A Prince for Jenny (18 page)

Oh, there she was again. Dreaming impossible dreams. Daniel and Megan and Patrick were all she needed.

"I think six children will need a full-time father, don't you, Jenny?" Daniel tipped her face up, smiling at her.

"Six? But, Daniel..."

"Shh." He kissed her once more. "Nothing is impossible, Jenny."

 o0o

Sitting side by side in the adoption agency, Daniel and Jenny held hands and listened to the bad news.

"There is a waiting list of about two years." Mrs. Lorene Henley restacked a set of file folders threatening to topple off the edge of her desk. Her frizzy hair stuck out around her head like a scrub pad and her brow was drawn together in a perpetual frown. She was overworked and understaffed.

"So long?" Jenny said.

"I'm sorry. You'd be amazed at the childless couples standing in line for a strong, healthy baby." She liked Daniel and Jenny Sullivan. Not only liked them, but wanted to help them. If only there were a way.

"Do you have others?" Daniel's voice was quiet, determined.

And suddenly Lorene Henley knew the way.

"There is one child ... three years old." She scrambled through the stack of folders, pulled out a photograph, and handed it to Daniel and Jenny.

A little boy with a cherub's face and big dark eyes smiled back at them. He had the dusky skin of his Spanish mother, the curly hair of his Scottish father, and a determined little chin all his own. He was seated in a rocking horse with one leg firmly in the stirrup—and one leg missing.

"His name is Kevin," Lorene said. "Nobody wants him."

Jenny and Daniel gazed at the small homeless child and then at each other.

"We do," they said.

Epilogue

Megan had nicknamed the bus Rover.

Rover was well traveled and dusty, his springs sagging and his upholstery wanting a good cleaning from all the peanut butter and jelly stains. In spite of his shortcomings, Rover was staunch.

He rocked down the road, carrying his lively crew. Kevin, six years old and growing like a weed, had the voice of an angel. He was leading his brothers and sisters in a tune he'd learned at kindergarten. Clayton and Randy couldn't say the words right and might never be able to, but that didn't stop them from trying. They sang with all the fervor of four-year-olds who knew that extravagant praise would be forthcoming from their parents.

Baby Sally would never hear the music, but she smiled up at her mother anyway. She understood love.

Megan and Patrick, who prided themselves on being the oldest, tried not to drown out the little ones with their singing. Irish to the tips of their toes, they had their father's good voice and his fondness for song.

"Join in, Daddy!" Kevin yelled.

The other children took up the cry. "Yeah, Daddy! Join in!"

Daniel pulled the bus to a stop in a small forest glade and joined his children's song. The lines of worry that had once creased his face had disappeared. He laughed and sang a lot now. And loved.

A flush crept into Jenny's face. Oh, how he loved.

Cuddling her baby close, she listened to the voice of her husband singing to his happy children.

It took a special man to share love with children nobody else wanted. But then what had she expected of a man who loved a woman nobody else dared love?

Daniel glanced at her, his eyes twinkling, and she gave him a small secret smile.

 -o0o-

Author’s Note

 When I created the special child, Jenny, so many years ago, I never dreamed that she would touch the hearts of so many people! Fans loved her and wrote beautiful letters asking what happened to her.

 Jenny touched my heart, too. Every time I read Touched by Angels, I laugh and I cry. And I root for that stubborn , endearing little special child.

 Jenny is based on a special child in my family, a little girl named Cooper. She didn’t have Downs Syndrome or any of its identifiable characteristics. You never knew Cooper was special until you talked to her. She perfectly understood everything. But her ability to communicate perfectly was trapped somewhere inside. She often resorted to eloquent gestures, and sometimes to a pretty pout and a quick temper. But always, her stubborn will drove her forward.

 Cooper was taken from us before we got to find out what sort of woman she would have become.

 In this sequel to
Touched by Angels
, it was my great pleasure to imagine a grown-up Cooper in the young woman Jenny became. I’m delighted I can bring
A Prince for Jenny
back to you as an e-book.

