Daddy's Angel

Praise for ANNETTE BROADRICK

“Whether she’s writing romantic suspense or pure romance, Annette Broadrick always tells a great story! I love her tough but tender heroes!”

—Bestselling author Ann Major

“I love Annette Broadrick’s books! They make me laugh and cry and then laugh again as she takes me on a whirlwind ride toward a wonderfully happy ending.”

—Award-winning author Paula Detmer Riggs

ANNETTE BROADRICK

believes in romance and the magic of life. Since 1984, Annette has shared her view of life and love with readers. In addition to being nominated by Romantic Times magazine as one of the Best New Authors of that year, she has also won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best in its Series, the Romantic Times WISH award, and the Romantic Times magazine Lifetime Achievement Awards for Series Romance and Series Romantic Fantasy.

Daddy’s Angel
Annette Broadrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to all those very special angels who devote their valuable time to the loving, nurturing and caring of a husband and/or children 365 days a year.

You know who you are. So does God.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Prologue

Noelle waited patiently.

Noelle St. Nichols had all the patience in the world. Of course, technically speaking, she wasn’t part of the world.

Not exactly.

For several seasons now, she’d been a Christmas angel, the kind who presides at the very top of the Christmas tree each season.

Before accepting her present occupation, she’d enjoyed a multitude of varied assignments…all part of the training for novice angels. Not that people on earth understand the extensive training each and every angel willingly pursues. Many people have absolutely no conception that angels exist.

Of course most people have heard about them, particularly at Christmastime. Whenever the Christmas story is told, the listener hears about the time when the angels appeared to the shepherds, announcing the birth of the baby Jesus.

Because of the special sense of love and understanding that seems to fill the air around Christmastime, some people—if asked—might admit that quite possibly there really was a time when there were angels who actually talked to shepherds. If pressed, they might admit to believing that even in this day and age there are angels who protect small children.

Few people, however, want to admit that they could have a guardian angel, although they might joke about the possibility.

Noelle had never been able to understand how people could speak about guardian angels as though they were a joke. How could such an honorable profession be considered amusing?

At one point in her training, her highest aspiration had been to become a guardian angel. She had diligently studied for her proposed calling and had been given several assignments that had resulted in less than spectacular results. She’d discovered that attempting to guide and protect a person who was determined to ignore that quiet voice within could be difficult—not to mention downright frustrating!

Noelle sighed and thought back over her long and varied career, which had been filled with unexpected twists and turns.

One of her less admirable traits was her impulsiveness.

She wouldn’t be where she was today if she hadn’t impulsively offered to fill in for a friend on this particular assignment.

How could she have known at the time the far-reaching effects her present occupation would have on her own goals and aspirations? Even if she could have foreseen the consequences, she wasn’t certain she could have resisted the opportunity to be with children.

Children were her very special love. What better way for her to be around them than to become part of their annual celebration of Christmas?

Small children still had memories of the time when they lived with the angels. They recognized her immediately. Consequently she had no difficulty communicating with them.

She’d been filled with excitement by the thought that she might be placed in a child’s home and be given the opportunity to offer one or more children a refresher course on love and all its many aspects—such as compassion…and caring…understanding…and sharing…empathy…and acceptance.

As far as she was concerned, one of her most sacred duties was to remind children of the larger significance of Christmas, that it was a magical time when love could produce miracles.

Children came into the world filled with a wondrous knowledge of all things. Unfortunately many of them forgot about the wonder and the magic of Christmas as they grew older, which was why Noelle St. Nichols chose to come to earth as a reminder. So she became a Christmas tree angel.

And fell head over heels in love.

She sighed, thinking of the series of events that had taken place for her since she had become a Christmas tree angel. So much had happened, both joyous and sad.

Bret Bishop had had an extraordinary effect on her. He had stolen her heart as surely as a train robber successfully empties a safe.

