porch and in the van. The car engine revved, and her headlights flashed across the driveway.
He closed the door and leaned against it, surveying the mess that was his home. A wave of longing—for Kaye—rolled over him, pulling him into its undertow.
He looked across the room at Kayeleigh’s bed and stopped in his tracks. There were two forms beneath the fluffy comforter.
Chapter Eight
H arley had kicked her blankets off and Doug tucked them over her sleeping form. She was on her belly, thumb in her mouth, her round little bottom hiked in the air. Kaye always called her Mount Saint Harley when she slept in that position.
He pulled the door shut and went upstairs to check on the other kids. Landon was sprawled diagonally across his twin bed, the covers tangled between his lanky limbs. When had he gotten so tall? The kids had all grown and changed in the two months since he’d lost Kaye and Rachel. A vivid image formed in his mind of Kaye walking through the door, like she was coming home from a week in Florida with her mom. “Oh, my goodness,” he heard her say as clearly as if she were standing in the room beside him. “They’ve all grown a foot since I left.”
Doug shook off the vision, unsettled, yet strangely comforted by the memory of Kaye’s voice. It had started to bother him when he couldn’t remember what her voice had sounded like.
He disentangled Landon from the blankets and covered him back up, then scraped a path through the toys so the kid wouldn’t kill himself when he got up to go to the bathroom at 5:00 a.m. like he always did.
He went down the hall to check on the girls. Sadie and Sarah were curled in the middle of their bed, back to front like teaspoons in a drawer. He envied them each other’s warmth. It struck him that, in a house of six, they were the only two who had the comfort of the warmth of another body now.
He looked across the room at Kayeleigh’s bed and stopped in his tracks. There were two forms beneath the fluffy comforter. The image dragged him two months into the past, when their sweet Rachel had been Kayeleigh’s bed partner. For a minute he was disoriented. Had Kayeleigh invited a friend to spend the night? He didn’t remember that. But then, his memory hadn’t been exactly trustworthy lately. But surely he would have remembered an extra person at the dinner table.
Maybe one of the twins had crawled in bed with Kayeleigh. But a glance at their bed confirmed that he’d indeed seen two curly heads on twin pillows. He’d just seen Landon and Harley in their beds. Everybody was accounted for.
She’d better not have snuck one of the muddy dogs in to sleep with her. Squinting through the dim light that spilled into the room from the hallway, he tiptoed to Rachel’s side of the bed, trying to figure out who was in bed with Kayeleigh. Whoever it was had burrowed deep into the quilts.
Gingerly he pulled the covers back. An empty pillow. He pulled the quilts down farther. Another pillow—this one turned the long way in the bed. Kayeleigh breathed deeply, asleep beside the row of pillows. Doug pulled the blankets back up over the Rachel-shaped form, then snugged them around Kayeleigh’s shoulders, aching for the daughterhe’d lost. And, for the first time, realizing the depth of Kayeleigh ’s loss.
She’d been so morose lately, and distant. It seemed he had to repeat everything he said to her at least twice because she was off in some la-la land daydream. He didn’t know whether to chalk it up to grief or simply preteen hormones. Kaye had been warning him for a year now that Kayeleigh would soon hit puberty and that they might be in for some rocky times with their sweet firstborn.
With a king-size lump in his throat, he crept back downstairs to his own bed. He didn’t want to lose another daughter. He had to find a way to reach her.
Harley stirred when he came into the chilly room, but she stilled and her breaths came evenly again after he put another quilt
He closed the door and leaned against it, surveying the mess that was his home. A wave of longing—for Kaye—rolled over him, pulling him into its undertow.
He looked across the room at Kayeleigh’s bed and stopped in his tracks. There were two forms beneath the fluffy comforter.
Chapter Eight
H arley had kicked her blankets off and Doug tucked them over her sleeping form. She was on her belly, thumb in her mouth, her round little bottom hiked in the air. Kaye always called her Mount Saint Harley when she slept in that position.
He pulled the door shut and went upstairs to check on the other kids. Landon was sprawled diagonally across his twin bed, the covers tangled between his lanky limbs. When had he gotten so tall? The kids had all grown and changed in the two months since he’d lost Kaye and Rachel. A vivid image formed in his mind of Kaye walking through the door, like she was coming home from a week in Florida with her mom. “Oh, my goodness,” he heard her say as clearly as if she were standing in the room beside him. “They’ve all grown a foot since I left.”
Doug shook off the vision, unsettled, yet strangely comforted by the memory of Kaye’s voice. It had started to bother him when he couldn’t remember what her voice had sounded like.
He disentangled Landon from the blankets and covered him back up, then scraped a path through the toys so the kid wouldn’t kill himself when he got up to go to the bathroom at 5:00 a.m. like he always did.
He went down the hall to check on the girls. Sadie and Sarah were curled in the middle of their bed, back to front like teaspoons in a drawer. He envied them each other’s warmth. It struck him that, in a house of six, they were the only two who had the comfort of the warmth of another body now.
He looked across the room at Kayeleigh’s bed and stopped in his tracks. There were two forms beneath the fluffy comforter. The image dragged him two months into the past, when their sweet Rachel had been Kayeleigh’s bed partner. For a minute he was disoriented. Had Kayeleigh invited a friend to spend the night? He didn’t remember that. But then, his memory hadn’t been exactly trustworthy lately. But surely he would have remembered an extra person at the dinner table.
Maybe one of the twins had crawled in bed with Kayeleigh. But a glance at their bed confirmed that he’d indeed seen two curly heads on twin pillows. He’d just seen Landon and Harley in their beds. Everybody was accounted for.
She’d better not have snuck one of the muddy dogs in to sleep with her. Squinting through the dim light that spilled into the room from the hallway, he tiptoed to Rachel’s side of the bed, trying to figure out who was in bed with Kayeleigh. Whoever it was had burrowed deep into the quilts.
Gingerly he pulled the covers back. An empty pillow. He pulled the quilts down farther. Another pillow—this one turned the long way in the bed. Kayeleigh breathed deeply, asleep beside the row of pillows. Doug pulled the blankets back up over the Rachel-shaped form, then snugged them around Kayeleigh’s shoulders, aching for the daughterhe’d lost. And, for the first time, realizing the depth of Kayeleigh ’s loss.
She’d been so morose lately, and distant. It seemed he had to repeat everything he said to her at least twice because she was off in some la-la land daydream. He didn’t know whether to chalk it up to grief or simply preteen hormones. Kaye had been warning him for a year now that Kayeleigh would soon hit puberty and that they might be in for some rocky times with their sweet firstborn.
With a king-size lump in his throat, he crept back downstairs to his own bed. He didn’t want to lose another daughter. He had to find a way to reach her.
Harley stirred when he came into the chilly room, but she stilled and her breaths came evenly again after he put another quilt
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