followed her. “It’s nothing.”
“I’ll sit in my chair and wait.” Norma sank into her recliner. “If I holler, you get out of the house. I don’t want him beating on you again.”
How many times had she heard those words? More than she wanted to remember. In that moment she realized her mother had spent most of her life listening for the sound of her husband’s truck. No wonder she was losing her mind. Without any happiness, the mind had found its own kind of peace.
After putting ham and cheese back into the refrigerator, she slammed the door just a little too hard. Why did life have to be like this? As a kid she used to dream of a happy family with loving parents. She’d tell her dad about her day and he’d smile and encourage her. Reality was far removed from the fantasy. But when their grandmother had been alive, their life had been almost normal. Their dad had supper with them every night and he didn’t drink. At least not in Grandmother’s presence.
After her death, life became a nightmare. Her father lost his job, and he was angry all the time. The drinking, arguing and fighting started. Life was never the same again.
She cleaned the kitchen counter with a deep sigh. There had to be happy families somewhere. Maybe they only existed beyond the clouds in Hilary’s mural.
To stop the depressing thoughts she went to take a bath. Afterward, she slipped on clean shorts and a tank top. She hadn’t brought many clothes, and it was a good thing Hilary had the washing machine. After putting a load on to wash, she checked on her mother. She was sound asleep in her chair. At peace.
She went outside and sat on the porch, swinging her legs off the side the way she had as a child. It was after seven and Carson hadn’t come by or called. She’d wait until after eight and take it from there. She hadn’t called Blake today, and she’d wait on that, too. Right now her thoughts were on her child. Carson would come, she kept telling herself. He’d have news. But they’d parted on an angry note, so she shouldn’t expect much. Still, she kept hoping.
The white constable car turned into the driveway and her heart raced. He was here. She ran her sweaty palms down her bare thighs and waited.
He strolled toward her, and there was something in the way he moved. Was it dejection? Despair? She couldn’t decide. Either way, it wasn’t good.
“Good evening, Ms. Brooks,” he said, his voice cordial yet hesitant.
“Good evening,” she replied. “Have you talked to your father?” The words rushed out before she could stop them.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He admits to taking your baby.”
Her heart skyrocketed. She hadn’t expected Asa to admit that so easily. “Oh” slipped from her throat.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned.
“Why?”
“He’s never going to tell you where that baby is.”
“What?” She was confused.
“Revenge, Ms. Brooks. The ultimate revenge. In his mind you took Jared from him, and in return he took your child. And since he can’t get Jared back, you’re not getting your child back, either. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way Asa is.”
Her hands curled into fists. “How can he be that evil?”
“Like I said, I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but I’ve done what you asked. It’s out of my hands now. Call your lawyer and let him do what he can, but nothing on this earth will make Asa tell his secret. I know him well enough to know that.”
“It’s illegal to steal someone’s baby,” she said with barely controlled anger.
“Yes, and Asa will be arrested because he freely admits to everything, but in his condition very little will be done. He’ll probably be put into a home.”
She fought the tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t understand any of this. Asa was so mean to Jared, and all he wanted to do was get away from his father. Now he’s acting like Jared was a son he loved dearly.”
“In his heart I guess he did.”
“He doesn’t have a heart,” she spat. “How can he keep a child from its mother? Jared’s child!”
Carson shrugged. “I don’t profess to understand my father. He’s all the things you say he is, but that’s not going to change a thing. He will never tell you what happened. That secret will die with him. I’m sorry for what he put you through, but for me this is over. There’s nothing else I can do.”
She stood on unsteady legs. “It will never be over for me, Mr. Corbett.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you? Do you know what it’s like to have your baby forcefully taken from you? Do you know what it’s like to be in fear of your very life? Do you...?” Tears clogged her throat, and she had to stop.
He stepped forward as if to console her.
She flung out her arms. “Do not touch me. Ever.”
“Ms. Bro...”
Not able to take any more, she turned and ran into the house. Tears ran from her eyes, and her body shook violently. They would not break her. She would not give in to the pain. She sank onto the floor in the bedroom and stared at Hilary’s clouds and drifted away to a better place.
* * *
WHEN CARSON WAS in Afghanistan, he’d often wondered what it would feel like to be hit by a sniper’s bullet. Now he knew. It had to be similar to the paralyzing fear that controlled his body and his mind. And touched his soul.
After Jared’s and Beth’s deaths, he’d felt a deep sadness and didn’t know how he was going to go on without them. They were a big part of his world and adjusting to a new life wasn’t easy, but he had his kids. Jena had nothing.
Somehow he felt responsible for her pain because he’d delivered the bad news. That hopeless look on her face got to him, and he just wanted to comfort her in some way, but there was no comfort in the knowledge she would never see her child.
He got into his car, cursing his father’s stubbornness and life’s cruelty. Maybe she could move on now and find happiness. That was, after Asa was arrested. Maybe that would bring her some peace. For him it would be another nightmare to get through.
He and Beth had vowed to have a happy, loving family, and they had for a while. They were ecstatic when they found out she was pregnant with Trey. In her sixth month, they’d decided it would be better if she came home to Willow Creek to have the baby.
Beth had called her mother, who’d said it wasn’t a good time to come home. After many years of marriage, Connie and Don Kirby were getting a divorce. Beth had packed and gone home anyway, trying to save her parents’ marriage. It hadn’t worked. Her father had already moved out, and her mother was planning to relocate to Maine to be with a truck driver she’d met at Mabel’s Café.
Beth