She winced at her unfortunate choice of metaphor. The train robber had been one of her earlier assignments as a guardian angel. He hadn’t been one of her successes.

Her record carried as many failures as it did triumphs, although her supervisor continued to remind her that there was no such thing as a failure in their dimension…only lessons to be learned.

Falling in love certainly hadn’t been part of her particular curriculum, but it had happened, even though Bret Bishop was unaware of her existence.

While she waited for her annual liberation from the attic, Noelle reminisced, reliving that time in her history when she had believed she would be filling in as a Christmas tree angel for only a few weeks.

She wore a shimmery white gown with a long full skirt that stood stiffly in a full circle around her. Her white-blond hair fell in waves to her waist and framed her face. A twinkling halo of brilliants encircled her head and in her left hand she carried a tiny, star-tipped wand.

For several days she’d entertained herself by sending waves of loving energy to the children who walked through the aisles of the department store where she was displayed. Rarely did she notice the adults until the day she heard someone say, “Bret, would you look at this?”

A young woman with short black curls framing her face paused in front of the tree ornament section where Noelle was prominently displayed. The man beside her obligingly glanced at Noelle.

Noelle looked back…and was a goner.

The first thing she noticed about Bret Bishop was his happiness. He glowed with it, especially whenever he looked at the woman beside him.

He was young, Noelle noted. A very fine specimen of manhood—his body perfectly proportioned, his face filled with integrity.

Noelle was certain she knew him…or had known him from some other dimension in space and time. Her reaction was much too strong not to have been forged in an earlier reality.

“She’s something, isn’t she, Patti?” he responded. His deep voice caused shivers along Noelle’s spine.

“Wouldn’t she be beautiful on top of our tree?”

Bret smiled, his teasing filled with love. “Honey, I don’t know quite how to tell you this,” he drawled, “but that angel, small as she is, would dwarf our puny li’l ol’ tree.”

“Then let’s get a bigger tree,” Patti promptly suggested.

“You’re the one who said a miniature fir tree was all the two of us needed this year.”

Patti looked up at him with an impish grin. “I know. I was thinking about this being our first Christmas.” She touched his arm, her gaze imploring. “Darling, someday we’ll have a family. Can’t you just picture that little angel sitting on top of a tree, with all our children gathered around?”

He slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer to his side, placing a light kiss on her nose.

“A-a-l-ll our children?” he repeated, chuckling. “Sounds like you’re planning to have dozens.”

She tucked her fingers into the side belt loops of his snug-fitting jeans and peered up at him through her thick lashes. “I have a hunch that we have so much love to share we’re going to want a houseful of babies, honey.”

Bret’s response to her throaty, deliberately provocative comment was laughter—rich, exuberant and filled with joy.

How could Noelle have resisted falling in love?

All right, so this couple didn’t have children. So what? They were young, probably newlyweds and they understood what love and life and Christmas were truly about. Noelle hoped they would buy her, regardless of the size of their present tree. She wanted to be a part of their lives, to oversee a family that would grow and become an integral part of her present existence.

She also hoped to find a niche in the life of Bret Bishop. She would be content to see him each year, content to be a tiny part of his world.

Noelle got her wish. Bret and Patti took her home that very day, to a two-room apartment near the campus where he was attending his last year of college.

During that first Christmas season with Bret and Patti, Noelle learned of their hopes and dreams as they sat in front of the lighted tree each night and discussed plans for their future.

She discovered that Bret had been born on a ranch in central Texas. Patti had grown up nearby. They had been friends all their lives. Neither one had ever considered living anywhere other than in the familiar hills of central Texas.

When Bret’s grandfather died when Bret was eighteen, he left his ranching property to his grandson. However, Bret’s father had insisted that Bret get his education—learn the latest about agriculture and livestock breeding—before taking over the actual running of the place. Bret had married Patti the summer before his senior year knowing that as soon as he graduated, they would move to the ranch and live there full-time.