 Peggy Webb

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Author Bio

 Peggy Webb is the author of more than 65 books, 200 magazine columns and two screenplays. Her debut romance,
Taming Maggie
, hit the number one spot on romance bestseller lists. Since then she has consistently appeared on the bestsellers lists and has won numerous awards, including the Romantic Times Pioneer Award for forging the way for the sub-genre of romantic comedy. During her tenure as an instructor of writing at MississippiStateUniversity, Peggy left the lure of romance and turned her pen to murder. Currently she writes cozy mysteries. Her Southern Sisters Mystery series stars the zany Valentine cousins, Callie and Lovie, and a sassy basset hound named Elvis who thinks he’s the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll reincarnated. Peggy also writes novels under the pen name Anna Michaels.
The Tender Mercy of Roses
, her debut novel as Anna, was hailed by Pat Conroy as “an unforgettable story written with astonishing skill and clarity by a truly gifted writer.” Peggy lives in an enchanted cottage tucked in the northeast corner of Mississippi. She loves gardening, playing piano, singing in her church choir and trying to tame two dogs who think they are the boss of the household. Visit Peggy/Anna at her websites,
www.peggywebb.com
and
www.annamichaels.net
, and follow her on Facebook.

o0o

Other E-Books from Peggy Webb

Classic Romance (originally published as Loveswept)

Dark Fire   

Touched by Angels
(RT Reviewer’s Choice)

A Prince for Jenny
, sequel to
Touched by Angels

The Edge of Paradise

Duplicity
(Rave review, RT Reviewer’s Choice)

Where Dolphins Go
(RT Reviewer’s Choice, women’s fiction, optioned for film)

Night of the Dragon
(time travel romance)

Christmas in Time
(time travel, brand now, prequel to Only Yesterday)

Only Yesterday
(time travel)

E-books Coming Soon

The Donovan Series:

Donovan’s Angel

Sleepless Nights

Hallie’s Destiny
(award winning book)

Any Thursday

Higher Than Eagles

Southern Cousins Mysteries, Peggy Webb (available in print and e-books)

Published by Kensington

Elvis and the Dearly Departed
, 2008

Elvis and the Grateful Dead
, 2009

Elvis and the Memphis Mambo Murders
, 2010

Elvis and the Tropical Double Trouble
, Oct. 1, 2011

Novels written as Anna Michaels (available in hardcover and e-book)

The Tender Mercy of Roses
(Gallery, Simon & Schuster, May 17, 2011)

o0o

Elvis and the Tropical Double Trouble, Excerpt

(Fourth Southern Cousins Mystery)

Elvis’ Opinion # 1 on the Valentines, Manicures, and Mooreville’s Royalty

Ever since I used my famous nose to crack the Memphis Mambo Murder Case, things have gone to the dogs around here. And I don’t mean to a musical genius in a basset hound suit, either. (That would be yours truly.)

To hear my human mom tell it (that would be Callie Valentine Jones, owner of the best little beauty shop this side of the Mason Dixon Line), life just couldn’t get any better. She thinks she’s happy since she said “The Last Farewell” to Jack (my human daddy) up in Memphis, but I know better. When she’s not giving New York hairdos to Mooreville’s finest and doling out the dough for her mama’s little gambling escapades – and every other kind of escapade Ruby Nell Valentine can think of – she’s sitting on the front porch swing with a faraway look in her eyes that says, “Stuck on You.”

Listen, I know she believes Jack is finally going to give her a divorce so she can have her heart’s desire with somebody who won’t spend more time in the world’s underbelly avoiding bullets than he does in the gazebo with Callie and her “Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hounddog” best friend. (I’m not even going to talk about Hoyt, that ridiculous cocker spaniel pretender to my throne, and the seven silly cats who took up residence with us when Callie rescued them and dragged them home.)

Believe me, Jack’s face said it all when Callie and the rest of our gang headed home from Memphis - “There Goes My Everything.” A man that smitten is not going to let his woman go, no matter how noble he thinks the gesture might be.

