It was her fault Alice had failed to thrive.

The pediatrician’s words were never far away: “With such a low birth weight, there’s a high risk of developmental delay.”

“Do you mean brain damage?” Her husband, Peter had asked the question Karen had been too scared to voice.

“I’m constantly surprised by the remarkable resilience of the human body,” the doctor said. “The fact Alice is alive is a miracle in itself. The best thing you can do is take her home and love her.”

Karen slipped her finger against Alice’s palm, welcoming the tight and reassuring grip of her tiny hand. Once again, she silently made the promise she’d made each day for weeks.

I’ll make things better, Alice. I’ll keep you safe and protect you. Always.

Chapter One

January

Alice Hunter sneezed into her shoulder three times and then, despite the warm summer day, shivered. It was a sure sign she was sick. These were the moments when she missed being a kid.

When she was growing up, her mother had strict rules about illness and one of Karen’s favorite sayings had been, “If you can stand and argue with me about going to school, you’re well enough to go.” Many times, Alice had reluctantly stuffed her bag with books and stomped out the door. But whenever Alice had spiked a temperature, Karen had always tucked her up in bed and fed her chicken soup.

“Table seven.” Jake, the chef and owner of the restaurant, slid hot plates onto the pass-through and frowned. “You look like crap. Don’t give whatever it is to the customers.”

“Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking you might make me some immune boosting soup.”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you work a double shift.”