Patti had finished a two-year course of her own and had found a job in the college town until her husband finished with his schooling. Their apartment was like a dollhouse. Life for them their first year seemed almost like playing and not at all like being married. The small apartment often rang with their laughter.

Noelle blessed their first Christmas together and patiently waited throughout the next year, and all the years that followed, to spend those few very special weeks with her newly expanding family.

First came Chris, a stocky little boy with his mother’s gray eyes and his father’s flashing smile.

Two years later Brenda appeared, full of bounce and seemingly unlimited energy. She had her father’s light brown hair and golden eyes.

Eventually Sally arrived—tiny, but with a strong will and healthy lungs.

Noelle introduced herself to each one of the children and explained to them who she was and why she was a part of their household. As the years passed, each child came to her to share secret wishes and cherished dreams. She watched as each one grew older until first Chris, then eventually Brenda and Sally forgot how to speak with her…and how to listen for her voice.

Noelle would never forget the year when Bret and Patti were decorating the newest Christmas tree and Patti told Bret that, once again, she was pregnant.…

Bret stared at Patti in dismay. “Pregnant? But you can’t be! Didn’t the doctor say—”

Patti went up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What do you mean, I can’t be?” she whispered with a smile. “Is your memory already slipping, cowboy? Do I have to go into detail exactly when and how this happened?” She kissed him in her very special way.

She managed to distract him, as usual, but only for a few moments. When he pulled away from her, he was frowning. “How can you joke about it, honey? How could you forget about the rough time you had when you carried Sally? The doctor told us then that—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “I know what the doctor said, Bret. But lots of things have changed. Sally is almost five, so my body’s had plenty of time to rest and recuperate. Besides, there’s been all kinds of medical advances since my last pregnancy. I’m not worried and I don’t want you to be, either.” She danced away from him, threw her arms wide and turned in a circle. “I’m so excited. Just think! We’re going to have another Bishop to love. Sally will start preschool in the spring. By fall she’ll be ready for the first grade. The house will be so empty.”

She paused and looked around the room with all its boxes of decorations. “Just think, Bret. This time next year we’ll have a baby in our home once again, one who’ll be dazzled by all the lights and color.” She returned to Bret’s side and brushed her fingers against his cheek. “Please be happy, honey. I know it’s a bit of a shock, but I didn’t want to say anything to you until I found out for sure. I wanted my news to be a special Christmas surprise for everybody.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and tears filled her eyes. “I can’t think of anything I want more than to have another one of your children to love.”

He took her hand and gently placed a kiss in her palm. “Honey, if this is what you want, then I’m happy, too.” He gathered her in his arms as though she were made of the most fragile porcelain. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

“How could I not be happy? I have everything I could possibly want in my life—you and the children. I feel truly blessed.”

He shook his head, humbled by her courage and her determination. “I love you, Patti Bishop,” he murmured, holding her close.

“I love you, too, Bret. More than I can possibly say.”

Unfortunately their love for each other wasn’t enough to keep Patti alive.

She was careful.

She followed the doctor’s instructions.

She did everything she was supposed to do.

But her heart gave out without warning during the delivery of her second son. The skilled medical staff was unable to resuscitate her.

Noelle knew the events of that year despite the fact that she was packed carefully away with all the other decorations.

She felt Bret’s pain at the loss of his beloved wife.

She felt his bewilderment when faced with the prospect of trying to raise four children on his own.

She felt his anger that God could have allowed such a thing to happen.

The newborn was a healthy little boy with his mother’s black curls and gray eyes. Bret gave him the name Patti had picked for a boy—Travis.

Travis was four months old his first Christmas. If the older children hadn’t insisted, Bret wouldn’t have put up a tree that year. He found the season too painful a reminder of other years when Patti had been by his side.

The children missed their mother with a heartbroken intensity. Having the new baby to care for kept them going. Travis became their focal point. Taking care of him helped to heal their pain and ease their loss.

