Safe in His Arms by Dana Corbit Page B

Anything but that. But she could do this for her niece, and she would swallow her pride with barely a sour taste to do it.
    She cast another worried glance at the top of the stairs where Emma stood, continuing to sob.
    Lindsay had tried. In the more than an hour since Emma had awakened from a nightmare screaming, Lindsay had held her, brushed back her hair and rubbed her back. But nothing she did comforted Emma even a little. The child had just continued wailing and asking for her mommy.
    The one thing Lindsay couldn’t give her.
    Sometimes she even cried for Trooper Joe.
    Lindsay had prayed often during this time, too, but Emma had just kept on crying. But then Lindsay had remembered her minister’s words about part of praying being listening for God’s call to act. She had to act now. She might not be able to give Emma her mommy, but she could fulfill her second request.
    Emma couldn’t keep going like this or she would make herself sick. And then there were the neighbors to worry about, people living only a wall away in their attached condos. Would someone call the police because they were disturbing the peace?
    Because she hadn’t entered the number in her contacts, she read it from the card and dialed. He answered on the second ring.
    â€œRossetti.”
    â€œJoe? I mean…Trooper Joe…ah, Trooper Rossetti?”
    â€œLindsay? Is that you? Is everything all right? Just relax and tell me.”
    She would have thought that he’d just recognized her number from his cell’s caller ID, but she hadn’t given him her number. Still, he’d known her voice, even probably coming out of a REM sleep cycle. Immediately, a rush of calm flooded through Lindsay, although she couldn’t decide whether it was his words or his soothing voice. She cleared her throat, but he didn’t give her a chance to talk.
    â€œLindsay? Lindsay?” His voice was louder this time, not calm at all. “What is that sound?”
    She glanced over her shoulder to find that Emma had scooted farther down on the stairs and was sitting on a step, looking pitiful and small as she continued crying.
    â€œIt’s Emma,” she called out, trying to talk over the noise. “She had a nightmare, and she’s hysterical. Nothing I do seems to help.” She cleared her throat and thenshoved right through her pride. “Would you be willing—”
    â€œI’ll be there in ten.”
    He clicked off the call before she could say thank you. Or change her mind. She wouldn’t allow herself to second-guess anyway. Joe was coming. She didn’t care if forty-eight hours ago she had insisted she didn’t need any help from anyone, Joe least of all. Now she was just relieved he was willing to help.
    Unlocking the door, Lindsay climbed halfway up the staircase and sat on a step, using the rail to steady herself in the absence of her cane. Still sobbing, Emma scrambled into her lap and curled into a little-girl ball.
    â€œIt’s going to be okay, sweetie,” she whispered, as she brushed back Emma’s sweaty hair, so soft and dark like her mother’s. “ We’re going to be okay.”
    From her perch on the staircase, Lindsay rocked the precious cargo in her arms, the edge of the step biting into her back every time she rocked backward. She didn’t know any lullabies, so she hummed “The Old Rugged Cross” instead. Closing her eyes, she let the song be a prayer.
    Lindsay didn’t know how much time had passed before she heard a quiet knock on her front door and then the turn of the unlocked doorknob. It took her a second to realize that she’d heard both of those sounds because Emma was no longer making any noise. The child curled against her was asleep. Lindsay couldn’t believe her eyes.
    Joe stuck his head inside the door and looked around the room. “Lindsay?”
    â€œUp here,” she answered, just above a whisper.
    He glanced up,