To Laney, with Love
Author
Joyce Sullivan
Reads
18,3K
Chapters
12
Chapter 1
To Laney, With Love.
The familiar handwriting on the small, stiff white envelope she’d found tucked into her mailbox on her wedding anniversary made Laney Dobson’s heart palpitate. The advertising circulars dropped with a thunk to the snow-encrusted front step as she pulled off her fur-lined leather gloves and slid trembling fingers beneath the back flap of the envelope. The frigid Ottawa temperature numbed her fingers to the bone as she pulled out a beautifully ornate Victorian card that depicted a youthful, dark-haired rapscallion snatching a kiss from a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed maiden.
Laney fearfully opened the card. Written plain as day were a few lines in her husband’s hand:
Laney shook her head, trying to rouse herself from what could only be a dream. Reese, her husband, was dead.
The cold nipping her cheeks convinced her she wasn’t asleep and she wasn’t imagining the note. Forgetting the circulars, she opened the door of her sun porch and made a hectic dash back into the foyer of her house, needing to feel the security of the walls of the cozy cottage she’d shared with Reese for the nine years they’d been married, around her. The card and the envelope were still in her hands when she dared to look at them again. The writing still resembled Reese’s.
Laney sagged against the wall, bumping into Josh’s hockey stick, which poked out from the umbrella stand of her oak hall tree. Hope flared in her heart. Reese’s body had never been recovered from the avalanche in the coastal mountains of Whistler, British Columbia. Could he have survived somehow?
Why wait fourteen months to contact her, then?
Laney examined the envelope. There was no postmark. It had been hand-delivered. Today was Monday. She’d been home working all morning. She and Josh had been in and out over the weekend for his hockey games Saturday and Sunday morning, followed by a family skating party for the team Sunday afternoon.
They’d been so busy she’d forgotten to get the Sunday circulars from the mailbox. But she couldn’t believe Reese would come by the house and not let himself in. A spare key for Josh was still hidden inside a grinning verdigris frog strategically placed on a boulder in the shrub bed to the left of the front steps. At least she thought so. She stumbled outdoors to check. The key was still in the frog, right where it should be. Reese couldn’t possibly have delivered the note. If he were alive, he’d be here with them.
So who had?
Josh?
The answer was so simple that Laney scolded herself as tears sprang to her eyes. He and his friend Scott had been rummaging through the boxes in the basement for clothes to conceal their superhero costumes. Maybe they’d found the card in one of Reese’s coat pockets—Reese had always been romantic about planting love notes in unexpected places—and Josh had decided to give it to her. It was sweet and thoughtful.... He’d probably tucked it in the mailbox before leaving for school this morning.
Laney choked back a sob. Good thing Josh hadn’t been here when she’d discovered it, because her blubbering would probably have upset him. Josh was the most wonderful gift Reese had ever given her. It broke her heart that her little boy was going to grow up without a father. Laney lovingly pressed the card to her lips and stood it on the glove box of the hall tree so Josh would know she’d found it. Then, heading outside, she wiped her damp cheeks to prevent her tears from forming into icicles while she scraped the frost off her car windows.
If she didn’t hurry she’d be late for a planning meeting at Carleton University, where she worked as a line editor for the university press.
“Heavens, you look terrible,” Colombe Cyr proclaimed twenty minutes later when Laney barreled into the meeting room, hefting her leather satchel.
“Oh, thanks,” Laney said, flashing the tall, silverhaired child psychologist a harried smile. Colombe was here on sabbatical from Dalhousie University in Halifax, working on a joint research project with a Carleton University child psychologist on the challenges of parenting blended families. They were in the midst of putting the final manuscript together. Laney had hit it off right away with the quirky Haligonian prof when they’d met almost a year ago. The fact they were both widows gave them an immediate empathy for each other. “I’m racing as usual. Are we still on for lunch? In between the gossip, I want to pick your brain about something personal.”
“Sounds interesting. Is it male-related?” Colombe grinned behind narrow, raspberry-pink eyeglass frames that softened the innately inquisitive sharpness of her owlish brown eyes.
