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By the time they left the grocery store, A.J. rubbed at his eyes, ready for a nap.
“Soon, little man,” she said, strapping him into his car seat.
As she loaded groceries into the car, a voice called her name. “Brooke, hello. I was just about to call you.”
The pastor’s wife came toward her, pumps tapping as she hurried her pace. Dressed in a classic beige pantsuit with her short dark hair neatly coiffed around a serene face, Laura West was the poster child of ministers’ wives—warm, gracious and genteel.
A frisson of alarm rushed up Brooke’s arms. “Mrs. West, is everything all right?”
Macy popped out of the backseat, eyes wide. “Is my mama—?”
“Your mama is doing great,” Mrs. West reassured. Then to Brooke she said, “Reverend West asked me to track you down if I could. He told me about your phone call and agrees one hundred percent. He can visit with Macy this afternoon.”
Brooke’s anxiety drained away. Confident Reverend West would handle the situation better than she could, Brooke had requested counseling for Macy. Given the trauma she was enduring from Darlene’s illness and the terrible uncertainty, the child needed all the wisdom they could provide.
“That’s terrific.”
“But first—” Mrs. West tapped Macy’s nose with one finger “—you and I are going shopping for those shoes you need. Something about a pair of sneakers with hot pink laces?”
“How did you know?” Macy asked and then immediately said, “Mama told you.”
“Yes, she did.”
“I can take her, Mrs. West.”
“Of course you could, Brooke, but I can’t let you have all the fun with Macy, can I?”
The pastor’s wife warmed Brooke’s heart. There were some fine people in this town. Funny how she’d forgotten that. “A.J. is long overdue for a nap, so I suppose this is great timing.”
“The Lord knows what we have need of,” the woman said. “Ready, Macy?”
Macy’s face glowed from the special attention as she and Mrs. West headed down the street.
When Brooke arrived home and began unloading groceries and picnic items, she settled A.J. on a pile of pillows in front of his Mozart video hoping he’d fall asleep on his own. He seemed to love the soothing music and gentle visuals of puppets and toys.
When Brooke bent to kiss his cheek, he hugged her neck. “I love you, A.J.”
“Lub you, Mama.”
Brooke froze, emotion washing through her, warm and wonderful and disconcerting. A.J. had no idea what he’d just done. He’d heard the word from Macy a dozen times today. Nonetheless, Brooke pressed the word against her heart and let imagination take flight.
What if Gabe loved her? What if she could be his wife and A.J.’s mother? She’d gladly give up her share of the inheritance and anything else she owned to be loved by this special father and son.
Rosy with the good feelings, she left A.J. cuddling his fluffy yellow duck while she put away the groceries and unpacked the picnic basket.
When a knock sounded at the front door, she shoved the milk in the refrigerator and cast a quick glance into the den. Satisfied that A.J. was content, she hurried through the house to answer the knock.
Humming, happy, thinking of Gabe’s kiss and A.J.’s sweet love, she clicked the lock and pulled open the door.
No one was there.
A buzz of adrenaline, like an electric shock, stung her nerve endings. Cautiously, she looked through the glass and onto the porch. No one. All was quiet in the neighborhood.
The wind chime swayed. But the leaves on the trees were still.
A chill rushed down Brooke’s spine. She stepped out on the porch to look around. “Hello? Anyone there?”
Going quickly to the end of the porch she looked down the side of the house. A new white spot, compliments of Gabe, was all that remained of the frightening episode of red spray paint and a hooded visitor no one had ever identified.
Goosebumps prickled her arms. She had the creepiest feeling someone was watching.
Unnerved by the thought, she hurried back inside and shut and locked the door. Mozart drifted through the rooms and into her consciousness. A terrible, sick foreboding came with it.
