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Hearing a sound from the backseat, Amy turned around and saw Calista stretching and rubbing her eyes.
Amy’s heart swelled with love. “Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good nap?”
Calista’s forehead knitted into a frown. “Mommy, I hungree.” Her bottom lip quivered.
Amy dug into her tote and unearthed a Ziploc bag filled with Cheerios. She handed it back to her daughter. “Here you go, pumpkin.”
Calista folded her chubby arms across her body in a familiar pose that signaled impending mutiny. “I want French fries and a hambugger,” she said, her frown turning into a thundercloud.
Any other time she’d heard her daughter mangle the word hamburger, Amy would have been amused. Right now she was too tired and too scared to find anything amusing. All she wanted was a safe place to stay. Somewhere she and Calista could get decent food and a clean bed without fear of being found.
“Honeybun, I don’t have a hamburger, but as soon as I find a place to stop, we’ll get one, I promise.”
Calista started to cry, simultaneously struggling to free herself from her car seat.
Amy wanted to cry, too. Instead, she dropped the bag of Cheerios on the seat next to Calista and, forcing herself to ignore her daughter’s tears, headed down the road toward Morgan Creek.
What she would do when she got there, Amy wasn’t sure. She only knew she couldn’t keep driving indefinitely. She and Calista needed a break or else one or both of them was headed for a meltdown.
Five minutes later she saw the first signs of habitation. Once in the town proper, Amy drove slowly. By the time she’d gone through two stop lights, she’d passed half a dozen storefronts, one bank and two steepled churches—one red brick, one white frame. Spying a service station in the next block on the right, she suddenly knew exactly what she was going to do. She headed for the station. She needed gas, anyway.
The August heat blasted her as she exited the car. By the time she’d extricated Calista from her car seat, Amy’s T-shirt was sticking to her.
While the attendant filled her gas tank—Amy had almost forgotten there were still full-service stations in existence—Amy took Calista into the rest room. After washing their hands and faces, Amy combed Calista’s hair, as well as her own, then applied fresh lipstick. With Calista in tow, Amy headed into the main building to hunt down a phone book.
“Sure thing, sugar,” the dark-eyed woman behind the counter said to Amy’s enquiry. Reaching under the counter, she produced a slim, dog-eared directory. “Who would you be lookin’ for?”
Amy was taken aback by the woman’s question. “Um, just an old friend.”
“I know near ever’one in these parts.”
Amy hesitated, then realized it was ridiculous to worry about revealing Lorna’s name. “This is a girl I knew years ago. I’m not even sure she lives here. Her name is Lorna Hathaway.”
“Lorna! Well, sure, sugar, I know Lorna. Shoot, I’ve known all them Hathaways since they were born.” Taking the phone book back from Amy, the woman flipped it open, found the appropriate page, then handed it back. “She’s right there,” she added, pointing about midway down the right page.
Sure enough, there it was: Hathaway, Lorna. That would never happen in one of the bigger cities. Women in places like Mobile almost always listed by their initials if they listed at all. When it came to danger, Amy guessed living in a small town was very different from living in a city. Today she was very grateful for that difference.
After paying for her gas, Amy wrote down Lorna’s phone number and walked outside to the public phone booth.
Unfortunately, Amy’s cell phone could no longer be used, not unless she wanted to take a chance on the call being traced. Would Lorna be there? It was only five-thirty. Maybe she had a job and wouldn’t get home until later. The phone at the other end rang six times with no answer. Amy was just about to hang up in disappointment when a breathless voice said, “Hello?”
“Lorna?”
“Yes?”
“Lorna, this is Amy. Amy Summers.” Summers was her maiden name. “Do you remember me? From freshman year at Florida State?”
“Amy! I can’t believe it. Why, it’s been years. Of course I remember you. Are you still in Florida?”
“Um, actually I’m in the process of moving.”
“From Florida?”
“No, from Louisiana.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Well, last year I was in Orlando for a couple of days, and I thought of you and tried to call you.”
“You did?” That seemed promising.
“Yes. I was really disappointed not to find you. I even checked with the alumni office at the school, thinking maybe they had an address for you, but they said they didn’t.”