“Sort of—it’s about Josh.” Actually, Laney hoped to solicit her friend’s advice about how Josh was coping with Reese’s death.
“Ah, one of my favorite males. I’m all ears. How about the Faculty Club? I feel like celebrating. We’re almost done with the project.”
Laney smiled, glad she wouldn’t have to lunch alone on her wedding anniversary. She could raise a glass of wine and toast Reese.
VALENTINE’S DAY was two weeks away. Ben Forbes looked at his day planner on his desk and tried to figure out what sticky rules of etiquette applied when a man wanted to ask out the mother of his son’s best friend. After his wife Rebecca had died of breast cancer four years ago, he’d had his fair share of dates since returning to the singles scene. Why did this one make him so nervous?
He knew exactly why. Because it was Laney. He’d never met a woman whose personality sparkled so brilliantly in her eyes. Those blue eyes danced with animation when she spoke. When she smiled, his heart spun like a puck on ice, and the sound of her musical laugh was enough to make him want to grovel at her feet.
And her body...oh, God! Every cell of Ben’s body went rigid at the thought. Laney’s soft, curvaceous body was a vessel for joy and Ben anticipated each minute he’d spend in her company like a teenager in the throes of his first crush.
The truth was, he’d been in love with her since two days before Christmas. She’d helped the boys bake sugar cookie angels, which the boys had then tied to helium balloons that Laney had bought to send their homemade gifts heavenward to Josh’s dad and Scott’s mom. Ben would never forget the joy on his son’s face when Laney had given Scott a permanent marker so he could write a message to his mom on the balloon. He’d written, “I love you. I’m on the Olympics hockey team this year. Dad’s the best coach.”
Ben swallowed hard and wiped away the moisture forming in his eyes. Laney had given Scott his mom back. She’d opened a connection that felt real to Scott. Ben would have given anything for a bough of mistletoe just then so he’d have an excuse to see if Laney’s kisses were as warm and fiery as the auburn of her hair. He’d settled for slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her close to him as they’d watched the yellow balloons ascend toward the heavens. He’d vowed right there and then that somehow, some way, the Dobsons and the Forbeses were going to become a family.
Ben scowled at the calendar. If the information from a nine-year-old informant—Laney’s son—could be believed, Laney hadn’t dated at all since Reese’s death. Was Valentine’s Day too soon? Maybe he should wait until the boys’ hockey season was over.
If Laney turned him down, they’d both be spared the awkwardness of avoiding each other in the change rooms before and after the Olympics’ games. Not that they wouldn’t have to see each other when the boys played together after school and on weekends. Scott had spent the night at Laney’s house last weekend. Ben had shared a cup of coffee with her Sunday morning while the boys finished blueberry pancakes and scurried downstairs to the basement to put on their hockey gear, chattering excitedly.
Lord, it had been sheer bliss. The only thing that could have made it better would have been to wake up beside her and thoroughly love every inch of her creamy skin before breakfast.
Ben gripped his pen so tightly his fingers cramped. No, he couldn’t wait until the end of the season. It had to be Valentine’s Day. Laney had a romantic streak. Her house was filled with flowers and bows and hand-painted china. Not to mention the pieces of art that Reese had brought her as gifts from his travels all over the world working as a financial analyst for CDN Investments. Reese had been Mr. Romance, apparently. Ben had learned that last October when he’d fixed a leaky tap in the master bathroom suite Reese had given Laney one Valentine’s Day. The tub had a waterfall, for Pete’s sake, plus a bank of mirrors and enough candles to light a church.
But what did a civil engineer who dealt in waste management know about romance—beyond the obligatory bouquet of roses? He and Rebecca had met in university. She’d been an engineer, too. Romance to them had been a six-pack of beer and a pizza. Laney was accustomed to a higher standard.
Ben sighed and kneaded his brow. Whatever he did, it had to be good.
JOSH HAD DONE IT AGAIN. Laney stared at the pink envelope in her mailbox, addressed in Reese’s handwriting, and wondered if her son had found a stash of Reese’s notes in the basement. But why today, the fifth of February?