Three more years had passed and it was Christmastime once again, the fourth Christmas the Bishop family had spent without Patti. Noelle wanted to weep at the harsh changes that had taken place in Bret.

The laughing young man she’d first caught sight of all those years ago was gone, never to be seen again. In his place was a grim-faced rancher with overwhelming duties and responsibilities.

Bret had adjusted to his new way of life in some ways. He’d grown accustomed to being on his own with the children. He made certain he was there whenever they needed him. He planned his work schedule around their school schedules. He watched over them and supervised them.

What saddened Noelle the most was that over the years Bret had lost more than his mate.…

Bret had lost his belief in the goodness of life.

Bret had abandoned all his hopes and dreams.

Noelle knew that yet another upheaval was soon to cause additional problems for the Bishop family. Unfortunately, as a mere Christmas tree angel she didn’t have the jurisdiction to change certain events that had already been set into motion. She understood that every seemingly random event had a positive reason and result behind it. However, she knew that Bret wouldn’t see the event in that light. He would see another burden placed on his shoulders.

She was afraid for him…afraid he would falter under his grim load of responsibilities because he’d lost sight of the very things that could lighten the burdens for him.

Somehow, someway, she wanted to be able to help him—to ease his load, to help him regain some of his beliefs about life, to help him to understand how things have a way of working out if we only give them a chance.

If we only believe.

Noelle contacted her supervisor to discuss the present situation in the Bishop household. She had a request to make—a very special request—one that was most unusual but because of the upcoming emergency, most necessary.

She knew the risks. As an angel she had never taken human form, never experienced human emotions, never been plagued by earthly considerations. She knew there would be limitations placed on her. She knew that, if she was given permission to take a more active role in the Bishop family, she would have to return to her original form no later than midnight on Christmas Eve.

She didn’t know if that would give her enough time to help Bret. She only knew that she had to make the effort before he gave up on life completely.

She had to try.

Chapter One

Dark clouds rolled along the northern horizon, adding an urgency to Bret’s movements. He gave the barbed wire an extra twist of his wrist, then wearily straightened and looked along the fence he’d recently mended.

No doubt a deer had pulled the top strand loose while bounding across the fence, causing the line to sag. He’d been checking all the fence lines of his ranch for the past several days. Some of the terrain was too rugged for him to use his pickup truck, his usual mode of conveyance. For the last two days he’d ridden Hercules.

Perhaps traveling around the ranch on horseback had prompted the recurrence of his memories of Patti. After all, Patti had given Hercules to him. She’d always enjoyed riding with him whenever she could get away for a few hours.

No doubt his saddling up Hercules and riding him yesterday had triggered the dreams he’d had last night.

He’d dreamed that Patti was alive. She’d been there next to him, holding him, talking to him, loving him.

His dream had seemed so real.

In it he told her that he thought she’d died. They laughed about such a silly idea. She’d held him in her arms and told him that she would never leave him. Not ever.

In the first seconds of awakening that morning he’d reached for her with joy in his heart, glad to be through with the nightmare of doing without her, only to find the other side of the bed empty.

He’d opened his eyes and realized the truth.

Patti was gone. She’d been gone for more than three years now.

No doubt his vivid dream the night before had caused the ache of missing her to be so strong today. He’d been feeling her loss all day in the same way he’d felt during those first black months when he hadn’t believed he could go on without her.

A soft whine and the familiar weight leaning against his knee called Bret back to the present. He glanced down and rubbed his hand over Rex’s head, glad for the German shepherd’s company.

Even though the dog was getting up in years, he continued to follow Bret around the ranch, generally riding in the truck cab when it was raining or cold.

“Yeah, I know, old man,” he murmured. “The wind’s picking up and we’ve got a ways to go before we’re home, with no truck heater to take the chill off.”

Bret glanced around, seeing the gusts of wind create eddies of silt around them. He readjusted his broad-brimmed hat, pulling it low over his eyes, and headed over to where the horse waited.

