Unspeakable by Sandra Brown Page B

stairs. As he splashed in the tub with his fleet of plastic ships, she went through her face-cleansing routine. Usually she approached it as a necessary, no-fuss procedure, which she performed without thinking too much about it.
    Tonight, however, she took a few extra moments to study her face closely in the mirror above the sink. The hated dusting of freckles was responding to the summer sun. She must remember to apply sunscreen before going out. Her deep blue eyes were her father's. Her small nose was her mother's. Luckily she had inherited the best of both of them.
    Unluckily, she had lost her parents far too early. They had died, months apart, shortly after she married Dean—her mother of liver cancer, her father of heart disease.
    She wished they had lived long enough to see her healthy, hearing son. Of course she wished Dean had, too.
    Impatient with herself for dwelling on sad things, she pulled David from the tub. He took forever to dry off, put on his pajamas, and brush his teeth, delaying bedtime until she had to scold him mildly. When finally his head was on the pillow, she sat down on the edge of the bed for his prayers.
    He closed his eyes and folded his hands beneath his chin. She watched his lips form the familiar words. "God bless Daddy who's already in heaven. God bless Grandpa. God bless Mom. And God bless Jack."
    Anna wasn't sure she had read his lips correctly. David seldom changed his prayer. Since the nighttime ritual had begun, there had been very few extra "God bless"es. Once for a raccoon. They had treated the scavenger like a pet, scattering Lucky Charms on the porch for him every evening, then watching from inside when he came to feast. One morning Delray found him dead in the readjust outside their gate. He'd been run over. David had prayed for him for several nights.
    Another time he had asked God's blessing on a teddy bear he'd accidentally left at McDonald's. By the time they discovered the toy missing and went back for it, it was gone. The teddy had been remembered for about a week.
    Those were the only two exceptions she could recall.
    But was it really all that surprising that David should include Jack Sawyer in his prayers? His arrival was the most exciting thing to happen to David in a long time.
    To a boy David's age, Sawyer must seem like a character from an adventure story. He wasn't as old as Delray, not by twenty years or more. He wasn't soft and pale like the pediatrician who had treated David since he was born. He didn't have the gentle mannerisms of the minister who sometimes came to visit them even though the last sermon they'd heard from him was Dean's burial service, Jack Sawyer wasn't like any other man within her son's small world. With his boots, his Indian-made knife, his knowledge of dinosaurs, and his battered pickup truck—a faded orange Chevy that bore its scars as proudly as a war veteran—it was little wonder that he had made such a striking impression.
    After saying a final amen, David opened his eyes. "Do you think he liked me, Mom?" It was pointless to play dumb and pretend that she didn't know he was referring to Jack Sawyer.
    " I'm sure he did. Who wouldn't like you? " She reached out and tickled his belly. Usually he enjoyed the tickling sessions and wanted them to continue even when Anna was ready to call it quits. But tonight he didn't respond with his customary giggles. Instead, he rolled to his side and stacked his hands beneath his cheek.
    "When I grow up, will I be as tall as Jack?"
    " You may even be taller."
    "I wish I could show him my dinosaur book." Then he yawned hugely and closed his eyes. Anna remained seated on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, her heart and throat feeling tight as she gazed down at him and wished Dean could have known him. Dean would have made a wonderful father. David had been cheated out of that.
    Delray was the only adult male in his life. Delray was a good man. Although outwardly stern, underneath he was kindhearted.