Was Josh worried because she’d blown a fuse when he’d dropped the pitcher of orange juice on the kitchen floor at breakfast? The day had gotten off to a bad start. She’d stayed up way too late the night before line-editing a manuscript and didn’t hear the music on her radio-alarm clock for a good twenty minutes this morning. In the frantic race to mop the floor and pack his lunch, she’d realized she’d forgotten to buy granola bars for Josh’s lunch box. How could the lack of chocolate-coated oatmeal ruin a kid’s day? Probably for the same inexplicable reason that her day had soured when Josh announced he couldn’t find one of his mittens. Her lecture that he needed to be more responsible for his belongings earned her a guilt-inducing, “Scott’s dad is a single parent and he never yells at Scott for dumb things like losing a mitten.”
Laney sighed. Ben Forbes was perfect in Josh’s eyes. To be honest, Ben Forbes was perfect in just about any woman’s eyes and he had the social life to prove it. Sleek black hair, heartbreaker blue-black eyes and a wide, generous smile that she was finding increasingly hard to ignore. No wonder he was the buzz of minor-league hockey. And he was wonderful with the kids. Especially Josh. Josh was the only kid on the team whose dad wasn’t around—at least occasionally—to lace up his hockey skates. Laney just didn’t have the right touch. Josh always complained his skates were never tight enough when she did them. But they were perfect when Ben laced them.
It was one of those mysterious rites of boyhood that Laney didn’t understand. She was just glad Ben didn’t mind helping out.
Laney tore open the envelope and found a gilded, peephole valentine. Unease fluttered in her stomach when she saw the slumbering cupid framed in a vibrant red, heart-shaped border. With hesitant fingers, she lifted the top flap of the card. The cupid lay on a bed of white satin strewn with flowers, reminding her morbidly of the pink, red and yellow roses she’d thrown into the crevasse where Reese lay buried beneath three hundred feet of snow.
Her throat tightened convulsively as she read Reese’s words:
Laney swayed and gripped the wooden railing as her knees gave out. Her thoughts alternated between disbelief and shock. This couldn’t be happening... there must be some mistake. How could he be alive? She scanned the message again, her hand trembling so badly she could hardly read. “Make this our little secret” and “No police” conveyed a sinister, illicit context that made her stomach chum.
Laney sank onto the wooden steps and laid the card in her lap. Her head swam with confusing thoughts. Had Reese delivered the other note on their wedding anniversary a couple of weeks ago? Josh hadn’t said a word about the card she’d propped up on the hall tree. But then, he didn’t like talking about his dad.
Anger cut a swath through the confusion swirling in her brain. How dare Reese do this to her and Josh! What possible explanation could justify putting her and Josh through the agony of thinking him dead? Not to mention the legalities. Her heart skittered around like a stone in her rib cage as she thought about the money she’d collected on Reese’s life-insurance policy. Had she committed fraud?
Resting her head in her hands, Laney struggled between the temptation to call her lawyer and not go to Whistler at all, and her obligations to her wedding vows and to Josh.
The chill of the steps permeated the thick insulation of her coat and numbed the bones of her spine as the improbable story lines of various soap operas and TV . movies-of-the-week fueled a tenuous hope that her husband was about to be restored to her on the most romantic day of the year.
Maybe Reese had survived the avalanche and had been in a coma or suffered amnesia. Or maybe he’d witnessed a crime and the accident had been staged so he could be put into a witness protection program.
Or, a tiny voice pointed out, it was possible he’d used the avalanche as an excuse to walk away from them. He’d always been an independent man who’d needed his space. He traveled a great deal on business and often took a few days off to ski or golf, depending on the season. He always made time for a side trip to Whistler when he was in Vancouver on business. Now she wondered if his need for these solitary trips was an indication he wasn’t happy in their marriage. Maybe deep down he’d felt pressured into marrying her because she was pregnant and the thrill of being in love and being a father had worn thin for him. Laney tried to quash the tiny doubting voice. She told herself that Reese loved her and their son.
