Acts of Valor Box Set (Books 1 to 3): Christian Romantic Suspense: Includes Bonus Novella Lord of the Dance

By Rebecca Hartt

Immerse yourself in a world of wholesome, clean romance and gripping suspense with the first three heart-stirring novels by Rebecca Hartt. This collection is a captivating journey of freedom, love, and redemption, featuring the courageous Navy SEALs of the Acts of Valor series.

Exclusive Bonus Novella – Lord of the Dance
Included in this box set is an exclusive bonus novella, "Lord of the Dance." Join Nina Aydin, a woman sworn to never remarry, as she desperately longs for a baby. Caught in her gaze is Santiago Rivera, the mesmerizing Master Chief of SEAL Team 6. Santiago yearns to have Nina in his life, but his faith insists on love and marriage before starting a family. As he receives a clear message from God to follow the traditional path, he risks losing Nina forever. Will they find a way to bridge the gap between their desires and the will of God?

Book 1 – Returning to Eden
Meet Navy SEAL Jonah Mills, a man diagnosed with PTSD and amnesia. He has no memory of his fractured marriage to Eden or her fourteen-year-old daughter, yet he feels an undeniable connection to both. Unfit for active duty, Jonah embarks on a journey of healing, relying on God to mend his mind, body, and family. As the secrets of the past unravel, can Jonah find redemption and rebuild what was lost?

Book 2 – Every Secret Thing
Join Navy SEAL Lt. Lucas Strong fights to prove the innocence of his platoon leader, Lt. Mills. With the belief that Charlotte Patterson, a gutsy NCIS intern, holds vital information, Lucas is determined to find her and bring her to safety. Charlotte, rescued by her real-life hero, is more than willing to help Lt. Mills. However, her memory is fading fast, and Lucas's unyielding faith that God has a master plan puts them both in peril. As their connection deepens, Charlotte's only prayer is that Lucas's unwavering trust is justified.

Book 3 – Cry in the Wilderness
Witness the remarkable journey of legendary Navy SEAL Saul Wade. Returning to his childhood ranch in Oklahoma, Saul must confront his tragic past. But when he crosses paths with Rachel LeMere, a woman he barely knows, and her son, he finds himself entangled in a dangerous mission. Bound by honor, Saul risks his entire career to help them escape to a new life. In the process, he discovers the power of forgiveness, healing, and the true meaning of love, guided by God's grace. Will Saul find a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to embrace life again?

Rebecca Hartt's skillful storytelling will transport you into a world where love and adventure intertwine with a higher calling. Don't miss this opportunity to embark on an unforgettable journey with the brave men and women who face life's trials with unwavering faith. Get your copy of the Acts of Valor Box Set today and be captivated by these powerful tales of love and redemption.

The Acts of Valor Series
Returning to Eden
Every Secret Thing
Cry in the Wilderness
Rising From Ashes
Braving the Valley
All Things Together


Rebecca Hartt is the nom de plume for an award-winning, best-selling author of a different name who, compelled by her faith, decided to spin suspenseful military romance where God plays a vital role in character motivation and plot.
As a child, Rebecca lived in countries all over the world. She has been a military dependent for most of her life and knows first-hand the dedication and sacrifice required by those who serve.
Living near the military community of Virginia Beach, Rebecca is constantly reminded of the peril and uncertainty faced by U.S. Navy SEALs, many of whom testify to a personal and profound connection with their Creator.
Their loved ones, too, rely on God for strength and comfort. These men of courage and women of faith are the subjects of Rebecca Hartt’s enthusiastically received Acts of Valor romantic suspense series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rise UP Publications
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644576403

Rebecca Hartt

Rebecca Hartt is the nom de plume for an award-winning, best-selling author of a different name who, compelled by her faith, decided to spin suspenseful military romance where God plays a vital role in character motivation and plot. As a child, Rebecca lived in countries all over the world. She has been a military dependent for most of her life and knows first-hand the dedication and sacrifice required by those who serve. Living near the military community of Virginia Beach, Rebecca is constantly reminded of the peril and uncertainty faced by U.S. Navy SEALs, many of whom testify to a personal and profound connection with their Creator. Their loved ones, too, rely on God for strength and comfort. These men of courage and women of faith are the subjects of Rebecca Hartt’s enthusiastically received Acts of Valor romantic suspense series. ed Acts of Valor romantic suspense series.

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Acts of Valor Box Set (Books 1 to 3): Christian Romantic Suspense

ACTS OF VALOR BOX SET (BOOKS 1 TO 3): CHRISTIAN ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

INCLUDES BONUS NOVELLA LORD OF THE DANCE

REBECCA HARTT

Rise UP Publications

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Published by Rise UP Publications

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-644576-40-3

CONTENTS

Lord of the Dance

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Returning to Eden

Foreword

Glossary of Military Acronyms

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Every Secret Thing

Glossary of Military Acronyms

From The Author

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Acknowledgments

Cry in the Wilderness

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Before You Go…

Rising from Ashes

Acknowledgments

Also by Rebecca Hartt

About the Author

LORD OF THE DANCE

A NOVELLA

PROLOGUE

W onderful, Annabelle! Nina praised, smiling down at the eight-year-old who lived in the townhouse next to hers. You’re a natural.

The child’s mother, having learned Nina had studied ballet at Montclair State University and had even danced once at Carnegie Hall, had asked Nina to help her daughter learn the steps for her part in The Nutcracker. With her living room furniture pushed to the walls, Nina and Annabelle danced the same steps, both in ballet slippers and their hair pinned into neat buns.

The child flushed with pleasure while catching her breath. I hope I can dance as good as you one day.

Nina adored Annabelle’s endearing lisp. If you dance every day and take ballet classes, you’ll be better than I am.

Annabelle considered her with skepticism. I don’t think so. You’re really good.

Regret lanced Nina’s heart even as she spared an anxious glance at her watch. She’d been a prima ballerina only a few years ago. Dancing again even on the makeshift stage of her townhouse reminded her how much she loved and missed her craft. Yet Mehmet, her husband of three years, had forbidden her to dance shortly after they were married. What’s more, he would be home from work any minute, expecting a hot dinner.

Thank you, honey, she said to the girl. A wave of affection had her ruffling Annabelle’s shiny hair. If only she had a baby to take her mind off her lost career, but years of dancing—and keeping her weight very low—had robbed her of her woman’s cycle. She and Mehmet had exhausted their attempts to conceive.

