Ghost Moon by Karen Robards

two-bedroom apartment, Olivia guessed it was. ‘‘Told you.’’
    ‘‘I thought you might be just making it up.’’
    ‘‘ Me lie to you ? Never,’’ Olivia said. Sara giggled. Olivia heard the sound with relief.
    ‘‘See this bed?’’ Olivia continued, crossing to it and throwing herself down on her back, arms spread wide.
    Sara nodded.
    ‘‘This is the bed I used to sleep in when I was a little girl. It had a yellow bedspread then with big cabbage roses on it, and lots of lace around the pillows. And there were lots of pillows.’’
    ‘‘And you had a big doll with yellow hair and a pink dress named Victoria Elizabeth.’’ Sara walked over to stand beside the bed, smiling down at her mother. She had heard the stories many times, and knew all the details almost as well as Olivia did.
    ‘‘That’s right.’’
    ‘‘And you painted your hair yellow once, so you would look like the doll. And—and your aunt Callie tried and tried to wash it out, but it wouldn’t come out, and you ended up having to get all your hair cut off.’’ Sara’s smile turned into a grin, and she flopped down on her stomach beside her mother. ‘‘I can’t believe you would do something that stupid.’’
    ‘‘It wasn’t one of my better moments, I admit.’’
    ‘‘And a nutria came down the chimney once, and when you woke up it was sitting on your pillow staring at you. You screamed so loud that you woke up everybody in the house, and they came running in, and the nutria was running all over the room and when Seth tried to shoo it out it bit him and he had to get rabies shots.’’
    ‘‘Yup.’’
    ‘‘It was all true, ’’ Sara said, enchanted. ‘‘There really was a doll, and a nutria, and—’’
    A rap on the door caused Olivia to sit up, feeling slightly foolish about being caught in her abandoned posture on the bed. Beside her, Sara sat up, too, and scooted off the bed as though scared she had done something wrong. Martha stood in the open doorway, her gaze moving over them indulgently.
    ‘‘I’ve brought both you girls nightgowns,’’ she said, indicating with a gesture the articles of clothing draped over her right forearm. ‘‘And robes. And toothbrushes.’’
    ‘‘Oh, Martha, you’re wonderful.’’ Olivia stood up and moved across the room to take the items from her. ‘‘Thanks.’’
    Martha smiled first at her, then at Sara. ‘‘It’s good to have you home, Miss Olivia. And you, too, Miss Sara.’’ Martha left, and Olivia closed the door. Turning back to her daughter, she found Sara standing beside the bed, wide-eyed.
    ‘‘She called me Miss Sara .’’
    ‘‘That’s just the way things are done around here. Don’t let it go to your head.’’
    Sara wrinkled her nose. ‘‘I won’t.’’
    ‘‘Good. I’d hate to see your head get swelled up so much that it would just pop like a balloon. Your brains would go all over the walls and—’’
    ‘‘That’s gross!’’
    ‘‘I know.’’ Olivia chuckled at the expression on her child’s face. She had been trying to cheer her up, and apparently she’d succeeded.
    Moments later, nightclothes and toothbrushes in hand, Olivia and Sara went along to the bathroom across the hall to wash up and brush their teeth. It was too late for anything more, and to quiet her conscience Olivia told herself that missing her nightly bath wouldn’t hurt Sara this once. After they were clean, and clad in borrowed nightgowns—Sara’s was pink, but otherwise almost identical to the sleeveless blue one Chloe had worn, while the ownership of Olivia’s knee-length green nylon number was murkier—they padded back to the bedroom, closed the door, turned out the light, and got into bed.
    Olivia meant to wait until Sara went to sleep, then get up, go to the kitchen, and, if there was no news, call around until she found the hospital where Big John had been taken. She was certain that it would be in Baton Rouge, and that being the case