The creak of the leather made a familiar sound as he mounted the horse and gathered the reins in his gloved hand. He glanced to the north, narrowing his eyes as he measured the swiftness of the clouds racing toward him.

Those clouds looked ominous, threatening cold wind and icy rain. He didn’t want to get caught in the hills when the rain hit. The footing among the rocks and cacti was dangerous enough in the best of conditions. Hopefully they would make it to the ranch road before the threatened downpour reached them.

Bret started down through the heavy underbrush of the rock-strewn hillside. Rex followed close behind.

Now that he was headed home, Bret’s thoughts raced on ahead to his family, his expression growing more grim.

Chris had reminded him over breakfast this morning that they needed to get a tree before the yearly shipment of firs were all picked over. Chris, especially, insisted on keeping all the family traditions Patti had started. Even to the point of dragging out the same decorations year after year.

Thinking about the decorations reminded Bret of the year he’d suggested to Patti that they should replace the bedraggled-looking Christmas tree angel they’d found the first Christmas they were married.

The tiny figure had lost the tip of one of her wings, her dress hung limp and the glitter had long since disappeared from her halo. Patti had been shocked and incensed that he would suggest such a thing. The angel was part of the Bishop Christmas tradition.

Now the children were just as bad about adhering to tradition. Christmas season didn’t officially begin in the Bishop household until the tree was up, decorated and Bret had placed the angel with great ceremony at the top.

If Chris had his way, Bret would be up on the stepladder tonight, clutching the tiny ornament in his hand.

Bret had tried to explain that he didn’t have time to go to town today, that he had too many other things to do. That’s when Chris had asked if he could get Roy to take him to get the tree.

Bret didn’t know what he would have done during the past three years without Roy Baker. The ranch hand originally had been a part of the crew that worked for Bret’s father ever since Bret had been a teenager. When Patti died, Roy—with no commotion—had moved to Bret’s ranch and taken over the daily chores around the place. He knew as much about ranching as anybody in the district, but had never wanted the responsibility of his own place.

Roy was exactly the kind of friend Bret had needed during that black time after Patti’s death, when Bret hadn’t been certain he could survive without Patti by his side.

Roy had filled in wherever he was needed. A shy man only a few years older than Bret, Roy understood what needed to be done to keep the ranch in working order without Bret having to mention it.

Bret had been grateful for the help. They had never discussed whether the move would be temporary or permanent, but during the past three years Roy had settled into the small house that was part of the ranch buildings and become an integral part of the Bishop family circle.

Bringing a brand-new motherless child home from the hospital had been a painful and traumatic time for all of them. Bret hated to think what they would have done if fate, in the form of another lifelong friend, hadn’t come to his rescue.

Freda Wilkenson had spent her early youth caring for her invalid mother and had never had time to develop a social life of her own. A few years older than Bret, Freda, timid and soft-spoken, approached him with a suggestion a few days after he’d brought Travis home.

Her mother had recently passed away and Freda felt lost with nothing to do to fill her empty days. She offered to move out to the ranch as housekeeper and to look after the children.

Accepting her offer of help had saved his sanity.

Bret knew that he couldn’t have gotten through these past three years without the help of Roy and Freda. They had been there for him, encouraging him to establish some kind of life for his children during those days when all he’d wanted to do was to saddle up and keep on riding until he fell off the edge of the world.

Eventually he’d learned a very important lesson—a person couldn’t feel sorry for himself for long when he had four children who needed his attention and care.

He still saw Patti in the silvery-gray flash of Chris’s eyes…and caught a glimpse of her sparkling mischievousness in Brenda and Sally. But it was Travis who repeatedly pulled at his heartstrings. As though to make up for her loss, Patti had somehow passed on to her youngest son not only her black curls and features, but her gentle and loving personality as well.

