Dawn of the Golden Promise by BJ Hoff Page A

year and a half, Michael. I had hoped that by now…”
    She let her words drift off, incomplete.
    After a moment, Sara felt his arm go around her. With his free hand, he turned her face toward his. “Ah, Sara,” he said softly, shaking his head, “ever in a hurry. Even for a babe.”
    Sara tried to smile, but as always he saw past her pretense.
    â€œWe have time, sweetheart. Plenty of time.”
    â€œBut you want children, too, Michael! You have Tierney, of course, but even before we were married, you admitted you wanted other children…our children.”
    He moved to take her by the shoulders. “I do, Sara a gra. As many as the good Lord sees fit to give us. But if either of us should be in a hurry, it ought to be me. I’m the one with silver in my hair, not you.”
    â€œIt’s different for a man,” she said, brushing off his reference to the difference in their ages. “A woman has only so many child-bearing years. If we want a large family, we need to get started.”
    â€œRight now?”
    At the glint of amusement in his eye, Sara gave him a look.
    His expression sobered. “Sara, I understand. I do, sweetheart,” he insisted when Sara moved to protest. “And, yes, I want children with you. But do you understand that even if by some chance we don’t have a child right away, it will make no difference to me? None at all. You are enough family for me, Sara—you and Tierney. You will always be enough for me.”
    The tenderness in his eyes melted Sara’s heart. “Oh, Michael! You’re enough for me, too. I’m awful to want anything more than I already have, I know! It’s just that seeing Kerry tonight with little Amanda…somehow it made me want a baby right now !”
    He gave a soft laugh, then dipped his head to kiss her. “Well, then,” he said, still holding her, “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to get started on the nursery, for when you set your head to something, it’s as good as done.”

    Later that night, Jess Dalton sat at his desk in the library, pretending to work on his most recent book, a collection of writings taken from former slaves who had escaped to the North. But he had accomplished little so far this evening. He was more intent on watching his wife entertain their son and little Amanda.
    The door was open, and he could see directly across the hall into the parlor, where Kerry, Casey-Fitz, and the little girl they hoped to make their legal daughter were enjoying their evening story hour.
    Amanda, not quite two, was perched on Kerry’s lap, her curly blond head bobbing up and down as if she knew exactly what was coming next. Casey-Fitz was sprawled at his mother’s feet. From the rapt look on the boy’s face, Jess was certain that he was listening to one of Kerry’s lively retellings of an Irish legend.
    Tapping his pen, Jess studied the scene across the hall with a contented smile. It was difficult to realize that the fiery-haired little boy they had adopted a few years ago was now twelve. From all signs, Casey-Fitz would fulfill the promise of his childhood. He was fast maturing into an intelligent, sensitive lad who seemed destined to do something fine, something noble, with his life. He often spoke of becoming a physician, or perhaps a medical researcher.
    Jess wondered again at how the boy, though adopted, resembled Kerry so closely in physical appearance. He no longer found the resemblance as surprising as he once had; the years had convinced him that the Lord must have handpicked Casey-Fitz especially for them—and particularly for Kerry.
    Kerry. What a gift she was to him! He could still remember the first time he had seen her, when she stepped off the steamer at West Point: a feisty, achingly lovely, petite waif, with one copper curl escaping from the hood of her cloak and a look in her eye that plainly said she would rather be anywhere else