Let’s run through the choreography one more time, she suggested, and then I think you’ll be ready for rehearsal on Monday. Hopefully, Mehmet would not walk in on them.

Okay.

As Annabelle assumed her starting stance, Nina reset the music on her cell phone. At Nina’s cue, the girl launched into a sequence of steps, leaps, and pirouettes. Nodding her support, Nina kept time like a conductor while Annabelle went through her routine.

All at once, the front door opened, causing cold November air to gust into the living room. Anxiety tightened Nina’s chest. As Annabelle faltered to a halt, Nina stopped the music to regard her husband warily. Mehmet stood in the doorway, clearly taken aback. His eyes, strangely bloodshot, went from Nina to Annabelle to the out-of-place furniture, and his features visibly hardened.

What’s this? he demanded. Though born in Turkey, he had lived in the States for a decade, making his English nearly flawless.

"I’m helping Annabelle with her choreography for The Nutcracker," Nina explained.

Mehmet raked an insulting look at the dance attire she’d put on—a leotard paired with yoga pants and ballet slippers. We need to talk, he said on a strange note. Send this girl away.

Annabelle didn’t need encouraging. Snatching up her street shoes, she squeezed past Mehmet without a backward glance. Nina was sure she’d hear from the girl’s mother before nightfall.

As Mehmet shut the door firmly behind him, Nina began to push the armchair back into its usual spot.

My father is dead.

Her husband’s unexpected statement brought Nina’s head up. The reason for his bloodshot eyes became suddenly apparent.

I’m so sorry. She approached him to offer comfort. As cruel as he was to her, he had to be heartbroken.

Are you? His scoffing tone conveyed doubt. I think you couldn’t care less about me.

What do you mean? Of course, I care. Guilt nipped at her at the outright lie. It was her duty to love him, but his abusiveness had eradicated the love she once had for him.

He gestured at the room. If you cared, I wouldn’t have to walk in on this mess. You’d have dinner waiting for me like a good wife, and you’d have given me a son by now.

He had blamed her from the start for their difficulty conceiving. Out of respect for the grief he had to be feeling, she refused to let the insult wound her.

I’ll make your favorite dish right now, she offered, turning toward the kitchen.

Don’t bother.

The words brought her back around.

I won’t be staying long enough to eat, he added.

You’re leaving? The tightness banding her chest immediately eased.

Of course. I have to go help my mother.

She must be devastated, Nina murmured. Your father seemed to be in such good health. Do you know how he died?

Mehmet was loosening his tie with vicious jerks. What difference does it make? His dark gaze bore into Nina’s. I’m leaving to settle his estate, and I don’t think I’m coming back.

What? A feeling like hope buoyed inside of her. Had she heard him correctly?

You’re an awful wife, Nina. His lips curled with disdain as he uttered the unexpected statement. He glanced at the haphazard arrangement of the living room. You defy my wishes by dancing when you should be fixing dinner. You’re as cold as a slab of marble, and you’re as barren as Libya. What do I get out of this marriage? Absolutely nothing.

Stunned by his cruelty, Nina stood motionless. He had to be taunting her with the prospect of freedom. Truth was, he exerted total control over her life, refusing to allow her to work, treating her like a servant, forcing intimacy on her even when she shrank from his touch.

He raised his voice suddenly Have you nothing to say?

She shook her head not daring to speak, lest she betray the hope flickering insider her.

Hurling a curse at her in his native tongue, he turned and stormed up the stairs next to him. Nina, still standing motionless, listened to him through the floor over her head. He had thrown open the closet in the front bedroom and was pulling out his suitcase. Walking slowly into the kitchen, she followed the sound of his footsteps as he moved to their bedroom at the back of the townhouse. The kitchen stood directly under it. Without thinking, she made herself a cup of tea, all the while overhearing him opening and closing dresser drawers.

Pack, she caught herself thinking. Take it all. Take everything and please, please don’t come back. Their three years together had been a torment.

She had told herself if they could just have a baby, she would pour all her love into their child, and she would be content. But the baby never came, and her private hell had seemed interminable.

The prospect of his departure summoned hope. It swelled behind the dam of her love-deprived heart. If Mehmet left, if he truly left, she could claim abandonment as grounds for divorce. She knew that much from researching her options on the Internet. But he had to leave for that to happen. If he stayed and she tried to divorce him, she knew he would kill her before he let her go. He had said as much several times in the past few months alone. With her hand shaking, she lifted her teacup to her lips, sipped, and waited.

At long last, she heard him thumping down the stairs, grunting as he hefted his heavy suitcase with him.

Please God, she prayed, surprising herself for turning to a God she had not been raised to acknowledge. Don’t let him change his mind.

She could hear him at the door, waiting for her to come out from the kitchen, no doubt expecting her to beg his forgiveness.

You could at least say goodbye to me, he shouted.

Dutifully, Nina approached the front of the house to see him off.

I’m really sorry about your father, Mehmet, she murmured. Approaching him as she normally would, she added, Please give your mother my condolences. She forced herself to embrace him, only to step back quickly, wary of his rigid form.

His dark eyes narrowed. That’s it? His voice was as brittle as glass. You’re not going to beg me to come back?

Knowing that was what he wanted from her, she swallowed convulsively. Saying the words out loud might salvage her marriage, but their utterance would be a lie.

At her continued silence, Mehmet’s face contorted with disgust. Calling her a horrible name—this time in English—he wrenched the door open and let himself out. The door slammed mightily in his wake.

Nina drew her first full breath since he’d come home. Moving to the window, she watched with burgeoning hope as he heaved his suitcase into the back of his Range Rover, got behind the wheel, and took off.

She went immediately to lock and chain the door. She leaned against it as her knees went weak with relief. Closing her eyes in abject relief, she prayed again. Please don’t let him come back.

If he had truly gone for good, she vowed she would never, ever get married again, not even for a child. She could have her baby without a husband. Of course, being less than fertile, she would likely need a doctor’s help, and that would cost a pretty penny. But, one day, she would hold her very own infant and raise it as she saw fit. And when that day finally came, then she would know true contentment.

CHAPTER 1

TEN YEARS LATER…

Nina pressed one fist to her nervously fluttering belly and raised the other to knock at the door of Santiago Rivera’s oceanfront cottage. The modest A-frame was wedged between two much larger homes, yet its view of the Atlantic Ocean was no less priceless.

