Breathless by Bonnie Edwards

look at the facts. Like a detective in a television show, she would make a board with every bit of information she knew.
    Once the details were laid out in a logical fashion, she hoped to see a pattern or a clue as to what her next step should be.
    If nothing came to her, she’d do what she dreaded most.
    She’d put the corset back on and see if she went back to her own life. If she didn’t at least try it on, she’d feel as if she were stealing the life that Stella had been meant to live.
    In spite of knowing that Blue McCann’s time on this earth was severely limited, it would be wrong to stay here and take Stella’s.
    Her narrow closet door looked whitewashed on the inside. Using a pencil, she listed the events as she recalled them. She even jotted the date she first saw the corset in the store window.
    Once everything she knew was listed in an arc with plenty of room between the spokes for ideas to be added, she sat back on her bed. Dressed in a soft cotton floor-length nightie, she tucked her knees up and covered her chilled toes with her hem.
    Then she stared.
    And she thought.
    And considered.

9
    B lue considered the events as she’d chronologically listed them on the inside of the closet door. But it wasn’t until she considered the emotional connections that she could make some sense of things.
    She had to combine her knowledge and understanding of everyone involved in this event. From both lives!
    Once she figured out that the interconnections couldn’t be dismissed as coincidence, her ideas began to take shape.
    She’d been abandoned as a baby. Then when her real mother had been found, she’d been left a ward of the state anyway. Her mother hadn’t wanted her. The drugs she was addicted to had won out over maternal love. Or maybe, her mother loved her too much to keep her in that lifestyle.
    Whatever. The end result was that Blue raised herself within the foster care system. By the time she was diagnosed with her lung disease, she’d already decided life was short, so her teens were one wild tear after another.
    Too many boyfriends, too much meaningless sex, and too many parties had further weakened her.
    It hadn’t been until her friend got pregnant that Blue found her calling. She’d worked and scrimped and saved and taken out loans in order to pay for her education as a doula.
    She’d wanted to ensure that babies were born into peaceful, happy environments. She wanted to support mothers so that their children had the best possible start in life. If she’d had the time, she’d have been a good doula, she just knew it.
    Stella’s strong hands had delivered children. Her fingers were long and narrow enough to reach in and help if necessary. She flexed her fingers, felt the strength in them. Stella had been a competent midwife, a confident woman, and Belle’s sister.
    A sister newly entrusted with a child’s life. A hidden child.
    The situation related to this unborn baby. Belle couldn’t raise it, not when a thriving business depended on her.
    Especially important were the secrets Belle kept. Blue didn’t want to know them, and she saw the sense in Belle keeping her sister a secret as well.
    She’d asked around, and Belle was known for living an emotionally isolated life. How that must burn! Belle was a warm, caring woman and was forced to deny her natural bent.
    She’d created a lovely home in Perdition House, where only the best would do. The girls who lived there deserved to work in a safe environment.
    The responsibilities loaded on Blue’s shoulders landed heavily. A child’s life, the secrets of a nation’s leaders, and her love for Colt warred for dominance.
    In the end, she knew she had to protect all three.
    Blue McCann had been fated to this life. Fated to take over Stella McCreedy’s body and raise her sister’s child.
    There were two people she needed to speak with, but she wasn’t sure how to reach them. A telephone hung on the kitchen wall, but it wasn’t like any one