Amy thought about how Cole had discouraged her from holding on to any part of her old life and how he’d gradually cut her off from everyone and everything he considered a threat to his total domination of her. He had even tried to keep her from visiting her father, but in that, Amy had put her foot down.
“So where are you now?” Lorna asked.
“Actually, I’m right here. In Morgan Creek.”
“You are?”
“I don’t blame you for being surprised.” Amy grimaced. “It’s a long story. I’m just traveling through, but I was hoping we might be able to get together.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “I thought I’d try to find a hotel around here, at least for tonight.”
“I’d love to get together. And forget about finding a hotel. You’re staying with me. I’ve got tons of room. Oh, Amy, I’m so thrilled you called! Okay, where, exactly, are you?”
Amy told her, and Lorna quickly gave her directions to her place. “It’s the third house on the right-hand side of the street. You can’t miss it. A yellow Victorian with dark-brown trim.”
Just as Lorna said, Amy had no trouble finding her street or the house. It was lovely—a beautifully kept, gingerbready Victorian with a cupola and a wraparound porch filled with wicker furniture and even a porch swing. What a perfect house, yet it seemed far too big for just one person. Though Lorna’s name had been listed in the directory as Hathaway, Amy wondered if she might be married, and if she had children.
Amy parked her silver Toyota on the street in front of the house and had barely gotten her driver’s-side door open when Lorna came bounding out the front door and down the porch steps.
Amy would have recognized her old friend anywhere. Lorna was older, yes, but she was still slender and blond, although her hair, which used to be halfway down her back, was now worn much shorter, in one of those messy styles currently popular. Amy, whose own dark hair was wildly curly, would have loved to pull off that more sophisticated look but knew it would never be in the cards.
“Amy!” Lorna’s smile was huge, her bright-blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Before Amy could open the back door to retrieve Calista, Lorna had enveloped her in an exuberant hug. “Oh, it’s wonderful to see you.” Releasing Amy, she stood back and studied her. “You look great. Not a day older than the last time I saw you.”
Amy made a face. “You never were a good liar. I look terrible and I know it.”
“You couldn’t look terrible if you tried.”
“Mommee!”
Lorna’s eyes widened and she stooped down to look into the car. “And who’s this precious little one?”
“That’s Calista, my daughter. Here, let me get her out.”
Lorna stood back to allow Amy to free Calista from her car seat. Calista stared at Lorna curiously as Amy lifted her out of the car.
“Well, hello, Calista,” Lorna said. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”
Calista, who even at three loved compliments, grinned, revealing the deep dimples she’d inherited from Amy’s mother.
“Oh, Amy, she’s beautiful.”
Amy couldn’t help noticing the wistful note in Lorna’s voice. While continuing to coo over Calista, Lorna helped Amy gather her belongings. Then the three headed up the walkway to the house.
Amy wished she could properly appreciate the well-cared-for lawn and the abundance of colorful summer flowers and shrubs surrounding the house, but she was too on edge to truly enjoy anything but the possibility of at least one night’s respite from worry.
The house felt wonderfully cool in contrast to the heat outdoors and smelled of lemon furniture polish. A quick look around the entry hall revealed shining hardwood floors, beautiful antiques and gorgeous carpets, that gave her an overall impression of both good taste and charm. A fan whirred softly overhead.
“The house is actually clean, thank goodness,” Lorna said. “I have a woman who comes in twice a week, and today was one of her days.”
“It’s lovely.” It was more than lovely. It was tranquil. Amy immediately felt less nervous and frightened just being there. It was as if nothing bad could possibly happen to her—to them—in a house this peaceful.
“Before I show you around, shall we take your things upstairs to the guest room?”
“This is so nice of you, Lorna.”
Lorna made a disparaging gesture. “Hey, we’re friends. Besides, I’m so excited to have you!”
“Well, I really appreciate it.”
