tails knotted around her tiny waste. Her black hair had started to come loose from a ponytail set high on her head.
Dan stepped forward, reached up across the three steps to offer his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Lena’s been looking forward to this.” Then he smiled. “Two fairly strong arms here, ready to pitch in. You can’t turn me down.”
She should have laughed, but all he saw was the flutter of a smile. “I think...”
Whatever she thought was lost as Lena came through the door behind her. Lena was in her midfifties, a little rounded by her years, with dark brown hair that was showing a lot of gray. Her eyes were a kindly brown. She, too, wore jeans and a man’s tan work shirt.
“Dan! You arrived just in time. We got all the small stuff out, but now we’ve got Krystal’s bed and some other big pieces. The three of us ought to be able to do it.”
“I can call for more help if we need it,” Dan assured her. “But where are you putting everything?”
Lena put her hands on her hips, a wry expression on her face. “That is a problem we’ll deal with later.”
Vicki looked at her aunt. “I could get rid of some of these things.”
Lena shook her head firmly. “Nothing that’s a comfort to Krystal or you is going anywhere. If we need room, I can easily get rid of some of my junk. God knows, most of it is far older than I am. Besides, you’ll both sleep better in your own beds, and I like that sofa you brought. Never had a recliner before.”
Dan paused. “You two moved a sofa?”
Lena laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “Not yet. I was waiting for you to get home.”
He joined her laughter, but noticed that while Vicki smiled, she didn’t laugh with them. Still grieving, he supposed, and now a huge move on top of everything. He felt genuine sympathy for her, and for the little girl, who looked utterly lost at the moment.
He wished he could gather them both in a hug, but knew the urge was ridiculous. He was a stranger to them, and he sure couldn’t do anything to ease the pain of losing a husband and father.
He decided the best thing to do was focus on the moving.
“Let me see what’s left in the truck,” he said. “Then I’ll know if I need to call for some help. And, Lena? Maybe you could show me where you want the big pieces?”
* * *
Dan called some friends, and soon there was a swirl of men moving from the truck into the house and back again. Vicki sort of got pushed to one side as Lena supervised the unloading. Occasionally her aunt questioned her about where she wanted something, but mostly Vicki just sat with Krystal curled against her side, and watched the activity.
Had she really brought so much with her? Apparently so. She felt a twinge of guilt for dumping so much on her aunt, but she’d spent a great deal of time beforehand selling things and giving them away.
Yet she had to bring things that were important to Krystal, or that would become important to her later. Her father’s awards. All the photographs. Her toys. Krystal had been allowed to help with the decisions, and made it clear what was to come with them.
Nor was Vicki entirely blameless. There were some items she just couldn’t let go of, either. Memories of Hal had attached themselves everywhere, and parting with some of them had been downright painful.
Maybe she should have put stuff in a storage room, but she had discovered she wasn’t ready to make that big a break yet herself. Struggling to move forward with her life had meant moving to a new place, away from the constant attentions of Hal’s colleagues and their spouses, who had gone out of their way to make sure she always had someone available, that she was left out of nothing they did. Even Krystal had been included in their caring, as various people from the department took her on outings, or just made themselves available.
At some point it had hit her: she could continue to live as Hal’s widow, surrounded by his well-meaning friends, which made it impossible for her to move on. Or she could take her aunt’s repeated offers and just do it.
Vicki hoped she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.
She worried about Krystal, who seemed to be adjusting to her father’s absence, but didn’t appear to understand he would never come home. Vicki worried that this move might stress the girl even more. Now she had lost every single thing that was familiar except for what they had brought with them.
Maybe Vicki’s decision had been selfish.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, honey?”
“I sucked my thumb. The man saw me.”
Vicki felt her eyes prickle with tears she couldn’t allow herself to shed. Gathering her daughter onto her lap, she hugged her tight. “That’s okay, honey. When you’re ready to stop doing it, you will.”
Krystal had stopped sucking her thumb by eighteen months of age. The habit had returned within days of her father’s death. Vicki wasn’t going to give her a hard time about comforting herself.
“But I’m a big girl,” Krys said. “Big girls don’t suck their thumbs.”
“Who told you that?”
“Jenny.”
Jenny had been a friend at preschool. “Well, that’s not always true, Krys. Some grown-ups still do it.”
Krystal stirred and looked up. “So I’m still a big girl?”
“You’re a wonderful big girl.”
“Aunt Lena’s house smells funny.”
“She uses sachets. We’ll get used to it.”
Krystal sighed, closed her eyes and melted into Vicki. A precious moment.
Vicki’s gaze strayed to the men who were unloading her life, and saw they were about finished. She knew Dan Casey was a deputy, because Lena had mentioned him occasionally over the years. A good neighbor, Lena had judged him.
He was certainly being a good neighbor now. Vicki watched him and three other men carry the recliner sofa across the ramp and into the house. A good-looking man, maybe getting near forty, although she couldn’t be sure. He definitely looked older than Hal, and Hal had been thirty-three, just a year older than Vicki.
Cops, she thought. Hal’s friends had helped her load, and now Dan and his friends were helping unload. No escape, but at least these cops hadn’t been her husband’s friends.
Suddenly she realized he was looking at her. Dark hair, gray eyes, very fit. He stepped over.
“Well,” he said, “Lena’s house is packed. We’ll be back to move some stuff to her basement or garage once she makes up her mind what she wants to do with it. But listen, I’m going out to get dinner for everyone. Is there anything Krystal doesn’t like to eat?”
“She’s not picky.” Not anymore. She’d outgrown that stage a while back.
