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Seconds later, theclick-clickof Trout’s nails on the hardwood floor sounded. He came barreling out of the kitchen straight toward her with Misty’s seven-year-old son, Harris Quinn, in tow. Josie knelt down, prepared to catch one or both of them so they didn’t knock her over.
“JoJo!” Harris hollered, jumping into her open arms. She hugged him tightly and then released him to give Trout back scratches. Once he was sufficiently petted, Josie got up and the three of them went to the kitchen.
Misty stood by the stove, using a masher to pulverize potatoes in a large bowl that Josie hadn’t even realized they owned. She was more at home in their kitchen than Josie and Noah. In fact, they welcomed her visits because it meant they’d get a good meal. Plus, they’d get to spend time with two of their favorite people. It hadn’t always been that way. Years ago, after Josie and her first husband, Ray, separated, he’d started seeing Misty. Josie had been overcome with jealousy. She’d hated Misty, but after Ray died, Misty gave birth to Ray’s son and Josie had fallen instantly in love with him. It had taken a marathon of baby steps for the two women to bridge the gap that Josie’s resentment had built, but they’d done it. Now, Josie couldn’t imagine her life without Misty or Harris.
“Oh hey,” Trinity said. She and Drake were at the table, already stuffing their faces with an appetizer Misty had whipped up. Spinach puff pastries, by the look of them. Josie wondered if she’d added cream cheese this time. She leaned over and snagged a piece from Trinity’s plate. Harris tugged at Josie’s free hand. “JoJo, Mom has something really important to talk to you about.”
Josie sat down and Harris climbed onto her lap. Imitating Josie, he reached across the table and tried to take puff pastry from Drake’s plate. Lightning fast, Drake caught his small hand.
Misty said, “Harris, don’t take food from other people’s plates.”
“But JoJo did it,” Harris said.
With a devilish grin, Drake let go of Harris’s hand and reached across to tickle under his arm. Josie barely kept him on her lap as he recoiled, giggling. When he calmed down, Drake handed him two puffs.
Josie looked back at Misty. “Is everything okay?”
While Harris was focused on his food, Misty rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. Or it will be after you talk to him.” She pointed the masher at Harris.
Josie looped an arm around his waist and squeezed. “What’s going on?”
He shrugged. Around a mouthful of food, he said, “Ask Mom.”
“No,” Misty said. “You need to tell her.”
With a sigh, Harris turned so he could look at Josie’s face. “Mom says I have to talk to you about the Woodsman because I have so many nightmares now.”
“The who?” said Trinity.
Harris picked up a puff and squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger. Cream cheese oozed from the ends of it. When he didn’t answer, Josie said, “Harris, who is the Woodsman?”
Misty dropped the masher into the sink and walked over, lovingly tousling his blond hair. “It’s okay, honey. Talk to Aunt JoJo. I promise you’ll feel better.”
He took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds, and released it. “The Woodsman is a man, and he lives in the woods and he takes little kids and never brings them back to their moms.”
Drake said, “That sounds pretty scary.”
Without looking up from his puff, Harris nodded.
Josie said, “Where did you hear about this?”
His feet swung back and forth. “School.”
“Kids at school told you about this…this Woodsman?” Josie asked.
Another nod.
Trinity said, “In my experience, kids at school are notoriously unreliable sources.”
Harris snuck a look at her. She smiled.
Misty said, “Apparently, they’re all talking about this…man. I don’t know where it started or why, but now he’s having nightmares almost every night and no matter how many times I tell him that the Woodsman isn’t real, he doesn’t believe me.”
“Because he is real, Mom!” Harris protested, meeting Misty’s gaze.
Josie hugged him again. “Actually,” she said. “He’s not. You know how I know?”
“How?”
