Lilian Darcy - The Mummy Miracle

This little baby clearly belonged to Dev.

It explained exactly why his crooning and shushing and swaying had been so effective, earlier today. He’d had practice. Recent practice, and a lot of it.

“You’d better come in,” he said. “I think she’s going to sleep. You’re not catching her at the best time. I wish you could see her smiling, the way she’s been doing the past month.”

“It’s a girl?”

“Yes.”

Dev had just mentioned she’d been smiling for the past month, and Jodie had enough nieces and nephews that she knew when smiling happened—six weeks or so. This baby had to be about ten weeks old.

Do the math, Jodie, do the math. Nine months plus two and a half equals almost a year . When you were busy “getting the old crush out of your system,” last fall, the mother of Dev’s baby must already have been pregnant …

But where was the mother now? Who was the mother?

Dear Reader,

As any writer will tell you, some books are harder to write than others. This was one of those times when it all came together so clearly. I found myself with a gutsy heroine facing enormous challenges and a miracle or two, a hero who does the right thing but hasn’t yet learned what his heart really wants, and a loving family who sometimes make the wrong choices for the best of reasons, and there was the story.

Even so, there were some surprises as I wrote. Jodie’s career as a teacher of riding became more important than I thought it would be. It draws on all the experience I’m gaining from being involved with my daughter’s passion for horses. The night-time scene between Devlin and Jodie on their way back from an evening out wrote itself onto the page in a way I hadn’t planned, but as soon as it was there I knew it was right.

I hope this book makes you laugh and cry, and that you’re as eager for Jodie and Dev to find the path to their own happiness as I was.

Lilian Darcy

LILIAN DARCYhas written nearly eighty books. Happily married, with four active children and a very patient cat, she enjoys keeping busy and could probably fill several more lifetimes with the things she likes to do—including cooking, gardening, quilting, drawing and travelling. She currently lives in Australia, but travels to the United States as often as possible to visit family. Lilian loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at PO Box 532, Jamison PO, Macquarie ACT 2614, Australia, or e-mail her at lilian@liliandarcy.com.

Lilian Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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“I don’t think she’s ready yet.” The words floated up through Jodie’s open bedroom window from the back deck.

“Oh, I agree! She’s not!”

No one in the Palmer family ever thought Jodie was ready. She sat on her bed, struggling to raise her left arm high enough to push her hand through the strap on her summery, sparkly, brand-new tank top. The hand wouldn’t go, which meant she couldn’t start the long journey down the stairs to join the Fourth of July family barbecue as the—not her idea—guest of honor.

She pushed again, the feeble muscle refusing to obey the muddy signal from her brain. It was noon; time for everyone to start arriving. “So I guess they’re right. I’m not ready,” she muttered, but she knew this wasn’t what her sister Lisa’s comment had meant.

It had meant Not Ready, capital N , capital R , and during Jodie’s twenty-nine years had covered everything from her learning the shocking truth about the Easter Bunny at the age of seven, to going out on her first date at fifteen. She vaguely remembered from last summer, about a hundred years ago, that Elin had even questioned her readiness to see Orlando Bloom’s wedding photos in a magazine—and, admittedly, she had been a little envious of the bride.

What wasn’t she ready for this time?

It could be anything. Going back to work?

Well, yes, she knew she wouldn’t be doing that for a while, since she managed and taught at a riding barn for a living and spent hours in the saddle every week at Oakbank Stables.

Reading the police report on the accident scene? Might never be ready for that one. Fixing her own coffee? Wrong, sisters. She’d been practicing in rehab and, not to sound arrogant or anything, she was dynamite when it came to spooning the granules out of the jar.

“Guys?” she called out to her sisters. “Can I have some help up here?”

From down on the deck she heard an exclamation, voices, the scrape of chairs. Lisa and Elin both appeared half a minute later, flinging the bedroom door back on its hinges with a slam, wearing frightened looks to complement their red-white-and-blue patriotic earrings.

“It’s okay,” she told them. “You can put the defibrillator down and cancel the 911 call. I just can’t get my arm into this top, that’s all, and I know people will start arriving any second.”

“Maddy and John just drove up,” Lisa confirmed. “And Devlin was right behind them.”

“Devlin’s coming?” Jodie’s heart bumped sideways against her ribs. Dev. Every time she saw Dev …

There was an odd little silence. Possibly there was. It ended so quickly that she wasn’t even sure if it had happened.

“He’s been so great, hasn’t he?” Lisa said brightly. “How many times did he go in to see you, while you were in the hospital?”

“You tell me,” Jodie joked. “I was unconscious for most of them.”

“Do you remember anything from that time?” Elin asked, hesitant. At forty, she was the eldest of the four Palmer girls, and managed to be both the bossiest and the most nurturing at the same time. “The doctors said you might retain some memories, even from when you weren’t responsive.”

She and Lisa both stood there waiting for her reply, each almost holding their breath. Jodie fought a bad-tempered impulse to yell at them to stop the heck worrying about her so much!

Instead she said carefully, “I wouldn’t call them memories….”

“No …?” prompted Lisa.

“But let’s not talk about it now. Help me downstairs. I’m so slow. My brain sends the instructions but bits of my body don’t respond. I’m thrilled I managed to get into the jeans.”

Thirty-eight-year-old Lisa, sister number two, hugged Jodie suddenly with a warm, tight squeeze, and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek. Of the four Palmer girls, she and Jodie were physically the most alike, blonde and athletic, outdoorsy and lean. Lisa liked tennis and the beach and it had started to show in her tanned skin. She didn’t take care of it the way she should. Hugging her back, Jodie decided she’d have to give Lisa a sisterly lecture about that, soon, because Palmer overprotectiveness could cut both ways.