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“Stella, please.” The woman—Stella—smiles at Thea, but it’s more icy than pleasant. “We’re adults now. No need for you to call me that anymore.”
“Okay.” Thea’s hand is trembling. “How are you? I didn’t know you had moved back—”
“I haven’t.” Her tone is clipped. “I’m still in Virginia. I’ll only be here for a short time. But I must say, I’m surprised to see you living here.”
“She’s the librarian.” Laila eyes Stella suspiciously, clearly picking up the same weird vibes from this woman as I am. “In the kids’ section.”
Stella sweeps her gaze across the three of us, finally landing on Thea. After a pause, she says, “Lovely. That’s so nice. I’m glad everything is working out for you.”
There’s something else behind her words, an undercurrent of something unpleasant. But Thea just gives her a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“Anyway, I’m glad I’m seeing you. I was going to call, but this saves time. It’s the fifteenth anniversary—well, a bit past, but I couldn’t bring myself to travel on the actual date. I’m sure you understand.”
Holding Thea’s hand isn’t enough. Not with this woman clearly upsetting her. So I rest my hand on her waist, pulling her into my side. Plastering on a fake smile, I meet Stella’s icy gaze. “Hi. I’m Ben Lewis.”
Her mouth pinches. “Ben. Nice to meet you.” Dismissing me, she looks back at Thea. “I’m going to be erecting a memorial at the school. And establishing a new scholarship. I think it would be nice if you were involved.”
Thea’s voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it. “I don’t know, Mrs. Rich—Stella. It might not—”
“Liam would want you there.” Stella lifts her chin. “I’ll call you about the plans.”
Then she sweeps away, her heels clattering down the sidewalk.
I watch the strange woman for a few seconds before turning to Thea. All the color has drained from her face.
Laila tugs at my hand. “Can we go now, Dad? I’m hungry.”
“One second, sweetie.” Cupping Thea’s cheek, I ask her quietly, “Are you alright?”
She blinks. “Yes. I’m fine. She’s—” Stopping, she swallows hard. “Can we talk about it later? After?” She tilts her head at Laila.
“Of course.” I kiss her cheek, chilled in the warm August air. “Whenever you’re ready.”
It’s after eight o’clock by the time we finally settle down on the couch, and the shadows under Thea’s eyes are darker than ever.
She snuggles into my side, laying her head on my shoulder. Wrapping my arm around her slender frame, I rub my hand up and down her arm. I press a kiss to her head before saying, “You didn’t have to spend that long reading to Laila, sweetheart. I know you’ve had a long day.”
Laila begged Thea to read with her before bed, dismissing me with a casual, “Miss Thea does the voices better.”
That may be true, but Thea also spends her days surrounded by children and reading stories, and I don’t want her to feel obligated to do it every time she’s over. Especially when she’s clearly exhausted.
“It’s okay, Ben. I didn’t mind.” She shifts a little, tucking herself into me further, her soft curls brushing against my neck. “Reading is my favorite thing. And I love seeing how much Laila enjoys it. She kind of reminds me of myself, when I was that age.”
I imagine a small Thea, her hair curling around her face, books piled high on her nightstand, pleading for just one more story.
“Did your parents read to you?”
“Oh, yes.” Her voice goes soft at the memories. “My mom read to me every night. And my dad built me these big bookcases in my room… I used to look forward to bedtime, so I could hear more of my favorite stories. We went through the entire Chronicles of Narnia series, reading one chapter each night. It took almost a year to get through all of them.”
I know Thea’s mom passed away over a decade ago, an unexpected aneurysm when Thea was still in college. She doesn’t talk about her parents much, but whenever she does, it’s always positive. “So that’s where you got your love of reading.”
“Yeah. She was a teacher, did you know that? Right here, in Sleepy Hollow. She taught here until…” After a deep sigh, she continues. “When she died, I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t seen her in months, and then my dad called me, crying…”
“Ah, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” I take her hand, lacing her slender fingers between mine. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I feel guilty.” Another soft sigh. “After high school, I tried not to come back unless I absolutely had to. Just for holidays; vacations I stayed on campus and worked. And I was far enough away that I couldn’t go home for weekends. The last time I saw her was Christmas, and then…”
The pain in Thea’s voice makes my chest ache. “I’m sure your mom understood.”
