Free Legacy of Love by Donna Hill

around. How could someone be so irresponsible? The museum was too crowded not to be paying attention to a child.
    â€œWhat’s your uncle’s name, sweetheart?”
    â€œUncle Jack.”
    Zoe bit back a smile. “We’ll find Uncle Jack in no time. Okay?” She took Shay’s hand. “Let’s go to the security desk.”
    Shay dug in her heels and pulled away. “My mommy said not to go with strangers.” She started crying again.
    â€œBut I’m not…you’re right. And your mommy is right. Um…” She looked around, raised up on tip-toe to see if she could spot one of the security guards. Now she wished she hadn’t listened to Sharlene when she said that the walkie-talkie clashed with her black-beaded cocktail dress. She looked great, but she couldn’t communicate with the staff and her purse was locked in her desk along with her cell phone. “Frank!” she called out, turning several heads in her direction. “Frank.” She waved her hand above her head. Finally he saw her and wound his way over.
    Frank Monroe was her chief of security. “Hey, Ms. Beaumont. What can I do for you?”
    â€œThis young lady is lost. Could you get on the intercom and let Uncle Jack know that we foundhis niece…” She bent down to Shay. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
    â€œMy mommy said not to tell strangers my name.” She blinked rapidly.
    Zoe and Frank shared a look.
    â€œDo you know your uncle Jack’s last name?”
    She slowly shook her head no.
    Zoe pushed out a breath. “Okay, Frank. Get on the intercom and ask for ‘Uncle Jack.’ We have his niece in front of the American Arts wing.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    Â 
    All Jackson could imagine was the worst. He tore in and out and around the thousands of people who had filled the museum. It was a split second and she was gone. The museum was humongous in size with several floors and adjacent building. Oh, my God. He had to find someone in charge.
    â€œMay I have your attention?” A smooth modulated voice came through the intercom system. “Would Uncle Jack please come to the entrance to the American Arts wing on the second floor.”
    Jackson stopped in his tracks.
    â€œUncle Jack,” he repeated, “Please come to the second floor. The American Arts wing.”
    â€œThank God.” He darted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, barely avoiding knocking people over. He reached the landing and looked around frantically for the American Arts wing. He saw the signage and jogged down the corridor whensuddenly he felt as if someone had slammed him in the chest. The air lodged in his lungs.
    It was her.
    Zoe felt him before she saw him, like a hand stroking her bare flesh. Her pulse quickened and heat infused her veins. She turned and there he was. Their gazes connected like lightning hitting a tree and the entire room brightened.
    The crowd, of its own volition, seemed to part leaving them an open path toward each other.
    Jackson moved, dreamlike toward her, as everything around them receded. All he could see was her.
    â€œHello, again,” he said, a melodiousness lacing his voice. He wanted to touch her to convince himself that she was real.
    â€œHello.” She looked up into his eyes that were darker than eternity and lost herself there.
    â€œUncle Jack!” Shay buried her face against his thigh. “Please don’t tell mommy.”
    Jackson shook himself out of the trance that he was in and scooped Shay up into his arms, kissing her cheeks in relief. He held her close but couldn’t take his eyes off of Zoe. He wouldn’t dare. “Thank you.”
    â€œOf course,” she said a bit breathless.
    â€œJackson. Jackson Treme.”
    â€œZoe Beaumont.”
    For a moment all they could do was stare at each other. No words could convey the tumultuousthoughts that swirled through their heads. The