Standing on the deck that wrapped around Santiago’s home, Nina’s gaze went beyond the cobalt waves rolling ashore toward the Atlantic’s horizon, where evening drew a dark veil ever closer. A breeze, perfumed by the ocean’s briny tang, hinted of cooler autumn weather as it lifted the long tresses of her dark hair.

The porchlight by the door blinked on, blinding her briefly. Then the door swung inward, and there stood the object of her obsession filling the doorway.

Hello. Master Chief Santiago Rivera’s smile eclipsed the light next to him. Nutmeg skin and black hair testified to his Puerto Rican heritage, as did his espresso-colored eyes as they scanned her slim figure, conveying appreciation and not the least hint of disrespect. He wore a white T-shirt, which highlighted his athletic frame, along with jeans and no shoes. The casual look appealed to her as much as when he wore his Naval Dress Uniform.

I’ve brought the paperwork, Nina said, steeling herself against his appeal and holding the packet of papers out to him.

For what? he asked, puzzled at first, but then his expression cleared. Ah, the in-vitro treatments. He went to take her offering. Oh, my hands are wet, he apologized, pulling them back. Can you bring it in?

She’d had no intention of stepping into his house. On the picnic they had shared one week earlier, he had agreed to father the baby she so desperately wanted. Forging a relationship with him wasn’t necessary, so far as she was concerned. All she required of him was to acknowledge the guidelines by signing the legal paperwork, then to show up at the fertility clinic to offer his…genetic contribution.

Santiago left her no choice, however, but to come in as he stepped back and held the door for her, his demeanor inviting.

Unwilling to offend him, lest he rescind his offer of a baby, Nina stepped inside. With every passing day, her dream of motherhood, nurtured for over a decade, became harder to achieve. She couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away.

Santiago’s home looked much as it had the first time she’d been there, when she came to share a word with her best friend’s husband, Jonah Mills. Fearing reprisal from whomever had caused his disappearance the year before, Jonah had been staying with Santiago so his family would be safe. That had been just before Nina’s picnic with Santiago, before it had been discovered that Jonah and Santiago’s commander had been the cause of Jonah’s apparent death over a year ago.

A week later, Nina’s impression of mismatched furniture and outdated décor was the same. Santiago’s home, apart from its lovely heart-of-pine floors and soaring ceilings, was in sad need of a woman’s touch. But the open floor plan and the spiral staircase leading to the loft gave it vast potential. She would give her eyeteeth for the opportunity to renovate it. The thought panged her for she had no intention of spending any significant time there.

Forgive the mess, Santiago said, heading straight for the brightly lit kitchen where he’d obviously been preparing something. Scooping up a cutting board, he slid the chopped vegetables deftly into a blender.

Nina’s gaze locked on the appliance as she approached. Is that a Vitamix?

He flashed her a grin. "Yes, it is. A necessary luxury for making sofrito."

She tipped her head at the unfamiliar word.

"Sofrito is a sauce that forms the base for many Puerto Rican dishes, he explained. I use it almost every time I cook. It was in my dinner tonight, arroz con gandules."

Rice and what? she asked, rounding the island to get a look at the ingredients.

Black beans. Too bad you didn’t come a little earlier. We could have had dinner together. He gestured at a pot still on the stove.

"Is sofrito spicy?" she asked, trying not to picture them sharing an intimate meal.

Savory, he said, hefting a second cutting board.

Nina identified minced Spanish onions and cilantro as he added them to the blender’s large container.

What kind of pepper is this? she asked, poking an oddly shaped vegetable lying on the counter.

"It’s called an aji dulce. It’s the secret ingredient to sofrito. Cutting off a sliver, he handed it to her. Taste. What do you think?"

His dark eyes shone expectantly as she popped it into her mouth.

Oh, it’s sweet, she said in surprise.

"Aji dulce," he repeated, making her suspect that dulce meant sweet. What kinds of foods do you cook? he asked while turning back to his preparations.

Memories of cooking for Mehmet tempered her enthusiasm. I don’t cook. Not anymore.

Santiago cast her a searching look, forcing her to explain.

It’s a waste of food, she said with a shrug, cooking for just one person. She immediately regretted her words, thinking they sounded like an invitation for him to join her.

Do you know any Turkish recipes? he asked instead of inviting himself.

She had admitted on their picnic together that her parents were from Turkey. It was for that very reason they had introduced her to her ex.

I know how to make a few dishes, she admitted.

Would you make me something? He pushed a button on the blender, keeping her from refusing right away. The contents of the Vitamix emulsified into a purée. By the time he turned the blender off, she had worded her refusal more carefully.

I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only came to bring you the paperwork.

His forehead furrowed with hurt he didn’t bother to hide. You don’t think we should get to know each other better?

He made it sound so simple, like spending time with him wouldn’t threaten her safe existence.

Just think about it, he added, when she couldn’t find the words to explain her reluctance.

Turning back to the cutting board, he wielded a knife with swift precision, cutting up several limes. Nina took a surreptitious look around.

Despite his apology earlier, his house was as neat as a pin. She thought about her own living room—the collection of Turkish carpets strewn about, books and magazines piled on her coffee table, a tea cup still sitting next to her sofa. She didn’t tidy up right away unless she wanted to. She wondered if Santiago was as exacting about cleanliness as Mehmet had been.

Timing is everything, he declared, reclaiming her attention as he squeezed the limes into the blender. Then he flipped the switch briefly, filling the kitchen with the aroma of cilantro, lime, and garlic. Right away, he poured a portion of the mix into a bowl and stuck it in the refrigerator. Then he turned toward the stove where leftovers from his dinner still remained in a pot. Ladling some into a bowl, he warmed it for thirty seconds in his microwave, stuck a fork into it, stirred, and placed it on the counter in front of her.

"Arroz con gandules cooked in sofrito, he explained. Taste and tell me what you think."

Nina hadn’t dropped by his house to eat, but the aromas had awakened her appetite. Stepping toward the counter, she forked up a delicate bite and tasted it.

Mmm. The essence of the Caribbean seemed to fill her mouth. Her tongue clamored for more, and she gave in to it, tasting a mouthful this time.

Santiago leaned an elbow on the counter and watched her eat. "I dare you to outdo my arroz con gandules," he challenged with a glint in his eyes.

