Twilight. Sherryl Woods
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overnight.”
“Yes,” she said. “The sooner the better.” Changing the subject, she asked, “What time will you be here tomorrow?” Only after she’d asked did she wonder if she’d sounded too anxious to escape.
“Two-thirty, maybe three.”
“Or maybe later,” she said, imagining him to be the kind of man who lost all track of time.
“I said two-thirty or three,” he corrected. “That’s what I meant.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
He regarded her with a direct look that commanded her attention. Only when he had it, did he say, “Dana, I know you don’t want to trust me, not even in so small a detail, but I mean what I say. You’ll see.”
“It’s not important.”
“I think it is. Would you like me to come in with you?”
She almost smiled at that. “To chase away the ghosts?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“No,” she said too quickly. She didn’t want him inside again, in Ken’s space. He was the kind of man who could far too quickly overshadow memories. They would fade fast enough without the competition. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She left the car in a rush, then hurried up the front walk. She fumbled the key in the lock and then she was inside. She closed the door quickly behind her, blocking out the view of Rick Sanchez still sitting in her driveway, his gaze worried as he stared after her.
She didn’t want his worry or his concern. The only thing she wanted from Rick Sanchez was entry into the world where her husband had died.
She peeked out from behind a curtain and saw that he was still there. Eventually, though, he started the car and backed out of the drive. Only then did she release the breath she had unconsciously been holding. Relief followed, relief that didn’t bear too close an examination.
Fortunately, just then the phone rang. Switching on a light as she crossed the room, she grabbed the portable phone eagerly, glad for anything that would push Rick Sanchez and the disturbing afternoon they’d just shared from her mind.
“Mom?”
She wasn’t prepared for her son’s whispered voice. It was thick with tears and enough to break her heart. Her oldest prided himself on never crying. Since Ken’s death, Bobby had taken his role as man of the house far too seriously. Except at the funeral, he had remained stoically dry-eyed. He had been the one to comfort his younger brothers, to try to explain the inexplicable, when Dana’s words had failed. This afternoon, though, he sounded more like a scared and lonely little boy.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m here.”
“Why can’t we come home? We miss you.”
“Oh, baby, I know. I miss you, too. How’s school?”
“Awful. It’s not like home.”
“I know it’s an adjustment,” she said with a sigh. “But we talked about that. You all said you wanted to stay in Florida for the rest of the school year, remember? You wanted to see if you liked it better there than Chicago.”
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