She left, and some of the light seemed to leave the room with her.
* * *
EVE WAITED AT the school to pick up Nick. It was two miles to her house and she’d resisted his pleas to ride his bike. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
She needed the time to think. She was still unsettled by the meeting with Joshua Manning. Something slammed into her each time they met. She felt tongue-tied and unsure, and she hated that feeling. She certainly didn’t understand why she’d felt compelled to go into the diner when she’d seen Josh Manning inside.
Or why she’d lied when she went in.... She hadn’t meant to apologize at all, but she’d been drawn inside like metal to a magnet. And then she’d just uttered the first thing that came to her mind. Stupid.
She told herself it was just to prove to herself that the attraction in the morning was her imagination. Or something fleeting.
It hadn’t been, and that terrified her.
The sound of yelling interrupted her as kids poured through the school doors. Nick came running when he saw Miss Mollie—who could miss the old pickup?—and climbed in next to her.
“Got an A on my essay,” he said with a relieved grin. “That means a dollar, right?”
“That’s for an A on a report card,” she replied, suddenly cheery that the love of her life was here. It had been a long time—more than four years to be exact—since he had stood beside her as his father was buried.
She put her arm around him and kissed the top of his head. She wanted to do more. She wanted to hug him with all the strength she had, but she knew he wouldn’t like that. Not here.
She started the car and tried to relax. Just having Nick next to her made her feel better. Cleared her mind. He was everything that was important. And he was so like his father. Considerate, likable and always ready for a challenge.
She sighed, listening to Nick chatter about the essay. It had been about his father, and at first he had been reluctant to write it. But once he’d started he’d written like a whirlwind. He hadn’t let her read it, although she usually helped with homework.
“Can I read it when we get home?” she asked.
He went silent for a moment, then nodded.
“I know you didn’t want me to read it before you turned it in.”
“’Cause I was afraid it wasn’t good enough.”
“And your teacher said it was?”
He nodded again.
Her heart nearly burst with love for him, and regret that he’d lost the father he loved so much. It was so wrong. So unexpected. A tear slipped down her face and she rubbed it away, relieved that Nick was looking in the other direction.
They were home in a few moments. They lived two miles from the heart of town and one mile from the lake. She and Russ had saved during the first years of their marriage, then bought a five-acre piece of land inside the city limits. Russ and his buddies had built a ranch house and barn, and she still had the two horses they’d bought together. She also boarded Stephanie’s horse, which paid for her many vet bills.
A cacophony came from the house as Nick jumped out of the truck and waited impatiently as she unlocked the door. Nick opened it, and four dogs, barking madly, rushed out.
Braveheart, a mismatched pit-bull mix, hung back as usual. Badly scarred and terrified of people, he’d been found half-dead alongside the road. Nick had named him Braveheart because he thought the encouragement might help cure his fear.
Miss Marple—the part beagle and who knew what else—charged to the front. Eve couldn’t help but grin at Nick’s naming processes. Miss Marple was so named because she was always on the prowl for a misplaced sock. She, too, had been found along the road, but, unlike Braveheart, she didn’t lack self-confidence. Captain Hook, a three-legged Chihuahua mix, added her high, piercing voice. Fancy, who was anything but Fancy, was probably the plainest dog Eve had ever seen, but she was also the most loving. Inside was Dizzy, a coon cat that spent his time chasing his tail.
Nick had named them all after much thought, and it said much about him the way he turned their weaknesses into strengths. Her son had been boisterous and curious and active until his father died. Then he climbed inside himself, but now he seemed to be emerging again. She watched as he gave each dog a moment of attention, then ran to the barn, the troop of dogs following him.
Lord, but he filled her with joy. She ached with it. She wanted to hold him so tight nothing could ever harm him. She knew how fragile life was. Russell had been all strength one day, and the next...
It didn’t bear thinking about. Watching the dogs following Nick as if he was the Pied Piper reminded her that she hadn’t seen the dog at Joshua Manning’s home, the one that had Marilyn so upset. She suspected Marilyn used the dog only as an excuse to learn more about her neighbor. To tell the truth, once Josh Manning had mentioned voice control, she’d relaxed. She hadn’t seen an ill-treated dog on voice control. And, truth be told, as rude as Josh Manning had been, she hadn’t sensed meanness in him.
Who was he? If she was right about him being a soldier, it followed that he wouldn’t want to talk about his experiences. But he seemed to carry it to the extreme. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe he’d met Dave Hannity somewhere else. Or, as Tom had surmised, maybe he was a relative.
She wished she could remember more about Dave Hannity. His family had spent summers at their cabin on the lake. She’d met him at the annual Fourth of July picnic and other summer events for several years. He’d been a swimmer and runner, and Russ had known him better than she.
Now David, too, was dead, apparently in the service of his country.
They had lost other young residents in Iraq and Afghanistan. Too many for a small town, but then the military attracted small-town kids. There weren’t many other opportunities.
As for Mr. Manning and Dave Hannity, maybe Tom would have some answers tomorrow, and she could reassure Manning’s neighbors.
His image sprung into her mind again. His face was hard, the angles stark. It was...more interesting than handsome. There was a presence about him, an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude that perversely intrigued her.
“Mom, I’m hungry.” She hadn’t seen Nick approach from the back of the barn. Again he was followed by his four little tagalongs. She looked at him and hoped he would never have to go to war. She hugged him—hard—until he wriggled free. She didn’t want to let him go. She never wanted to let him go. She wanted to protect him against grief and loss and disappointments.
He’d already had too many.
And, she suspected, so had Joshua Manning.
CHAPTER FOUR
JOSH WOKE WITH a start. Sunlight was streaming though his windows.
He stretched and glanced at the clock. A little after 0700 hours. It was the first time in days that he’d slept more than four hours without the nightmare. Or night sweats.
But
