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again?
    â€œMack,” Jeannie asked, commanding attention as she stretched and leaned back into her chair, “what period of history interests you the most?”
    â€œPrehistoric,” he said swiftly.
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œBecause the lines were so clear in those days. Survival was all that mattered. Find a cave, find a mate, make a home, go out and hunt a bear or two for food,clothing and fat for the fire. Simple. Hard, but simple.”
    â€œSounds rather macho,” Leeza murmured.
    Mack waved a hand in a noncommittal gesture but nodded as he took a sip of wine. “Oh, there were plenty of matriarchal tribes then, too, but the bottom line was still the same. Survival.”
    â€œWhat about happiness?” Corrie asked, twisting her own untouched wineglass around, wondering why his answer might mean something important.
    â€œHappiness?” he asked.
    Corrie thought he repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before, didn’t know its meaning.
    He turned to look at her, as if he were trying to imprint some unspoken knowledge on her, and answered, “Happiness was a matter of security, safety, ensuring everyone in the cave had shelter, food and water. Safety. That’s all that matters.”
    She heard his switch from past to present tense. “But—”
    The door to the kitchen burst open and a beaming Analissa sailed through, carrying a tray laden with ice cream in paper cups.
    â€œDessert,” she called, and, taking small, heel-to-toe steps, made her careful progress to Mack.
    He looked at her as if surprised she’d returned, as if the little girl, all by herself, was a miracle on this ranch in the middle of nowhere.
    He gave one of those half lifts of his lips. The little girl nodded solemnly. “You’re here,” she said. The smile that followed her words could have lit the entire city of Carlsbad.
    Mack cleared his throat. “I’m here.”
    Little Analissa turned her beaming face to Corrie. “Just like he promised.”
    From her place beside Mack, Corrie saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, not as if he were laughing, but as if he were biting back some emotion too bitter to swallow. “Just like,” she said.
    â€œAnd you’re gonna stay here with us, right?” Analissa asked, leaning forward, tipping the tray dangerously.
    Mack caught the tray before the ice cream in the Dixie cups slid to the floor. “I’m here,” he agreed.
    Analissa launched herself at him, her baby arms thin and spindly against his broad, rock-hard shoulder. The tray teetered dangerously, but not half as much as Corrie suspected Mack’s emotions might be tipping. “To stay?”
    Corrie rescued him. “To stay, sweetie. He’s here to stay,” she said, reaching out to stroke Analissa’s silky hair.
    Mack didn’t say anything. He set the tray on the table and gently dislodged Analissa from his arm as he pushed to his feet.
    The rest of the children poured through the open doorway, treats in store, and raced around the table, making sure everyone had at least two of the prized biscochitos.
    â€œYou’re not leaving, Señor Mack?” Juan Carlos asked.
    â€œReally, you must try one of Rita’s biscochitos. She makes the best anywhere on earth,” Leeza said.
    â€œHe’s got to go,” Analissa said, all six of her years showing, and twenty-five more to boot. “But he’sstaying here now. Corrie says. He’s going to stay with us.”
    A cheer went around the table, with a few I-told-you-so’s from Juan Carlos and nods from Jorge.
    Corrie thought Mack’s face would have paled had his scarred skin allowed it to do so. Instead, he only stood above them all, seemingly carved in granite, and as acutely uncomfortable as a man could possibly be.
    â€œI’ll walk you out,” she said.
    â€œIt’s not necessary,” he answered. “Thank you all for the