two of them had missed out on so much through the years. Years they would never get back. Pangs of sorrow surged through her slim figure. Iris knew only one thing: she wanted all this to end. Tired of the lies, she wanted the truth to be known. Scott Spencer was her son.
* * *
Molly stepped onto her cold bathroom scale and peered at the numbers. One hundred-seventy-three pounds and holding. And holding. And holding. Weight had never been a problem for her until Hope Amelia was born. She couldn’t get this baby weight off! Slipping into her nightgown, Molly switched off the bathroom light and padded off to bed. Well, she wasn’t going to worry about her weight tonight.
She crawled into bed trying to think about anything but the fat surrounding her otherwise thin frame. Tomorrow was another day and she would try to get out for a walk instead of eating lunch.
Lying in bed and listening to the ocean’s roar, Molly imagined how the moonlit sea appeared, its white caps rolling in and out against the shore. The town was quiet now with only the occasional firecracker popping. Fourth of July revelers felt they needed to celebrate the entire month, she realized. The locals didn’t like it. Molly didn’t like it. Some nights Hope Amelia woke up to the explosive bangs and began to scream. Other nights the bangs triggered dreams of fire for Molly. She had been afraid of fire, since she was a little girl. Many of her terrifying dreams involved raging fires. They had come true more than once.
The ring of the telephone interrupted Molly’s thoughts. She jumped, remembering the phone call days before from Leno Stevens. It was nearly ten p.m. Who else would be calling her this late? First deciding to just let the phone ring, Molly then changed her mind, thinking that the constant ringing might awaken the baby.
“Hello,” she said as she placed the telephone to her ear, not all too bravely, she would have to admit.
“Is this Molly Bradford?” a gentleman’s voice came on the line.
“Yes.”
“Hi, Molly. This is Scott Spencer; nephew of Iris Grayson. My aunt told me you wanted me to call you.”
Molly gave a sigh of relief. “Yes, Scott. Thank you for calling.” She’d nearly forgotten she had made the request for Iris’ nephew.
“I’m sorry I’m calling so late. I just returned from a late dinner engagement.”
“That’s all right.”
“Do you want to meet with me tomorrow morning? Aunt Iris said you had some legal questions.”
“Yes. I own The Gull Cottage Motel at the cove. Could you come by here?”
“I can be there at ten,” Scott assured her.
“Thank you, Scott. I’ll see you at ten.” Molly gave a full-blown yawn as she replaced the receiver. She snuggled deep into the covers. Scott had a nice sounding voice. She looked forward to meeting him.
It took only minutes for the fuzzy sleep to invade her consciousness, and a vision of roaring flames to rush into Molly’s mind. The flames grew higher, making her feel the tremendous heat they emitted. There came a point when Molly wasn’t sure if this was a dream or if it was real, and she was riveted with fear. She saw the orange and red fire spiking out of control, coming ever closer.
Molly sprang awake, her eyes darting open. The bedroom was dark and quiet. All was safe in her world.
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