Whatever the explanation, she realized she owed it to herself and to Josh to hear Reese out. Somehow she had to get to Whistler, British Columbia, for Valentine’s Day—without Josh.
LANEY BREATHED A SIGH of relief when she arrived at Scott’s house at five-thirty to pick up Josh for dinner and saw Ben’s dark-green minivan in the driveway.
Laney rang the doorbell.
Georgina Forbes, Scott’s grandmother, a trim, efficient woman in dove-gray slacks and a pastel pink sweater, answered the door, wiping her blue-veined hands on a colorful dish towel draped over her shoulder. Laney was sure Ben had inherited every nice bone in his body from his mother. Georgina watched Scott after school and often had dinner with her son and grandson before driving off to her apartment in Vanier. “Come in, Laney. I was just trying to get a brownie pudding in the oven for dessert. I’ll tell Josh you’re here.”
Laney sniffed appreciatively. The house smelled heavenly of garlic, Italian spices and melted chocolate. The shouts and the monotonously merry music floating out from the living room told her the boys were happily occupied playing video games.
She gripped the valentine tucked into her coat pocket. “Wait, Georgina. Is Ben home? I was hoping I could talk to him privately for a minute.”
Ben’s mother’s lips quirked into a crooked smile that lit up her thin face and her pale-gray eyes. “He’s downstairs. He took the afternoon off and he’s been locked in the basement working on a top-secret project. Feel free to enter at your own risk.”
“Thanks.” Laney slipped out of her fawn leather boots, but left her coat on. She made a quick detour into the living room where Josh and Scott sat side by side on the carpet in front of the TV. She ruffled Josh’s blond hair.
“Aw, Mom, is it time to go already?” he complained. “I have a wedding to crash and a princess to save.”
Laney tried to keep a straight face. So far, Josh and Scott had steered clear of girls. Video-game princesses were obviously excluded. “By all means, rescue the princess. I need to talk to Ben anyway.”
“Good! Look out, I’ve got to kill the cake.”
Scott tore his eyes away from a medieval-style iron-studded oak door that swung open to reveal a wedding chapel on the TV screen. His black eyes were characteristically solemn as he gave her a shy smile. “Good luck, Laney. Dad’s grouchy. He wouldn’t even let us practice shooting goals in the basement.”
Just to be fair, she ruffled his hair, too. Scott’s hair was the same midnight shade as Ben’s, only curlier and saw a comb less often. “Thanks for the warning.”
As she padded down the carpeted basement stairs in her socks, Laney could hear a slightly off-key male voice accompanying a song on the radio. Was that Ben? He didn’t sound grouchy. His deep voice vibrated with contentment. Still, her legs trembled as she rapped on the closed door of his workshop. What was she going to do if he said no?
“Ben, it’s Laney,” she called in a shaky voice. “May I come in?”
Ben stopped singing in mid-verse and went into a full-scale panic as he dropped the rag he’d been using to stain the interlocking heart-shaped puzzle he’d spent the afternoon cutting and sanding from an oak plank. Laney was here?
“No! Hold on,” he barked, stripping the latex gloves from his hands and shutting off the radio. “I’ll be right out.”
His heart hammered an uneven rhythm as he strode to the door and opened it, purposely blocking her view onto his workbench. His body reacted instantly as he took in the details of her pale face, the contrast of her auburn hair against her moss-green suede coat and the coral leggings clinging to her shapely legs.
“I—I’m sorry...” she stammered “...I could come back if this is a bad time.”
Ben didn’t know if it was the poor lighting in the basement, but he could swear he saw fear tainting her expressive eyes. Her hands were jammed into her pockets as though she was struggling to keep her composure.
He instinctively stepped toward her, closing the door behind him. “Now’s fine. What’s up?” he asked in concern, battling an urge to take her in his arms. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
To his dismay, Laney blanched and swayed unsteadily on her feet. Ben grabbed her shoulders. The ultrafeminine feel of her limbs beneath her suede coat jolted his senses. “Easy! Do you want to sit down?”
