to put things in perspective.
Her car had been stolen. That was nothing compared to what she’d been through over the last twelve months. If she didn’t get her car back, she’d collect the insurance and buy another one.
And the pervert who stole it was likely several counties away by now, using her cash to provide his next high.
They passed the Mustang Run city-limits sign, and Kelly turned so that she could check on Jaci, though the rhythmic sounds of her breathing were proof she was still asleep. The doll she carried everywhere was clutched to her chest.
“If I remember right, the house is only a few miles from here,” Kelly said. “Could we stop by there on the way to the motel? After the sheriff’s diatribe on the condition it’s in, I’d just like a little advance warning of what I have to face in the morning.”
“Sure. Where do I turn?”
“Wait. I have the address plugged into my phone’s GPS system.” She looked it up and fed him the directions. In less than five minutes, they turned off on a blacktop road. Two minutes more and they passed the old Baptist church she remembered from the few times she’d visited her grandmother.
“We should be just about there. You’ll have to watch for the drive. The house may be hard to see in the dark.”
Kelly’s hands grew clammy as Wyatt pulled into the driveway. Before her car was stolen, she had been excited about moving into the house. She needed a place with continuity and history and a tie to the grandmother she’d loved but never really gotten to know.
Unlike her mother, Kelly found the idea of a small town appealing, especially at this point in her life. She wanted a quiet, safe town where she could take Jaci to the park and let her play in the yard.
Still, an unreasonable dread tightened her chest as beams of illumination from Wyatt’s headlights disbanded the shadows. And then she spied the latest disaster.
Kelly jumped out of the truck the second it stopped and stamped to the steps for a closer look. A huge branch of the oak tree McGuire had mentioned had crashed through the roof of the house.
Chimney bricks and ripped shingles were scattered about the porch and the weed-filled flower bed. Turning away, she was lashed at by a gust of wind that whipped her hair into her eyes and mouth.
She kicked at a pile of shingles and then jumped back with a squeal when a giant tarantula crawled away from the debris.
“The spider’s harmless,” Wyatt said.
“That doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
Kelly clenched her teeth and tried to calm her wrath. She had little success, but she did lower her voice so that she wouldn’t wake Jaci.
“I was prepared for a few loose shutters and peeling paint, not a hole in my roof that a helicopter could fly through.”
That was a slight exaggeration, but nonetheless the house was totally unlivable. And she had a van full of furniture that had been in storage for a year arriving in the morning.
“How can anyone have the kind of luck I’ve had today?” Her words were clipped. Her insides were positively shaking.
“I’d say you’ve had at least one stroke of good luck.”
“I must have blinked during that stroke.”
“That car trouble that delayed you may have saved you and Jaci from serious injury when that tree fell.”
She hadn’t thought of that. It did little to ease her frustration.
“I can get my flashlight from the truck and check out the damage inside, but you won’t be able to determine the full extent of the destruction until daylight.”
“Don’t bother with checking the damage. I’ve seen enough of the house and Mustang Run. I’d just get in my car and keep driving, except that I don’t have a car.”
Her voice broke and her eyes burned with salty tears. One escaped from the corner of her right eye and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. She’d lived though a year of hell, without once allowing herself to whimper or go berserk. She wouldn’t break now. She was stronger than that.
Wyatt stepped closer and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world,” he said. “It just seems like it.”
“Don’t be nice,” she said. “I can’t take nice.” The tears started to flow and she couldn’t stop them.
She didn’t say a word. Neither did Wyatt. He just held her until her insides stopped shaking and the tears ran dry.
“I’m not usually like this,” she said, finally pulling away.
“Good. I’d hate to have to wear a bib every time we were together to keep my shirts dry.”
As usual, he kept the moment light. No doubt he didn’t want her to read too much into his supplying broad shoulders for her to cry on. Kelly backed away from the mortally wounded house. “Let’s get out of here. Just drop me off at the motel and you can escape before the black cloud over me sucks you into its vacuity too.”
“Actually I won’t be dropping you off. I’ll be staying.” She bristled and the air rushed from her lungs. If he thought holding her while she cried entitled him to—
“Not in your room,” he said quickly, before she had the chance to make a fool of herself. “And before you get all bent out of shape, my decision to stay at the motel has nothing to do with you.”
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