down the road, clanging and clattering.
No, it was only the wind chimes jangling in the backyard as the stormtroubled the branch they hung from. She’d been dreaming about pies, coffeecake, and casseroles. About Ardelle and all the other hometown folks who’d brought meals after the funeral, thinking good food and a hug could fix just about anything.
But one wild thread of the dream included a blurry glimpse of her dad trotting down a woodland trail with his hound dog, Geezer, at his heels.
She turned toward the neon-green glow of the digital alarm clock, a fuzzy rectangle of light, and squinted. Ten minutes past three. Lowering her head to the pillow, she curled into a ball and tucked her flannel nightgown around her icy feet.
Between snatches of sleep, she’d spent the night plagued with vivid memories of her dad and his buddy, Gary Bright. With their blue eyes, narrow faces, and sandy-blond hair, they’d always looked like brothers. They’d been as close as brothers too, since their days together at Prospect Elementary.
Gary was like family, still. If anybody could help her sort out the truth, Cassie’s dad could. He might be as skeptical as Sean, though.
Something knocked softly in the night. Knuckles rapping on the back door? A silly notion, but she lifted her head from the pillow and listened, her skin prickling.
Nothing but wind. Branches bumping each other. One storm had passed, and another one was moving in. That was all.
She tugged the blanket more snugly around her neck.
A soft thud met her ears—and then a faint meow. That thud, at least, was only Mikey, probably jumping down from the table he knew was forbidden territory. The poor old kitty slept most of the day and roamed the house at night, wanting to escape to the great outdoors. He must have beengoing stir-crazy all month, cooped up by himself except for Ardelle’s daily visits.
With a vague thought of fixing a hot drink to settle her nerves, Laura threw back the covers and swung her feet to the cold hardwood floor. The furniture hadn’t been rearranged in years. Every time she came home, she prided herself in finding her way through the house in the dark. She could even brew tea without turning on a light.
By moonlight, Laura found her glasses and thick socks, then made her way into the living room to fetch the small quilt that lay folded across the back of the couch. Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, she headed for the kitchen. She still didn’t want to turn on a light. Just in case somebody was out there.
Silly, maybe, but she’d learned caution when she was a young girl and a prowler had roamed the town, tossing pebbles at window screens. Time to lock and load, her dad had said. They’d all breathed easier when the Peeping Tom turned out to be Slattery. An oddball, but harmless. Still, Laura had felt safer once he’d skipped town.
Now was her dad a prowler? An oddball, but harmless . That’s what everybody would say. It hurt to think of people putting him in Slattery’s category—sick, dirty, twisted—when her dad had always been upright and honorable.
The kitchen smelled like potting soil and flowers, earthy and flowery at the same time. Like she’d always imagined Eden. Recalling what Sean had said about the lilies, she closed her eyes, going back to long-ago Easters with her parents and both sets of grandparents. Her mom always put fresh flowers on the table, and she gave Laura the job of scattering candy-coated Jordan almonds across the white tablecloth like pastel confetti.
Every year, her dad began their feast by reading a few Bible verses aloud.She’d loved to inhale the heavenly aromas—roasted lamb, scalloped potatoes, homemade rolls—while he read the amazing story. An angel. An empty tomb. The grave clothes, abandoned. Then the best part: He is not here; He has risen! It was the best twist ever, the happiest, craziest surprise ending. It always made her want to stand up and cheer, but she’d only
No, it was only the wind chimes jangling in the backyard as the stormtroubled the branch they hung from. She’d been dreaming about pies, coffeecake, and casseroles. About Ardelle and all the other hometown folks who’d brought meals after the funeral, thinking good food and a hug could fix just about anything.
But one wild thread of the dream included a blurry glimpse of her dad trotting down a woodland trail with his hound dog, Geezer, at his heels.
She turned toward the neon-green glow of the digital alarm clock, a fuzzy rectangle of light, and squinted. Ten minutes past three. Lowering her head to the pillow, she curled into a ball and tucked her flannel nightgown around her icy feet.
Between snatches of sleep, she’d spent the night plagued with vivid memories of her dad and his buddy, Gary Bright. With their blue eyes, narrow faces, and sandy-blond hair, they’d always looked like brothers. They’d been as close as brothers too, since their days together at Prospect Elementary.
Gary was like family, still. If anybody could help her sort out the truth, Cassie’s dad could. He might be as skeptical as Sean, though.
Something knocked softly in the night. Knuckles rapping on the back door? A silly notion, but she lifted her head from the pillow and listened, her skin prickling.
Nothing but wind. Branches bumping each other. One storm had passed, and another one was moving in. That was all.
She tugged the blanket more snugly around her neck.
A soft thud met her ears—and then a faint meow. That thud, at least, was only Mikey, probably jumping down from the table he knew was forbidden territory. The poor old kitty slept most of the day and roamed the house at night, wanting to escape to the great outdoors. He must have beengoing stir-crazy all month, cooped up by himself except for Ardelle’s daily visits.
With a vague thought of fixing a hot drink to settle her nerves, Laura threw back the covers and swung her feet to the cold hardwood floor. The furniture hadn’t been rearranged in years. Every time she came home, she prided herself in finding her way through the house in the dark. She could even brew tea without turning on a light.
By moonlight, Laura found her glasses and thick socks, then made her way into the living room to fetch the small quilt that lay folded across the back of the couch. Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, she headed for the kitchen. She still didn’t want to turn on a light. Just in case somebody was out there.
Silly, maybe, but she’d learned caution when she was a young girl and a prowler had roamed the town, tossing pebbles at window screens. Time to lock and load, her dad had said. They’d all breathed easier when the Peeping Tom turned out to be Slattery. An oddball, but harmless. Still, Laura had felt safer once he’d skipped town.
Now was her dad a prowler? An oddball, but harmless . That’s what everybody would say. It hurt to think of people putting him in Slattery’s category—sick, dirty, twisted—when her dad had always been upright and honorable.
The kitchen smelled like potting soil and flowers, earthy and flowery at the same time. Like she’d always imagined Eden. Recalling what Sean had said about the lilies, she closed her eyes, going back to long-ago Easters with her parents and both sets of grandparents. Her mom always put fresh flowers on the table, and she gave Laura the job of scattering candy-coated Jordan almonds across the white tablecloth like pastel confetti.
Every year, her dad began their feast by reading a few Bible verses aloud.She’d loved to inhale the heavenly aromas—roasted lamb, scalloped potatoes, homemade rolls—while he read the amazing story. An angel. An empty tomb. The grave clothes, abandoned. Then the best part: He is not here; He has risen! It was the best twist ever, the happiest, craziest surprise ending. It always made her want to stand up and cheer, but she’d only
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