Nina immediately thought of her homemade baklava—no one could refuse it. An amber light of caution blinked in her head. Interacting with Santiago was dangerous. He tugged at her like the moon influencing the tides. All the same, she realized she would value his opinion of her famous dessert.

Next time I see you, I will bring something, she agreed. "Something even better than this food with the sofrito base, though it’s very good," she allowed.

His boyish smile conveyed anticipation. I look forward to that.

She hoped he wouldn’t read too much into her promise. Cutting their conversation short, she produced the envelope a second time and held it out to him.

You need to read the rules, then sign your name on the last page, she instructed.

His smile faded as he took the envelope and opened it, scanning the contents with a look she could not decipher.

It’s a lot to take in at once, he said on a guarded note.

Her stomach tightened with sudden concern. You haven’t changed your mind, have you? Having gone into debt divorcing a man who could not be tracked down, it had taken Nina years of thrift to save enough money for in-vitro fertilization. Then, quite by chance, she’d run into Santiago Rivera on salsa night at the brewery and danced with him. Their connection had been immediate and powerful. Perhaps if he hadn’t proposed to her out of the blue, she might have let her guard down long enough to get to know him. Instead, his proposal had caused her to flee. It was Eden, who had thrown them together again. Santiago was the senior enlisted SEAL in Eden’s husband’s squadron. She’d agreed to one date with him—a picnic on the beach, and that was when Nina realized, while she would never marry again, she wanted Santiago’s baby. Amazingly, he had agreed to give her one.

She would be devastated if he backed out of their agreement now.

No, no, of course not.

Stretching a hand across the counter, he laid it over hers. The warmth of his touch spurred her pulse.

I promise you, I am committed. It’s just that I feel this is all backward—having a baby without first getting to know each other.

That again! She couldn’t possibly explain how his poetic syntax and his mesmerizing gaze were a threat to her safety. If she fell in love and married him, she could find herself in the very situation she had so abhorred.

Perhaps I could keep these papers for a few days, he suggested. I would like to pray first.

She had only ever prayed once in her life, the day that Mehmet left her. Since then, she’d rationalized what had happened. God hadn’t saved her. She had saved herself, going to great lengths to get a judge to annul her marriage when Mehmet couldn’t be tracked down.

Pray? she repeated, wondering if that was a long process.

He smiled at her ruefully. Yes.

She had pictured herself turning the packet into the clinic the very next day on her way to work. The sooner she began the hormone therapy, the sooner she could have her long-awaited baby.

I don’t have much time, she protested, stammering out the words. In four months, I’ll be thirty-seven. There are dangers to conceiving at my age.

I understand, he said, on a soothing note. Give me three more days. I’ll bring this to your house after work on Thursday.

Three days! She couldn’t see the point of waiting, but what choice did she have? Without his participation, there would be no baby.

My ballet studio is closer, she pointed out. Keeping him from knowing where she lived made her feel more secure, like she wasn’t in danger of being swept off her feet by him.

As you wish, he said with a look that made it obvious he saw straight through her.

I close at six on Thursdays, she added.

Perfect. I’ll bring the paperwork to you then. That way you have time to make me that dish you promised.

Very well. Helping herself to another bite of the rice-and-bean dish, she hiked her purse onto her shoulder and prepared to leave. This food was delicious. Thank you, she said, nodding at it. I’ll see you Thursday.

Santiago smiled and held her gaze. I will count the hours until then.

The assertion would have sounded ridiculous if his eyes didn’t say the same thing.

Run! warned a voice in Nina’s head. This man could charm a rattlesnake.

I have to go. She whirled for the door.

Somehow, Santiago got there first, pulling it open for her in a gallant gesture that reminded her of how Mehmet had treated her in the beginning. Everything he had said and done had been meant to manipulate her into submitting to him. How can I be sure Santiago isn’t the same?

Her best friend, Eden, seemed to think Jonah’s master chief was a prince among men, but how well did anyone know another person, really? The only way to Nina could ensure she never found herself at another man’s mercy belittled was to keep her relationship with Santiago superficial.

Unfortunately, she had no idea how that going to be possible when she’d promised at their picnic, he could help her raise their child.

CHAPTER 2

On Thursday afternoon, Santiago pushed into Nina’s dance studio under her sign Inspired to Dance with the paperwork in his pocket and a nervous flutter in his stomach. An electronic chime played a segment from The Nutcracker, announcing his arrival. He was pleased to see only one little dancer and her mother remaining in the room up front. The girl was putting on her street shoes, preparing to leave. Nina poked her head out of her office and greeted him.

You remembered, she said, trying to look like it made no difference to her, but the brightness of her eyes betrayed her pleasure.

Of course. Like he might forget when he had yearned to see her every day for the past three days. At the same time, he dreaded breaking the news to her that he had not signed the paperwork because he believed God had other plans for them.

How was that going to go over with a woman who had no apparent relationship with her Maker?

Still, if their love was meant to be—and he had very good reason for believing it was—then all would work out in the end. Forcing himself to slow down, to listen and wait for signs were often the hardest aspects of faith.

I’ll be right out, she promised, ducking back into her office.

Santiago seated himself at the bistro table where, two weeks before, they had shared take-out from the Greek fast-food restaurant next door. He had visited the restaurant intentionally, having discovered from Jonah Mill’s wife, Eden, where Nina worked. If he hadn’t been loitering outside her dance studio, wondering how to approach her, he wouldn’t have been at hand to help when her car refused to start.

Being able to rescue her had surely been a circumstance orchestrated by Heaven. That had been Santiago’s first sign God wanted them to marry. And that had been their second providential meeting, the first being their encounter at the brewery on salsa night. He had known after two short hours of dancing with Nina, she was the woman for him, and that notion was still with him, months later.

With tactical breathing intended to combat his nervousness, Santiago watched the mother and daughter make their way to the door.

Good-bye, Miss Nina, the two sang out.

Nina emerged from the office bearing a glass baking dish. See you Tuesday.

As the pair departed, she approached Santiago and set her dish in front of him. Removing the plastic wrap with a flourish, she released an aroma of honey and almonds that made his mouth water.

As promised, she declared. This is my baklava. Most people think it’s a Greek dessert but, in fact, it originated in Turkey. And mine’s the best. A proud little smile overtook her impassive expression.

