Number one rule for them to remember right now? Pretend they had no means of communication with the outside world and limited fuel until she figured out what to do with their unexpected company.
Thanks to her contact at the hospital, she’d learned Amelia was not the boy’s mother, but rather an aunt who’d only known him for a few days. It was unclear whether his parents were alive or not. Now she would use this opportunity to decide how much Hugh and Amelia knew, then proceed from there.
She sped—chop, chop, chop—through the rest of the vegetables, tossed them in a bowl, and circled round the island toward the carved oak table. Placing the bowl in the middle, she eyed the child sitting on his aunt’s lap as she fed him spoonfuls of cut-up spaghetti.
Jocelyn sat at the head of the table. “Sorry about the canned dinner, but our options are limited. We have fuel for the generator, but we’re conserving.”
Swiping Joshua’s mouth with her good hand, Amelia said, “Just sitting at a table feels… unreal. Sardines and crackers would be gourmet.”
Courtney grabbed the tongs and served herself salad. “Not a joke. That’s up soon on the menu.”
Erin gripped her water bottle in a white-knuckled fist. “How bad is it out there, Sergeant? We’ve heard reports on the radio.”
“It’s even worse,” Hugh said simply, wearing a white T-shirt with his camo pants. “The devastation is intense. The death toll has risen into the thousands.”
Jocelyn forked spaghetti up slowly. “I would like to help, but it sounds dangerous. We have to be careful, three women out here alone. Although I’m thankful to have my nieces for company.”
She reached to pat the hands of the two women on either side of her.
Courtney had been married to a well-connected husband who also had a quick temper and quicker right hook. He’d ruptured her spleen and bought his way out of prosecution seven years ago. The auburn-haired soccer mom had opted to leave Atlanta and relocate anonymously with her son to keep him safe. She had been with Jocelyn ever since.
And Erin? The former Oklahoma cheerleader was on the run from her high school sweetheart-turned-stalker. Nearly three years had passed since the underground network had brought her here.
Now they helped her with a deep loyalty since she’d rescued them from certain death. And they had a deep empathy with the other women and children she saved, understanding the way a hellish background could scare some people away from making the right decisions for their future. Courtney and Erin understood that frightened victims of abuse or neglect sometimes needed prompting to do the right things for themselves.
Something Jocelyn hadn’t realized until long after she’d made the break from her oppressive background.
She’d married someone her parents approved of, someone in the family business. She’d turned a blind eye to what her drug-running family—what her drug-running husband—did to pay for her big house, pretty clothes, and nice vacations. All had seemed idyllic.
Until she’d confronted him about selling to junior high kids. That wasn’t right, she’d told him, something she’d realized then from the perspective of a prospective parent. Her husband had beaten the crap out of her. She’d lost her baby girl, and the chance to have any more.
Her brother had killed her husband, but still she’d known she had to get away from the whole business. She’d spent the first thirty-four years of her life trying to make everyone happy, make everyone love her. She’d even married the pasty-faced blue blood everyone expected her to. The nineteen years following his death? She was living her life her way.
She’d left Miami for the vacation home in the Bahamas to take up residence, increase the sugarcane business. And when a friend had sought sanctuary at her house to hide with a child from an abusive husband, Jocelyn had found her way. She used her profits to help other women relocate. And she saved babies, since she hadn’t been able to save her own. She funded international adoptions, ones not tied down by red tape, ones that placed children quickly so they didn’t languish in already-underfunded, understaffed orphanages.
She used her money to help others. She wasn’t like her family, damn it, not anymore.
At the opposite end of the table, Hugh pushed his empty plate aside. “You’re right to be careful, to stay here. While we appreciate that you saved us, that was really risky, picking us up.”
Hugh Franco was a tough one to read. He’d kept quiet and observant. She’d only seen a flicker of emotion on his face once. When he’d walked by a guitar hung on the wall, he’d stroked the strings lightly, almost automatically, as if he didn’t realize what he’d done.
“You’re welcome and you’re correct, Sergeant Franco. My husband would have worried about us out here too.” Jocelyn twisted her gold wedding band on her finger, worn as a reminder of what not to do. “He died in a boating accident nineteen years ago. My life and work here fills my time now. Amelia, will you keep working, now that you have the baby? And what was it that you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” She spooned another bite into Joshua’s Cupid’s-bow mouth.
Interesting and possibly problematic. Especially considering she already had a solid family lined up for Joshua. She’d heard from Tandi that she’d located the perfect baby for a family that had two adoptions fall through and wanted to go a different route to reduce the emotional trauma of another adoption abruption. With their political connections, she had hopes of easing channels in the future. She’d already used her satellite phone to alert them.
She was torn. Joshua had a caring family now, even if she knew the overly cautious aunt Amelia chose to lie about her connection.
“Your parents must be proud of you. What kind of law do you practice?”
“I’m a county prosecutor.” She answered simply, flexing her bandaged hand carefully.
“Good for you, hon.” Jocelyn toasted her with a water bottle. “Stand up for what’s right. You have to live with yourself at the end of the day. People think I’m all about the money and I have to confess, I appreciate the power this money gives me over my life. But it gives me the power to make choices.”
Soldier man cleared his throat. “And speaking of power, when will you have access to more fuel and communication?”
Jocelyn toyed with her dinner knife, spinning it on the table. “I’ll know more in the morning. All my vehicles are out delivering supplies, but they should return by the morning.” Long enough for her to decide what to do about the two of them. “We can take you to your unit, Sergeant. And Amelia could stay here with the little one. He will be more comfortable here.”