Laney closed her eyes tightly for a second and shook her head. “No, I’d rather stand.” Ben kept his hold on her just in case. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“So ask,” he said, knowing damn well he’d grant her anything for the glorious pleasure of being close enough to her to smell the tantalizingly tropical scent of her shampoo.
“I need to know if you can watch Josh for me for a few days next week,” she said flatly. “I have to go out of town unexpectedly and I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be gone....”
A sense of impending doom hovered over his heart. Next week? “When are you leaving?” he croaked.
“I’m flying out on the thirteenth.”
Great. Ben suffered a pang of disappointment as his hopes for a romantic Valentine’s Day with Laney were reduced to a pile of sawdust. Just his luck a business trip would ruin his plans. Then he noticed the tears glimmering in her eyes.
He cupped her chin, nearly groaning aloud at the silky texture of her skin. Unbearable heat pounded to his groin. “Of course I’ll take care of Josh, but where are you going? And why are you crying?”
A tear slipped onto her cheek as she pulled her right hand out of her pocket and thrust something at him, her voice brittle. “I’m going to see Reese. Apparently he’s alive.”
Shocked, Ben closed his fingers around the crumpled valentine clenched in her trembling fingers. His lungs burned from lack of oxygen as he unfolded the glitzy red card and read the message.
To Laney, with love
From your one and only Valentine
I know you have questions but I can explain
The Rendezvous, 1:00 p.m. Christine’s
Whistler, Valentine’s Day.
Make this our little secret. No police.
The knowledge Laney still belonged to another man paralyzed him. Ben drew a deep breath past the pain in his heart and tried to focus all his thoughts on the message in the card, which he didn’t like the sound of one iota. Hell, Laney could be walking into a trap.
“How’d you get this?” he asked, examining the card carefully.
“I found it in my mailbox. There was no stamp or postmark.” Her voice caught. From her left coat pocket she extracted a second card and opened it for him to see. “I got this one a couple of weeks ago, on our wedding anniversary.”
Ben scanned the neatly block-printed words as she explained that she’d thought Josh had found it in the basement and put it in the mailbox to surprise her.
Ben swore under his breath. “Are you certain this is Reese’s handwriting?”
Laney nodded. Two more giant tears squeezed from her eyes. “How could he let us think he was dead?” She clamped her hand over her mouth, her whole body shaking.
“I don’t know,” he murmured thickly. Ben’s heart tore into more pieces than the puzzle he’d made for her this afternoon. How could that jerk walk away from his wife and son? He’d always thought Reese was a selfish bastard, leaving Laney at home with their child while he indulged in his hobbies. He tossed the cards onto a storage shelf and slipped his arms around her petite frame, cradling her against his chest.
“Oh, Ben!”
He felt a sob shudder through her. “It’s okay,” he whispered against her temple, tightening his hold on her until their bodies were so close they nearly melded into one entity. God, she felt so right in his arms. The agony of it made him ache. And to think she’d been right under his nose while he’d been chalking up one disappointing date after another in hopes of finding someone who’d make him feel whole again.
He’d first met Laney three years ago when Scott and Josh ended up in the same grade-one class. She had a lot of sympathy for a withdrawn little boy who’d lost his mother the previous year. She’d earned Ben’s eternal gratitude and friendship when she’d encouraged Josh to invite Scott to his birthday party. The boys had become fast friends soon afterward.
When Reese died, Ben had felt for her and Josh. He knew exactly what they were going through. He’d offered to help in any way possible...doing the odd repair job, cleaning out gutters, tossing baseballs and scrimmaging hockey with the boys.
He thought nothing of it when she’d offered to bake Scott a spaceship cake for his birthday party in August or that she’d sewn Scott’s Superman costume for Halloween along with Josh’s Spider-Man costume. Or that trips to the movies and museums often became foursomes. It wasn’t until last November when Laney had asked him how long he’d continued to wear his wedding band after Rebecca passed away that he’d realized Laney had reached the point in the grieving process where she was ready to consider the possibility of a new relationship.
