He had an air about him, she thought, one of confidence and power. He pulled off his sunglasses with one hand, held the other up in a wait signal. More cars and trucks rolled in—more than the fifteen Jonah had estimated. Some with what she thought were horse trailers.

The man scanned the street, the people, appearing to judge whether they held welcome or aggression. He seemed prepared for either.

Beside her, Jonah shifted, then stepped down to walk to him.

“Jonah Vorhies.” After the briefest hesitation, Jonah offered a hand.

“Max Fallon.” Max accepted the hand. “Are you in charge?”

“Ah—”

Arlys went with instinct, speaking as she walked down to join them. “We were the first here. Arlys Reid.”

A woman got out of the passenger side—earning a quick, warning glance from Max.

She wore her long, dark blond hair in a ponytail. A T-shirt bagged over her small baby bump.

“I know you,” she said as she skirted the hood of the car. “I watched your broadcasts. Clung to them right up to the day we left New York. I’m Lana. Max and I lived in Chelsea.”

Lana laid a hand on Max’s arm. “We followed your signs,” she added. “From…”

“South of Harrisburg,” Max said when Lana glanced at him. “We picked up people along the way.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Jonah held his ground as a skinny guy and a tail-wagging dog climbed out of the backseat. “How many are you?”

“Ninety-seven people, eighteen of them under fourteen. Eight dogs—two of them pups—three dairy cows, two Holsteins and a Guernsey, and a bull calf. Two Black Angus calves. Five horses, including a pregnant mare, eight cats, about a dozen chickens, and a rooster.”

Jonah blew out a breath. “That’s a lot. You’re the biggest group we’ve ever had come in even without all the livestock. Are you looking to settle here?”

“New Hope. Following your signs gave people that.” Max looked back as a muscular black man and a tough-looking white man started down the line of cars.

Arlys flicked them a glance, then focused. Her heart literally bumped in her chest. “Oh my God. Oh God. Will? Will Anderson.” Flying on joy, she rushed him, flung her arms around him. She felt him stiffen, start to draw back. “It’s Arlys, Will. Arlys Reid.”

“Arlys?” He yanked her back, stared at her with stormy blue eyes. “Jesus. Jesus. Arlys. My dad? Where’s my dad?”

She gripped his arm tight, felt it quiver, and pointed up the street where Bill walked down the line of cars.

“Dad!”

Bill stopped and, as his legs buckled, braced on the side of a truck, a hand extended toward his son. Will took off running.

“New Hope,” Lana murmured as she watched father and son embrace. “It’s what we all need. What we’re all looking for.”

“Bill never gave up.” Jonah let out a sigh. “It looks like we’ve got our first New Hope traffic jam. I guess we’d better figure out how to handle it. We’ve got a system. It’s still got kinks, but it’s a system. Maybe we can start with pulling some of these vehicles into the school parking lot.”

“Is there somewhere we can unload the animals?” Max asked. “They’re going to need food and water.”

“Ah.” Jonah scratched the back of his neck. “Rachel, we should contact whoever’s out at the farm. It wasn’t actually a farm until recently,” he told Max. “There are a couple, but they’re too far from town for safety so we’re improvising. We’ve got a couple of cows, a couple of horses, a nanny goat, and some chickens. We’ve got a feedstore, but we’re going to need more feed with what you’ve brought in. We’ve got some hay going. I can’t tell you much about that. I’m no farmer.”

“We’ve got two with us.”

“Better and better. Aaron!” Jonah signaled a man across the street. “Can you get a couple of people to help lead the trailers to the farm, get them set up?” He bent to pet the dog who came over to sniff at him. “Good-looking dog.”

“Best dog ever. He’s Joe. I’m Eddie. I can lend a hand with the animals,” he told Max. “I saw you on TV, too,” he said to Arlys. “Got yourself some good-looking rug rats,” he added with an easy grin as he looked at the babies. “We got a handful of our own on the wagon train.”

“Let’s get some of these vehicles into the lot. Pass the word down the line, will you, Poe?”

“Sure thing.”

“Once you do, we’ve got a sign-up system. We’re trying to keep track of people. Names, ages, skills.” Jonah gestured. “Katie’s in charge of that. I think she could use some help with this many.”

“I’ve got it,” Katie said. “How far along are you?” she asked Lana.

“About four and a half months. Are they … triplets?”

“They’re all mine.”

Lana let out a shaky breath, rubbed her bump. “Wow.” Looked at Max. “Wow.”

He put an arm around her shoulders, kissed her temple. “Let’s get the cars out of the road.”

“You do that. I’m fine here. I can … sign us in. Max.” She patted a hand on his heart when he hesitated. “Trust goes both ways. We’ve had trouble along the way,” she said.

“We all have. Any medicals with you?” Rachel asked.

“A retired nurse—he’s great. Go ahead.” Lana gave Max a nudge. “A nursing student, and she’s coming along. A vet. A firefighter and two cops with emergency training. No doctors, but—”

“Rachel’s a doctor,” Katie put in. “And Jonah’s a paramedic.”

“A doctor.” Now Lana pressed a hand to her belly, looked at Rachel with eyes full of relief. “Max.”

He stroked a hand down her back. “I’ll be right back. She’d feel better if a doctor examined her and the baby.”

“That’s what we’ll do. Lana, you said?”

“Lana Bingham.” Lana held out a hand to Rachel as she walked up. “I’m twenty-eight. I’m a chef—was a chef. I—”

Surprised, she jerked when Duncan reached for her. Babbling, he wiggled in his mother’s arms, straining toward Lana.

“I know next to nothing about having a baby or what to do after I have one.” With obvious nerves, she took Duncan.

He laid a hand on her heart, and those nerves dropped away. She felt his light as cleanly as she felt the light inside her.

She found herself staring back into deep infant blue eyes, but with green edging in the sunlight.

“He’s special—I mean, he’s beautiful.” She continued to look at him as she spoke. “If you don’t want Uncannys in New Hope, it’s best if you tell us now.”

Duncan curled his hand around her finger, and light shimmered.

“He’s special,” Katie said calmly. “So’s his sister, Antonia. So is Jonah, and many others in the community.”

Tears swam into Lana’s eyes as she lowered her cheek to Duncan’s head. “Sorry. Hormones—that’s what Ray, our nurse, tells me.”

“Katie, why don’t you write down Lana’s information. A professional chef?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, and believe me, I know a lot more about fileting a Chilean sea bass than pregnancy, childbirth, or being a mother.”

“A lot of parents start off that way. I’m a terrible cook. We can barter the OB-GYN services for cooking lessons. And besides being a chef?”

“Witch.”

“And you’re with Max?” Katie, behind her table, wrote out her information in such an easy, practical way, Lana smiled.

“Yes. He’s the father, and my husband. Max Fallon. He’s thirty-one. I can tell you without exaggeration, he can do whatever has to be done. He’s kept all this together, all these people. He’s a writer, but—”

“Max Fallon.” Katie looked up. “It didn’t click. My husband loved his books. I know we have some in our library.”