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there’s nothing on earth—or in heaven, for that matter—that’s going to convince me to turn any member of my family over to a stranger, no matter how strong that stranger might think her claim is.”
    Callie pursed her lips, not trusting herself to respond immediately. It wasn’t about just Annabeth now. All three youngsters deserved to have a proper Christian influence in their lives. It was what their parents would have wanted for them, and it was the right thing to do. Actually, it was the most important thing.
    She might not be the best person to fill that role, but God could use even the most flawed vessel to do His work. She was more determined than ever to have a hand in raising these children.
    She focused again on Leland’s brother. He seemed to have nothing in common at the moment with the compassionate, generous man she’d come to know through years of correspondence.
    Not the praying kind indeed!
    Time to try another tack. “Mr. Tyler, I find myself quite weary from the day’s events, and would prefer not to stand here arguing with you. I’d like to meet Annabeth and then find a place to refresh myself, if you don’t mind.”
    His eyes narrowed and she wondered for a minute if he would continue to argue despite her request. But he gave a quick nod. “Of course. This way.”
    As he offered his arm he gave her a warning look. “Just don’t think this means I’ve changed my thinking. You’re welcome to stick around if you’ve a mind to. But the care of the children— all of the children—is my responsibility.”
    We’ll just see about that . After the briefest of hesitations,she placed her hand on his arm, giving him her sweetest smile. “I must admit, your concern for the well-being of the children does do you credit, Mr. Tyler.”
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    Jack escorted his suspiciously compliant sister-in-law to Mrs. Mayweather’s home. The woman wasn’t fooling him with that winsome smile and those sugar-coated words of hers. He knew good and well she hadn’t given up the battle yet.
    Well, she could scheme and plot all she wanted. It didn’t change his mind one jot about his duty to Annabeth, Simon and Emma.
    But as they drew closer to Mrs. Mayweather’s home, his thoughts turned from Lanny’s widow to the three children.
    What was he going to say to them? He was their closest living kin, but he’d never laid eyes on them before—not since Nell’s oldest was an infant, anyway—and they certainly didn’t know him.
    How much had their parents told them about him? Or had the subject of their absent Uncle Jack ever even come up?
    How would they react when they met him? How would he deal with their grief when he was still trying to absorb the loss himself?
    His free hand clenched and unclenched. How could this woman walking beside him talk about looking to God for guidance when that same God allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? If the Almighty had wanted to take another Tyler, it should have been him. His passing, unlike that of his brother and sister, wouldn’t have left a hole in anyone’s life.
    His face must have betrayed some of what he was thinking because Callie cast a questioning glance his way. Luckily, they had finally reached Mrs. Mayweather’s front gate.
    â€œHere we are,” he said, cutting off any comment she mighthave made. He opened the gate without meeting her gaze and gestured for her to precede him up the flagstone walkway.
    Before they’d made it halfway to the porch, a tall, spare woman stepped out to greet them.
    Age had definitely not interfered with Mrs. Mayweather’s commanding presence. From the top of her tightly wound, steel gray bun to the hem of her no-frills, severely cut skirt, she still had that force-to-be-reckoned-with schoolmarm look that could quiet a classroom full of rowdy children with just a raised