the stairs. “Lots more.”
“Dammit!” Amy threw up her hands in frustration.
While he packed, Amy stood at the far end of the living room; her eyes fixed on their wedding photo, her thoughts once again on re-run. Finally, she switched off the living room lights so she could see across the bay and walked out onto the veranda. The moon glistened on the dark ocean surface. The night was silent except for waves washing softly over the sand. Everything beyond her porch looked normal. How could that be?
In the past thirty hours her entire life had turned upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. She tried to sort her thoughts from her feelings, but couldn’t separate them. Her brain had mutated into a mass of swirling confusion and chaos. Amy closed her eyes. She was scared, not only because of everything that had happened, but because she was completely alone with no one to turn to. She felt her life tumbling away. Tears ran down her cheeks. With Dan gone, she would be left to run the house alone, raise Jamie alone, make decisions alone, and worst of all, live as an adult—alone. She was terrified of what lie ahead.
She had arrived at a turning point in her life.
Stepping back inside, Amy locked the sliding door behind her. She saw Dan drag four heavy bags outside. He left without another word, slamming the door closed behind him. She double locked it and stood dumbfounded in the entry. Her emotions churned, but she could no longer make sense out of what she was feeling or thinking. Even the house felt different—still and uncertain.
Amy forced her emotions on hold, a survival trick she’d learned after her parents died. She couldn’t deal with Dan’s departure right now, nor could she bear to be alone. She was worried about Jamie and needed to think. For now, Jamie was safe with Nita and Brandon. Whoever had threatened her wouldn’t know where Jamie was. The danger would come when she picked him up from Nita’s, twelve hours from now. Quickly, she showered and dressed, leaving the house before dawn.
CHAPTER 10
By the time the sun rose above the treetops, Amy had reached the small community of Beaverdale, where she was born. It was her hope that she would find some answers in her birthplace. Her plan was twofold. First, talk to her grandparents’ neighbors to see if anyone remembered her mother and father. They had lived with her grandparents when Amy was born. It was a long shot, but she might learn something that would help. Second, Amy wanted to visit the records department at St. Mary’s hospital, where she was born.
Exiting the I-5, she passed through Beaverdale and continued on to the countryside. The day promised blue sky and a cool fall sun. Fall leaves swirled around the jeep as it bounced over the rutted bridge deck near her grandparent’s old house. Amy drove down the hill, and came to a stop in front of the white, impeccably landscaped sixties house that they owned decades earlier. An aging Paperbark Maple stood like a sentry next to the drive. Childhood memories rushed back.
The blue-green river that ambled behind the house triggered a different memory. It was the day Amy had gone fishing with the small fishing pole her dad had made for her. She’d waded out to a boulder, midstream, climbed up on it, and cast the line like her father had taught her. Suddenly, the line pulled taut and the pole flew out of her small hand. She jumped to catch the rod, but her foot slipped off the rock and she found herself in deep water on the far side of the boulder. Amy could still see herself dropping through the slow moving water, onto the rocky riverbed. The current dragged her helplessly along it. She looked up and wondered how to get back up to the surface. Her small body screamed for air, but she knew there was none. She scrambled up a submerged rock, but the surface was still too far away. Terrified and needing to breathe, she jumped upward, kicking hard, clawing at the water until she
“Dammit!” Amy threw up her hands in frustration.
While he packed, Amy stood at the far end of the living room; her eyes fixed on their wedding photo, her thoughts once again on re-run. Finally, she switched off the living room lights so she could see across the bay and walked out onto the veranda. The moon glistened on the dark ocean surface. The night was silent except for waves washing softly over the sand. Everything beyond her porch looked normal. How could that be?
In the past thirty hours her entire life had turned upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. She tried to sort her thoughts from her feelings, but couldn’t separate them. Her brain had mutated into a mass of swirling confusion and chaos. Amy closed her eyes. She was scared, not only because of everything that had happened, but because she was completely alone with no one to turn to. She felt her life tumbling away. Tears ran down her cheeks. With Dan gone, she would be left to run the house alone, raise Jamie alone, make decisions alone, and worst of all, live as an adult—alone. She was terrified of what lie ahead.
She had arrived at a turning point in her life.
Stepping back inside, Amy locked the sliding door behind her. She saw Dan drag four heavy bags outside. He left without another word, slamming the door closed behind him. She double locked it and stood dumbfounded in the entry. Her emotions churned, but she could no longer make sense out of what she was feeling or thinking. Even the house felt different—still and uncertain.
Amy forced her emotions on hold, a survival trick she’d learned after her parents died. She couldn’t deal with Dan’s departure right now, nor could she bear to be alone. She was worried about Jamie and needed to think. For now, Jamie was safe with Nita and Brandon. Whoever had threatened her wouldn’t know where Jamie was. The danger would come when she picked him up from Nita’s, twelve hours from now. Quickly, she showered and dressed, leaving the house before dawn.
CHAPTER 10
By the time the sun rose above the treetops, Amy had reached the small community of Beaverdale, where she was born. It was her hope that she would find some answers in her birthplace. Her plan was twofold. First, talk to her grandparents’ neighbors to see if anyone remembered her mother and father. They had lived with her grandparents when Amy was born. It was a long shot, but she might learn something that would help. Second, Amy wanted to visit the records department at St. Mary’s hospital, where she was born.
Exiting the I-5, she passed through Beaverdale and continued on to the countryside. The day promised blue sky and a cool fall sun. Fall leaves swirled around the jeep as it bounced over the rutted bridge deck near her grandparent’s old house. Amy drove down the hill, and came to a stop in front of the white, impeccably landscaped sixties house that they owned decades earlier. An aging Paperbark Maple stood like a sentry next to the drive. Childhood memories rushed back.
The blue-green river that ambled behind the house triggered a different memory. It was the day Amy had gone fishing with the small fishing pole her dad had made for her. She’d waded out to a boulder, midstream, climbed up on it, and cast the line like her father had taught her. Suddenly, the line pulled taut and the pole flew out of her small hand. She jumped to catch the rod, but her foot slipped off the rock and she found herself in deep water on the far side of the boulder. Amy could still see herself dropping through the slow moving water, onto the rocky riverbed. The current dragged her helplessly along it. She looked up and wondered how to get back up to the surface. Her small body screamed for air, but she knew there was none. She scrambled up a submerged rock, but the surface was still too far away. Terrified and needing to breathe, she jumped upward, kicking hard, clawing at the water until she
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