Phil’s research of possible destinations included staff members’ biographies as well as complete histories of the locations themselves. On this island, the main house was built in the late 1970’s by a wealthy Englishman who arrived with his staff of two. Francis and Madeline were married in Haiti prior to traveling to this destination. When the Englishman died, they stayed, and over the past thirty plus years, they’ve maintained the estate and cared for multiple families. Claire’s new house had many bedrooms and would have more than enough room for her and her child. Apparently, some of the previous owners had multiple children and grandchildren.

The isolation of this retreat was one of its most appealing aspects. There was a time when Claire didn’t like being alone; however, she was tired of unknown threats. This retreat would provide her child with the security that only comes from seclusion. For her child, Claire was more than willing to accept the loneliness that came with an island that was only accessible by boat or plane. Civilization—or something close—could be reached by a thirty minute boat ride; weather provided. This region boasted 363 days of sunshine a year; however, the lush vegetation required rain. Though usually short in duration, Phil’s research reported storms which could be intense. Deluges of rain followed by powerful sun created the perfect combination for a sultry, humid climate. After nearly a month in cloudy, cool Italy, Claire was ready for the warmth.

As they stepped toward the warm smiles of the caretakers, Madeline, a large woman with dark skin and a deep, rich voice, was the first to speak, “Welcome Madame el and Monsieur Nichols! I am Madeline and this is my husband, Francis.”

Claire looked at Phil and grinned. She liked the sound of Madeline’s voice; it added to the warmth in the air. Offering her hand in greeting, Claire said, “Hello, thank you. I’m Ms. Nichols, but please call me Claire, and this”—she looked to Phil. How could she possibly explain who he was? His definition had changed so drastically over the last year—“This is my friend, Phillip Roach. He helped me find your wonderful island.”

Francis shook Phil’s hand. “Madame el, but this is your island, and we are so very happy to help you with anything you need.”

Placing her hand over her midsection, Claire sighed. “I’d love to see the house.”

Madeline nodded and led Claire toward a path. Her smile shone brightly as she said, “Why of course, let me show you your home, and I’ll get you something to drink. We cannot let you dehydrate. The sun here, it is very strong; even now, before noon.” After a few steps, Madeline asked, “Your baby, Madame el, when is she due to join us?”

She? Claire didn’t know the sex of her child, but she’d always referred to it as he—the dark-haired, dark-eyed little boy who would look like his father; however, the little boy in her dreams would never know the sadness his father did. Her little boy would grow up with love and support; then, one day, he’d become the man his father finally became. “Oh, I don’t know if I’m having a girl or boy.” Madeline didn’t speak, but her deep brown eyes sparkled knowingly. Claire continued, “And my little one is due the middle of January; a New Year’s baby.”

“We love babies. Francis and I—we were never blessed with children of our own; however, we’ve shared our hearts with babies who now live all over the world. Thank you for bringing us another baby to love.”

Although Claire hesitated to trust anyone ever again, she instinctively liked this woman. It wasn’t just what Madeline said, but it was her whole aura that pulled Claire near and filled her with promise. When they passed the threshold to her new home, Claire exhaled. For the first time in ages—she was home. Her home was beautiful, light, and open—everything she’d always desired. Claire walked to the open doors, inhaled the sea breeze, and listened to the sound of the surf. Madeline’s voice refocused Claire’s thoughts. “We like to have everything open; there’s usually a refreshing breeze, but if it’s too hot for you Madame el, we do have air conditioning.”

Although the perspiration dripped between Claire’s breasts, and she needed to lift her hair off her neck, she grinned. “It’ll take me a while to get used to it, but I will”—Adapting was one of her specialties—“Please don’t use the air conditioning. I love the fresh air and the heat.”

Her heels clicked on the shiny bamboo flooring as they entered the master bedroom suite. “This is your”—Madeline hesitated—“and Monsieur Roach’s room?”