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gives?”
    â€œCriminy, Ivy!” So much for his better mood. Still chewing, Ryan lifted his bleary gaze to hers. How other folks survived morning conversations was beyond him. “What lit your fire this morning?”
    With a loud sigh, she dropped onto the chair opposite him, rubbing the baby’s back. “I’m worried about you, is all. Figured that fell to me when your mama died. She’d be all over your case, and you know it.”
    This, he didn’t need. On top of having people cluttering up his kitchen, a woman he didn’t quite know what to do with in his guest room and a practice that kept him running ragged but close to the poverty line at the same time, Ivy’s reminding him about his mother was just one straw too many.
    Yes, Mary Logan certainly would be on his case. Not to mention his brothers’ as well. When it came to getting their acts together, lifewise and lovewise, all three of her sons seemed to have struck out. And for a woman who’d preached the family unit as the bedrock of civilization the way she did—and lived it, to boot—her sons’ disastrous records would have sent her to her grave, if cancer hadn’t done the job first when Hank and Cal were still in their teens.
    The family had drifted apart after her death, like a solar system without its sun. Not so much physically—all three of them were right there in Haven—but emotionally. And Big Hank, their father, hadn’t seemed to know how to bind up the wounds, either. Had too many of his own to tend to, would be Ryan’s guess. Wounds from which he never fully recovered. The old man simply faded into himself, little by little, quietly dying in his sleep five years after his wife’s passing.
    Mama would have given them all hell, if not the back of her hand, for giving in like that. For giving up. And Ivy, who’d been Mary’s best friend, had simply taken up their mother’s cause. One day, Ryan supposed, he’d appreciate it.
    One day. Not this morning. Not when the events of the last few hours seemed hell-bent on rattling him to kingdom come.
    So he impaled a sausage, waved it at her. “Do me a favor, Ivy—stick to midwifery. Which reminds me…the Lewis baby turned yet?”
    â€œYesterday, thank you, so no, I don’t need you, and you’re changing the subject.”
    He stuffed the whole sausage in his mouth, mumbled, “Damn straight,” around it.
    Ivy let out a little sigh of her own, shifted the dozing infantto a more secure position on her shoulder. “You know she’s got to stay here, don’t you?”
    His plate clean, Ryan kicked back the last of his juice, got up to carry his dishes to the sink. “I’m hardly going to turn the woman and her kids out, Ivy.”
    â€œI know that. But I figured you’d probably try to find someplace else for her to stay.”
    He shook his head, washing up his few dishes, then started in on the griddle and skillet. “No. At least not for the next week or so. I want to keep an eye on her. And the baby.”
    â€œAnd then?”
    Yeah, well, that was what was making the eggs and sausage do somersaults in his stomach, wasn’t it? “I don’t know. She tell you she’s kin to Ned McAllister?”
    Ivy heavy brows lifted. “No. How?”
    â€œHer husband’s great-uncle.”
    She angled her head. “And her husband is…?”
    â€œDead.” Ryan took a moment to let some of the anger burn off, then said, “Jerk left her with nothing.”
    â€œOh…that poor thing.”
    Ryan turned to Ivy, wiping his hands in a dishtowel. “You saw the scars?”
    Ivy sighed. “The father?”
    â€œAccording to Maddie. I see no reason not to believe her.”
    That was worth several seconds’ clucking. “Life’s thrown some real curve balls at that young woman.”
    Ryan couldn’t disagree there. He