The more he contemplated the idea of Laney getting involved with other men, the less he liked it. He’d thought their friendship was the cause of his knee-jerk, big-brother overprotectiveness. But then Christmas arrived and it had suddenly hit him that he loved her. And because he loved her, he was going to be there for her, even though he wanted to strangle Reese Dobson with his bare hands. Ben pressed a light kiss onto her scented hair, kissing his dreams of a life with her goodbye.
Her sobs started to ease. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”
“What are friends for?” he replied. The words penetrated his heart like a dull knife. “Listen, I understand why you want to go to Whistler. I’d move heaven and earth to see Rebecca again. But I’m not going to let you go alone. This sounds too dangerous. I’m sure I can get my mom to watch the boys. What do you say?”
Her hands came to rest on his chest, on the damp spot her tears had made on his faded sweatshirt. Her clear blue eyes glistened with moisture, gratitude and trust as she tilted her head back and gazed up at him. “I say you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Regret and desire formed a thick knot in Ben’s throat. First and foremost, he and Laney would always be friends. “Your safety and Josh’s happiness are very important to me.”
She nodded, but a shadow appeared in her eyes that Ben didn’t know how to interpret. She grasped a handful of his sweatshirt, catching a few of his chest hairs in the process. “I’m going to pay for everything,” she said brusquely.
Ben winced, more from wounded pride than discomfort. He covered her hands with his own and peeled her fingers away from his chest. “We’ll argue about that later.” Even knowing Reese could be alive didn’t diminish the rush of awareness Ben felt eddying through his veins at the joining of their hands. The scarlet blush rising in Laney’s cheeks gave him the faint hope that she felt it, too.
“What’ll we tell the boys and your mother? I don’t want to get Josh’s hopes up by telling him his dad is alive.”
“We’ll tell my mother the truth and we’ll tell the boys you and I are going away for a few days and let them draw their own conclusions. We can explain everything if we come back with Reese.”
Her mouth formed an O that could only stand for a major objection. “You realize the boys will think we’re dating or...s-something,” she spluttered.
Laney just couldn’t say it: sleeping together. It was too close to the most private thoughts she’d been entertaining about him in the last few months. She felt her face grow even hotter and dropped her gaze to Ben’s broad chest. His paint-dotted sweatshirt looked as though it had shrunk to fit his muscular build.
Ben’s strong fingers were locked around her own reassuringly. The symbolic iron professional engineer’s ring he wore on his working hand gently scraped the tender flesh at the base of her fingers. An all-male grin flickered at the corners of his mouth. “I realize they’ll think we’re sleeping together. We can always tell them it didn’t work out and we’re still friends.”
Laney bit her lower lip. That’s exactly what she was afraid of. She knew Ben was offering a perfectly logical explanation for their being away together, but Scott was used to women coming and going in his father’s life. Josh, on the other hand, might interpret their going away together as a sign of a commitment and start building impossible fantasies of Ben becoming his stepdad. Josh had suffered enough loss and disappointment in the last fourteen months.
“Laney, we’ll worry about explanations to the boys after we know whether or not this valentine is a hoax, okay?”
She relented, hoping she was worrying about nothing. “Okay.” If Reese was indeed alive, Josh would have his father back and she would have much bigger issues to deal with, such as how one went about picking up the pieces of a marriage after a fourteen-month separation. Like most couples, she and Reese had experienced their fair share of problems.
Ben let out a ragged sigh. “Now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t you and Josh stay for dinner? Mom’s making lasagna, there’s plenty. Afterward, you and I can talk to her about taking care of the boys and make some plans. Good enough?”
Laney nodded. The prospect of flying out to the West Coast wasn’t nearly as alarming, now that she knew Ben would be accompanying her. But she felt a twinge of guilt. Ben did so much for her and Josh already. Was he going to have to cancel a date for Valentine’s Day or use up some of his vacation time because of her?
He let go of her hands. “Wait here a minute while I clean up my workshop. I’ve just got to throw something in the trash and I’ll walk you upstairs.”
“What are you doing in there anyway?” she asked, rising up on tiptoe to sneak a peek into his private domain. “Your mother and the boys are dying of curiosity.” The smell of paint and sawdust tickled her nose.
