lifted, and she was once again alone in her own miserable little universe.
She raised her head, looking at them. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do this again. Thank God it’s the weekend.”
Micah spoke. “Raising kids is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Somehow you have to protect them without being overprotective. You need to warn them about dangers without making them scared of their own shadows. Connie, Sophie was just being a kid. They feel safer than they probably should, but you shouldn’t want to take that away from them.”
“I don’t want to. It’s just that...a few days ago she came through that door terrified because some stranger had tried to talk to her and called her by name. And then today...”
“Today the threat is in the past,” Ethan said.
“Yeah,” Micah agreed. “Eons ago in her mind. A week is a long time when you’re seven. The whole world changes. So maybe what she did today was just some healthy hijinks. Kicking up the traces a bit. The point is, she’s okay, and we’ll watch more closely.”
Connie nodded and managed a smile. “Sorry, guys. I’m not usually such a mess.”
“You’re not usually worried about your daughter.” Micah stood, stretching a bit. “I need to get back to my family. You’ll be okay with Ethan, Connie.”
“I know.”
Micah smiled. “Even bad things can sometimes bring about good.”
And with that enigmatic statement, he walked out of the house.
Connie looked at Ethan. “Would you mind moving to the living room? I can hear Sophie better from there.”
“Not a problem.”
Just then the girl’s voice trailed down the stairway as she giggled on the phone.
Golden evening light filled the room, so Connie didn’t turn on any lamps. She sat on the sofa, and to her surprise, Ethan did, too. There was still plenty of room between them, but it felt more intimate than before. And she liked it.
That liking frightened her, raising images from the grave of her past. Leo hitting her, then apologizing and wanting to make love. Always, always, like some sick twisted game. How many times had she fallen for that?
Too many.
She began curling in on herself, as if in anticipation of an attack. She could feel it in every muscle and struggled to let go of it.
“Am I too close?” Ethan suddenly asked.
She nearly jumped as she looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I seem to be making you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not you.”
He nodded. Then, after the briefest pause, he said, “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Why? I show you my scars and you show me yours?” The words sounded so bitter that shock shook Connie. “I’m sorry...”
“It’s okay,” he said, and everything in his tone said it was. “It’s okay. I’m still reacting to threats that aren’t there. I know what it’s like.”
“Yeah. I guess you do.”
“It’s like your brain gets rewired.”
She nodded, still watching him in the golden glow.
“It’s hard to turn it back around. When I came back on leave from Iraq, I couldn’t drive. I absolutely panicked for a while, thinking every oncoming or parked car might be a bomb.”
“That must have been awful.”
“It was crazy. I knew it wasn’t true, but I couldn’t restrain the learned response.” He shook his head a little, as if trying to drive away an exasperating bug. “I guess everything in life changes you somehow.”
“So it seems.”
“I still can’t drive.” He said it flatly, but even that tone spoke volumes to her. “Well, I can if I have to, but it’s an awful lot of effort. More than it’s worth most of the time. That’s why you caught me hitchhiking.”
“I can understand that.” And she could. Maybe not in his precise terms, but in her own... Yeah, she could understand.
But the curling inward wouldn’t stop, and finally words burst out of her. “Sophie is the best thing in my life,” she said, tears starting to run down her cheeks. “My God, if something happened to her...”
He moved closer, drawing her into a gentle embrace, rocking her as if he knew how soothing that motion could be. “Nothing’s going to happen,” he murmured. “We’ll take care of her.”
The tears flowed silently, as if she couldn’t release the pain and terror enough to sob. Water seeping over a dam that held back the huge lake of terrible things that had never ceased to haunt her.
She felt guilty. The man holding her had been through far worse. Endured far worse. That thing about not being able to drive a car was only the tip of his iceberg, and she knew it. Yet he had the strength to try to protect her daughter. To hold her and offer comfort.
In the midst of it all, she realized what a crabbed soul she had become.
“My God,” she said, pulling away and hunting for the box of tissues she always kept on the end table. Finding it by feel, she pulled out a wad and scrubbed her face.
“What?” he asked.
“Sophie... She’s never known her father. It’s like with you. I took her away from him and made sure he couldn’t even see her on supervised visitation. What if she’s not as understanding as you? What if she grows up to hate me for that?”
Several heartbeats passed before he answered. He seemed to be choosing his words with care. “Do you think,” he asked slowly, “that it would have been good for her to visit her father in prison? Good for her to ask questions about it at such a young age?”
“God! How did you know about Leo going to prison?”
“Micah.” He touched her shoulder briefly. Then he moved back to his end of the couch, giving her space.
She needed that space, and she hated needing it. She wanted the comfort he offered, yet it terrified her. Finally she asked the most dreaded question. “Did you ever hate your mother for what she did? Ever? Did you ever resent your father for not knowing?”
“I’m human,” he said. “I felt some ugly things, sure. Mostly when I was younger. As I grew older, I understood better. My mother used to have a saying. It helps.”
“And that was?”
“The secret to happiness is wanting what you have, not what you wish you had.”
Connie nodded, wiping her face again. “That’s good advice.”
“Not
