“Jay, stop!” shouted Frannie. She braced her small hands on her hips, tipped her head up to Gretchen and announced sternly, “Gwamma, he’s getting away.”
Madison watched the action and tried to keep the relationships straight. The twins were first cousins once removed to their stepmother, Keely—who was their grandmother’s niece. And this was just the beginning. There would be all those siblings to meet and remember. Madison wondered a little frantically how she would keep them all straight.
“Come get me!” crowed Jake from the room beyond the wide arch straight ahead of them.
“Gwamma, come on!” Frannie yanked on Gretchen’s hand. “Wet’s go get’im.”
With a last wry smile at Madison, Gretchen allowed the little girl to pull her off in pursuit of the laughing boy.
“Come on in the kitchen,” said Keely. Her baby had hold of both of her thumbs and Keely waved her hands gently in the infant’s tiny grip. “Auntie G arrived today with four dozen sugar cookies she baked just this morning. I dare you to eat just one.”
“Madison Delaney,” said a deep voice from the top of the stairs. “It’s about time.” A tall, broad-shouldered lumberjack of a man stood at the top of the stairs, thick hair slicked back from his shower. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt and moccasins that made no sound as he started down the steps.
The baby cooed contentedly and Keely said, “Here’s Daniel.”
Madison stared as the big man came toward her. She saw her own resemblance to him, around the eyes, in the shape of his mouth.My brother, she thought, the two simple words so alien to her. Alien and also wonderful. And heartbreaking, too.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and kept coming, stopping a few feet away, his golden brows drawing together in concern. “Madison. You okay?”
She nodded, struck wordless by this moment, by this serious-eyed man and his sweet wife, the baby and the two kids and their grandmother Gretchen, who smelled like a bakery.
“Good,” Daniel said. “I’m so glad to see you.” He lifted his arms, not really reaching for her, but kind ofofferingto reach. If that worked for her, if she was willing.
She felt awkward and out of it. But somehow, she managed a wobbly smile. “Good to see you, too.” And then she took one weird, jerky step forward.
He did the rest, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tight.
* * *
In the big kitchen at the back of the house, Madison said yes to coffee and a couple of Gretchen’s truly outstanding cookies.
Daniel visited for a few minutes, and then said he would be right back. “I’m going to make a few calls, see if I can get more of the family over here tonight.”
Madison swallowed down her apprehensions at meeting more long-lost relatives and reminded herself that shewantedthis, to finally get to know the people she should have grown up with. He left the kitchen and returned about fifteen minutes later.
Within an hour, the house was full of Bravos. Percy and Daffodil Valentine arrived, too, both of them trim and spry, with white hair and the wrinkles a person gets from eighty-plus years of life. Madison was hugged and exclaimed over. Everyone seemed so happy to see her.
She met Harper and Hailey, who were seventh-and eighth-born of the siblings. They almost could have been twins, the physical resemblance between the two of them was so strong. And they both looked like Madison—or maybe she looked like them.
Hailey laughed about it. “Wait till Grace gets home for spring break next week. We’ll take pictures of all four of us. No one will be able to tell us apart.” It was an exaggeration, but notthatmuch of one.
The last arrivals came at a little before seven, Matthias and his wife, Sabra, who lived on Sabra’s farm near Astoria. And Aislinn and her husband, Jaxon Winter, the adopted son of Martin Durand. They’d driven over from Wild River Ranch, which Jaxon had eventually inherited after Martin Durand died.
Included on that memory stick Madison had studied so thoroughly was a copy of the final letter written by Durand to accompany his will. In the letter, he not only laid out how he’d switched two innocent babies at birth, but also that Aislinn and Jaxon had to marry for three months in order for Jaxon to get the ranch. Apparently, the forced marriage had turned into the real thing.
Which was great.
Martin Durand, though? Talk about a piece of work.
Aislinn was slender and small-boned, with an angular face, huge dark eyes and dark hair. She bore no physical resemblance to the rest of the Bravos. She didn’t look all that much like the mother who’d raised Madison, either. But there was something about her that felt so familiar. Something in her voice, in the way that she moved—it all whispered to Madison of Paula Delaney, somehow. Just being near her had Madison feeling at home and also missing her lost mom all over again.
Once everyone but Grace had arrived, they shared a potluck dinner of dishes brought by the various members of the family. There was roast chicken and mac and cheese with ham, ribs from a local restaurant and a variety of sides.
Sweet old Percy took Madison aside just before the food was served and explained that Martin Durand had left a DNA sample with a reputable lab. Aislinn had already been tested. The test proved she was Durand’s biological daughter.
“I don’t think any of us have much doubt who your blood parents were,” said Percy. “Still, it never hurts to take advantage of the proof that’s so readily available these days. Would you be open to sibling testing?” When she said that yes, she wanted to be tested, Percy asked if she would be available on Sunday. She said that she would, after which Percy called for everyone’s attention and got their unanimous agreement that they could make it on Sunday for dinner. Grace would be home for spring break by then, so all the siblings could be there. Percy would bring the test kits and all of them would provide DNA samples. Results would be available online sometime in the following week.
After three hours of intense togetherness with people she’d only just met, Madison needed a breather. She slipped out to the front porch and dropped gratefully into one of the comfy, cushioned chairs. It was dark by then, but not too cold. The porch lights cast everything in a golden kind of glow.