Santiago savored the aroma. It smells amazing.

Let me get something to serve it with.

She scurried back to the office and returned seconds later with paper plates and plastic forks. Then she lifted out two of the pre-cut slices, giving them both to Santiago, while she helped herself to just one. He waited for her to sit across from him before carving out a bite.

The delicacy melted on his tongue, tasting like manna straight from Heaven. He had to close his eyes and moan. "Dios mío," he murmured with reverence.

Like it? She tried to conceal her pleasure over his reaction by taking a bite of her own and chewing slowly, as if making sure it was up to her standards.

"It’s incredible. Better than my arroz con gandules," he admitted with a humble grimace.

I don’t know about that, Nina protested, but her tone let him know she, too, thought it better.

Containing little sounds of ecstasy, he continued to eat—oh, so grateful that she’d given him two squares.

She ate half of her piece before putting down her fork. Did you bring the paperwork? Her tone was excitedly expectant, causing his stomach to knot as a surge of guilt rose in him for having to disappoint her.

Mmm. Santiago feigned the need to chew before answering. Give me the words, Señor, he prayed as he picked up his napkin and wiped stray crumbs from his lips.

I have it here. He produced the envelope from the pocket of his work jacket. But first, he added, holding her gaze with a pleading look, would you dance with me again, now that no one else is here? Ever since the night we danced salsa together, I’ve dreamed of doing it again—with you.

Dance? she repeated, her eyes wide and wary.

One dance, he pleaded, then held his breath, waiting for her answer.

Her considering gaze flickered over him, raising his hopes.

Okay, she agreed, causing his pulse to spike as she pushed her chair back and came to her feet. He realized she had the advantage, dressed as she was in yoga pants, a loose blue top, and ballet slippers. He, on the other hand, still wore his navy working uniform, comprised of clunky boots, camouflage jacket, pants, and a webbed belt.

Do you mind? he asked as he bent to remove his boots. I don’t want to scuff up your dance floor.

Of course not.

Her eyes rounded slightly when he stood up and removed his belt, then his jacket, leaving on just his socks, work pants, and a blue T-shirt.

I’m going to put some music on, she explained, fleeing through the door that separated her studio at the back of the building from the rooms up front.

Following her at his own pace, Santiago sent a fervent prayer heavenward. The last time they had danced he had fallen helplessly in love with her. Perhaps she would fall in love with him this time or, at the very least, grow more comfortable being alone with him. Anything to mitigate the blow he was about to deliver when he returned her paperwork, unsigned.

Hiding in the closet that housed her stereo and CD collection, Nina asked herself if dancing with Santiago was a huge mistake. The way her pulse was racing, one would think she was about to dance again at Carnegie Hall. Her nervousness was due, no doubt, to their being alone. This wasn’t a crowded and noisy brewery with tons of people looking on.

Through the high windows at the back of her studio, the setting sun shot golden beams across the open space, creating a romantic ambience she feared might put unwanted thoughts in his head. She only wanted Santiago’s baby, not a relationship.

Being alone with him sometimes made even her forget that.

Selecting a CD of Latin dance music, including salsa, samba, merengue, and mamba, she slid it into the disc player and hit play. As she exited the closet, her heart skipped to see him waiting on the dance floor with a look in his eyes that sent a thrill through her.

The music started as she neared him. He held a hand out to her, inviting her to slip her right hand into his. Her left came to rest on his broad shoulder while his right hand went to her waist. Then they began to move to the beat with an unbelievable synchronicity.

It’s as if we’ve danced together all our lives, she marveled, stepping in tandem with him and rolling her hips as she stepped from one foot to the next. As had happened the night they’d met, their gazes locked. They didn’t have to speak to communicate. Santiago led her with subtle signs, like the light pressure on her waist, a tilt of his head.

As the dance progressed, Nina’s nervousness gave way to enjoyment. Realizing a smile was on her face, she tried to subdue it, but she couldn’t. Their dancing became bolder, more dramatic. She whirled with abandon, even pursing her lips into a sultry moue that made Santiago laugh. His laughter was a heady, inviting sound.

All too soon, the salsa beat came to an end, transitioning to music that didn’t conform to the eight-beat count. His puzzled look informed her he didn’t know what to do.

It’s samba music, she explained. It can be danced solo or with a partner. Would you like to learn some moves?

Show me, he invited with gusto.

She stepped beside him, holding his hand. Mirror my movements, she instructed and slowed her actions to half-time while stepping in a grapevine pattern to the right then to the left.

Now faster, she added, moving at regular tempo. Now this. She showed him the next move. Again, he mirrored what she did, picking it up effortlessly. You’re a natural, she marveled, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of them.

It’s only that you instruct well, he said, his syntax more Spanish than English.

One more move and we’ll put them all together.

They performed the three moves back to back. Instead of repeating them, Nina released him to perform a spontaneous choreography, then gestured for Santiago to do likewise. He added a shoulder shimmy that made her throw her head back and laugh.

Again, from the top, he suggested, grabbing her hand and guiding her into the first movement.

By the time the music ended, they were both slightly out of breath and laughing at each other’s antics. Conscious of Santiago’s light grasp, Nina did not resist as he pulled her suddenly into a tender embrace.

Thank you, he rasped against her ear. His lips brushed her cheek in an unthreatening kiss that nonetheless shortened her breath further and made her want to turn her face toward his. The desire to feel his mouth crushed to hers did not surprise her. She’d known from the instant they’d met how dangerous he could be to her equilibrium.

Any time, she said, regretting the words even as she said them. Getting emotionally entangled was not an option. She wasn’t brave enough to risk it.

Her vulnerability resurfaced, causing her to pull away and hurry to the closet to turn off the music.

I have to get home, she said, aware that her excuse was a lame one. No one was waiting for her, not even a cat, as she was sadly allergic.

With Santiago trailing behind, she marched briskly from the closet and out the door to the reception area. The paperwork she’d asked him to sign was sitting on the table where he’d left it. With Santiago practically on her heels, she picked up the envelope and started to open it.

Stop, he said, causing her to hesitate and look back at him.

To her consternation, he took her by the elbow and pulled her gently around.

I didn’t sign it. His apologetic look carved lines on his forehead.

She blinked and even pulled out the paperwork to verify he was telling the truth. A shaft of betrayal ran though her. But you promised me, she said in a thin voice.

