kitchen to retrieve cereal and organic pears she had prepared that morning—which now seemed like years ago. By the time she returned, Janine had lifted the baby out of her chair and was walking the length of the small living room, murmuring softly.
“She likes you,” Harmony said. “She’s going to love having you here.”
“I can’t stay. I wouldn’t have come at all, but I was afraid you might hear about the fire and be absolutely beside yourself.”
“You could have called.”
“No, I thought you needed to see me, to be sure it wasn’t some sort of hoax.”
“I think you needed to see us.”
Janine fell silent.
“Dad hasn’t traced me here yet,” Harmony said. “And I’ve been gone for years.”
“Your dad never had as much motivation as he does now. Now he’s going to be looking for both of us, and looking hard.”
“That’s part of why you didn’t leave before, isn’t it? Because you were afraid he would double his efforts to search for me as a way to find you.”
Janine didn’t deny it. “He will. Which is why I have to leave in the morning.” She seemed to hesitate; then, as she handed Lottie to Harmony, her voice grew softer.
“He’ll think I’ve traveled west.”
“West? Why?”
“That was part of the plan. Things were in place.”
“You mean that’s what you planned? To go west?”
“No, but he’ll think that’s what I did.”
Harmony settled Lottie in her high chair and pulled a chair up beside her. She gave the baby a plastic spoon to play with as she fed her because she was in no mood to let Lottie fling food all over the living room.
The details of Janine’s escape niggled at her, but compared to her mother’s future, the past seemed unimportant.
“If he has good reason to think you’ve gone west, then you can stay here. Has he ever said anything to make you think he knows I’m in North Carolina?”
“It’s no good, honey. I can’t risk it. If he does find you, God forbid, I don’t think he’ll hurt you if I’m not with you. You’re settled here. He knows you have friends who could come forward to protect you. If he shows up you can even tell him the truth, that I was here but I wouldn’t tell you where I was headed. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it—”
“It’s not going to come to that, because you’re going to stay with me in Asheville. Or if you absolutely refuse, then I’m going with you. Wherever you go.”
“You can’t. The only good thing about you leaving home was that I didn’t have to be afraid for both of us anymore. I can’t live that way again, being afraid all the time that he’ll show up one day and harm us both, and maybe the baby, too.”
“Does he know about the baby?”
“He’s never said anything.”
Harmony thought that answer was as good as a no, because when her father was angry, everything came out. If he’d learned about Lottie, he would have flung the baby’s birth at her mother and blamed her for not raising Harmony to be chaste.
“This is North Carolina. Rex Stoddard has no friends here, no link to the community. We’ll talk to the sheriff and ask how we can best protect ourselves.”
“We might as well call your dad and give him our address. We can’t involve the authorities. They keep records. Records can be located.” Janine came to stand beside her daughter. “That’s what I mean, honey. Those kinds of slipups are too common when more than one person is involved.”
Harmony fed Lottie another spoonful of cereal, then swiveled to face her mother. “Hasn’t he run your life long enough? Are we going to spend the rest of our days letting Rex Stoddard make all our decisions? I’m kind of out of the habit, and frankly, I’m a lot happier. Even if I know he’s still a threat, I’m willing to take my chances.”
Janine’s exhaustion was showing, her mouth drooping, her eyes puffy. “I would give almost anything to change things, but not your safety.”
Harmony could feel her mother slipping away again, and she wasn’t willing to let her. “Then you and Lottie and I will take new names, get new documents. Somebody will help with that. We’ll move to a big city where everybody’s anonymous. You can take care of her while I work.”
“No, you aren’t going to give this up.” Janine lifted a hand to indicate everything around them. “I won’t allow that. There are ways we can stay in touch. Then, after time passes, maybe if things have improved or changed significantly, we can see each other again. Find a place to meet and plan carefully.”
“You’re just going to disappear, aren’t you? Like that.” Harmony snapped her fingers. “And you think that will make things okay? That now I won’t be worried every minute? That I won’t lose sleep at night picturing you just a step ahead of him? Or dead by his hand and me not knowing?”
“Honey, I—”
“No! You didn’t think this through. You’re back in my life, and no matter what you do or where you go, you can’t change what you’ve already done.” She handed a piece of whole wheat toast to Lottie and stood. “I knew what you were facing before. Do you think I ever forgot for one moment what you were going through every day back in Topeka? But I thought it was your choice, that you just didn’t have the strength to get out or maybe even the desire. Now I know you do.”
“I can’t stay here. You don’t have enough room. I know you don’t make enough money to support us both, and what hope do I have of finding a job way out here? You don’t need me for child care. I think you’ve managed that just fine. I have no place here, and it’s dangerous.”
“We’ll find a way.” Harmony nodded as she spoke. “Just tell me you’re willing to stop running. That we can stand together now, the way we used to. Tell me the mother I love, the one who raised me to be strong despite everything going on around me, is still in there. The mother who accidentally set our house on fire and still managed to escape. The one who traced me here and came to make sure I knew she was okay.”
“Honey—”
Harmony wouldn’t let her finish. She rested her arms on her mother’s shoulders. “Tell me that mother’s going to stay here and start a whole new life. You can change your name and the color of your hair, but please don’t let that mother escape again. Promise me you won’t.”
Taylor Martin braked in the driveway of the Reynolds Farm and wished she could turn the car around and take Maddie home, where her daughter could pout and complain out of earshot. She was fairly certain that not having an audience wouldn’t actually stop Maddie—there was always a girlfriend at the end of the phone line to sympathize—but better a
