Breath of Dawn, The by Kristen Heitzmann

guess the doctors had was that sobering up and boosting his immune system for the bone-marrow donation had created a sensitivity to alcohol, an allergic reaction. But Kelsey had prayed for him to get sick when he drank, and frankly that was more believable. From his dying child’s lips to God’s ear.
    Coming out of the bathroom clean and dressed in fresh clothes, he watched Livie kneeling on the floor and drawing lines and circles with a red crayon on a paper and telling him what they were, because they looked so much like lines and circles. If Kelsey’s death hadn’t reunited him with Jill, he wouldn’t have Livie. He wouldn’t have this heartache, wouldn’t have this joy. Why did every bright cloud have a dark lining?
    “Come on, honeybee. Let’s have dinner.”
    He gave her Cheerios and grapes and sat with her while she ate. Then he took her to the main house and snuggled with her in the overstuffed recliner. In seconds, Liam found the side not occupied and burrowed in. Morgan took a deep breath and settled his soul.
    If someone had told him he’d be spending Saturday evenings with Rick and Noelle in praise and worship, he would have scoffed mightily. But he knew what happened when the mighty scoffed. With Rick leading on guitar and Noelle playing piano, he sat among their friends, the two dozy kids plastered to his chest.
    “. . . He will raise you up on eagle’s wings, bear you on the breath of dawn . . .”
    Voices blended and soared, faithful hands swayed. He turned his face and kissed the top of Livie’s head, gratitude coursing through him. For this child he’d offer praise and worship and supplication to God. He breathed her scent like incense burned on the altar of his heart.
    When he opened his eyes, Rick had lifted the guitar strap over his neck and laid the instrument in the case. The fire had burned to coals and both children slept soundly. The joy and serenity the guests carried out were real, but he couldn’t entirely get there. He’d come so far from the reckless ne’er-do-well, but, like freedom, courage was another word for nothing left to lose.
    Rick peeled Liam off and carried his sleeping son up to bed. Noelle looked better than she had in days—praise did that for her. Funny, considering she’d been highly allergic to religion when she arrived, making his cynical faith look pious. She whispered good-night and brushed a hand over Livie’s damp hair.
    Wondering how he’d make himself get on a plane and fly miles away, he bundled his sleeping daughter warmly for their trek to the cabin. Inside, he laid Livie in her crib, stood another moment watching her breathe, then went to his own room and turned on the monitor so he could hear her breathe all night.

    Since Morgan would be out of town, Quinn gave herself a break from the cellar. She focused on listing the collectibles, decorativeitems, small furnishings, and vintage clothes. She had gathered as much from Vera’s as she might have from multiple sources. In spite of everything she had to wade through, Vera’s estate was, in fact, a gold mine.
    All the work she’d put in would be well accounted for, and she should have felt great. But looking around her warehouse, she realized she’d collected enough merchandise to suffer an actual loss if anything happened, if not in expenditure, then at least in potential sales. Frowning, she reminded herself again that the chances of being located were small.
    Except for secure things like the IRS records and her PayPal account, she practically lived off the grid. While law enforcement had ways to subpoena those records, an individual shouldn’t. If she had no contact with people who already knew next to nothing, she’d be as invisible as a person could be with real bones and blood and attitude.
    It wouldn’t hurt, however, to follow up on the possibility of a dog. Leaving off for the day, she headed for the nearest animal shelter, more appropriately called a rescue, since it was run