“Nothin’ any of you need to know,” he replied gruffly, closing the door in her face.
Laney laughed and wrapped her arms around herself, tempted to inform him that she’d probably learn what the secret was from Scott and Josh anyway. The man had two spies in his midst. Her gaze fell on the valentine and the greeting card that Ben had tossed onto the storage shelf and her smile died. This was a pretty big secret to keep hidden from two inquisitive boys, who’d already concluded the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny didn’t exist. They’d spent from Boxing Day to New Year’s discussing the boot prints Santa had left in front of each of their fireplaces and comparing the handwriting on their Christmas gift tags.
Laney had a sinking feeling her ingenuity was about to be sorely tested.
“MOM, CAN WE HAVE DINNER at Scott’s house more often?” Josh demanded as they trudged over the slippery sidewalk toward home. Ben had offered to drive them, but Laney had refused. They’d already taken up enough of his evening.
“Depends on whether or not we get invited,” Laney murmured. “Are you trying to tell me you liked Georgina’s lasagna better than mine, or that you liked being able to play video games with Scott after supper instead of doing your homework?”
Josh shrugged his shoulders, obviously smart enough to back away from a trick question when it was presented to him. Laney squeezed his mittened hand and suppressed a wave of anxiety about what life held in store for them in the coming week. “We still have homework to do,” she reminded him. “What’s four times twelve?”
“Forty-eight.”
“Nine times seven?”
“Easy. Sixty-three.”
Laney kept him plied with equations until they reached the driveway and the familiar lights of home. She paused in mid-stride, an eerie feeling prickling her scalp. Was it her imagination or were there more lights on than when she’d left? She hadn’t been in Josh’s bedroom all day, and yet the table lamp on his dresser cast a halo of light against the navy miniblinds.
Oh, Lord, was someone in the house?
Reese?
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears like thousands of tiny hooves as emotions of fear, dread, anger and longing stormed deep in her breast. What should she do? Had she been so distracted by Reese’s valentine she’d forgotten she’d turned on the lights?
She gripped Josh’s hand tighter.
“What’s the matter, Mom?” he asked.
“Honey,” she said, dropping her tone to a whisper. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I think someone might be in the house. Do me a favor and go next door to the Munks’ house. Tell them what’s going on, and wait for me.”
Josh yanked sharply on her hand and peered up at her, his pale eyebrows butting together beneath the band of red and green ribbing of his navy toque. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
Laney curled an arm protectively around his shoulders. “No, I’m just going to take a quick peek in the kitchen window before we call the police. Maybe I’m imagining all this. Now hurry.”
Josh didn’t budge an inch. “You’re not going inside, are you?”
Laney struggled to keep her voice from telegraphing her rising panic. “Of course not! I’d never do that.” If it hadn’t been for the possibility that Reese could be in the house, she’d have already banged on the Munks’ front door and demanded they call 911. She placed her hand on the middle of Josh’s back and said firmly, “Go, speedy bullet.”
Seconds ticked by with the excruciating slowness of snowflakes meandering down from the sky as she watched his snowsuited form struggle through the deep drifts blanketing the neighbors’ lawn and dash up the front steps. Laney was sure the Munks were home. Both their cars were squeezed into their post-age-stamp-size driveway and the downstairs lights were on.
Caution and anxiety slowed her steps as she approached the side entrance that she used to carry groceries into the house. Just around the corner was a picture window over the kitchen sink that gave her a view of the robins pulling worms from the lawn in the spring. The house had a fairly open layout with wide doorways. She should be able to see into her small dining room and living area through the window.
Her heart quaked at the possibility of seeing her husband ensconced in his favorite chair, his thick, fair hair barely visible over the pages of the Report on Business section of the Globe and Mail.
But foreboding settled in her bones and froze the anticipation awakening in her heart when she got a close-up view of the boot print on her kitchen door. The door hung slightly ajar, its jamb splintered from the frame.
Laney turned and ran.
Whoever awaited her inside was not her husband.