I promised I would be the father of your child, he agreed, his gaze gentle and searching, and I have no intention of breaking my promise.

Her entire body went rigid and wary. I don’t understand.

Listen, he begged. He tried to tip her chin up, but she averted her face, her pulse racing.

I read about the procedure, he continued. Then I spent many hours in thought and in prayer, asking for God to tell me His will for us, for you, for the baby you want so much.

A vision of her unborn daughter rose up in her mind’s eye, taunting her.

I was sitting on my deck this morning, watching the sunrise and praying, yet again, for God to guide our decision.

She pictured him on his deck, gazing out at the impossibly beautiful expanse of blue.

When all at once, I heard a voice.

Her eyebrows climbed at the unexpected confession.

I’ve never heard an audible voice before, he told her very earnestly. When God speaks to me, it is most often through scripture or through someone else’s words, or sometimes a feeling, an impulse that I get. But this time I heard a thundering voice, yet completely silent. His eyes widened with wonder. The voice said one word to me.

She waited, confused as to why he would make up such an elaborate story. Was it simply to protect her feelings? Either he was willing to give her a baby or he wasn’t. There wasn’t any need to lie.

The voice, he continued, so earnestly that she was tempted to believe him, the voice said, ‘Abraham.’

In the pause that followed, she searched her mind for the significance of that name. She knew it was mentioned in the Bible, but with no religious education, the name meant very little to her.

Abraham, he clarified, when she said nothing, is from the Bible, from the Book of Genesis. He is known as the father of Judaism, the first person to recognize and worship one God.

Frustration started to nip at Nina’s heels. She exhaled, wishing he would give an excuse she could understand, not tell her some story that had no relevance to her life.

God promised Abraham he would have as many descendants as numbered the stars, Santiago told her. But that was impossible. Both he and his wife, Sarah, were old and childless. Yet, God was right. Soon after the promise, Sarah conceived a son and named him Isaac. Don’t you see?

Santiago searched Nina’s rigid expression. "God addressed me as Abraham in order to tell me that we will have a child, just like Abraham and Sarah."

A portion of her devastation faded. Why would he tell her this unless he wanted a baby as much as she did? Then why didn’t you sign the papers?

He released a long breath. Because I believe, Nina, that God was telling me you can have a baby without in-vitro fertilization.

She stared at him silently a moment before speaking. I told you this on our picnic at the beach, she said, reminding him. Perhaps, her words had been forgotten since they’d found themselves caught up in a shootout between Eden’s husband, Jonah, and some men trying to kill him. I can’t have children. If I could, I would have conceived with Mehmet.

How do you know the problem wasn’t with him? Santiago asked.

He was tested, she replied, her voice rising. I’m a dancer. I haven’t had regular cycles since I was a teen. What more do you need to know? She felt tears surge into her eyes and knew he could see them.

Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve upset you. I’m sorry, he apologized, holding out both hands in an appeasing gesture. "Just listen to me, Nina. I don’t believe you can’t have children. I believe you can. And I would like to try with you."

He was asking her to be intimate with him, she realized. Surprise mingled with a shocking desire to throw herself at him right then and there. From any other man, it would seem like a disturbing come-on, a way to get her to sleep with him. From Santiago, it seemed like an invitation for so much more. Yet his next words stopped her in her tracks.

Of course, I would want us to get to know each other better beforehand. Assuming everything went well, I would want to…, his voice dropped off at the look on her face.

You would want to what? she demanded.

He hung his head suddenly. I’ve said too much, he stated in a quiet, disappointed voice. I should leave now. But promise me, he added, gazing at her with feeling. Promise me you’ll think about my words. A small, encouraging smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You can have a baby, Nina. I have faith it’s the truth. You don’t need a doctor’s help."

Stunned that he would assume so much from what sounded like a moment of self-delusion, Nina simply stared at him as he jammed his feet into his boots and hastily retied them. Then, picking up his jacket and belt as he straightened, he sent her a look that tugged on her heartstrings.

I hope you will call me, Santiago said before he turned away and strode to the door. Thank you for the baklava, he added, offering her a sad smile. It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

The words seemed to hang in the air as he pulled the door open and slipped through it so swiftly, he failed to set off the chime. Through the front windows, Nina watched him stride to his antique car, an ancient Ford Falcon covered in primer.

He had walked away and left the paperwork unsigned. The dream that her daughter would have dark hair and dimples like Santiago’s died a whimpering death. How could he expect her to believe she could conceive because he’d supposedly heard a voice calling him Abraham? It was utter nonsense. At least it made no sense to Nina. Perhaps Eden would think differently. Her best friend believed in God as fervently as Santiago.

Too bereft to do anything but sink into the nearest chair, Nina pressed a fist into her hollow stomach and let the threatening tears fill her eyes. Her daughter, Esme, wouldn’t be conceived anytime soon. At this rate, Nina might never be a mother. She would grow old, teaching other people’s children how to dance, but never her own.

For the first time in her life, she wished she had the kind of faith that Santiago had.

CHAPTER 3

Nina watched disinterestedly as Eden pointed to one of the profiles of the male donors listed on the cryotherapy clinic’s website.

What about him? her friend asked.

The two women sat side by side on Nina’s couch, the laptop resting on her knees. The sinking sun cast a warm glow over them, turning her walls a richer shade of gold. Despite the warmth, Nina felt nothing but chilled inside, especially when looking at the bios of strangers on the screen.

She had invited Eden to her townhome that evening for two reasons. The first was to alleviate Eden’s loneliness brought on by her husband’s sudden incarceration. Lt. Jonah Mills had been charged with assaulting his superior officer at a skeet range and was being held in the brig, pending an Article 32 hearing. The second reason was so Eden could help Nina find a new father for her future child. Thanks to Santiago’s refusal to participate in her in-vitro plans, she had no choice but to search for a new donor.

Examining the description of the candidate Eden was pointing to, Nina imagined what the man looked like. For privacy purposes, none of the donors’ photos were posted. This man had described himself as 5’10", with green eyes and brown hair, of Caucasian heritage, with a master’s degree.

Picturing the man and feeling no emotional response, Nina reminded herself that was what she wanted—a father for her child who didn’t threaten her safe existence. At the same time, feeling nothing made the selection process almost impossible.

No, she decided, thinking she would prefer a man with darker coloring, who professed a love for dancing.

