Fallen Hearts (Casteel 3)

instructed her. "It's just like General Hospital in here." Ten days after we brought Annie home, I was

upstairs in my bed nursing her when Logan arrived

from the factory. He was so excited about our child

that he would often leave the factory to make what he

called "baby visits." He would rush in, hold the baby

in his arms or watch her sleep for a while, and then go

back to the factory.

This particular afternoon when he came

upstairs, he carried a box in his arms. It was marked

FRAGILE.

"What is it?" I asked, shifting the baby in my

arm so I could sit up straighter.

"I don't know," Logan said. "It was just

delivered." He opened it and carefully lifted out its

contents, placing it at my side on the bed.

It was a perfectly rendered miniature of Troy's

cottage. Everything was there, even the maze behind

it.

"Well, I'll be darned," Logan said. "Look at

this. The roof lifts off."

He removed it and tinkling chimes played

Troy's favorite Chopin prelude. Within the cottage a

man who looked just like Troy rested on the floor, his

hands behind his head. At his side sat a girl who

looked very much like me when I had first come to

Farthy. Everything was just as it had been: the tiny

furniture, tiny dishes, even tiny tools to make toys. Only Troy could have made this Only Troy. He

knew. He knew she was his. And he wanted me to

know he knew. This was his way of telling me, his

way of claiming his daughter. Oh, Troy, how I wished