you sure?”
“Positive. Chloe, you’re a good helper. Would you straighten the books so the lid will fit on the tub?” Once the child’s attention was engaged, Amy took Brandy aside. “I need to ask you about Chloe’s new friend.”
“Which new friend?”
“The invisible one. She’s been talking to him a lot lately. I was wondering how you want me to handle the situation?”
Brandy was unaware of any situation in need of handling. “This is the first I’ve heard of an invisible friend.”
“Chloe spends a lot of time playing alone instead of interacting with the other kids. She carries on whole conversations with an imaginary playmate.” Amy lowered her voice. “Today I heard her saying she didn’t need his help. Said she had kindergarten under control. She has a great vocabulary, by the way.”
“Yes, I know.” Pride replaced worry. “She tested out at the ninth-grade level in receptive and seventh-grade in expressive. Her IQ is above average, too. Did you know she taught herself to read last year using two packs of sight cards and a stack of Dr. Seuss books?”
“She’s an incredible little girl.”
“She’s very creative. I’m sure the pretend playmate is just another figment of her imagination,” Brandy suggested.
“I learned in my child psychology class that the creation of an imaginary world isolates a child from the real one. It can be the sign of a deeper problem.”
“Really?” Brandy’s empty stomach clenched with worry. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“She got a little upset today. I overheard her telling her ‘friend’ to go away, which might mean something. She said school was a kid’s job, and if he kept hanging around he would get her fired.”
Brandy winced. Chloe knew all about that. Brandy had lost two jobs because of childcare conflicts. “Thank you for sharing your concerns, Amy. I appreciate the time and attention you give Chloe.”
“She’s a joy. I hope I’m not out of line, but I talked to Megan, the other caregiver, and she didn’t know what to do, either.”
Brandy patted the girl’s arm. “You’re not out of line. Chloe is obviously having more trouble adjusting to the move than I thought. Thanks for letting me know.”
Amy nodded. “New town. New house. New school. Lots of changes.”
“The pace was much slower back home. Now she has to get up early for before-school care, spend all day in the gifted-and-talented kindergarten and stay for after-school care, too.”
“I can so identify. I have three part-time jobs and a full course load at Odessa College. Okay for me, but stressful for a five-year-old.”
Doubt flooded Brandy’s stomach with a tsunami acid wave. Had she traumatized Chloe by abandoning their familiar world to start over in a strange city? She’d made hard choices recently. What if they had been the wrong ones?
Her boss, Mr. Futterman, didn’t think a woman with a child could devote a hundred percent of her energy to work. Naively she had hoped a career with real earning potential would be her ticket out of the nickel-and-dime job world, but she’d had another reason for putting herself through paralegal school.
She wanted to accomplish something worthwhile. After years as a deadbeat dad, her ex-husband had finally gotten his act together. He’d been elected county sheriff back home and now paid child support regularly. He’d fallen hard for the local doctor and was happily married. She didn’t begrudge Joe his newfound contentment. She was happy for him. Everyone should be lucky enough to find true love once in a lifetime.
Joe’s success had inspired her to do more. To be more. His marriage to Mallory Peterson had given her hope. Maybe there was a special person in the world for her, too.
“Mommy?” Chloe tugged on her sleeve. “Can we go?”
Brandy took her daughter’s small hand. “I won’t be late again, Amy. Thank you for bringing the ‘situation’ to my attention.”
Brandy stopped by the ATM to get money for the dry cleaning and gas. As she placed the bills in her purse, a familiar white pickup truck turned the corner and caught her attention. She couldn’t see the driver’s face, but the wide shoulders were unmistakable. So was the flaming logo on the door.
Hotspur Well Control.
Chloe piped up from the back seat. “I’m hot.”
“I know, baby. The air conditioner stopped working.”
“How come?”
“Just old, I guess.”
“As old as me?”
Brandy laughed. “Much older than you.” Weird. Their paths had crossed again. Glimpsing him revved up all the emotions she’d suppressed, but she tried not to think about him while picking up her clothes at the cleaners. Like the dreams that haunted her, their encounter was hard to forget. She’d felt a sense of portent at his touch. What if she hadn’t seen the last of him? She laughed. Chloe wasn’t the only one with an overactive imagination. Seeing the sexy stranger again was a coincidence. Nothing more.
A few minutes later at the gas station, she had to wonder. She parked alongside an available pump just as the same white pickup pulled away from the one next to her. The driver stopped at the street, his large, competent hands resting on the wheel, and watched for a break in traffic.
Hotspur Well Control again. Who was stalking whom here? She started pumping gas but stared in the tinted driver’s side window over the top of her car. The man in the black Stetson startled her by turning around and staring back. He lowered his sunglasses for a better look, but the traffic cleared, another motorist honked and he drove away.
It wasn’t so strange to run into the same guy three times in one afternoon. Awareness was like that. When she’d first become pregnant, she’d noticed other pregnant women everywhere she went. Driving a purple car made her notice other purple cars. Nothing weird about that. Just human nature.
The sun was sinking fast by the time Brandy finished her errands and headed home. The day had lasted too long, and Supermom was super tired. Poor little Chloe had to be worn-out too.
“You’re awfully quiet, punkin.” Brandy glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at her daughter strapped into a booster seat, her blond bangs plastered to her forehead by baby sweat. “Everything all right?”
“Yep. Just thinking.”
Like mother, like daughter. “When you get the problems of the universe sorted out, will you let me know?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
She shouldn’t worry. Chloe was deeper than most children her age, more sensitive. All kids had active imaginations. An invisible playmate was her daughter’s way of coping with the new stressors in her life. They’d have a nice talk over dinner, and she’d make sure Chloe understood the difference between real and imaginary.
Tonight she would
