A Ready-Made Family. Carrie Alexander
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still fell for it. “We’ll be on our way now.”
The officer tilted his head to the right, checking out the backseat. Lia felt Sam’s clogs press into her spine through the car seat. Her teenage daughter’s long, skinny legs were doubled over and drawn up to her sulky face. She glared raccoon eyes at the officer over her kneecaps, as if daring him to question her.
Smile, dammit, Lia said silently in the rearview mirror. Just this once.
“I’m Deputy Corcoran.” He looked at Lia expectantly.
Lia met Sam’s accusing eyes in the mirror, then looked away. “Lia Howard,” she said almost too loudly. She wasn’t lying, not really. She’d been Lia Howard for the first seventeen years of her life. “And these are my kids.” She wasn’t going to give their names unless she had to.
Officer Corcoran tipped his hat. “Pleased to meetcha.”
Lia made a polite sound.
In the rear seat, Kristen stirred. The drive through twenty miles of backcountry forest had been so boring that she’d nodded off with a French fry clutched in her small fist. “Mommy? Are we there yet?”
“Not yet,” Lia said before Howie could chime in that, yes, they’d finally reached their destination, even if they couldn’t find Blackbear Road on the state map.
“How come we stopped? Is the Grudge broked again?”
“No, honey.” Lia’s eyes darted toward the officer’s face. Kristen didn’t completely understand the necessity of keeping quiet, especially around strangers. But she was learning. And that had taken another small chip out of Lia’s worn-down heart. “We’ll be there soon.”
“Not with this car,” the cop said. “The motor doesn’t sound too good.”
“I know. That’s why we call it the Grudge.” At his mystified look, she explained, “It’s from a horror movie. My daughter came up with the name. Because of the loud grinding sound the car makes when it revs up.”
“I getcha, I guess. I’m darn surprised you made it to town. The 525 might not seem like a steep road, but it’s got a long, gradual incline.”
“Luckily it’s all downhill from here.” Lia forced a chuckle as she gave a wave out the front window at the descent into the town proper.
They were perched on a hillside overlooking Alouette. The sight was a pretty one, if Lia had been in any shape to appreciate it. Interspersed among an abundance of summery green trees were the shingle roofs, cream brick and red sandstone of the quaint little town. Beyond, the blue water of Lake Superior stretched as far as the eye could see. A lighthouse perched at the tip of a finger peninsula pointing into the bay. Gulls circled bobbing boats in the small marina.
Officer Corcoran had straightened to take in the view, but he ducked back down to address her. “Didja know you have a busted taillight?”
“Oh.” She knew. But a working taillight was less crucial than replacing spark plugs and a fried fan belt—the emergency repair that had kept them stranded overnight in the middle of nowhere in a town called Christmas. “I’ll get it fixed as soon as I can,” she promised, which was honest enough considering soon was an adaptable word.
For how many years had she planned to leave her husband “soon”? After the divorce had gone through despite Larry’s attempts to block it, she’d learned a new definition of the word. Soon he’ll stop trying to hurt us. Soon the courts will understand. Soon we’ll get away.
“I shouldn’t let you go without a ticket, but…” The cop disappeared from her window to wave at a pickup truck that rattled by on the bumpy blacktop road. It shed flecks of rust like a dog shaking fleas. The young officer grinned. “See there? I gotta admit our department’s not a stickler when it comes to ticketing unroadworthy vehicles.” He squared his shoulders. “But it’s important to keep your family’s safety in mind.”
Lia swallowed. He had no idea. “I do, sir. Always.”
The young officer stepped back. “You be sure to get the vehicle fixed, ma’am. I don’t want to see it on the road again in this condition.”
“You won’t.” Lia let herself hope that she’d finally caught a break. “We don’t have far to go,” she added. “We’ll be there long before dark.” Kristen was fussing in the backseat, and Sam—bless her—passed over her precious iPod to keep her sister occupied.
“All right, then.” Officer Corcoran moved away from the car. “Make sure to watch your brakes on this hill. Speed limit’s twenty-five in town.” He squinted. “Are you positive you don’t want directions?”
“No, thanks.” Lia knew where she was going.
Anywhere that her ex-husband Larry Pogue was not.
ALOUETTE WASN’T LARGE enough to be lost in for very long. After creeping down the hill and through the handful of streets that made up the downtown area, they drove around until they found Blackbear Road on the northern side of town. Lia’s memory of the location of their destination was sketchy, pulled from years-old conversations with Rose Robbin about her hometown. Rose would have supplied better directions if she’d known they were coming, but Lia hadn’t told her. In fact, they hadn’t talked in nearly a month, when Rose had called to tell Lia she was getting married. Because her friend deserved uncomplicated happiness, Lia had oohed and aahed and kept her escalating troubles to herself.
Now she had no choice. She was desperate for a safe haven.
“This is it, Mom.” Howie stuck his head out the window to read the peeling board sign obscured by a thicket of underbrush. “Maxine’s Cottages.”
Relaxing her shoulders for the first time in an hour, Lia turned the car onto a twisting dirt-and-pebble road. Towering pines threw shadows across the Impala’s long hood. Hidden among the trees were small stone cottages, just as Rose had described. They seemed a natural part of the landscape. Their slanted roofs were thick with pine needles, the stone walls covered in moss, lichen and overgrown vines.
The road widened into a clearing near the largest structure, the central home with a plaque that denoted the office. A big black pickup truck was parked at a careless angle, taking up most of the space. Lia pulled in next to it and shut off the engine, which reluctantly gave up the ghost. Buckety-buck. Buck. Buck. The tailpipe popped. Exhaust smoke drifted by her open window, temporarily masking the fresh piney smell of the woods.
Lia breathed deeply anyway. They’d made it. Thank God.
“We’re here,” she announced.
The children stared in total silence.
“It’s not so bad.”
A protest burst from Sam. “We can’t stay here! It’s abandoned.”
“It’s not abandoned.” But the only signs of occupancy were the truck, limp curtains that fluttered in an open window of the stone house and a fishing pole and a rake leaning against a rail by the front door.
“Can we get out?” Howie asked.
“I’m not,” Sam said, crossing her arms across her chest and sliding even lower in the seat until only the blue-tipped spikes of her bangs showed. “I want to go home.”
“Then you’ll have to push the Grudge, because its engine won’t make the return trip.” Lia put on her cheery voice as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s go see if anyone’s home. Rose said there’s a river nearby. Can you hear it?”
“I do.” Howie’s door creaked as he pushed it open. He was small for his age, still a little boy despite the anxious personality and smarts that made him seem older than his years. One of Lia’s greatest wishes was to see Howie relax. To run and play, to learn how to be a boy without responsibility.
He looked eagerly at Lia across the hood, light reflecting off his glasses.
She