Eden sent her a pitying, sidelong glance. You know you’ve said ‘no’ in that same tone more than ten times now.

Nina grimaced. I know.

Eden sat back and sighed. I can tell you right now, you’re not going to find the father of your baby this way. What happened to your agreement with Master Chief?

It wasn’t the first time Eden had pressed her for an answer, but Nina’s innate need for privacy had kept her from sharing Santiago’s decision. That night, however, she felt the need to unburden herself.

Setting the laptop aside, she picked up their wine glasses, handed Eden hers, and took a tiny sip. The crisp white wine reminded her of the sauvignon blanc Santiago had brought to their picnic on the beach the night he’d agreed to be the father of her baby.

Okay, I’ll tell you, Nina agreed, but you have to promise not to pressure me. This is my decision.

Of course it is. Eden looked hurt that she would even say such a thing.

Sorry. Nina drew a deep breath and let it out again. He hasn’t withdrawn his offer to father my baby, she began, but he’s convinced himself I don’t need medical help to get pregnant. He thinks I can do it the old-fashioned way.

Eden’s amber-colored eyes widened, and then she let out a laugh. Really! I’m shocked. Master Chief is human, after all.

There’s more, Nina warned her. He said he was praying about signing the paperwork and God spoke to him.

Eden’s grin gave way to a look of interest. Really? What did God say? she pressed when Nina paused.

Eden’s interest astonished Nina. "You really think God spoke to him? she demanded. Isn’t that a bit ludicrous?"

Eden looked back at her wide-eyed. Not at all. Oh, honey, I wish…. She shook her head. I wish I could explain what it’s like to have a relationship with God.

She had tried many times to explain to Nina what her faith did for her. Undeterred, she tried again. It’s like you’ve always got a parent who wants the very best for you, who’ll listen to anything you say, and help you in the most amazing ways.

Nina had to admit that did sound appealing, but she couldn’t see how God was helping Eden right then. You still believe that, even with everything happening to Jonah? How is God helping either of you right now?

Eden’s expression saddened, but she didn’t look hopeless. "I see how you would think that God has abandoned me and Jonah, but that’s not at all true. I know that God has listened to our prayers. He comforts me every day in the form of a bird serenading me, or new flowers blooming in my garden, a letter from an old friend in the mail. This may sound naïve, but I believe that everything is going to work out for us. God has my life in the palm of his hand. And He has plans to prosper me, not to hurt me."

With a peculiar pressure on her heart, Nina listened. She wished she had that kind of confidence about her own future.

Eden bumped Nina’s knee with her own. Tell me what Master Chief said. What did God tell him, exactly?

Nina thought back. I can’t remember Santiago’s exact phrasing, but he said he heard an audible voice calling him Abraham.

Eden gasped and looked thunderstruck.

You don’t think that’s crazy? Nina asked.

A wondrous smile lifted the corners of Eden’s mouth. No, I don’t think it’s crazy. She let loose a joyous laugh. I think it’s incredible! Nina, do you know who Abraham was?

Santiago told me. He said he was the father of Judaism.

Yes! Eden agreed. The founder of faith. And he had his first son with Sarah when they were both way past their childbearing years!

He told me that, too. Sarah conceived a son and named him Isaac. You sound as excited as he was, Nina noted with confusion.

Listen to me, Nina. Eden set her wineglass down and shook her friend’s knee. Santiago Rivera is the kindest, most loving man you’ll ever hope to meet—besides my Jonah, she amended. He is devout, and he is honest. If he says God spoke to him, then you can believe God spoke to him. And the message is obvious, even to me. If he’s Abraham, that means you’re Sarah. You’re going to have his baby, and you’re going to have it without any medical intervention. It’s inevitable. It’s what Heaven wants!

Eden’s excitement spilled over into Nina, spurring her heart rate.

You really think so? she asked, marveling that Santiago’s hallucination made perfect sense to her friend.

"I’m sure of it, Eden stated. You have to call him and tell him, Yes! Take hold of this wonderful opportunity."

But…but that means…starting a relationship, a real relationship, you know? I can’t just…have his baby without….

Marrying him? Trust me, that’s exactly what Master Chief wants. Didn’t he propose to you the night you first met? Eden reminded Nina.

Yes. His proposal had made her leave the brewery, panicked by her attraction and terrified of involvement.

Nina, you’d have to be crazy to turn him down, Eden added. She indicated the laptop, still sitting open to the page of potential donors. There’s a reason why none of those men appeal to you. You were meant to be with Santiago.

Her voice gentled and gripped Nina’s knee more firmly. "I know you were scarred by your marriage to Mehmet. But I promise you, marriage to Santiago would be nothing like what you experienced. He would treat you with gentleness and faithfulness. And he would be—will be— she corrected herself, the best father a baby could hope to have. Don’t you want to give that to your child?"

All at once, the doorbell rang, keeping Nina from discussing her deep-seated fears. Who would that be? she asked, grateful for the interruption.

Crossing to the door, she unlocked and opened it without thinking. After all, the sun had yet to sink outside. The sight of her ex-husband standing on the stoop hit her like a punch to the stomach. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, not since he’d packed his bag in a snit and returned to Turkey to look after his mother. Yet, there he stood, decked out in a silk suit and wearing a remorseful smile.

Mehmet. What are you doing here? Gripping the door more tightly, she grappled with the urge to shut it in his face.

I’m sorry, he apologized, his accent thicker than it used to be. I know it must be a shock to see me, but I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?

His polite request veiled a hidden agenda, she was certain of it.

No, I’m sorry. I already have a guest over.

Right on cue, Eden sidled up to the door beside her, brushing her arm reassuringly.

Mehmet eyed her curiously. Who is this? he asked as though he had a right to know.

Eden stuck a hand out. I’m Eden, she introduced herself, Nina’s best friend. Both her tone and her words conveyed solidarity.

Mehmet shook her hand with seeming cordiality.

Why are you here? Nina demanded. He had done everything in his power to make divorcing him difficult. Trying to tracking him down had cost her a fortune. She had never recovered, financially.

With a tilt of his head, Mehmet said, Unfortunately, I have sad news. My mother died this past summer.

Oh. Picturing the sweet, plump woman who had traveled with her husband all the way from Turkey to attend their wedding, a portion of Nina’s hostility faded. I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope she didn’t suffer.

