Read A Mother's Love for Free Online Page A

break, you know.”
    Trying to be conscious of everything at once, Kyra gathered Amanda close, forgetting for one second to uphold the floppy head, which rolled sideways sharply before Kyra caught it. The baby jerked, frightened, maybe hurt, before arms flailed out and she burst into wailing tears again.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Kyra pressed her cheek into the little face, but Amanda was inconsolable once more, raging against Kyra with the force of a gale. Tears stung Kyra’s eyes, and she abruptly handed the baby back to Emma. “You take her,” she said and rushed out of the cottage.

CHAPTER FIVE
    D YLAN HEARD THE BABY screech, then the door slam—Kyra, he was sure—and glanced out the window to see her storming away down the rocky bluff, her hair flying like wings around her head.
    He chuckled at the long, boyish stride, as unstudied and sturdy as that of a teenager, and put down the teapot. On the way to the door he gave his mother a wink. “You must admit she’s trying hard.”
    Emma inclined her head, neither yes nor no. “She can’t go running away every time things don’t go right.”
    Dylan had another theory—that Kyra was essentially shy and found it difficult to bumble about in front of strangers. Taking a cap from the rack, he ducked into the freshening wind coming off the waves, smelling a storm in the distance. A fishing boat made its way northwest to the harbor, shifting up and down like a cartoon. He didn’t see Kyra until he cut between the rocks to the small, pebbled beach.
    She sat with her knees clasped to her chest. The wind flung her curls every which way and swept the edges of her skirt back from her feet in ripples of thin pink and purple fabric. The white curve of her cheek showed something so bereft Dylan wanted to wrap her up close, hug away that loneliness he recognized.
    Though he made plenty of noise, she didn’t turn. “Go away. I’m just sulking for a minute. This is hard.”
    He settled beside her on the flat rock. The hem of her scarflike skirt flew over his knee, and he left it, touching the thin fabric with one finger. For a long time he didn’t say anything, giving her room to vent if she needed to. When she still didn’t speak, only stared out at the waves starting to churn a little in the wind, he said, “You’ve nearly got my mother eating out of the palm of your hand.”
    â€œThat won’t last long.” She turned her head and put a cheek on her knees. “Do you really like that casserole?”
    â€œKedgeree,” he said, grinning. “I do. It’s my favorite. We grew up on it.”
    â€œUgh. I hate fish. I don’t eat meat, but I hate fish.”
    â€œYou gave a command performance.”
    That brought a hint of a smile to her face. “Thanks.”
    He looked back to the waves. Tossed a rock, then another, toward the line of foam.
    â€œYou said ‘we’ grew up on it,” Kyra said. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
    â€œI do. Five of us, all told. Three of them live around here, and one’s gone to Australia, sort of a reverse wander.”
    â€œYou’re the youngest?”
    He cocked a grin her way. “I am not. Were you thinking I was so charming I must be the wee one?”
    â€œSo which is it?”
    â€œOldest.”
    Kyra frowned. “That doesn’t feel right. Your mother treats you like a younger son. Solicitously.”
    â€œI left home for a long time. Nearly fifteen years. I didn’t come home until three years ago.”
    â€œWhere did you go?”
    â€œAll over. I’m an engineer, an expert in big construction, roads and bridges. I lived in Malaysia and Australia and Latin America and California.” He tossed a rock, thinking of the tangles of bright pink flowers and mild weather. “I quite liked California.”
    â€œWhy did you come back?”
    He