Travis didn’t talk much. With three older siblings, he didn’t have to, since all of them had a habit of anticipating his every want and need. Despite the attention, he wasn’t spoiled. He was just a happy little boy who offered his unconditional love to everyone around him.

Travis had listened to the girls over breakfast that morning as they asked when they were going to go shopping. He had stopped them all by asking if he was going to get to see Santa at the mall again this year. No one had thought Travis could have remembered his visit last Christmas, but obviously he had.

In an effort to gain some time, Bret had agreed to let Chris ask Roy to take him to town today to buy a tree, but only if Roy didn’t have something else he needed to do.

Bret knew he was being a coward. He knew he should have agreed to take Chris into town, himself. It was just that Christmas never seemed to get any easier for him. He wished he could disappear until all the fuss of the season was behind him for another year.

He hated having to go into town for supplies between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Shiny tinsel streamers and giant red bells arched across the main streets of the small ranching community where they did most of their shopping. Every store he entered had its own display, generally accompanied by Christmas music.

There was just no getting away from the music. Even the country music station he listened to in the truck interspersed the current hits being played with familiar voices singing traditional songs.

A person couldn’t get away from the reminders, no matter how much he tried.

A strong gust of wind grabbing at his hat brought Bret jarringly back to the present. He reached up and once more tugged the brim down low over his eyes.

Looking around, he noticed that while he’d been lost in thought, they’d managed to reach the dirt road that led back to the ranch buildings. Bret signaled the horse by subtly shifting his weight. Hercules immediately responded with ground-eating strides and Rex loped along beside them.

They reached the ranch buildings minutes before the storm hit. Safely inside the barn, Bret watched from the wide doorway as large hail bounced off the ground and the surrounding buildings. He breathed a thankful prayer that he’d gotten home when he did.

He took his time unsaddling Hercules and cooling him down before he wiped the horse dry and fed him. Although he could always explain to Freda and the kids that he’d been waiting for the first of the front to pass by, he knew the truth.

He dreaded going inside. If Roy hadn’t taken Chris to town when he got home from school, then Bret knew he’d have to do so as soon as they ate.

If Roy had taken Chris to town, then Bret would have to help decorate the tree tonight. He knew he was putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later he would have to go into the house and face whatever festivities the family had planned for the evening.

By the time Bret sprinted across the wide expanse between the barn and house the hail had been replaced by pounding, icy rain splashing mud and turning the ground into a slippery quagmire.

He took the back-porch steps two at a time, then paused beneath the shelter of the roof to wipe off the bottoms of his boots before entering Freda’s spotless kitchen. He removed his gloves and opened the door, already anticipating a cup of Freda’s coffee to help remove the chill.

The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the dark kitchen. The kitchen was the heart of their home, and its light generally came on first thing in the morning and stayed on until the last thing at night.

Today it was dark and deserted.

Bret absently brushed his hat off his head and hung it and his coat on a set of hooks beside the back door, next to the children’s jackets. He noted that Chris’s coat wasn’t there, which probably meant that Chris and Roy hadn’t returned from town, but didn’t explain why Freda wasn’t in the kitchen preparing supper.

“Hello?” he called. “Anybody home?”

Bret heard scrambling upstairs and the clattering of feet on the wooden stairs. At least somebody was here.

Eleven-year-old Brenda was the first to appear. Her golden eyes were wide with concern. Bret had a sudden sense of unease flash over him, which was confirmed with her first words.

“Dad! Thank goodness you’re home! You’ll never guess what happened this afternoon!”

Since his daughter was known for speaking in exclamations whenever she was excited, Bret tried not to let her delivery cause him to jump to premature conclusions before hearing some details. Obviously something had happened out of their normal routine.

Eight-year-old Sally arrived immediately behind her sister, looking worried. However, Bret felt a strong sense of unease when three-year-old Travis came in clutching his familiar stuffed giraffe by its long neck, his eyes red from crying and his face pale. Bret knelt down on one knee and Travis ran into his arms, burying his face in Bret’s neck.