Her death was peaceful, he assured her. Slipping a hand into his slacks, he withdrew a velvet pouch. She wanted you to have these, he added, extending the pouch to her.

Nina took the bag automatically. With rising curiosity, she untied the drawstring, then dumped the contents into her hand, sucking in a startled breath that mirrored Eden’s subdued exclamation. A collection of Turkish jewelry glimmered in Nina’s palm, including a ring, a pendant, several earrings, and a bracelet, all comprised of precious and semi-precious stones, mounted in silver, sterling, and yellow gold.

Stunned into silence, she looked up to catch Mehmet watching her reaction, and her skin seemed to shrink.

I can’t take these from you, she stated, feeding the jewels back into the bag and drawing it shut again. We’re not family anymore. She held the bag for him to take back.

He held up both his hands, refusing it. My mother wanted you to have them. We must honor her wishes.

Torn, Nina looked at Eden for advice and got a slight shrug.

Weighing the worth of the jewelry, it occurred to Nina that she could offset the in-vitro treatments by pawning some of the jewels.

If you change your mind, she offered stiffly, I’ll give them back.

Mehmet continued to stand on her stoop as if expecting something.

Torn between courtesy and the desire to get rid of him, she asked, Are you just visiting the States or…?

Just visiting, he confirmed, relieving her of the worry that he was there to stay. I would like to talk to you about our marriage, he added, darting an uncomfortable look at Eden.

Nina stiffened and shook her head. It’s been over for years. You abandoned me and went back to Turkey, and now we’re divorced.

Mehmet lowered his gaze, then raised it to her again. I am sorry for leaving, he stated unexpectedly.

Nina gaped at him, then met Eden’s watchful eyes. What was she supposed to say to that? She had exhausted her resources hunting him down for a signature. Unable to get even that, she’d finally found a judge willing to grant her a default judgment of divorce. It had taken three years to finalize the process.

Please, Mehmet said on a deferential note. I would like to talk. My mother’s death, he paused. It’s made me rethink how I treated you.

Eden touched Nina’s arm. Maybe I should leave you two so you can mend bridges, she suggested.

Nina shot her friend a horrified look. No! Don’t leave me with him!

Eden reached for her purse, hanging on the hall tree by the door. Snatching it up, she put her cheek to Nina’s as if kissing her farewell and whispered quietly, I’ll get help. See you later, she added as she pulled back. With a nod for Mehmet, she slipped past him out the door.

Nina watched Eden stride swiftly toward her silver Jaguar. Feeling horribly vulnerable, she remained at the door wondering what to do next. The cynic in her head warned her not to invite Mehmet inside. Her more compassionate nature noticed how tired and sorrowful he appeared.

With a shiver of premonition, she heard herself say, Why don’t you come in for a few minutes?

CHAPTER 4

Murmuring his thanks, Mehmet started inside. Nina scuttled backward, suddenly fearful in her own home. Seeing her and Eden’s wine glasses on the table, she snatched them up and carried them to the adjoining kitchen, tossing over her shoulder as she did so, Can I get you a glass of water? Mehmet never touched alcohol and had expected her to follow his example.

Please, he replied.

As she filled a glass with ice and water, she watched him circuit her living area, taking close inventory of the cozy space. They had bought the townhouse together soon after they’d wed. He clearly had trouble reconciling how different it looked with the walls painted a cheery golden color, all new furniture, and not a single relic or photograph of their life together anywhere.

I like what you’ve done with the place, he stated as she brought him his glass.

Thanks. Their fingers brushed in the trade off, making her want to wipe her hands on her yoga pants. Have a seat, she added, sticking to courtesy.

When he sat on the sofa in the very spot she’d been sitting earlier, Nina chose the upholstered recliner across from him and sat down stiffly.

A minute of uncomfortable silence followed as Mehmet steadily drained his glass.

Nina sought to break the rising tension. How is your family holding up?

His mother, she recalled, was a widow with many children—Mehmet being the oldest. It was possible he still had siblings who were teenagers.

His next words confirmed it. The youngest are overwrought, of course, to find themselves orphaned. As the oldest son, it’s my duty to raise them.

How old are they now?

Kemal is fifteen; Hasan is thirteen.

No wonder Mehmet looked so weary!

Shouldn’t you be with them instead of coming all the way here to deliver the jewelry?

The instant the question was out of her mouth, Nina realized what was happening. The watchful look in Mehmet’s murky eyes confirmed it. His visit wasn’t altruistic. He wasn’t delivering a windfall that would enable her to pay for her in-vitro treatments without blowing through her modest savings. He had come here in the hopes of bringing her back to Turkey with him so she could raise his younger brothers.

The blood in her veins ran instantly cold, abolishing the compassion she’d felt moments earlier.

Mehmet took his sweet time answering. My mother’s dying wish, he said, was for you to have her treasures—not only those in the bag—but her living treasures. She wished for you to raise Kemal and Hasan as your own, to take her place.

Nina’s heart thudded painfully as she forced herself to stay calm and to keep her head. She knew Mehmet well enough to know he wasn’t making a request. Nor would he tolerate her refusal. She couldn’t see how he intended to get her to fly back to Turkey with him against her will, but she knew that was his ultimate intention.

Somehow, some way, she had to make him see reason. Mehmet, she said, gentling her tone, your mother was gracious to entrust me with her children, but you and I have been divorced for many years. Did she not realize that?

He sent her a crooked smile. How exactly are we divorced? I never signed any documents.

Her blood flashed from cold to hot, but she spoke gently lest he fly off at the handle as he had done so often in the past. You didn’t need to sign them, Mehmet. In the United States, if a spouse is abandoned by her partner who goes overseas and cannot be tracked down, a judge may grant a default judgment of divorce. We’re not married anymore. I have no connection to your mother’s children. I’m sure there’s someone in your family—

She cut herself off abruptly as he shot up from his seat and started to prowl.

I can’t believe you would say such words to me after what I’ve been through. I didn’t abandon you. I returned to Turkey because of my father’s death, to help my mother. His volume had begun to rise, reminding her of a hundred times before—something she’d hoped never to hear again.

Nina gripped the arm of the recliner and drew a steadying breath. If that were true, you would have received my many letters requesting an official separation, she stated in a reasonable manner. She would not be cowed by him. She wasn’t a young bride in her twenties anymore.

"I never