Judy Duarte: Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three

“Funny thing about my folks,” he said, wanting to focus his thoughts on his parents’ divorce and not his own. “My father’s family had money and status. And they could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower. But that never seemed to be good enough for my mom.”

“Why not?”

He would have shrugged off her question, tried to avoid getting into a conversation that was too deep, one that reminded him of his own failed marriage and was too damn revealing. But for some reason, he cut to the chase. “Some women want more than some men can provide.”

She furrowed her brow, but didn’t respond. And he wondered whether she had any idea what he was talking about.

Probably not. But that was as far as it would go.

It was bad enough that Sullivan had to relive history in his mind. He didn’t need to open himself up to memories best left forgotten.

Lissa wasn’t sure what Sullivan meant. And maybe she should ask. But the fact was, they had nothing in common. Nothing on which to build any kind of relationship.

She was adopted and didn’t know her biological parents, and he had a lineage tracing back to the Mayflower.

He was outgoing and worldly—or so it seemed. And she was as plain and boring as a dust mop.

Still, she was impressed by his business sense and flattered by his charm.

Just then, Barney growled, as though facing a monstrous foe, then began tugging at Sullivan’s pant leg.

“Oh, Barney!” Lissa set down her wineglass and picked up the pesky pooch. “Don’t chew on people. That’s why you have toys.”

Sullivan didn’t appear to be bothered by the possibility of a rip or tear in what had to be expensive slacks. “He’s a cute little guy. Looks like he has a little collie in him.”

She laughed. “And a little beagle and Australian shepherd. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bit of dachshund thrown into the mix.”

Sullivan chuckled. “He is pretty long and close to the ground. Where’d you get him?”

“At the dog pound. His number was up, so I guess you could say I saved his life. They were going to put him to sleep if no one adopted him by the end of that day.”

For a moment, Lissa thought about how her parents had chosen her over other orphaned babies.

As a child, she would fantasize about her biological parents, the people who’d given her up. She often thought of them as young lovers, forced apart like Romeo and Juliet.

Once she’d imagined herself as the daughter of royalty, stolen by gypsies and taken to the Children’s Connection, where her adoptive parents took pity upon her.

But as she grew older, she put away her childhood fantasies, accepting the fact that her biological parents just hadn’t wanted to be bothered with a baby.

Or, more important, that they hadn’t wanted to be bothered with her.

That didn’t, of course, mean that she didn’t ever think about them. That she didn’t ever wonder who they were or where they lived.

Or whether they ever thought about her.

Jared Cambry sat with his wife behind the closed doors of his home office and studied the telephone he’d just hung up. He glanced at Danielle, who stood beside him, silent and hopeful. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes undoubtedly mirrored his own.

“What did Dr. Chambers say?” A sense of expectancy lingered in her voice, although her expression reflected the fear and despair they’d been living with since shortly after moving back to Portland.

Jared cleared his throat, trying to break free from the emotion lodged in his chest. “He said that the preliminary tests prove that none of us are a match.”

Danielle let out a sob she’d been holding back, and Jared quickly reached her side, taking her in his arms, trying to offer whatever support he could.

“We’re going to lose him,” she cried. “I feel so helpless.”

So did Jared.

Before the diagnosis, their lives had been perfect. Charmed.

He and Danielle were crazy about each other and had a great marriage. They’d thought their family was complete with a son and a daughter. But just eight years ago, they’d been blessed with an unexpected baby they’d named Mark.

Even as an infant, Mark had a joyful heart and a smile that lingered on his lips. He was a loving child, and he soon became the light of their lives.

As Danielle cried, Jared stroked her back, nestled his cheek against the dark-brown curls of her hair. Closed his eyes and blinked back his own tears.

God, this was hard. Brutal.

He held his wife close, trying to share his strength—or maybe to absorb some of hers.

Danielle was an admirable woman. And devoted to her family. At times, he felt as though she was the one who held them all together.

She had teaching credentials—high-school history—but since the birth of their oldest child, she’d been a stay-at-home mom who thrived on being the kind of mother every kid deserved.

Three active children kept her calendar full and her days busy, as she chauffeured them to orthodontic appointments, school events, piano lessons and Little League games. But she still found time to volunteer as a tutor in the adult literacy program at the library.

Jared looked at his wife, unable to tell her everything would be all right. How could he when he didn’t know if that was true?

“I’d thought Shawna would be the one,” she said. “She and Mark are so much alike.”

At fifteen, their daughter promised to be a lovely young woman. But the match could have easily been seventeen-year-old Chad, who was already proving to be a fine athlete, as well as a scholar.

They’d been blessed with three beautiful children. But all of that paled against the stark reality that had rocked their entire world during a youth soccer game.

While playing halfback for the Dragons, eight-year-old Mark had collapsed on the field. Jared had missed the game, since he’d been away on a business trip. But Danielle was there. And she’d rushed Mark to Portland General Hospital, where it was determined the boy had a rare blood disorder.

Without a bone-marrow transplant, their youngest son wouldn’t live past the age of ten.

Jared and Danielle had been devastated by the diagnosis but had immediately had the entire family tested as potential donors. Unfortunately, it turned out no one was a match.

“What do we do now?” she asked. “Besides pray that a suitable donor is found in time.”

Jared knew there was one last family member out there—somewhere. Someone who might prove to be a match. But finding him or her might be as difficult as finding an unrelated donor in the bone-marrow registry—possible, but against the odds.

“Sit down, Danni,” Jared told his wife. “I have something to tell you.”

She took a tissue from the wad she’d recently begun to carry in her pocket, wiped her eyes, then sat on the tufted leather seat near the lamp. She didn’t say anything. She merely twisted the tissue in her hands and waited for Jared to speak.

“When I was seventeen, I had a one-night stand with a teenaged girl that resulted in pregnancy.”

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him aghast, as though she’d been slapped. “How could you have kept that from me?”

“The girl just disappeared,” he said, wishing he’d said something to Danni sooner. They didn’t keep secrets from each other. Except for this one, he supposed. But he hadn’t known how to tell her, so he’d kept putting it off. “Her name was Olivia. And I’m not sure where she is, or whether she kept the baby or not. But that means we have one more possibility of finding a related match.”

His pretty dark-haired wife looked shocked, disappointed and more than a little bit angry. And he couldn’t blame her for feeling that way.