Lorna took one of the suitcases and the tote Amy’d had in the car, then led the way up the graceful, curved staircase to the right of the entry hall. Upstairs she showed Amy to a large front bedroom that overlooked the street.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Amy said. The walls were covered with a creamy wallpaper in an old-fashioned pattern of big pink cabbage roses and garlands of ivy. It was charming and reminded Amy of the wallpaper that used to be in her grandmother’s bedroom. The furnishings were just as charming: a four-poster bed with a pale-green comforter and matching dust ruffle, a walnut chest of drawers and armoire, a desk and accompanying chair, and best of all, a wide window seat covered with a thick green pillow. A large teddy bear sat on it.
“Bear!” Calista pointed, eyes wide.
“Oh, dear,” Amy said as Calista immediately headed for the stuffed animal.
Lorna smiled, watching her. “She can play with the bear. It’s a holdover from when my nieces were little.”
“Calista can be kind of rough with her toys.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Turning back to Amy, she added, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a crib for her. I do have a cot, though.”
“Calista doesn’t sleep in a crib anymore, anyway.”
“If you don’t want the cot, she can have a room of her own, whichever you think is best.”
“She can just sleep with me.”
“Are you sure?”
Amy smiled. “I’m sure. That’s what we would have done if we’d gotten a hotel. This is perfect.”
“All right. Why don’t I leave you two alone for a little while, then? You can unpack your things while I make a phone call, okay? Then we can start catching up.”
“Okay.”
When Lorna had gone back downstairs, Amy sank onto the bed and let Calista explore the room. What she wouldn’t give to be able to remain here for a couple of days, but she knew she couldn’t afford to overstay her welcome. If Lorna should offer, that would be one thing. But Amy couldn’t ask.
While Calista played contentedly with the stuffed animal, talking her own version of “bear” talk to him, Amy unpacked their night clothes. It was probably pointless to take anything else out of the suitcases, since in all probability she would be on the road again in the morning, but she did take clean shorts and tops out for both of them to wear tomorrow.
“Okay, sweetie, time to say bye-bye to Bear.”
Calista gave her a dark look, shaking her head and hugging the bear tighter.
Amy sighed. “Oh, all right. You can take Bear downstairs.”
As the two slowly descended the stairs, Amy heard Lorna saying goodbye to someone, and by the time they reached the entry, Lorna had come out to meet them.
“Are either of you hungry? We won’t be having dinner until seven-thirty or later, but I have cheese and crackers and fruit we could have now.”
“I know Calista’s hungry,” Amy said, praying that her daughter wouldn’t turn her nose up at the snack and start demanding a hamburger again.
“Let’s go back to the kitchen, then.”
The kitchen was exactly what Amy would have expected it to be: big, bright and cheerful—done in pale yellow with red accents—and dominated by a fireplace at one end and a big, round oak table in the center. Looking like a Currier & Ives print, the fireplace was flanked on one side by an oak rocking chair and on the other by a fat calico cat who eyed them as they entered the room.
“Kitty!” Calista shouted, immediately racing over to the feline.
“Calista, don’t touch the cat,” Amy said, rushing after her daughter. “Sometimes cats scratch.”
“It’s okay,” Lorna said. “Buttercup is an unusual cat. She actually likes little kids.”
And she did seem to, Amy saw, because when Calista reached out to pet the cat’s head, Buttercup actually leaned into the caress, and Amy heard her purr.
Calista laughed delightedly and sat down on the hearth next to the cat. Amy watched for a while, but quickly realized she didn’t need to worry.
“Can I help you?” she asked Lorna.
“Thanks, but there’s nothing much to do. Just have a seat.”
Within minutes the table was laden with the cheese and crackers, a bunch of red seedless grapes and a wedge of some kind of paté that looked wonderful.
“Milk for Calista?” she asked.
“Please.”
“I’ve even got a sip cup left from my nieces.”
“Great.”
It took some doing to get Calista away from Buttercup, but after promising her if she ate everything, she could play with the cat again, she came to the table. Once she was happily eating, the two friends finally had a chance to talk.
“Before we start filling in what’s happened since we last saw each other,” Lorna said, “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Tonight there’s a dinner party being given at my family’s home to celebrate my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday, and you and Calista are invited to come, too.”