I’m trying to teach Jack and Callie to be thankful for what they’ve got – each other plus a suave, famous Rock ‘n’ Roll King who is content to live a dog’s life in order to make his humans happy. Instead, they’re intent on turning everything upside down to get what they think Callie wants. A child. Otherwise known as a short, not-too-bright little person who makes car noises all day long, smears peanut butter on my pink satin guitar-shaped pillow, pulls my mismatched ears, runs Tonka trucks up the legs of Callie’s customers, and generally has turned everything upside down here at Hair.Net.

 This particular little person is David. He was part of the package when his mom, Darlene, (Callie’s new manicurist) moved in lock, stock, and uppity Lhasa Apso.

 That would be William, who claims he’s the Dalai Lama reincarnate. He’s prancing around here, even as I speak, acting like he outranks the King. I thought he’d get the message when I howled “The Great Pretender,” but he just did his silly Lhasa flop that made Callie say, “Isn’t he the cutest little dog?”

 Cute, my slightly crooked hind leg. “Don’t Step on my Blue Suede Shoes” is what she ought to be saying. That silly fuzz ball’s motto is “Rip It Up.”

 Mine is “Suspicious Minds.” Listen, you can’t trust a dog with a bushy tail. What’s the use of a tail that can’t point rabbits? Or thump the floor like a drum? Or whack your human mom’s legs to let her know you love her?

 Wait till Callie finds out William sneaked into the beauty shop closet and chewed the toe out of her favorite Steve Madden moccasins. She loves her designer shoes.

 But even with that dumb dog chewing up everything in sight and trying to steal my spotlight and David trying to pull my tail, I’ll have to admit business has picked up around Hair.Net. Ever since Fayrene’s daughter moved back home with her entourage (which includes a cat named Mal that I’m not even going to dignify with a comment) and started dispensing Atlanta nail art, we’ve been booked to the hilt. Everybody who is anybody comes here to have Darlene paint witches and pumpkins on their toes. And while they’re at it, they end up getting a new hairdo for Halloween.

 Business is popping over at Gas, Grits and Guts, too. People have been coming from Mantachie and Saltillo and even as far off as Red Bay, Alabama, to admire Fayrene and Jarvetis’ disco ball dance trophy. They hung it over the pickled pigs’ lips then proceeded to spotlight it so it would send rainbows over the Vlasic pickles and Lay’s potato chips. My best friend, Trey (Jarvetis’ redbone hounddog), tells me that Fayrene and Jarvetis (Mooreville’s answer to royalty), are acting like lovebirds these days in spite of the fact that work is progressing on the séance room he said she’d build onto the back of their convenience store over his dead body.

And speaking of dead bodies…ever since Charlie Valentine thought Ruby Nell was going to join the body count during the Memphis Mambo Murders, he’s back to being her best friend as well as the backbone of the entire Valentine family. As a matter of fact, he’s planning to take her to the undertaker’s convention in the Yucatan.

That leaves only one Valentine unaccounted for – Lovie, Callie’s 190-pound, over-the-top, flamboyant cousin. Currently she’s in the Yucatan at Rocky’s archeological dig promoting an agenda that features the love of her life discovering her “national treasure.” She had that tattooed on her bombshell hips when we left off trying to catch a killer long enough to have a little fun up on Beale Street in Memphis. Personally, I think the “national treasure” ought to be added to the list of world wonders.

Here comes that five-year-old, pretending he’s a Peterbilt rig. I’d escape through the doggie door and mosey on down to see what’s cooking with my cute Frenchie (that would be Ann Margret) and my five handsome progeny, but somebody has to keep things straight around here. Ruby Nell will be here any minute. She called to say she wanted to get spiffied up for her trip, but you can bet she’s up to something. And I’m just the dog to find out. These mismatched radar ears miss nothing.

 Well, bless’a my soul. The little person is carrying a cone of vanilla ice cream. That goofy Lhasa just waves his useless, ostentatious tail, but I know opportunity when it knocks.

I heft myself off my cushion, hum of a few bars of “Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear,” then mosey on over to see if the short person will let me lick ice cream off his elbows.